Be Nice

Thanks to an amazing Employee Assistance Program through the Episcopal Church Medical Trust I've started meeting with a therapist. I remember some professor in seminary telling us, "everyone should see a therapist, especially priests." Seems like good advice for those of us who carry the weight of other's secrets, pain, sadness as well as their joys, passions, on convictions.

Our first session was last week, but one line is still ringing true in my head as I study the Acts lesson for this Sunday. She said, "When I turned forty, I realized that I was done being nice. I'll be polite and kind, but not nice."

Yesterday during our lectionary group, Keith brought up the fact that in order to follow in the footsteps of Paul and Silas and be disturbers, we have to overcome a lot of trained behavior. "Don't cause any trouble." or "Be nice." are things we all heard a million times during our formative years. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, pastors, you name it, just about every adult figure in my life told me, at one time or another, that I was supposed to a) be nice or b) not cause any trouble.

But the my homiletics professor told me to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. I can to the former, but the latter, I am not equipped. I have 30 years of "being nice" to sort through. I have a child to support. I have a thousand reasons why I shouldn't rock the boat, and I'm sure you do too.

But then the earthquake happens. Paul and Silas, accused disturbers, are in prison singing hymns and saying prayers, and the very foundations of the prison are shaken. God has a habit of shaking foundations; both literally, like the prison in Philippi and literally, like "be nice." He shakes these foundations and looses our chains so that we might be set free to do his work, which sometimes (maybe even more often than not) means acting as the pea in the mattress.

Is God shaking your foundations? Is he calling you to a new way of living? A new way of interacting? A new way of disturbing?

Quit being nice. Quit trying NOT to cause trouble. Be respectful. Be caring. But always be a voice for God.

disturbing

When Paul and Silas are brought before the magistrates in Philippi, they are accused of something so simple, yet so very dangerous. "These men are disturbing our city..."

When was the last time you or your church were accused of disturbing anything? Maybe you aren't casting demons out of annoying little girls, and that's fine, but what are you doing that is disturbing people for Jesus? Are you challenging the education system to be available to all? Are you disturbing the status quo in regards to regressive local tax laws? Are you standing up for the outcast and forgotten in your fair town?

In all reality, your disturbance doesn't have to be on such a grand scale. Do you stand up for what's right at work? Do you care for your neighbor who is in need? Do you take the time to listen when another needs to share?

Being a Christian is not about being saved once and for all eternity. It is about a life changed, an attention shifted, and a disturbance created. May we all take after Paul and Silas and become disciples who disturb.

Wednesday Homily for Easter 5c

The Gospel of John contains twenty-one chapters, five of which we know as Jesus’ Farewell Discourse. Beginning with him washing his disciples feet, Jesus takes this last opportunity before his arrest and crucifixion to prepare his disciples for the road ahead. He shows them how they should live by washing their feet. He lays out for them about the things that are about to happen. He comforts their distress, promises the Holy Spirit, and finishes by praying for himself, for his disciples and for everyone who would come to believe through their message. Jesus utters a lot of words; those Bible with red letters where Jesus is speaking must be close to running out of red ink by the end of chapter 17, but he sums up his message early on by saying, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.” With fifty-five characters, plenty short to fit in a text message or tweet, Jesus tells his disciples everything they need to know.
Notice what he doesn’t say. He doesn’t say, “keep each other accountable.” He doesn’t say, “make sure you all believe the right things.” He doesn’t say, “give more money to the church.” He doesn’t say, “make me proud.” He doesn’t say any of a thousand things we think he might have or maybe even should have said. In John’s Gospel, Jesus’ singular commandment is to “love one another.” It is the descriptive by which the whole world will know Jesus’ disciples, if they just love one another.
Oh, if Jesus could have said anything else. It is so very simple to say, but so very hard to do. Most of the time we know in our heart of hearts the right thing we should do out of love for another person, but also in our heart of hearts lives a laundry list of excuses as to why we don’t do it; I’m too tired, too stressed, too busy, or they’re too lazy, too needy, too wreckless. And so we know what Jesus commands us to do, and so very often we just don’t do it.
But we can. We can live into Jesus’ commandment to love. Enabled by the Holy Spirit we can change our initial reactions from excuse making to action. Our unclean responses can be made clean by the working of the Holy Spirit because, to paraphrase Peter’s response to the leaders in Jerusalem, “who are we to hinder God?”
And despite my rather negative view of us, which reflects mostly my own issues, my own initial reactions, by and large we are already living into this commandment. Hundreds, if not thousands of times a week we decide to act out of love for another instead of love for ourselves. We take an hour or two and go to Foley Elementary School to teach young children a) how to read and b) that someone cares about them. We pick up an extra jar of peanut butter at the grocery store for Ecumenical Ministries so that the least in our community can a) eat and b) know that Foley is a place that takes care of its own. We send cards of care to those who are shut-in and alone to a) warm their hearts and b) remind them that they are beloved brothers and sisters in Christ. We do all sorts of things that show us to be disciples of Jesus; we love one another.
One of my favorite parts of Vacation Bible School is the time we spend sharing “God Sightings.” The kids share with their small groups and the large group where they saw God during the day before. The stories are sometimes hilarious, but often beautiful. One little girl told us that she saw God in helping her mom feed her baby brother. Last year we all saw God in one girl who brought her entire life savings, $100 to donate to the VBS mission fund. This week, I hope that you’ll be on the look out for God Sightings. Keep your eyes open for those times that you or someone else chooses to love another person. Remember those sightings. Cherish them, and know that Jesus’ commandment to love one another can be and is being accomplished each and every day. Amen.

a season of suffering

This may be a St. Paul's anomaly, but our pastoral care needs seem to flow in cycles. Currently, we find ourselves in a season of suffering; lots of surgeries, cancer treatments, long-term illnesses, and even death. It'll last for a month or two or more, and then we will find ourselves in a season of refreshment when the needs won't be as critical nor as numerous.

This ebb and flow of need often leaves me wondering the big questions of theodicy. Why do good people suffer? Why does it all seem to happen at once? Why do some find the healing they long for while others do not?

This struggle is heightened, for me, in the story of Jesus healing the man at the Sheep Gate. What is it about him that the heart of Jesus is stirred to help him and none of the other "many" invalids who lie about in the porticoes? If it is a sign, which all of Jesus miracles are, then what is the meaning? What is it pointing to? And why couldn't it point there just the same if everyone was healed?

As a priest there are days that I think I should have the answers to these questions, but mostly I am content to leave it up to God. When a season of suffering comes upon us, I pray for healing, I pray for strength, I pray for peace, and I know that all of those things will come to be, either in this life or the next. In the meantime I rest in the promise of the resurrection and work toward fulfilling my part of the Lord's Prayer, "your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven."

the love theme continues

"Those who love me will keep my word."

As Keith said in his sermon yesterday, "God loves you. There is nothing you can do in the next five seconds to make God love you any more. There is nothing you can do in the next five seconds to make God love you any less. God loves you too much to allow you to stay where you are."

The order is not we act and then God loves. God loves us first and our response to God's love is to to love him back. Which, Jesus tells us, means that we will keep his word. This translates to, "get off your butt and do something."

Tend the sick. Feed the hungry. Comfort the sorrowful. Whatever you do, whether in word or in deed, do it in the name of the Lord Jesus giving thanks to the Father through him. (Col 3.17).

The home of God is among mortals

I've been struggling this week. I realized that I had all these hopes and dreams coming out of seminary, but when the realities of day-to-day parish ministry took over, I got complacent, lazy even. Most of my time these days is spent in my office with my fingers on a keyboard. Sure, I'm studying scripture in order to preach the living Word to God's people. Sure, I'm praying for the flock of St. Paul's as well as my wider circle of influence. Sure, I'm doing the work of organizing and planning.

But, as the voice from the throne tells John of Patmos, "The home of God is among mortals." God has always shied away from being pinned to a location. He didn't really want a temple. When his chosen people were exiled to Babylon, they were amazed to find God active even there. God in Nineveh? No way!

According to the Catechism the ministry of a priest is, "to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as pastor to the people; to share with the bishop in the overseeing of the Church; to proclaim the Gospel; to administer the sacraments; and to bless and declare pardon in the name of God." (856, BCP) As you read that job description it sounds like the old chaplain to your members idea of the priesthood, but I think I read the pastor to the people differently than most.

When I read "pastor to the people" my first thought is not shepherd to the flock, but that crazy guy who leaves the 99 behind to search for 1 that was lost. Couple that with God's desire to dwell among mortals, a desire so strong that he deigned himself to become one of us, and I think that the chief responsibility of a priest is to be out, in the world, engaging people of all shapes, sizes, and creeds. Not with a Bible in hand to beat them with, or a collar around my neck to guilt them with, but with passion to show them that a) the church is all about love and b) that love is active all around them whether they know it or not.

It'll take some time and a lot of intentionality to reshape my personal ministry paradigm, but I have to get out of this box that I've built for myself. Sure, it is comfortable, but it is not why God called me to ministry and not why St. Paul's invited me to walk with them.

Pray for me friends, the tunnel ahead is long and dark, but I know the path is straight.

Sermon for Easter 4, Year C

I rewrote the ending in the pulpit, but didn't make that change here. You get my drift either way.

There is an age old saying that goes “the eyes are the window to the soul.” So, If you’ll bear with me on this pigged-out weekend, I’d like you to turn to your neighbor, preferably not your spouse if you can help it, and look deeply into their eyes. What do you see? Maybe a sense of humor? Maybe a tinge of sadness? Maybe some honesty? But, do you see their soul? Do you see what they are passionate about? Mostly, all you can see is the toll years have taken. Years of smiles and laughter. Years of tears and heartbreak. Years of allergies. The crisp replacement lens of a cataracts patient. The blank stare of an Alzheimer sufferer knowing that something used to be there. But if we are really honest, the eyes are not the window to the soul.
And this is probably a good thing. Can you imagine trying to get to know someone and all you could do is stare deeply into their eyes? Awkward right? I mean by now you may enjoy looking longingly into your partner’s eyes, then again maybe you don’t. But you most certainly didn’t get to know them exclusively by staring in their eyes. At some point you had to open your mouth and ask questions. It is the answers the these questions that give you a window into the soul. What do you like? What do you care about? What are your passions? What do you do?
This morning, we met someone new. Tabitha, also known as Dorcas, won’t be in our lives for very long, but as one of only a handful of people who died and raised again, we should take some time to get to know her. History tells us very little about Tabitha. She was a disciple, that is to say she walked with and learned from Jesus. She is one of very few women who are given that particular title in Scripture. She was a dressmaker. As far as we can tell, she made very fine clothes; tunics and otherwise that she was able to sell for a very handsome price. Dressmaking was her business, her main source of income, her household economy. Luke adds one other detail to his description of Tabitha; she was, as Luke tells us, dedicated to good works and acts of charity. When she died, the widows, who we can assume were the focus of her good works and acts of charity, gathered to do what people do when someone dies. They gathered at the house to mourn and to tell stories. What is interesting about this particular gathering is that the stories that the widows tell seem to be directly related with the tunics and other garments that Tabitha, the dressmaking disciple who was dedicated to good works and acts of charity, had made.
For Tabitha, dresses were the window to her soul, not because they were beautiful or expensive or for any material reason, but because these were the garments that she used to help the widows of Joppa. She sold them for good money and used that money to help others in the name of Jesus. Those dresses are the window to her soul, and in her soul we see a passion for the downtrodden and impoverished. Tabitha’s soul was filled with the message of Jesus and her life was one of good works, and the dresses told that story. But there are windows into your soul that are even more important.
The tenth chapter of John’s Gospel takes place over the course of three months, and for three months, it seems, Jesus spoke in the metaphor of sheep and shepherd. Finally, at the Feast of Dedication, somewhere in the eight nights of Hanukkah, the crowd had had enough. “Tell us plainly,” they said, “are you the Messiah or not!” Jesus' response was what? It certainly wasn’t to tell them plainly. His response was, “I did tell you,” which John never tells us he did, “but you didn't believe. The works I do in my Father's name testify to me...”
Jesus didn't speak plainly. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, his words weren’t what was important. Jesus was content to allow his actions speak for themselves. The works he did in his Father's name, works of healing and feeding; works of forgiveness and restoration; works that manipulated nature and turned water into abundantly good wine: these were the window to Jesus’ soul. Windows to his true identity. If people looked through him they would see the Father. If they wanted to know what God cares about, all they needed to do was look at Jesus. If they wanted to see how God treats his sinful and broken creation, they need look no further than Jesus.
And, Jesus says, if you've seen him for who he truly is, if you’ve been able to see through him to his Father, then you are his sheep and you will follow him. Follow him into acts of service. Follow him into compassion for all of God's creation. Follow him to the giving up of self for the betterment of another and to the glory of God. Follow him and be a window to the Father.
The eyes may not be the window to the soul. Tabitha teaches us that everything about us should be a window into our true self, the passions of our soul. People should be able see through us into our passions and our God. Be a window for God. Let people see God's love through what you do and how you live. Let people see God's passion through how you treat your fellow man. Let people see through you that the road to eternal life begins in the here and now. In the words of Peter, “get up!” Get up! Get out of the grave that you’ve made for yourself and be the window for God that he made you to be, and do it in this world, right now. Amen.

love

"I give you a new commandment, that you love one another."

Almighty God, please make it so that Jesus didn't actually say this. Amen.

I don't know if she remembers it, but there is a woman to whom I probably owe an apology. It was homiletics class and she had just given a sermon that I'm sure was good, but it was about the 10,000,000th "it is all about love" sermon that I had heard at VTS and the first one which I was asked my opinion about. I'd like to think I spoke to her out of love, but my guess is that wasn't the case. I was probably pretty short as I told her what I thought of the "it is all about love" theology that pervaded VTS.

It is all about love, in that context, meant it is all about a very shallow sort of inclusivity. It is about me, personally, and the Church, corporately, blessing everything that everyone does out of love. It was all grace.

Without judgment there is no grace. If I don't deserve punishment, my reprieve doesn't exist. It is lazy and sloppy theology, and it probably wasn't what the woman was saying, but it is what I heard.

So, when we inexplicably return to John's farewell discourse for Easter five and hear Jesus saying, "A new commandment I give you, that you love one another" my head begins to swim with the need to preach what love really means. How does loving one another play out in forgiveness and reconciliation? How does it play out in the realities of life? How does it play out when we are called to love as Jesus does? How do we nuance love in 12-15 minutes?

I'm not preaching this week, thanks be to God, but I know I'll be swimming in love language anyway.

Symbols as Windows

The old saying goes, "eyes are the windows to the soul." I'm not sure I buy this. I mean, sure, you can see some stuff in peoples eyes, I can tell my daughter is smiling just by her eyes, but there is plenty you can't see. The hollow stare of an Alzheimer's patient does not even begin to tell you the story of her soul, her passion, her life.

Jesus said that his works testified to him. His works were the window to his soul. His acts of mercy for the poor, widowed, orphaned, oppressed showed that he cared for everyone, even those who society said weren't worth the time of day. His literal feeding of the multitudes was a window to the spiritual feeding he hoped to give.

In the Acts lesson for Sunday we hear about Tabitha and her ministry to the widows of Joppa. The garments that were left behind when she died were the window into her soul. Finely crafted and able to be sold for a good price, they would help feed and tend to the widows of Joppa. They were just tunics, but they showed Tabitha's love and her service to the Kingdom.

What testifies to you? What is the window to your soul? Your passion?

Are you gifted in prayer? Is your worn out Prayer Book your window?
Are you gifted in compassion? Is your hug your window?
Are you gifted in helps? Are your dishpan hands your window?
Are you gifted in administration? Is that big event your window?

When people looked through Jesus' works, they saw the Father. When people looked through Tabitha's garments they saw Jesus. What do people see when they look through your window? Is it about you? Or is it about showing the love of God in the world around you?

Symbols that point to us are symbols not worth having. Symbols that are windows to God, well they are worth decorating, cleaning, and showing the world.

no one will snatch them out of my hand

In reading some commentaries yesterday two pieces of information seemed especially important. The first is that John 10:22 takes place three months after John 10:21. Jesus, it seems, has been harping on the theme of sheep and shepherd for quite a while. It makes sense then that the crowd would finally say, "just tell us dude!" The second piece of background worth noting is the John's community was by far the most persecuted of the four Gospel Churches.

The persecution shines a bright light on what John chooses to share. That he chooses to share with his community Jesus' promise that "no one will snatch [his sheep] out of his hand" is a powerful statement of faith. Even when things are at their worst, Jesus promises eternal life. He doesn't promise safety. He doesn't promise an easy road. He just promises that he will be there every step of the way.

In this same exchange, with the background of awful persecution shining bright, Jesus also says, "my works testify to who I am." He doesn't say, "hide" or "lay low", but rather reminds his disciples through the challenge of his detractors that just as Jesus' works are a window to his Father, so too are we called to be a window to Him.

It isn't an easy road, but it is a fruitful one, the road called eternal life.

What are you looking for?

"The works that I do in my Father's name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep."

It is fairly obvious, but this is the difference between those with faith and those without - the ability to, or perhaps better said, the desire to see God at work in the world about them.

Is the miracle of modern medicine strictly human progress or God at work through his creation?

Was that nagging voice that told me to go to Pittsburgh my Sophomore year me being to lazy to put a spring break trip together or God at work helping me to meet my partner in ministry SHW?

Those who belong to the fold learn to see the world through a different set eyes. They learn to see God's hand at work in their lives and in the restoration of the whole creation. Those who choose not to see through those eyes, well they have their explanations too.

What are you looking for? Are you looking for God's work? Are you listening for the shepherd's voice? It is real my friends, hearken to God's voice.

on being a shepherd

It is 7:33am on a Monday morning and I am sitting in my living room with FBD watching Baby Einstein. Seriously, who would have thunk it.

I tell you this because this morning I'm realizing how weak my image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd is. When we assume that sheep are stupid and need to constantly be led we weaken both our theology of God and of humanity.

In many ways, the relationship I have with my daughter is one of shepherd and sheep. In order for her to learn the ways of this world she needs people who will help keep her within the boundaries but within that space allow her to roam. She needs to learn lessons both about boundaries and about choosing the best of several good options.

That is, essentially, the relationship Jesus, the Good Shepherd, has with us, his sheep. His teaching helps us find the boundaries. His freedom allows us to make mistakes and learn the best of the many good options God has for us.

Don't be a stupid lamb. Learn from the shepherd. Grow in your freedom to roam. Be blessed by the Good Shepherd.

Easter 3, Year C Preaching Weekend

You can find my five15 slideshow here.

And here is my Sunday sermon.
When I was a kid, there was a show on PBS called “Lamb Chops' Play Along” starring Shari Lewis and her rag-tag group of animal friends; Lamb Chop, Hush Puppy, Charlie Horse, who was my favorite, and several others. Honestly, I would have no reason to remember the show except for the song that played during the closing credits; “The Song that Never Ends.” This is the song that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friends. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was, and they'll continue singing it forever, just because... this is the song that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friends.”
My sister and I would annoy each other, our parents, our selves, whoever we could, with that song. In fact, it popped back into my head on Thursday afternoon, and I've been cursing this sermon ever since. The Song that Never Ends began cycling through my brain as I pondered John's Gospel and slowly came to realize that John's Gospel is the Gospel that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friends.
The first time it seems to be over, or at least that's what Pilate, the Chief Priests and the Scribes thought, is at the end of chapter nineteen. Jesus was flogged, mocked, forced to carry his cross, and then crucified. He was dead. So dead that the Roman Soliders who broke bones for fun, didn't even bother with Jesus, he was long gone. So his friends, the few that stuck around, anyway, took him off the cross, wrapped him in a linen cloth and placed him hastily in a tomb. It was finished, Jesus said so himself. The End. Finite. Over. Close Scene and cue porky the pig.
Just as it fades to black, however, the story reopens. John adds a PS. Mary Magdalene headed to the tomb while it was still dark on Sunday morning. She saw that the stone had been rolled away. A flurry of activity involving Mary, Peter, and John follows culminating with Mary, alone again in the garden, crying when a man she thinks is the Gardener calls her by name and she recognizes him as Jesus, her Rabbi, her friend. Jesus instructs her to tell the disciples that he his ascending to his Father. She finds them and utters those famous words, “I have seen the Lord.” Cue the music. Fade to black. That's a Wrap. Jesus just said he was headed to the Father, nothing more to see here. Unless...
John adds a PPS. That evening, the disciples are locked in a room for fear of the Jews and Jesus miraculously appears in the midst of them. He offers them peace, breathes his Spirit upon them, and commissions them for the work ahead. Thomas, one of the twelve, wasn't there and so a week later, the disciples are still huddled in the same room, still with the door locked, and Jesus appears and shows himself to Thomas who recognizes Jesus for who he really is; “my Lord and my God.” This time, John wraps the story up quite nicely by saying “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” Twenty chapters. A great work. Send it to the printers. Done and done.
Ahhh... Not so fast. Seems the story still isn't quite finished. John has a P-P-P-S. Jesus shows himself yet a fourth time; this time on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. We know from Matthew and Mark's Gospels that Jesus had told his disciples to meet him in Galilee. So dutifully they go. And they wait. And they wait. We don't know how long they had to wait for Jesus to meet them, but we can assume it was long enough for Peter to get bored. “I'm going fishing,” he says. The rest follow suit. Fishing for them was not a hobby, it was a lifestyle, so they went all out. They got the nets and the boat and began to fish. And they fished. And they fished. And suddenly they had fished all night long and managed to catch nothing. It had been three years since they had fished all night and caught nothing, so you'll have to forgive them for forgetting that what happens next had already happened to them. What happens next is that Jesus shows up.
“You kids haven't caught any fish have you?”
They don't recognize the stranger on the shore line, but his question smacks them in the face.
“No!” they reply. Tom Wright puts an exclamation point on that “no” and I think he's right. These guys are on edge. They've had a pretty wild few weeks. First they came to the Holy City with their Rabbi riding on a Donkey with shouts of Hosanna ringing in the streets. And then, BAM, he was arrested, beaten, and killed. Three days later, Mary Magdalene is saying, “I have seen the Lord,” and that night he appeared to them through a locked door. Their "no" says a whole lot more.
“No! No we haven't caught any fish stranger, and we wouldn't mind if you just left us alone to not catch fish for a little while longer. Thank you very much.”
“Why don't you try the right side. Bet you'll catch something there.” He replies having no doubt heard the bitterness in their two-letter response.
By now the memories are beginning to return. Something inside them is stirring, maybe even their hearts are burning within them as they pull the heavy nets up one more time and heave them to the other side of the boat. And the catch was huge.
“It's the Lord!”
One hundred fifty-three fish!
He takes the fish and bakes it along with some bread over a charcoal fire and suddenly, they are eating breakfast together with their Rabbi. The first breakfast of Easter. "This isn't like their last supper, the last meal of their old life together, this is the first meal of their new life together," as Barbara Brown Taylor calls it – "a resurrection breakfast, prepared by the only one who knows the recipe." The bread has its own imagery – his body broken for the world. The fish has its own imagery – the disciples are called to be fishers of men. But in the end it is about gathering together again, inviting everyone, even Peter, back to the Table, restoring everyone's faith in the Kingdom and then reminding them of their call to follow him. It is a beautiful ending. And after a few more words, John's Gospel finally fades to black.
Except for the P-P-P-P-S. This is, don't forget, the gospel that never ends. It continues on with you and with me. Jesus continues to show up in our lives. He continues to restore our relationships. He continues to call us to follow him, to feed his sheep, and tend to his lambs. The Gospel that never ends goes on and on my friends in you and in me. It goes on in the flow of our life together from confession and forgiveness to breakfast around the Table to being sent out in order to follow Jesus to that next destination, that next work of mercy, that next chance to feed his lambs and tend his sheep.
Where do you find yourself in the Gospel that never ends? Are you, like Mary, called to shout with joy, "I have seen the Lord"? Are you, like Thomas, still unsure of where and how Jesus' resurrection fits into your life? Are you, like Peter, in need of God's forgiveness? Are you, like the rest, being called by Jesus to follow him? Listen for the Lord. He's calling you. He's forgiving you. He's ready for you to serve. This is the Gospel that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on my friends. Some people started living it, hopeful for what it was, and they'll continue serving God forever, just because this is the Gospel that never ends. Won't you join in? Amen.

my apology to the disciples

In tuesday's post I was awfully critical of the seven at the Sea of Galilee. I assumed, as I usually do, that they were oblivious to what was going on. I assumed, as most commentators do, that the act of fishing was, for them, a retreat to the old way, a return to life before Jesus. I assumed that that somehow in the course of less than 40 days they had given up on their resurrected Rabbi.

I no longer think that way, and I hereby offer the seven at the Sea of Galilee my apology.

Waiting is hard. According to Matthew and Mark, Jesus had told his disciples to meet him in Galilee. They didn't travel their to get away from it all, but to regroup. Jesus, like any of us who make a trip home, was busy. He had lots of people to see, and so, while the disciples waited for him, Peter decides to go fishing; not out of a desire to return to the old way, not because he gave up on Jesus, but because Peter liked to fish. But Peter and rest couldn't just throw a line in the water, pop a cold one, and relax. For Peter and the rest, fishing meant filling a boat with nets, pushing out into the Sea, stripping down, and working all night long. It was their habit, it was they only way these men could fish.

They didn't catch anything, but it wasn't because God was punishing them for giving up on Jesus. They didn't catch anything because God was waiting to give them a miraculous catch. God was waiting to mirror their original call to discipleship. God was waiting to assure Peter of his forgiveness.

So maybe they weren't just "Sitting on the dock of the bay, wasting time." Maybe they were in a lull in the midst of being faithful. Oh that I would take advantage of the time that God gives me in the midst of trying to be faithful.

the end?

Most scholars tend to agree that the 21st chapter of John is an epilogue, added later. They argue over when it was added and by who, but I'm not really interested in that piece of the debate. What I care about is why it was added. Why, after the nice, tidy finish of Jesus appearing in the upper room, breathing the Spirit, sending his disciples, reappearing for Thomas' sake, and then John's closing editor's note, does John (or pseudo-John, honestly who cares) then choose to reopen the story?

It reminds me of sitting in a movie theater, seeing the credits begin to roll and saying, "you know what, I'm not leaving yet, something else is coming." And sometimes it does. The best scene in 40 year old virgin is the Age of Aquarius song and dance routine.

John closes the scene and his book at the end of John 20 and then reopens it after a brief pause to say, "And you know what? They didn't get it."

Jesus appeared to them twice. They saw him. They touched him. They heard his commissioning words. The smelled his stinky breath. And then they waited. We don't know how long they waited, though it couldn't have been more than 50 days. And when it didn't seem like he was coming back a third time, they gave up, headed to Galilee and returned to their old lives.

And so the book gets reopened. Jesus comes back for an encore appearance, and this time, does whatever is necessary to get his boys off their butts and into his service. For most of them, it was the chance to be a part of another miraculous catch. For Peter, it was a return to the courtyard, charcoal fire and all, and the chance to say, "I do love you." For the Disciple Jesus Loved (a piece we don't get in the Lectionary) it was the knowledge that he'd be around for a good long while.

And, then, it seems, they got it. So John closes the book again. This time for good.

Today I give thanks that God reopens books and adds chapters of hope and restoration. I give thanks for encore appearances and words and signs that get us moving. I give thanks for second (third, fourth,...) chances.