May 24: Opening the doors of our hearts

Pentecost, Year B                                                             

Acts 2:1-21                                                                            

            A couple of years ago I visited my cousin in France.  My cousin lives in France because she married a French man who she met at mime school.  It was fortunate that they met at mime school because she did not speak much French and he spoke even less English.  Despite the language barrier, they fell in love and got married. My cousin’s husband continues to act, mostly improv.  He was performing one of the nights when I was visiting and we went to see the show.  It was all in French. I studied French in high school and college, but most of it has faded from my memory.  However, I thought that since most of the humor was very physical (almost slap stick) I would be entertained.  It was a difficult two hours because as I spent most of the time trying desperately to find words that I could understand and fake laughing when everyone else was laughing.  I did not want to seem rude.  I didn’t want people to know how completely clueless I was.

            Last week we celebrated the Ascension when Jesus rose into the clouds leaving the disciples to stare after him in wonder.  After a short conversation with a few angels, they were reminded that they had work to do here on earth.  The first thing they did was go to the temple to pray together.  It’s very possible that they were still gathered in prayer, praying for direction and understanding when we hear of them in today’s Acts reading.

            Their prayers for direction and understanding were answered as a wind rushed into the house and tongues of fire alighted on each of their heads.  They were filled with the Holy Spirit and were suddenly able to speak in different languages.  Eventually, a large crowd gathered around them, people from every nation.  These people all spoke different languages, but somehow they could understand the disciples because the disciples were speaking their language. 

            Our English text says that the people were amazed, astonished and perplexed.  But the English does not capture the emotion as fully as the Greek.  What these Greek words really mean is: in an uproar, beside themselves, blown away.  Just imagine that we are all sitting here in church waiting for the service to begin and instead of the processional hymn, the doors burst open and a powerful wind rushes in.  Books are blown out of the pews…books and hymnals everywhere! The altar hangings would be flying around and all of the candles would be blown out.  The altar guild would be in a frenzy.   Then you would feel a heat and you might think, hey that feels funny and you notice that there are flames coming down from the ceiling resting on people’s heads.  And you worry because there is a lot of wood in this church.   It would be chaos.  Someone would grab a fire extinguisher; the sprinkler system would go off.  Most of us would want to run out, but for some reason, we don’t.  For some reason we stick around because out of the chaos comes a voice that we understand, a voice we have been longing to hear. 

            All of us gathered here today speak English and we are accustomed to hearing English spoken. We expect that we will understand the words that are spoken in our service. So it might be hard to grasp the radical nature of this moment where people from all different places heard the words and understood.  Perhaps we can think of it another way.  Consider for a moment that you are in one of the following frames of mind.  It’s been a hard week and you really didn’t feel like coming to church today.  (I am sure this has never happened to any of you, but just try to imagine.) Maybe you don’t want to be here because you are simply too tired and you would rather have slept in and had a big breakfast.  Or maybe you come every week but really don’t get much out of it and you come because you are expected to be here.  Maybe this is your first visit and you have no idea what to expect or when to kneel and stand.   

Put yourself in one of these scenarios, and then imagine that you hear from somewhere (in the music, the readings, the kind greeting from a stranger, the sermon)…you hear exactly what you need to hear.  You hear that thing that puts it all in perspective.  You hear what you have been dying to hear.  For that moment everything else falls away and you get it, you know what it is to belong, your faith is crystal clear, you know what you want to be when you grow up, or you finally let go of the hurt that has been wearing you down for these many years.

            That is Pentecost.  That is the Holy Spirit.  It’s when God connects to you in a way that you can understand and experience God.  You can feel it in your body and in your soul. You might not be able to explain it, but it finally connects.  God is speaking your language. 

            When I was watching the French improv group, there was one point in one of the sketches where they spoke English.  And I got it.  It was funny. When I laughed, it was a real laugh.  It only lasted a minute or so, but I held on to that moment because it was real for me.  Afterwards, I got to speak to the actors.  They all spoke a lot more English than I spoke French.  One of them said, “You should have said something, we could have done more bits in English.”  I was so impressed that they knew enough English to do that, but also that they were willing to perform in another language so that one person in the crowd could understand. 

            Humans have a need to understand and be understood.  It is one of the reasons that we spend time with groups of people who are similar to us.  We assume that they will understand us and we will understand them.  But that also means that we have a tendency to stop trying to get to know people who are not like us.  We even can stop trying with God.  God wants to be in relationship with us.  God knows us and he wants us to know him.  Sometimes we just need to be to be honest with God and about God. We can tell God, I don’t know what you are trying to tell me.  Help me understand.  We can do that in church as well.  If church means nothing to you, then maybe you can help us convey God’s message in a way that helps you find that moment of understanding and connection. 

            God might not have sent us wind and fire for today’s service.  That does not mean that God isn’t still speaking to us, still trying to speak the language of our hearts.  God didn’t stop speaking to humans when the Bible was put together. God did not stop speaking when the Book of Common Prayer was revised in 1979.  God is still speaking.  Now we need to do our part to keep those lines of communication open.  We need to admit it when we can’t find meaning, even if are afraid that people will think we are clueless.  We lose so much insight in church because people are afraid of admitting what they do not understand, or possibly understand more than we do. If I had yelled out in that French theatre: “Hey, there is a clueless American here with rudimentary French and I want to get in on the joke.” They would have spoken my language because they wanted to connect with their audience.  God wants the same of all of us.  God wants us to get it.  And that might mean us admitting that sometimes we don’t get it and we don’t need to feel bad about that.  We can’t always wait for real wind to blow open the doors of our hearts.  Sometimes, we need to open the doors ourselves and invite the Spirit in.  The Spirit is still speaking.    

May 17, 2015: Rainbow connection

Year B, Ascension Day                         Acts 1:1-11                                                                

            “Why are there so many songs about rainbows/ And what’s on the other side?”  You may recognize these words by one of our great modern philosophers---Kermit the Frog.  I could not help but think about this song as I was preparing this sermon.  It’s something about the question that the angels ask of the disciples after Jesus has ascended: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

            Is it just me or are the disciples doing the most logical and natural thing? Jesus, who was miraculously resurrected after a gruesome death is now floating up into the sky?  Who wouldn’t stare for a little while?  While the resurrection was a wonderful and exciting event, nobody got to see it.  If I was one of the apostles, I would be a little bummed that I had not witnessed Jesus roll the stone away in that triumphant moment.  After all they had been through, I think they deserved that.  At this big moment of Christian history, they get front row seats.  Any person in their right mind would keep watching…perhaps waiting for something like fireworks, or maybe even a rainbow, a renewal of the covenant that God had given his people after the great flood.  In Genesis, God had provided a bow in the clouds to remind everyone that he would never again destroy the earth with a flood…a promise of God’s love for us.  That would have been a nice touch after the Ascension of Jesus as well.

           Instead they get two angels nagging them about what they shouldn’t be doing in this magical moment.  I’m not clear on their logic.  The angels said that they should not be looking up into heaven because Jesus would come back the same way he went up.  Isn’t that a good reason to keep looking up?  If you knew exactly where to look for Jesus second coming, it seems to me that you would have a hard time looking away. However, let’s not forget what Jesus told them earlier.  The apostles had asked him, “‘Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel? He replied, ‘It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.’” In other words, not only am I not telling you, but it’s probably not happening today.

           The disciples must have remembered these words, because as soon as the angels shook them out of their state of awe and reverie, they returned to Jerusalem and began the ministry that they were called to do.  Perhaps that is what the angels were reminding them.  Sure they could continue to stare at the sky looking for a glimpse of heaven, but they had work to do on earth. They had people who needed them.

           Christians are often criticized for ignoring the problems of today and instead trying to prepare people for the afterlife when all will be perfect.  Most Episcopalians I know don’t spend a lot of time trying to save people so as to ensure their place in heaven, but it is easy to get preoccupied with things going on in our church or our families.  Part of the reason we ge preoccupied with our immediate surroundings is because it is overwhelming to think too much about what is going on around us.  In this age of social media, we are saturated--not just with pictures and text, but video coverage of every troubling thing that is happening in our world.  We see the dead bodies of people lying in rubble in Nepal…we see it in real time.  We see young African American men killed in our cities.  We see police officers killed. We see images of caskets covered with the American flag emerging from planes, where there should be men and women in uniform disembarking to meet family.  We see people who would rather blow themselves up then work for change. So yes, I would much rather stare at the sky then look at almost any form of media.

        As Christians, we know that our world is broken and we know that there is a better world beyond our knowledge, a world where there is no violence and there is only love.   Our awareness of these dual realities means that we are constantly trying to find the balance between them.  We are children of the resurrection in that we live in constant hope of that time when Jesus will come again and make all things right.  However, we are also called by Jesus to live out the Great Commission (to make disciples of all nations), to love our neighbors as ourselves, to make this world better.

 I believe that we can find a balance.  We can live in both worlds.  We might not be able to do it all of the time, but sometimes we can experience heaven on earth.  We can see glimpses of it, in our worship, in our music, in those moments when we truly connect with one another, in those times when we reach out to people who are not part of our church, and in those times when we let others reach out to us.  Those are moments that we can cling to, that we can remember.  We shouldn’t have to choose between one or the other.  We can have both.  And when we get overwhelmed by misery and despair, then we take time to stare into the sky and look for signs of God’s awesomeness as well as looking at one another so we can discover God’s awesomeness in our midst.

         Why are there so many songs about rainbows?  Why is it that even those who claim no faith still search for something bigger and more extraordinary than themselves?  Is it is because we want to believe in God because it makes life easier, gives us reason to hope?  No. When God created each one of us in his image, he gave us something that would always bring up hope, always bring us light, even in the darkest times.  He wove into our being some piece that would never let us stop dreaming, stop searching for awe and inspiration.   That piece is faith.  It can be dormant or it can be alive. When it is alive, it will not only bring us comfort, it will give us strength, to make this world more like the world God envisions for us.

Why are there so many songs about rainbows?  Because we’ve all seen them and they are glorious.  Even though we cannot hold onto them, that doesn’t mean they were never there.  So we sing about them, just like we sing about God.  We can’t hold onto God, much like the disciples could not hold onto Jesus.  They had to stop staring after him because they had work to do.  They had prayers to say.  So do we.

  

 *The Kermit the Frog/rainbow illustration comes from a sermon by Robert Dyskstra in his book, Discovering a Sermon.

May 10, 2015: Holy Interuption

Easter 6, Year B                                                                     
Acts 10:44-48                                                                                    

          It was my first Christmas as a priest and I was pretty stressed out.  It was a liturgically complicated calendar year because Christmas Eve was on a Sunday.  That meant that we had our regular Sunday morning service (which was the 4^th Sunday of Advent), then our Christmas Eve services.  Since I was the assistant I was assigned to preach that Sunday morning and then on Christmas Day, which would be the next morning.  I woke up Sunday morning to find that I could not move my neck as my muscles were in spasm.  I knew there was no way that I could preach. I picked up the phone to call the rector and it rang.  It was my rector’s wife telling me that he had food poisoning and could not come in and might not be able to make it for Christmas Eve services.  I had to be there. Not being one to suffer in silence, I announced pretty early on in the service that I was in significant pain and could make no promises about the service.  Afterwards someone commented that I should be prepared to preach that evening.  I said, well I guess people will get to hear my Christmas Day sermon.  This helpful person responded that I could just wing it, let the Holy Spirit lead me.  I told him that he was crazy and that the Holy Spirit did not work like that.  Of course to be honest, I am not sure how the Holy Spirit works, but there was no way I was preaching an extemporaneous sermon Christmas Eve. 

            The Holy Spirit is one of the great mysteries of our faith.  For such a mystery, we seem to talk about it a lot.  We talk about the Holy Spirit almost like a directional force. I see this especially evident in the larger church.  At councils and conventions we are asked to be open to the movement of the Holy Spirit.  When we tackle a difficult issue we are asked to try to discern how the Spirit might be moving us. 

            The symbols that are most commonly associated with the Holy Spirit are fire, wind, a dove and breath.  I prefer the image of fire because it evokes more of the senses.  You can see it, feel it, smell it and sometimes even hear it.  Wind seems a little more intangible.  You can see the evidence of the wind, but you cannot see the wind itself.  You can feel the wind, but only when it is strong. 

Despite my preference for the symbol of fire, wind is probably the better analogy, at least for us today.  In Biblical times, it seemed as the Holy Spirit moved in more obvious ways.  On Pentecost (which is only 2 weeks away), it came in fire….real fire that bounced off people’s heads.  In our reading from Acts today, the Holy Spirit interrupted Peter.  It was so obvious that he stopped talking and the crowd started speaking in tongues.  Tongues was the language of the Holy Spirit.  It was a way that the Holy Spirit could be heard.

Yet when was the last time you heard anyone stop midsentence and say, “Did you hear that? I think the Holy Spirit is speaking.”  Or when was the last time you saw a whole room respond to the movement of the Spirit and start speaking in a foreign language?  There are probably some churches where you will see and hear this, but it is very doubtful that you will find that in the Episcopal Church.  We have liturgies, books with written prayers that can only be changed a couple times a century, prescribed readings and written sermons. Generally the only time you hear an extemporaneous sermon is because the preacher didn’t have time to prepare. 

At General Convention, which is the democratic governing body of the Episcopal Church, we talk about the Holy Spirit moving in the democratic process of voting and legislating.  While I can see that perspective (especially since this year will be my third time being part of that legislative process), I wonder how the Holy Spirit can possibly move through church canon law and Roberts Rules of Order.  At General Convention if you want to speak, you have to wait for the appointed time, then go to the correct podium, wait your turn and if you ever get to the podium you have three minutes to speak.     

I am not saying we are doing things the wrong way in the Episcopal Church. Clearly I am not advocating chaos.  If we were to let everyone talk as long as they wanted, nothing would ever get done.  Most of you are part of the Episcopal Church because you appreciate the familiarity that comes with things that we do every Sunday.  But perhaps, because we are Episcopalians, we need to try extra hard to provide space for the movement of the Holy Spirit.  In doing so, we have to be prepared to be surprised. (Because as Episcopalians, we can’t just be surprised, we have to prepare to be surprised.)

Today’s reading from Acts brings us in right in the middle of one of Peter’s sermons. Peter liked to preach and I doubt that he liked to be interrupted…even when it was the Holy Spirit who was doing the interrupting.  Not only that, but the Holy Spirit was moving against conventional wisdom, tradition and to some extent scripture.  In the early days of the church, you had to be Jewish in order to become a follower of Jesus Christ.  It was the first step in that conversion experience.  That meant that you had to be circumcised, which was a lot to ask of adult men in a time when there was no anesthesia.  As you can imagine, some people balked at the idea of having to go through that procedure to become Christian. But that was the way it had always had been.  If you think we have long standing traditions as Episcopalians, that is nothing compared to the traditions of the Jewish people.  The disciples of Jesus were all Jewish.  They had all been taught that the Jews were the chosen people of God.  Therefore, to follow Jesus, you first had to be among the chosen. 

However, this Holy Spirit was a renegade.  This Holy Spirit refused to abide by the traditions and the rules.  The Holy Spirit descended on whomever it chose, circumcised or not.   That’s exactly what happened in this story in Acts.  Right in the middle of Peter’s magnificent sermon which started with, “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.”  He was already moving in that direction.  He was telling the crowd that non-Jews were chosen as well.  The Holy Spirit was impatient.  The Holy Spirt wanted to be with these people now, before the legislation passed and everyone was in agreement.  And so that was what the Holy Spirit did.  The Holy Spirit interrupted in a big way.

Now Peter could have said, “Hold on now.  Before we baptize, you all still need to memorize the creed that has not yet been written, learn all the Jewish rules and in a couple of years we will baptize you.  But he didn’t, because he had also been moved by the Spirit.  His heart had been opened.  He responded by asking, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”  So this brand new community of believers affirmed what the Spirit had already done.    That means that they could not take credit for it.   Whatever magnificent thing had happened that day, was not because of a sermon or well-crafted liturgy.  It was because God wanted it to happen.

I am not a spontaneous person.  My reoccurring nightmare is that I get up to the pulpit and have no sermon.  In fact, the first thing I do when I get to my seat during the procession is glance at the pulpit and make sure that my sermon is still there.  So I would not be cool with wind because that would scatter those pages and probably my thoughts.  I truly believe the Holy Spirit moves me when I am writing my text…but it would probably be good for me to be interrupted every now and again.  I believe that all Episcopalian, and all Christians for that matter, should pray for a holy interruption, an interruption that forces us to look at our traditions and our opinions.  We can’t prepare for a surprise or an interruption, but we can prepare our hearts so that they will be open when it happens.  We will be tempted to talk through the interruption, but we can’t.  If Peter had kept talking, the Gospel message might not have spread as it did.  Let’s stop talking over the Holy Spirit.  Instead, let’s pray for a holy interruption. 

May 3, 2015: Being the Other

Year B, Easter 5                                                         
Acts 8: 26-40                                                                         

 

            A couple of years ago I had an opportunity to go to England and talk with some pastors who were there and were doing really interesting and innovative things.  I went on this trip alone.  I was staying with a friend in London, so I knew that in-between my visits, I would have someone familiar to debrief with, but otherwise, I was on my own.  I am an introvert, so being on my own wasn’t so much the problem as was the fact that I was visiting a bunch of different people I had never met.  The extent of my relationship with them was several e-mails and a letter from my Bishop saying that I was a good priest and please be nice to me (those were not the exact words, but you get the idea). I speak the same language and these are all church people.  It can’t be that difficult to connect.  There were a few who were extraordinarily friendly and welcoming.  There were others who were a little wary but slowly warmed up to me, especially when they realized that I was there because I thought they were doing amazing things and that I wanted to learn from them. There was one who was a little more well known and was used to people seeking his wisdom.  He wasn’t so nice.  He was alternative.  He had tattoos and didn’t use capital letters in his e-mails.  He made up his mind in about 30 seconds that I represented the traditional church and he had no need of me.  Given the fact that I was at his house for dinner, it was an extraordinarily painful three hours.  It was still a learning experience for me.  I had grown pretty comfortable in the Episcopal Diocese of Southern Virginia.  I needed to leave my comfort zone. 

In a way, our reading for today is a lot about leaving your comfort zone and experiencing the other. The Book of Acts tells the story of the very beginning of the church…the beginning.  The church had just formed.  The apostles had started to appoint leadership and evangelize.  Almost as soon as this happened, the church was persecuted and Christians were not able to congregate in public.  The beginning of this persecution is marked by Stephen, a deacon of the church, being stoned to death.  After that, the leadership of this brand new church was scattered around the country side.  Phillip had been appointed a deacon at the same time as Stephen.  I imagine that while Phillip grieved his brother in Christ, he was also afraid for his own life.  Thankfully, that did not stop him from continuing to spread the news of Jesus Christ.  The persecution was most severe in Jerusalem.  Because of that, he spread the good news outside of Jerusalem, to people who had not yet heard the news of Jesus Christ, to people who might never have heard the news had the persecution not forced the leadership of the church to disperse. 

            Today we hear the story of Philip and an unnamed man commonly referred to as the Ethiopian Eunuch.  We are told that he was a court official on his way home to Ethiopia.  He had been worshipping in Jerusalem.  He was reading from the prophet Isaiah during his return journey.  This is noteworthy for several reasons.  First of all he was clearly worshipping the one true God.  But he was Ethiopian, which means he was a convert to the Jewish faith. We are also told he was a eunuch.  That seems to be his identity as that word is used 5 times in this story.  A eunuch is a man who has been castrated.  This was most likely so he could serve the queen.  He had an important position serving the queen.  He was in charge of her entire treasury, which would have been significant.  But that did not matter because he was still a eunuch and eunuchs were considered unclean. 

The Hebrew Bible says that eunuchs are not allowed in the assembly of worship.  This means that this man who had travelled all the way from Ethiopia had only been allowed in the outermost section of the temple to worship.  He had not been allowed into the part where the real believers prayed and worshipped.  I doubt this was a surprise to him.  Since he was reading Isaiah, he probably had read the laws that excluded men like him.  But he went anyways and he worshipped regardless of the fact that others considered him unclean, unworthy and an outside.

Most commentaries and sermons will tell you about the otherness of the eunuch.  They will then tell you about the fact that Philip was able to look past the fact that he was a eunuch and that he was from Ethiopia.  None of that mattered in this new faith because Jesus loves everyone.  And therefore, we should love everyone too.  While this is all true, I worry that in reading the text in this way, we perpetuate this idea of the other…meaning that there is us and everyone else out there who we should welcome to be with us and like us. 

When you think about it, wasn’t Philip the other in this situation? He was wandering a desert road in the middle of the day because an angel told him to go to this road.  Then he ran up to a man in a chariot and asked him if he understood what he was reading…a little obnoxious.  It is the Ethiopian who invited him into his chariot.  Only wealthy people rode in chariots. Only a wealthy person in an important position would have had his own scroll and be able to read it.  Philip didn’t have a chariot.  He probably didn’t own a scroll.  Yet despite the obvious difference in their status, the Ethiopian official invited this arrogant and dusty man into his chariot and then offered to listen to him talk about this new faith.  It was this man, not Philip who suggested that he be baptized.  “Look, here is the water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?”  He found the water. He took the initiative.  He knelt in the shallow water and allowed Philip to pour water over him and baptize him.

I am not saying that Philip doesn’t deserve some credit.  He absolutely does.  He listened to the voice of God and wandered onto a desert road in the middle of the day.  He approached a stranger and started talking to this stranger (who looked nothing like him) about Jesus.  He baptized this stranger even though this was not the way baptisms usually happened and there were no apostles to witness it.  What made this such a beautiful moment was they were both open to learning from the other.  It wasn’t Philip converting the unclean and foreign man.  It was an opportunity for two people to witness to one another.

When I went to England, I did not envision myself as the other.  I was the normal priest being open-minded about these other ideas….which I thought was very generous of me.  Yet what I found is that the meeting of the minds that I so desperately hoped for was only possible if both parties were willing to be open.  In order to have a cordial conversation, at least one of us had to be willing to be open to the ministry of the other.  But to have a conversation that was actually transformational, both of us had to recognize that we were not only talking to the other…we were the other.

We talk a lot in the church about inviting others in and being accepting.  And that is important and a really good first step.  Yet what this text teaches us is that it is not about us inviting others into our church.  It’s about going out and meeting people where they are.  Not only that, it’s about recognizing that the other might have something to teach us.  It’s about acknowledging that to many people, we are the other.  If we are able to do that, then not only will be able to go out and be ministered to by others, but we will also be better at the inviting and welcoming part.  We won’t hold people to a standard that we have created.  We won’t build invisible barriers to entry.  As much as we hate to admit it, there are barriers in the church.  Before we can break them down, we need to learn what they are.  The best way to do that is to step out of our comfort zones so that we can also experience barriers.  Then together, we can break them all down.