Joy and a Brood of Vipers: December 12, 2021

Advent 3, Year C                                  Zephaniah 3:14-20                                                     

I have been ordained for 16 years now and  it’s taken me about that long to grow accustomed to the lectionary readings that we read every Advent.  Despite the fact that I had been going to church every Sunday for my entire life, I remember looking at the readings assigned for the Sundays during Advent when I was first ordained and thinking, what in the world is going on here? These don’t make me feel good.  Why is there so much John the Baptist?  We need more feel good stuff, more joy because this is supposed to be a joyful season.  Isn’t that what they say, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”  Finally, on the 3^rd Sunday of Advent we get a little joy in the first few readings.  But we are still stuck with John the Baptist calling us a “brood of vipers.”  So I will start with the other readings for now.

            Zephaniah…now that is an interesting one.  The Book of Zephaniah is only three chapters long.  We know little about the author.  Some believe that Zephaniah was writing and preaching right after the reign of a horrible king, which explains the first two chapters detailing how awful everything is. It might be hard to believe based on our reading for today, but Zephaniah is considered one of the gloomiest parts of the Bible.  In fact, the 2^nd verse of this book is, “I will utterly sweep away everything from the face of the earth, says the Lord.” That is how bad things are.  The prophet concluded that God’s only option for this land and these people was total destruction.  Remember, God promised never to do that after the great flood.  Things were so bad, Zephaniah thought complete destruction was the only option.  Just start over again.          

            The Book of Zephaniah was written after Israel and Judah split.  Israel had been conquered and Judah was on the cusp of being conquered.   Zephaniah seemed to have little hope.  But as is so often the case in the books of the Bible, something shifts dramatically in the middle of chapter three.  After the accusations, the judgment and the warnings, suddenly there is joy.  “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart; O daughter of Jerusalem!”

Christmas 2020--no inside service, but we still decorated.

This reading comes up every three years right at this time, but never has that line struck me so profoundly.  We went months without meeting in person and then several more months without being able to sing.  While we remain masked when we sing, I now realize what a gift we have been given for this Christmas.  We get to sing Christmas carols on Christmas.  Do you remember how much we longed for that last year? Sure, many of us look forward to Christmas carols every year, but it’s so much more meaningful when we know what it’s like to be deprived of them, when we know what it’s like not to be able to sing aloud and rejoice. 

Yet, it remains a little awkward.  We are still wearing masks and trying to be careful.  We are still in the middle of a pandemic that is supposed to be long over. How can we truly sing with joy? How can we shout in exultation when shouting is dangerous?

            That is what is so astonishingly appropriate about this reading from Zephaniah.  This joy that comes in chapter three is that much more incredible because it’s not supposed to be there.  Why? Because nothing seems to have changed.  Judah was conquered. The Hebrew people still struggled mightily.  But God decided to show up anyway.  God’s presence broke through the fear, the sadness and even the hate.  That is true joy---joy that is grounded in God’s presence. 

It’s the same in our reading from Philippians.  Paul was writing from prison.  He knew there was a good chance he would be executed. He had every reason to be sad, angry and anxious.  But he was able to tell the people to rejoice and not to worry.  Why?  Because, “The Lord is near.”  That is what Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians.  That is what Zephaniah also said 100’s of years before, “The Lord is in your midst…”  And while John the Baptist is kind of scary and intimidating, he was saying the same thing in our Gospel today, “God is coming and that is good news.” That doesn’t mean there won’t be hard times. That doesn’t mean we don’t have to prepare, repent, try to be better.  It means that God is coming no matter what.

Joshua has been talking a lot about Santa’s list and I confess we have as well.  But I finally said, “You know Joshua, I don’t know what Santa will do. But I can promise you that we will give you presents no matter what. Because that is what we do as parents. We love our children, no matter what.  That is the kind of love that God has shown us over and over again  over the course of human history. Unrelenting and completely unreasonable---love.

We have no idea if the people of Judah ever repented or changed their ways.  In the end, it wasn’t about them.  It was about God choosing to love them no matter what.  I read a quote in a commentary that I just loved. It said, “…true repentance bows in helpless submission in the face of this great forgiveness.”[1] 

Sometimes we have to know what it is to be forgiven before we can find the strength or courage to ask for that forgiveness, or even know that we need it.  Sometimes we have to experience utter desolation to understand joy. And sometimes, our voices have to be silenced to know what it truly means to sing.

---

[1] Andrew H. Bartelt, “Third Sunday in Advent,” in Concordia Journal 11:6 (Nov 1985), 227.

Forget Normal: November 7, 2021

 Year B, All Saints                                                            Revelation 21:1-6a                                              

            I can’t think of anyone who has ever told me that the Book of Revelation is their favorite book of the Bible.  Anyone?  If it is, that’s ok.  It just makes you unique. Despite the lack of popularity around the Book of Revelation, there are a few passages that bring incredible comfort to those who hear them, including the passage we heard today.  It might be familiar because we often use it at funerals.  In fact, all the readings from today are ones that are recommended for funerals. The part from Revelation that usually appeals to most people is: “God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”  The part that speaks to most of us is the release from pain, the visual of God wiping the tears from the eyes of those who are suffering.  It moves me every time I hear it or read it.

            If you read the rest of the Book of Revelation, you will see why this release from suffering is so important. There was a lot of pain and suffering before we get to chapter 21. There were beasts, lakes of fire, dragons, Satan, huge storms, rivers of blood… plagues.  We think the last year and a half has been bad….imagine 1,000 years of this--plus dragons and rivers of blood.  Then again, it kind of feels like 1,000 years, doesn’t it?  5 million people have died from Coronavirus alone.  That doesn’t even include all the other ways that people have suffered and died.  This might be the perfect time for us to dwell a little on the Book of Revelation.  If we don’t take it too literally (which I don’t think was ever intended) then maybe we can identify with this book, now, more than ever.

            While the visual of God wiping the tears from our eyes and the end of death and mourning is powerful and comforting, there are other parts of this reading that not only comfort, but inspire.  The writer talks about a new heaven and new earth. It begins with, “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth have passed away, and the sea was no more.”  Usually when we talk about the world ending, it’s threatening and scary.  But this part of the Book of Revelation gives hope because it allows for this new heaven and new earth, this opportunity to make all things new. 

It’s strange that the writer specified that the sea is no more.  Why even mention that?  Can’t we assume if the old earth is passing away, the sea is included? In Biblical times, the sea represented division. It was what separated people from one another.  It represented a barrier to human relationships.  For God, it isn’t enough to create an entirely new heaven and earth, God wants to ensure that relationships will be renewed as well. There will be no division between red and blue, Christians and Muslims, conservatives and liberals, vegetarians and bacon lovers.  The barriers will be removed and we will once again live as God intended.

            Much of this might seem irrelevant to us today.  If this is about the end times, why are we talking about it now? The Episcopal Church doesn’t talk about the end times.  But what if this is about more than the end? What if we were able to translate this vision of the future to our present?  For the first few months of the pandemic, we talked about going back to normal.  Then we realized that probably wasn’t going to happen, so we talked about the new normal.  But no one really knows what that means, and let’s face, it doesn’t sound that appealing.  Because when we say “new normal” we just focus on things we need to change, not by choice but by necessity.  We all know that change is hard and disruptive. Why in the world would be want to go through that disruption to achieve normality? Normality was never that good in the first place.          

            When the author of Revelation wrote, “See, I am making all things new.”—it wasn’t a threat.  It was a promise.  Because once you have been through lakes of fire, rivers of blood, dragons, beasts, and plagues, “new” sounds pretty good. Instead of worrying about what will have to change or what we can change back, perhaps we can focus on how to make things news.  If what we read in this text of the Book of Revelation is a vision for this perfect future, there must be a way to bring parts of that perfect future to our present world.  I can think of one way: let’s get rid of the seas that divides us. We have planes now and cell phones.  We can overcome the sear.  The only thing that actually divides us is our pride.  Enough of the divisions.  Enough of the fear mongering. Don’t we have enough anxiety without stoking the flames of unnecessary fear?  Normal. We don’t need to go back to normal. We need to go back to God.  Return to God. Make all things new.

Unanswered Prayers: September 26, 2021

 Year B, Pentecost 18                                                               James 5:13-20                                                                 

     Since we have had 5 weeks in the Book of James, I had hoped to preach my three Sundays on James.  Then I looked at the text for today.  “Are any among you suffering? They should pray…. The prayer of faith will save the sick.”  On the one hand, that probably sounds like a preacher’s dream text.  For some it might be, but not this one.  After I looked at this text the first time I thought, you know the Old Testament reading is a good one, maybe I will go with that.  But then as is so often the case, it’s always the texts that I don’t really like that are the most important to preach.

                What I found particularly irksome about this text is it seems overly simplistic.  And frankly, wrong.  We all know we are supposed to pray.  Hopefully most of us do pray.  But we also have experienced praying for someone who is sick and being disappointed when they did not get well.  They did not heal.  In some cases, they died.   So how can James say that the prayer of faith will save the sick?  Does that mean that anyone who isn’t healed doesn’t have someone truly faithful praying for them? Of course not.  This is one of the hardest things to reconcile as a Christian.   We are told to pray and so we do. Yet occasionally, even when we pray for something good and holy, perhaps even righteous, our prayers go unanswered. 

            Since it’s something I have never been able to reconcile, it seemed like something that I should probably avoid preaching about.  So I looked at that Old Testament text again, because it really is a great text. Moses is complaining to God about this ungrateful group of whiners he is stuck with.  This was not the first time the Hebrew people had complained.  Earlier in the story, they had complained about how hungry they were, so God provided them with manna from heaven.  Now they are sick of manna, they want some meat.  It’s kind of understandable.  I love bread, but not even I could eat just bread for 40 years.  So they are complaining again which leads Moses to complain to God about this ungrateful rabble.

God was not upset that they were asking for meat.  What really ticked him off was that they were reminiscing about Egypt, the place that God had freed them from.   Their deliverance from Egypt was an answered prayer.  They had prayed to God that God might free them from their enslavement in Egypt. God had gone to great trouble to free them from their oppressors.  God brought plagues upon Egypt.  God parted water so they could safely pass.  He sent them a leader in Moses, who they then abused.  And now, they want to go back.  This is the thanks God gets for their answered prayer?

            As confounding as it is to us when God doesn’t answer a prayer in the way that we think is good and appropriate, it must also be confusing to God when we have our prayers answered and then end up complaining about it.  I am sure we can all think of a time when we prayed fervently for something and were granted that, but then later found ourselves complaining about the very thing we desperately wanted.

            I think it all comes down to the way we treat prayer.  Do we perceive prayer as a tool to get what we want out of life?  Or is prayer a gift that God has given us, a gift that allows us to create and sustain a relationship with God and one another.  In the previous chapter, James wrote, “Draw near to God, and God will draw near to you” (4:8).  By speaking to God, we grow closer to God.  Because even when we are complaining to God, at least we are in dialogue with God.  Remember, it wasn’t the complaint about the lack of meat that irritated God, it was the desire to return to Egypt. It was the lack of gratitude for their answered prayer.

            The other thing that James is emphasizing in this text is the need for a community of faith.   James wrote, “Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven.”  James was encouraging people to reach out to those in their faith community to pray for them. 

Remember, a lot of what James has been talking about in this book is the action of Christians—how to live a Christian life. Here he is explaining that one of the actions of a Christian is reaching out and asking for help.  Another is responding to that cry for help.  Prayer isn’t merely about our relationship with God, it’s also how we relate to one another. 

One of the things that we had to stop because of COVID was the healing prayers we offered every Sunday.  It was usually a non ordained person providing prayer in the chapel.  People shared their need and one of our healers prayed over them.  Now, I never asked Jane or Laura or Linda how many people they really healed.  Because I think we all knew, that wasn’t exactly the point.  The point was that people felt the care and compassion of another Christian in the community, in the context of Sunday morning worship.  It was individual prayer enfolded in community of prayer.   I believe that is a perfect illustration for what James is talking about.

Of course the problem with this interpretation is that it still doesn’t explain what the text means when it says, “The prayer of faith will save the sick.” I wish I could tell you.  I really wish I could explain why so many good and worthy prayers go unanswered.  And I also can’t explain why we humans occasionally act like the Israelites complaining about a prayer that God answered that we now wish he hadn’t answered. What I do know is this, giving up on prayer never helped anyone.  I have never spoken to anyone who said, “Yeah, my life really turned around when I stopped praying.”  Because when you stop praying, you give up.  You isolate yourself not just from God, but from your brothers and sisters in Christ. 

Now there might be times, when you simply  don’t have the strength.  That’s ok.  Don’t beat yourself up about not being able to pray at times.  That is where the clergy and the church come in.  Many people stop coming to church when they can’t pray because they think they are being insincere.  But please, please don’t do that.  Keep coming, so the community can hold you up.  Keep coming and if you can, ask for someone else to pray the prayer that is eluding you.  That is what we are here for.  Someone once said that a church isn’t a museum for the saints, it’s a hospital for the sinners.   As beautiful as this church is, I don’t want it to be a museum for super holy people to display their holiness. I hope it can be a place where wounded souls find healing and even the unanswered prayers find some solace.

The America of 9-12: September 12, 2021

 Year B, Pentecost 16                                                                      James 3:1-12                     

                                Recently one of our parishioners posted a meme on facebook that said, “I would never want another 9/11, but I miss the America of 9/12.”  It went on to explain how unified we were the day after our country was attacked.  I remember that as well—going to give blood and being turned away because the line was around the block.  I recall churches full for weekday services that usually averaged 10-12 people.  We weren’t arguing about politics, at least not nearly as much. There were countless stories of heroism and selfless acts.  Now we argue about masks and we can’t even agree on what news station to watch.  At times it feels almost like a different country.

Occasionally I will hear a person lamenting that they have seen someone’s true character after that person has displayed cruelty or weakness, as if all the good they had previously seen was just a façade.   I have fallen into the same trap—choosing to judge someone by their darkest moment, rather than their finest, or even an average moment.  I thought of all this as I looked at that meme.  Which America is real--the America from 9/12 or the America of vitriolic school board meetings and people insulting one another from behind their computers?

            We are reading from the book of James for the third week in a row.  As I told you the first week, James is perceived as one of the more practical books because of the relatable topics he covers.  In today’s reading, it’s about how important the words we use are.  We all know what it is to experience pain because of the words of another.  Often cruelty is not the intention.  It’s just the result of words that were carelessly chosen.   We’ve heard, maybe even said the childhood quip, “Sticks and stone can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”  Yet both children and adults know that could not be farther from the truth.  The spoken and written word can torment someone far after a physical injury has healed.

            Yet while James warns us of the injury our words can cause, he doesn’t give us any advice on what to do about it.  He admits that no person can tame their tongue. We can try, but even at our very best, we fall short.

            What seems to concern James most about words is not the effect that they might have on another person, but what it means about the person who speaks the words.  In the first chapter of James, he warns of being double minded and thus unstable in every way. He returns to that theme in our section for today, “With (the tongue) we bless the Lord and Father and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God.  From the same mouth comes blessing and curse.” James goes on to question whether salt water can produce fresh water or whether a fig tree can produce both figs and olives. No, obviously not.  The implication is that a Christian who praises God cannot be genuine in that praise if that person also curses the person who is created in the image of God.  The question is: which is the true and genuine part of the person?

            Some would say, you can’t be both. You can’t be both snarky and faithful at the same time.  I would disagree. I would say at our best, we worship and serve God as well as loving and serving our neighbor. Yet we also sin and fall short of the glory of God.  However, if we are all created in the image of God, than our true self is always the best of us, not the worst of us.  Therefore, even if we use our mouth to praise God and curse those made in the image of God, our true purpose (our true identity) is praising God.  Yes, we will fall short, we will make mistakes.  And some will veer so far off course that all of their intentions will seem evil.  But no person is beyond God’s saving help.  No person ceases being a child of God. 

            I have noticed that one of the most common things people say of newly born child is that they are “perfect.”  Even newborns who might not be perfect by outside standards, are still perfect in the eyes of their parents.  Now, I don’t know any parents—who while their child is in the midst of a tantrum--- looks at them and says, “Isn’t she perfect.”  Frankly, I don’t think very many people describe others as perfect after infancy.  Because we are not.  Our flaws come out.  We say things we regret.  We do things we regret.  But—we never cease being God’s beloved children. We always have a purpose, not merely as children of God, but as disciples of Jesus.

            Now some of you might be wondering what this has to do with a facebook meme about the America of 9/12.  And for those of you who are new or visiting, this is the first time I have ever highlighted a meme in a sermon.  I believe that our country is still a country of people who care and want to be united.  I believe that we as a nation have made countless mistakes and there continues to be injustice and pain.  But there are even more examples of goodness today.  It’s just harder to see.  So on this day, Sept 12^th, let’s try to find the good in one another as opposed to the flaws. Maybe, more importantly, let’s be the good and compassionate person God has created us to be.  Let’s praise God more than we curse the children of God.  And one day we might find that our default is praise and the other stuff just pops up occasionally. 

Today we had a baptism.  My favorite part of the service is when I put the oil on the baby’s head and say, “Anna you are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.” I want us to burn that into our heart and mind so that when we find ourselves judging another, we can also remember that they too are Christ’s own.  They too were once without sin.  They too (hopefully) had a parent who considered them perfect.  They and we will always have a God who chooses to claim us as his own.

Be a doer: August 29 2021

Year B, Pentecost 14                                     James 1:17-27                                                                                 

            Whenever I am in a new environment and not around church people, I kind of dread the question about my profession. If it’s one on one, it’s ok, but in a group setting, it’s always awkward. Because inevitably, someone will say something like, “I guess I will have to try not to swear.”   Really there is no good way to respond to that. I can’t say, “Go ahead, swear as much as you like.”  But I also don’t want people to change the way they are talking just because I am there. 

Yet what bugs me most about this comment is the assumption that it’s based on—that we in the church are more concerned about how people present themselves, than bigger things, like how we love one another. What I want to say, but rarely do is, “You know, I think God has bigger things on his plate right now.” 

            I have found that non-church people’s first impression of Christians as a group is a bunch of very boring and condescending people telling them what they can’t do.  That might be true in some churches and denominations.  Some churches have a lot of rules that they like to emphasize.  And I am not saying that they aren’t good rules—most of the rules have purpose.  But when we focus on what we can’t or shouldn’t do, we miss the bigger picture.  We would be a lot more effective, if we focused on what we can and should do as Christians.

           James is an interesting book of the Bible, which is good because we will be reading from it for the next 5 weeks.  One of the things that I appreciate about James is that he was trying help people apply their faith to their everyday lives.  James is one of the more practical books of the New Testament. His words were intended for a community of new Christians.  They might not have even been calling themselves Christians at that point. They didn’t yet have a canon of scripture for the Christian faith.  Most of what very early Christians had were oral traditions, stories about Jesus.  If they were converts from the Jewish faith, then they also had the Hebrew scriptures (what we call the Old Testament). 

            Some early Christians felt that the best way to be Christians and to follow Jesus was to separate themselves from the world—not get involved with worldly concerns or even the concerns of their neighbors.  It’s not surprising that people would come to this conclusion when James recommends to people that they be unstained by the world.  But James never intended for people to separate themselves from the concerns of the world.  In fact, he said that the way to be unstained by the world was to care for orphans and widows in their distress.

            The Bible talks a lot about the importance of caring for orphans and widows.  There was a huge emphasis on that group, especially in the Old Testament.  The widows they were talking about were women. In Biblical times the women’s only source of livelihood was through the men who were caring for them.  It was the father and then the husband.  If the husband died, there were even Jewish laws that said that the unmarried brother of the deceased husband had to marry the women to care for her.  However if there was no brother and the woman’s father had died, then the widow would almost surely live in poverty.  There was no social safety net for orphans or widows. 

            Therefore they came to represent the most vulnerable of society. There are certainly vulnerable widows and orphans today, but the best way to interpret James words for our context is to consider not just the widows and orphans, but all those people who are vulnerable and powerless today.  It might be children who have parents or a parent but are still hungry because their parents cannot provide for them, or children or teens who live in neighborhoods that are so violent that they cannot leave their home without fear.  It could be the elderly who live alone and might have money and resources, but struggle with loneliness and depression.  This list could go on forever.  There is no shortage of people in our community who desperately need compassion and action.         

            Action, that is one of the things that James emphasized in his writing and especially the reading today.  “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers of the word…”  That is how we live a pure and undefiled life.  It’s not about simply following rules and maintaining the appearance of a good Christian, it’s how we care for our neighbors.  He writes, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress…”  So often purity is associated with avoiding getting dirty, but for James and Jesus, purity meant associating with the very people who most would consider unworthy of their attention. 

            Please understand I am not saying that we can avoid all rules and moral conduct. Jesus gives quite a list of things to avoid in the Gospel.  But the emphasis of Jesus was always on how we display and embody God’s love, rather than the rules we are to follow. In fact, right after the Gospel reading we heard today, Jesus helped a woman who was considered completely unworthy and unclean.  So you see, Jesus spoke the words and then he showed what those words meant.  That was exactly what James was telling people to do.  Don’t just hear the Gospel or speak the Gospel, live the Gospel.

            All of us here live in the real world.  None of us are cloistered in a monastery. That means, we all have opportunities to help those around us and be doers of the word. Instead of worrying about how we might be negatively affected by whatever is going on in our culture, let us consider how we might be doers of God’s holy and life giving word in our everyday lives.

I want all of you to consider your upcoming week, what you will be doing, who you will be seeing. Then think of one time when you can be a doer, when you can take what you have heard today, and turn it into an action that shows compassion and love.  Because I guarantee you, whatever your job is, whether you are a lawyer or a teacher, whether you are retired and volunteering, even if you are at home and can’t go out---there will be an opportunity to care for someone who desperately needs to experience God’s love. 

Every Sunday, our deacon ends the service with, “Our service is ended, but your service has just begun.” We come to church to be nourished with God’s words. And I hope that God’s presence here brings you peace, but also fortification.  This is not the place where the disciples of Christ do the work of God.  You carry God’s word and work into your lives so that you can be Christ for someone else.  Because there is someone who needs God’s love and you might be the best person to share that love.

Is it really blood? August 15, 2021

Year B, 12 Pentecost                                             John 6:51-58                                                                            

            One of the things I was able to do on my sabbatical was sit in the pew with my 5 year old son.   He had lots of questions.  On the one hand, I welcomed the questions because they were relevant and it was a way for him to engage in the service.  On the other hand, I didn’t want it to be disruptive.  One question that came up fairly often occurred during the Eucharistic Prayer when the priest held up the wine and said, “Drink this all of you, this is my blood of the new Covenant.”

            “That’s Jesus’ blood? Are we drinking Jesus’ blood?”  Now this was not the first time someone has asked me this.  Especially growing up Roman Catholic, I would get that question a fair amount.  But this was the first time I attempted to explain it to a 5 year old.  The typical Episcopal answer would be, “Well it’s a mystery.  We know God is present, but we don’t know how.” I knew this answer would not go over well.  So I just said, “No----but it helps us remember Jesus.”  Now, this was hard for me, because the answer is so much more complex (and would probably be deemed heresy by many, but this was the best I could do for someone who takes everything literally.

            I know that you all have been hearing about the bread of life for several weeks now.  It would be easy to assume that today’s Gospel reading is just a repeat of the past readings. It certainly has elements of previous verses, but it’s different.  In the verses for today Jesus got a lot more literal and the people listening were not pleased about it.

            Talking about “flesh and blood” might seem unusual in today’s context (that is if we were not celebrating communion.)  However, it was probably not that jarring for Jesus’ original audience.  That phrase is a Hebrew idiom that refers to the whole person (hearts, minds, hopes, dreams, everything.)  Therefore it wasn’t that strange for Jesus to be talking about flesh and blood.  But where Jesus got into hot water was when he referred to his blood and his body. Once he had their attention, he got even more specific: “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.”  You know Jesus is serious, when he starts with, “Very truly.” Which makes his reference to his flesh and his blood that much more alarming and gory. 

            Of course many theologians and biblical scholars have used these words from John to debate the theology of the Eucharist, but few people can agree on the meaning. Consequently different denominations define communion in different ways.  Over the centuries, we have let our perspective on the Eucharist tear us apart.  I understand this to an extent, because it’s critical to our faith.  But it’s heart breaking to me that a sacrament that is supposed to bring us together is the one that has also torn us apart. 

            Augustine of Hippo was one of the greatest theologians of all time. He lived in the 5^th century, 1000 years before there was a split between Roman Catholics and Protestants.  That means both Catholics and Protestants get to claim him as their own. I can resolve that argument right now because he was obviously an Episcopalian.  In all seriousness, it’s a sad irony that different sides fight over him to support their denominational views because for Augustine, the most important thing about the Eucharist is the unity that represents and the unity it can and should bring to humanity. 

In the Episcopal Church we attempt to show that in our liturgy when we gather together around the altar and drink from one cup. Unfortunately, we have not been able to do that in a year and a half.  Some people worry that has negatively affected the celebration of communion. And so even those in our one small denomination have begun to debate the Eucharist with more fervor.

            We never completely stopped debating it, but we found other things to argue about.  However, discussions about the Eucharist have become prominent again because of the pandemic.  When we could not have communion, some people got creative and attempted to consecrate over the internet.  Then people like us started providing Eucharist “to go.”  Both of these methods were criticized by some. Then once we could have communion, everyone split on how to distribute it.  I was totally against using these cup/wafer combinations.  I got over that because it turned out to be the best option for our church.   Other churches chose other options. Most churches still don’t have wine.  Some are using fancy tweezers to dip the bread in the wine and then place it on people’s tongues. It’s anarchy out there. 

Yet, even I, raised in the Roman Catholic Church and rather passionate about communion, found that compromise didn’t have to mean we were diluting the sacrament.  At some point I realized that it wasn’t the presentation that was the most important thing.  The most important thing was the sacrament itself, the way it can transform us from the inside, the way it can transform our community. Augustine wrote, “Take and eat the body of Christ… Lest there be division among you, eat of what binds you together.”

            I think it’s essential to celebrate diversity and what makes us unique.  It would be wrong for us to pretend that we are all the same or that we agree on everything, or even most things.  However, let us never forget that what binds us together is constant. What divides us is temporary. Why do we spend so much time arguing about temporal things?

            No matter how we distribute or receive communion, we believe God’s presence is there, tangibly. It’s a gift that Jesus gave us and a gift that will never run out.  In a time when change seems like our only constant, my prayer for all of us is that we can cling to that which doesn’t change.  That is God’s presence with us in the sacraments of the church- God’s incredible display of love and compassion he displayed in sending his son to earth. Cling to that.  Hold on to it with all you are and all you have.  The rest will pass.  God’s love for us—God’s desire that we are unified in that love—that will last forever.

A piece of the weight of glory: June 6, 2021

(This will be my last post until Aug 16th as I am leaving for sabbatical.)

 Year B Pentecost 2                                                 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1                                                                             

This may shock some of you, but camping is not my thing. I like the idea of camping, but not the actual sleeping on the ground part. I blame my dislike of camping on some early childhood experiences.  You see my family was never big into preparation—like checking weather. One of my earliest memories was when we lived in Belgium.  For some reason we decided to go camping right before a huge storm.  All 6 of us were in one tent, which was not nearly strong enough for the rain and the wind.  My dad and oldest brother held the tent up while the rest of us slept. I was only 4 or 5 at the time and didn’t recognize how hard that must have been for them.  I just remember waking up periodically in the night, seeing them, and having no doubt that we would be safe. 

Photo by Jarhead Core

            Paul used the image of the tent when talking about our earthly existence.  It’s not surprising that he used this image since he was a tent maker.  He was probably intimately aware of the usefulness of a tent, while also mindful of its limitations.  A tent was never meant to be a permanent home, much like our earthly bodies are not meant to be a permanent home.   

In this letter to the Corinthians, Paul was attempting explain to the Corinthians why we can’t use human standards when trying to determine the success of the Gospel of Jesus Christ or our success as disciples. In the first part of the letter, he spent a lot of time defending himself and his suitability as a leader. 

Since his first visit, the people of Corinth had been wooed by false prophets---ones who spoke more articulately, looked more powerful and performed numerous miracles.  These prophets also told the people of Corinth what they wanted to hear. Paul wasn’t impressive in speech or appearance and he never told people what they wanted to hear. It was usually quite the opposite.  Therefore it is understandable that the people of Corinth had wandered off the path.

As a result, Paul had the rather Herculean task of convincing these people that suffering and hardship wasn’t a sign of failure or weakness---it might even indicate you are doing things right.  Suffering was and is inevitable when following a crucified Messiah.

To make his point, Paul contrasted our outer natures and our inner natures.    When Paul referred to our outer nature, it was more than just our bodies.  It’s all that is ephemeral—all that is passing. That includes our bodies, our minds, our social networks, our homes, our victories and our defeats.  It’s everything that is seen.  The inner nature is the new life we experience when we come into a relationship with God. 

We might assume that when Paul refers to our inner nature, he is talking about the afterlife, but that is not the case. He is clearly describing the present when he writes, “Our inner nature is being renewed day by day.”  That inner nature is what gives us the strength to handle what is happening all around us—what is happening to our outer nature.

He then wrote, ^“For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen…” I found myself quite enraptured by the phrase “eternal weight of glory.”  I always associated that phrase with heaven and eternal life.  But if we have an inner nature that is being renewed day by day ---right now, we must therefore have a portion of that weight of glory right now as well.  It’s not the eternal weight of glory, but it is glory none the less. 

But what is the weight of glory? It is the thumb print of God on our souls.  It is the part of us that cannot be touched by all the stuff that life throws at us.  It’s the weight that holds our tent upright.  So even when our tent is falling apart, even when the world seems to be falling apart, we do not lose heart.

As Christians, we live in this in-between place.  We are in a place where our bodies limit us yet our hope remains in that which is limitless.  Right now our bodies are fragile and not meant to last forever.  Most of us have seen evidence of that in our own health.  But it’s not just our bodies that our fragile, it’s our whole world. 

The fragility of our world has been abundantly clear over the last year.  Most of the things that we took for granted were compromised by a virus.  Entire industries and governments were brought to their knees. Even those things we hold sacred, our houses of worship and our families were separated from us. We lost people who were incredibly important to us and some were denied the opportunity to mourn in our Holy spaces.  Yet, we do not lose heart, because we carry (right now) the weight of glory.

That is what Paul had that the false prophets could never convey, a faith that no matter how bad things get, pain and suffering never has the final word, not when you are grounded by the weight of glory.

We have a tradition at the Annual Council of our diocese where we read memorials for people who have died who were active in the diocese, whether as clergy or lay people.  After the names and stories were read, we would have a moment of silence and then our previous bishop would say, “May they rise in glory.” I always liked that phrase.  It sounds triumphant. Here on earth the weight of glory steadies us.  It gives us a strength that only God can give.  But when we die, then that glory allows us to rise into a new life with Christ. 

As Christians, we are in an in-between place and sometimes that feels precarious and exhausting.  Yet God doesn’t abandon us in this in between world.  He gives us something, something that never decays, never wastes away.  He gives us an inner nature that is being renewed day by day and a weight of glory that holds us up so we can stand against even the greatest and most unexpected storms.  Today, may we all stand with the weight of glory holding us up.  One day, may we all rise with the eternal glory of Christ.

 

Marked as Christ's Own: May 30th 2021

 Year B, Trinity Sunday                                                    Romans 8:12-17                                                                      

One of the parts of my job I have always enjoyed is talking with parents and Godparents before a baptism. It’s one of my few opportunities to talk to people in a small group about the very basic tenets of our faith.  What I typically do is walk them through the liturgy itself as pretty much everything we believe about baptism is in the words of the service itself.   I usually end by admitting that while there are many prayers and words in the baptismal service, you could, if you really needed to, skip them all and simply say, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” I always feel a bit sheepish admitting this, as if I have just pulled a fast one over on the family.  Yet as I reflected on that particular line this week, in anticipation of Trinity Sunday, it had a different effect on me. 

I rarely preach on the Trinity.  Most preaching professors warn their students not to try to preach the Trinity.  It gets too complicated and almost any explanation of the Trinity ends up being labeled as heretical.   Trinity Sunday is one of the few feast days that celebrates a doctrine rather than an event, which means it’s kind of easy to ignore, because who wants to celebrate doctrine?  But it’s more than just doctrine.  And it’s more than an elaborate cliff note to our baptismal liturgy.

Over 10 years ago, a book called “The Shack” was written. The Shack wasn’t a perfect book, but there was one thing I really loved about that book. It brought the Trinity alive in a way I had never experienced before. It made me want to hang out with every member of the Trinity....live with the Trinity.  Intellectually I knew what the Trinity was. I am not saying I have ever claimed to understand it, but I had the working definition.  Yet this book made me want to have a relationship with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. And at its very essence, that is what the Trinity is about—relationship—their relationship with one another and our relationship with the triune God.

Paul had a unique relationship with God, different than the disciples who had actually met Jesus in the flesh.  Jesus spoke to Paul after his Ascension into heaven which is what led Paul to transforming his life.  He went from persecuting Christians to becoming one of the greatest Christian theologians and evangelists of all time.  This is amazing when you consider he never met Jesus. His experience with Jesus was limited to a bright light and a voice from heaven. It was over in a few minutes. 

The fact that Paul was able to address God as “Abba” (which is essentially Daddy) is remarkable because it means he had an intimate relationship with God.  In his Letter to the Romans he wrote, “When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God…”  Consider that moment when a child (or maybe an adult) calls out to a parent after having a nightmare.  It’s a moment of desperation and instinct, when you call on the person you know will always protect you, always come to you. That was Paul’s relationship with God.  His relationship wasn’t merely lovely prayers and exquisite theological arguments.  It was made up of cries in the night to the one he knew was listening. 

That is the relationship we are all meant to have with God—the kind of relationship we can’t always define but also can’t live without.  I believe that at our very base level almost all humans have personal relationship with God.  Even when self-proclaimed atheists are desperate, they call out to God.  Some might consider that insincere, maybe even delusional, but I think it’s proof that we are (at our very core) God’s children-- even those of us who don’t believe in him are still God’s children.

I have to admit that I have never dwelled on this part of this passage, because I am always a little uncomfortable when people pray to God as Daddy or Mommy.  Perhaps it’s because I am accustomed to the formality of the Episcopal Church, but it just seems unnatural to me.  Yet what struck me this time was the astonishing fact that this was Paul calling God Daddy.  Paul was not the warm and fuzzy type. He had been a Pharisee, a keeper of the rules. He followed the letter of the law. I am not saying his faith was insincere.  It was very sincere.  But before he heard the voice of Jesus, he definitely wasn’t calling God Daddy.  In fact, before Jesus came to the earth and embodied God, Jews were not even able to say the name of God.  Even when writing the name of God, they would leave the vowels out because to say or write the name of God was forbidden.  Yet here Paul is telling the Romans that as children of God, we call God Abba. 

This wasn’t Paul merely repeating church doctrine.  His letter to the Romans was written before the Gospels were written.  Surely he had been taught about Jesus, but it’s clear that he wasn’t merely repeating something someone told him.  He knew God intimately.  And if a Pharisee who once persecuted Christians can know God this well, then we all can.  Paul wasn’t trying to explain the Trinity here, but he was showing what it is to be in a relationship with God.

We have a baptism at the later service…which is a very appropriate thing to do on Trinity Sunday, not merely because we baptize the child in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, but because we are blessing a relationship. Our catechism says that in baptism we are adopted as God’s children and made members of Christ’s body, the church. 

We are all born to a human family. Some of us are adopted into a human family. But every single one of us has the opportunity to be adopted into God’s family.  That family is far from perfect, but it is enveloped in God’s perfect and unconditional love.  My very favorite part of the baptismal service is the end where the priest makes the sign of the cross on the forehead of the baptismal candidate with oil and says, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.”  The oil will wash off, but God’s promise will be with that child of God for all time. 

All of you who are baptized in the name of the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit are marked as Christ’s own forever.  And once you are marked, you can never escape God’s tenacious love. He will find you wherever you go.  Even in your darkest time when you are certain God is nowhere near, I encourage you to touch your forehead, make the sign of the cross and remember what it is to be sealed by the Holy Spirit. Remember what it is to know God and be known by him.