New Additions to the Family

I’ve been a little busy lately, so have not written anything on the blog about the latest additions to the family – kittens Latimer and Ridley (their names are almost bigger than they are). I got them on Thursday, July 27. They were just over seven weeks old when I got them.

The boys are a handful, spending virtually every waking minute chasing each other around the house and wrestling. Initially they would play for about an hour or two and then sleep for about three or four. Now they seem to be active for three or four hours (and even more) and then nap briefly before starting in again. Their youthful exuberance is so much fun to watch. And they are definitely partners in crime. They do everything together, including eating and using the litter box (or at least one will play in the box while the other is trying to do his business – strange).

As for the names, they are named after English Reformation martyrs, Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley.

Here are a few pics of the little devils.

Latimer on left, Ridley on right

Ridley on left, Latimer on right

Latimer and Ridley praying the Anglican Rosary. Latimer is using the beads to pray and Ridley is making the sign of the cross. They are very pious.

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Vanity of Vanities

10th Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 13) – Year C (RCL)
Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14, 2:18-23; Psalm 49:1-11; Colossians 3:1-11;
Luke 12:13-21
Sunday, August 1, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands


“‘You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

Sorry folks. I hate to tell ya’, but in these words, Jesus is not just speaking to the foolish rich man. He’s also speaking us. No, I don’t mean that we are all going to die tonight, as did the foolish rich man. But I do mean that our lives are being demanded of us as God has already laid claim to our lives by virtue of our baptisms. When we were baptized, brought into the Body of Christ, our lives ceased to be our own. In that moment, as we emerged from the baptismal waters, our lives became God’s. God is free to do with each and every one of us as God sees fit. And right now, God is laying claim to what is His.

The reason for this wake-up call is pretty evident when you look at all three of our lectionary readings. Ecclesiastes talks about how we spend our entire lives toiling in what the writer describes as being “vanity of vanities.” Colossians tells us to “set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” And in Luke, Jesus says “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does no consist in the abundance of possessions.” He then goes on to tell the parable of the foolish rich man which describes the outcome of such actions in no uncertain terms. Looking at the parable of the foolish rich man and filtering it through a 21st century lens, I see two components that we need to be concerned with: possessions and activity.

The most obvious thing being criticized in today’s scripture lessons, particularly in the Gospel, is the accumulation of material possessions. In the parable, the rich landowner is blessed to have had a bumper crop. Unfortunately he doesn’t have large enough facilities to store the surplus – a good problem to have. What to do with all the extra? He has the opportunity to share the wealth with his neighbors, or better yet, to those really in need. But, no. He’s more concerned with holding onto his riches. So he has to find someplace to store the bounty. Instead of doing the rational thing and building additional barns, he tears down the existing barns and builds even bigger ones. He takes the opportunity to flaunt his wealth. If he builds mega-barn, everyone will know he’s wealthy and successful. Unfortunately for him, just about the time he finishes his building project, he dies. He spent his whole time obsessing about his wealth and how to keep and protect it that he never had a chance to enjoy it.

And I’m afraid that in our consumer-oriented society, we have a tendency of following the lead of the foolish rich man. Society says more, more, more. Gotta keep up with the Joneses, or surpass them. Would you like to supersize that? And most of us say “yes.”

In addition to possessions, there is something else that our lessons seek to warn us about – activity, or rather over-activity. We see it with the foolish rich man who engages in a frenzy of activity in his massive building project. And Ecclesiastes talks about constant toil so that even “at night their minds do not rest.” Humanity is beset by some sort of need for constant activity.

But in our own day, I think we have managed to elevate the art of being overly active, of overextending ourselves, to an art form. It’s almost become a perverse form of status, a badge of honor, to be so busy you don’t know if you’re coming or going. We all do it. I have to admit that I catch myself doing it. I am sooooo busy today. I have to lead a Bible study and then meet with the rector and then I have to see three parishioners in the hospital – one at Redlands Community, one at Loma Linda, and one at Kaiser Fontana. Then I have to write my sermon for Sunday, do a conference call, write an article for the Messenger, go to a committee meeting, plan the fall adult education program, and go to a vestry meeting. And then after lunch . . .

You get the idea. But I’m finding this phenomenon seems to be more and more pervasive. When you ask someone how they are, more often than not, you get a litany of what they’ve been doing or what they have to do. And sadly, it’s gotten to the point that even our children are doing it. Recently I was talking with a young person, asking how the summer break was going, and I got a list of all the things and activities this person was doing. It made me tired just listening to it. I can sort of understand this in adults. It makes us look, or at least feel, valuable and indispensible in the workplace. It makes us look like the success-driven go-getters that society expects us to be. But our children? What happened to just being a kid, enjoying some time off from school, spending time with friends, or just laying around and doing nothing?

Ecclesiastes has a term for all this. Vanity of vanities. Not vanity as in self-obsession, though that certainly fits in many instances. The Hebrew word we translate as vanity really means vapor or breath, something illusory, meaningless, empty. The other term Ecclesiastes uses is “chasing after wind.” In other words, all of this, our pursuit of possessions and our obsession with activity, these things that seem so important to humans, is not what really matters. Quite the opposite. If anything, these things, our obsession with possessions and activity distracts us from what is truly important.

Just as criticism of our views toward possessions and activity comes from our readings for the day, so too do they provide a corrective – maybe not directly, but the corrective is certainly implied in the meaning of the parable of the foolish rich man, as well as in Ecclesiastes’ assertion that all these things are vanity and chasing after wind.

Now there’s nothing inherently wrong with worldly goods and success, with having big houses, fancy cars, nice things, etc. We work hard. It’s okay to reward ourselves. It’s not the possessions in and of themselves that are problematic, but rather our obsession with them. It’s the building up of material goods, the drive to get more even when we already have enough or more than enough. What the scriptures are really saying is that we need to be careful not to become so focused on getting more, striving for bigger and better. In spending so much time and energy on acquisition and maintenance, we don’t have time to enjoy what we do have. In focusing our energy on getting more, we are thinking about ourselves and what labors went into getting all this stuff, failing to recognize God’s hand in the bounty we have. In becoming self-absorbed with what we are doing for our selves, because we deserve it, we fail to recognize the needs of those who are on the margins and how we could possibly share out of our bounty. In the drive for more, we get wrapped up in the thrill of getting, not realizing that we have way more than we need or could possibly use. We are unable to discern what really is enough.

It’s all about personal stewardship of the resources we have. True stewardship entails careful use and care of what we have. This does mean saving some surplus for the future – for retirement, for a rainy day. But stewardship is more than this. Good stewardship also entails recognizing the source of all we have and giving thanks to God for what we have. And good stewardship entails care for one’s neighbors, providing for the poor and marginalized, particularly when we have more than enough.

And then there’s dealing with over-activity. The Teacher in Ecclesiastes speaks to this when he tells us that all our human activity is ultimately vanity of vanity, is chasing after wind. While we think everything we do is of upmost important, the reality is that a lot of it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference in the grand scheme of things. Working 70 hours a week as opposed to a standard 40 hour work week probably won’t make a significant difference in the quality of our lives, other than taking us away from our loved ones. Having extracurricular activities are important to help relieve the stress from our workaday lives and help make us well-rounded persons, but are they really beneficial if we just end up stressing about how we are going to get everything done: the job, the 20 or 30 different activities we do, not to mention household chores, and oh yeah, spending time, real quality time, with our loved ones? And we haven’t even factored in yet, where do we find time for God in all of this frenetic activity? Where and how do we take a little time to give thanks to the God who has given us so much, to praise him for the beauty of creation, to check in and let him know how we’re doing, what our concerns are?

What we tend to forget is that there’s a reason for Sabbath, and I mean real Sabbath, not just a day off to fill with back-to-back activities. Sabbath is about giving us the time we need to slow down and catch up with ourselves, to catch up with and spend time with our loved ones, to spend time with the One who created us and gives us all we have and all that we are. That’s why the Jewish religion mandates a day of Sabbath with minimal activity – to focus on self, family, and God, not on going, doing, rushing around. Sabbath time is an invitation to renewed relationship with God, and with one another – relationship that does not happen on the fly, but can only really happen when we are intentional about it, by being present to those we love and being present to our God.

The statements made in today’s lessons, and the correctives they provide are not meant to be pessimistic statements about human existence or to provide onerous requirements. Rather, they are an observation of how we can get carried away and lose sight of what is truly important. These correctives are really meant to be liberating, to free us from our focus on possessions, our obsession with ceaseless activity, and to give us the space we need to focus on care of self; care for our loves ones; care for others, including our neighbors and the marginalized; and nurture of our relationship with our God. We are meant to be free to have time to enjoy life and all that it brings as a gift from God.

Today’s lessons, while seemingly harsh, are therefore expressed out of loving concern. It’s not so much that our life is being demanded of us as that we are being invited into another way of being. We are invited to slow down and discern what God is calling us to do with our possessions, our time and our activity. We are invited to evaluate our standard of what is enough. We are invited to determine what is truly important in our lives. We are invited to examine our understanding of God’s blessings and our purpose in life. And we are invited to do this in partnership with God, in renewed relationship with the One without whom our lives really are nothing more than vanity of vanities and a chasing after wind.

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

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"How-To" Manual for Doing Mission

Sixth Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 9) – Year C (RCL)
Isaiah 66:10-14; Psalm 66:1-8; Galatians 6:(1-6)7-16; Luke 10:1-11,16-20
Sunday, July 4, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands


It’s amazing how the assigned Sunday lectionary readings just happen to speak to what is going on in our lives.

Over the past year, we have been engaged in a process to develop a long-range strategic plan for Trinity parish. The process we have been using has a clear bias toward focusing on missional work – work outside the walls of the parish that meets some of the hopes and hurts of the community of which we are a part. When we first started the process, there was a reluctance to look at our deficiencies when it comes to missional work. That’s not to say that we don’t do outreach – we do. But a place like ours, with so many talented people and so many other resources, could certainly do more. But as we progressed through the process, there was a significant shift in thinking, moving away from an inward-looking perspective to one that is more outward-looking, and an increased willingness to acknowledge that yes, we really could do more outreach.

One of the key objectives of our Strategic Plan is to establish a mission committee that will “examine parish passions for mission and unmet community needs and develop recommended missional objectives and programs” for Trinity parish. Earlier this week, we had a preliminary organizational meeting of this newly forming mission committee. I don’t think it’s coincidence that here, just a few days later, we are hearing a Gospel reading that is essentially a “how-to” manual for doing mission in the world. In our reading from Luke, we virtually have a step-by-step guide of how to do outreach – the nature of the work, and how to approach it. Let’s take a look and see what we might learn about how to do missional work.

As to the nature of the work, Jesus tells us a couple of things. First, “the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few”. There’s a lot of work to be done and not enough people to do it. In expanding those doing outreach by appointing the 70, Jesus was expanding the scope of who does the work. It’s not just the leadership – Jesus and the Twelve who were responsible for missional work. These additional 70 disciples, along with the Twelve, represent the totality of the community, clergy and laity alike. And that is a central part of who we are as the Body of Christ to this day. The Catechism in the BCP asks the question “What is the ministry of the laity?” And the answer is “The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and . . . to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world . . .” (BCP, 855). Our own doctrine commends each and every one of us to go out into the world to do ministry. And our Lord, through today’s Gospel, sends us out with the same authority that he himself has received from God the Father. We do this in his name.

Now, Jesus does tell us “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves.” In other words, things will not always be easy out in the field. Going outside the comfort of our community to minister in the world can potentially be dangerous, or at least difficult. In our own context, we are not generally in danger because of our faith, unlike some areas of the world. But proclaiming the Gospel outside these walls may be difficult at times. Despite professing to be a Christian nation, there is a lot of resistance to the Gospel. There is a lot of mistrust about what we are really trying to do, suspicion about what secret agenda we might have. But that’s where the rest of the Gospel reading comes in – the “how-to” part.

The first thing that Jesus tells the 70, and us, about doing mission in the world is to travel light. “Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals.” But I think there is a much deeper meaning to his instructions to travel light. What Jesus is really saying is that when we go out into the world to proclaim the Gospel, to do mission, we are to only take ourselves. Nothing more and nothing less. We go only with the blessing and authority of Christ to do the ministry he has called us to. In essence, we are take with us only the essentials – that which makes us who we are as God’s children.

Taking nothing and focusing only on the essentials means there is nothing to distract us from our ministry. We are freed to focus on who we are called to be and what we are called to do. That is why we are sent in the first place. Nothing should distract us from that mission.

Taking nothing and focusing only on the essentials means we go forth with the talents and skills God has given us. And while God has given us talents to use, we also know that in going forth, we do not trust solely in our own abilities, but trust in the power of God to lead us, inspire us, and help get us through.

Taking nothing and focusing only on the essentials means that we have nothing to hide behind. We present ourselves as we are. We present the true picture of what it means to be Christians, to live the Gospel. Each and every one of you are the face of Christianity. You are the example of what it means to live the Gospel in your day-to-day lives. And that’s what people see when you go out into the world.

Taking nothing and focusing only on the essentials means that the mission we are called to do is not about personal gain – certainly not materially, but neither it is for personal glory. What we do is for the glory of God and God alone.

The second major thing that Jesus tells the 70, and us, about doing mission in the world is that it’s all about hospitality. When Jesus talks about entering a house and eating whatever they provide, and all that, he’s not just talking about the hospitality we are shown by those we are called to minister to. That’s a part, but a more crucial part is the hospitality we show those to whom we minister. When the 70 are sent forth, their sole purpose is to prepare others to encounter Jesus. So too, for us, our primary purpose is, through our ministry to others, to introduce them to and facilitate an encounter with Jesus Christ. This is done in a spirit of peace and goodwill, through gracious presence, in gratitude for the opportunity to serve, through our words and our actions. We do this by building relationship with others based on mutual respect. In this way, we invite others more deeply into our lives, and likewise, we are, in time, invited more deeply into their lives. It is through this process that the Gospel may be shared, once there is respect and trust and an openness to engage in relationship. For the ultimate goal is not to do ministry to others, but to engage in ministry with others. And that is when the encounter with the Risen Christ, in all its fullness, can really happen – for all involved.

And there is hospitality on the part of those we set out to serve. Hospitality comes in the form of openness to receive the gift of service, to receive the offer of friendship, to hear the gospel message, and eventually, maybe even to respond to the gospel message.

If we enter into our mission work bringing only the essentials of ourselves as representatives of Christ, bringing the gifts we have to offer as gifts from God given out of genuine love and respect for the other, then we can, in time, expect hospitable response. For as Jesus has told us, the harvest is plentiful. There are a lot of people out there hungering for what we have to offer. What is lacking are laborers willing to step outside of the comfort of their church families, to step into the world and help with the work that desperately needs to be done.

Jesus shows us that the formula for this hospitality is simple. We go forth, greeting those we are called to minister to in peace. We gather in fellowship, sharing the Gospel message as we have experienced it, as it has been written in our own lives. And in the sharing, we prepare those others to encounter Jesus, to receive Christ. It is no accident that this is the same formula for what happens in our parish community every week. We gather on a weekly basis greeting each other in peace. We hear the Gospel message proclaimed. We share how the Gospel has touched our lives. We gather in fellowship around a meal at the Lord’s Table. And when we are nourished, we are sent out with the words “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.” These are not just some nice sounding words, but rather our commissioning to do what we have prepared to do in our worship, to do what God has commanded us to do. The whole structure of our weekly worship is designed to prepare us for our mission in the world. The church is not a refuge from the world. The church is a place of preparation, the place where we are fed, the home base from which we are sent out to engage the world, to do the work of Christ in the world.

Over the next few months, our Strategic Plan Mission Committee will be examining the talents and passions of the members of this parish and the unmet hurts and hopes in the community around us. They will prayerfully discern possibilities for new forms of ministry outside of these walls. It is our hope and prayer that through this process, guided by the lessons from today’s Gospel, Trinity parish may continue to move forward into the fullness of what God is calling us to be and engage in the ministry God is calling us to do. As Jesus tells us in Luke, the kingdom of God has come near. Our job is to go forth and share that kingdom with others in word and deed.

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

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Sin Boldly . . . and Be More Boldly Forgiven

Third Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 6) – Year C (RCL)
2 Samuel 11:26-12:10,13-15; Psalm 32; Galatians 2:15-21; Luke 7:368:3
Sunday, June 13, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands


“Be a sinner and sin boldly . . .”

This quote from Martin Luther is generally misunderstood and taken out of context. Luther is not condoning sin per say. It is actually part of a statement made in a much broader conversation about sin. Part of that conversation was about what constitutes sin in the eyes of the church, and railing against “sins” that were merely against the teachings of the church and not real sins, such as priests marrying and receiving communion outside the Catholic Church. But it was also part of a longer quote intended to convey something about God’s grace when it comes to dealing with sinful humanity. The fuller quote is “Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly.” And then Luther goes on to say “Pray boldly – for you too are a mighty sinner.” Luther is not giving license to go out and commit big juicy sins. What he is actually doing is using irony and perhaps a bit of hyperbole to convey that we rely on God’s grace to forgive our true sins. And that grace is so powerful it defeats sin completely. We do not have to get hung up on the fact that we are still vulnerable to sin – for we will still sin as long as we live. But instead, we can embrace God’s grace, rejoice in God’s power to overcome sin, and boldly accept that God gives us this gift.

Now this was a far cry from a much younger Martin Luther, who in his early days as an Augustinian monk was obsessed with his own sinfulness. He was said to have engaged regularly in fasts, flagellations, long periods of prayer, and constant confession. I don’t know how true it is, but I have even heard that there were times when Luther would go to confession, go through a detailed list of sins no matter how small, receive absolution from the priest, and then would immediately go to confession again, just in case he happened to sin in those few moments since his last confession.

Here within one man, granted, over a period of 15 to 20 years, we have polar opposite views of dealing with personal sinfulness – from being obsessed with it and being wracked with guilt, to humbly recognizing it, recognizing that only God can take care of it, and joyfully and boldly accepting God’s grace. Or, another way of looking at would be a spectrum ranging from focusing on sin to focusing on forgiveness.

This range of understandings of our sinfulness is what is being addressed in today’s Gospel lesson. As we read our Gospel lesson from Luke we are confronted with a question that runs just beneath the surface: How do we approach sin, or rather, what is our understanding of our own sinfulness?

The key players in today’s reading represent two extremes in dealing with sin. We have our host, Simon, a Pharisee who is at the “obsessed with sin” end of the spectrum. This is revealed in a couple of ways – one obvious and the other not so obvious. The obvious is contained in the words of Simon when he says to himself “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him – that she is a sinner.” Her status as a sinner is the first thing that comes to his mind when he sees her. Not outrage that an uninvited guest had crashed his party. Not wondering what she is doing there. Not questioning whether she might be a threat. No, he went straight for her status as a sinner.

And the less obvious reason is the fact that he was a Pharisee. While not specifically stated, he would have been concerned with keeping the Law so as to avoid becoming ritually unclean, to avoid doing anything that might be seen as a sin in the eyes of God – or more likely, in the eyes of his fellow Pharisees. In following the Law, he “knew” himself to be righteous before God. And his guests would have thought likewise. So to Simon, it was quite obvious that the woman was a sinner and he was not. When it comes to his own sinfulness, Simon is in self-righteous denial.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have the woman who knows she is a sinner and in need of forgiveness. We are not told how, but not only does she recognize her sinfulness and the need for forgiveness, she actually recognizes that she is forgiven and moreover, she recognizes the source of her forgiveness. In her recognition, and out of sheer gratitude and joy for having been given such a great, she comes to Jesus to express her thanks. She brings ointment to anoint him, as a proper king should be anointed. But before she can even do that, she becomes overcome with emotion at being in the presence of the one who forgives her unconditionally that she begins to cry. In humility, she makes her own tears a gift to Jesus, to wash his tired, dirty feet. This woman, while certainly aware of her sinfulness, is focusing on forgiveness, not her sinfulness.

Comparing the two principals in this, Simon lacks appreciation of his own sinfulness. He isn’t even aware of his own sinfulness. The woman certainly appreciates her own sinfulness, as well as the enormity of the gift of forgiveness that she has received. What this says to us is that we need awareness of own sinfulness in order to receive forgiveness. After all, we will not accept, or even seek out, that which we do not feel we need. And there is so much that flows from recognition of the need for forgiveness. When we recognize the need, we can accept the gift of forgiveness and know what that feels like – the great joy that the woman felt. And in knowing what that feels like, we are able to experience the love and compassion that God has for us – the love and compassion that leads us to respond in several ways. One is to respond out of gratitude to the one who has granted forgiveness. For us, that takes the form of worship of and service to our God. And the other response is the ability and the desire to forgive others who have wronged us.

Now in a very subtle way, this pericope is cast in such a way as to manipulate us. On one level, we know that we should be like the woman – accepting our sinfulness, but rather than focus on that, to accept and be thankful for our forgiveness. Yet, through the flagrant transgressions of the woman, inappropriate behavior and actions that we ourselves, being proper folk, would never engage in, we are meant to identify more with Simon and his guests. We are meant to recognize that maybe we don’t quite get it when it comes to dealing with our own sinfulness. Maybe we need to look at our image of ourselves and compare it with that of the woman. Maybe we are supposed to look at ourselves and see how we might be able to become less like the Pharisee and more like the woman. For if we are brutally honest with ourselves, how many of us, even if we are willing to admit that we are sinners, tend to think that we are a little less sinful than our neighbors? How many of us are quick to recognize the sinfulness of others, while remaining in self-righteous denial about our own sinfulness. And if that’s where you are, there’s no shame in that. There are a lot of us right there with you. There are a lot of us who need to learn that lesson, too. So what this pericope asks us is: Do we cling to our self-righteousness, or do we blatantly, flagrantly, throw aside the peripherals and joyfully embrace the forgiveness that is made possible through Jesus Christ?

Once we recognize that we need to let our own inner Simon go, we can then turn to what else the story from Luke has to teach us. The portrayal of the woman tells us something about how to let go of our sinfulness and to more fully embrace the gift of forgiveness.

The key is in the nature of the woman’s sinfulness. The woman’s sins, whatever they are – we are not told – obviously carry public shame. Everyone seems to know that she is a sinner. While most of us do not have sins that are public or are necessarily publically known, that does not mean there is no less sense of shame. I would venture that most of us have done something, or not done something, in our lives that cause us some sense of shame – something that we would just as soon forget about and pray that no one else ever finds out about. The actual magnitude of the sin makes no difference. Because for us, at a deeply personal level, such transgressions are huge – they are weighty and burdensome to us. The very fact that we carry shame makes such transgressions a tremendous burden. Now some of us are good at burying such things so deep that they rarely see the light of day. But they are there, nonetheless, exerting their toxic influence on our spiritual well-being. But the good news is that, as the woman shows us, while we see the shame, God does not. He only sees the broken, hurting person that we are, and sees the burden that causes us that pain. And in his love and compassion for us, he forgives us, taking away our sins – taking away the cause of the pain. And in forgiving them, there is nothing shameful for God to see. All God sees is one of his beloved children. In this realization, we are freed from the bondage of our sin. It is this liberation that leads the woman to do what she does.

That is the benefit of focusing on the gift of forgiveness we receive as opposed to our sinfulness. We begin to see ourselves as God sees us. For the extravagant actions of the woman – using her tears to wash Jesus’ feet, using her hair to dry them, anointing his feet with expensive ointment, her tenderness and intimacy – are signs of God’s extravagant love for us. It is this extravagant love that leads God to forgive our sins, no matter how great or small, to take them away, to take away our shame, to free us from the bondage of our sins. And it is the receipt of this extravagant gift that allows the woman, and us, to offer extravagant, heartfelt gratitude to God.

There are times in our lives when we do sin boldly. But God forgives us even more boldly. And for that, we rejoice boldly.

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

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Lessons in Compassion

Second Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 5) – Year C (RCL)
Youth Sunday at 10:15 Liturgy
1 Kings 17:8-16; Psalm 146; Galatians 1:11-24; Luke 7:11-17
Sunday, June 6, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands
[Original manuscript, but sermon preached from outline]

Now that we’ve gotten through Pentecost and Trinity Sunday, we have a shift in liturgical seasons. We enter the longest liturgical season of the year, the season after Pentecost. We have come through Eastertide, where we focus on the promise of new and eternal life made possible through Jesus’ death and resurrection, and we look forward to the coming of the Kingdom of God. We end Eastertide with Pentecost and the celebration of the coming of the Holy Spirit, that gift that provides us with what we need to continue in the here and now until the eventual coming of the Kingdom. And now, in the season after Pentecost, we settle into the fact that we do live in the here and now, and begin looking at how we may live the Gospel in our everyday lives.

Because of the sharp shift we have just gone through, from focus on the promise of the Kingdom of God during Eastertide to living of everyday life in anticipation of the Kingdom, we may be tempted to see the Kingdom as being at some future time and place beyond our own realm. But we do not wait idly by for this kingdom to manifest itself. For with Jesus’ death and resurrection, the Kingdom of God has begun. It is not fully manifest, but it is beginning to break through. It is not for some future time and place, but belongs as much in the present. This Kingdom, while not fully manifest, plays out in the day-to-day lives of each of us, as we struggle to meet our basic needs, as we confront the forces of evil still present in our world – greed, self-centeredness, cruelty, complacency. This season after Pentecost is not about waiting for the Kingdom but rather is about doing our part to help make the Kingdom a reality here and now. It is about living a kingdom lifestyle, living the kingdom values proclaimed in the Gospel. And as our liturgical season shifts, so does the tenor of our Sunday scripture lessons. For the next six months, our lessons give us insight into the way we are to live our day-to-day lives in the newly forming Kingdom of God.

Today’s lessons, particularly the Old Testament lesson and the Gospel, focus on the theme of compassion and the various ways it is manifest in our lives. The Gospel lesson from Luke focuses on divine compassion, on the compassion that Jesus has for the widow as she grieves the loss of her only son. Jesus is responding to the widow’s suffering, both seen and unseen. There is seen suffering in the loss of her son, but also unseen suffering in the sense of hopelessness that she faces now that she has no male provider to care for her. She has instantly been thrust into poverty and to the margins of society. Jesus, moved by her plight, has compassion and solves her two-fold suffering in a miraculous way, through the raising of her son from the dead. For us, this story illustrates the first step in engaging in acts of compassion. Jesus was moved to help the woman. We cannot act in compassion until we are first moved, casting aside our complacency or our hardness of heart.

Now what Jesus actually does is a little beyond us. I doubt many of us have raised someone from the dead lately. So, we will move on to the Old Testament lesson, which puts a slightly different, more human, face on compassion.

In this story from 1 Kings, the prophet Elijah comes to Zarephath. While his entry into the village and immediate demand for food may seem a bit rude, we have to realize that 1) God has told him this woman will provide for him, and 2) he has been living out in the wilderness during a time of drought. So, he has probably not had much to eat or drink for some time. Now the widow is in a bad place herself. She is without hope, having barely enough meal and oil for one final loaf of bread for her and her son. And in this drought situation, there is no hope of getting any more. This is the end for her. But despite her own plight, she has compassion on Elijah and does as he requests. Of course, it probably helps that he tells her that God will provide for her needs. But even so, she had to have a certain amount of faith, as well as compassion, to trust the word of this crazy stranger who has just wandered in off the desert and to give of her remaining meager supplies. Out of her compassion, she does give of what little she has to Elijah. In fulfilling Elijah’s request, God’s promise to her is fulfilled. The meal and the oil do not run out, and she, her son, and Elijah have enough to eat for some time to come.

Now while this story does rely on miracle and divine intervention, I think it also holds some insights into compassion and the miracle of engaging in compassionate acts. In this story, we have the intersection of, or interaction between, human and divine compassion. God had compassion on Elijah and provided for his needs through the widow. In so doing, God also had compassion for the widow. In fact, God’s compassion was really operating on multiple levels. Through Elijah’s words of assurance to the widow, she gained a renewed sense of hope – that this might not be the end, but that she and her son might yet survive. And then through the miracle of the jars of meal and oil, God’s compassion physically sustained the widow and her entire household. The fact that the jars of meal and oil never gave out reveal an even greater truth about God’s love and compassion – God’s desire for all to have life and to have it abundantly.

Not to sound trite, but the underlying message is that when we have compassion for others, our own needs or concerns seem to be taken care of in the process – and sometimes in ways we don’t even anticipate. It’s one of those mysteries. There are all sorts of stories of people who had barely enough resources to survive, but helped another in need anyway. I have been blessed to meet some such people. And their story is always the same. Even after giving, they still had enough for their own needs – just like the widow. And not only were their basic needs met, but they were also blessed. They find they were fed physically, and in the process were also fed spiritually. The amazing thing is that when it comes to compassionate giving, those who are among the poorer in our society tend to give a greater proportion of their meager resources to help others in need. And they generally find that they still have enough to meet basic needs. Studies on this phenomenon indicate that the reason this is so is because such help is an expression of how communities come together to meet common goals. By helping others, they also express faith that their own needs will be cared for.

As a religion based on community, we need to listen to this. Our scriptures are full of stories of compassion, particularly toward the most marginalized in society. And it is through community that we are best able to meet those needs, to express compassion. It is through the individual, but particularly the communal expressions of compassion that we begin to create a sense of the Kingdom of God here and now.

I think the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath also gives us some insight into how we engage compassion, enter into acts of compassion. It is by inviting God into the process, allowing the intersection of human and divine compassion – the divine compassion that presents itself when we invite the prophetic into our midst. This is symbolized in story of Elijah by the widow offering compassionate care to Elijah, the prophet, who in turn revealed that all would be well, and this was backed up by God’s actions. For us, inviting the prophetic into the process means looking to those who have an openness to the calling to be compassionate. Who are these prophetic ones we seek? They are here in our midst. When it comes to openness to being compassionate, there are none more predisposed than our children. Our children and our youth are the prophetic ones we need to turn to.

In this liturgy, we are celebrating our Christian education program by incorporating elements of what our children and youth have been learning all year. In our Christian education programming, we seek to prepare our children and particularly our youth to be sent out into the world. The primary goal is to instill in them the simple fact that God loves them, each and every one of them. And in the process, it is our hope that through their time in our midst, that they have learned what it means to be a Christian, that they have picked-up some sense of Christian responsibility, that they have realized that being a Christian means being willing to serve. But we can only tell them the stories. They have to internalize them. They have to make the lessons their own.

I am pleased to report that when it comes to this part of their education, becoming compassionate followers of Christ, our kids have all passed with flying colors. Our children and youth have not only engaged in acts of compassion, they have been leaders in compassion. Just in the last academic year, our kids and youth have of their own volition (though sometimes with prompting by their teachers) started three campaigns of compassion. They did the Pennies for Peace campaign to help build schools in Afghanistan. They made luminarias to help raise money for the Redlands Community Hospital hospice program, but also to emotionally help those for whom Christmas is a difficult time of year. And our children did a drive to collect baby clothes for Joseph’s Storehouse. And I dare say that this is far more than us grown-ups did during that same timeframe.

Our children and our youth have learned that we who are readily fed are called to feed others. As Christians, this means that we not only feed physically, through the giving of bread, but also spiritually, through the sharing of the Good News, through the giving of Christ, who is the Bread of Life. And they have learned that in feeding others we too are fed spiritually. And thus the cycle continues.

Our job is to raise up our young ones, to teach them, to be good shepherds to them. But our job does not end there. We also need to listen to them, because they also have something to teach us, about Christian values, about Christian responsibility, about working to bring about the Kingdom of God in the here and now. As Isaiah foretells in his prophecy of the coming kingdom, “a little child shall lead them.” And we would do well to follow.

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

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Experiencing the Trinity

Trinity Sunday – Year C (RCL)
Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31; Psalm 8; Romans 5:1-5; John 16:12-15
Sunday, May 30, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands

[Following is the original text of the sermon I wrote for Trinity Sunday. I actually preached from an outline instead of a manuscript.]

There’s a famous Far Side cartoon that I’m sure many of you have seen that has a crazed-looking scientist in front of a blackboard. The board is filled with intricate mathematical formulas and calculations. And down in the lower right hand corner, just before the solution, is a clear area with the words “then a miracle happens.” Well, my seminary theology class was sort of like that. In class, we discussed such things as the Trinity and other equally, if not more complicated concepts. At times, it was enough to make your head hurt. In our discussions, we invariably reached a point where we just couldn’t go any further. It was like the scientist who, in order to come to a solution, needed a miracle. Well, our equivalent was “it’s a mystery.” Whenever we reached a point where we couldn’t go any further, the only possible solution was “it’s a mystery.” But that was a cop-out. To prevent us from avoiding struggling with difficult issues, Professor Wondra only allowed us to use “it’s a mystery” in the last ten minutes of class.

When it comes to theological concepts, there are a lot of difficult to understand and certainly a lot of difficult to explain concepts. And we find ourselves faced with one of those today – the Trinity. If this were the last ten minutes of worship, I might be tempted to invoke “it’s a mystery” and be done with it. But I hear Professor Wondra’s voice in my head, telling me to slog through it. So here goes.

When we start talking about the Trinity, we tend to get all theological and almost immediately run into such concepts and descriptions of God as three in one and one in three. We begin to talk about essence and nature and being and persons. And pretty quickly we enter denser terrain, with concepts with obscure Greek names like homoousios, heteroousios , and perichoresis.

As much as clergy dread trying to explain the Trinity, when Trinity Sunday rolls around, we still tend to want to get hung up on the doctrine of the Trinity, with providing explanations of just how the Trinity “works.” As such, we often try to come up with creative analogies to describe how the Trinity works, such as the much used image of the Trinity as being like water, being one substance but existing in three states – liquid, solid, and vapor. Or else we may want to discuss the various functions of the various Persons of the Trinity, such as the Father being the creative force, the Son being catalyst for the act of redemption and salvation, and the Holy Spirit being the guiding, inspiring, and energizing force. Or we want to discuss the relationship aspect, of how the three Persons inter-relate and how this should be a model for Christian community.

Now this is all very interesting, or can be very interesting from an academic perspective. We could have great fun taking any of these approaches, and would certainly learn something about the Trinity in the process. But as I see it, understanding the Trinity, if that is even really possible, is not what’s truly important. We don’t need to know how electricity works before we can switch on a lamp. Likewise, we are not required to understand the intricacies of the Trinity and how “it” works in order to be Christians or to worship God.

Johannes Tauler, a German pastor, writes “To experience the working of the Trinity is better than to talk about it.” I would go one step further. We can talk about the whys and wherefores of the Trinity all we want, but that does not make us Christians. To be Christian, we must experience the Trinity.

If you look at our scripture readings for today, none of them tell us how the Trinity “works.” Rather, all of the readings are intended to help us with our experience of the Trinity. And it is no accident that while today we are exploring the Trinity, the lectionary readings primarily focus on the Holy Spirit. For it is only through the Spirit that we are able to really experience the Trinity in our lives. The Holy Spirit is the Person that connects us with the other two Persons, to the Father and the Son.

Proverbs talks about wisdom and invokes the imagery of Sophia, the personification of Wisdom, which is also used as an image for the Holy Spirit, particularly in the Old Testament. In this passage from Proverbs, Wisdom, the Holy Spirit, is calling out to us. Lady Wisdom reveals something of herself, of her relationship with the Creator, and her place within the Godhead. She delights in humanity and nurtures us. She tenderly woos us, seeking engagement with us. She seeks an intimate relationship with us so that we may be in relationship with the entirety of the Godhead.

Our Gospel reading from John has Jesus focusing on the Spirit, which he has promised will be sent by God following Jesus’ death. Only in passing does he connects the subject of the Spirit with God and with himself. Of primary importance is that the Spirit, whom Jesus refers to as the Sprit of truth, will continue to edify and instruct God’s people, continuing that role that Jesus began before his death. And in addition, the Sprit will provide a guiding and inspiring function.

The Epistle lesson provides the broadest and most useful explanation of our experience of the Trinity. Romans has Paul talking about the Holy Spirit, but in the context of the other two Persons of the Trinity. The central theme that Paul uses is that of faith, and particularly justification by faith – that our justification, in which God forgives our sins and brings us into right relationship with him, is a gift of grace that the Father promises us, a gift that is made possible by Jesus’ death and resurrection, and is received in and through the ministry of the Holy Spirit in our lives – a gift involving all three Persons of the Trinity, requiring all three to be fulfilled. At the end of today’s passage from Roman’s, Paul writes “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” As such, the Holy Spirit is the direct manifestation of God in our lives. It is the way that we most directly and most intimately know God. The Spirit is what provides the connection to the Godhead and to the other persons of the Trinity. The Spirit is what allows us to be directly in relationship with the Father and the Son. While all three Persons of the Trinity are important and necessary, it is the Holy Spirit that allows us to experience the Trinity.

Of course, we experience each Person of the Trinity in different ways, and each of us experience them to varying degrees and in varying ways. Probably the most direct way in which we experience the First Person of the Trinity, the Father, is through God’s creative nature. We probably experience the Father first and foremost through creation, through our encounter with and enjoyment of the natural environment. And while we may not consciously think about it, we encounter the Father in the very fact that we have been created. And not just as any creature, but that we are made in the image and likeness of God.

Probably the most direct way we experience the Son, Jesus Christ, is through our religion and our faith. We are followers of Christ. Our whole belief system is based on the centrality of the Second Person of the Trinity to our experience of the divine, to our experience of the mysterious. Our cognitive experience of the Son comes primarily through the Gospels, the story of his life and the summary of his teachings. But we have a more personal relationship. This is the product of what Christ has directly done for each and every one of us. Through his death and resurrection, he has liberated us from the bondage of sin and death. He has given us new and eternal life. While granted to all humanity, there is still a very personal quality to this act. For many, Christ’s presence in the world is manifest in an abiding friendship, in Jesus Christ as a companion with us on life’s journey.

Trying to generalize the experience of the Holy Spirit is probably more difficult, since the Holy Spirit is a more personal and intimate expression of God’s love, as Paul tells us. Although by and large, most people would probably concur that our experiences of the Holy Spirit tend to come in the form of her inspiration and guidance. This is often manifested in such ways as creativity, intuition, and insight. These are the ways I specifically experience the Holy Spirit. Your own experiences may be different – perhaps more subtle, perhaps more obvious.

Taken together, the varied ways we encounter the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit provide us with our own unique experience of the Trinity – experiences that certainly shape and influence our religious beliefs, but also influence our daily lives. Taken as a whole, our experiences of the Trinity reflect the relationship we have with God, and include three major components: the creative force of the Father, the presence and fellowship of the Son, and the vivifying and energizing force of the Holy Spirit. All these are reflected to one degree or another in our individual lives and experiences of the Trinity.

And these are also reflected in our communal experience of the Trinity. In our case, and given our parish’s history and on-going journey together, I think it is particularly appropriate that this place is named “Trinity.” Throughout our history this parish community has lived out the characteristics of the Trinity. We continue to do so in the present. And as we look to where we see ourselves in the in the future, this parish community is well-poised to continue to live the characteristics of the Trinity. We are actively demonstrating how the Trinity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is experienced in our lives, by going into the world.

God the Father provides the creative force in the world. As a parish, we are currently in the process of inventorying the gifts and talents of our parishioners. We are examining the needs of the community. We are identifying the passions of our members. Very shortly, all this will come together and we will begin looking at new and creative ways that we can do ministry in the community. In that work, we hope to be co-creators with God the Father, using our creative talents and energies, to create something new in this City.

Jesus Christ is the incarnation of the Godhead in our world. During his earthly life and ministry, he was the presence both physical and divine, of God, ministering to those whom he encountered, serving as a witness to the love and mercy of God. And even through his death and resurrection, he continues to be a palpable presence in the lives of his followers. So too, Trinity parish, since its founding, has been a presence in the City of Redlands and surrounding communities, witnessing to the power of God, demonstrating in action the love of God for all people, being the hands and feet of Christ in our little part of the world. We bring the presence of Christ every time we feed the homeless, visit shut-ins, help connect a child with a parent in jail, and in all the many other ways we minister to God’s children.

The Holy Spirit is the vivifying, energizing force that guides and inspires us, giving the energy to do the ministry that we are called to do. So too is Trinity parish an energizing force. Just in the last year, we have started some new and exciting things that are energizing the community – namely Blue Christmas and Las Posadas. The energy of the Spirit, working through this parish helped create these, and there is much energy around the continuation of these activities, bringing new life to the ecumenical work in this community.

None of these things, none of these manifestations of the characteristics of the Trinity would be made possible in Trinity parish if it were not for the direct experience of the Trinity in the lives of each and every one of us. Whether we recognize it or not, it is those experiences of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in our individual lives that bring us here week after week, and prompts us onward to share those experiences with one another and the broader community.

No matter how much we talk about the workings of the Trinity, about the doctrines and theological explanations, it would still just be a bunch of talk, and in the process no real ministry would be done. It is not in the talking, but in the experiencing, that we come to learn and live the true meaning of the Trinity, both individually and as a parish community also called Trinity. And that, my friends, is the secret to addressing the mystery of the Trinity.

Through the experience of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

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The Us and Them Problem

Fifth Sunday of Easter – Year C (RCL)
Acts 11:1-18; Psalm 148; Revelation 2:1-6; John 13:31-35
Sunday, May 2, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands


“If God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?” (Acts 11:17)

The Church has always struggled with an “us and them” problem. At any given point in time, there has been a fence around the church, keeping “them” out, and keeping “us” safe from “their” influence. Those who comprise “them” has varied over the years. People of a particular nationality, persons of color, female clergy, gays and lesbians, the poor, just to name a few. Such division is not new to the Church. In fact, we can trace it back to day one. And our reading from the Acts of the Apostles shows us how the early church dealt with the original “us and them” problem.

In the early days of the church, and we’re literally talking days, there were already factions among those who followed Jesus. The very first Christians were originally Jewish. Early on, tension arose between the Jewish Christians and Gentiles who were beginning to believe in Jesus Christ. Specifically, the tension was over what was required to become a follower of Christ. Many of the Jewish Christians felt that one first needed to convert to Judaism and follow the Jewish laws and ritual practices. Others didn’t feel that this was important, that one could believe in Christ without being Jewish. It was all about defining who’s in and who’s out.

Today’s story has Peter, leader of the Jewish Christian community, embroiled in this very issue as he faces criticism for being in fellowship with Gentile Christians. The criticism levied against him is in reference to what is documented in the previous chapter of Acts, where Peter baptizes Cornelius, a Roman centurion, and his household. And then following the baptism, Peter stays for the reception, eating and consorting with Gentiles, thereby going against Jewish purity laws. Not only that, but in eating with Gentiles, Peter is not only accepting their hospitality, but is also giving tacit approval to their beliefs and practices – their non-Jewish beliefs and practices.

Now I don’t think the other leaders of the Jewish Christian community, the ones criticizing Peter, were against the baptism of Gentiles. That wasn’t the issue. After all, Jesus, before his ascension, commanded them to spread the gospel to the whole world, including the rite of baptism as the means for inclusion in the Body of Christ. Peter was doing just that when he baptized Cornelius and his family. That event was the start of mission to the Gentile world, the mission Jesus had given the disciples. No, what was happening was that the leaders of the church got hung up on the details, on the minutia, of what it meant to proclaim the gospel to the Gentiles. As a result, they missed the point.

Fortunately, Peter could relate to what they were struggling with. He himself had the same struggles just before his encounter with Cornelius. And to help his colleagues out, he relates to them his own struggle with this very issue. He tells them of a vision he had, in which a sheet came down from heaven with all sorts of animals on it. In the vision, God commands him to eat of these animals. When Peter objects, citing that to do so would violate Jewish dietary laws, God counters with the statement, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” Peter immediately understands that the message God is conveying is not about dietary laws per se, but about inclusion – that he wishes all to be included in the church, Jews and Gentiles alike. And with that new understanding, Peter went and baptized Cornelius and his household, welcoming them into the Body of Christ.

This scene of Peter’s vision was obviously of importance to the early church because it is told not just once, but twice. The 10th chapter of Acts contains the first telling of the vision, in real time, as it were. And then in today’s reading from the 11th chapter, Peter retells his vision from a week previous for the benefit of his colleagues. This vision is worthy of repetition in our sacred writings because it was a pivotal moment in the life of the early church, for several reasons. One, it is important precisely because of the intended message – that all are welcomed at the table, Jews and Gentiles alike. And two, because of the process. The various sides in the issue, while holding definite notions about how things should be done, did not become entrenched in their positions. They were open to listening – listening to each other, and listening for the Spirit to guide them. They were genuinely open to discernment of the course of action that would be in keeping with their purpose, with the central message that Jesus Christ proclaimed – that all are welcomed here.

Because of the genuine listening, the willingness to suspend personal agendas, and the willingness to enter into a process of discernment, the leadership of the Jewish Christian community was able to experience a change of heart and mind, just as a week earlier Peter had experienced a change of heart and mind. In fact, it was because of Peter’s witness to the transformation that he had experienced that the other leaders were able to do likewise. This openness to listening, to discernment of the Spirit, to discernment of God’s voice, was the basis for making a decision that would change the face of the early Christian religion, forever altering the course that it would take.

Despite the struggles of our forebears, the Church has not completely learned the lessons contained in those events. As a whole, the Church and the various expressions thereof have continued along the path initially embarked upon by Peter’s critics. Just as they got hung up on who’s in and who’s out, just as they got hung up on the details and the minutia of what it means to worship the “right way,” just as they got hung up on what specifically one had to believe in order to be part of the “true” faith, so have we been guilty throughout the two thousand years of our history.

But rather than beat ourselves up over it, what we need to do is step back and take a look at the lessons of the early church, and re-learn what they have to teach us. And there are two specifics contained in today’s scripture readings that we should heed.

The first comes from the Gospel reading from John. Jesus tells his disciples, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” Loving one another means that we don’t get hung up on who’s in and who’s out, because we recognize that all are welcomed at the table. Loving one another means that we don’t get hung up on the details and the minutia, because that’s not what’s important. Rather than get hung up on, obsessing about, and worshiping the specific way we do things, rather than obsessing about and worshiping our own agendas and preconceived notions, we need to focus on the essentials. And when it comes to living our faith, Jesus’ commandment that we love one another is about as essential as it gets. In all three of the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus tells us that we are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our strength, and with all our mind; and that we are to love our your neighbor as yourself. This is the core. All else flows from this message. If we just try to do that, everything else will take care of itself.

This should be obvious. Yet I am amazed at how often the subject comes up in one way or another. Just this past week, the struggle with this concept came up three times in just one day – in discussions at two Eucharists and one Bible study, all involving different readings, different people, different contexts. But the discussion always came around to the essentials of faith and the necessity of focusing on what is truly important and not obsessing about the extra trappings.

The second lesson from the early church is how they dealt with disagreement. In our own time, we tend to deal with disagreements through debate. Each side attempts to present their best arguments, substantiated by all sorts of Biblical evidence and theological justifications. Well that just doesn’t work most of the time. If anything, argument and debate only serve to solidify differences, to cause us to become more entrenched in our own positions, more determined to prove ourselves right. But that wasn’t how the early church operated, at least not the model for church lifted up in Acts 11. Peter didn’t present theological debates about why the church should include Gentiles. Instead, he told a story. Why? Because stories invite people into the process. Stories show how God has worked in our lives, and those hearing the stories may be able to relate them to their own lives and experiences. And when we look at our lives and experiences, we find that, regardless of our positions on various issues, we are not so different after all. We find that we share core values and beliefs, and that the other trappings are not that important in the grand scheme of things.

Remember, when confronted with disagreements, Jesus did not use debate or theological arguments. He used parables, stories, to make his point. Because stories change lives, arguments do not. Stories allow for the finding of common ground, while debates only serve to divide and to perpetuate separation. This is because debate comes from within ourselves, born of our own motives and agendas, whereas story and discernment come from outside ourselves, born of the desire for clarity and openness. Debate makes no room for God. Story and discernment make room for God to work. As one pastor notes, “If we would only learn to be story tellers and tell compelling stories . . . we could leave the rest up to the Spirit who takes up where stories end” (Jones, 455).

As we continue to grow and to expand our mission and ministry out into the world, we may at times be confronted with some of the same issues as the early church – to become obsessed with identifying who’s in and who’s out, to get hung up on inconsequential details and minutia because it can seem safer and less messy for “us” than dealing with “them” out there. Instead, we need to refocus, remembering what is essential – love of God and love of neighbor – and to recall our own stories of how God and neighbor have been at work in our own lives, to share those stories, and then to step back and let the Spirit guide us where it will. For who are we that we could hinder God?

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


References
Stephen D. Jones. “Acts 11:1-18, Homiletical Perspective.” In Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary – Year C, Volume 2, Lent Through Eastertide. Edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

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Post-Resurrection Experiences

Third Sunday of Easter – Year C (RCL)
Acts 9:1-6, (7-20); Psalm 30; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19
Sunday, April 18, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands


In today’s Gospel reading we have John’s last reported encounter between the Risen Christ and his disciples, sometime after the encounter between Christ and Thomas, which we explored last week. Seven of the remaining eleven disciples are hanging out at the Sea of Tiberias, possibly for a little R&R. After all, they are overwhelmed by the events of the previous week or so – Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, their last Passover meal with Jesus, his betrayal by Judas Iscariot, Jesus’ arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, his trial before Pontius Pilate, his flogging and humiliation, and then his crucifixion like a common criminal at Golgotha. And then, as if all that weren’t enough, three days later, Jesus was resurrected, and appeared several times to various of their number. This was almost more than a group of simple fisherman from Galilee could take. They need to take a break from all this disciple stuff. And what better way to do that than to return to some semblance of normalcy, something safe and comfortable, to go back to what they had done before this wild ride began three years before. So they return to the seaside and go fishing.

But alas, they aren’t going to get much of a break. For Jesus manages to track them down even here. What ensues is really three short stories that are woven together to create a larger tapestry. At first Jesus shows up but the disciples don’t recognize who he is – just like all the previous post-resurrection appearances. The disciples have been fishing all night but have caught nothing. So, Jesus offers some advice on fishing technique. And in so doing, he also provides a miracle resulting in the catching of a great number of fish – 153 to be exact. In this miracle the disciples recognize who he is. In the second scene, the disciples have finished bringing their great haul of fish ashore. And there is Jesus, waiting for them. And he’s even cooked breakfast for them, providing them with much needed and appreciated sustenance. And in the third scene following breakfast, we have the famous exchange between Jesus and Simon Peter in which Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him, and each time, with increasing frustration, Peter responds that of course he loves Jesus.

On the surface, this may seem just another encounter between the Risen Christ and his disciples, complete with miracle, meal, and mentoring. But what is presented is really much more than that. It is really an epilogue to the Gospel According to John. And like most epilogues, it serves to wrap up the entire story presented thus far. Or in this case, it doesn’t so much wrap up the story as it reveals that the story really does not end, but continues, and what we are to expect in its continuation. In this respect, the story is not so much about Christ’s encounter with the disciples as it is about our encounter with the Risen Lord. In this, the disciples are stand-ins for us. The disciples merely portray how the Risen Lord will, and does, work in the lives of those who carry on the story. And that would be us.

As I see it, the totality of today’s Gospel reading provides us with an overarching lesson about our relationship with our Risen Lord. And each of the three component stories provides us with a more specific characteristic of that relationship.

Probably the most significant lesson about our relationship with the Risen Christ is revealed in the way in which he enters into the Gospel story. Namely, the Risen Christ breaks into our everyday lives, meeting us wherever we’re at in any given moment, even though, like the first disciples, we may not recognize his presence. Just as Jesus came to the disciples at the Sea of Tiberias where they were fishing, be it recreational or for purposes of earning a living, so too the Risen Christ breaks into our lives and is present to us not only in church on Sundays, not only in our times of prayer and private devotions, but even in our times of recreation, times with our families and friends, and even while we are at work. Prior to his crucifixion, Jesus promised his disciples and all who would be his followers that he would be with them always. That is part of what it means to be the Body of Christ – as members of that Body, with Christ as its head, we are always connected with him, he is always with us. Now, more often than not, we don’t necessarily realize it. We may not be consciously aware that Christ is with us. Not unlike in our Gospel reading when Jesus shows up at the Sea of Tiberias but the disciples do not initially recognize who he is. Of course, nowadays, Christ does not generally appear to us bodily, but in other forms. That makes it even more difficult to recognize him. Certainly he is there, dwelling within us in and through his Spirit. But he is also present to us in more external ways – most notably through other people. In his Rule, St. Benedict discusses how one of the keys to our spiritual lives is to be open to seeing Christ in those whom we encounter. But whether we recognize him or not, Christ is always in our lives, always present, always available.

Each of the three mini-stories comprising today’s Gospel reading provides a lesson that exemplifies the ways in which the Risen Christ is present to us and active in our lives.

In the first story Jesus shows up and learns that the disciples, despite having fished all night, have not caught any fish. He tells them “cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” And with that “advice” the disciples catch so many fish that they are not able to haul in the net. Now he doesn’t always provide miracles in our lives, but the Risen Lord does continue to guide us in our lives. This guidance is provided in more formal ways through Scripture and through the teachings of the church, through educational programs and worship experiences. And it is provided in more informal ways through our connections with each other; in the ways we counsel, support, and challenge each other; in the ways we help each other discern our callings, and in holding each other accountable for living the Gospel.

In the second story, the disciples finish their fishing adventure and come ashore, where they find that Jesus has been busy cooking breakfast for them. This demonstrates that the Risen Lord continues to bless and nourish us. While not always nourished in a physical senses, although sometimes food and drink given us can seem as if a blessing from God, most of our blessings and nourishment come through spiritual means – through the presence, comfort, and guidance of the Holy Spirit. One of the particular ways in which we continue to be blessed and fed directly by our Risen Lord is every time we gather around God’s table to make Eucharist. In this meal, the simple elements of bread and wine become for us the Body and Blood of Christ. In partaking of these elements, though providing only a mere taste with a token of physical nourishment, we are provided with spiritual food and the gifts and graces that nourish us for the continuing ministry that Christ has called us to.

And in the third story, Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him. This exchange is often seen as a parallel to Peter’s earlier threefold denial of Jesus, in which Jesus is rehabilitating Peter, testing his conviction, redeeming his previous unfaithfulness. This exchange is also sometimes seen as Jesus’ commissioning of Peter, and calling him to the ministry and the faithfulness that Jesus knows Peter is capable of. Regardless of Jesus’ specific intent in questioning Peter three times about his devotion, it is clear that even in light of the fact that just a week or two before Peter had denied his Lord and Master three times, Jesus is giving Peter another chance. Jesus knows where Peter’s true heart lies, where his true devotion lies, and is willing to overlook past indiscretions and allow Peter to grow into his true calling. So too, with us the Risen Lord does not focus on the past, on where we may have fallen short or royally messed up. Instead, he is able to see deep within us to what we are capable of, to see where our true devotion lies. And because he is willing to look beyond past mistakes, he gives us all second chances. And third chances. And fourth chances. And as many chances as we need. All he asks is that we take responsibility for the ways in which we have fallen short, recognize how we have failed, and to sincerely work to turn ourselves around and try to get back on the right path.

As the Great Fifty Days of Easter progress, we continue to explore the ways that the Risen Christ manifested himself to his disciples, providing them with the final instruction they would need as they prepared to continue the ministry Jesus had begun, as they prepared to carry the Gospel out into the world. The words he spoke to the first century disciples, the lessons he attempted to impart, are also meant for us, the 21st century disciples who continue in our own day the ministry Jesus began. Even though he is no longer physically present, even though he no longer makes regular post-resurrection appearances to us, he is with us nonetheless – breaking into our everyday lives, guiding us, feeding and nourishing us, giving us all the chances we need to live into what he is asking us to do in his name. For the Easter story does not end with the cessation of Christ’s post-resurrection appearances to his disciples. The story continues right up to the present, and is being constantly played out as the Risen Lord makes his presence felt and known in the lives of each and every one of us. In that, we are all witnesses to post-resurrection experiences, if we just take a closer look.

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

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Blessed Are Those Who Question

Second Sunday of Easter – Year C (RCL)
Acts 5:27-32; Psalm 118:14-29; Revelation 1:4-8; John 20:19-31
Sunday, April 11, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands


“Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” (Jn 20:29)

When you consider this statement by Jesus in light of how everyone has reacted thus far to the various resurrection appearances, it’s nothing short of a miracle that we are even here today. Everyone who witnessed a post-resurrection appearance of Christ initially had a hard time believing what they were experiencing. We start off on Easter morning with Mary Magdalene going to the tomb and finding it empty. After telling the disciples, she has a direct encounter with the Risen Lord, but she does not recognize him until he calls her name. Once she has the confirmation she needs that it is indeed her Master, she runs and tells the disciples what she has experienced. But later that evening, when the Risen Christ appears in their midst as they hid in fear in a locked room, they don’t seem to recognize him, even though Mary has told them that Jesus had indeed risen. Only when he speaks and shows them the wounds in his hands and his side do they recognize him. When they tell Thomas what had happened, that they have seen the Risen Lord, he doesn’t believe them. He needs to see for himself. A week later, he gets his wish. Jesus appears to him and invites Thomas to touch his wounds. Without even having to touch them, he knows that this is indeed his Master. None of them – Mary, the ten, or Thomas – initially believe, despite the facts that they are Jesus’ closest companions, despite the fact that he had prepared them for this, telling them on more than one occasion that he would be killed in Jerusalem and then would be raised up on the third day.

What I particularly find amazing is that despite his own followers, those who knew him best, having a hard time believing his resurrection, that so many people afterwards came to believe. If the eyewitnesses to the resurrection had such a hard time believing, how could those who had not been there be expected to believe? Mary and the disciples were ultimately able to believe because they saw the Risen Lord, had direct contact with him, were able to verify that he was who he said he was, that what he claimed had indeed happened. “Have you believed because you have seen me?” Well, yes.

We don’t know for sure how many people actually had first-hand experiences of seeing the Risen Lord. Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians tells us that in addition to the eleven disciples, he appeared to “more than five hundred brothers and sisters” (1 Cor 15:5-8). But despite only appearing to a total of, say six hundred people max, many more people than that have believed. In the time since Christ’s resurrection, literally billions of people have believed in the Risen Lord, despite not having first-hand knowledge, despite having no proof. “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” To me, this is truly a miracle.

When I hear Jesus’ words, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe,” I cannot help but think of a former co-worker of mine. Karen was one of the staff biologists at the consulting firm I used to work for. She was a top-notch scientist, but also struggled with issues of faith. She had been raised Roman Catholic, but had drifted away from the church sometime earlier in her life. It was during the early years of my friendship with Karen that I had a re-awakening or a renewal of my faith journey. It was during this time that I found the Episcopal Church and was launched headlong into parish life and intensive exploration of my own spiritual path. Karen was aware of all of this and we would often have conversations about religion and spirituality. Being the consummate scientist, I think some of this was a challenge for Karen. Once she set her mind on figuring out or understanding something, she was tenacious. And while she saw no conflict between science and religion, I think she tried to approach religion from a more scientific, rationalistic perspective to seek answers, which just didn’t work. This was a cause of great frustration for her. Karen and I were very much alike in a lot of ways. Professionally we were both in fields that required logical, orderly approaches to issues and problems. And I think what was frustrating for her was that I was somehow able to suspend my engineering brain when it came to matters of religion and faith, whereas she did not quite know how to do that. On more than one occasion she would say to me that she saw how important my faith was to me and that she wished she could have that experience, too. She would ask me how she could “get” what I had.

I felt so helpless. I really wanted to help her, but didn’t know how. All I could tell her was that the expression of faith is unique to the individual and that we all have our own path to realizing that. As such, there is no way I could know, let alone tell her, what was right for her. All I could do was invite her to go to church with me, which she did regularly. Now that wouldn’t have worked for some people. But since Karen had a basic foundation due to her early years in the church, and a profound desire to explore her faith, to try to understand it, she would have a fighting chance.

Karen did join the Episcopal Church and seemed to find some satisfaction in our tradition and the broadness that it affords. I have lost touch with Karen, but I sometimes wonder, particularly when this Gospel lesson rolls around in the lectionary, if she ever found what she was looking for. And I often think that Karen and Thomas are two peas in a pod. Actually, I think it’s a pretty big pod, with lots of people keeping company with Thomas and Karen.

So what do we do with Thomas? Based on today’s Gospel lesson, he gets the moniker “Doubting Thomas” and has become the poster child for anyone who doubts, who refused to believe something without direct, physical evidence – even if it’s obvious to the rest of us. Well frankly, Thomas gets a bum rap. A lot of people get the idea that because Thomas had doubts as to whether Jesus had risen and appeared to the other ten apostles, that he lacked faith.

But that’s not really fair. Because up until now, Thomas had not had the opportunity to question his faith, to struggle with what he truly believed. Up until now, Thomas and the others had traveled with Jesus and witnessed all sorts of signs and miracles that pointed the way to who Jesus was, to elicit faith in him as the Messiah, the holy one of God. Up until now, everything about Jesus had been proven to them. And now, when a new situation involving Jesus presents itself, Thomas would have rightly expected some sort of proof, just as had been provided in the past. I don’t think Thomas did not believe as much as his faith was clouded by uncertainty. And when it comes to faith, that is not necessarily a bad thing.

Alan Jones, the former dean of Grace Cathedral, often quotes an unnamed English monk who once said “The opposite of faith isn’t doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty.” Many people think faith and certainty go hand-in-hand. But in reality, when one is certain, particularly in matters of faith, he puts God in a box. When one is certain, there is nothing else to learn on the matter. Certainty closes off the need for or the possibility of questioning or further exploration. Certainty eliminates mystery. And what is our faith and religion if not built on mystery? Doubt, on the other hand asks us to open our minds to possibility. Doubt is about entertaining questions. Doubt invites us to go deeper in our exploration of the unknown, of ourselves, and of our God. Doubt invites us to enter into mystery, to experience the joy that it has to offer.

Episcopal priest Philip Culbertson goes one step further than Alan Jones. Culbertson believes “Doubt is . . . a crucial ingredient in faith. Faith and doubt have a sort of yin-yang relationship – dependent, complementary, energizing and focusing one another. Doubt is the energy of inquiry. Faith is never lost through the fearless search for truth. And so it was with Thomas. His initial doubting leads him to proclaim one of the greatest faith statements of the New Testament . . . ‘my Lord and my God’” (Culbertson, 24). He could not have made such a statement had he initially lacked faith, had he not had a core faith waiting to be brought forth to the surface, a faith wanting to be deepened.

In addition to his underlying faith that just needed to be coaxed forward, Thomas had one other thing that, as I see it, helped him through his period of doubt. Even in his doubts and uncertainty, Thomas was part of a community of faith, namely the other ten apostles. Even though he had his doubts, the community did not reject him. I cannot help but think that the other ten apostles supported him, maybe tried to help him work through his questions and his doubts. After all, what we tend to forget is that a week before, they were where Thomas is now. When Jesus initially appeared before them, they did not know what to make of him. They did not immediately recognize Jesus. While they did not specifically ask for proof, they were provided with it. They heard his voice, they saw the wounds in his hands and his side. In those signs they were assured that this was indeed their Risen Lord. Thomas was not asking for anything that they themselves had not had the opportunity to experience. Maybe they used their experiences of doubt to help Thomas deal with his own doubts.

That’s probably the most important lesson for us, removed two millennia from the resurrection event. We are those whom Jesus was talking about when he said “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” We have not had the benefit of the experiences of the ten apostles on Easter Day. We have not had the opportunity to experience Jesus as Thomas did a week later. Yet, through the witness of innumerable saints over the last two thousand years, through the testimonies of scripture, and through the abiding conviction of our own faith communities, we are able to believe that our Lord is risen. That does not mean that we do not at times question the veracity of the event, wonder about the specific details, the whys and wherefores. Such events are hard to fathom. Such questioning is natural, and if anything, helps us to further our faith – particularly when done in community – through Bible studies, through various groups in the parish such as Daughters of the King, ACES (Adult Christians Exploring Spirituality), and the Companions of Sts Benedict and Scholastica, and even through our informal conversations.

At one time or another, we are all Thomases and Karens. And at other times, we are part of the ten apostles, supporting the Thomases and Karens in our midst. And no matter where we are in our struggles, as long as we have that core faith that keeps us coming back even in the midst of our doubts, we will always be the blessed who may not have seen with our eyes, but have nonetheless seen how the Risen Christ has touched our lives and the lives of others, and because of that proof, cannot help but believe.

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


References
Culbertson, Philip L., et al. New Proclamation: Year C, 2010, Easter through Christ the King. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009.

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The Light That Burns Forever

Great Vigil of Easter – Year C (RCL)
Romans 6:3-11; Psalm 114; Luke 24:1-12
Saturday, April 3, 2010 – Trinity, Redlands


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

Yes, the Lord is risen indeed. These are probably the most beautiful words ever spoken. For these words point to what salvation history is all about. These words reveal the priceless gift God has given us. These words contain the foundation of our faith as Christians. All else flows from the fact that our Lord is risen.

That’s what this whole night has been about. It has been about the fulfillment of salvation history. In the vigil, we started off with the story of our creation in the image and likeness of God and continued with stories emphasizing God’s love for his people, his desire to protect them, and provide for them. These are the stories of a God seeking to be in relationship with us, and for us to be reconciled to God. And while we did our best, we still could not quite live up to what God wanted. We just had a hard time trying to be in relationship with a God who we could not see, who we could not touch. We humans need face-to-face, flesh-against-flesh relationship.

So, it became evident to God that a new covenant was needed, one in which God would come in the flesh, becoming one of us. So it was that God became flesh through Jesus to establish that face-to-face, flesh-to-flesh relationship with us. But even so, there was still a divide that precluded the type of relationship, the complete reconciliation that God desired. That divide was the sinfulness of humanity. Elimination of that sinfulness would require a sacrifice so huge that we could not possibly pay it. There was only one person who could – he who was totally human and totally divine –Jesus, the only begotten son of God. And so Jesus willingly took all the sins of humanity – your sins and my sins – upon himself, so that in his death, those sins would be forgiven and erased. And God allowed this because he loves us so much that he was willing to suffer the ultimate sacrifice, that of his only son, so that our relationship with him, reconciliation with him, might be secured for all time.

That was Good Friday. But on this night, God’s desire is fulfilled. Christ has been resurrected. And in so doing, he has broken down the barrier of sin and destroyed its hold on our lives. He has defeated the bonds of evil and death. Death no longer has dominion over humanity. In breaking those bonds, he has insured for each and every one of us forgiveness of our sins. In washing away our sins, we are made a new creation reconciled with God and promised the joy of eternal life.

The death of Jesus on the cross was not the end of the story. Even his resurrection is not the end of the story. It is just the beginning. On this night, we are all there, at the tomb, along with Mary Magdalene and the other women, witnessing for ourselves the empty tomb, coming to terms with what it means for us that our Lord has risen. In that we are all witnesses to the resurrection. We are all apostles. And our job as apostles is to take the message of the Risen Christ, of God’s promise of forgiveness and eternal life, into the world. That is our sacred responsibility and our solemn vow as members of the Body of Christ. For in a few minutes, we will renew our Baptismal vows, acknowledging that “through the Paschal mystery . . . we are buried with Christ by Baptism into his death, and raised with him to newness of life” (BCP, 292). One of those Baptismal vows we will reaffirm is that we “proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ” (BCP, 293). And the news doesn’t get any better than that Christ is risen.

One of my favorite stories about the Easter Vigil and about proclaiming the Risen Christ is a story about St. Patrick.

Every year, the Druids celebrated the festival of Beltane at the time of the Spring Equinox. The festival was held at Tara, the seat of the High King of Ireland. As part of the festival, the Druid priests would light a great ceremonial fire atop the Hill of Tara, from which all other fires in the land would be lit. In preparation for the festival, all fires, inside and out, in the vicinity of Tara were to be extinguished. Law required that no other fires were allowed to burn in the vicinity of the great festival fire. Any such fire would be considered blasphemous, punishable by death.

In the year 433, the eve of Easter happened to coincide with the Spring Equinox and hence, the festival of Beltane. That year, Patrick decided to celebrate the Easter Vigil atop the Hill of Slane, 10 miles across the valley from and in direct line of sight of Tara. And of course, the Vigil started with the Service of Light and the lighting of the new fire, just as we did this night. But this wasn’t just a little fire that might go unnoticed. This was a bonfire bright enough to be seen for miles, in direct violation of Druidic law. The High King and the Druid priests at Tara watched in surprise, horror, and anger as the first fire of Easter burned in the distance – an obvious affront to their beliefs. According to tradition, one Druid priest said to the High King, “If that fire isn’t put out tonight, it will burn forever.”

Outraged, King Laeghaire (pron. Leary) led his army to the Hill of Slane to arrest the rebel responsible for this blasphemous act. Due to Patrick’s eloquent preaching, the King was quickly pacified and rather than being arrested and executed, Patrick was allowed to preach to the pagan army and further extend the light of Christ throughout Ireland. The Druid priest was right in his prediction. That Paschal fire on the Hill of Slane was not put out, at least figuratively. And its light has continued to burn throughout Ireland to this day.

I started off this homily by saying that this night has been about the fulfillment of salvation history. Well, that’s not entirely true. The story is not over. The story is only beginning. And it is our job to continue to tell the story, to live the story of salvation, of the ongoing hope and promise of forgiveness and new life that is only made possible by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Tonight a new light is shining in the world through the resurrection of our Lord. Through us that light will burn forever, as we continue to boldly proclaim to the world:

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

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