A Safe Place in the Chaos: Nov. 20th, 2022

Christ the King, Year C                                Psalm 46                                                                               

            Chaos.  That is what Psalm 46 is describing.  It doesn’t sound like chaos as they are using poetic words.  In the psalms, a roaring sea is typically used to describe chaos.  It’s a sign of cosmic disorder.  The psalmist writes of the earth moving---earthquakes.  Waters that rage and foam could be any extreme weather.  They didn’t have weather forecasters like we have, predicting what will happen, when it will happen, and then explaining why it happens. It was all a mystery, and thus even more terrifying.  The other symbol of chaos was nations at war.  The psalmist wrote that the nations raged and the kingdoms were shaken.  Chaos.

            I don’t remember a time in my adult life when the world has not seemed a little chaotic---at times, overwhelming so. Just this week we had mass murders on two separate college campuses.  Young  people are traumatized and terrified, and not for the first time. It’s been a particularly bad week in our country.  And of course, there is no shortage of bad weather or nations at war.  Nations are shaken.  The waters rage and foam.

            While the causes of chaos might be slightly different than they were when the psalms were written, I don’t think the feelings were that different. We like to think that people in the Bible lived in relative peace and security. How else could they have such faith in God’s protection? Yet we know that the Hebrew people were rarely at peace.  They were usually at war, often being displaced.  And when things were relatively calm, there was fear and uncertainty.

            Yet for some reason they were able to say, “God is our refuge and strength.”  Is it because they didn’t have any other source of safety and strength? Perhaps. But I think there was more.  I wonder if God’s presence was more tangible then. There were specific places where God was present. The text mentions the “city of God.”  That is mostly likely a reference to Jerusalem.  One of the things that made Jerusalem the city of God was that it was a place that held the ark of the covenant.  Interestingly, the ark of the covenant was built to be transported.  Some think it was never meant to be confined to one place.  Because God was not meant to be confined to one place.

            The beginning of the Psalm is: “God is our refuge and our strength.” It doesn’t say that the city of God is our refuge and strength—but God.  The reality is that no city, no state, no country is impenetrable.  Even our schools have become places of violence. I yearn for something solid, a place or even a moveable trunk that could hold the holiness of God, so I could reach out and touch it, feel that presence in a way that would not require faith.

            In the New Testament, God delivers that divine presence in a unique way.  It’s once again moveable, even transient.  It’s a human body.  Previously the ark of God was protected in a tabernacle. With the birth of Jesus, the tabernacle became flesh and blood. There were no walls of protection, no people standing guard.  Jesus was among God’s people for about 30 years.  That is what I really want, I want God in human form.  I want to be able to talk directly to God, see God, feel God. I don’t want to pray for God’s presence.  I just want it. Then maybe I would feel safe and secure.  We all could.

            But that’s not what we have. That tabernacle, that bodily temple was destroyed.  It was resurrected, but then taken away again.  Now we have no ark, no body.  It feels at times as though we are alone in the chaos.  “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”  We no longer have tangible connections to God’s presence, not like they once had.  However, this psalm does give us some tips, a guide if you will.  “The Lord of hosts is with us…Come now and look upon the works of the Lord, what awesome things he has done on earth.” In some ways we have to try harder to feel God’s presence.  In other ways, God’s presence is evident when we look for it.  We can see it in nature. We see it in people. We see it in the sun that comes through these gorgeous windows.  The psalmist also tells us to “Be still then, and know that I am God.” The Hebrew word that is translated to still can also be translated to “stop or sink in.” 

            This psalm is about finding God in the midst of chaos.  When the waters rage, when the nations are shaken, God tells us to stop. Most of the time, we cannot control the chaos around us.  We try. Sometimes we try really hard and that can makes us absolutely crazy.  My mom and I are worriers. My Dad always asks, “Why would you worry about something you can’t change?”  Rationally that makes sense, but it’s hard.  At some point today, make a list of those things that are stressing you out, that are maybe even creating more space between you and God’s presence.  Then cross out the things you can’t control. I bet you will whittle that list down considerably.  Then find a time or place to soak in some natural beauty, some part of God’s creation and stop.  Just stop.

            One reason we have worship is to provide that opportunity to stop, to sink into God’s presence. While God is no longer with us in an ark or the form of a human, we have the sacraments of our church that allow us to soak in God’s presence.  The definition of a sacrament is “an outward and visible sign of inward and spiritual grace.”  It’s our moveable ark.  It’s why after we consecrate (bless) the bread and wine, we put the left overs in something we call an aumbry.  Some denominations call it a tabernacle. 

            The Gospels tell the story of Jesus being in a boat with his disciples when a great storm descended upon them. The waves crashed. The ocean roared.  The disciples were terrified. Jesus stood and rebuked the wind and then there was calm.  What had once been chaos was now peace.  If you look at the ceiling of many churches, you will see exposed beams.  It almost looks like a ship upside down.  In fact, the proper liturgical name of the part of the church where the pews are located is called the nave.  It comes from navis, the Latin word for ship.  The church is meant to be a place of safety and security where God’s presence is pronounced.

I know that a lot of people think that there is no good reason to have church buildings, that you can find God anywhere.   But (and I know I am biased), I think there is something uniquely holy about churches.  They are places of stillness and calm.  They are place where the sacraments dwell.  And hopefully, they are a safe place, a harbor in the storm for all of God’s people. Because our world is now, and will always be chaotic.  Yet here is a place where we can say with assurance, “God is our refuge and our strength.”

 

People of God Do Extraordinary Things: May 22, 2022

 Year C, Easter 6                                                                  John 14:23-29                                                                                        

            Poor Judas (not Isacriot)---he gets one line, one recognition in the whole Gospel and the author feels the need to call him not by his full name, but Judas (not Iscariot).  In the Gospel of Luke, he has a full name---Judas, son of James.  In Mark and Matthew, his name is actually changed to Thaddeus.  Here in the Gospel of John, he is labelled not as who he is, but who he is not.   It’s understandable.  This scene comes right after Judas Iscariot left Jesus and the other disciples and went off to betray him.  It also comes right after Jesus predicts Peter’s denial.  Talk about and a tense meal.

And it wasn’t just tense, it was incredibly sad. Jesus had been trying to tell his disciples about his impending death for quite some time.  It wasn’t like he just sat them down for this one special dinner and laid it all out.  He had been preparing them, probably for years.  They were told it was coming, but they didn’t know when or how.  They probably hadn’t completely accepted it.   But Jesus knew.  Jesus knew he would soon die a horrible death. He would be denied, betrayed and abandoned by some of the people who he had been closest to. 

We don’t actually know what happened to Judas (not Iscariot) after Jesus was arrested.  We know he didn’t do anything horrible like Peter or Judas Isacariot.  He probably just hid with the rest of the disciples.  Because we know so little, Judas (not Iscariot) can sort of be a blank slate for us.  We might even imagine ourselves as him.  Have you ever been labeled for someone you are not rather than the person you are?

            When I have imagined Jesus telling his disciples not to let their hearts be troubled and not to be afraid, I imagined him saying these words with confidence and authority.  Isn’t that how we normally picture Jesus?  But as I studied this text and looked at where it fell in the story, I wondered if that was really the case.  Jesus was not one to hide his emotions.  He wept when we was mourning his friend.  He threw things when he was upset that people were taking advantage of the poor in the temple.   I would think it was incredibly hard for him to tell them not to be troubled, not because he wasn’t confident, but because he knew how hard it would be for them to believe and not be afraid.

            Before he tells them not to let their hearts be troubled and not to be afraid, he said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.”  Obviously we cannot know what the disciples were thinking when he said that.  But put yourself in their shoes (or sandals) for a moment.  Think of Judas (not Iscariot).  You have given up your life to follow this man.  You have seen him do incredible miracles. You have seen him raise the dead.  He has loved every person he has encountered, especially those who all others considered unlovable.  He has loved you unconditionally.  You believe he is God and will save the world.  But now he has told you he has to die a horrible death.   Then he tells you he will be betrayed and denied---maybe by you.  Then he gives you his peace.  His peace.  Would that bring you comfort? 

            Notice how he differentiates the peace that he gives from the peace of the world.  It was about 30 AD which was part of the 200 year period known as Pax Romana.  It was a period of relative tranquility in the Roman Empire, which meant there were no major wars.  The Roman Empire protected and governed individual provinces, allowing them to administer their own laws as long as they accepted Roman taxation and military control. Peace came at a price. Roman authorities would often violently crush any perceived opposition or threat to their rule.  It’s one of the reasons that Jesus was killed.  They were worried he would create an insurrection.  They crushed him and others to maintain peace. This was what people perceived as peace at the time…a lack of war. 

While we aren’t living in the Roman Empire, in many ways we perceive peace the same way, a lack of conflict, or lack of conflict immediately surrounding us.  But we don’t have to look to the Ukraine for examples of conflict. It is everywhere.  We saw it in a dramatic and deeply disturbing way in Buffalo a week ago. We see violence in our own small city. I wish that crime and hate was an anomaly, but it’s not.  This world has never known peace---whether we define it as the absence of conflict or something more holistic.  However, just because the world doesn’t know peace, doesn’t mean that we (Christians) cannot know peace.

I know that the disciple’s hearts were deeply troubled when Jesus was taken away by men with swords, and then whipped and crucified.  How could they not?  But that was not the end of the story.  Jesus was resurrected.  He returned to them and when he did, the first thing he said was, “Peace be with you.”  Because peace isn’t a one and done thing.  Even though Jesus tried to give it to them, he knew they would need more than the gift.  They would even need more than his resurrection and assurance.  They would need someone to come along side them and be with them as they attempted to carry the peace of God with them. 

He said to them, “The Advocate, The Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” The word translated to advocate means, “one called to the side of.”  It is also translated to counselor and comforter.   The Holy Spirit reminds us of what Jesus said then and what he continues to tell us now. The Holy Spirit counsels us when we cannot make sense of what Jesus says.  And the Holy Spirit can comfort us when it feels that all is lost and peace is elusive at best.    

No one knows exactly what happened to Judas (not Iscariot).  Because he isn’t named in two of the Gospels, some believe he changed his name to Thaddeus.  It wasn’t unusual for someone to go by multiple names in the Bible.  Jesus loved changing people’s names. Judas was a very common name before Judas Iscariot made it the least popular name in the world.  It meant praise.

 I like to think that Judas did change his name to Thaddeus, which means heart or courage.   Because that is what Jesus was asking his disciples in this text, days before his death. “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”  We are living in a terrifying time right now.  Personally, I feel the fear profoundly.  I don’t think we all need to change our names.  That would just get confusing, but I do think it’s time to embrace the heart and courage of those early disciples.  They were able to build a church and spread the Gospel, not because they were full of confidence and had resources.  They did it because they believed in the gift that Jesus had given them, the gift of the Holy Spirit. We still have that gift!!  So why do we act like we don’t?  Why do we Christians act like beleaguered players of the losing team in the final quarter?  We have the same gifts that the early disciples had. We don’t need to define ourselves by what or who we are not. No, we are not the church we were in 1965.  No, we don’t have to add chairs in the aisles for Christmas or Easter.

Photo by Nick Fewings 

We must let go of those memories and embrace the new people, the new church we can become.  People with big hearts and deep compassion, people who love this city and the people of this city, people who always want to feed the hungry, people who make music even with masks on, people who consume the body and blood of Christ any way they can, people who sing outside people’s windows when they cannot come out….the people of God.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  You are not who you once were. You are not your mistakes or misdeeds.  You are the people of God.  And the people of God do extraordinary things.

Time for Renewal: April 18, 2021

Year B, Easter 3                                                       Luke 24:36-48                                                                    

            There is a theory that every 500 years or so, the church goes through a major upheaval and changes dramatically.[1]  We know what happened in the 1^st century.  That is when Jesus was born, crucified and resurrected.  500 years later, the Roman Empire collapsed.  This had a huge effect on the church and caused it to shift in many ways.  500 years later, the church experienced “The Great Schism” and split into Eastern and Western branches.  500 years after that, in 1500, we had the Reformation.  Since we are at our 500 year mark people have been predicting another major transformation for a decade or so. 

How will the Christian Church change this time?  There have been a lot of theories—many have even predicted the end of the institutional church.  Then came COVID when most churches completely stopped worshipping in person.  This led to further speculation about the demise of the traditional church or even institutional religion as a whole.   This speculation didn’t start in the 21^st century.  People have been increasingly negative about the institutional church over the years. They like the idea of Jesus.  They might even love Jesus, but the church---not so much.

            I get it.  It is a lot easier to love someone who lived 2,000 years ago, than an institution that survives to this day.  It’s a lot more convenient to love a man who was perfect, than an institution that is maintained by flawed human beings.  But in my opinion (and I know I am a tad biased), you can’t separate Jesus from the church.  Jesus gave us the church.  That was his last gift to his followers.  He didn’t say, “I give you the church.” It was a little more subtle than that.  Plus, it would have been hard for him to give them something they had not yet created.  What he did say was this, “the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sin is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.  You are witnesses to these things.”

            Often in the church, we describe Jesus as the head, and the church as the body.  That is why we refer to ourselves as the body of Christ.  For a long time this metaphor was a little lost on me.  I had heard it so often, that I never really considered what it meant.  A few years ago, I came across a sermon by Augustine of Hippo, one of the greatest theologians in the history of our church.  He wrote that the disciples could see Jesus, but they could not see what he was promising.  What he was promising was not just his presence with them, but a church dedicated to him that would extend throughout the world and throughout all time.

Jesus was asking his disciples to take his message and the story of his life, death and resurrection to all nations….the world.  They could not do that with just the 11 of them.  He was aware that.  Therefore, they would have to spread the word. They would have to create networks.  They would have to create doctrine.  They would have to complete a canon of scripture.  If you put that all together, it looks a lot like a church.  I am sure it seemed a little overwhelming to the disciples.  No wonder they were joyful and disbelieving at the same time.

            I believe they knew what and who they were looking at. They were looking at the resurrected Christ.  They were looking at the very man who they had followed for years and worshipped.  They were looking at the man who had died and rose again.  While I am sure all of that was shocking, more than anything it was joyful.  The truly frightening thing was what it meant for them and their lives.  Think about it---he did not ask them to touch his face.  He wanted them to touch the places where the scars were, where the pain had been.  This was not just so they could recognize him, but so they could recognize their own place in the future of the church---a future that would include tremendous joy and pain at times.  He wanted them to not only believe in him, but believe in their own potential as witnesses to him, as leaders of this church that they could not yet fathom.

            In many ways, we have the opposite faith crisis than the disciples did.   They were able to see and touch the resurrected Christ.  They were able to watch him eat, and hear his familiar voice.  However, there was also something they had to take on faith, and that was their future, their future as leaders of a church that had not yet been created. For us today, the problem is quite the opposite.  We have seen the proof of the resurrected Christ in the existence of the church, but we have not seen the resurrected Christ in the flesh. We have not eaten with him. We have not heard his voice.  We have not touched his scars. 

Or have we? Do we not eat with him every week when we share the Eucharist? Do we not hear his voice every week when we hear the scriptures read?  Do we not touch his scars when we witness the injustice and the pain that surrounds us?  That is what the church (the flawed and sometimes hypocritical church) is trying to do, help us all experience the resurrected Christ, and live out the commission he gave to his disciples.  It is up to each one of us to carry out this mission that Christ gave his followers. 

We have a much bigger head start than the disciples in that we have this long history of the church.  This is both a help and a hindrance.  Because along with all the good the church has done, it has wounded many as well. It is our job, not to walk away from the wounded, but to help them find healing, help our church find healing.  There might always be scars, but if Jesus could live with them, so can we.            

While the pandemic brought more pain and strife than I have the capacity to fathom, it has also given the church an opportunity.  Being online, we have a greater mission field than Jesus and his disciples could ever imagine.  And I think losing 9 months of in person worship has shown many of us how incredibly precious this community is. We can see ourselves and the church with new eyes.

The last line of our Gospel reading is Jesus telling his disciples, “You are witnesses to these things.”  He was referring to his life, death, resurrection and the forgiveness he showed to his disciples.  We have not witnessed those things directly, but we have witnessed so much in the last year. Let’s take this time of regathering as a time of renewal.  We could go back to the way things were a year ago, or we could do better and go back to what Jesus asked of those disciples after his resurrection.  Spread the Gospel to all nations. Be the church that Jesus asked his disciples to create.  It’s not too late.

 

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[1] Phyllis Tickle is typically associated with this theory as she wrote about it in “The Great Emergence.”  However, I don’t believe the theory is unique to her.

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.