June 16, 2013 - Proper 6C

Lectionary Text (Track 1)

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

            So often the Old Testament presents us with the most illustrious and captivating stories in all of the Bible, and today’s reading from 1 Kings is no exception. It would make a great opera, as it has all the needed tragic and dramatic elements. It tells the story of the king of Israel, Ahab, and his wife, a princess from Phoenicia who follows other gods, Jezebel, and their plot against the Israelite Naboth. It is an old story, but one full of wisdom for us today. It should be rather obvious after hearing this reading that one of the major themes deals with justice.

And to put us in the right frame of mind, I’d like to begin with a quote from Archbishop Desmond Tutu- “I don’t preach a social gospel; I preach the Gospel, period. When people were hungry, Jesus didn’t say ‘Now is this political or social?’ He said ‘I feed you.’ Because the Gospel to a hungry person is bread.” I begin with this quote because, at times, this might sound like a political sermon. At times, I will say thing that sound like they’ve been taken from a Republican stump speech. At other places, you might hear me as Democratic speech writer. And other times, I just might sound plain crazy. But I want to make it clear: I am simply preaching the text as it was read this morning, pointing toward the Gospel truths.

As Americans, we’re obsessed with the law and justice, and our reading from 1 Kings is very much concerned with law and justice. Supreme Court cases get major media attention, we have several shows about law and order, and courtroom drama is now its own television genre. And in particular, the Constitution has become our focal point. We look to it to discover what is right and what is wrong. But anyone willing to give our country an honest look will soon realize that the Constitution does not lead to justice. We have billion dollar mud-slinging contests to decide who will win the White House every four years, and perhaps the most important job that any president has is appointing Supreme Court justices. And not even for one moment does anyone seriously think that any president will appoint impartial judges to the court; but instead they stack the court with like-minded people. As the prophet Habakkuk notes, “the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous-- therefore judgment comes forth perverted.” And he might as well be talking to modern day America. One has to wonder if what we have is actually a justice system, or rather a punishment and revenge system.

One of the themes that we’ll run into in 1 Kings is the problem of idolatry. And we have made the Constitution an idol. But compared the Word of God, the Constitution is just a piece of paper with ink smeared on it. The justice of our courts is nothing compared to the justice of God. King Ahab of Israel forgot that. He didn’t have our Constitution, but he had his own vision of how a nation should be run. He turned from the Covenant with God, making idols out of everything. And we have begun to do the same. So let this story about Ahab and Naboth be a reminder to us that we keep our focus on God’s law and not laws that we create to suit our own desires and needs.

As we enter the text, it begins with a simple business proposition- “Give me your vineyard, so that I may have it for a vegetable garden, because it is near my house; I will give you a better vineyard for it; or, if it seems good to you, I will give you its value in money.” Ahab is committing the sin of coveting. He wants what is not his. And if this doesn’t speak to our human nature of being selfish and materialistic, then I don’t know what does. Here we have the king of Israel, with more land than he could ever need, with two palaces, with armies and servants, and yet he still isn’t satisfied. He still wants more. He isn’t content with what he has.

And how often do we fall into that pattern? We all do it, so there’s no sense denying it. As St. Augustine said, “our hearts are restless, O Lord, until they rest in thee.” But we put our hearts in other places. We have other priorities that end up higher on the list than God. We have soccer tournaments that keep us from church, we have budgets that focus more on our own standard of living than the standard of living of those homeless people that live in our communities, we put our faith in political leaders who are just as corrupt as Ahab and Jezebel. We live in a culture of planned obsolescence, always wanting the next best thing. We have all committed the sin of Ahab.

Ahab shows us the dangers of desire; the evils that can come through coveting. You perhaps have seen in the news over the past few weeks the unfolding saga of the young girl in need of a lung transplant and the action of her parents to move her to the top of the transplant list. Now I’m all for a parent doing everything in their power to help their child, nothing wrong with that. But where sin enters the picture is when it devolves into coveting in the way that Ahab did. The problem comes when we focus on our own needs and desires above and against the needs and desires of others. In all of the media coverage, I have yet to hear about what happens to those who get “leap-frogged” on the transplant list; as those parents who have enough money to hire lawyers and create a media-storm seem to get whatever they want, while not considering how their actions might affect others. We often say “you have to follow your heart and be true to yourself.” And the danger in this is that we make desire our ethical standard. We must consider where our desires leads us.

Ahab didn’t consider what taking the land of Naboth might do to him. Ahab commits the sin of saying “I want,” and that is where the whole debacle begins. When we covet, we lose ourselves. Perhaps nowhere is this better illustrated than in the character of the same name in the novel Moby Dick, Captain Ahab. The captain becomes obsessed with catching the white whale, and is willing to sacrifice is ship, the lives of his crew, and his own live in chasing what he covets. It consumes his entire life, and he exclaims “to the last, I grapple with thee; from hell’s heart, I stab at thee; for hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee.” When we covet as Ahab, both the captain and the king, did, we lose our relationship with ourselves and with others.

So after this proposition is made, Naboth responds to the king, “The Lord forbid that I should give you my ancestral inheritance.” Ancient laws in Israel prohibited the selling or trading of land, as the land was seen as a gift from God to the family. Even when the law was ignored and land transactions did happen, every 50 years, when the Jubilee year came, the land would revert to the original owner. Naboth was not willing to forget who he was. Ahab was after something that he could not have, and Naboth respected God’s law, even though Naboth stood to gain a lot of money or an even better homestead.

There is an interesting point in Ahab’s speech- he says that he wants to turn Naboth’s land into a vegetable garden. It seems innocent on the surface, but there is a deeper meaning. The other time in the Bible where a vegetable garden is referenced is in Deuteronomy 11:10, where God says “For the land that you are about to enter to occupy is not like the land of Egypt, from which you have come, where you sow your seed and irrigate by foot like a vegetable garden.” Ahab intends to take the Promised Land, a land flowing with milk and honey, and turn it into a new Egypt, a place of slavery, a place of oppression, a place without God’s justice. And so Naboth refuses to allow this atrocity to happen.

Ahab returns home and sulks. He is so overrun by jealousy and covetousness that he has made himself sick to the point where he can’t even eat. Jezebel enters the story, and seeks to console her husband. She says “Do you now govern Israel? Get up, eat some food, and be cheerful; I will give you the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite.” For the first time in the story, we see the wisdom of that old phrase on display- “absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

What I find to be perhaps the most disturbing part of this whole story is that Ahab doesn’t say anything in response to Jezebel. He does not ask, “how are you going to do that?” He doesn’t say “you can talk to Naboth about it, but be mindful of God’s justice.” Instead, he just sits there, complicit in the evil that he knows is about to be done. At the end of the passage, justice comes down on Ahab, reminding us that we are responsible for the actions of those under us. If you’d like a modern example of how this works, I suggest you ask President Obama about it. When we turn a blind eye or abdicate responsibility, the entire house of cards will fall and it will come crashing down on us.

We should also consider how we are like Ahab at this point in the narrative. What are we complicit in? When do we look the other way when it benefits us? There is a great alternative form of the Confession, that, in part, prays “We repent of the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.” And it’s a great line- the evil done on our behalf. For the most part, if we have a comfortable life, it is the direct result of someone living an uncomfortable life.

I’d like to draw your attention to the growing movement in Raleigh known as Moral Mondays. It is a group of faithful people gathering to peacefully protest against the disgusting legislation being presented before our State legislature. The issue is that the North Carolina General Assembly is considering bills that will remove Medicaid and unemployment benefits from many; that would add a consumption tax that will adversely impact the poor, who will face increased prices on basic goods; and that will force college students to return to their often distant homes to vote, seeking to control election outcomes. In short, the Biblical teachings and imperatives to protect the poor, respect the stranger, care for widows and children, and love our neighbors are being ignored, much in the same way that Ahab and Jezebel ignored God’s justice in favor of their own desires and power.

Do we really think that $4 gasoline, out of season vegetables in every grocery store, and $10 jeans have no repercussions? There is a price to be paid for convenience, but we’re not the one’s paying it. Naboth is. And far too often, we are like Ahab, turning a blind eye so that we can get what we want. The saying is “out of sight, out of mind,” but nothing is out of God’s sight.

And so Jezebel begins scheming, and commits several evils in the process. This is the ultimate nightmare as far as Biblical crimes go. In this one story, Jezebel orchestrates and compounds the sins of Adam, Cain, and David. First, she creates a national crisis by proclaiming a fast. This decree would be as if the president instituted martial law as a means of preventing voters from going to the polls; it is an extreme abuse of power that would have caused panic. It was a way for Jezebel to control the situation and not give Naboth a chance. The fast would have been declared as a way of making amends to God. It was a way of saying, “there is a sinner in our midst, so we need to fast and find them, lest God’s judgment come down on us all.” It’s a rather heinous act to appeal to God’s justice as a way of perverting that same justice. And I can’t help but think of the infatuation that Fox News has had with Benghazi over the past 6 months as a modern day parallel of having an inquisition and crisis for political gain. In both cases, it is a distraction so that people don’t pay attention to the other issues that are going on. And Jezebel is setting Naboth up for doom by creating the conspiracy of someone having angered God.

She then lies and bears false witness, both in concocting the story, but also in signing decrees in Ahab’s name. Naboth’s initial response was “The Lord forbid that I should give you my ancestral inheritance.” Jezebel likely committed the same crime that every news outlet commits on a daily basis- she probably just misquoted Naboth. It is quite likely that she reports Naboth to have said “The Lord forbid that I not give you my ancestral inheritance.” And in doing so, Naboth was swearing an oath before God, and then breaking it by not giving the land to Ahab. And so the trumped up charges of “cursing God and the king” begin to stick. Words are powerful, they can be used to build up or tear down. And Jezebel’s twisting of words urges us to consider how we use them.

Jezebel’s plan is working perfectly, and Naboth ends up being stoned to death for blasphemy against God. This is perhaps one of the greatest crimes that we can ever commit: the killing of an innocent. As I mentioned before, we have an imperfect criminal justice system. We are not God. And so why we insist on utilizing the death penalty is beyond me. This story clearly shows that the death penalty can be improperly applied. Naboth was put to death, following the exact laws of the land- there were two witnesses that corroborated the crime. And as we’ve seen, DNA results have cleared those wrongly convicted, the death penalty is unfairly applied to minorities, and it doesn’t really bring about any sort of justice, but instead focuses on vengeance.

And now that the land owner has been killed for violating God’s law, the king can rightfully take the land instead of it staying with the family, who now has a cursed name. This is the last of the evils that Ahab and Jezebel do. The prophet Elijah comes to Ahab and asks “Have you killed, and also taken possession?” The end of the plot has finally been realized, Ahab has the land. It is a story about the ultimate abuse of power.

You’ll recall the story of King Midas, the king who turned everything he touched to gold, which wasn’t so bad until he touched his daughter and turned her into a statue. Power weakens those who are eager enough to exploit it. King Ahab will live to experience this truth, as Elijah tells him “In the place where dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood…Because you have sold yourself to do what is evil in the sight of the Lord, I will bring disaster on you.” There is an old hymn that sings “this is my Father’s world, oh let me never forget / that though the wrong seems oft so strong / God is the ruler yet.” It is a truth that Ahab would come to learn, and we would do well to remember that lesson.

So what do we do in response to a story like this? How do we live faithfully when justice is so often perverted? We forgive. Justice unravels when we lose sight of who we are in relation to God. Once justice is broken, it is awfully hard to restore. Somehow, we must break the downward spiral of justice and injustice, the cycle of retribution, the vendettas of vindictiveness. And forgiveness is the one thing that can do this.

To some of us, forgiveness in the face of the evils of Ahab and Jezebel might seem naïve or soft.  We worry that we’re not doing anything to stop these evils from happening again. And we end up pushing forgiveness aside, because we think it gets in the way of justice. So we charge into the situation with our own vision of what justice should look like, and the pursuit of justice becomes an idol for us, and before long, we can’t remember if we’re Naboth or Ahab.

We must remember that justice belongs to God. Though the sins we commit are horizontal, going from person to person, there is also a vertical element to our sin. We sin against God just as much as we do others when we violate divine justice.

To be clear, forgiveness isn’t the last thing that Christians are to say in the face of injustice; but it is to be the first thing. We say, “you can harm me, but you can’t take away my allegiance to Christ. You can be cruel to me, but you can’t make me become like you. You can hate me, but I can forgive you.” Forgiveness is God’s justice; it is the way to make things right and restore order. Of course, repentance and restitution have to be part of the equation, but without forgiveness, the cycles will never be broken.

As the former dean of Duke Chapel, Samuel Wells, writes, “why do we forgive? Because Jesus in his cross and resurrection has released the most powerful energy in the universe and we want to be a part of it. Why do we forgive? Because Jesus is dying for us to forgive.” And he goes on to say that forgiveness is the Christian word for justice. When Christ came earth and entered the vineyard, he didn’t come as an Ahab to claim authority and bring about revenge; he came as Naboth, a man who was killed on false charges. And the way that Jesus sought justice wasn’t in condemning the wrong, but it was in saying “Father, forgive them.”

It’s a rich story about justice and forgiveness. We see the problems created by the sins of idolatry, the dangers of desire, and the evil scheming to get whatever we want, regardless of the cost to others. This ancient story gives us a good opportunity to consider justice in our own lives and nation. Where do we sit by and let justice be perverted? Are we able to recognize those moments when we are Ahab or Jezebel and need to be forgiven?

If only we could be a people who were known for forgiveness instead of being obsessed with the law and our own idea of justice. Perhaps when modern day Elijahs confront us, we will repent of our sin. Perhaps then we could be less like Jezebel and Ahab. Perhaps then the Kingdom might come on earth as it is in heaven.

June 9, 2013 - Proper 5C

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

            Well today is a busy day- we have two young children to welcome and initiate into the household of God through the Sacrament of Baptism, and during the announcements we’ll be recognizing Mike Taylor for his exceptional and dedicated ministry at St. Francis as our facilities manager as he departs to work for Habitat for Humanity in Wilmington.

            The lectionary this morning presents us with two very similar stories about widows who lose their only sons and God’s power to redeem those broken situations. Both women found themselves in very desperate situations. The widow of Zarephath, from 1 Kings, is living in a time of extreme drought and famine. There is little food for anyone, and so the charity that a widow would depend on has dried up as well. And in that culture, a widow was in very dire straits, as without a husband or son, she would be unable to negotiate deals, earn a living, or have many civil rights. And so when her only son dies, she is losing much more than her beloved child, which would be a painful enough loss, but she is losing her lifeline to many social structures.

            And the widow of Nain, in Luke, is likewise in a tough situation being a widow losing her only son. She too was not only mourning the loss of her only son, but had lost her male protector and provider. And though it sounds rather sexist and misogynistic to our modern ears, it is the simple fact of that culture- without a man to provide for them, these widows were thrown down several steps on the social ladder.

            And so as the text provides these two stories of funeral processions, we can ask ourselves the same questions that they asked. Where is God? Does God even care about me? Is God around? Why am I being made to suffer? Where is God’s justice? No matter how strong our faith, there are those times when it is only natural to wonder how it is that such a loving and powerful God seems to standby while so much evil and sadness happens. These widows were likely pondering similar questions in their tears.

            Often we think of Elijah and Jesus as very holy men, mouthpieces for God, or in the case of Jesus, God incarnate. But Elijah and Jesus must have decided to skip class the day that pastoral care came up, as they both would receive an “F” for their intrusions in the lives of these widows. First, Elijah comes to a widow in a land of famine and asks for food. Rather rude isn’t it? Imagine going up to the homeless person and asking them for dinner. But he does it anyway. She protests that only has a few morsels left for her and her son, and if they don’t have that, they will die of starvation. But Elijah insists, just do the best you can.

            I wonder what was going through this widow’s mind. She probably wanted to throw him out for being such a demanding guest, not to mention for being the prophet of the God who was causing the famine. But she responded instead with hospitality and trust. We are reminded of the disciple on the shores of the Sea of Galilee that asked, “how will feed all of these people with only five loaves and two fish?” And we recall that in our generosity, in our ability to loosen our grip on our possessions and fears of scarcity, that God’s abundance is made more visible. In her generosity, she opens herself to the miracle of there being food enough. So let us remember, there is always enough to be generous.

            Jesus, likewise, intrudes rather poorly into the funeral procession. Imagine the scene. A solemn procession heading towards the cemetery, people crying, and a complete stranger approaches the mother of the dead son and says “stop crying.” That’s certainly not what they teach in seminary. And this woman, instead of slapping Jesus, or asking a relative to remove this rude intruder, watches as he approaches the bier and touches the casket. Perhaps she wanted a reason to stop crying and wanted to see what this holy man might do.

            Isn’t that the way that God often enters the picture? How often does God come to ask us to take on one more task, to write one more check, to shed one more tear when we’ve already done all we thought possible. God’s intrusions into our lives are not always welcome, sometimes they seem rather crazy. Now to be sure, the widow doesn’t know what Jesus will do. She doesn’t know that her son will be brought back to life, at this point in the gospel, Jesus hasn’t done anything on that level yet. But like the widow at Zarephath, the widow at Nain was open to receiving what God was offering. I’ve shared it before, and I’ll share it again, as St. Augustine said- “without God, we cannot; without us, God will not.” We can either be open to what God might be doing in our world and lives, or we can stay closed off from these holy intrusions.

            And in being open, both of these widows find hope. Elijah asks God to send life back into the son, and Jesus tells the dead son to “rise.” And in both instances, the miracle of God’s redemption is seen. In Luke, the author is trying to portray Jesus as the new Elijah, so this link shouldn’t be overlooked. In the Greek text of both readings, the exact same phrase is found, “he gave her back to his mother.” In both instances, the hopeless widow is recast as the joyful mother.

            What is fascinating is that these stories differ from other miracle stories in the gospels. These healings are not based on the faith of the people involved. The widow at Zarephath isn’t even Jewish, she doesn’t follow the God for whom Elijah is a prophet. She certainly didn’t expect the God of Israel to do anything for her. She lived in the land of the Baals, another deity in the region. And the widow at Nain didn’t ask Jesus for a miracle as the Roman centurion did in the reading last week. She wasn’t seeking Jesus out, she wasn’t expecting a miracle from Jesus, she wasn’t even expecting a card in the mail from him. These stories demonstrate, not the faithfulness of the widows, but the faithfulness of God.

            These two women were open to God, they responded to the intrusions not with anger or hostility, but with hospitality and grace. And they became witnesses to God’s faithfulness. We often focus on our own faith. How we pray, how we give, how we share, how we read the Bible. And those are important things. But how often do we consider God’s faithfulness?

            When we find ourselves in tough situations, it’s very easy to go inward and look for solutions to our problems. We live in a culture that makes pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps a virtue. Our political commentary casts people in poverty as moochers that take government handouts, because somehow they can’t overcome the systems of oppression designed to keep the rich rich and the poor poor. When our President reminds us that we didn’t build the schools and the roads that lead to our individual success, we call him a socialist instead of acknowledging the truth that “no person is an island.” Our culture today would likely condemn both of these widows with terms such as “illegal,” “dependent on government welfare,” or “hopeless.” We take pride in our own success instead of God’s faithfulness.

            David Brooks recently wrote a great op-ed piece in the New York Times about individualism and amorality. He notes that Google has recently made available a database of words used in books published between 1500 and 2008. It’s just a list of how many times a word is used. And he notes that in the last 48 years, words such as “personalized,” “self,” “unique,” and “I can do it myself,” have risen is usage, while words such as “community,” “share,” “united,” and “common good,” have decreased. Over the same time period, words of humility have dropped by 52%, words of compassion have dropped 56%, words of virtue such as “bravery” or “fortitude” dropped by 74%, and words of gratitude and appreciation have dropped by 49%. And he concludes that these gradual shifts in language reflect tectonic shifts in culture. We write less about communal bonds, obligations, and reliance on others because they’re less central to our lives.

            What Brooks is saying is similar to what these widows are witnessing the faithfulness of God. These women receive grace, not through belief, not through their faith, not because they deserved it, or earned it, or even asked for it, but instead because they were open enough to receive God’s faithfulness.

            Consider today’s Psalm- Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning / You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.

            As these widows and the Psalmist show us, though we will experience pain, God’s faithfulness will also show us joy. But how you might ask?  I’ve never had any of my dead loved ones come back to life. It was rather easy for these widows to rejoice, their dead sons came back to life. But as far as miracles go, resuscitating a dead person back to life is just a cheap parlor trick. Now I’m sure many of us would like this to happen in our lives, but if we’re talking about the Creator of the universe, it’s not really all that spectacular.

            But what is worthy of our wonder and awe is God’s ability to raise those who merely live and breathe to living a true life. Simon Weil wrote “the extreme greatness of Christianity lies in the fact that it does not seek a supernatural cure for suffering, but a supernatural use of it.” What is amazing about these stories is not so much that these dead sons came back to life, but it is the transformation of their situation. Those sons both died again at some point, it wasn’t a lasting miracle. What was so powerful about these acts is the way these events changed the people that witnessed the miracles, the way it changed tears of sadness into tears of joy, the way it reminds us that God’s grace comes not because we deserve it, but because God is faithful.

            Theologian Karl Barth said “where [humans] fail, God’s faithfulness triumphs.” We need not obsess over all of our problems, we don’t need to see failing as the worst possible outcome. Because it is in our failings, in our deepest needs that God’s faithfulness will be there. Some pains, such as the loss of a child, will never go away; some scars will never fully heal, but just as those wounds remain, God’s faithfulness remains with us. Grace and healing come not through our individual accomplishments, but through God’s faithfulness.

            And isn’t this what Baptism is about? God being faithful to us, who can’t earn God’s grace. It’s why babies are the perfect sort of people to baptize, people that are completely dependent on others, who receive God’s grace instead of earning it through a confession or class. And we’re setting them on the path to live a life full of moments of God’s faithfulness. And we thank Mike Taylor for his witness to God’s faithfulness through his humility, his care, and his dedication to St. Francis.

            These widows remind us that sometimes when God enters the picture, it can be a rather rude and unwelcome intrusion. But if we can respond with hospitality and openness, we can be witnesses to God’s faithfulness, which will be the true miracle- the miracle of living a life that truly matters, the miracle of a legacy that will endure long after we are gone, the miracle of having God transform our sackcloth into joy. As the refrain of the great hymn proclaims- Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness / Morning by morning new mercies I see / All I have need of thy hand hath provided / Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

Letter to Our Senators

After being urged by Bishop Curry to become more informed about Immigration Reform legislation and write our Senators, I have done so and urge you all to do the same. You can watch Bishop Curry's message here. After doing so, you can then write Senator Hagan and Senator Burr. I will also share the letter that I sent to them both, which briefly outlines why I believe that this legislation is good for our nation, good for Christians who seek justice and compassion, and good for the furthering of God's Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. If any or all of my letter would be helpful to you in writing our Senators, please feel free to copy it.

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Senator,

I write to you, as a constituent of North Carolina and a person of faith who very much believes in the idea of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all. I ask you to vote in favor of the Comprehensive Immigration Reform bill, commonly known as the “Gang of 8 Bill,” that will be coming before the Senate in the coming weeks.

Our current immigration policies are not good or just, and they are outdated. It is clear that some sort of reform needs to happen.

What motivates me to write you is the fact that roughly 83% of undocumented immigrants are Christians; they are my brothers and sisters in Christ, and so this is a family matter to those of us in the Church. I am reminded of the plethora of witnesses from the Bible that suggest mercy and justice be shown towards the immigrant.

We would do well to remember that we are all immigrants who have come here from somewhere else (Exodus 22:21- You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.). And both Hebrews 13:2 (Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it) and Matthew 35:40 (Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me) remind us that as we treat our neighbors, so we treat God. And because the Lord is our God, we are to act so that “when an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 19:35-35).

A pathway to citizenship is a pathway to hope. We are all citizens of God’s Kingdom, and we pray, and are called, to work to make God’s Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. This legislation at least moves us in that direction. No one bill will solve the problem forever or be perfect. But this bill is a start. Please, don’t let perfection be the enemy of the good.

As the prophet Micah wrote, our task is to “do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.”This is about justice that will roll down like waters (Amos 5:24), not Republican, Democrat, or Independent agendas. I hope that when the time comes for a vote, you vote with the people whom you were elected to represent in mind; and more importantly, I hope your vote is a vote for justice and compassion towards the “least of these.”

Thank you for your service as a representative of the people.

Blessings,

The Rev. Robert Black

May 26, 2012 - Trinity Sunday

In the name of the One God who creates, redeems, and sustains us- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

             Today is Trinity Sunday, and in pulpits around the country this morning, many preachers will ignore this fact because they assume that the Trinity is too obtuse to understand or preach on, or they’ll assume that their congregants have no interest in the Trinity. I won’t be making those assumptions today. Yes, the Trinity is rather difficult to wrap our head around, but as Christians, we claim that God is somehow the great Three-in-One; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Not preaching the Trinity on Trinity Sunday is problematic.

            On Christmas, you expect a sermon on the Incarnation of God in Jesus. On Easter, you anticipate hearing a sermon about the Resurrection of Jesus. On Pentecost, you will hear sermons about the Holy Spirit. And I’m not convinced that the doctrines of the Incarnation or Salvation are any easier to understand than that of the Trinity, we’ve just fooled ourselves into thinking that we understand them. As theologian Rudolf Otto reminds us, God is “wholly (w-h-o-l-l-y) other.” Or as our forum speaker said in February, “God is really, really big; and we are very, very small.” We’re not supposed to understand the Trinity.

            And let us remember that doctrines are expressions of faith, not the basis for faith. Doctrines are not intended to be litmus tests to gauge how sincere or deep our faith is. The Trinity is not a reason to believe in God, but rather it is an expression of our belief in God. And we would do well not to get distracted by the details of the Trinity. Though it may be interesting to read and debate about modalism, subordinationism, Arianism, or tritheism, such discussions are mere distractions from the big picture to which the Trinity calls us. The aspect of the Trinity on which I’d like to focus this morning is relationship.

            Say what you want about how it is that we have a trinity of persons in a unity of being, but at the most basic level, the Trinity demonstrates that God is a god of relationship. Being in union with others is absolutely central to the very nature and being of God. And this morning I want to suggest that this emphasis on relationship is the bedrock on which our hope rests.

            We’re not really good at relationships though. Our national divorce rate hovers near 50%, and there’s no telling how high the infidelity rate might be. We are litigious society in which we constantly sue each other because our coffee is too hot, or we don’t like the decision you made. There are roughly an estimated 34,000 Christian denominations in the world, most of them coming around as the result of disagreements. We solve our problems through guns and attorneys, signs that we’re really not good at being in relationship. In his classic work I and Thou, Martin Buber wrote about this issue.

            He notes that in our world, we default to “I-It” relationships; treating others as an “it” instead of a “thou” or “you.” In “I-It” relationships, we have experiences, collect data, and develop theories. But there is no connection, as we treat each others in a very utilitarian way. What will you do for me? What can I get out of our relationship? How can you be a tool to advance my cause? We can see this happening everywhere we look, from our families, all the way up to our Congress. The saying is that we are supposed to use things and love people, but instead we love things and use people. You can even see it in our language, the way that we frame so many of our issues as “us vs them.” What I always wonder is, who are “they.” So one party blames all of our woes on the other.

Even in our debates around government, you hear people talk about being afraid of “big government.” But what we seem to have forgotten is that the government doesn’t exist, but people do. You want to talk about slashing the cost of government overhead or food stamps programs, and you’re not talking about lines in a budget, you’re talking about the jobs of countless Americans and the meals that will go missing from their tables. It’s a problem of “I-It” relationships. And so we use language that allows us to hide their humanity and forget that they are “yous” and not “its.” We have gotten so far off track, that our Supreme Court has gotten so confused that they have declared that corporations are people. We have taken “its” and made them “yous.”

What Buber suggests stands in opposition to these deficient relationships are those interactions which he calls “I-Thou.” This is about encounter, about meeting the whole essence of the other, about being transformed by relationship. The basis for these relationships is in the relationship of God to us. And though they are rarer, these sorts of relationships do still happen, but they take work. They take having more vulnerability and less judgment. Instead of quickly putting people into boxes such as “stupid,” “homeless,” “illegal,” “gay”, “straight,” “single,” “married,” “Muslim,” “lazy,” that we instead get to know their name and story. This takes time, something which our face-paced culture places a premium on. But as Buber suggest, it is only through this deep knowing that we can be transformed. And this is something that that Trinity shows us- that being in a relationship of “I-Thou” is foundational to being a person of faith.

These are the sorts of relationship which we were created to have. St. Augustine, in writing on the Trinity, reminds us that we are created in the image of God. And in being created by God, an imprint of God is left on us. He says that “we can find traces of the Trinity all around.” If relationship is central to the Triune God, then it only stands to reason that we, who bear this divine imprint, are also created to be in relationships. And consider the image of Hell which Dante describes in The Divine Comedy; it is a place of isolation from God. Dante’s vision of the worst punishment possible isn’t so much in the flames and tortures of hell, but is in the isolation from relationships that truly matter. Or think about our prison system, solitary confinement is often considered to be a place of extra punishment; because somehow, we innately know that relationship is essential to who we are.

We need each other. Being in relationship also holds us accountable and reminds us of who we are when we are dizzied by the changes and chances of this life.

One of the reasons why we have a reading about Wisdom from Proverbs on Trinity Sunday is that some theologians have suggested that this personified Wisdom is, perhaps, a metaphor for Jesus. And other scholars note that Wisdom is a feminine word, sophia in Greek. And so, much has been said about the idea that God has innately feminine qualities in the Trinity. As I said earlier, that’s a detail to get lost in. But the bigger picture is that at we’re not complete until our relationships involve everyone. We need everyone to be at the table for the meal to work. We need the rich and the poor, the young and the old. We need those in jail and those in nursing homes. We need everyone in order to be complete. Relationship isn’t just about those like us; it is about gathering all who are made in the image of God.

And in having these “I-Thou” relationships, we must open ourselves to truly authentic relationships, of the sort that St. Paul refers to in today’s reading. He wrote that “we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.” Let’s focus on the first part of that sentence- boasting in our sufferings. I also have in mind other places where St. Paul writes about boasting in weakness. And if we’re bad at relationships, we’re even worse at boasting in our sufferings or weaknesses.

We sure do love boasting in what we’re good at though. And there’s nothing wrong with having pride in your work and accomplishments, so long as we keep in mind the Reformation phrase soli deo gloria, “glory to God alone.” And we like having excuses for why we’re not perfect. I sometimes play tennis with a guy who, you’d think, could be the top tennis player in the world if things would just go his way. I’ve never seen him miss a shot without saying something like “that must of have hit a pebble when it bounced,” or “the lights were in my eyes.”

But how often do we boast in our shortcomings? None of us are the complete package; none of us are perfect. But we don’t like to admit that, and we cover our deficiencies instead of owning and boasting in them. And as St. Paul suggests, if we could own our sufferings and weaknesses, then we would gain endurance, and character, and hope. And that hope, comes through the idea of relationship which we find in the Trinity. If we can see our sufferings and weaknesses not as things that disadvantage us, but as opportunities to grow closer to and rely on others, we will also see the hope of what it means to love the way that God does.

I wonder what sort of church and society we’d be if everyone was given the chance to use their gifts? But too often we’re looking for messiah figures that seem too good to be true, and disappoint us when that turns out to be true. So people that aren’t good at management are put into management positions because they have the people skills to climb the corporate ladder. Or we elect people to Congress that are great at giving speeches, but are terrible at compromise. But what if we acknowledge our sufferings and weaknesses and then had the faith to trust in others to help us along?

If we continue to insist that we don’t need help from others, that we can handle it all on our own, we will fall out of relationships with others. What we see in the Trinity is that there is some wisdom in that idiom- “it takes a village.” We are stronger when we are together, when we can be open and honest about what we lack and need, and trusting enough to allow others to make us whole.

And there are instances where we still remember this foundational lesson from the Trinity. This connection between suffering and hope actually is what tomorrow’s secular holiday is all about. Memorial Day is a day in which we recount the stories of brave men and women who have heeded the call to liberate people from dictators and protect the American idea of freedom. And as we go to events which remember them and fly our flags, we are given a sense of hope.

I wish it could be different, that somehow this connection was more evident in our daily lives between owning our sufferings and weaknesses could remind us that deeply need to be in relationship with others, and that those relationships give us a peace which passes all understanding and a hope upon which to build our lives. But like most things that are truly important to us, it is easy to take it for granted. But for the people of Oklahoma, they are recalling this truth today- that homes and cars don’t matter nearly as much as relationships. And their hope isn’t found in knowing that their insurance policy will pay new stuff, but hope comes through the prayers of the nation, the courageous acts of the first responders, and the hoards of volunteers from around the country who will come to their town to help them rebuild. When we have funerals at this parish, there, of course, is suffering. But there is also great hope that comes through relationships- through cards sent, dinners made, and prayers. Whenever we experience a national tragedy, whether it be 9/11, bombs in Boston, or hurricanes in New Orleans or New York, we are reminded of this great truth expressed in the Trinity- our greatest hope comes through relationship with others and with God.

In being in “I-Thou” relationship with others, when we carry each others’ burdens, acknowledging our own suffering and weakness, we are doing the work of the Trinity. We are coming together as the image of God would have us do. We are being true to our created nature. And so it should come as no surprise that we find great comfort and hope when we are able to live in a way that accords with the divine plan of Creation.

The Trinity is a mystery, not to solve, but to thrive in. When we look at the big picture of the Trinity, we recall that God is relationship. Being made in the image of God, we are created to be in relationship. We only punish ourselves and those around us when we focus on “I-It” relationships which objectify others and further pushes us all towards islands of isolation. Instead, if we have more “I-Thou” relationships in which we can acknowledge our failings, weaknesses, and sufferings, we can be made whole through genuine relationships with God and others. We remember this well in our times of great need and tragedy. But for us to more fully live into the Kingdom of God, to be a more robust Church, to have more meaningful relationships in our personal lives, we need only to remember this lesson from the Trinity- that our greatest hope comes through having the deepest relationships. Amen.

April 28, 2013 - Easter 5C

In the name of the Risen Lord. Amen.

            Evangelism. It’s a word that makes us rather uncomfortable, doesn’t it? If I tell you that we’ll be forming a group to foster the work of evangelism at St. Francis and in our community, you’d get more uncomfortable than you do when I preach about money and stewardship. We hear the word evangelism and we think of a theology that is often deficient, harmful, and hypocritical. Evangelism reminds us of shady televangelists, colonialism, and closing the blinds and hiding behind the sofa when you see the young men wearing white shirts and black ties walking down your driveway. I had a conversation a few months ago with someone about evangelism and while they understood the need for it, they suggested that perhaps we find a different word to use, perhaps something less uncomfortable and politically charged.

            But the message this morning is that evangelism is our calling, and it is time for us to reclaim that word and the values that go along with it. Throughout this sermon, we’ll consider how evangelism is misunderstood, and how we might better understand it, and therefore be able to claim our evangelical calling. And unless you’re reading this on my blog, you can’t tell that the word evangelical in this sermon has a lower case “e;” I am not speaking about what the media would consider being an upper-case Evangelical Christian, but rather, our calling to follow Jesus and share the Good News. In fact, that’s all that evangelism means; in Greek, it means “good message.”

            Evangelism is not about conversion, it is not about saving souls, it is not about bringing in more young families to the church, it is not done as a duty, or as a means of obtaining cheap grace in which we are made right with God so that we can then live however we see fit. Instead, evangelism is about hearing the narrative of God, proclaiming your role in God’s ever unfolding drama, and listening to the story of others.

            Our scriptural lens this morning is the reading from Acts. This is one of most compelling and powerful stories in all of Bible. Peter is in Joppa, near modern day Tel Aviv, and is being criticized for his ministry and eating with non-Jewish members of the Way, people whom we would call Christians. His critics saw Jesus as the Jewish Messiah, of the Jews, for the Jews, and by the Jews. They were suspicious of outsiders joining the Way. And so Peter begins to pray and has a vision of a sheet coming down from heaven, and on that sheet where non-kosher animals and he was told to “kill and eat.” Immediately, he says “no!” Perhaps he thought this was a test. Peter was a good Jew, and keeping dietary laws was important to him. This was non-negotiable for him. In Bible, things happen three times to Peter, so it happens two more times. And then he gets it and he relays the message “what God has made clean, you must not call profane.” They all understand that the Way was open to everyone, as the Holy Spirit descends upon and fills us all.

            This was an extremely radical move for the early followers of Jesus. They went from being a small group of followers, to a worldwide movement without borders. No voter identification cards required; all are welcome to participate in following Jesus. They thought they understood their mission, they thought the story of God was the story of Israel, but they now saw that the story of God was about all of Creation.

            And in this movement, the real need for evangelism emerged. The Gospel was now being proclaimed to people who perhaps were unfamiliar with the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. People who had never seen the Temple in Jerusalem were now invited to be baptized into the Body of Christ. And so the story of God needed to be told. And as the Holy Spirit descended upon them, they claimed their rightful role in the story of God as main characters. And the same is true for us. We are all characters in God’s unfolding drama. There are no extras in this drama, we all have important roles, we are all lead characters with speaking lines. We might do some work behind the scenes from time to time, but the spotlight is on us. And right now, our world needs to see more Christians thriving in that spotlight instead of fumbling through their lines so miserably.

            The first thing that we see in Acts is that God’s Spirit blows in new and unexpected ways, and the Spirit moves in a way that touches us all. In Revelation today, the one seated on the throne says “see, I am making all things new.” There is a constant Creation going on. The Spirit continues to move and continues to demolish boundaries that we have set up. The work of evangelism is paying attention to what new things God is doing in our lives, and linking that movement of the Spirit with God’s larger story for all of Creation.

            And the second lesson from Acts is that there is no one who is outside. The Gospel is for the whole world. In our reading from John, Jesus tells the disciples in his farewell dialogue that “just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” He reminds them of the love that he has showed towards them, and tells them that one day soon, he won’t be around to show them that love, so it will be imperative that they keep his love alive amongst each other. And this is part of evangelism as well, loving each other. And if you love someone, you will want to know about their story, and you will share your story with them.

            What all of these lessons this morning point towards is the fact that God is moving in the lives of others. Evangelism is about trusting that truth. God’s Spirit moves in everyone; God is doing a new thing through us all; God loves us all. And much of the fear and trepidation around evangelism is alleviated if we can trust that.

            Evangelism is not about taking God to new frontiers, as God is already there. Doing the work of evangelism isn’t about telling people something that they don’t already know; it is, rather simply, helping people to be aware of those things that they have felt. If we truly believe that each person is created by God, that each person is loved by God, that God longs for all of Creation to be in harmony, that God’s Spirit moves among us all, then evangelism is helping people to recognize and name that. Evangelism though becomes scary when our trust waivers, when we lose sight of the fact that God is already moving in their life, when we forget just how good the Good News is.

            And our world needs more Good News right now. But let me suggest that evangelism is about you and me, and not about the propping up of the institutions of religion. The religious landscape of our culture is changing. And many people are meeting this change with fear and denial. Some people are proclaiming that we’ve simply lost our way and need to get back to affirming things such as the Virgin Birth and bodily Resurrection as simple fixes to declining church attendance. Others will say that we need to transform ourselves to meet the needs of the culture, so more and more coffee shop style churches are popping up. When I was on paternity leave, I visited one of these hip, young churches and let me tell you, it was the most self-serving and shallow attempt at worship that I’ve ever seen. I won’t go into it now, we can talk more about that later if you want to hear more. But there are “experts” everywhere trying to diagnose the problems of the Church and recommend remedies.

            Evangelism, understood properly, though reminds us that we already have everything we need. We have God’s story, as told through Scripture and the lives of faithful people throughout the generation. And if we spend some serious time in prayer and reflection, we can be aware of our own role in God’s story. And if we trust that God isn’t just moving in our lives, but in the lives of our neighbors, and family, and coworkers, then we can share our story with them. And not just share our story, but perhaps more importantly, listen to their story.

            What evangelism so often gets wrong is that people assume that evangelism is about telling their story more than it is about listening to the story of the other person. If evangelism is about God’s story, we should be yearning to learn more about God. Earlier this month, there was a great anniversary that sadly wasn’t as widely celebrated as it should have been. April 16^th was the 50^th anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr. writing The Letter from Birmingham Jail. It is one of the most powerful pieces of Christian witness ever written, and part of what I enjoy so much about that letter is that it gives a very powerful insight into the story of God in the life of Martin Luther King. And if you ask me, it is worthy of being called scripture, right along with St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, Corinthians, or Ephesians.

            Earlier this week, one of our parishioners, Ryan Mails, met with Bishop Curry about his discerning a call to ordained ministry. And as I worked with Ryan on the initial stages of the discernment process, what I loved the most was hearing about how God was moving in his life. And in hearing Ryan’s story, I learned more about my own. When I learned how God moves in Ryan’s life, I couldn’t help but wonder, “what if God moves in my life in the same way and I just wasn’t paying attention to it?”

            There is no one size fits all story out there. CS Lewis, speaking about evangelism, said “it is right to be concerned about the salvation of our loved ones, but we should not demand or expect that their salvation should conform to some readymade pattern of our own.” Remember, God does new things. When we listen in evangelism, we learn not only more about God, but we learn about how God might also be moving in our own lives.

            Evangelism is also about finding ways to take bold steps, knowing that there are no boundaries to God’s Spirit, to show people that they are a part of God’s story. One of our parishioners recently told me a wonderful story about their efforts in evangelism. She was at an urgent-care clinic on Good Friday, and a man came up to the window, upset that they wouldn’t take his out of state insurance. And he’s particularly upset that the billing department was closed that day. Neither he, nor the receptionist, knew what holiday it was that caused the billing department to be closed. And so he sat down. And this parishioner asked him “May I tell you about Good Friday?” And he agreed. So she told him the story of Good Friday. And after she told him about the crucifixion, he shouted “what’s so good about that?” But she continued to tell him the rest of the Easter story and he concluded “well, that is good then, isn’t it.” Now this parishioner is self-admittedly, not the person you’d expect this story to be about, and said that evangelism is far outside her comfort zone. But she said to me “all I can do is listen, share what God can do, and share what God has done in my life.” Amen. I couldn’t say it any better myself.

            Evangelism can be a challenge, especially for those of us who were trained to not discuss religion or politics in public, for those of us who are introverts, or don’t particularly enjoy talking about deeply personal matters with strangers or mere acquaintances. Evangelism though becomes possible and powerful when we trust two things, first that God is already moving in their life; and secondly, that what we have to share is indeed Good News, news so good that it would be selfish to keep it ourselves, news so good that it compels us to share it, news so full of gratitude and wonder that it drive us to be evangelical.

            And I hope that you can see that this isn’t about filling pews. A bishop recently remarked that “when church people start talking about putting people in pews [or bringing in new families] they are speaking the language of decline. If our focus is to receive the life God has given to us, and live that transformed life, then the question of evangelism will take care of itself.” It’s really a question of going to church versus being the church. When you go to church, you come to receive religious goods and services, you come to be fed, you get your needs met through programs, and you expect trained professionals to lead you. But when instead we trust that God is moving in our lives, we can instead focus on being the Church. And when we are the Church, we are people on a mission, we gather to worship, not be fed. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people say “I didn’t get anything out of that service;” my response is “good, you weren’t supposed to get anything about it. Worship is about God, not you.” But if we view church through the lens of a consumer, we expect to get something out of our investment. Instead though, when we are the church, we learn out to feed ourselves through the Word of God, proclaimed during worship, and through the community that gathers.

            Evangelism simply doesn’t work if we’re just trying to get people to come to church. Membership campaigns don’t work, and are quite frankly counter-productive to genuine discipleship. This sort of evangelism forces to focus on having strong Sunday School programs, lovely music, and a pretty campus not for the glory of God, but to make ourselves appear attractive to others. It’s a false evangelism, it tells the story of us instead of the story of God.

            Instead, evangelism is vibrant when we focus on being the Church. When we plant our roots deep within God’s story and then spend enough time in prayer to clearly articulate how we, both as individuals and a community, are living as a part of God’s story, then we are living as the Church. People these days aren’t looking to join something else- we’re already busy with associations such as homeowner’s boards, civic groups, scouts, PTAs at school, we really don’t need add just another membership to lists. But studies and surveys consistently show that we, as a people, are deeply hungry to belong and to have meaning.

            And our belonging is found in the story of God and our meaning is found in being the Body of Christ. You have a story that I want to hear. You have a story of God moving in your life that our world needs to hear. I’ve said enough in this sermon, so I won’t share my story now, but perhaps we can listen to God’s Spirit speaking through us over a cup of coffee sometime. As the refrain from our Psalm this morning say, “praise the Lord.” In the coming weeks and months, I’ll be gathering a group of parishioners to consider evangelism more deeply at St. Francis. We’ll meet to discuss how we might better know God’s story, how we might encourage deep listening with others, and how we might be able to articulate and boldly proclaim our place in God’s story. And it is my desire that this group will facilitate the work of evangelism throughout our parish, and into our lives, our homes, and our city. It is my prayer that in owning our stories as part of God’s, that we might be the Church in a world that deeply needs more sharing of Good News.

            The book of Acts is the story of evangelism. It tells the story of God’s Spirit leading followers of the Way into new truths. And the acts of the faithful aren’t confined to the book of Acts; your action is part of the story. We see that there are no boundaries to God’s grace and love. The work of evangelism is to trust that this same Spirit is working in the lives of everyone whom we encounter, and then sharing with them our Good News and listening to theirs. Might we heed the words of the great hymn – “tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord!”

April 14, 2013 - Easter 3C

Almighty God may you guide us to seek the truth- come whence it may, cost what it will, lead where it might. Amen.

This morning our focus will be on our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, specifically the conversion of Saul, the persecutor of Jesus’ followers, to St. Paul, arguably the greatest of all the messengers of the Gospel. In the chapter just before this one today, Saul oversaw the stoning death of St. Stephen. And as our text today begins, we read that he was “still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.” On his way to Damascus, he encountered the Resurrected Jesus and things were never the same for him, or the world, again. After seeing Jesus, scales covered his eyes until he was baptized a few days later.

And I would suggest Saul was blind before those scales covered his eyes. He was blind to the Truth of the Gospel. He was blind to the grace of God moving around Palestine. He was blind to the new thing that God was doing. He was a devout Jew and zealous defender of the faith. The disciples were seen as enemies of both Rome and the Temple, as they were followers of Jesus, whom had been put to death in order to silence his message. But it seemed that killing him did not work. There were reports that he was risen, and there was new vigor among his followers. Saul was so convinced of what he believed about the world, that he was blind that what was happening before his very eyes. And so this morning, I want to raise the question of our own blindness.

I recently attended a lecture called “Preaching Without Apology.” One thing that was discussed was the need for preachers to get out of the way of the Gospel in sermons and instead let the truth of the text speak for itself. There is no need to explain the Gospel and assume that it is too obtuse to understand. And there is no need to give the Gospel a more pastoral and comfortable tone, as that is a betrayal of the text. As Christians, we really need to have a dialogue about the future of the Church and our own discipleship. And it’s not an easy conversation, nor should it be. To be honest, I have some trepidation about preaching this sermon because I don’t know how it will be heard, but I know that it needs to be heard. I take seriously that opening prayer, asking God to lead us to truth, come whence it may, cost what it will, and lead where it might. The 17^th century preacher, Lancelot Andrewes, once said “I don’t preach what people want to hear, I preach what, on the day of judgment, they will wish they would have heard.”

Look around and you’ll see we have a problem. There are stories in every journal and news outlet about the rising tide of atheism and indifference towards religion. And statistics back up what we all, in our gut, know is happening. Older generations are hanging onto their faith, though often for unknown reasons. And younger generations are staying away. I’m 29 years old, and there are only a few people in this congregation that are within a decade of my age in either direction. Our budget is tight ever year, and more parishioners are buried from this church than are baptized. And we’re in the Bible-belt. In the Pacific Northwest and the Northeast regions of this country, churches are becoming museums.

And it’s a problem for which we have no one to blame but ourselves. Christianity simply isn’t worth living or dying for in most of the instances where we find it. We have so perverted and betrayed the Gospel that we have soured the experience of discipleship. Much of the shallow and apathetic faith we find today is akin to desecrating the graves of the martyrs, who died for the greater Church. I’ll let you decided to what extent this does, or does not, apply to you personally.

Stanley Hauerwas has remarked that atheism is not the greatest enemy of Christianity, rather sentimentality is. Our greatest enemy is within; it is complacent, passive membership as the norm instead of radical discipleship. CS Lewis, writing as a demon in The Screwtape Letters, says “it will be an ill day for us demons if what most humans mean by ‘religion’ ever vanishes from the Earth. The fine flower of unholiness can grow only in the close neighbourhood of the Holy. Nowhere do we tempt so successfully as on the very steps of the altar.” And it happens on both sides.

Evangelical or fundamentalist Christianity is a problem. The belief that the world was created 4,000 years ago in a literal seven days is simply idiotic. And I’m not going to apologize for it any longer. It makes absolutely no theological or rational sense. The Body of Christ is not called to be a homophobic, war-crazed, weapon-toting, people who claim that they are somehow saved while others are destined to hell. It’s simply wrong at best, and the work of the anti-Christ at worst.

But Evangelical Christianity is simply the other side of the same coin of Liberal Christianity, which is just as worthless. Liberal or progressive Christianity has legs comparable to a wet noodle. We have fallen captive to the idols of hospitality, and finding “the” historical Jesus, so that we can tame Jesus to suit our own needs and desires. Liberal Christianity spends too much time apologizing for the Gospel instead of proclaiming it. The Gospel has been diluted and betrayed in the name of not offending people. Jesus did not die on a cross so that we could say “Jesus is Lord, but that’s just my opinion.”

Both liberal and conservative Christianity have forgotten that God created us and not the other way around. On both sides, we claim to know the mind of God, we make judgments in the name of God, and we ostracize those who do not agree with us. The Gospel has been co-opted for the agendas of the right and the left. The Gospel needs no defense, it doesn’t need to be made more palatable, nor does it need to be sharpened. The Gospel needs no explanation, and it doesn’t need to worry about aligning with our political views.   The Gospel is its own interpretation and its own politic. And it loses its edge when we domesticate it to our purposes or interpretations.

The Gospel is a matter of life and death, but do we treat it as such? Bishop Curry recently remarked that it would be better to have an incompetent airline pilot than an incompetent preacher, because the pilot can only take down a plane of a few hundred people; but a preacher can, often unknowingly, chip away at the Kingdom of God for years. The Gospel is about peace, justice, mercy, and Resurrection, and if our world doesn’t have more of that, we will know more death. The Gospel is about the life of the world, and so when we lessen its impact, we indeed are talking about matters of life and death.

Once Saul encounters the risen Jesus, he goes to Damascus and is baptized by Ananias. His baptism completed his transformation from Saul to St. Paul. He went from being a persecutor to one of the persecuted. St. Paul endured much on account of his baptism- in his own words, he writes that “Five times I have received lashes, three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; and many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked.”

But St. Paul would go on to write that “Therefore we have been buried with Jesus by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” His baptism allowed him to endure all that he did, and he did it gladly for the sake of the Gospel.

Consider what the Sacrament of Baptism looks like in most churches. We fill the church with people who have no idea what the discipleship is about because they aren’t living it. And we baptize babies for people whom we know that we’ll never see again. We placate ourselves by saying “well, we’re sowing the seeds of faith.” That’s lazy and irresponsible. Jesus doesn’t tell us to “sow seeds of faith,” he says “make disciples.” And so people stand up front and make empty promises, all while wearing the cutest little outfits that they can find. And then after the service we stand up front and smile for the pictures and then enjoy a nice brunch afterwards.

Baptism is serious business; it is, quite literally, about life and death. Baptism is preparing us to be martyrs, which we are all called to be. Let us remember that Jesus makes it quite clear that “all who wish to follow me should deny themselves and take up their cross.” As Dietrich Bohoeffer put it, “when Christ calls us, he bids us come and die.”

When we baptize a child, the mother and father smile and are filled with joy, which isn’t a bad response to start with, but it should go deeper. Their stomachs should also be churning; they should be scared to death for their child who is taking on the death of Christ in Baptism. They are being prepared to become a martyr for the Kingdom of God. The way a parent sees off their child when they are shipped off to war should evoke a similar feeling to when our children are baptized. Baptism should, quite literally, put the fear of God in us and scare us to death. Our baptismal gowns are meant to be our burial shrouds. St. Paul understood this, as evidenced by his many sufferings. But, just as we’ve made the Gospel a comfortable message that allows us to keep living the life we choose, we have done the same to Baptism.

And for these reasons, Christianity is in decline, because it simply isn’t worth it. On the religious right, a rather weak straw man has been created for the secularists to poke fun at. Look at those idiots, they don’t believe in dinosaurs, or global warming. Or they support war and follow the Prince of Peace. That Gospel doesn’t hold any water. That Gospel isn’t worth dying for. And on the religious left, faith has become trivial. Faith has become what feels right, what feels good. We embrace inclusivity at the cost of losing our identity. And we become hypocrites who say the Creed while crossing our fingers. That sort of faith is lighter than a feather. That Gospel isn’t worth dying for either.

Bonhoeffer writes about cheap grace and costly grace in his work, The Cost of Discipleship. He writes “cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without repentance, baptism without church discipline, communion without confession, grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ.” And he contrasts this to costly grace saying that “it is costly grace because it costs us our lives, but grace because it gives us the only true life.” It makes no sense to pay for the worthlessness of cheap grace which is too often found filling our churches, and it is not surprising that so few are willing to pay the radical and high price of costly grace. But perhaps that is because so few people know the true value of costly grace. Not everyone has had such a tangible experience the power of the risen Lord as St. Paul did.

And if Christianity and discipleship, as it is most often understood and lived out, isn’t worth dying for, then it certainly isn’t worth living for. Martyrdom makes us uncomfortable, doesn’t it? I know it does me. But do we really practice a faith that is worth dying for? For too many Christians, the answer is “no.” And so it is no surprise that Christians don’t actually live their faith either, because why should we bother dedicating our entire life to something for which we are unwilling to die?

And this is where the Resurrection comes in. The Resurrection of Jesus Christ is the central tenet of Christianity, and the most often misunderstood. Jesus did not die and raise from the dead to give us eternal life, but that is how we often understand the Resurrection. And if we stop and think about it, it’s a rather narcissistic and masochistic view. It puts us at the center of the Gospel instead of God. And it assumes that God needed some sort of bloody sacrifice to satisfy the divine cause of justice. If God wanted us to be immortal, God could simply have it be that way. But Resurrection is not about the immortality of our souls. Instead, the Resurrection gives us the power and courage to stare at the face of death, and not blink. The Resurrection allows us to be martyrs without fear. A poet once said, “I will die, but that is all I will do for death.” The Resurrection enables this.

Now remember, the Gospel can stand on its own. We don’t need to explain the Resurrection. What matters is that Christ is risen, period, full stop. And so when we die, either literally or metaphorically, as we seek to build the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven, we can have faith and confidence that death will not be the end of us. Through our Baptism into the life, death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus, we are given boldness and grace to stare into the face of death and laugh, asking “is that all you’ve got?”

And this Gospel, the Gospel of defying death, of seeking to further the reign of God through peace, reconciliation, love, justice, and mercy is worth something. And that, my brothers and sisters, is worth dying for, and it is worth living for. The Gospel of the Resurrection of Jesus is worth our life and our death.

Please don’t misunderstand me to be saying that Christendom would be fixed if we could just be more orthodox in thought, because that is not at all what I’m saying. In her book, Christianity Without Religion, Diana Butler Bass writes of the importance and transformation afforded us through orthopraxy; that is, actually practicing our discipleship. The early disciples indeed knew the Gospel, that was not the issue, but living it was. And many of them understood this Gospel because tradition tells us that all of the twelve were killed for their actions of faith.

Bass suggests that we ask ourselves not “what do we believe,” but “how do we believe?” She reminds us the origins of the English word “believe” are found in the word “belove.” What you love, you believe. Thought and intellectual assent doesn’t matter as much. Again, CS Lewis writing as a demon says “let them do anything but act. No amount of piety in their imaginations or affections will harm us if we can keep it out of their wills.” Faith is a matter of the heart and the will, of the hands and the feet, and less about the brain. What you believe doesn’t matter nearly as much as how you believe. Don’t worry about what you believe about the Resurrection, but focus on how you believe it.

What I am suggesting is more than simply reclaiming the middle ground of the Anglican via media somewhere between the religious left and right. I am not suggesting that if fool ourselves into believing the literal words of the Creed that all will be made right. But we must give up the idol of fully understanding the Gospel. Instead, the Gospel is about beloving that Christ is risen, and our response to that miraculous happening. We must decide if the Gospel and the Resurrection of Jesus is a nice little story, or is it something to live, and die, for.

For Saul, it took a radical conversion. Even Ananias struggled with it, as he couldn’t believe that the evil Saul was the vehicle of God’s grace. To live the Gospel, we must be willing to be surprised by God, just as Paul and Ananias were. As Hauerwas notes, “the Resurrection is the reconfiguration of all we know, have known, and will know.” Paul, who at first was blind to the Truth of the Gospel, became instead blind to the niceties, practicalities, and comforts of the world in favor of focusing on the Gospel. Paul and Ananias were given the grace to see the new thing that God was doing, and we pray that we might have grace to do the same. I know that this is a tough task, but certainly it is one worthy of dying for, and therefore, worth giving our life to.

This is the message of Easter. Easter is not about proving the literal Resurrection of Jesus, or explaining it in such a way that our modern minds can accept it metaphorically. Easter is the event that needs no explanation and no apology. Easter shouts in the face of death that the Lord is risen indeed! This Gospel gives us something to live, and die for, in the pursuit of God’s continually coming Kingdom. Our Baptisms have empowered us for our martyrdom in the following Jesus as disciples, that we might not be blind to the grace of God all around us. Let our battle cry be loud and strong this day, and every day. Alleluia, Christ is risen!

March 28, 2013 - Maundy Thursday

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

            “Do this in remembrance of me.” Jesus himself says very little about what we have come to call Holy Communion, the Divine Liturgy, the Great Thanksgiving, or Holy Eucharist. Simply “do this in remembrance of me.” Maundy Thursday provides no shortage of topics for a preacher. We could turn our focus to the new commandment that Jesus gives, that we “love one another.” Or perhaps an exploration of Jesus as the new Moses, comparing the Passover of Exodus to this Passover meal. Another option would be to dive into the idea of servant leadership, being modeled by Jesus in the act of washing the disciples feet. The themes of betrayal and allegiance as seen in Judas and Peter would also be  a good foundation for a sermon. And while some good intentioned preachers might subject their congregation to a sermon that tries to tied up all of those threads into one, I’d like to instead pay closer attention to the institution of the Last Supper and our own celebration of the Holy Eucharist.

            When I was in Israel last year I learned a lot about some of the ancient traditions of the Church, many of which are still keep alive today. And one gem in particular that I ran across comes from St. Augustine. Tonight when you receive the bread and wine, the body and blood of Christ, we will say “the body of Christ, the bread of heaven; the blood of Christ, the cup of salvation.” But there is a more ancient saying that dates back to the 4^th century, coming from a reflection written by St. Augustine. These words were used as the Eucharist was distributed- “Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold what you are. Become what you receive.” It is such a beautiful and powerful way to view the Eucharist and understand what the “this” to which Jesus was referring when he said “do this in remembrance of me.” “Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold what you are. Become what you receive.” We’ll spend a few moments on each of these phrases.

            Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold isn’t a word that appears in our vernacular. We say things like “see, what I’m saying is…” or “look, the way to go is…” But rarely do we behold anything. Instead, our language forces us to simply glance at things, often gazing past their deeper meaning. But tonight, we are invited to behold the Eucharist. Feel it in your hand, in your mouth, and in your soul. As the Psalmist writes in Psalm 34, “taste…the goodness of the Lord.” Let the taste of the wine linger on your lips, knowing that it is the very grace of God. Truly experience the Eucharist.

            In my work, I notice that the idea of Sacraments tend to give people some trouble. What are we to believe about these acts of faith? Do we have to believe in miracles to believe that Baptism or Eucharist are special? If you look at the Sacraments of the Church, very few of them are taken seriously. Marriage is plagued by infidelity and divorce. Confirmation is often imposed on youth who have no choice in the matter, and whom we rarely see after they are Confirmed. The same is often true of Baptism, which is a grossly misunderstood Sacrament. People are often skeptical and scared of Confession and few know of the power of that Sacrament. Burial and Unction people tend to get, because of their more serious nature. Ordination is only taken on as a choice, so there is often a great deal of solemnity in that Sacrament.

            One of the places that I feel most privileged to serve as a priest is at the Communion rail, distributing the gifts of God to the people of God. And there are many who do take the Sacrament seriously, I can see it on your faces, and it is inspiring. But I’ve also seen many people have conversations with their neighbors while kneeling at the rail. Others smack chewing gum in their mouths. And don’t even get me started on the idea of passing around crackers and grape juice in thimble sized shot glasses. At least in the Episcopal Church we have kept some dignity with the Sacrament.

            Let these words of St. Augustine to truly behold the Eucharist remind us of the importance of the Sacrament of Eucharist. The word “behold” is derived from a word that means “to give regard and obligation to.” In the verses that directly follow our reading from 1 Corinthians, St. Paul writes “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup.” And a few verses later, he says that because some people have not taken the Eucharist with an attitude of beholding that “many of you are weak and ill, and some have died.” Now I’m not going to tell you that if you don’t take Eucharist seriously enough that God will strike you down, but St. Paul seems to be insinuating that it is a matter of life and death. Just as God told Moses to take off his shoes when he approached the burning bush, approaching the Lord’s Table for Holy Eucharist is worthy of our fear, trembling, and beholding.

St. Paul is writing about Holy Eucharist because there are divisions in the church in Corinth. And he urges them to remember what the Eucharist is about- about the Lord’s body being broken and his blood poured out. Let us remember that the bread and wine are a foretaste of the heavenly banquet where we will one day all dine together. Let us behold these elements as the great mystery which embodies the body and blood of Christ, which were given for us.

            And we would do well to pay special attention to that word, “mystery.” If you were to look up “Eucharist” in a theological dictionary, you’d find an abundance of interpretations such as real presence, transubstantiation, transignification, sacramental union, memorialism, and consubstantiation. They are all human’s attempts to explain the mystery of the Holy Eucharist. And while it can be fun and interesting to wade into those theological waters, let us remember that trying to define a mystery will have the same success rate as trying to lasso the wind. The most important meaning that we can take away from the Eucharist is that Christ is with us. Now how that plays out, the scholars can debate.

            Jesus was a Jew and would have been Jewish in his thought processes. In Hebrew, the word “remember” means to not only “recall to mind,” but to “make real again.” So when he says “do this in remembrance of me,” he is saying “each time you do this, it will happening again for the first time, and I will be there again with you.” The metaphysics of the Eucharist don’t matter nearly as much as the fact that Jesus is with us when we celebrate this feast.

            And the last word in that initial phrase that I’d like to point out is “salvation.” Anytime that word comes up, it is helpful to ask “saved from what?” Now I don’t want to get into the weeds of atonement theology, that will be Michael’s task tomorrow when preaching on Good Friday. But I’d suggest that we look at the roots of the word “atonement;” break it down and you have at-one-ment. Atonement is about reconciling and uniting, and that is also what the Eucharist does. It brings heaven to earth in the bread and wine that are for us the body and blood of Christ. The Eucharist makes Christ present in a very tangible and real sense. The Eucharist saves us from being alone.

            So then we might rephrase “behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you” as “take seriously the unexplainable but very real and very saving presence of Christ with you in the Eucharist.”

Next, St. Augustine’s Eucharistic wording invites us to “behold what you are.” Again, everything I said earlier about behold, repeat it. The linkage of the Last Supper to the Passover meal is quite clear in the gospels. And if you boil both of these holy meals down to their most basic parts, they are meals about identity; they are meals about beholding who we are. What does the Eucharist say about who we are?

            The word “holy” is often tacked on in front of words such as “Communion” or “Eucharist.” Holy means “set apart,” as contrasted to what is ordinary and every day. And when we consume that Holy Eucharist, we become set apart as well. We become set apart for the task of following Jesus. When we eat the bread of heaven, we are given the nourishment to transform this world so that heaven might come to earth. When we drink the blood of Christ, we share in his martyrdom. When Jesus comes to us in the Eucharist, we are then made holy so that we might take Jesus with us into all aspects of our lives.

            As I mentioned earlier, St. Paul was writing because the Corinthians were divided. The issue is that they were coming to the Eucharist as individuals and not a community. He writes “For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk…So then, my brothers and sisters, when you come together to eat, wait for one another.” People who had bread for Eucharist weren’t sharing with those who needed bread, and others were guzzling the wine, becoming drunk as they waited for others to join them to celebrate the Eucharist. They were not beholding what they are- the Body of Christ. The Body of Christ receives the body of Christ in the Eucharist. The people of God receive the gifts of God. So when you behold who you are, remember that you are part of a community, and how we treat other members of our Body matters.

            And the last thing to know about who you are is that you are beloved. Tonight in John, we heard Jesus say “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Jesus washes feet out of love, he gives himself up to betrayal and death out of love, on Easter he will rise out of the tomb on account of love. We all have scars and flaws. We’re all self-conscious about something. Whatever doubts you might have about yourself or your worthiness- you are loved, deeply loved. And that is as much a part of the Eucharist as anything else- the beloved of God receiving the love of God.

“Behold what you are,” or in other words, when you receive the Eucharist, value and hold in your heart that you are set apart for God’s service, that you are part of a larger community, and that you are loved.

And lastly, and perhaps most importantly, “become what you receive.” We receive the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation, the body and blood of Christ. What does it mean to become those things? We can dedicate ourselves to following Jesus in his willingness to be betrayed by the world. We can forsake our seeking of worldly comforts and stand in solidarity with the poor and marginalized. We can be willing to be broken just as Jesus was as we follow him in taking up our crosses. We can pour out our blood, sweat, and tears working for the justice and dignity of every part of Creation until justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. We can be the bread which gives nourishment to others, either literally in helping to feed the hungry, or metaphorically in being a shoulder to those who need one to lean on. We can be the wine of rejoicing to those are struggling to find a reason to give thanks or celebrate.

            One misunderstood part of Christian theology is the concept of the Second-Coming. The problem is that it has created as bunch of people who look towards the sky for the Messiah to come again, meanwhile, as St. Paul suggests, our brothers and sisters are going hungry down below. But Jesus clearly says that the Kingdom of God is a present reality. You’re perhaps familiar with the phrase “be the change you want to see in the world;” to become what you receive is an invitation to be the salvation you want to see in the world. If you have a heart for hunger issues, feed the hungry; if you are passionate about animal welfare, volunteer at the animal shelter. Our salvation is that we are reconciled to God, so be vessels of that reconciliation with the world. Wear your discipleship on your sleeve. Let the whole world behold and know that God is doing a grand thing in your life and in our world.

Regardless of how we view what happens during the Eucharist, some sort of transformation happens. That is part of what makes it a Sacramental event, something changes. Some unleavened grain and fermented grape juice, whether literally, symbolically, or metaphorically, become the body and blood of Christ in some fashion. Transformation happens. So if we are to become what we receive, we must be transformed, because in the Eucharist, we received something that has been transformed. Anytime we have an encounter with the Divine, we are transformed.

But for that transformation to truly take root in our lives, we have to plant those seeds of transformation deep within our soul. The Corinthians weren’t doing that, hence St. Paul wrote this letter exhorting them to become what they received- a transformed people who bear the image of Christ. Be changed in receiving the Eucharist. Let the petty things go, change your outlook, act differently, be transformed.

So we might hear “become what you receive” as an exhortation to “be the body and blood of Christ to those who need it, be the salvation that the world needs, be transformed when you receive the transformation of the Eucharist.”

Behold the mystery of your salvation laid before you. Behold what you are. Become what you receive. They are good words for us to consider on this night when we remember the Last Supper and the first Holy Eucharist. I hope and pray that this has been a truly holy week for you thus far. As we enter the most sacred three-day period in our Christian life and faith, may it be beholding the mystery of our salvation, knowing that God is with us. May it be beholding what we are, the sacred and beloved community of God. And may we become what we receive in the Holy Eucharist, the salvific transformation of this world. Amen.