Heavenly Army: Christmas

Christmas                                                                                 Luke 2: 1-20                              Christmas Eve is my least favorite time to preach…partly because there are no new takes on this story.  It’s a story we all know so well, in so many different forms.  Yet, I would guess, that there are some things we don’t know as well as we think we do.  I remember my first New Testament class in college. I thought it would be an easy class for me as I had been going to church and Sunday school (which was called CCD in the Catholic Church) every week for my whole life. The professor, probably understanding that some of us were a little overly confident, started with a series of questions that seemed obvious, but were not.  We got most of them wrong.  One he liked to ask was, how many magi were there?  Well?  Anyone?  We all said three but then he pointed out, it never says how many there were, just how many gifts there were.  And the magi don’t even appear in our reading from Luke. 

It is the Gospel of Matthew that has the Kings and the star.  In Luke, we have shepherds and the heavenly host, but no star, no kings.  Those poor shepherds had no star to follow.  The angels told them that the sign they were to look for was “a child wrapped in bands of cloth lying in a manger.”  Bethlehem was (and is) a fairly small town, but it wasn’t that small.  They had to do some searching. 

                Those shepherds were motivated.  An angel had spoken to them and informed them that the Messiah, the Lord, had been born.  It wasn’t just one angel, it was an angel with the multitude of the heavenly host.  Now, when we see this depicted in movies or art, it’s usually a very gentle and bucolic scene.  There is a soft light, maybe one to two angels who don’t look scary or intimidating.  But if that was the case why would it say that the shepherds were terrified?  And that was before the heavenly host showed up. 

Until I started preaching this text, I never considered what a heavenly host meant.  Perhaps a few angels with harps? The Greek word that is translated to host is army. This was heaven’s army, all there to deliver a message.  Ironically, it was a message of peace: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those who he favors.”

                It’s an interesting juxtaposition, an army delivering a message of peace.  God sent this army not to fight, but to tell a few powerless shepherds that the Messiah had come down in the form of a helpless baby.  Most of us have probably held a newborn baby at some point.  They are tiny.  They can’t even hold their head up.  That is how God decided to show up, not with the heavenly army that would have probably been a lot more impressive, but a baby dependent on two humans who also had little power.

                I understand the symbolism of God coming to earth as a human so God could have the experience of walking with us. But sometimes I wonder, why wasn’t God born to a great king or political leader? Then God would not have to sleep in an animal trough.  Jesus would have been protected and his message would have gone farther because important and influential people would have been listening.  Jesus would never had to die because he would have been related to the people in power.  It would have been so much easier.  Or…if you are not liking that idea, Jesus could have been born to the same parents in the same place, but that heavenly army could have stuck around…just in case.  That would have been a lot less risky.  No one would mess with the guy who had the heavenly army backing him up.

                God could have taken any of those options, but no.  God chose to be born like any other child, to parents who were good and holy, but not people with power or influence. I love that about God, but sometimes it also makes me crazy and frustrated.  There are days when I think, we could use a heavenly host right about now, to straighten things out around here.  God has yet to take this recommendation from me. 

                Most days, I feel powerless and a little overwhelmed.  Sometimes that makes me feel weak.  What if we could take our perceived weakness and understand it for what it actually is, vulnerability. The beauty of that vulnerability is that it is something that our creator and savior understands, because he experienced it—as a baby who couldn’t hold his head up, as a young child learning to speak, as a teenager struggling with all the crazy stuff that happens, as a young man who would be abandoned by his friends and then die a horrible death.  That death didn’t make Jesus weak (even though some chose to believe it and maybe still do).  That death allowed him to rise again.  Could he have called on the heavenly host to rescue him from that gruesome death? Yes. But once again, God chose the path that aligned Godself with the most powerless and dejected human beings.

                That is what we celebrate on Christmas, a God who displayed power not with might and armies, but with compassion and love.  Don’t get me wrong, Jesus did miraculous things in his time on earth, but it was never to control people or display his greatness…it was to heal people (their bodies and their souls).  Jesus didn’t defeat the tyranny of the Roman Empire.  If he wanted to do that, he would have brought the army.  Instead, he lived in a way that displayed humility and service.  He died in a way that showed courage and surrender.  He rose again not to bring vengeance on the people who abandoned him, but to forgive them and inspire them.   

                On Christmas, we can and should bask in the warmth of his glory, but also remember that God’s work is not yet done, not even close.   It is up to us, to do that work.

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.

Mr. Rogers and Isaiah: December 8, 2019

Year A, Advent 2                                                              

Isaiah 11:1-11                                                                                 

            Lately my son has been talking a lot about good guys and bad guys (mostly bad guys).  Not only do humans fall into these categories, but animals do as well. Once we were playing a game where we were running from a lion.  Joshua decided to shoot the lion.  We don’t let Joshua have toy guns, but he can make anything into a gun.  I explained to him that I didn’t want him shooting a lion.  He replied, “But lions are mean.”  I then tried to explain to him that while lions are dangerous, they are not innately bad.  We then had to discuss whether there would be any circumstance where shooting a lion would be appropriate and it all got very muddy.  I decided perhaps we should avoid a safari for a family vacation.     I have noticed that in most popular children’s shows and almost all movies, there is always a bad guy or bad animal.  I guess it makes things interesting for a young mind.  But it makes me sad that at the age of 3, my son is already categorizing people into good and bad and thinking about injuring people and dangerous animals.  I have attempted to explain to him that God created us all good, but so far, that’s just not working.  If a 3 year old is already programmed to perceive people as good and bad and talk about shooting people, imagine how we adults have been programmed. Even if we intellectually have moved past that, it’s still there in the back of our minds lurking, like an unwanted intruder. 

            This reading from Isaiah (our first reading) is often referred to as “the Peaceable Kingdom.”  It’s a beautiful and poetic passage with a moving message. There are many works of art modeled after the image that Isaiah paints.  The reading from Isaiah last week was another famous passage.  It read: “They shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” That passage is about peace between the nations, which is a fairly lofty dream.         This week the dream seems even more unfathomable.  “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.” Instead of peace between the nations, Isaiah is now envisioning peace within nature. All the animals are vegetarians.  The laws of evolution are basically tossed out. There is no longer survival of the fittest.  Every person—every animal—survives and lives together in harmony. It’s basically the Garden of Eden before the fall.  It’s a place where there are no good or bad people.  There are no good or bad animals.  All are just as God intended, inherently and permanently good.  

            This is the image that should be planted in our children’s mind. I’m not saying we should shelter them from all that is bad.  We can’t.  But it’s like we don’t even try to create this peaceable kingdom in our books or our movies.  It’s not even worth dreaming about or imagining.  That’s a sad thing.  It means that not only has hope died, but the dream that carried the hope is buried under our low expectations.    You might think, well that’s just too depressing. There is no point in dreaming or hoping for something that cannot be.  Isaiah didn’t think so when he wrote this text.  And if you think that the prophet Isaiah was some kind of Pollyanna, just read virtually any chapter in the book of Isaiah and you will see that this guy was living in a very precarious situation.  He was living in a land about to be invaded, preaching to a people who were miserable, angry, and scared.  It wasn’t exactly a utopian paradise. Isaiah called for repentance and spoke of the need for change.  He spoke the truth, even when it was unpopular. Yet in the midst of his dire warnings about the fate of Israel, he stopped and painted pictures like the one we heard today, a picture of the peaceable kingdom.  He wanted people to remember that God’s vision for our world was audacious and bold.  It wasn’t just meant to be a dream or vision but a reality, a goal to strive for. 

            Therefore, we can never stop painting these pictures, telling these stories of goodness and peace.  You might think, “That’s not effective. Then you’re just living in a fantasy.” However, consider the resurgence of Mr. Rogers. There are books about him, a documentary and now a film starring Tom Hanks.  Mr. Rogers didn’t fight bad guys.  He was just good.  He created a world of make believe where animals and people lived alongside one another in peace and harmony. He invited people into that world so they could see glimpse of what could be.  And he did more than just provide a dreamscape.        

         In the late 1960’s racial tension in America was high.  Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968 and race riots followed.  Segregation was technically illegal, but many places were still not integrated. One of those places was public pools.  Near the one year anniversary of Martin Luther King’s death, Mr. Rogers invited one of his neighbors over, a friendly black police officer.  They decided to cool their feet in a plastic kiddie pool.  Then they shared a towel.  Mr. Rogers never said a word about integration or race relations, but the image was clear. This is the peaceable kingdom.

What is amazing about that image is that when we look at it now, we don’t see anything remarkable about a white man and black man sitting beside one another with their feet in the same water.  That’s because it’s our new normal.  I’m not saying we have eradicated racism, we have a long way to go. But we have made progress.  We’re swimming in the same water now.  I’m not saying Mr. Rogers fixed the problem single handedly.  Many of our African American brothers and sisters suffered and died in that fight. But, it played a small part.

            Most of the time, a small part is the best we can do.  Yet we fear even doing that because we think, it won’t make any difference.  Despite everything Mr. Rogers accomplished in his life, he still wondered if he made any difference at all. But  we know he did.  On Friday, the church commemorated the life of St. Nickolas.  We do every year on December 6^th.  He was a bishop and probably attended the Council of Nicea, which was a big deal.   But what he is remembered for his kindness toward strangers in need. The church is not just hear to worship God serve others.  We are also hear to support one another be the people who God created us to be and build the world that God intended, the Peaceable Kingdom. 

St Francis Didn't Say That: October 6, 2019

St Francis, Galatians 6:14-18                                          

Year C                                                                         

“Preach the Gospel at all times.  When necessary, use words.”  This quote is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, the saint who we are celebrating today.  It’s a great quote, but he didn’t actually say it. He said, “It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is your preaching.”  I think you would agree that his actual words are a little more nuanced than the quote we normally associate with him.  The problem with his actual words is that it’s not a quote you can just drop in the middle of a sermon or an article and expect people to make sense of it.  Frankly, I prefer the real one, partially because I preach.  But I also think that people like to pull that misattributed quote out when they want to have an excuse not to talk about their faith.  It’s a perfect quote for Episcopalians who fear evangelism.

            The other problem with that quote, is that it doesn’t fit with St. Francis because he loved to preach. What made St. Francis unique in his preaching was that he didn’t preach in the church.  In fact, he wasn’t a clergy person.  He preached anywhere and everywhere.  He would go to fancy parties and preach to the rich and entitled, which probably took him off the invite list pretty quickly.  He would walk from village to village preaching in up to five different places a day.  If he was in the country, he would get on top of a bale of straw.  In the city, he would be on a box or on the steps of a building.  He was described as “the strange but fiery preacher.” Apparently there were times when he would get so animated, it would look like he was dancing. 

            So how did that quote get attributed to him?  “Preach the Gospel at all times.  When necessary, use words.”  It’s about action and how your actions match your words.  It’s about authenticity.  No one ever doubted that Francis lived what he preached.  He was known as a peacemaker, whether it be between the Christians and the Muslims, the rich and the poor or even between humans and animals.  He sacrificed everything he had.  He came from a wealthy family.  He could have done anything.  Instead, he gave away all he had, including his inheritance.  He chose a life of poverty. 

            That is one of the reasons that this reading from Galatians is assigned for the Feast of St. Francis.  In it Paul writes, “May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ…” It’s a little confusing when you take it out of context, so let me explain it. One of the things Paul was frustrated about was that Jewish Christians were trying to tell new Christians who were not previously Jewish that they had to be circumcised, despite the fact that was not a requirement of the Christian faith.  Some people wanted it to be a requirement, because it was a visible marker.  It was physical proof. It was also a way that they could escape persecution as some Jews were persecuting Christians at the time. 

Paul was an observant Jew and he was circumcised. He wasn’t against the practice in general. He was against doing it for the wrong reasons, doing it simply to win human approval. That is why he said that he would only boast in the cross of Christ.  While Paul had plenty to boast about, he refused to boast in anything besides the God who created him and died for him.

            St. Francis, much like Paul, didn’t feel that he had to prove himself.  He acted the way that he felt called to act.  He didn’t even seek the approval of his parents who ended up disowning him because of the life he chose.  He only boasted in the God who loved him, and loved all the people and animals he cared for.  Because he didn’t have to prove himself, because he didn’t have to earn the acceptance and love of others, he was able to achieve peace within himself.

That was why he was able to bring peace to so many people and situations, because he had found peace within himself.  That peace was not rooted in his self-perfection or actualization.  That peace was rooted in the cross, the sacrifice that Christ made, that unconditional love that he experienced and was able to share with others.  Imagine how much better our lives could be if we didn’t have to constantly earn the love and acceptance of others, if we didn’t have to prove our worthiness to ourselves and the people around us.  Imagine how free we would be.  That is what it means to boast in the cross of Christ.  I bet that is why he danced when he preached.  He was free of the weight that bears down on so many of us. 

We all know that Francis cared for animals.  One of the things that I learned when I was working on this sermon was that he started the tradition of the living nativity.  He set up an animal trough for a manger in a cave in Italy.  There were live animals and people.  He wanted people to experience the messy reality of the birth of Christ. He wanted scripture not just to be read, but experienced.

That is why I think having an animal blessing as part of our worship service is such a great way to commemorate St. Francis. Sometimes it’s messy.  Sometimes the animals are a little disruptive and distracting.  Things don’t always go according to plan and that is ok.  It’s one of the few times when Episcopalians give themselves freedom to worship without formality.  That’s why I try to embrace any disruptions in our worship service, because God is supposed to be disruptive.  That is why St. Francis made such an impression on people.  He lived into that disruption and ironically, that brought him peace and enabled him to bring peace to others.

I am not suggesting that we throw out the beauty and solemnity of our worship.  I am suggesting we remember that it is not beauty or solemnity that we worship.  We worship a God who was born in a barn to unmarried parents and turned our world upside down.    

Jesus and division: August 18, 2019

Year C, Pentecost 10                                              

Luke 12:49-56                                                             

Last week we sang “Let there be peace on earth.”  It’s a beautiful song and always makes me tear up a little.  Given the recent back to back mass shootings, it seemed particularly appropriate.  Peace-- that is what we are about in the Christian faith--- right---promoting peace and love? Then we have the reading today.  Jesus asked, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?”  We all think we know the right answer.  It’s so obvious.  We call him the Prince of Peace, at least we call him that near Christmas. Of course he has come to bring peace.  Then he answered his own question, “No, I tell you, but rather division.”  We probably  should have seen it coming given the beginning of our reading for today when he said, “I came to bring fire to the earth and how I wish it were already kindled.” It sounded rather ominous.  But other than that weird comment, this whole idea of Jesus bringing division and conflict is coming out of left field. 

            Well not quite.  Let’s go a little further back in the Gospel of Luke to the moment when Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple when he was 8 days old.  They encountered two people, two prophets.  The 1^st prophet was named Simeon.  We refer to his prophesy as the Song of Simeon.  We often hear it sung around Christmas.  “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”  You probably recognize it. It’s beautiful.  But unfortunately Simeon didn’t stop there.  He looked at Mary and said, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed…and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”  

Now, the words still sound pretty, because they are in the Bible and those writers had a way with words.  But if you think about it, anyone who is destined to cause the falling and rising of many is going to have a difficult life.  He will be surrounded by conflict.  Simeon specifically said that he would be opposed.   Typically where we find opposition, we find division.

             Therefore, this information that Jesus is providing should not come as a shock.  We had known this might happen since he was 8 days old. But there have also been a lot of references to peace.  When the angels announced the birth of Jesus they sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”  It seems like there are a lot of conflicting messages. The angels say that he will bring peace.  The prophets say opposition. 

            Which is it? In some ways, it depends on whether we are talking long term or short term. When the world ends and Jesus comes to raise the living and the dead, there will be peace.  That is what we hope and pray for.  But right now, peace is elusive at best.  If we really thought that Jesus’ goal was to bring peace when he came the first time, we would have to conclude that he failed miserably.  Does the world seem peaceful to anyone?  And if you look at the particular region that Jesus went to, that region has always been plagued by violence. 

I don’t believe that Jesus failed.  I believe that we have failed Jesus.  Jesus told people they could have peace, but everything would have to change.  We would have to raise up the lowly and bring down the proud.  We would have to stop pursuing money and status and instead share with all.  We would have to heal the sick and bind the broken hearted. It should not surprise us that his message was not well received by those in power.  He was opposed, just as the prophet foretold. 

Notice that Jesus didn’t say, “I came to bring violence.”  Jesus and his disciples never used violence. He condemned violence at every opportunity.  But he definitely brought division.  He divided the faith of his family.   He divided the faith that everyone thought he came to redeem.  In doing so, he divided families.  Just look at the disciples; they all left their families. He asked people to make a choice between following him and following the status quo. Whenever we shift from the status quo, there will be more division.

            There is nothing I can say to make these words of Jesus seem ok. We hear these words and recoil.  But consider the people that Luke was writing to.  They were new Christians, many of whom had been ostracized from their families and communities.  They were living in fear.  No one had to tell them that their world was divided.  Yet what they had, was a faith that gave them the strength to withstand the division and conflict  as it was necessary for lasting peace. 

            When we hear Jesus talk about fire, we all think of judgment and the fires of hell.  We don’t like that, especially in the Episcopal Church where we are about love.  However, fire has more meanings than damnation.  It also represents purification, refinement, and God’s presence.  Now frankly, purification and refinement don’t sound very tempting, but fire representing God’s presence is a bit more palatable.  In the story of the exodus, God led the people through the sea with a cloud.  When the Egyptians entered the sea in pursuit, the cloud turned into a flame and the entire Egyptian army was wiped out.  One commentator wrote that in the Exodus story, fire represents the power of God to effect change in the face of formidable resistance.[1]  The change was the people leaving their home and launching into the unknown wilderness. The resistance was the Egyptian army.

            Jesus came to bring peace, but the peace that he brought was so revolutionary, so otherworldly, it felt like judgment and conflict.  And you know, change can feel like judgment at times.  Often when we change things from the way that we have always been doing it, we wonder, well what was wrong with the way we did it before?  And you know what, Jesus was asking people to change.  Jesus is still asking us to change.  One of my favorite quotes, that I probably break out about once a year is, “Jesus loves us just the way we are, but Jesus loves us too much to let us stay that way.”  I wonder if change and even judgment would be less offensive if we understood that it was in the context of God’s love for us as his children and God’s desire for peace for all the children of the world.  God’s not just asking us to change to improve ourselves, but to change for the good of the world.

The song that we all love so much, “Let there be peace on earth.”  Let’s not forget that 2^nd line. “And let it begin with me.”   It doesn’t mean that we stop arguing.  It doesn’t mean that we smile more often.  It means that we do the work that needs to be done to achieve peace. That might be protest. That might be letter writing.  It might be working with the underprivileged in our community.  It might also mean being intentional about interacting with the people who you disagree with. Because while Jesus brought division, he never kept himself divided from people, even the people he knew would kill him. The more we interact with people who are different from us, the closer we can come to bringing more peace into this world.  It is very doubtful that we will see peace in our lifetimes, but we can each bring change.  We can start by changing ourselves.

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[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=4143  Matt Skinner

Walls of Hostility: July 22, 2018

Year B, Pentecost 9                                                                
Ephesians 2:11-22                                                                  

 

            When I was being considered for this position at St. John’s, I was reminded on a few occasions of the difference between Hampton and Norfolk (which is where I previously served in a church).  I dismissed these reminders for the most part. My house is 8 miles from here—which is fairly close.  There are plenty of people who go back and forth between Norfolk and Hampton. I will admit that doing it in the summer the HRBT is a form of torture, but other than that, it’s really not a major problem. 

Early on in my time here, it became clear to me that Hampton and Norfolk are different, a lot more different than Norfolk and Virginia Beach or Norfolk and Chesapeake.  There is a different culture. It’s quite fascinating.  We have this division despite modern transportation and communication that is light years ahead of what it was 25 years ago.  It’s odd because normally we associate walls with things that divide us, and bridges with things that connect us.  Yet in Hampton Roads, it is bridges that divide us. Sometimes, I feel like we are East and West Berlin in 1965.

            This reading from Ephesians can seem a little irrelevant at first glance.  Once the Bible starts talking about circumcision, most Christians tune out.  When Paul referred to those circumcised, he is talking about Jewish people. When he referred to the uncircumcised, that  was everyone else.  The circumcision was a physical sign of a very real commitment that the Jewish people made.  At this time (about 70AD), the division between the circumcised and uncircumcised was like North and South Korea today.  That’s not completely accurate, because people did interact with one another.  However it was that drastic.  If there were interactions between Jew and non-Jew, those interactions were superficial and limited.  There were no meals together, no inter-marriage, no friendships.

            In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul was saying that this barrier (as impermeable as it seemed) was no longer relevant or necessary because Jesus died on the cross for all.  They were no longer Jew and no longer Gentile.  They were Christians, followers of Christ and that is all that mattered.  Paul wrote, “For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is the hostility between us.”  A lot of people have tried to figure out what wall he was referring to.  Was it the wall that divided the temple from the outer courts?  Was it a wall between heaven and earth? 

I am not sure why we debate it as it seems to me that the text is clear.  It’s the hostility between us.  There is no real wall.  Humans manufactured the wall through fear, jealously, anger, and apathy.  The wall was created by humans for humans.  Unfortunately we build pretty good walls, even when they aren’t physical.  That is why Jesus had to live as one of us and then sacrifice himself on the cross. He had to show us what it was to love without walls.    

            “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.” Hearing about the blood of Christ has the same effect on some of us as hearing the word circumcision.  In many Christian communities, there has been an overemphasis on the blood of Jesus.  Some people and groups have attributed magic like qualities to the body and blood of Jesus.  It is the opposite of magical.  The blood of Jesus, and the broken body of Jesus are reminders of Jesus’ sacrifice for each one of us.  Jesus did not make the sacrifice only for one group or one country.  Jesus sacrificed for all of us.  If we can truly accept that, we can find ways to come together.  We always say that God loves everyone, but we rarely act like it.  Someone gave me a little coaster that says, “Jesus loves everyone, but I am his favorite.”  We might not say it out loud, but we act like that a lot. If we can try to believe that Jesus died on the cross for every one of us in every part of this world, we might be more inclined to make our own sacrifices. 

            In this text, Paul wrote, “He (Jesus) is our peace.” He doesn’t write that he brought peace. He does not refer to him as the Prince of Peace.  He says, “Jesus is our peace.”  It is one of the most achingly beautiful ironies of the Christian faith--that the way Jesus embodied peace was to be executed by the Roman Empire.  We cannot be sure exactly why the Romans executed Jesus.  However, it is most likely because they were afraid that he would inspire people to revolt.  They recognized Jesus as a leader and one who could inspire the masses. The Roman Empire maintained peace through oppression.  They killed the people who threatened their rule.  Jesus’ mere existence threatened their rule. The irony is that this violent sacrifice that Jesus made paved the way for real peace, not peace maintained through violence and fear, but real peace.

            I am not overly concerned about the divisiveness of the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel (unless of course it’s taking more over an hour to drive 8 miles), but I am concerned about the walls of hostility that we are building all over the world.  Humanity has become adept at erecting walls and that terrifies me.  A couple of years ago, a giant rubber duck ended up in Norfolk.  This thing is 6 stories tall and  travels all around the world.  What astounded me was the number of people from Hampton who went to Norfolk to get a picture the duck.  (You know who you are.) These were people who would never go to Norfolk normally, but the rubber duck brought them there.  I thought, is this really all we need to bring us together---a 6 story rubber duck?  Alas, the duck had to move on to its next port and that ended our temporary connection.  But it made me wonder what it would take to start dismantling our walls.  What is it going to take motivate us?  So often what brings us together is tragedy.  I don’t want to wait for another tragedy.  Frankly, I am not even convinced that would bring us together anymore. 

            We celebrate Holy Communion every Sunday.  One of the things we do in communion is we remember the sacrifice that Jesus made for us 2000 years ago.  Jesus knows that humans are fickle and tend to forget things. That is why he asked his disciples to share the bread and wine in memory of him.  Because not only do we remember the sacrifice when we celebrate communion, we come to this table together. Just for a few minutes, we remember that Jesus died so we could dismantle the walls and live as the community of believers.

            Think of the history of St. John’s, all of the people who have gathered together at the altar.  People fought wars in this town.  People on opposing sides eventually came together at the altar.  Our altar stands as a reminder of what we are called to do as Christians.  We cannot let it end here at the altar.  Church isn’t a temporary cease fire.  It’s a window into God’s dream for us.  Let’s open the windows and show people what it is to be the household of God for the whole world.

August 14, 2016: Divisive Jesus?

Year C, Pentecost 13                                     
Luke 12:49-56                                                

            When I read this Gospel passage, the following questions struck me, “Why didn’t I take my vacation this week? How come Mark got to preach on treasure and heart and I got stuck with angry Jesus? What’s so wrong with preaching on a Psalm once in a while?” The truth is, I actually love the idea of preaching these kinds of texts.  I love reading commentaries for hours on possible explanations.  But when my research is over and my fingers hover over the key board and the cursor blinks mockingly at me—I go back to those earlier questions. Why am I not on vacation? Part of my current problem is that I have been preaching a lot about the Body of Christ and the need to look past the things that divide us.  You know what is really hard for a preacher---when Jesus actually contradicts you.  It does not look good.  I would say my number one rule in preaching is: “Don’t contradict Jesus.”  Thus, after months of preaching about breaking through the walls that divide us, we have this passage.

            Jesus said, "I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”  It gets worse from there.  After that he goes into unnecessary detail about how families will be divided…because of him. 

Jesus is our Lord and Savior.  He came to free us from our sins.  He came to show us how to love.  He came to forgive us.  He never said he would be nice about it.  We have this gauzy water color version of Jesus in our heads.  It’s the same one we saw in our children’s Bibles.  Yes, Jesus is a compassionate and forgiving.  He also said some really difficult things.  He was trying to change the world and he did not have much time to do it. At times, he was very harsh with people.

            Just a few chapters before this one, we heard that Jesus, “set his face to go to Jerusalem.”  This was a point of transition.  It tells us that he was preparing for his death. While he was all powerful and divine, he had taken on  human form.  As a human, he knew that he would suffer great physical and emotional pain.  When he said, “I came to bring fire to the earth and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism (which in this context meant death) and what stress I am under until it is completed!”  A lot of people hear this and think that Jesus is excited about the judgment that will befall humanity.  It does say that he brought fire…but the fire that he brings is the same fires that burns him.  It is his own death and he is closer to it every day.  Of course he wishes it was already kindled.  Of course he’s a little stressed about it. Imagine living for years knowing that you were going to have a gruesome death.  Imagine what it would feel like every day as that moment got closer and closer. 

            That makes pretty good sense, but what about this whole bringing division instead of peace?  We call him the Prince of Peace.  The Prince of Peace should not be talking like this.  While there is no easy answer for this, I believe there is an explanation.  Notice that Jesus does not say, I am bringing division and I could not be more pleased about.  He does not say that he wants the world divided.  He just knows it will be.  When Jesus was born into this world, it was already horribly broken.  People thought the Messiah would be a quick fix.  He would come and say some nice things, do a couple of miracles and all of sudden all would be well. Jesus knew that it would be much harder than that.  God tried the easy way ---he have us paradise in the Garden of Eden.  It did not last long. 

While Jesus accomplished a great deal in the three years he was in public ministry, it didn’t make much of a difference.  People were still insistent on overthrowing the Romans.  For many people in Israel, peace was a world where Israel was the most powerful nation.  In their eyes, peace was not about justice, it was about who had the power.  That is similar to how we operate today.  There would be peace if the United States was in charge. I find myself longing for the days when we were the only superpower. That is the kind of peace that I believe Jesus wasn’t bringing.  He wanted peace that was built on justice and mercy, not power. 

There is a blessing we use at the end of the service.  “The peace of God which passes all understanding will guard you hearts and minds in Christ.” That is the peace that Jesus wanted—that he still wants, but it was beyond their understanding then and it continues to be misunderstood by us today.  That is why we still say that blessing at the end of the service.  In our best moments, we yearn to understand that peace.  Jesus also knew the only way to teach people about this peace that passes all understanding was to humble himself in front of those who had the supposed power, humble himself to the point of death.  In order for that lesson of real peace to sink in, his body was broken.  Jesus had to break so people would finally understand what it was to be whole, to be holy.  We had to witness him break himself for us.

            Yet even after that ultimate sacrifice, Jesus knew that we would be even more divided than before.  When the Gospel of Luke was written (about 40 years after his death) the Jews who chose to follow Jesus were ostracized.  They could no longer worship in their synagogues.  Much like Jesus predicted, families were torn apart.  This is not a pretty picture, and it is not meant to be. 

            I started by saying that by speaking about the importance of unity and the Body of Christ, I had contradicted these words of Jesus.  I was being a little overly dramatic. Jesus did not like division any more than any of us.  But he knew that when you follow him with authenticity and passion, you are going to tick some people off.  Being a Christian is not about pleasing people.  It’s not about going with the current.  It’s going against it.  Being a Christian isn’t easy.  It’s not just about showing up to church once awhile (although that is a really good start).  It’s about making Jesus your number one priority.  Every decision is made in the context of what it is to be a follower of Christ.  I can guarantee you that if you take that road, it is not easy. I fail in some way almost every day and that is when I have the courage to try.  The worst for me is when I do not even have the courage to try.  Failing is so much better than capitulation.  At least we try.      

            In the very beginning of the Gospel of Luke, Mary and Joseph brought their infant son to the temple to be presented.  A holy man named Simeon was there and he immediately blessed them and said, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed… —and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” Talk about a mixed blessing! From the very beginning, Jesus’ own parents knew that their son would bring conflict to the world and even pain to his mother.  But they also knew that the pain would be temporary and that in the end there would be salvation for all. 

After we adopted Joshua, every parent told us how wonderful and hard it is to be a parent.  No one said, “It’s really not worth all the pain and agony.” We should treat our God with the same love we have for our children, our parents, our partners, our best friends...   We should make him just as much as a priority. God already gave us everything.  He asks the same of us, everything.