Fear and Love: April 28, 2024

Year B, Easter 5                                   1 John 4:7-21         

                    I am afraid of a lot of things: cockroaches, mice, large crowds, Philadelphia drivers, cancer, COVID, infections…just to name a few.  Some of these are rational fears.  Some, not so much.  Thus when I see this line from 1^st John that says, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear…”--- I want to know how I can get this kind of love. I am pretty sure I know God’s love.  I know that I am loved by God.  It’s something that I have felt certain of my whole life and has held me up, even when I doubted every other thing.  So why do I still have these fears? Unfortunately the author of 1^st John wasn’t talking about the more mundane fears like rodents and aggressive drivers, or even the serious fears like disease.  John was most likely talking about the fear of God’s judgment, which was a much more prevalent fear in this time period.

          Especially in our modern age, most Episcopal clergy tend to focus more on love than judgment.  Our presiding bishop, Michael Curry’s favorite thing to say is, “If it’s not about love, then it’s not about God.”  There is no doubt that Jesus talked a lot about love and that is an obvious theme in all of 1^st John. In the New Testament, you will find some version of the Greek word agape (translated to love), 140 times.   However, judgment also shows up a few times in the New Testament…not as much, but it’s definitely there.  While 1^st John was written a little later than most of the gospels and Paul’s letters, there were still a lot of people at that time who thought that Jesus was returning sooner, rather than later, and when Jesus returned people would be judged. That judgment would determine who was saved and who was not. That meant it was more on the forefront of people’s minds, this fear of God’s judgment. 

Frankly, I think that would be better to focus on that fear rather than all the others fears that preoccupy our minds because there is a clear solution to that fear.  All these earthly worries don’t have clear solutions, but there is an answer to the fear that we hear about in 1^st John.  That answer is God’s love.  John wrote: “perfect love casts out fear.”  Perfect love is God’s love. God casts out fear.

I wonder if we were really confident in God’s love for us and we felt that love, then maybe we would not worry as much about the concerns of this life.  So often we find we worry about how others might be judging us or we might even be pre-occupied by our own self judgment.  While few people like to contemplate God’s judgement, that would be a more productive thing to worry about—because God can help us in very tangible ways to find freedom from that judgment. That is what God’s love can do. It can free us.  Yet it is really hard to free ourselves from these other worldly concerns, probably because they are our own creation.  It’s hard to let go of what we create.

          While I love the Episcopal Church, I worry that we have watered down God’s love a bit too much. We have allowed it to evolve into a Hallmark emotion.  God’s love isn’t an emotion.  God’s love is action.  This text from John spells it out: “God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only son into the world so that we might live through him.  In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins.”  I would like to get into a long discussion on what the “atoning sacrifice” means, but I am pretty sure that would only be interesting to about 5 of you.  (You can let me know on the way out who you are.) 

What I would rather focus on is the act of God sending his son to this world…this world that had disappointed God over and over again.  God sent God’s son to be with us, to live with us, and then die on a cross so that we might understand the depth of God’s love.  According to John, that is how God’s love was revealed to us.  God wanted us to see his love in action, up close and personal so that we could then show that love to others.

          I fear many things, but I don’t fear God’s judgment. And that’s not because I am perfect.  It’s not because I am an extraordinary Christian.  It’s because I know that God’s rooting for me.  God is rooting for all us.  In sending God’s son, God was saying, “I’m all in.”  And you don’t do that for a people you intend to damn to hell.  No, you do that for people you are intent of saving…in this world and the next. 

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is in Romans and reads, “If God is for us, who is against us?” Honestly, when I think of that text, or quote that text, that is the only part that I remember.  However it popped into my head while writing this sermon and I looked it up to make sure I had the quote correct. Then I looked at the lines right after. ^“He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies.”

          I realize that there are so many things that weigh on each of your hearts.  Even those of you who may not be prone to worry, still has something that burdens you.  I feel like the majority of my adult life, I have labored over the juxtaposition of my anxiety, versus my confidence of God’s love. That’s right, I worry about my proclivity to worry. So here is what I am going to try and I commend it to you as well.  I am going to try to dwell in God’s love, rest in the assurance of God’s love for me and God’s love for all of us.  Because God’s love is so much greater than the sum of all of our concerns.  I am going to remind myself that it’s ok if there is still fear in my love because my love is not the axis on which this world turns.  God’s love is the axis on which this world turns. That is the love I choose to dwell in. One day, I hope that my love and you love might look a bit more like God’s love…but for now, we can dwell in God’s love.

May 2, 2021: Being right isn't enough

 Year B, Easter 5                                                                 1 John 4:7-21                                                             

            In the church, we like to discuss the humility of Jesus Christ.  Typically when we are referring to his humility, we are talking about his humble origins—being born in a barn to a poor couple with no connections.  Or…we focus on his death on a cross, the experience of being stripped, whipped and then hung on a cross between two criminals.  It was a method of killing that was meant to humiliate.

However, while his birth and death are powerful images, they are not very relatable displays of humility.  Where I see Christ’s humility most abundantly is in his ability to love people, even when they were wrong.  Jesus was the very embodiment of the truth, yet ironically, he was often considered wrong.   He was judged or scolded by not only the religious leaders of the time—but sometimes--- his own disciples.

 He knew he was right.  If he had wanted to, he could have forced people to see the error of their ways, but he chose not to.  Why?  We know he wasn’t a pushover.  He still corrected people and taught people.  He spoke the truth.  He engaged in debate, but it was always out of a place of love.  He was right.  He was always right and even he allowed himself the humanity of not being able to convince people of how right he was.  That….from an all-powerful, all knowing God…that is humility.

            We often act like church conflict is a modern phenomenon, or at least a phenomenon of the last 500 years.  But conflict in the church has existed as long as the church has existed.  1^st John was written in about 100 AD.  By this time, the Christian community was somewhat established.  There was some structure and even doctrine to an extent.  Once there was a core set of beliefs, people started arguing about that core set of beliefs.  That was what was probably happening in this community that the author was writing about.  People were arguing and they were so mad at one another, some left the community all together. 

            The author of 1^st John was working hard to remind people in the community to love another—not because they were all of one mind, not because they were Christians, not even because they deserved to be loved, but because God loved them.  That was it. That was the only reason that mattered—the only reason that still matters.  We love one another because God loved us first. 

And it wasn’t a gentle admonition the author was giving.  He said, “Those who say, ‘ love God,’ and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars…”  If you cannot show love to your fellow believers, then you cannot love God.   That was the interesting part of this.  He wasn’t even talking about their enemies; the author was talking about the people in their own community.  And that makes sense when you think about it. It’s harder to sincerely love the people we know than those who we don’t really know at all.

            This idea of loving one another is not new to 1^st John.  We hear about it in the Gospels, most potently in the Gospel of John.   At the Last Supper, Jesus told his disciples, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” 

Jesus said this to his disciples, right after Judas left to betray him and immediately before he told Peter that he would deny him (which by the way, Peter told him he was wrong about that.)  In the midst of all that pain, he washed their feet and shared a meal. He was showing his disciples what it was to love people, even when they have betrayed and denied you, even when they have deserted the community.  Jesus knew what they would face after his death, resurrection and ascension.  He knew how hard it would be establishing the Christian community.  He wanted them to see what it looked like, to love people who hurt you. 

            On the one hand, this all seems so obvious.  Of course we are supposed to love one another. We hear that over and over! But the rationale is less obvious.  Imagine a parent saying to his/her bickering children, “I love you and therefore, you must love one another.” I am not sure that would be very effective. 

But there is more at stake than simply how we treat one another.  The author wrote, “if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us.” The word that is translated to perfect in Greek doesn’t define perfect in the way we perceive perfection. It doesn’t mean without flaw or sin. It means completed or fulfilled its purpose.  We must love one another because that is how God’s love for us is complete.  It’s a full circle.  God loves us. We love one another.  God’s love is made complete when we love one another.  God’s love lives in us and thus we love God.  This is not simply what we are asked to do as Christians, it is our primary purpose.  It is our very reason for being.

There has been a constant tension in the Christian faith between maintaining the doctrine of our faith and loving those who we may perceive are compromising that doctrine. We have seen it in a microcosm in the Episcopal Church over the last 20 years.  We could not agree about gay marriage and ordination, so a large amount of people left.  I am not saying they were wrong to leave.  That would kind of defeat the purpose of this whole sermon.  But it split the community.  It didn’t help us get along.  It didn’t solve any problems.  It just ensured that we wouldn’t even try to talk anymore.  They can’t learn from us. We can’t learn from them.  That makes it a lot harder to love another.

So what is the answer?  For once, it’s fairly obvious—but not easy.  We do as Jesus did.  We continue to engage in dialogue with those whom we disagree. We recognize that no matter how well we make our case, we may never convince our brothers and sisters in Christ of that case.  Yet despite that, we continue to come to the table as Jesus did at the last supper. We share the bread and the wine.  We even serve one another as Jesus did when he washed the disciples’ feet. We follow Jesus’ example. 

That doesn’t mean we can no longer stand up for what we believe in.  The author of John says that when we love one another and make God’s love complete, then “we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world.” That is the great irony in this.  We think that not being victorious in an argument makes us look weaker. But in terms of our relationship with God, we have become bolder, more fearless.  I think the key is that we never stop trying to make our point. We do it as gracefully as possible, but we keep doing it, while also making sure that we listen even more than new speak.  I know this is hard, especially for a preacher.  But it is what God asks us.  Be bold. Be fearless. But above all, be loving.

Photo by Harli Marten

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.