One can not spend a week reading and thinking about Matthew's version of the Transfiguration without taking at least a moment to ponder ol' Peter. We all know Peter(s). They can't deal with silence. They have to sound wise. They jump at the chance to talk. We all know Peter(s).
This is perhaps the quintessential Peter moment; he's dumbfounded, but can't keep quiet. "Der, Um, Well, it is good for us to be here... how 'bout I build some houses... um... yea."
As obnoxious as the Peters of the world are; in this particular instance, he has a point. Meeting the holy is something that we a) can never be fully prepared for and b) can never really hope to understand. Jesus took him and a couple of other guys up a hill and BAM he glows and gets enshrouded by a cloud with Moses and Elijah standing next to him (how'd they know it was them anyway?).
How often have we found ourselves walking along when BAM God shows up. Pounding nails in a Habitat house or sitting in a hospital waiting room with a friend or praying or pumping gas; the Holy comes out of nowhere leaving us as dumbfounded as Peter. And what can our reaction be but, "it is good that I am here! And, how can I make this last longer?"
Sure, Peter never shuts up, but in this case, I think he has something to teach us.
January 31, 2008
January 30, 2008
cleverly devised myths
A buddy of mine from seminary is a magician. I never saw him saw somebody in half, but dang if he can't do a mean card trick... how did he set my watch to the hour of the card I had picked... Anyway, I've often given thought to the magic and myth of religion and the power it has over and above the truth of the Gospel of Jesus.
Peter's letter seems to ponder the same point. How much of the dreadfully long debates of seminary were working out cleverly devised myths? How much of the same was actually helping us to come to understand the Good News of God in Jesus Christ?
It is something I am working through especially these days as I come to grips with having "magic hands" anointed as they were at my ordination that allows me now to pronounce blessing, pronounce absolution, and celebrate the sacrament of Holy Eucharist. We joke in our house that the laser beams installed at the service are dangerous, but really it is a dangerous thing. Balancing the myth and magic with the reality of the meaning of those actions will take a long time I think.
Still, I hope to approach the faith life as Peter does, not with cleverly devised myths, but with the Spirit of Christ Jesus.
Peter's letter seems to ponder the same point. How much of the dreadfully long debates of seminary were working out cleverly devised myths? How much of the same was actually helping us to come to understand the Good News of God in Jesus Christ?
It is something I am working through especially these days as I come to grips with having "magic hands" anointed as they were at my ordination that allows me now to pronounce blessing, pronounce absolution, and celebrate the sacrament of Holy Eucharist. We joke in our house that the laser beams installed at the service are dangerous, but really it is a dangerous thing. Balancing the myth and magic with the reality of the meaning of those actions will take a long time I think.
Still, I hope to approach the faith life as Peter does, not with cleverly devised myths, but with the Spirit of Christ Jesus.
January 29, 2008
The Mountaintop
For those of you who may not have heard, I was ordained to the priesthood on Thursday evening. The service was spectacular, even with a sung Eucharistic Prayer; I couldn't have scripted it better. SHW and I returned from PA last night and I'm back in the office for the foreseeable future. It is fortuitous that the readings for the Last Sunday in Epiphany speak directly to my life right now. Like Moses, Joshua, Jesus, Peter, James, and John, I have found the mountaintop. Kneeling before the bishop until my knees hurt comes second only to my final goodbye to the kids at St. Thomas for spiritual mountaintop moments. I met God face-to-face again on Thursday night, and though I don't believe there was any sort of ontological change, that is to say my DNA has not been altered, I was, for a while, sitting high atop that mountain.
And like Moses, Joshua, Jesus, Peter, James, and John, I too was forced to leave the mountain. I had to return down the path and find myself once again in the plain; I'm not in the valley quite yet. See, for me, the mountaintop is a bitter sweet place. It is sweet because it is as high as we can go in this life. It is bitter because it is as high as we can go in this life. I come to terms with my humanity on the mountaintop. I'm still a sinner; God comes down to me.
I think most of us have had similar experiences. Be it the top of an anthill or a mountain we have all gone up only to realize that we must go back down. For some the thought of having to return is too much so that they never venture up. Others work hard to stay up as long as they can, to no avail. Those who seem to get it right however are like Jesus; they go up, they get empowered, and they return ready to do the work to which they have been called; even if that means not revealing just how great the mountaintop was; if for a moment.
And like Moses, Joshua, Jesus, Peter, James, and John, I too was forced to leave the mountain. I had to return down the path and find myself once again in the plain; I'm not in the valley quite yet. See, for me, the mountaintop is a bitter sweet place. It is sweet because it is as high as we can go in this life. It is bitter because it is as high as we can go in this life. I come to terms with my humanity on the mountaintop. I'm still a sinner; God comes down to me.
I think most of us have had similar experiences. Be it the top of an anthill or a mountain we have all gone up only to realize that we must go back down. For some the thought of having to return is too much so that they never venture up. Others work hard to stay up as long as they can, to no avail. Those who seem to get it right however are like Jesus; they go up, they get empowered, and they return ready to do the work to which they have been called; even if that means not revealing just how great the mountaintop was; if for a moment.
January 24, 2008
Guest Post - You Have Been Called
I feel that I need to explain that I have 3 baptisms this Sunday and so my reflections on this week’s readings are filtered through that lens.
I am first struck by the reading from Matthew – it is almost 2 separate passages and reflects 3 of the themes from Matthew – Jesus as the fulfillment of the promises made in the OT, the communal nature of his ministry, and his mission focus. I seem to be caught up in the idea of community and how that affects our mission to the world. As we baptize these three children into the Body of Christ, I’m wondering what that means for them, what that means for the Church, and what that means for the world. For Christians, Church ought to be our community in which we learn how to be disciples. When it works well it is a place where we learn (or remember) how to pray, to laugh, work and share. It ought to be where we learn our story and how to participate in the ongoing chapters of our story, and it ought to be where we share a world view different than that of our society or culture. Church is where we ought to receive our sustenance to travel down our road that is not necessarily culturally “correct,” a place where we find companions for our journey – where we hold up one another during times of doubt, pain, and joy. Somewhere this week I read a comparison of the church to Noah’s ark and I really like that image of being safely – albeit roughly at times – carried through chaos.
Jonathan Marlowe on Theolog, the blog site of the Christian Century, reminded me of Rowan Williams remark that when we get to heaven, God will not ask us why we weren’t more like one of the saints, but God will ask us why we weren’t more fully ourselves. Living into who we were meant to be is risky and scary business. But it is not a journey we ought to have to take alone, and it ought, also, to be one that is full of the same kind of excitement, thrill, and joy that any adventure is.
Jesus sought out the four who are called in this reading. The fishermen followed Jesus because they were looking for more – they wanted a larger story than daily fishing. We come to church – we follow Jesus – because we, too, are looking for more. And yet….we fight the urge to change – the call to do our lives differently, but it is what we truly desire – to be so awakened that we know we must live our lives differently. We are looking to be reborn. We want to be brave enough to leave our old lives and take up the new. We want to be energized, excited, sure, overwhelmed, secure, loved enough to dare to follow Jesus – to be our own truest selves. What if Jesus were to come to each of us and call us to follow him – call us by our names?
That is what the church, in the name of Jesus, does at our baptism. And yet I am reminded of a book entitled Mighty Stories, Powerful Rituals. Do we still think of our stories as mighty? Do we still find our rituals powerful?
I am first struck by the reading from Matthew – it is almost 2 separate passages and reflects 3 of the themes from Matthew – Jesus as the fulfillment of the promises made in the OT, the communal nature of his ministry, and his mission focus. I seem to be caught up in the idea of community and how that affects our mission to the world. As we baptize these three children into the Body of Christ, I’m wondering what that means for them, what that means for the Church, and what that means for the world. For Christians, Church ought to be our community in which we learn how to be disciples. When it works well it is a place where we learn (or remember) how to pray, to laugh, work and share. It ought to be where we learn our story and how to participate in the ongoing chapters of our story, and it ought to be where we share a world view different than that of our society or culture. Church is where we ought to receive our sustenance to travel down our road that is not necessarily culturally “correct,” a place where we find companions for our journey – where we hold up one another during times of doubt, pain, and joy. Somewhere this week I read a comparison of the church to Noah’s ark and I really like that image of being safely – albeit roughly at times – carried through chaos.
Jonathan Marlowe on Theolog, the blog site of the Christian Century, reminded me of Rowan Williams remark that when we get to heaven, God will not ask us why we weren’t more like one of the saints, but God will ask us why we weren’t more fully ourselves. Living into who we were meant to be is risky and scary business. But it is not a journey we ought to have to take alone, and it ought, also, to be one that is full of the same kind of excitement, thrill, and joy that any adventure is.
Jesus sought out the four who are called in this reading. The fishermen followed Jesus because they were looking for more – they wanted a larger story than daily fishing. We come to church – we follow Jesus – because we, too, are looking for more. And yet….we fight the urge to change – the call to do our lives differently, but it is what we truly desire – to be so awakened that we know we must live our lives differently. We are looking to be reborn. We want to be brave enough to leave our old lives and take up the new. We want to be energized, excited, sure, overwhelmed, secure, loved enough to dare to follow Jesus – to be our own truest selves. What if Jesus were to come to each of us and call us to follow him – call us by our names?
That is what the church, in the name of Jesus, does at our baptism. And yet I am reminded of a book entitled Mighty Stories, Powerful Rituals. Do we still think of our stories as mighty? Do we still find our rituals powerful?
January 17, 2008
Guest Post - Here is the Lamb of God
A huge thank you to my dear friend Candyce for guest posting a couple of times over the next several days. With diocesan requirements and ordination in a week, I'm feeling swamped. She has been so kind as to offer some reflections that will add a great voice to this blog. Enjoy her work.
“Here is the Lamb of God” – spoken not once, but twice in this reading from John. It’s easiest for me to read over this – I’ve heard it most of my life – Jesus is the Lamb of God, but what does it mean to us and what did it mean to John and to the people of 1st Century Israel?
I need to put in a disclaimer here. I am reading N.T. Wright’s Simply Christian on the recommendation of Phall (and I thank him immensely). The book has me thinking about how I put scripture into the context of God and the world. Also, I have just finished the first two parts of this 3 part book and so I may not have all the pieces of the puzzle just yet. But Wright talks about how we “see” the relationship between God/heaven and humanity/earth and gives us three options. The third is the one that Bishop Wright embraces and it sees that heaven and earth are separate, but have places where they meet and overlap. Early in our story, he says, we found this overlap in the Torah – the way we were to enact our part in the covenant. Later – after the rescue from Egypt – it was the Temple – the place that was built to house God when God came to earth. And finally – or the last that we know at this point in time – this union came in the form of Jesus Christ and – as we are baptized into the body of Christ – to us.
So now, how does the Lamb of God image fit into this picture?
We’ve all heard that Jesus was the first born, spotless lamb sacrificed for our sins – replacing the Passover lamb that saved the lives of the Jews in Egypt.
This idea of sacrifice has made me stop and think about what sacrifice may have meant – throughout Jewish history, at the time of Christ, and how it fits into our current ideas of God, church, and culture. According to The Westminster Dictionary of Christian Theology sacrifice has been part of religion from its beginnings and that there has never been one, unified concept of its efficacy. So if we look at sacrifice from the point of view of the intersection of heaven and earth, then no matter what its justification it was performed at those places and times when we were most trying to invite or experience that union of holy and secular. Christ, as the Lamb of God, I believe then, could be just that intersection. Who would not follow the one who was the union of heaven and earth?
What an invitation that is!! It was a remarkable invitation to those in Jesus’ time – Andrew and the unnamed disciples in Sunday’s reading, but it is also an amazing invitation to each one of us. Do we think of our relationship with God through Jesus as just such a union? Do we realize that we’ve been linked to this union in our baptism? Do we live out such intimacy?
January 16, 2008
the ends of the earth
"And now the LORD says... 'It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.'"
My daily struggle is balancing the call to serve the good people of St. Paul's, Foley and the call to serve the good people of Foley. I fear that the balance is impossible to find. I love this church. I love the people in this church, but I know that preaching to the choir and tending to the 99 is not what Jesus calls us to. I know that somehow, someway I need to be in the community helping the poor, the needy, the widowed, the orphaned. I know that somehow, someway I need to be in the world sharing the good news of God in Jesus Christ with those who have not heard, those who have heard and have not believed, and those who have heard and had at one time believed. But it is hard to get there. Sermons, teachings, bulletins, pastoral visits, administration, etc., etc. means that most of my time is spent "restoring the survivors of Israel." Now, a part of that is equipping the good people of St. Paul's, Foley to "reach the ends of the earth," but I, myself, have got to do that work too.
That seems to be the call for me today. As I approach my ordination to the priesthood it will be easy to forget my ordination to the diaconate. It will be easy to get comfortable in my office dealing with people I know. I know, however, that "it is too light a thing" to be called to serve only those who already have heard and believed. I know that my call is much larger than that. I know that the vision of St. Paul's, Foley is larger than that. I guess I just needed Isaiah's reminder of that today.
My daily struggle is balancing the call to serve the good people of St. Paul's, Foley and the call to serve the good people of Foley. I fear that the balance is impossible to find. I love this church. I love the people in this church, but I know that preaching to the choir and tending to the 99 is not what Jesus calls us to. I know that somehow, someway I need to be in the community helping the poor, the needy, the widowed, the orphaned. I know that somehow, someway I need to be in the world sharing the good news of God in Jesus Christ with those who have not heard, those who have heard and have not believed, and those who have heard and had at one time believed. But it is hard to get there. Sermons, teachings, bulletins, pastoral visits, administration, etc., etc. means that most of my time is spent "restoring the survivors of Israel." Now, a part of that is equipping the good people of St. Paul's, Foley to "reach the ends of the earth," but I, myself, have got to do that work too.
That seems to be the call for me today. As I approach my ordination to the priesthood it will be easy to forget my ordination to the diaconate. It will be easy to get comfortable in my office dealing with people I know. I know, however, that "it is too light a thing" to be called to serve only those who already have heard and believed. I know that my call is much larger than that. I know that the vision of St. Paul's, Foley is larger than that. I guess I just needed Isaiah's reminder of that today.
Sermon for the Baptism of our Lord
As I approach the end of a six year adventure toward being ordained a priest, I can’t help but look back over the time Cassie and I have spent on this journey. To say the least, the ordination process is full of hoops and puzzles. One of the earliest steps is a psychiatric evaluation. That was a lot of fun; eight hours with a psychiatrist and his post-doc assistant doing all sorts of tests. Ink blots, personality profiles, loaded conversations, on and on; all to make sure I was just crazy enough to pursue ordination. In the midst of this 8-hour marathon I was put in a very awkward position; as I stared at a computer screen taking yet another personality profile in hour number five, an interesting question appeared before me, “Have you ever heard voices?”
“Hmmmm,” I thought, “This raises a bit of an issue. If I say ‘yes’ I’ll be deemed crazy. If I say ‘no’ I’d be lying; since I heard a clear and distinct voice telling me that business was not where my gifts would be best utilized.” I had to spend some time thinking about it before I pressed the y key. That question still gives me pause, how, as Christians who believe that God continues to reveal himself by spoken word, do we toe the line of social science which, for the most part, associates the hearing of voices with various mental illnesses? As Doctor House put it on Fox a couple of seasons ago, “If you talk to God, you’re religious. If God talks to you, you’re crazy.” It is a question that is relevant for us in all four of our readings for today.
First, Isaiah, like all of Israel’s prophets, acts as a conduit for God. He has heard God’s voice and been called to share that Word with the rest of Israel. Secondly, The Psalmist has heard the voice of the Lord and in the Psalm for today takes the time to proclaim the majesty of that voice. Thirdly, Peter is at the house of Cornelius because both men had plainly heard the voice of God in the middle of the day. Finally, John the Baptist experiences the fullness of the Trinity while hearing the voice of God in two distinct persons in just four verses. First, he hears Jesus, God the Son, speaking to him; man to man. Secondly, he hears the voice of God the Father coming from heaven, affirming Jesus as the Son.
For the most part, we mainliners get nervous when talk turns to the voice of God speaking directly to us, but it is clear from our lessons today that hearing the voice of God was important, is important, and will continue to be important for those who strive to follow God. It is important, but it sure is scary. Hearing the voice of God is not something we take lightly. Listen again to the Psalmist, “The voice of the LORD is a powerful voice; * the voice of the LORD is a voice of splendor. The voice of the LORD breaks the cedar trees; * the LORD breaks the cedars of Lebanon; He makes Lebanon skip like a calf, * and Mount Hermon like a young wild ox. The voice of the LORD splits the flames of fire; the voice of the LORD shakes the wilderness; * the LORD shakes the wilderness of Kadesh. The voice of the LORD makes the oak trees writhe * and strips the forests bare.” It is clear that we are rightfully afraid of the voice of God. Couldn’t each of us add to this Psalm? “The voice of the LORD makes us move to South Alabama.” “The voice of the LORD calls us to minister to prisoners.” “The voice of the LORD calls us to bounce between a biker meeting and Draughting Theology.” “The voice of the LORD calls us to pray without ceasing.” And on and on. When we hear the voice of the LORD in our lives we can be sure we aren’t being called to easy street. No, instead our lives will be turned upside down so that we too might take part in the “fulfillment of all righteousness.”
It is also clear in all four readings that this fulfillment of all righteousness, this setting the upside down world right side up didn’t begin when Jesus was born in Bethlehem and it didn’t end when he died on a cross at Calvary. It is the whole of the story of salvation; from God’s Word spoken at Creation to Jesus’ triumphant return to usher in a new Creation. It was the work of Noah. It was the work of Abraham and Sarah. It was the work of Isaiah and all the prophets. It was the work of John the Baptist and of Peter and of Martin Luther and his namesake Martin Luther King, Jr. And it is the work of you and me. We are called to listen for the voice of the Lord so that we might fulfill our role in the larger story of God’s righteousness.
Where will we find the voice of the Lord? For some, it will be audible. It will make it hard to answer that question poised to me during my psychiatric evaluation. For others, it will be in relationships. Spouses, coworkers, friends, acquaintances; God has been known to speak through them all. Still others will find the voice speaking directly to them in Scripture; as the Bible, the Word, remains alive and continuously reveals the will of God. The voice of the Lord can be found in many, many places.
When we hear what we think is the voice of the Lord, we are then called to test it; to make sure. We get two lessons for this work of discernment from our Gospel lesson; in some cases we can rely on our history with God while in others we will need to turn to the Word of God as it is revealed for us in the Scriptures. John and Jesus seem to have a pretty good relationship; we get the sense that they have hung out at family gatherings over that past 30 or so years. John who while in his mother’s womb knew that Jesus as someone special must have honed that feeling over the years; he knew when Jesus was speaking Truth to him. He could trust his gut. And so when Jesus comes to him asking to be baptized John needs to ask only one question, “Are you sure?” The feeling is there, but he wants to make sure it is accurate. Jesus responds, “let it be so for now…” John knows this is Truth; it will fulfill all righteousness to do this; it will help to set things right even if it makes no sense in the here and now. John knows because of a longstanding personal relationship with Jesus. He can tell by the way Jesus says it. He can see it in Jesus’ body language. He can feel it in his gut. Over time we too can learn how to discern based on our relationship with the one who speaks. As we grow in faith it becomes clear to us based on our gut feeling, based on the tone of voice God is using, based on the body language of family and friends as they speak Truth to us. But getting there takes a long time. That is not where we begin and is not the norm.
Where our discernment starts is in the one place we can be sure that the Word we will hear is of God, in the Scriptures. The Bible, a set of texts honed over centuries, put into writing by those who knew God well, is where our discernment begins. Our test of whether or not our word will “fulfill all righteousness” is to see whether or not it is in accordance with the Word, the continuous revelation of God through the scriptures. If all else fails us, the Bible will not. If our heart and our mind lead us astray, the Spirit can refresh us anew in the reading of the scriptures. This is where our discernment begins. This is where we first test the voice we hear. This is where we bring the Word we receive from family, friend, neighbor, pastor. This is where we hone our skills so that later, in due time, it is the comfort of our relationship with this same living Word that will make us sure.
The voice of the Lord is dangerous. There is no question as to why we associate hearing voices with mental illness; the voice of the Lord calls us to do some crazy things. Ultimately, however, that same voice is leading to the restoration of all things. When we follow the voice of the Lord we have the honor of joining with God in the work of putting the world back in order. What a blessing. What a gift. What a responsibility. Listen carefully. Test accordingly. Join in on the crazy work that God is doing. Amen.
January 15, 2008
a great combo
Kudos to the Lectionary types who made for a really long gospel lesson by choosing John 1.29-42. It gives a great opportunity to teach on what was going on with Israel as a people at the time of Jbap and Jesus. Tom Wright does a great job in his Matthew for Everyone for last weeks readings explaining just how radical it was the Jbap was baptizing Jews for the forgiveness of sins. See as God's chosen people it had long been assumed that sinners were "them, not us." So we see in John's baptism for the first time the Nation of Israel admitting that they needed something other than the promises to Abraham and the law of Moses to be in right relationship with God.
So that is huge.
Then we get the story of Andrew and his buddy and Simon Peter who, having been a part of this new fangled form of Judaism that was admitting its need to repent are now ready for what is next. And was is next? Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed, God's chosen. They run for that horizon. It is so cool to see that play out.
So that too is huge.
And it really speaks to me as I sit in 21st century America, a nation that is "spiritual but not religious" and see people daily who are looking for what lies beyond that horizon. They are longing to find out what is next for them on their spiritual journey. Our job, is to be then like Jbap and point people to Jesus. "See him, he's next. I know he's sorta old too, but he's also next. A new way of encountering him that isn't tied to hierarchy and rules and dresses and church buildings and bishops and all that other stuff - that Jesus is on the horizon!" And Jesus, faithful as he is, is waiting and offering us to "come and see."
So that is huge.
Then we get the story of Andrew and his buddy and Simon Peter who, having been a part of this new fangled form of Judaism that was admitting its need to repent are now ready for what is next. And was is next? Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed, God's chosen. They run for that horizon. It is so cool to see that play out.
So that too is huge.
And it really speaks to me as I sit in 21st century America, a nation that is "spiritual but not religious" and see people daily who are looking for what lies beyond that horizon. They are longing to find out what is next for them on their spiritual journey. Our job, is to be then like Jbap and point people to Jesus. "See him, he's next. I know he's sorta old too, but he's also next. A new way of encountering him that isn't tied to hierarchy and rules and dresses and church buildings and bishops and all that other stuff - that Jesus is on the horizon!" And Jesus, faithful as he is, is waiting and offering us to "come and see."
Readings for Epiphany 2, Year A, RCL
Sorry it has been so long since I posted. Things are hectic, but I'm working hard to get back to it. The readings for Epiphany 2 are here... stay tuned.
December 31, 2007
boldness and confidence
"Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have access to God in boldness and confidence through faith in him."
There is a word from Paul with some serious teeth. I have spent most of Christmastide dealing with what it means that 1) God moved into the neighborhood and 2) the Incarnation makes God comprehensible. Paul deals with both nicely.
That God came to earth In Flesh and spent time here; considerable time here, means that all have access to God. God broke down the barriers that the religious establishment had set up by dwelling with us. He tore the curtain of the holy of holies and became a common man. Through Jesus Christ we have been given unprecedented access to God.
That we have access to God does not mean that the danger of holiness has been removed. Rather, to approach God, to claim our rightful access, means to approach God with boldness and confidence. We are bold to assume that God desires a relationship with us; God needs nothing from us. We must draw on confidence to come before God, sin and all, hopeful that he will not utterly destroy us.
The Incarnation is a messy thing. It makes simple theology necessarily systematic. What does it mean that God walked the earth In Flesh? What does it mean that regular people, sinful people, interacted with God one-on-one? What does it mean to be given access to God? What does it mean to be bold and full of confidence as we approach his countenance?
Major feasts always get me back in seminary mode. I want to write papers on this stuff. But my call is to preach it with boldness and confidence. Should be an interesting week of reflection.
There is a word from Paul with some serious teeth. I have spent most of Christmastide dealing with what it means that 1) God moved into the neighborhood and 2) the Incarnation makes God comprehensible. Paul deals with both nicely.
That God came to earth In Flesh and spent time here; considerable time here, means that all have access to God. God broke down the barriers that the religious establishment had set up by dwelling with us. He tore the curtain of the holy of holies and became a common man. Through Jesus Christ we have been given unprecedented access to God.
That we have access to God does not mean that the danger of holiness has been removed. Rather, to approach God, to claim our rightful access, means to approach God with boldness and confidence. We are bold to assume that God desires a relationship with us; God needs nothing from us. We must draw on confidence to come before God, sin and all, hopeful that he will not utterly destroy us.
The Incarnation is a messy thing. It makes simple theology necessarily systematic. What does it mean that God walked the earth In Flesh? What does it mean that regular people, sinful people, interacted with God one-on-one? What does it mean to be given access to God? What does it mean to be bold and full of confidence as we approach his countenance?
Major feasts always get me back in seminary mode. I want to write papers on this stuff. But my call is to preach it with boldness and confidence. Should be an interesting week of reflection.
Sermon for 1 Christmas, A,
I sorta joked with you at Christmas about how soft and cuddly God is for us when we picture the baby Jesus lying in a manger. If you recall, I noted that, for me, there is nothing wrong with having as our primary image of God, Jesus as a tiny infant. Luke’s Nativity story gives us a wonderful insight into the Incarnation. This morning, however, we get a whole different way to view the Incarnation; God becoming flesh. In 18 verses John takes us on a philosophical trek from Creation to Incarnation. Now, it would be really easy to get bogged down in the philosophical trek part of this. We could sit and ponder John’s use of words that would carry weight with both Greek scholars in Athens, Roman philosophers in Alexandria and Jewish minds in Jerusalem. Then we could have fun with it by bringing the concepts forward 2000 years and comparing John’s intentional use of language with postmodern philosophy’s in depth study of the impact a name has on an entity. I found a 218 page book on Amazon called Incarnate Word, Inscribed Flesh: John’s Prologue and the Postmodern. It would be such a delight if we were in a seminary classroom, but I feel y’all might run me out of Foley after a three hour lecture.
So instead, I propose we deal with the second task of John; taking his readers from Creation to Incarnation. We all know very well that God is hard to get our minds around. Be it the concept of God or the person to whom we offer prayer and praise, God is beyond our comprehension. Perhaps that is why John decides to begin this trip at the beginning, or more accurately before the beginning. John dives right into his account of the Good News of Jesus Christ by placing us with the Trinity before Creation. We get a glimpse into that difficult world called theology as we try to think about what it means that “In the beginning WAS the Word.” Not “In the beginning the Word began,” but “In the beginning WAS the Word.” John is letting us know that we are not dealing with something that was created, but rather the Creator. Before time and space and matter and life existed, before the beginning the Creator was. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit; three-in-one; in perfect harmony with one another, are hanging out before the beginning.
John then proceeds to take us on the journey; the culmination of which comes in verse 14, “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” From the Trinity in perfect harmony to the Word spoken at Creation to the prophecy of John the Baptist all was pointing to one final event; the Word becoming Flesh. But not just the Word becoming Flesh for a minute or two to fix a couple of small issues with Creation. The Word became Flesh and made his dwelling among us. The Word became Flesh in the person of Jesus of Nazareth and set his tent up alongside us.
There is the moment of grace for us. God dwelt among us. See 2000 years removed from Jesus walking on earth it is easy for us to miss how huge that is; that God walked among humans. But for Jew, Greek, and Roman alike this was more than huge; it was universe altering. For the Jew, Greek, and Roman the divine made their home in the Temple. Be it the Tabernacle the Jews carried in the wilderness or the Parthenon of Athena for the Greeks – the divine were considered too holy and thus too dangerous to be in the realm of normal human beings. It was the job of the priests and priestesses to interact with the divine. And so, for John’s audience the concept that God would make his tent alongside us is a major deviation from theology as usual.
This change that marks the beginning of John’s gospel is the crux of John’s theology. That the Word was made to be In Fleshed means that the light of God came into a world considered to be dark and the darkness could not overcome it. Though it may have looked like darkness won when the light of life was snuffed out upon the cross, John knows, and wants his readers and us to know, that the story does not end there. God making his tent alongside us means that holiness, while still dangerous, is not as dangerous as once thought. The divine has been made available to all. God In Flesh did not destroy Creation and Creation did not destroy God In Flesh. What wonderful news John has to share with his readers and still today with us – God; who from before time was; entered the world with grace and truth, to make us all children of God; not just Caesar, not just the priests and priestesses, not just the Pharisees, but everyone could come to be an heir of the light of life through The Word In Flesh.
The Prologue to John’s gospel is beautiful. It is poetry without rival, but like poetry, for me, it is scary. It is so deep with meaning and nuance that I fear constantly I am missing a huge chunk of what is being said. It is philosophy that spoke to the greatest minds of John’s time. It is so over-my-head that I know I am just scratching the surface of what John’s message was and is. Ultimately, however whether poetry or philosophy, the Prologue to John’s gospel is good news of great joy. Verse 18 sums it up for us best, “No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father's side, has made him known.”
He setup camp alongside us. He walked among us as a light to the world. And he made God known. He made God accessible to us all. He removed the barriers that humanity had set up and made the darkness bright. And, “From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another.” Thanks be to God! Amen. Amen.
December 29, 2007
Ricky Bobby Preaches Christmas Eve
I love Christmas. The fact that the Episcopal Church observes the season of Advent prior to Christmas is probably the toughest part of ordained life for me. As a kid, and even now, my house has been decorated for Christmas as close to the day after Thanksgiving as possible. I love seeing trees all lit up; even Palm Trees. I love clay-mation movies from the 1960s. I love Christmas carols. I love the smile you see on faces as the “Merry Christmas” wishes are exchanged. And, like most of us, I love the image of God entering the world as a baby, wrapped in bands of cloth, lying in a manger.
It is tough for me to slog through Advent. Singing Advent Carols instead of Christmas Carols. Waiting not just for Christmas, but for Jesus’ return to earth with power and great glory. Advent, is, no doubt, an important time of waiting, but for me, Christmas can’t come soon enough. And tonight, it is finally here. On the Eve of the Eve of Jesus’ Nativity at least part of our waiting is over. Jesus Christ is born this night, a Merry Christmas indeed.
Luke does a wonderful job of telling this story. We get a full detail of how it is that Joseph and his pregnant, virgin, bride-to-be, Mary, get from Nazareth to Bethlehem. We find them set up in a quaint Nativity scene, as if Luke knew that one day our knick-knack shelves would hold a display of his story. We see the baby Jesus, in perhaps his most famous role, a newborn infant, wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger. This portrait of baby Jesus and the one 30 some years later, hanging on the cross, define, for most of us, our image of Jesus. And it is the first image, the one we celebrate this evening that is most assuredly preferable. It is a lot easier to picture Jesus lying silently in the manger. It feels a lot safer. It makes our God a lot more cuddly.
In the movie, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, we see, in popular culture, what this image of Jesus offers us.
As the Bobby family sits down to dinner, Ricky offers a prayer, “Dear Lord baby Jesus, or as our brothers to the south call you, Jesus, we thank you so much for this bountiful harvest of Dominos, KFC, and the always delicious Taco Bell… Dear Lord baby Jesus, we also want to thank you for my wife’s father, Chip, we hope that you can use your baby Jesus powers to heal him and his horrible leg… Dear tiny, infant Jesus…”
When challenged with the fact that Jesus did grow up, Ricky responds, “I like the Christmas Jesus best and I’m saying grace. When you say grace you can say it to grown-up Jesus, or teen-age Jesus, or bearded Jesus, whoever you want…” He folds his hands and bows his head, “Dear tiny Jesus, in your Golden Fleece diapers with your tiny balled up first…”
Again, Ricky is challenged, “He was a man, he had a beard!”
Ricky finishes his prayer, “Dear 8 pound 6 ounce, newborn infant Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent. We just thank you for all the races I’ve won… thank you for all your power and your grace dear baby God, Amen.”[1]
It is very strange to hear it out loud, but I think that this is often the way we pray. “Dear tiny infant Jesus” is a pleasant way to picture our God. And, you know, I don’t think there is anything wrong with that image of Jesus. It is part of what makes Christmas so special. God came to earth to put his creation back together not by appearing magically out of thin air, but through the natural means by which a human being comes it this world. God entered the world just as helpless as the rest of us. He arrived as “dear tiny infant Jesus”; fully God and fully human. But, unlike Ricky, we can’t stop there. God’s coming into the world was much larger than a Nativity scene on a knick-knack shelf.
Which brings me to the theological reason why I love Christmas; because it is the day that we celebrate what I believe to be the key to God’s restoring of relationship; the Incarnation. Incarnation is a fancy church word, and for that I’m sorry, but I’ll break it down. It is created by combining two Latin words. The first, y’all know well, “in” which means, well, in. The second is “carnis” which means flesh. In – Flesh. Theologically, it is the understanding that God became human in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. The Incarnation means that God was one of us. It means that as Jesus experienced desires, temptations, frustrations, joys; all of the messiness of life as a human being it became a part of God – as Jesus experienced them, so too did God. Jesus being “in flesh” means that the gap between God and humanity was bridged; our relationship was restored. God, having now felt what it is like to be a human, to have will that is prone to messing up, knows more fully what it means when we come to him with all of our joys and all of our sorrows. God was “in flesh” on earth! This is the good news of Christmas; God was intervening radically to restore our relationship; not just as a helpless baby, but throughout the life of experiences of teenage Jesus and grown up bearded Jesus.
Not only does God experience what it is to be human, but we have a chance to see how God would have us live. The other side of the Incarnation coin is that God is made comprehensible by being “in flesh.” In the full life of Jesus we see a life lived fully in accordance with God’s will. From Jesus’ first cry as an infant to his final gasp for breath on the cross, we get in the life of Jesus a life lived in perfect harmony with God. And, to be honest, we see that it isn’t all that demanding. It begins with a life lived modeling tiny-infant-Jesus; looking up with wide-eyed awe at the splendor of God’s creation; recognizing our full dependence on him for all things. As we grow in faith, we become more like teenage Jesus, getting to know God through Worship and the Word. And then, as we mature, the model becomes grown-up-bearded Jesus. His life was one of service to the poor, outcast, sick, widowed, and orphaned. It was a life lived sharing the good news of God’s divine justice with the oppressed, the sad, and the lonely. It is a full life; from birth to death; a life lived from Sunday to Saturday – week after week after week.
The incarnation is all about God’s love for us overflowing. It is about God coming “in flesh” to show us how to live in response to that great love. As we gather this night to celebrate the Incarnation in the Nativity of tiny-infant Jesus we take that first step. Hopefully, it is the beginning of another year, growing in faith with this remembrance of Jesus’ birth. As we leave to our parties and to await Santa’s arrival, we enter the world refreshed and renewed; ready to live another year in the model of the life of God “in flesh”. We prepare ourselves for another try at living in full harmony with the will of God. But we go, not filled with our own abilities, but instead empowered by the Holy Spirit, glorifying and praising God for all that we have heard and seen; excited for what a life lived with Jesus has in store.
Thanks be to God for coming into the world as the newborn infant Jesus. Thanks be to God for his willingness to restore his creation by living as one of us. And thanks be to God for his perfect model of Kingdom living. May he fill us to overflowing for anther year of trying to live that life. Amen.
[1] From, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby¸2006. Written by Will Farrell and Adam McKay.
It is tough for me to slog through Advent. Singing Advent Carols instead of Christmas Carols. Waiting not just for Christmas, but for Jesus’ return to earth with power and great glory. Advent, is, no doubt, an important time of waiting, but for me, Christmas can’t come soon enough. And tonight, it is finally here. On the Eve of the Eve of Jesus’ Nativity at least part of our waiting is over. Jesus Christ is born this night, a Merry Christmas indeed.
Luke does a wonderful job of telling this story. We get a full detail of how it is that Joseph and his pregnant, virgin, bride-to-be, Mary, get from Nazareth to Bethlehem. We find them set up in a quaint Nativity scene, as if Luke knew that one day our knick-knack shelves would hold a display of his story. We see the baby Jesus, in perhaps his most famous role, a newborn infant, wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger. This portrait of baby Jesus and the one 30 some years later, hanging on the cross, define, for most of us, our image of Jesus. And it is the first image, the one we celebrate this evening that is most assuredly preferable. It is a lot easier to picture Jesus lying silently in the manger. It feels a lot safer. It makes our God a lot more cuddly.
In the movie, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, we see, in popular culture, what this image of Jesus offers us.
As the Bobby family sits down to dinner, Ricky offers a prayer, “Dear Lord baby Jesus, or as our brothers to the south call you, Jesus, we thank you so much for this bountiful harvest of Dominos, KFC, and the always delicious Taco Bell… Dear Lord baby Jesus, we also want to thank you for my wife’s father, Chip, we hope that you can use your baby Jesus powers to heal him and his horrible leg… Dear tiny, infant Jesus…”
When challenged with the fact that Jesus did grow up, Ricky responds, “I like the Christmas Jesus best and I’m saying grace. When you say grace you can say it to grown-up Jesus, or teen-age Jesus, or bearded Jesus, whoever you want…” He folds his hands and bows his head, “Dear tiny Jesus, in your Golden Fleece diapers with your tiny balled up first…”
Again, Ricky is challenged, “He was a man, he had a beard!”
Ricky finishes his prayer, “Dear 8 pound 6 ounce, newborn infant Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent. We just thank you for all the races I’ve won… thank you for all your power and your grace dear baby God, Amen.”[1]
It is very strange to hear it out loud, but I think that this is often the way we pray. “Dear tiny infant Jesus” is a pleasant way to picture our God. And, you know, I don’t think there is anything wrong with that image of Jesus. It is part of what makes Christmas so special. God came to earth to put his creation back together not by appearing magically out of thin air, but through the natural means by which a human being comes it this world. God entered the world just as helpless as the rest of us. He arrived as “dear tiny infant Jesus”; fully God and fully human. But, unlike Ricky, we can’t stop there. God’s coming into the world was much larger than a Nativity scene on a knick-knack shelf.
Which brings me to the theological reason why I love Christmas; because it is the day that we celebrate what I believe to be the key to God’s restoring of relationship; the Incarnation. Incarnation is a fancy church word, and for that I’m sorry, but I’ll break it down. It is created by combining two Latin words. The first, y’all know well, “in” which means, well, in. The second is “carnis” which means flesh. In – Flesh. Theologically, it is the understanding that God became human in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. The Incarnation means that God was one of us. It means that as Jesus experienced desires, temptations, frustrations, joys; all of the messiness of life as a human being it became a part of God – as Jesus experienced them, so too did God. Jesus being “in flesh” means that the gap between God and humanity was bridged; our relationship was restored. God, having now felt what it is like to be a human, to have will that is prone to messing up, knows more fully what it means when we come to him with all of our joys and all of our sorrows. God was “in flesh” on earth! This is the good news of Christmas; God was intervening radically to restore our relationship; not just as a helpless baby, but throughout the life of experiences of teenage Jesus and grown up bearded Jesus.
Not only does God experience what it is to be human, but we have a chance to see how God would have us live. The other side of the Incarnation coin is that God is made comprehensible by being “in flesh.” In the full life of Jesus we see a life lived fully in accordance with God’s will. From Jesus’ first cry as an infant to his final gasp for breath on the cross, we get in the life of Jesus a life lived in perfect harmony with God. And, to be honest, we see that it isn’t all that demanding. It begins with a life lived modeling tiny-infant-Jesus; looking up with wide-eyed awe at the splendor of God’s creation; recognizing our full dependence on him for all things. As we grow in faith, we become more like teenage Jesus, getting to know God through Worship and the Word. And then, as we mature, the model becomes grown-up-bearded Jesus. His life was one of service to the poor, outcast, sick, widowed, and orphaned. It was a life lived sharing the good news of God’s divine justice with the oppressed, the sad, and the lonely. It is a full life; from birth to death; a life lived from Sunday to Saturday – week after week after week.
The incarnation is all about God’s love for us overflowing. It is about God coming “in flesh” to show us how to live in response to that great love. As we gather this night to celebrate the Incarnation in the Nativity of tiny-infant Jesus we take that first step. Hopefully, it is the beginning of another year, growing in faith with this remembrance of Jesus’ birth. As we leave to our parties and to await Santa’s arrival, we enter the world refreshed and renewed; ready to live another year in the model of the life of God “in flesh”. We prepare ourselves for another try at living in full harmony with the will of God. But we go, not filled with our own abilities, but instead empowered by the Holy Spirit, glorifying and praising God for all that we have heard and seen; excited for what a life lived with Jesus has in store.
Thanks be to God for coming into the world as the newborn infant Jesus. Thanks be to God for his willingness to restore his creation by living as one of us. And thanks be to God for his perfect model of Kingdom living. May he fill us to overflowing for anther year of trying to live that life. Amen.
[1] From, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby¸2006. Written by Will Farrell and Adam McKay.
December 20, 2007
Sermon for Advent 3, Year A, RCL
I’d like us to take a moment this morning to think back. It being Rose Sunday we are called on by the church to take a moment in the midst of the waiting season of Advent to rejoice. So let’s do that, let’s rejoice. Think for a moment of your greatest faith experience. Maybe it was a Happening. Perhaps you found the Lord at Camp Beckwith as a child. Many of you sat on the mountain top during a Cursillo Weekend. For me, it was a mission trip to rural North Carolina, my last official act as youth minister at St. Thomas in Lancaster. Whatever it is, find that place, and just for a moment try to remember what it felt like to be so close to God. [Silence]
The mountaintop experiences of faith might be the most fantastic experiences possible in this life. To be that close to God and to feel his love that strongly is unlike anything we can feel in the flesh. And it is but a foretaste of what life in the Kingdom of God will be like. Mary’s Magnificat is a perfect example of a human’s response to God’s grace pouring out in abundance. Mary’s hymn of praise has given words to many who were caught speechless by their experience of God. And though her song expresses great joy, we know the pain that she, as the mother of our Lord, will experience as she stands at the foot of the cross helpless against the Roman regime.
See the mountain tops are great. And given our druthers we’d all love to live there forever, but it doesn’t happen. Life goes on, retreats end, mission groups return home, real life begins again. And while we are left with the memory of that time, like Mary, we know that we cannot hold onto it forever. John the Baptist had his fair share of mountain top experiences, even from before he entered this world. We are told that he leapt for joy within his mother’s womb as Mary arrived for a visit. He was given special knowledge as he was called as a prophet of the Most High to make straight a pathway for God. And, in what is perhaps the greatest mountain top experience in Christian history, as he baptized Jesus he heard the voice of God and saw the dove descend upon God’s anointed one, the Messiah, Christ the Lord.
But even John was not immune to what happens as we return to real life. Today we find John physically in prison; a dark and nasty place. We find John also spiritually in a dark and nasty place. Prisons in first century Palestine were not the place to go for three square meals a day. There were no services in prison. Family and friends were the source of food, clothing, and of course gossip. John had been hearing all sorts of stories about Jesus, and it seems as though the combination of his continued imprisonment and the stories of Jesus’ ministry in the sticks have lead John to doubt he got it right. “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?” John has moved deep into the valley. John had preached of a new world order. Things were going to be flipped upside down with the coming Messiah. The axe was at the base of the tree and furnace was plenty hot. God was going to enact his vengeance on those who did not follow his ways. And none of it was happening. Jesus wasn’t putting together an army to overthrow the Romans. He wasn’t seeking political clout by hanging out with the elite in Jerusalem. What Jesus did and what John expected were not matching up.
What about you? Is what God is doing matching up with what you expected him to? As you moved back into real life following those high points were you frustrated that the good feelings didn’t linger longer? Have you found it necessary to ask “Is this all?” Faith, even for all-stars like John the Baptist, isn’t perfect. There are times when holding onto faith is hard. There are times when we, like John, have to ask, “Did we get this right?”
And, praise God, he is just as willing to accept our questions as he is our adulation. Jesus doesn’t chastise John for being in a dark place. Instead, he answers with honesty and love John’s concerns. “Tell John what is going on here – the blind can see, the crippled can walk, the sick are healed, the deaf now hear, the dead are alive, and the poor are receiving good news!” John will have to make do as the rest of us; a second hand account of the miracles and the message of Jesus. He will have to hear from his disciples that Jesus is doing exactly what Jesus came to do, and it will have to be enough for him. In the midst of his doubt John will be confronted by the simple fact that Jesus is doing the work of God – even though it doesn’t look how John wants it to look.
We are confronted by the same simple fact – our hopes and dreams won’t define the kingdom of God. It will most likely look vastly different that what we expect to see. But it will be a place where God’s will is lived out at all times for eternity. Our mountain top experience will last forever one day, just have faith.
While Jesus doesn’t get upset with John’s question, he does finish his message with a kick in the butt, “Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me.” “Even with this comment, Jesus is being kind and compassionate with John. Jesus did not say, "Blessed is the one who never, ever has the slightest doubt about me!" Had he said something like that Jesus would have slammed John as well as anyone else who has ever harbored a doubt in the quiet recesses of his or her heart. But Jesus didn't chide John for having a hard time figuring everything out. Jesus did not deny that his ministry was surprisingly quiet even as it was happening in rather out-of-the-way locales.
The NIV translates Jesus' words in verse 6 as blessing the one "who does not fall away on account of me." Actually, the original word in the Greek is skandalizo, which means to be scandalized by Jesus. In Jesus' day a "scandal" was literally something you could trip over and so cause you to fall flat on your face. In order to enter God's kingdom you need to pass through Jesus. He is the door, the way, the gate that leads to life. So blessed are those who can pass through that door without tripping over the nature of Jesus' life and ministry. Blessed is anybody who can see Jesus for who he really is despite the fact that Jesus led no major political revolutions, made apparently no impact on the Caesar in his day. Blessed is anybody who can admit that Jesus really did get crossed out by the Romans while at the same time believing he is the resurrected Lord of life even yet today”[1]
We see today John the Baptist as he stumbles, but he does not fall. He, like many others, has miss-judged what God’s will for a redeemed world would look like. He has to ask the question, but knows what the answer will be. “Yes, Jesus is the one who was to come. No, you need not look for another. See, he has done great signs; God is at work in him. Listen, he proclaims God’s love to those who society says God could never love; God is turning things upside down. It is more subtle that we had hoped. It will take a lot longer that we want, but it will happen, just keep the faith.”
As we wait this Advent season, the message remains the same. 2000 years later we are still waiting for it to be finished, for God’s will to reign supreme on earth as it does in heaven, but it will come, just hang on, just keep the faith. For now, remember those moments when you got a glimpse of it; the blind can see, the crippled can walk, the sick are healed, the deaf now hear, the dead are alive, and the poor are receiving good news, and rejoice that those moments will someday last forever. Amen.
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