Canterbury Evening Prayer Reflection 1

Reflection on Luke 4:14-30

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Ephphatha!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


References

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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First Searmon at St. Alban's Westwood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Farewell Sermon at St. Francis of Assisi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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First Sermon as an Ordained Person

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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