God's Chosen Strangers: May 3

2^nd Peter 2:2-10                            Year A, Easter 5                                                                                      

    Every three years we read a portion of 1^st Peter six weeks in a row, then people like me and I assume others as well, kind of forget about it.  Usually our 2^nd New Testament reading comes from one of Paul’s letters.  He wrote a good portion of the New Testament, but not all of it.  Paul’s letters were almost always directed to communities.  Even when there was an individual recipient, it was usually written with the idea that the individual would share the letter with a specific community.  However, this letter that is attributed to Peter, is geared toward a wider audience.  The very first line of the letter says “To God’s chosen strangers in the world of the diaspora, who live in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia.”[1]  I love that line—God’s chosen strangers.  Most scholars believe that this letter was written about 30 years after Jesus died to fledgling Christian communities who were in more hostile environments, places where communities were spread out more.  Most of these were places Paul didn’t even get to in his missionary journeys.

          There really wasn’t much of a Christian identity at the time.  The term Christian only appears in our Bible three times—twice in the Book of Acts and once in the 4^th chapter of Peter.  It seems like the term is associated with the crucified Christ.  The fact that Jesus was crucified was often used as a reason to prove that Jesus wasn’t the Messiah.  It certainly wasn’t proof that he was.  Most who became followers of Christ were ostracized from their communities.  Some were able to convert enough of their family to create a new community, but some were just pushed out and isolated.

In the last few weeks we have been hearing celebratory stories from the Book of Acts about thousands being baptized in a day.  Last week we heard about how wonderful and supportive those early Christian communities were.   For the last month, we have been basking in the Easter glow.   This Sunday, our Acts reading tells the story of the stoning of Stephen, our first Christian martyr.  (A martyr is someone who dies for their faith.) The terrifying reality of our faith is that, there has never been a point where it was easy to be a Christian.  It was never meant to be easy.  When we become too comfortable with our Christianity, when it has been watered down so it can be more palatable, then we have become complacent, and that is rarely a good thing.

          One of the lines in first Peter really jumps out at you, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people…” You can just hear certain people taking that out of context. It hasn’t happened yet---I checked.  But it’s just a matter of time until someone does a deep dive and finds the phrase, “holy nation” or “chosen race.”  Those phrases should make us a little uncomfortable. It sounds like we are excluding certain people, that Jesus just came for the chosen race.  Or, that Jesus wants us to create a holy nation, rather than be a holy people.  It sounds exclusive and that should make Episcopalians and any Christians who put an emphasis on inclusivity want to cringe a little.

          But it actually means the exact opposite (and this is your monthly reminder that we always have to read the text in context.)  Remember how 1^st Peter began: “to God’s chosen strangers in the world of the diaspora…”  These words are meant for a people who are feeling cut off and ostracized, either because of their location, or the people who are around them.  They don’t have a community.  They might just have a few families who are followers of Christ that they know.  But there is also a good chance, they have been forced to leave their community or even their family of origin.  

There wasn’t Christian persecution on a large scale at this time, but we can see from Acts, that Christians were being persecuted. Peter was saying to these chosen strangers, people in the diaspora, “I know you are suffering. I know you feel alone. But you are part of a holy nation, a holy priesthood, a chosen race.” This holy nation doesn’t have physical boundaries.   You can be a part of this holy nation wherever you live. It doesn’t exclude anyone who has committed to following Jesus.  And this chosen race isn’t based on the color of your skin, where you were born, who your parents are, it’s the human race, a people that were created by God.    To a people who were displaced and pushed out, knowing that they had this distinct identity, that they were part of a holy nation created by God-- that had to be incredibly comforting.

          I think most of us know what it is to be in a place where you feel like you don’t belong.  Usually, it’s temporary.  Typically there is some place in your life you feel like you belong. Yet there are many people in our world, maybe even some people here, who understand too well, that feeling of being isolated and not belonging all the time.  To you, I want to say, you do belong. I am not saying that because we are a progressive and welcoming church.  (That is true, but not the salient point here.) I am saying that because you belong to Jesus. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people.”  God’s own people.  You are God’s people, and that’s a good people to be. 

If you belong to God, then there is no place you don’t actually belong.  There are people and places that will try to exclude you and push you out and some of them might call themselves Christian.  If and when that happens, I want you to pull this verse out of the depths of your memory and remind yourself that you belong to God and that is no small thing.  It’s the biggest thing.

This reading from John 14 contains a very misused and misunderstood verse. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”  Jesus had been telling his disciples about a place that he had prepared for them.  They were confused about where that place was, so they asked.  Jesus answered their question by saying, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.” In doing so, he was telling them, where, isn’t the point.  All that matters is that you are with me.  Because you belong to me. You (everyone of you) belong to God.  That is no small thing. It’s the biggest thing.

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[1] Translation is Common English Bible

Trouble: May 10, 2020

Year A, Easter 5                                                                              

John 14:1-15                                                                            

            “Do not let your hearts me troubled.” I have preached this text more than any other text in the Bible, but only once on a Sunday.   Every other time it has been a funeral.  It is appropriate for a funeral.  Not only does it provide these comforting words by Jesus, but Jesus assures his disciples that he is going to prepare a place for them---which most people interpret as the afterlife, heaven.  When I read it this week, I had to laugh. Because the way I wanted to start this sermon was, “Be troubled, be very troubled.” 

We are in the midst of the greatest crisis of my generation, and probably several generations.  Just this week we learned that the unemployment rate is 14% and 78,000 people have died…in 3 months.  I will not bog you down with numbers and statistics—my job is not to depress you more.  It is to provide hope---to find the good news. That is what the Gospel is---the good news. Right now, I am having a hard time with that.

            Have you ever noticed that typically, when people tell you not to worry, it’s because there is something you should definitely be worrying about?  When Jesus told his disciples “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” there was something very troubling that was going on.  This gospel reading is part of the farewell discourse. In the Gospel of John, Jesus spends several chapters preparing his disciples for his death, more time than any other gospel does. It was a very long good bye.  This farewell discourse occurs at the end of the Last Supper. It comes after Jesus washes the feet of his disciples--- after Judas leaves to betray him --- after Jesus confronted Peter and told him that he would deny him.  It comes the day before Jesus was to die a horrific death.  Jesus had much to be troubled by.  This is not some platitude coming from someone who is safe and secure. This is coming from someone about to die a violent death.

            He could have easily said, “Be troubled.  Be very troubled.”  But he didn’t.  Granted, he is God, but he was also human. How was he able to provide such an assurance at a time like that? Jesus is not known for empty promises.  God always kept his promises. The next words out of his mouth were, “Believe in God, believe also in me.”  Another translation, is trust.  He is asking his disciples to trust him.  He is asking them to trust that whatever may happen, he will not abandon them.  Not only that, he is preparing a place for them.

            Then Thomas (good old Thomas) asks the question that was probably on everyone’s mind. “Lord we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way.”  Jesus responds with, “I am the way, and the truth and the life…”  It is a beautiful statement, but I don’t think it clarified things for disciples. They still had more questions.  Philip wanted Jesus to show them the father.  Jesus seemed a little baffled by this question.  After trying to explain himself he finally said, “Believe me…” Once again, it comes down to trust.  Every time they pushed him for more details, he told them to trust. 

            Right now, we are all about plans.  The federal government is planning. The state government is planning. The local government is planning.  And even the churches are planning.  Our bishop recently put together a task force together to create a plan with various scenarios.  At our last staff meeting, we talked about different plans.  We want to know the way out of this hellscape we are in.  I get it, I like plans.  I really like plans.  I am not one of those “go with the flow” kind of people. I want to know where the flow is going, how fast it is going and whether there any alternate flows.  But right now, I am having a really hard time with all these plans.  Maybe it’s because there is so much conflicting information. Maybe I just don’t like the plans.  I am not sure.

            However, I find comfort in this reminder from Jesus when he is asked about his plans. He doesn’t explain the plan.  He says, “I am the plan….”  Actually he said, “I am the way, the truth and the life.”  That is better than a plan. That is what I am holding on to right now.  That is the good news we need.

At the very beginning of this sermon, I said I was having a hard time finding the good news.  That’s not quite true.  I know the good news, but sometimes, I have hard time holding on to it.  However, in this moment, I am confident, that (the way, the truth and the life) is what we should be clinging to. I am not telling you to ignore all the experts out there. I am definitely not saying that. What I am saying is that when you are in the depths of despair, plans and details are not the good news that will drag you out. 

            I talked to someone yesterday who told me he felt lost. I reminded him of Jesus’ words here, not because I was trying to save his soul, but to let him know his soul was already saved and the path was before him.  It was only in reminding him that I realized how lost I felt and how comforting and life giving these words truly are. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” That statement wasn’t meant to be some litmus test for salvation.  It’s an affirmation for each one of us, that we are not meant to have all the answers.  We are not meant to know the exact plan and the path.  Like the disciples who were with Jesus, our job is to follow the light, the light that is Jesus. We are in a dark time when nothing looks the way it should.  Our land seems foreign and ever so lonely. Everything is changing so fast (yet somehow times goes so slowly).  But our God remains a constant.  The way. The truth. The life of Christ are our constant.  God is the only plan, the only way that really matters.

Homeward Bound: May 14, 2017

Year A, Easter 5                                                  
John 14:1-14                                                              

            As some of you know, my parents moved here just last week.  It is wonderful to have them here.  I could not be happier for so many reasons.   Therefore it surprised me at how hard it was for me to say goodbye to their house.  My dad was in the Navy for almost all of my youth.  I was a late addition to the family and did not move around nearly as much as my brothers, but I never had a house or a place I was really attached to.  When we moved to a tiny town in upstate New York when I was 16, I was kind of miserable.  Yet I made amazing friends there and became very attached to the life my parents created. I loved that house. Even as a priest, my husband and I returned every year a few days after Christmas.  Driving up the road, I would see the Christmas lights hanging from the balcony of the deck and every light lit. The house sat on a hill and from the road it seemed like a tree house. 


Painting of the house at Christmas by my brother, Bill Vincent

          As soon as I walked in, I felt safe. I felt like I was home even though I had spent so little time there. This Christmas, as I packed up my old photo albums and yearbooks I could not stop crying.  I kept thinking, what is wrong with me??? They are coming to live near me! This is just a house. Besides, you know what they say, home is where the heart is.  That means a home can move. Yet even knowing that, it was still heart wrenching driving away for the last time.

            The words of John 14 are familiar to me and probably familiar to many people.  Those first 6 verses are the most common verses you will hear at any funeral…perhaps second only to Psalm 23, which we heard last week.   While I have never asked anyone why they chose those verses, I assume it has a lot to do with the first line, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  It’s something that we all need to hear when we are grieving.  It’s not saying, “Don’t be sad.”  It’s saying, “Don’t let your heart be troubled.”  To be troubled is a more permanent condition.  It’s the kind of sadness that has no hope. Jesus is saying, if you believe in me, there is always hope, even in grief. 

However, the part that sees to really resonate with people is, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.”  Jesus then goes on to tell his disciples who are gathered around him, desperate for words of comfort and hope-- that he is going to prepare a place for them so that “there you may be also.”  Many of us hear this and envision Jesus up in heaven in a magnificent mansion fluffing the pillows and opening the shades to let the bright effervescent light of the sun in.  What could be more comforting than knowing that when this life is over, there will be a place for us that Jesus has prepared, a place where Jesus waits to greet us?  It is an incredibly comforting image and one that I have preached at many funerals. 

            I suppose that the only thing that could be more comforting than knowing that there would be a place for us after death, would be knowing that  there is a place for us while we are alive as well.  Another way to read this text is: “In my father’s house there are many abiding places.”  If you look through many of the readings for this Sunday, you will find this theme of abiding, or living with the Lord. It would seem that Jesus was not just referring to our final home, but the place where we can abide here, in this life. Jesus was telling his disciples (and that includes us) that there is a place here on earth where we can feel the presence of God, feel as though we are safe, at home. 

            When I was at college, there was one place where I always felt safe. It will be no shock to you to know that it was the college chapel.  Yet it was surprising to me at the time.  You see, before college, I had never felt at home in a church. Church was a nice place to go.  I liked the music.  I liked the essence of church.  But it never felt like home.  It was never a place I sought.  Yet in college, the chapel was always open.  There were rooms in the basement where we could study.  One fridge was always stocked with Diet Dr. Pepper.  And no matter what time you came (whether it was 10am or 1am) someone was almost always there.  I studied there. I made friends there.  I worshipped there.  It was a safe place.  It was a place where I felt that I belonged.  The reason I felt like I belonged there was not just that there were people I knew and comfy chairs, but I felt close to God.  It was like God was right there and I could pop in anytime.

            When Jesus told the disciples about a dwelling place that was prepared for them, he wasn’t just talking about a future place where we all congregate after death. He was talking about the place where God abides.  God isn’t just waiting for us in this mysterious place called, “life after death.” God is here with us now. This was important for the disciples to know because Jesus wanted them to understand that even after he died, was resurrected and ascended into heaven, he was still there with them. There was still a place for them, on earth, a safe place where God dwelled with them.  They did not quite understand it at the time.  It was only after Jesus spent time with them after his resurrection when they were able to fully comprehend what it was to abide with God, even though Jesus was not present in bodily form.  Once they started to understand that, they were able to help other people have a sense of that abiding presence of God here on earth.

            My parents moved last week.  I helped them a little bit on their move.  Even when their stuff was still in boxes….even though it was only the 2^nd or 3^rd time I had been there…I had this overwhelming feeling that I was coming home.  It is nothing like where they used to live.  It has none of the familiar smells, sounds, or views. But they are there. That is their dwelling place, which means it is a safe place for me.  I feel the same way about St. John’s.  When I walk into the sanctuary….it does not matter what day it is.  It does not matter whether it is full, empty or mostly empty…it feels like home.  It feels like the place that I belong, not because I am the rector here, not because I know the people here, but because this is a place where I can feel God.  That is my prayer for all of you; that you can find God in this place, that this can be a home for you in your joy, in your grief, and in your doubt.  There is always a place for you here.  But more importantly, there is a place for you anywhere you go.    When you experience the love of God, you are home.  Welcome home.