The Challenge Facing the Church: Feb. 25, 2018

Year B, Lent 2                                                    
Mark 8:31-38                                                

            I hear a lot about the church of the 1950’s and 60’s. The church was full and everyone attended every Sunday.  Church mattered.  Businesses were closed.  Nothing else was happening on Sundays.  You came to church because that was the place to be.  If you were a community leader, a government official, a business owner, anyone in leadership, you went to church. If you did not, you were judged accordingly.  Church attendance hit an unprecedented high in the 1950’s.  Some people have called that period the 3^rd Great Awakening. 

Since then church membership has been on a steady decline.  Steady might not be the right word---it was on a gradual decline and has plummeted in the last 20 years. Sometimes, I wish that I had been born decades earlier and could have served in a church that prospered with little effort.  There was no need for evangelism or marketing.  You opened the door and people came in (of course, I would not have been able to be ordained as they did not start ordaining women until the end of the 1970s—but that’s not the point.)  It seems odd to be nostalgic for a time I did not live in; yet I find myself longing for that experience of the 1950’s church. 

            A lot of people who remember the church of the 1950s and 1960s assume that it was always like that. The reality is that the church and the Christian faith have gone through many periods of growth and decline.  After both the American Revolution and the Civil War, the Episcopal Church was near collapse.  Even St. John’s barely survived those difficult times.   While there have been tumultuous times in the last 300 years, it was probably the first 300 years of the Christian Church that were the most challenging.  Being a Christian was a dangerous thing to be as Christians were openly persecuted. They were tortured or killed for admitting their faith. 

            It should not come as a surprise that the Christian faith struggled to gain a foothold for several centuries. Our God died on a cross.  He was killed by the people who were in power. Who wants to join a faith community that worships the losing side, the guy who was killed?  Today, the cross is not shameful, nor is a crucified Messiah.  Now the cross is a symbol of our faith, a faith that has survived and thrived for over 2000 years.  However, for the first 200 years of the church the cross was not a welcome symbol.  There was shame associated with that kind of death. Jesus was not the only person crucified.  Criminals were crucified by the thousands in that time. 

            If it was difficult to accept a crucified Messiah after his death and resurrection, imagine what it must have been for the disciples to hear Jesus talk about his impending death.  The disciples had come to know Jesus in a specific way.  They had seen all the miracles he performed, the people he had healed, the huge crowds who had followed him. They had seen him preach to masses and beat even the greatest theologians and church leaders in arguments. While not all agreed with him, all recognized his power and authority. 

Shortly before our reading for today, Jesus asked the disciples who people thought he was.  The disciples answered that some thought that he was one of the prophets, or John the Baptizer come back to life, or even Elijah, the great Hebrew prophet who had died and was expected to return right before the arrival of the Messiah.  So far, no one was right. Then he asked who they thought he was.  They knew him best.  If anyone knew, they should know. Peter spoke up and said, “You are the Messiah.” Finally, they were getting it.  These disciples finally saw Jesus for who he truly was. 

            Immediately after this revelation, Jesus started sharing that he would have to undergo great suffering, be rejected, be killed and then rise again.  Perhaps he thought that they were ready to hear this now that they understood who he was.  But how could knowing he was the Messiah possibly prepare them for this?  Messiahs are not rejected by humans and they certainly don’t suffer.  They definitely don’t get killed. It’s madness. Peter rebuked him.  We don’t know exactly what he said when he rebuked him, but it was probably something like, “Don’t talk like that!  Chin up.  You are the Messiah. You are not going to suffer and die.”  Peter probably thought he was being supportive.

            Jesus did not like what Peter had to say because he called him Satan and told him to get behind him. He then said, “For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”  If I had been Peter, this would have confused me a little.  If anyone was focusing on human things, it was Jesus.  Humans are rejected.  Humans suffer.  Humans are killed. Messiahs shouldn’t experience those human things.  It would seem that Jesus had some funny ideas on what it was to be a Messiah.

Then Jesus made it worse because he told the disciples and the assembled crowd that they too would have to suffer if they wanted to be his followers. Not only will Jesus have to carry the cross, but all his followers will have to take up their cross.  I bet Jesus did not gain any followers that day.  The disciples stuck around, partially because they were convinced he wasn’t serious about this whole suffering thing. He had to explain it to them two more times and they acted confused each time, as if this was the first time they were hearing it.

            Who can blame them?  Not only did it not make sense, it was an incredibly difficult teaching. The cross was a form of torture.  None of these men had easy lives. They were Jews living under Roman occupation.  While Jesus was popular with many, the religious authorities did not like him. The disciples knew this and this must have made them a little anxious.  They knew what it was to suffer.  But death on a cross? Where is the victory?  Where is the triumph?

            As people who know what it is to celebrate Easter, we know what the victory is.  We know that Jesus conquered death.  But we also know that most of the disciples were killed eventually, some is rather horrific ways. There are still people being killed today just for being Christians.  And on a much less violent note, we in the Episcopal Church know what it is to be part of a church that is not considered successful, not in human terms. 

            I entered seminary in 2001. In those first 5 years of the millennium, church attendance and membership moved from a gradual decline to a nosedive.  When I decided to pursue ordination in 2004, someone asked me, “Why would you want to be ordained when the church is dying? It’s a sinking ship.”  At the time, I thought that was ridiculous.  The church would turn around.  This was just a blip. But it has not turned around (and I am hoping this great decline has no direct correlation with the fact that I was ordained near the beginning of it!)

Before we all get too depressed, I would like to suggest something. Instead of worrying about the decline and bemoaning the loss of the status of the church, perhaps we can look at it from another perspective. Like the disciples, Jesus asks us not merely to look at the human things, but the divine as well.  It is human to suffer and die.  We can all agree on that. According to Jesus, it is divine to suffer and die.  But it is also divine to rise again. 

It is not easy to be the church in today’s world.  We have to work harder and to some extent we have to suffer a little as well.  However, if we believe this is God’s church, then suffering and death is only part of the story.  The final part is resurrection.  It is new life.  We assume that if the church is suffering it’s because something is wrong.  Perhaps we can see it as part of what it is to be a disciple; and instead of looking at it as suffering, we could look at it as living into a challenge. That is not just true for the church but for every individual life.  Everyone faces challenges in life---some more than others.  We don’t give up when we face challenges, we find ways to rise again.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus told Peter, “Now I say to you that you are Peter (which means 'rock'), and upon this rock I will build my church, and all the powers of hell will not conquer it.”  Despite Peter’s faults, Jesus called him the rock. The church was built on a flawed human and that gives me hope, because Jesus knew he was flawed and he still chose him to be the rock.  Even though the church was built on a flawed human, this church, our church was built by Jesus.  The powers of hell will not conquer it.

Confession of a Hypocrite: Ash Wednesday

Year B, Ash Wednesday     
Matthew 6                                                                                           February 14, 2018

 

            One of the biggest criticisms of Christians is that we are hypocrites.  We say one thing and we do another.  We act one way in church and then an entirely different way when we are out of church.  We claim to love everyone, but we don’t treat everyone the same way.  These are just some of the accusations that I have heard lobbed at Christians as a whole.  I am always tempted to defend Christians or claim that we Episcopalians are different, but I know that won’t help.  That’s what hypocrites do…deny their hypocrisy.

            In the Gospel for today, Jesus tells us how not to be like the hypocrites.  There were three things that Jews were expected to do: give alms to the poor, pray, and fast.  The problem wasn’t that people were not doing those things.  They were, but some were doing them for the wrong reasons.  When they gave alms, they would make sure that everyone knew they were giving money to the poor.  Giving lots of money provided a certain status because not only did it mean that you had a lot of money to give, but that you were exceptionally good and generous.  When people prayed, they would not only do it in a public place, but they would make their prayers as long as possible, so as to appear more pious.  Finally, while the Jews only have one day (the Day of Atonement) where fasting is necessary, many of the Pharisee and scribes fasted on Mondays and Thursdays.  They flaunted their piety by parading around in public looking dismal and hungry.  Sometimes they would even whiten their face to make themselves look more pale and underfed.  They wanted everyone to know that they were the holy ones, they were the ones who were closest to God.  While these actions should have made them closer to God, they were too focused on impressing their peers.

As much as I may want to judge these Pharisees and pretend that I am not at all like them, I am not sure I can.  How many of us wait to make sure the cashier or waiter is looking before putting money in the tip jar? How many of us get annoyed when we do not get a thank you note after giving a gift or making a donation?  I am always mortified when I am in church or some assembly where they are taking an offering and I realize I have no cash to give, nor do I have a checkbook.  I am not mortified because I cannot give to the cause or the charity.  I am mortified because I am worried about what people around me will think.  Sometimes I will even be extra thorough as I search through my purse so the person next to me will understand my predicament.  I understand what it is to want people to know that you are doing good.   

Ash Wednesday is a little confusing.  We read a Gospel reading that specifically says that we should not try to look dismal like the people who disfigure their face when they are fasting. Do you know one of the ways they disfigured their face?  They put ash on their face.  After we proclaim these words of Jesus about not disfiguring our face, we put ash on everyone’s face.  While it’s not a written rule, the unspoken rule is that you leave the ash on your forehead the rest of the day. It’s quite a juxtaposition.            

Before we get too critical of the practice of putting ash on our heads, it’s important to know that there is biblical precedent.  In the Old Testament, when people were repenting before God, one way to prove their humility was to put ash on their face.  Most times this pleased God.  This was seen as an appropriate gesture.

 It also reminds us of our mortality.  After Adam and Eve disobeyed God, God told them their punishment.  He listed many things and ended with, “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread until you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  By putting ash on our face, we are reminded that we were created from the earth, and one day we will return to the earth.  It kind of puts things in perspective.

Yet I think there is something else going on.  It’s about more than repentance or our mortality.  It’s about being honest about who we are.   As Christians, we occasionally are hypocritical.  It’s almost impossible not to be.  We are trying to follow the teachings of Jesus, a man who was perfect.  We know we should be emulating him, but we don’t always act like Jesus.  There is a lot of time we don’t act like Jesus.  We aren’t perfect, but we still call ourselves Christian. 

One of my favorite quotes about church is that “we are not a museum for the saints, we are a hospital for sinners.”  We do not come to church because we are perfect Christians. We come to church because we know that we need help being Christian and that hearing God’s word and participating in the sacraments helps remind us of what it is to be a Christian.  We might mess up as soon as we walk out, but it’s usually unintentional.  By walking out of this church with ash on our foreheads, we are saying, “Yup, sometimes I am a hypocrite---but I am trying really hard not to be.”

The ashes that we put on our face expose the world to who we truly are.  It’s the one time when we can freely admit that we are sinners and are in need of repentance.  Everyone is covered with the same ash.  We all share the same desolation, in that we are all sinners.  If you feel like you always have to pretend that you are happier, smarter, more pious than you are…this is your day to expose the real you.  So maybe this is hypocritical. But you know what, at least we can admit that.  That is what Lent is about—a time to reflect on who we are and find ways to be closer to God.

 

Idea of admitting our own hypocrisy was from a sermon by Dr. Elizabeth Huwiler given on February 9, 2005 at Lutheran  Theological Seminary Chapel.
http://www.ltsp.edu/reflections/2004-2005/050209huwiler.html

 

 

Transfiguration: February 11, 2018

Mark 9:2-9                                                                          
Year B, Last Sunday of Epiphany                                                       

 

            I was listening to the news a couple of days ago and heard someone being interviewed about SpaceX, which is a private aerospace manufacturer founded by Elon Musk.  Just this past week, they launched an incredibly powerful rocket into space, the most powerful rocket in the last several decades. Apparently the ultimate goal of SpaceX is to colonize Mars.  Their next project is a spaceship that would be the size of a 16 story skyscraper, essentially a cruise ship to outer space. It could take about 100 people to Mars. 

Obviously the story caught my attention, but it did not surprise or shock me.  Sure, a cruise ship to Mars, why not?  We have become so technologically advanced, that it almost seems that anything is possible….which is wild because I am old enough to remember when I saw my first cell phone…which was a car phone at the time.  The idea that you could make a phone call from a car blew my mind.  It is amazing that 25 years later, a cruise ship to Mars seems feasible to me. 

            It is a lot harder to impress or shock people nowadays.  We are accustomed to special effects in movies, smart phones that can control the lights in our home, the ability to get anything we want or need by talking to a disembodied voice called Alexa or Siri.  Yet when I was reading about this Gospel text, the Transfiguration, commentators kept stressing how unbelievable and mysterious the event was…how impossible it is to comprehend a man lighting up and voice coming from heaven.  I thought, we are talking about cruise ships to Mars, how is it that clothes whiter than anyone could bleach them would be mind blowing or unimaginable?

            Yet it is, when you think about---well it’s more than just thinking about it, it’s best if you can imagine yourself there as part of that scene.  You have just hiked up a mountain with a man you have come to admire and perhaps even worship.  You have seen him do amazing things, heal people and drive out demons.  However, you have also seen him when he was tired and hungry.  You have seen him sit down and eat a big meal.  You have seen him when he is frustrated and scared.  In some ways, he’s just your average guy. And then suddenly you see him glowing.  It’s not just that his clothes are white, his whole presence has become dazzling.  It is like looking at the sun just a few moments too long or coming out of a dark tunnel and finding yourself in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  He isn’t just bright, he is transformed so radically that it is disorienting. 

If that is not crazy enough, he is talking to two people who have appeared out of nowhere.  Not only do they appear out of nowhere, they are two people who are supposed to be dead.  It is Elijah and Moses, two giants of the Hebrew faith.  Then a cloud sweeps in.  You might think a cloud would not be that impressible, but in the Jewish faith the presence of a cloud, especially on a mountain, symbolized the presence of God. If that was not dramatic enough….all of a sudden, there is a voice that comes from the sky and proclaims, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him.”

Granted, Mars might seem like another world, but it is still part of our galaxy.  Yet this Transfiguration marked a moment when heaven and earth touched, when the living and dead inhabited one space, when Jesus could be both human and divine, and when the voice of God could break through the silence.

There are only two times in the Gospel of Mark when we hear the voice of God that comes directly from heaven.  It’s at Jesus baptism when the sky splits and the Transfiguration.  At Jesus’ baptism the voice said, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.”  God was talking to Jesus as he was beginning his public ministry.  He was affirming him and empowering him. In today’s reading, God is speaking to the disciples, but he is also speaking to us.  Jesus isn’t just another powerful preacher and teacher.  He is not just a miracle worker who healed some people, he is the Son of God, and for that reason alone, we need to listen to him. 

            After the light show, the guest appearance of the two dead prophets, the cloud and the voice….poof…it was gone.  It was only Jesus who was left. The disciples could have walked down that mountain and convinced themselves it was a dream or a trick of the light.  Or, they could let the experience change them and become part of who they were.  Since we know that three of the four Gospels tell the story of the Transfiguration, it is apparent that this was an event that had an incredible impact not only on the disciples who were present, but the early church as well. 

            What makes the Transfiguration more awe inspiring and more spectacular than a cruise ship to Mars is that it has the potential to affect all of us.  It is not just life changing for a few special people who were there 2000 years ago; it changes all who are willing to open themselves to the extraordinary and mesmerizing glory of God.   God’s light did not just stay with Jesus after he was transfigured, nor did it simply disappear into the ether; it was released into the world so that we all can become vessels of that light. 

I know that I have preached a few sermons about the need to be the light and carry the light.  That is important, but before we can be the light, we have to open ourselves to the glory of the light.  We have to behold the light.  It’s not a one and done type of thing.  We celebrate Christmas and Easter every year.  We celebrate the Transfiguration every year.  We do that for several reasons, but one of the reasons is so that we can have many opportunities to remind ourselves of the power and glory of God. As Christians, we have unlimited opportunities to be transformed.

            Some of the opportunities can be found in the sacraments of the church, like baptism and communion.  Other opportunities can be found in less formal areas, like service and outreach.  Night’s Welcome is an incredible example of transformation because we see the building actually transformed into a place where the homeless people sleep and eat.  Yet the deeper transformation is in the people who come here and the people who serve.  Every year I find myself a little bit humbled by the amount of people who come and serve, the amount a few people sacrifice so that many can be served, and especially the people who come and sleep on our floors. 

            The story of the Transfiguration is dramatic and breathtaking, yet it is often the ordinary transformations that we see that can really change us.  I find that the most profound transformations I experience are when I allow myself to see not just the spectacular, but also the tragic and heart breaking.  Because when we allow our hearts to break just a little, we may find that the light of Christ breaks in--- in a magnificent and glorious way.