While in their joy they were disbelieving...

Hebrews 11.1 tells us that "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the certianty of things unseen."  And yet even in seeing and touching, the disciples can't quite grasp that "assurance of things hoped for" piece.  Or maybe they just aren't sure what to hope for.  Jesus' death was, to say the least, tragic.  The carpet had been ripped from beneath them, life was spinning rapidly and it no doubt felt out of control.  Last weeks lesson tells us why they gathered in a locked room, "for fear of the Jews."

But to have Jesus alive, again.  To proclaim that their rabbi, the one who was so despised that conspiracy brought him to death on a cross, was alive, well that was most certainly a stickier situation.  To leave that room and proclaim his resurrection would, most certainly, assure them of a similiar fate.

So then, perhaps their faith was weak because they hadn't a clue what to hope for.  Or maybe it was because even in seeing and touching, there wasn't much certainty.  Was he a ghost?  An imposter?  An apparation of grief and exhaustion?

Faith is tough to muster.  Jesus helps it along by reminding them of their shared experience.  This is what you've heard me say.  This is how it has to be.  This is what we hope for.

Without their past experience of Jesus, I'm convinced they sit in their disbelieving.  Instead, they have their hearts and minds opened by him, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Readings for Easter 3, Year B

tricky stuff

The majority of our Tuesday morning pastor's Bible study was spent dealing with the very uncomfortable commission that Jesus gives his disciples.  He begins by sending them out as the Father had sent him.  Then, he breathes on them and gives them the Holy Spirit.  And then he says, "if you forgive the sins of anyone, they are forgiven.  If you retain the sins of any, they are retained."

If you surveyed 1000 people throughout the last 2000 years of history, I'm guessing that the #1 question that group would have for Jesus is, "why did you give power to your church to retain sins?"

What this difficult bit of text seems to be saying, as far as I can tell, is mostly lost in translation.  It would be better to read it (and Bill please tell me if I'm wrong), "If y'all forgive the sins of any - they have already been forgiven.  If you retain the sins of any - they have already been retained."

So the job of the Church, then, becomes not the judge of what sin is forgivable and what sin is not, but instead the job of the Church is to discern whom God has forgiven and who He has not.  From my experience the former will include everyone and the latter, well the only people who God does not forgive are those who do not themselves forgive.  Remember that old prayer, "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us."

This small piece of scripture has been abused, a lot, and for that my heart aches.  But to ignore it because of its past is to allow that abuse to continue.  As preachers, we must work to find the spirit of the text and then educate our congregations.  We can't change the whole Church, but we can be faithful in our little corner of it.

the power of the plural

TKT noticed in our Pastor's Bible Study yesterday that the lessons and Collect for Sunday are all plural.

all who have been reborn... show in their lives

the whole group of those who believed

how good and plesant it is when brethren live together in unity

we declare to you

a week later his disciples were again in the house, and this time thomas was with them

It is the story of Thomas' return to the community - from singular to plural - that strikes me today.  For whatever reason, Thomas was not there when Jesus showed up for the first time.  Last year I wondered if he was out following "the way, the truth, and the life."  This year, I wonder if it was a self-imposed exile.  Was Thomas out there wandering, wondering what next?  It had all fallen apart right before his eyes.  He had gone from "let us go with him to die" to "lord show us the way" to not even being there while the rest prayed together for a new course of action.

But with the rolling away of the stone and the resurrection of Jesus, it was time to get Thomas back.  So some of (or all of) the disciples went and found him.  They encouraged him to return to the plural, remembering that it was the singular that lead Judas to betray Jesus.

Are we taking seriously the call to reconcilation that brings people, all people, out of singularity and into the plural?  Who do we ignore?  Where are our blindspots?

Easter Day Sermon

On a friday evening 2000 years ago on a hill near Jerusalem a man said three words that should have had no impact on the course of human history.  According to John's Gospel, Jesus breathed his last breath on Friday and said, "it is finished."  For all intents and purposes, it was finished.  Jesus of Nazareth the one so many had followed as a great teacher, a miraculous healer, and the anointed one of God was dead.  The revolution that it seemed like he would usher in was over.  It was finished.

    We may not speak with such certainty, but often life is lived with the assumption that it is finished; that evil has won.  As they stood on the banks of the Red Sea, watching the army of Pharaoh approach rapidly, the people of Israel cried out with terror to Moses, "Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die?"  Is it finished, Moses?  Are we finished?  Is the release from bondage that you promised already over?

    There are many times in our lives where the question, "is it finished" comes creeping in.  A less than favorable diagnosis.  The announcement of layoffs.  A spouse leaving.  A loved one dying.  The devil will, over and over again, use the events of our lives to convince us that it is finished, that evil has won, and the kingdom of God is no longer worth pursuing.

    This is where the story begins this morning.  Mary Magdalene, Mary the Mother of James, and Salome begin their week cleaning up after the events of last week because, for them, it seemed as though there was no future, the time for hope was over.  As soon as the sun had set on the Sabbath the women went about buying and preparing the spices and oils that they would need to anoint the body of their friend and Rabbi; work that should have been done when he was placed in the tomb, but the with sun setting rapidly and there was no time.  Early, very early Sunday morning these three women set out from their homes, spices in hand, to finish the work that needed to be done.

    The main problem, as they saw it, was how they might get the very large stone out of the way so that they could get to the body.  It was, as Mark tells us, the sole focus of their attention.  The walked and talked and wondered, "who will roll this stone away?"  With their hope snuffed out, all these women wanted to know was, who will roll the stone away so that we can finish our task and get back to living life.

    So they walked, and they talked, and they wondered, "who will roll this stone away?"

    And then they stopped talking, and they looked up, and the stone, the great symbol of their hopelessness had already been rolled away.  As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man where Jesus had once been laid to rest, and they were scared.

    "Don't be afraid," he said to the three women, "You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has risen!  He is not here!"

    And with those words Mary, Mary, and Salome became the first to know that it was, in fact, not finished.  There is more to the story.  Evil has not won.  Jesus is alive.

    The full weight of this story lies in the very large stone that had once blocked the door of Jesus' tomb.  When the women came upon the tomb, the stone had already been rolled back.  God is in the business of rolling stones away; he is all about giving new life; he says when it is finished, and the story is not over.

    With the rolling back of one stone, death has been defeated and life will never be the same.  Because that stone was rolled away, life can be lived with hope rather than despair.  For even when the diagnosis is death, even when it seems as though the worst possible ending is certain, even when we think we know that it is finished - it is not.  God longs to restore his creation to the fullness he intended for it.  He offers hope when things look grim.  He offers peace when life is in turmoil.  He offers love when hurt abounds.  And he offers it all to you, this morning, in the form of one very large stone having been rolled away.

       All he asks is that you walk with him, that you join him as the story continues to unfold.  "Go, tell the disciples, and Peter, that he will meet you in Galilee," the young man tells the women.  Jesus has risen, and the work continues, and he'd like for you to join him.  Al it requires is a belief that the stone has been rolled away and the motivation to meet him in Galilee.

    The trembling Israelites on the shore of the Red Sea had to step our in faith with a wall of water on their left and on their right.  In order to be freed from slavery they had to walk where it made no sense to walk.  So too, we must step out in faith and walk in the way of the kingdom, the way of self-sacrifice, the way of love, the way of compassion.

    On a friday evening 2000 years ago on a hill outside of Jerusalem a man said three words that forever changed the world.  It was finished, and yet it had only just begun.

    The tomb is empty.  The kingdom of God has prevailed.  Join in the celebration.  Let's get going, the king is alive  Amen.

there was not a needy person among them

When Jesus tells the young rich man that he should sell all his possessions, give the proceeds to the poor, and follow him - we say, that was an isolated case, you don't have to do that.  And, as a good capitalist with a Bachelor of Science degree in Business Administration, I tend to think that's right.  God is not a socialist.  But neither is God a capitalist.

Perhaps getting rid of all material possessions is a bit much, but the Church, in Acts, has one standard that I think we should all strive for, "there was not a needy person among them."  A young-ish man from the church I served in Maryland once said to me, "I don't mind that people have second homes, I just think everybody should have a first home first."

When we, as the Church, pray to a God who "established as new covenant of reconcilation" it seems to me that we are talking about a God who longs for a world where there is not a needy person among us.  It is difficult, seperating wants from needs.  Does everybody NEED an ipod?  Probably not.  Does everybody NEED a roof under which to live?  Yeah, I think so.  It is difficult, people will abuse the system.

But, it seems to me, the system will be self-policing for when no one has need, no one has reasonn to cheat or steal.  "There was not a needy person among them" is a high bar to live up to, but I think it might be time to at least start trying.

Readings for the 2nd Sunday of Easter, Year B

Tuesday in Holy Week

My Isaiah knowledge is a bit shaky - it has been several years since I've done much work with 1, 2, 3, Isaiah and the Suffering Servant, but the word coming to me from that prophet is powerful.  It is just offered almos as a side thought in the midst of a long pericope, but it again opens my eyes to see the vastness of God's Passion - his deep desire to restore all of creation.

It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the trives of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach the end of the earth.

Restoring his chosen people, again, was not on the agenda when God sent his only Son to walk the earth.  Well, it was and it wasn't.  Restoring God's chosen people would happen, but only as all the nations - the the end of the earth - were restored to right relationship.  Only as salvation made its way around the globe.

"Among those who came to worship at the festival were some Greeks.  They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." (Mk 12.20)

By Tuesday of his last week, the news had spread.  God's dream, his desire to restore everything was coming to fruition.  The larger plan was fixin' to start.

Monday in Holy Week

In preparation for next year, when, God willing, the whole congregation of St. Paul's will walk through the entirety of Holy Week togehter, I'm trying to very intentionally walk it this year.  My reflections this week will be based on the Daily Eucharistic Lectionary texts.  The title of each post links to the readings.

Upon my first reading of John's account of the Anointing of Jesus I chuckled at John's editorial notes about Judas Iscariot.

(the one who was about to betray hime)

Judas was upset at the waste he saw; thought it should be given to the poor.

(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)

I thought surely this was a late addition by an angry church, upset that Judas ruined everything.  But then I thought about it again.  Jesus had to have known Judas was a thief; being the Son of God and everything.  Yet he allowed Judas to continue to run with the other 11.  Even this notorious sinner, if we are to believe John, was allowed in, close in, to the mission and ministry of God himself.

I usually think that if I'm going to walk alongside of Jesus, I need to get cleaned up first.  Today, however, it seems different.  If Judas, with all of his chuztpah was allowed to tend the common purse because of the love Jesus had for him, how much more am I called to and allowed to do, even in my vast messiness.  Hopefully, my sins don't directly lead to the death of Jesus, but more than likely they do.  And still, Jesus invites me, and he invites you to walk right beside him.

the same mind

I haven't watched it in a while, but Dogma is probably still one of my top 10 favorite movies of all time.  The language in it is very, very dirty, but it is just so very good.  It points out some spectacular holes in organized relgion generally, Roman Catholicism specifically.

When I read Philippians lesson for Sunday (2.5-11) I can't help but be reminded of the scene when Bethany (the main character) is confronted with the fact that she is the rightful heir of the line of David and will at this time and in this place be the savior of the world.

She does what any thinking human being would do; she runs.  She runs and she hides, and tries to figure out what on earth she is going to do now that she knows her history, knows her place.

I can't remember if it is Chris Rock's character or another that finds her, but the conversation that follows is priceless.  I goes something like, "Why do you think there isn't much in the Bible about Jesus in those interim years.  He had to deal with being the Son of God."

Paul calls us to do that same work.  To have the same  mind as Christ is to come to understand that God has chosen us as his children.  He wants to be in relationship with us.  He wants to to, indeed is glad to, give us the kingdom.

Dealing with that can be hard.  It can be hard to imagine that God would care about me, much less love me.  It can be hard to be forgiven when the guilt is so very comfortable.  It can be almost impossible to come to terms with the new life that comes from the knowledge that God chose me.

But with time and practice and prayer, it is possible to have the same mind as Christ.  To find forgivness, to live no longer for self but to lay down my life so that God can give it back to me again.  It just might mean disappearing for while to think and to pray.  And that, well I think that's ok.

F.D. Maurice Homily

There is something quite profound about the church celebrating the life and ministry of Frederick Denison Maurice on April Fool's Day.  For me there are equal parts joy and trepidation in honoring this man with whom I hold both strong agreement and deep disagreement.

F.D. Maurice was born in 1805, the son of a Unitarian minister.  In 1827, when he should have received his law degree from Cambridge, he instead had to refuse the degree as he could not subscribe the the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion.  Only confessing Anglicans could receive a degree from Cambridge, and Maurice most certainly was not a confessing Anglican in 1827.   Over time, however, his thoughts and opinions changed so that he was ordained an Anglican priest in 1834.

As I said, on one hand, I love F.D. Maurice.  In 1843 when Karl Marx penned his famous line, "Religion is the opiate of the Masses," Maurice wrote, "We have been dosing our people with religion when what they want is not this but the living God."  Perhaps growing out of his long and varied history with the Church of England and the requirement to sign off and agree with every jot and tittle of the doctrine of a religion in order to even receive a degree for his studies, Maurice knew better than most that strict religion is, in fact, very different from one's worship of and encounter with the living God.  He saw the liturgy as the meeting point of time and eternity, the place where God and humanity could meet, if only for a moment.  He saw worship as the fountain from which humanity drew its strength.  Maurice understood how the line could get fuzzy - when liturgy is where we encounter God it can be hard to discern between God and liturgy.  He wrote, "I do not think we are to praise the liturgy but to use it."

This side of F.D. Maurice makes me want to stand up and cheer.

But as Randy Travis wisely reminds us, "On the other hand..."  On the other hand F.D. Maurice is the source of much angst for me.  My undergraduate degree is in Business Administration and I am a fan of capitalism and the Adam Smith's invisible hand.  As noted earlier, Maurice and Marx were contemporaries.  At least as far as I can tell, they occupied two sides of the same coin.  Maurice founded the Christian Socialist Movement which saw itself as a key player in the pending conflict between "unsocial Christians and unchristian  Socialists."  A conflict that didn't really pan out.

This side of F.D. Maurice makes me very, very itchy.

What we stand to learn from F.D. Maurice, however, has nothing to do with our agreement or disagreement with his writings about liturgy, his opinions of the church, or his politics and economics.  Or maybe it has everything to do with that.  What the life and ministry of F.D. Maurice teaches us is the breadth and length and height and depth of our own tradition, and more importantly, the breadth and length and height and depth of the love of Christ that surpasses all knowledge.

As followers of the King of kings, we are called to his service, to the best of our abilities.  Some are called to be teachers.  Some are called to be doers.  Some are called to work for justice.  Some are called to offer charity.  And all have a place within the glorious mess we call the Church.  At the altar we have the opportunity to partake of the fountain of life in the Body and Blood. We find ourselves nourished and renewed in order that, for the 1st, 50th, 300th, 10,000th time we return to the world.  We are sent forth from this place filled with the peace that surpasses all understanding, freed from sin, blessed by God ready to serve the Lord in his various incarnations.  Or, as our baptismal covenant says, "To seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves."

Love him or hate him, F.D. Maurice is a piece of our tradition.  Agree or disagree with his theology, politics, or economics, he was loved by God, gifted for service, and is remembered for his "passion for justice and truth."  It may be April Fool's Day, but perhaps the most foolish thing of all is to forget that in Christ the triumph of the kingdom is assured, despite our differences, or perhaps, even, because of them.

Drink from the water of life this day so that you might be prepared for the service of the Lord in the minutes, hours, and days to come.  Amen.

Consider yourself sent

My homily for Morning Prayer this AM.

    I have spent a great deal of the last 21 months of my life pondering what it means to be sent; to that point that Keith and I and small group of St. Paul's faithful made the decision to start a ministry that was intentionally "sent."

    We based our name and our purpose in the 21st verse of 20th chapter of John's Gospel, "Jesus said to his disciples, 'Peace be with you.  As the Father has sent me, I am sending you."  And so, 2021 was born as "a community sent."  We meet on one Saturday evening a month in a home somewhere near Magnolia River to tell people about the love of God without the strings and baggage that come with a church, and a steeple, and an organ, and finger sandwiches.  I believe God is glorified by 2021.  I believe that all of heaven rejoices when the several people we have met who haven't set foot in church in a long time join us for a conversation and a meal.  Being sent is a good thing.

    In the process of creating something "new", however, it became abundantly clear that contrary to what the research and the experts and the talking heads tell us, our small town, run-of-the-mill, 1979 Prayer Book Episcopal Church itself is very much committed to being "sent."

    Maybe being named after the best known missionary in Christian history helps.  Maybe being a strange mixture of people that lives in the hazy boarder of old south money, old south poverty, and shoot the dog and sell the couch retirees opens the door to experience all sorts of different types of people.  Or maybe the parish has come to take seriously the call its patron Saint, Paul, makes to the Romans.  "How are they to call on one in whom they have not believed?  And how are they to  believe in one of whom they have never heard?  And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?  And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent?"

    With Jesus as the gate, we have each been given the permission to go.  And while we all go to different places and offer different gifts, we each do so with the Good News of God in our hearts and on our lips.  God is glorified in a word of encouragement to a child struggling in school.  He is glorified in a caring mother sharing a dinner with her busy children.  He is glorified in the offering of a hand, or an ear, or a shoulder to a lonely neighbor.

    As we prepare to be sent forth from this place and begin the day, give a thought to where you will go?  While you are there, what will you proclaim?  And as the evening draws to a close, who will you have glorified today?  May God bless you this day, for as it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"  Amen!

who were they afraid of?

The Passion Narrative (the story of Jesus' arrest, trial, and execution) is so well known to the preacher that there is a very real danger of missing the details.  Ignoring, for a moment, the Festival of Unleavened Bread, let's look, for example, at the second sentance.

"The chief priests and scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him; for they said, "Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people."

Now, who do you think the chief priests and scribes were afraid of?  As I have read this narrative, it being so familiar to me, I've said to myself, "well obviously they are afraid of the people; that they will turn violent, and the lives of the chief priests and scribes will be in danger."

Ah, but remember that it is the Festival of Unleavened Bread.  The remembrance of the Passover and the Israelites Exodus from Egypt.  The streets of Jerusalem are alive with excitement, energy, and a sense of hope.  Maybe this year, God will restore them fully to their promised land and remove their oppressors from power.  Knowing this is a real possiblity, the Romans would have stocked the streets with soliders.  The Governor, Pilate, came to town to see that nothing happened.  Soldiers with itchy trigger fingers, or knife hands, as they case may be, are ready to quell any protest.  A riot this week, is most certianly a bad thing.  Not only would the Chief Priests and the Scribes be in danger from the people, but their whole way of being, the comfy, cozy relationship they've setup with their Roman oppressors would have fallen apart.  I riot means the thumb of Rome coming down on them, and that they can't afford.

So they find a way to arrest Jesus by stealth; by the betrayal of one of his own.

It never ceases to amaze me how a familiar story can have all sorts of deeper meaning when time and care are taken to read the details that fall between the lines.

Palm Sunday

Reginald Fuller, the late, great Biblcial scholar, says that one can't preach the Liturgy of the Palms on Palm Sunday and must, instead, preach the Passion.

"Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, while doubtless the major theme of this Sunday in popular estimation, is both historically and liturgically merely a subsidiary theme, serving only as a prelude to the passion. Any homily dealing with the entry into Jerusalem should make this clear." - read the rest here.

And with all due respect, I can't help but disagree.  The Passion Narrative has it's rightful place across Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, but we don't get there without the "triumphal entry" into Jerusalem.  Jesus doesn't end up on a cross without shouts of "Hosanna!"

I've noted before how disfunctional I find the Palm Sunday service.  I know the tradition is there to read the Passion, but I know the tradition is there to tell the story of Jesus' entrance to the place where he would ultimately die.  I think both stories are worth telling, and they need not, and really should not, be crammed together as if we don't have time to really care about either one.

The onset of Holy Week is not about rushing to Easter with its egg hunts, baskets, crawfish boils, and oodles of peanut butter candies.  It is about taking our time; walking with Jesus in his last week and ultimately seeing the depth of God's love on Good Friday.  We'll get there eventually, but until then, let's be present as our Lord rides into Jerusalem on a donkey.

Readings for Palm Sunday, Year B