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

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

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

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

Photo by Jarhead Core

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Marked as Christ's Own: May 30th 2021

 Year B, Trinity Sunday                                                    Romans 8:12-17                                                                      

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Linger in God's Word: May 16, 2021

 Year B, Pentecost 7                                              Psalm 1 and Acts 1:15-17, 21-26                                         
          Acts chapter one tells us about one of the first big decisions that the apostles had to make after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension.  That was, who would replace Judas as one of the 12 apostles? They made that decision by casting lots.  Casting lots was fairly common in the Bible.   It was a way to prove the impartiality of a decision.  It is much like flipping a coin at the beginning of a football game to see who gets to receive the kick off.  The apostles, and those who came before them believed that God was guiding this coin or dice. In a sense, it was a way for the person making the decision to take themselves out of the equation, so there would be no bias.

            Even knowing that, it seems like a strange way to make a major decision.  This choice was a huge choice that Peter and the disciples were making. You would think they would want to be pretty careful after what happened with Judas.  However, let’s keep in mind, that this was not the only method they were using. They had already narrowed it down to two people.  How had they narrowed it down? Were there resumes and speeches?  Were there interviews and background checks? No.  The only qualification was this: they had to be with Jesus from the beginning of his ministry (the baptism of John) through the time Jesus ascended. 

            Both Matthias and Justus fulfilled these qualifications.  While the list of qualifications was short, that does not make them unimportant.  Being a witness to the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus was no small thing.  That witness required sacrifice and commitment.  Therefore, no matter which side the coin was facing, the person was already deemed qualified by the apostles. What the coin was determining was who God was actually calling. 

            The more I thought about this, the more appealing casting lots became.  I have talked to a number of people who have shared with me that they have felt more indecisive this year because of the pandemic.  It seemed that once COVID hit, we had to consider things that we had not previously had to consider.  Is it safe to go to the park? Do I need to sanitize everything when I come home from the grocery store? Can I visit family for vacation? We got a lot of rules from the CDC and the government, but then there were gray areas and always, new decisions to be made. One of the especially frustrating parts was that the variables kept changing. 

I remember sitting at my kitchen table, trying to plan our meals for the week and thinking, “I can’t possibly decide what we will eat this week.  I can’t make one more decision.”  Mental health professionals have said this decision paralysis is typical in highly anxious times.  When you are anxious, it’s really hard to make a decision.  So rolling die, seems like an ok idea to me. 

            Unfortunately, not all decisions work like that.  The psalm appointed for today has a more nuanced approach to decisions.  When you first read it (or in my case the first 10 times), it seems judgy and less than helpful.  It puts humans in two categories, the wicked and the righteous.  The righteous delight in the law of the Lord.  Everything they do shall prosper.  The wicked are doomed.  They are like chaff that the wind blows away. It’s very black and white and we Episcopalians usually prefer to dwell in the gray areas (unless it’s COVID rules).

Part of the challenge of this psalm is that the translation is not ideal.  It begins by talking about those who are happy because they have not walked in the counsel of the wicked.  Instead their delight is in the law of the Lord and they meditate on the law day and night.  When we read the word law, especially in the Old Testament, we think of rules.  Who would delight in rules or want to meditate on them day and night?  I know a fair amount of good people, perhaps even righteous people.  Not one of them delights in rules. 

The Hebrew word that is translated to law is torah and can have many translations.  The better translation in this context would be God’s teaching or God’s word.  Remember, this is the first psalm out of 150.  It’s essentially an introduction to a treasure trove of wisdom.  The author might have even been suggesting that we would do well to meditate on the following psalms as they are a way to know God better.           

You might think, well that is all fine and good if your job is being a pastor.  It’s a lot easier to spend time meditating on God’s word when you have to preach on it.  That’s absolutely true.  Most of us don’t have the time to meditate on God’s word day and night.  Yet I am not sure that is what the text actually means.  While there are people who meditate on God’s word day and night, not even the apostles did that every day and every night.  What if instead…we find a way to linger or dwell in God’s word?

When the apostles were trying to choose a new apostle, the first thing that Peter said was, “Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled….”  The whole reason they were set on choosing a 12^th apostle was to fulfill scripture and to do that, they had to know scripture.  Obviously I am biased and I think that everyone should read the Bible.  But I also know it’s overwhelming and a fair amount of the Bible is kind of dull.  But the great thing about lingering in God’s word is you don’t need very many. Pick one line of scripture that feeds your soul and commit it to memory.  It’s kind of like a mantra.

But how do we choose when there are so many? A good one is what many of us know as “The Great Commandment.”  At one point, Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was.  His response was, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment.  And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” Write that down on a piece of paper or put it on the home screen of your phone.  Read it. Digest it.  Linger in it. 

The Hebrew word in this psalm that is translated to meditate is bit more physical than mental.  It means to utter or moan or even growl.  You don’t just read God’s word and consider it as a scholar.  You marinate in it until it is in the very marrow of your bones.  That’s why churches like St. John’s have the 10 Commandments on the wall. It’s not decoration.  It’s literally carved into the marble. Because God’s word is meant to be carved into our souls.            

There will be anxious times or times when we are grieving-- when we will need to make a decision or just need comforting words to hold on to.  The Great Commandment is in our Rite 1 liturgy  (page 324).  If you grew up with that liturgy, you might already have it memorized.  Now you can memorize any line.  There are lots of good ones.  The reason I recommend The Great Commandment is that it is helpful for decisions and just life in general. If you are making a decision, you can roll the dice.  Or you can ask yourself.  Will this decision help me love God and love my neighbor?  If it does, then it’s the right decision.  Whatever line of scripture you choose—read it.  Digest it. Let it become a part of you.  Let it become the best part of you.  Because I can guarantee you, that there will be a time, you will need God’s word, when you will need it desperately.  So find it now.

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

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.

Easter: April 4, 2021

Easter, Year B                                                                       Mark 16: 1-8                                                               

           When we had to close our church building last year weeks before Easter, I thought that would be the hardest moment of the pandemic for the church.  I comforted myself and others with visions of Christmas inside, surrounded by poinsettias and carols.  When we were not able to worship in person for Christmas, I said, well we will definitely be open for Easter.  And we are. Alleluia, Christ is Risen! We are open!

            But I have to say, it’s not what I pictured a year ago.  If you had told me then that we would still be wearing masks, separated by 6 feet, unable to sing the hymns-- I would have disagreed vehemently.  I’ve decided denial is a unique form of optimism. I am thrilled to see your faces and hear your voices--but there is a small part of me that is disappointed.  This is certainly better than meeting online, but it’s not the way it’s supposed to be.  I know that others feel that too because some have said that they don’t want to come if it has to be like this.  It’s not the way it’s supposed to be.

            I cannot help but wonder if that is how many people feel about the ending of Mark’s Gospel.  There is no appearance of the resurrected Jesus.  Not only that, but the last line is: “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Jesus never appeared and talked to the disciples.  He never sat and ate a meal with them.  The women ran away in terror.  This is the original ending of Mark. 

            Now if we were allowed to have Bibles in the pews, I could direct you to the end of the Gospel of Mark and you would see that while it ends on verse 8, there are two possible additions.  There is a “shorter ending” and a “longer ending.”  It is the only Gospel where you get to pick your own ending.  Most Biblical scholars will tell you that the earliest versions of the manuscript ended at verse 8.  So why do we have these alternate endings?

            Because this ending feels unsatisfactory.  This is not what we want for Easter.  To be fair, these 8 verses aren’t completely devoid of Easter imagery. We know that something miraculous happened because the huge stone has been rolled away and there is an angelic messenger announcing that Jesus is risen-- but we want to see Jesus—alive.  We understand that these women are afraid, but in the other Gospels, we see the disciples move past the fear because they get to meet the risen Christ.  I don’t want the Easter story ending in silence and fear. 

            Perhaps that is what makes this Gospel ending so appropriate for Easter 2021.  We are back in church.  There are lilies.  It’s definitely Easter.  Yet there is still silence (no congregational singing) and fears (too many to mention).  While I was so excited when I found out we could open, I was also afraid that people would be disappointed, because it’s not the same.  And I am not sure it ever will be.

            That scares me and I know it scares many of you.  But I learned something about faith and fear over this last year and while studying Mark.  Many assume that since the women ran away from the empty tomb in fear, then that implies they failed in their mission—that they did not do as the angelic messenger asked them to. They were supposed to tell the disciples that Jesus was going ahead of them to Galilee. It says they didn’t tell anyone----well not immediately.  Obviously they must have, or we would not be telling this story 2000 years later.

            Throughout the Gospel of Mark, fear doesn’t imply desertion or even failure.  Fear is a part of our journey with Jesus.   That is why angels are always telling people not to be afraid…because they know it’s a natural reaction to encountering God.  There were many times when the disciples were afraid and they didn’t always look so good when they were.  And yet…the fear did not stop them as followers of Jesus and it definitely didn’t stop Jesus.

Photo by Jonny Gios

            I’ve always found it interesting that the women were so concerned about the stone.  Given everything that had happened, and all that Jesus had foretold, why were they worried about a stone-- a stone that could have been rolled away?  But isn’t that always the way, instead of looking for openings and new opportunities, we looks for roadblocks and impediments.  Instead of rejoicing about worshipping in person with you lovely people, I’ve been freaking out about what we can and cannot do.  And I am not saying we should not be taking these important precautions---we should.  However, once we have done all that we can do, then we need to put ourselves in God’s capable hands.  We can rest in the assurance that we worship a living God who continues to walk with us even when we stumble around in fear.

            While the women were worried, they didn’t let that stop them from going to the tomb.  That’s what matters…when all the other disciples hid or ran away, these women showed up.  They didn’t just show up, the text says: “When they looked up…”  They faced their fears and they looked up, they raised their eyes and their heart to the road ahead.  When they did---they realized that God had already removed the stone.  They just needed to open their eyes wide enough to see it.

            As we move into this 2^nd or 45^th phase of pandemic life, let us take a new look at the perceived barriers in front of us.  We may find that those barriers aren’t really barriers at all. They are opportunities for a new path.  The angelic visitor told the women that Jesus has already gone ahead of them to Galilee.  While they stared at an empty tomb---while the disciples hid in a locked room, Jesus was already charting a new course. He was moving ahead. 

            I don’t know what is next for our schools, our jobs, our economy or our church.  What I know is that Jesus is already there.  He’s been busy moving boulders out of the way.  When we follow him, it might feel like a tricky obstacle course at times—but the obstacles aren’t endings, they are new beginnings.  That doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy, but it’s still amazing and achingly beautiful at times.     Let’s not spend too much time looking back because that’s not where Jesus is.  He’s on his was to Galilee and the question is—are we ready to follow?

 

 

Slightly Alive: March 15, 2021

 Year B, Lent 4                                                           Ephesians 2:1-10                                                                               

             One of my favorite movies is the Princess Bride.  If you have not seen it, you should…now.  I can wait.  Just pause me and come back.  Since you have now all seen it, I don’t need to recap the whole thing.  There is one scene near the end where they were trying to bring the main character (Wesley) back to life.  Two men took Wesley to a man named Miracle Max.  Miracle Max examined the body and proclaimed him “mostly dead.”  The friends asked him what he meant and he replied, “There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive.”

            I was reminded of this quote when I read Ephesians this week.[1]  It starts with, “You were dead through your trespasses and sin in which you once lived…”  It’s unusual to hear, “You were dead…”   There are a few people out there with near death experiences---you might even meet someone who died on the operating table for a minute and lived to tell the story.  But you are never going to find someone with experience being dead.  Yet Paul, was speaking to a group of people.  While he was speaking of spiritual death (rather than physical death), for Paul, it was no less serious.  Spiritual death was like the character in Princess Bride—mostly dead, but still slightly alive.  While being dead through trespasses and sins is serious, there is a part of that person that is slightly alive—and that is the place where God’s breaks in.

            The first four verses of Ephesians are heavy with talk of sin and death, but there is a major shift about half way through our reading for today.  “But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ…”  God loves us, even when we are spiritually dead, even when we don’t have time for him, even when we have fallen away from him.  Often when I read the New Testament, I am almost envious of these new Christians.  They had an excuse for being spiritually dead in the past.  They may never have heard of Jesus Christ. 

            Knowing that, I imagine that once they did hear about him, it was a complete transformation.  It was a true conversion experience.  And you know, I want that.  I was baptized as an infant.  I was raised in the church with a Christian family. My church never scarred me. And now I have been to two seminaries and served in two wonderful churches.  I have no excuse for being spiritually dead. 

            Despite not having a good excuse, I have to admit, that I have felt that at times. I felt it when I was going through infertility treatments.  I felt it after my miscarriage.  And I have felt it over the past year as I have gazed out on the empty church every week, as I explained rules that I don’t understand, as I yelled prayers for a dying person through an open window because it wasn’t safe to be inside.  I would imagine that many of us have felt it, especially over this last year. 

            Yet God, who is rich in mercy and lavish with his love, makes sure that there is always a part of us that lives in his light.  God doesn’t need a big opening.  Despite the grandeur and greatness of God, it’s amazing that he can work his way into such small places. And when we accept that light and see it for what it is, God expands to fill every dead space within us.  It may not be a conversion experience, but it is no less miraculous. 

            You might wonder, well what must I do? That sounds great. Nothing. You can do absolutely nothing to earn this kind of awe inspiring love. “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God…” That is both maddening and liberating.  It’s maddening because we find value in the things we earn.  Even the love we experience from family and friends can be dependent on our action and inaction.  On earth we have been taught to earn love and we have learned that we can lose it as well.  God’s love is different than any we have experienced. It is often compared to the love of a parent for a child, but it’s even greater than that.          We are loved not because of who we are or who we are trying to be, but whose we are.  We are God’s creation---the jewel of God’s creation.  Paul writes, “For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works….”  While we cannot earn God’s love with work---we have been created to do good work. 

        Here is where I have to disagree with The Princess Bride. Being slightly alive is far different than mostly dead.  It might not always feel the way at the time, but it is.  Why? Because we are alive in Jesus Christ.  We are alive because of Jesus.  In a time in our world where we are seeing so much death, let us be grateful for the life we have.  “For we are what God has made us” and not only that, we are created to do God’s work, to shine God’s light in the darkest places.  So it’s ok, if you don’t always feel like a super Christian or even a slightly passable Christian.  You might not even feel fully alive.  God still looks at you every minute of every day and says to whoever is listening, “That’s my child and she is going to do wonderful things.” 

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[1] I was actually reminded when I read a commentary on Ephesians that mentioned Princess Bride.  That was just too hard to explain.  I give credit to this commentator for the illustration: https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-in-lent-2/commentary-on-ephesians-21-10-5