Sunday, June 17, 2007
Blueberry Festival, Saturday, July 14
Order your homemade blueberry pie today! The sign-up sheet is in Fellowship Hall, or call the parish office at 609-296-9618.
The Second Sunday after Pentecost, June 10, 2007
This morning we encounter two processions. One is going into the town of Nain and the other is coming out. Nain is a town in the South of Galilee, a short distance from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth.
At the head of the procession going into Nain is Jesus. The procession coming out is led by a coffin. What will happen when these two processions cross paths at the town gate? Which one will give way?
Jesus sees the grieving mother. What does He do? How does He respond? His heart went out to her. He feels compassion for her. He chose to share in her sorrow.
Moved by compassion, Jesus acts. "Young man, I say to you, get up!" he shouts. And the dead man sat up and began to talk. The compassion of Jesus led to something amazing happening, something unexpected. Death was trampled down by the Lord of Life.
This is our Christian hope. Through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot. Death has been swallowed up in victory. We no longer have to live in fear of death.
But, sometimes, we do anyway, don’t we? It's difficult not to fear death. I’m not just talking about physical death. We die many little deaths throughout our lives. Many of the changes we face feel much like a little death. We grieve the loss of the familiar. We long to relive days from our past.
But the reality is that if we are to continue to grow, we must accept these little deaths. We must allow ourselves to be transformed into the full stature of Christ. And for that to happen, we have to let go of some of the baggage that we are dragging around with us; those old grudges, those past regrets, and those character flaws. There are aspects of ourselves that we have to allow to die.
In our Epistle lesson, Paul speaks about his earlier life in Judaism; about how he was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. You may recall when St. Stephen was stoned to death, it was Saul, who later became Paul, who held the coats of the stone hurling crowd. When Paul encountered Christ on the road to Damascus, he was transformed. But that transformation required a little death as well; the zealous persecutor of the Church had to die.
Congregations have to pass through these little deaths as well, if they are to be transformed and follow the call of God. I was an interim priest for a few years. I would be assigned to serve in a congregation while they made their transition from one spiritual leader to another. Sometimes their former priest was the beloved rector. Sometimes he or she was not so beloved.
Regardless of the case, there was always some element of a grieving process going on in that congregation. Interims were expected to allow that process to happen, and attend to any pastoral needs that might result from it. It was only when the congregation faced that that particular chapter in their life was now over that they could begin to dream about the future. There had to be a little death before there could be room for new life.
Sometimes, we fear these little deaths so much, that we are a bit too cautious. We hesitate to do anything new or risky. What if we fail? What if there isn’t enough? What if we make a mistake? We stick to the familiar, to the comfortable, because we are afraid of dying.
Barbara Brown Taylor, an author and an Episcopal priest, recently wrote a thoughtful article in the Christian Century entitled, “The Poured-Out Church”. I want to share part of it with you:
…when I consider my life of faith, this world is clearly where my transformation has taken place. It is in the world that I have met the people who have changed me—some of them believers, but far more of them not—people who have loved me, fought me, shamed me, forgiven me, sanding down my edges on one side while they broke whole ragged chunks of me off the other. The world is where I have been struck dumb by beauty, by cruelty, by human invention and greed. The world is where my notions of God have been destroyed, reformed, chastened, redeemed. The world is where I have occasionally been good for something and where I have done irreparable harm.
The reason I know this, however, is that the church has given me the eyes with which I see, as well as the words with which I speak. The church has given me a community in which to figure out what has happened to me in the world. It has given me a place to love and grieve, within a tradition far older and wiser than I. It is the church that has poured me into the world, in other words—which is counterintuitive. How can a church survive that keeps pouring itself into the world? I cannot possibly say. All I know is the gospel truth: those willing to give everything away are the ones with anything worth keeping; those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives. Go figure...
“…those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives.” Can we look death full in the face? Are we willing to pour ourselves into the world? Will we risk much for the sake of the Gospel?
We can. And we will. Because we are Christians. Because we do not live in fear of death. Because we are those who proclaim the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I’m not suggesting we be foolish. There’s a difference between being bold and risking much and being foolish. We are certainly called to be good stewards of the gifts God has given us.
But we must always remember that our mission field is out there in the world. And to be effective witnesses for God, we must pour ourselves into the world, even if it seems risky; even if it seems deadly.
How do we know where to pour ourselves out? In this morning’s Gospel, when those two processions met, one led by life, and one led by death, it was at the moment that Jesus was filled with compassion for the widow that everything was transformed. Life overcame death. Mourning was transformed into laughter and joy. This transformation began with compassion; with Jesus opening his heart to the grief of the mother. Where do we begin to pour ourselves out? In those places where people are hurting; in those places where we find ourselves moved to open our hearts and reveal the compassion of Christ.
Let us always remember that we do not exist for the sake of the Church. We exist for the sake of the world. We are called to pour ourselves out, driven by compassion for those who are hurting in this world. If that means we have to look death full in the face, so be it. Cannot God raise up something new from the ashes of our vanquished dreams?
Let us not live in fear of death, or the little deaths that each of us will face as we walk together with Christ in our midst. Let us be willing to risk much for the sake of the world, and proclaim with our every word and deed the healing power of God’s love.
At the head of the procession going into Nain is Jesus. The procession coming out is led by a coffin. What will happen when these two processions cross paths at the town gate? Which one will give way?
Jesus sees the grieving mother. What does He do? How does He respond? His heart went out to her. He feels compassion for her. He chose to share in her sorrow.
Moved by compassion, Jesus acts. "Young man, I say to you, get up!" he shouts. And the dead man sat up and began to talk. The compassion of Jesus led to something amazing happening, something unexpected. Death was trampled down by the Lord of Life.
This is our Christian hope. Through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot. Death has been swallowed up in victory. We no longer have to live in fear of death.
But, sometimes, we do anyway, don’t we? It's difficult not to fear death. I’m not just talking about physical death. We die many little deaths throughout our lives. Many of the changes we face feel much like a little death. We grieve the loss of the familiar. We long to relive days from our past.
But the reality is that if we are to continue to grow, we must accept these little deaths. We must allow ourselves to be transformed into the full stature of Christ. And for that to happen, we have to let go of some of the baggage that we are dragging around with us; those old grudges, those past regrets, and those character flaws. There are aspects of ourselves that we have to allow to die.
In our Epistle lesson, Paul speaks about his earlier life in Judaism; about how he was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. You may recall when St. Stephen was stoned to death, it was Saul, who later became Paul, who held the coats of the stone hurling crowd. When Paul encountered Christ on the road to Damascus, he was transformed. But that transformation required a little death as well; the zealous persecutor of the Church had to die.
Congregations have to pass through these little deaths as well, if they are to be transformed and follow the call of God. I was an interim priest for a few years. I would be assigned to serve in a congregation while they made their transition from one spiritual leader to another. Sometimes their former priest was the beloved rector. Sometimes he or she was not so beloved.
Regardless of the case, there was always some element of a grieving process going on in that congregation. Interims were expected to allow that process to happen, and attend to any pastoral needs that might result from it. It was only when the congregation faced that that particular chapter in their life was now over that they could begin to dream about the future. There had to be a little death before there could be room for new life.
Sometimes, we fear these little deaths so much, that we are a bit too cautious. We hesitate to do anything new or risky. What if we fail? What if there isn’t enough? What if we make a mistake? We stick to the familiar, to the comfortable, because we are afraid of dying.
Barbara Brown Taylor, an author and an Episcopal priest, recently wrote a thoughtful article in the Christian Century entitled, “The Poured-Out Church”. I want to share part of it with you:
…when I consider my life of faith, this world is clearly where my transformation has taken place. It is in the world that I have met the people who have changed me—some of them believers, but far more of them not—people who have loved me, fought me, shamed me, forgiven me, sanding down my edges on one side while they broke whole ragged chunks of me off the other. The world is where I have been struck dumb by beauty, by cruelty, by human invention and greed. The world is where my notions of God have been destroyed, reformed, chastened, redeemed. The world is where I have occasionally been good for something and where I have done irreparable harm.
The reason I know this, however, is that the church has given me the eyes with which I see, as well as the words with which I speak. The church has given me a community in which to figure out what has happened to me in the world. It has given me a place to love and grieve, within a tradition far older and wiser than I. It is the church that has poured me into the world, in other words—which is counterintuitive. How can a church survive that keeps pouring itself into the world? I cannot possibly say. All I know is the gospel truth: those willing to give everything away are the ones with anything worth keeping; those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives. Go figure...
“…those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives.” Can we look death full in the face? Are we willing to pour ourselves into the world? Will we risk much for the sake of the Gospel?
We can. And we will. Because we are Christians. Because we do not live in fear of death. Because we are those who proclaim the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I’m not suggesting we be foolish. There’s a difference between being bold and risking much and being foolish. We are certainly called to be good stewards of the gifts God has given us.
But we must always remember that our mission field is out there in the world. And to be effective witnesses for God, we must pour ourselves into the world, even if it seems risky; even if it seems deadly.
How do we know where to pour ourselves out? In this morning’s Gospel, when those two processions met, one led by life, and one led by death, it was at the moment that Jesus was filled with compassion for the widow that everything was transformed. Life overcame death. Mourning was transformed into laughter and joy. This transformation began with compassion; with Jesus opening his heart to the grief of the mother. Where do we begin to pour ourselves out? In those places where people are hurting; in those places where we find ourselves moved to open our hearts and reveal the compassion of Christ.
Let us always remember that we do not exist for the sake of the Church. We exist for the sake of the world. We are called to pour ourselves out, driven by compassion for those who are hurting in this world. If that means we have to look death full in the face, so be it. Cannot God raise up something new from the ashes of our vanquished dreams?
Let us not live in fear of death, or the little deaths that each of us will face as we walk together with Christ in our midst. Let us be willing to risk much for the sake of the world, and proclaim with our every word and deed the healing power of God’s love.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Fourth Sunday in Lent
In this morning’s Gospel Jesus tells the parable that is commonly known as the story of the prodigal son. The term “prodigal” is defined as “being wastefully or recklessly extravagant.
I think that a more appropriate title for this story would be “the prodigal father,” as, from our perspective, I think it is the father who acts in a most extravagant manner.
The two sons in this story represent two rather typical ways that most people respond to treasures entrusted into their care. It is the classic distinction between those who see a half glass of water as either being half full or half empty. One of these brothers is an incurable optimist. The other is a stubborn pessimist.
One way to define a pessimist is to imagine that a child is placed in a room full of toys, and after an hour, is found sitting in a corner, not having touched one of the toys. When asked why he refused to play with them, he responds, “I knew I’d just break them.” A definition of an optimist would be to put another child in a room full of horse manure, and when you came back in an hour, you’d find the child digging like crazy. When you asked why he is digging, his response would be, “Well, with all this manure, I just know there’s a pony in here somewhere!”
I think that there are times when it is appropriate to be optimistic, but there are also times when it is prudent to be a bit pessimistic as well. In this morning’s Gospel the two brothers represent the extremes of these two perspectives. One is a foolish optimist. The other is a joyless pessimist.
The issue is their inheritance; the wealth they will receive from their father. One demands it, and then squanders it. The other accuses his father of wasting it on his worthless brother.
These two brothers are not that unusual. We probably all know someone who has come into an inheritance and managed to spend every penny in a short time. And we also probably know those who most likely still own the first nickel they ever earned.
Note that both of these sons are stewards, not the owners, of this wealth. Their inheritance was the result of their father’s labor. Being good stewards, caretakers of that entrusted to us by another, requires a mixture of optimism; the willingness to invest in the future, and pessimism, the wisdom to not invest foolishly.
What is reckless, and even extravagant, is the response of the father to both of his sons. He greets the one who has squandered his inheritance with joy, and throws a party to celebrate his homecoming. In response to his angry elder son, he invites him to set aside his preoccupation of what is fair and what is not, and join in the party.
The reckless extravagance of the father has nothing to do with the inheritance of material wealth. It is about what is lost being found. It is all about his love for his sons. It is about his relationship with his sons. It is about grace, the unmerited favor a father offered to his sons.
It is with this same grace, this same unmerited favor, that God responds to each of us. It doesn’t matter if we are inclined to be optimistic or pessimistic, a squanderer or a hoarder; God wants us all to come home and join the party.
In his book, A Passion for Pilgrimage, Dean Alan Jones offers these words about homecoming:
The Great Memory is simply this; God has fallen in love with you and wants you to come home! Our first memory is God's love for us, and it is this memory that has been buried and repressed. Your first memory (if only you could get back to it) is that of being God's joy and delight. Why is it difficult to remember the joy of our beginnings in the heart of God? I wonder if it has something to do with our unwillingness to face the fact of our limited future? Memory and hope are intimately related. Perhaps we cannot recall the love that brought us into being in the first place, because we cannot imagine a love strong enough to pull us through the gates of death. I refuse to remember, because I dare not hope. I refuse to remember and I dare not hope, because I am frightened and angry because I will have to change.
God is madly, head over heals in love with each and every one of us. And, as the people of God, it is with this same passionate love that we are called to greet every person who walks through our doors. It doesn’t matter if we think they are worthy. It doesn’t matter where they have come from. We rejoice that one who was lost has once again returned to the family of God, and we invite them to join in the celebration.
We who are already members of the church might consider ourselves in the role of the eldest son. Our culture would the younger son who has left home. The biggest challenge in this story is for the eldest son to accept the prodigal grace, the recklessly extravagant grace, of God. Our challenge is to accept that those who are new to the kingdom of God are seen as equals in God’s eyes with those of us who have worked in the kingdom for most of our lives. There is no pecking order in God’s kingdom. And that doesn’t seem fair, does it? It’s not. God’s free gift of grace is not fair. It is freely given to all.
During this season of Lent, let us seek to return to God, and rejoice with the heavenly hosts when those who once were without hope experience the depth of God’s love. This parable has no ending. We are not told how the older brother responds to his father’s invitation to join the party. The celebration pauses as the guests await the brother’s response, and our response as well. This morning God asks each of us what we will do in response to God’s recklessly extravagant grace.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
I think that a more appropriate title for this story would be “the prodigal father,” as, from our perspective, I think it is the father who acts in a most extravagant manner.
The two sons in this story represent two rather typical ways that most people respond to treasures entrusted into their care. It is the classic distinction between those who see a half glass of water as either being half full or half empty. One of these brothers is an incurable optimist. The other is a stubborn pessimist.
One way to define a pessimist is to imagine that a child is placed in a room full of toys, and after an hour, is found sitting in a corner, not having touched one of the toys. When asked why he refused to play with them, he responds, “I knew I’d just break them.” A definition of an optimist would be to put another child in a room full of horse manure, and when you came back in an hour, you’d find the child digging like crazy. When you asked why he is digging, his response would be, “Well, with all this manure, I just know there’s a pony in here somewhere!”
I think that there are times when it is appropriate to be optimistic, but there are also times when it is prudent to be a bit pessimistic as well. In this morning’s Gospel the two brothers represent the extremes of these two perspectives. One is a foolish optimist. The other is a joyless pessimist.
The issue is their inheritance; the wealth they will receive from their father. One demands it, and then squanders it. The other accuses his father of wasting it on his worthless brother.
These two brothers are not that unusual. We probably all know someone who has come into an inheritance and managed to spend every penny in a short time. And we also probably know those who most likely still own the first nickel they ever earned.
Note that both of these sons are stewards, not the owners, of this wealth. Their inheritance was the result of their father’s labor. Being good stewards, caretakers of that entrusted to us by another, requires a mixture of optimism; the willingness to invest in the future, and pessimism, the wisdom to not invest foolishly.
What is reckless, and even extravagant, is the response of the father to both of his sons. He greets the one who has squandered his inheritance with joy, and throws a party to celebrate his homecoming. In response to his angry elder son, he invites him to set aside his preoccupation of what is fair and what is not, and join in the party.
The reckless extravagance of the father has nothing to do with the inheritance of material wealth. It is about what is lost being found. It is all about his love for his sons. It is about his relationship with his sons. It is about grace, the unmerited favor a father offered to his sons.
It is with this same grace, this same unmerited favor, that God responds to each of us. It doesn’t matter if we are inclined to be optimistic or pessimistic, a squanderer or a hoarder; God wants us all to come home and join the party.
In his book, A Passion for Pilgrimage, Dean Alan Jones offers these words about homecoming:
The Great Memory is simply this; God has fallen in love with you and wants you to come home! Our first memory is God's love for us, and it is this memory that has been buried and repressed. Your first memory (if only you could get back to it) is that of being God's joy and delight. Why is it difficult to remember the joy of our beginnings in the heart of God? I wonder if it has something to do with our unwillingness to face the fact of our limited future? Memory and hope are intimately related. Perhaps we cannot recall the love that brought us into being in the first place, because we cannot imagine a love strong enough to pull us through the gates of death. I refuse to remember, because I dare not hope. I refuse to remember and I dare not hope, because I am frightened and angry because I will have to change.
God is madly, head over heals in love with each and every one of us. And, as the people of God, it is with this same passionate love that we are called to greet every person who walks through our doors. It doesn’t matter if we think they are worthy. It doesn’t matter where they have come from. We rejoice that one who was lost has once again returned to the family of God, and we invite them to join in the celebration.
We who are already members of the church might consider ourselves in the role of the eldest son. Our culture would the younger son who has left home. The biggest challenge in this story is for the eldest son to accept the prodigal grace, the recklessly extravagant grace, of God. Our challenge is to accept that those who are new to the kingdom of God are seen as equals in God’s eyes with those of us who have worked in the kingdom for most of our lives. There is no pecking order in God’s kingdom. And that doesn’t seem fair, does it? It’s not. God’s free gift of grace is not fair. It is freely given to all.
During this season of Lent, let us seek to return to God, and rejoice with the heavenly hosts when those who once were without hope experience the depth of God’s love. This parable has no ending. We are not told how the older brother responds to his father’s invitation to join the party. The celebration pauses as the guests await the brother’s response, and our response as well. This morning God asks each of us what we will do in response to God’s recklessly extravagant grace.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Second Sunday in Lent
Last week, we talked about temptation and personal sin. I mentioned that a good way to think about sin is to consider it as “twisted good.” Sin is a symptom of a spiritual dis-ease. The cure is to repent, to recognize that we have somehow allowed our focus to be turned to something else and to reorient our lives so that our focus is back on God. With God’s help, we can return to the good root.
That is an important part of what we do during the season of Lent. We seek out the sin in our lives, confess it, amend our lives, and turn our eyes once again toward God. That’s part of what we are called to do during this season, but that’s not the end of it. We don’t live in a vacuum. Our personal repentance is the beginning of our Lenten journey. Now we must look beyond ourselves. We look for the need for our larger community to repent and return to the Lord.
To some degree, cleaning up our personal lives is the easy part. Going out into the world with a message of repentance is a lot harder. But, unfortunately, if we are to be followers of Jesus Christ, I don’t think we have a choice.
In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus is warned that Herod is going to kill him. He does not waiver in his mission. He sets his face toward Jerusalem, and the cross. Neither can we hesitate when it comes to proclaiming the message of Christ to the world outside these walls.
The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. To Restore All People. We are Christians not only for our own sakes, but for the sake of the world.
It seems to me that one of the primary roles of any congregation is to "equip the saints for ministry." To some degree, we offer worship and Christian Education opportunities to prepare us for the work God has set before us. But so many times there seems to be a lot of equipping going on, but not a whole lot of ministry. It's as if sometimes we feel that we're not quite ready -- one more class, one more experience of the living God, or one more prayer, and then (and only then!) we'll go out into the world and proclaim the Good News.
In the Gospel According to Mark we hear of John the Baptizer boldly proclaiming repentance and forgiveness through Baptism. We hear also of John's confronting King Herod. I would imagine that more than a few of John's followers gulped hard before accompanying him. But John and his followers continued in their prophetic preaching, and their ministries were blessed by God.
We have been called to go forth into the world and bear witness to the healing power of God's love. Inspired by the prophetic ministries of the Old Testament prophets, John and Jesus, we bear witness in word and deed. And we always remember that with each step of the way, we will find Christ in our midst, who breathes the Spirit upon all disciples. That is all we need. We are ready for this mission, whether we know it or not. What are we waiting for?
Amidst the struggles that the Church faces today, there will be times as we venture out into the world when we are called to prophetic ministry. We must put our hope in Christ, and not shy away from this calling.
We are called to prophetic action. We are called to be the John the Baptists of the world, proclaiming the message, “Repent! For the kingdom of God is at hand!”
The image of John the Baptist may make some of us a bit uncomfortable. He is depicted in scripture as being a hard, angry man, usually delivering his message stridently. And maybe we have good reasons to question if such a strident way of proclaiming our message would be well received outside these walls.
Maybe there’s another way to express our prophetic role. Let’s return to the example of Jesus in this morning’s Gospel. Consider his response to Jerusalem, the beloved center of the world for all Israelites:"Jerusalem, Jerusalem," he says, "how often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!"
Jesus knows that he is going to Jerusalem, and will be will be rejected by the people. He knows what he is going to face there, that he will be arrested, suffer and be executed by his enemies. And yet, he weeps, not for himself but for the very people who will reject him. His heart breaks because he cares for them. He is willing to do whatever it takes to gather them under God’s wings. He weeps over Jerusalem, and all of humanity, because he has the heart of God. And God cares.
Those who follow Jesus, follow his example. At the root of the ministry of Jesus is love. And so, at the root of our message to the world must be God’s love. Two men were sitting at lunch one day when the topic of church came up. The first said that his congregation had a new preacher.
"What happened to the old one?" his friend asked.
"We didn’t much care for him, so he left."
"What didn’t you like about him?"
"It was his preaching," the man said. "He kept telling us we are sinners and that if we didn’t repent we would face the judgment of God."
"Oh," the second man said. "So what does the new one preach?"
"He tells us that we’re sinners and that if we don’t repent we will face the judgment of God."
The second man looked a little confused. "I don’t understand," he said. "What’s the difference?"
"The new one," his friend noted, "has tears in his eyes when he says it."
What was the difference between the two? The new one cared. The plight of people mattered enough for him to weep over their place before God.
Writing in a journal on ministry, William Easum once asked, "When was the last time your church leaders wept over the plight of your city instead of worrying about paying the bills?"
It is a good question isn’t it?
When was the last time we wept for the homeless men and women who live in camps just outside of our towns?
When was the last time we wept for the children who go to bed hungry every night?
When was the last time we wept over the people who have never heard the Good News of God in Christ?
When was the last time we wept because people refused to let God gather them under God’s wings?
Stepping into such a prophetic role will be difficult. We will make some people uncomfortable with our words and actions. No doubt this role was difficult for the prophets of the Old Testament as well, and John the Baptist handed over his very life to it. But if we have been called by God to this ministry, it is time to drop the excuses and go! The road may be hard, but the joy and peace we find on it will be deep, for our companion on the journey is Christ, who promised, "I am with you always, to the end of the age."
That is an important part of what we do during the season of Lent. We seek out the sin in our lives, confess it, amend our lives, and turn our eyes once again toward God. That’s part of what we are called to do during this season, but that’s not the end of it. We don’t live in a vacuum. Our personal repentance is the beginning of our Lenten journey. Now we must look beyond ourselves. We look for the need for our larger community to repent and return to the Lord.
To some degree, cleaning up our personal lives is the easy part. Going out into the world with a message of repentance is a lot harder. But, unfortunately, if we are to be followers of Jesus Christ, I don’t think we have a choice.
In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus is warned that Herod is going to kill him. He does not waiver in his mission. He sets his face toward Jerusalem, and the cross. Neither can we hesitate when it comes to proclaiming the message of Christ to the world outside these walls.
The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. To Restore All People. We are Christians not only for our own sakes, but for the sake of the world.
It seems to me that one of the primary roles of any congregation is to "equip the saints for ministry." To some degree, we offer worship and Christian Education opportunities to prepare us for the work God has set before us. But so many times there seems to be a lot of equipping going on, but not a whole lot of ministry. It's as if sometimes we feel that we're not quite ready -- one more class, one more experience of the living God, or one more prayer, and then (and only then!) we'll go out into the world and proclaim the Good News.
In the Gospel According to Mark we hear of John the Baptizer boldly proclaiming repentance and forgiveness through Baptism. We hear also of John's confronting King Herod. I would imagine that more than a few of John's followers gulped hard before accompanying him. But John and his followers continued in their prophetic preaching, and their ministries were blessed by God.
We have been called to go forth into the world and bear witness to the healing power of God's love. Inspired by the prophetic ministries of the Old Testament prophets, John and Jesus, we bear witness in word and deed. And we always remember that with each step of the way, we will find Christ in our midst, who breathes the Spirit upon all disciples. That is all we need. We are ready for this mission, whether we know it or not. What are we waiting for?
Amidst the struggles that the Church faces today, there will be times as we venture out into the world when we are called to prophetic ministry. We must put our hope in Christ, and not shy away from this calling.
We are called to prophetic action. We are called to be the John the Baptists of the world, proclaiming the message, “Repent! For the kingdom of God is at hand!”
The image of John the Baptist may make some of us a bit uncomfortable. He is depicted in scripture as being a hard, angry man, usually delivering his message stridently. And maybe we have good reasons to question if such a strident way of proclaiming our message would be well received outside these walls.
Maybe there’s another way to express our prophetic role. Let’s return to the example of Jesus in this morning’s Gospel. Consider his response to Jerusalem, the beloved center of the world for all Israelites:"Jerusalem, Jerusalem," he says, "how often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!"
Jesus knows that he is going to Jerusalem, and will be will be rejected by the people. He knows what he is going to face there, that he will be arrested, suffer and be executed by his enemies. And yet, he weeps, not for himself but for the very people who will reject him. His heart breaks because he cares for them. He is willing to do whatever it takes to gather them under God’s wings. He weeps over Jerusalem, and all of humanity, because he has the heart of God. And God cares.
Those who follow Jesus, follow his example. At the root of the ministry of Jesus is love. And so, at the root of our message to the world must be God’s love. Two men were sitting at lunch one day when the topic of church came up. The first said that his congregation had a new preacher.
"What happened to the old one?" his friend asked.
"We didn’t much care for him, so he left."
"What didn’t you like about him?"
"It was his preaching," the man said. "He kept telling us we are sinners and that if we didn’t repent we would face the judgment of God."
"Oh," the second man said. "So what does the new one preach?"
"He tells us that we’re sinners and that if we don’t repent we will face the judgment of God."
The second man looked a little confused. "I don’t understand," he said. "What’s the difference?"
"The new one," his friend noted, "has tears in his eyes when he says it."
What was the difference between the two? The new one cared. The plight of people mattered enough for him to weep over their place before God.
Writing in a journal on ministry, William Easum once asked, "When was the last time your church leaders wept over the plight of your city instead of worrying about paying the bills?"
It is a good question isn’t it?
When was the last time we wept for the homeless men and women who live in camps just outside of our towns?
When was the last time we wept for the children who go to bed hungry every night?
When was the last time we wept over the people who have never heard the Good News of God in Christ?
When was the last time we wept because people refused to let God gather them under God’s wings?
Stepping into such a prophetic role will be difficult. We will make some people uncomfortable with our words and actions. No doubt this role was difficult for the prophets of the Old Testament as well, and John the Baptist handed over his very life to it. But if we have been called by God to this ministry, it is time to drop the excuses and go! The road may be hard, but the joy and peace we find on it will be deep, for our companion on the journey is Christ, who promised, "I am with you always, to the end of the age."
First Sunday in Lent, February 24, 2007
As we enter this season of Lent, we are offered the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.
The three temptations that he faces symbolize many of the temptations that each of us face on a regular basis. This morning I want to look at each of them a little closer, in hopes of helping us be more prepared when we encounter them.
First of all, maybe I need to make it clear that we need to be very careful about confusing temptation with sin. Lots of different things might wander through our minds. Some of those thoughts might be quite ugly. We might be able to limit such thoughts by more closely monitoring what we let into our heads…what we watch on TV, what we read, the kinds of conversations we engage in, for instance. But I think we need to be clear that ugly thoughts wandering through our heads are not necessarily sinful. It is how we respond to such thoughts. Do we dwell on them? Do we act on them? Or do we let them just pass by?
Jesus was tempted, as we are. Yet he did not sin. He rejected those ugly thoughts.
The first temptation is to satisfy his hunger by turning stones into bread. Satisfying our physical appetites is a strong temptation for most people. And at its root is something that is not necessarily wrong.
To understand that, let me give you a definition of sin that I’ve found helpful. Sin is twisted good. At the root of every sin is something good. Sometimes when I hear the suggestion that the way to deal with sin is to cut it out over our lives, I find that idea making little sense to me. Do we really think we can surgically remove a part of ourselves without such a surgery affecting the rest of our being? I don’t think we can do that. We may be able to suppress those parts of who we are that we find tempts us to sin, but eventually it will come back to trouble us again.
I think a healthier way is to untwist the sin…to find its healthy root.
Let’s take for instance the temptation to satisfy our appetites. Often this arises out of the uncomfortable longing that most people experience for that elusive “something more.” We feel something missing. Life isn’t quite right. And so we seek some form of physical gratification to fill that void. Often whatever it is we use; food, sex, alcohol, drugs, whatever our particular temptation is, it seems to satisfy us for the moment, but eventually we find ourselves struggling with that same longing, now complicated by our possible feelings of guilt and remorse because of having given in to the temptation previously.
There’s nothing wrong in recognizing our longing for something more. Actually, that is a healthy thing. When tempted Jesus responded, “Man does not live by bread alone.” In another version of this story, he says, “man does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” This is what we truly long for…God. It is God who will fill that empty void.
Most times, there is nothing wrong with addressing our felt needs: our need for food, shelter, security, companionship. The problem comes when we confuse these things with our real needs, our eternal needs. As Thomas a Kempis said, we use things temporal, but we desire things eternal.
The next temptation Jesus faced was power. He was offered the rule of many kingdoms. Power and authority is a strong temptation for some of us. At its root is a desire to have some control of our lives…to assert some authority over those things we can control. This is not necessarily a bad thing. We could even say that it is an appropriate role for good stewards of God’s creation. The problem comes in when we begin to think that the power rests fully in us; that we rule instead of being stewards. The occasion of sin is when we try to play God.
The reality is that we are never in control, and we can never be God. But we are tempted to try. If we give in to that temptation, we might feel for awhile that we are God, but eventually we will come to realize that we have replaced God with another idol; something outside of ourselves that is driving us to seek power. Jesus’ response to this temptation is to say 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" We let God be God, and we serve as God’s stewards.
The last temptation grows out of the one before it. Once we realize that we are not God, there is the temptation to try to control God, to find ways to manipulate God’s power. I’d suggest to you that throughout history, one of the institutions that has given in to this temptation is the Church.
I’ll let you think about that one a little bit. For now let me just say that as Christians, we are not into magic, or magical thinking. We are not trying to manipulate God. Our intention is to become aware of the ways in which God is already manifest, the ways in which God is already among us. We are not summoning God to make an appearance here this morning through our prayers. God is already here, and always has been. The change happens within us; we grow to see God moving among us, and then join in God’s dance, usually referred to as doing God’s will in the world.
We do not put God to the test by trying to control or manipulate God. Instead, we seek out God among us, within each of us, and rolling through all things.
When faced with temptations, seek things eternal. Let God be God, and open your eyes to God’s presence among us.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
The three temptations that he faces symbolize many of the temptations that each of us face on a regular basis. This morning I want to look at each of them a little closer, in hopes of helping us be more prepared when we encounter them.
First of all, maybe I need to make it clear that we need to be very careful about confusing temptation with sin. Lots of different things might wander through our minds. Some of those thoughts might be quite ugly. We might be able to limit such thoughts by more closely monitoring what we let into our heads…what we watch on TV, what we read, the kinds of conversations we engage in, for instance. But I think we need to be clear that ugly thoughts wandering through our heads are not necessarily sinful. It is how we respond to such thoughts. Do we dwell on them? Do we act on them? Or do we let them just pass by?
Jesus was tempted, as we are. Yet he did not sin. He rejected those ugly thoughts.
The first temptation is to satisfy his hunger by turning stones into bread. Satisfying our physical appetites is a strong temptation for most people. And at its root is something that is not necessarily wrong.
To understand that, let me give you a definition of sin that I’ve found helpful. Sin is twisted good. At the root of every sin is something good. Sometimes when I hear the suggestion that the way to deal with sin is to cut it out over our lives, I find that idea making little sense to me. Do we really think we can surgically remove a part of ourselves without such a surgery affecting the rest of our being? I don’t think we can do that. We may be able to suppress those parts of who we are that we find tempts us to sin, but eventually it will come back to trouble us again.
I think a healthier way is to untwist the sin…to find its healthy root.
Let’s take for instance the temptation to satisfy our appetites. Often this arises out of the uncomfortable longing that most people experience for that elusive “something more.” We feel something missing. Life isn’t quite right. And so we seek some form of physical gratification to fill that void. Often whatever it is we use; food, sex, alcohol, drugs, whatever our particular temptation is, it seems to satisfy us for the moment, but eventually we find ourselves struggling with that same longing, now complicated by our possible feelings of guilt and remorse because of having given in to the temptation previously.
There’s nothing wrong in recognizing our longing for something more. Actually, that is a healthy thing. When tempted Jesus responded, “Man does not live by bread alone.” In another version of this story, he says, “man does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” This is what we truly long for…God. It is God who will fill that empty void.
Most times, there is nothing wrong with addressing our felt needs: our need for food, shelter, security, companionship. The problem comes when we confuse these things with our real needs, our eternal needs. As Thomas a Kempis said, we use things temporal, but we desire things eternal.
The next temptation Jesus faced was power. He was offered the rule of many kingdoms. Power and authority is a strong temptation for some of us. At its root is a desire to have some control of our lives…to assert some authority over those things we can control. This is not necessarily a bad thing. We could even say that it is an appropriate role for good stewards of God’s creation. The problem comes in when we begin to think that the power rests fully in us; that we rule instead of being stewards. The occasion of sin is when we try to play God.
The reality is that we are never in control, and we can never be God. But we are tempted to try. If we give in to that temptation, we might feel for awhile that we are God, but eventually we will come to realize that we have replaced God with another idol; something outside of ourselves that is driving us to seek power. Jesus’ response to this temptation is to say 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" We let God be God, and we serve as God’s stewards.
The last temptation grows out of the one before it. Once we realize that we are not God, there is the temptation to try to control God, to find ways to manipulate God’s power. I’d suggest to you that throughout history, one of the institutions that has given in to this temptation is the Church.
I’ll let you think about that one a little bit. For now let me just say that as Christians, we are not into magic, or magical thinking. We are not trying to manipulate God. Our intention is to become aware of the ways in which God is already manifest, the ways in which God is already among us. We are not summoning God to make an appearance here this morning through our prayers. God is already here, and always has been. The change happens within us; we grow to see God moving among us, and then join in God’s dance, usually referred to as doing God’s will in the world.
We do not put God to the test by trying to control or manipulate God. Instead, we seek out God among us, within each of us, and rolling through all things.
When faced with temptations, seek things eternal. Let God be God, and open your eyes to God’s presence among us.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Telephone Tree
Do you have news or prayer requests? If so, Vestry member Evie Brown can help you. Contact the parish office at 609-296-9618.
Boston Coffee Cakes
This is a popular annual fund raiser for Holy Spirit. Orders must be in by Sunday, March 4. Sign up for your cakes and take an order sheet if you can sell some to family, friends or neighbors. Each cake is 24 oz, costs $9.95 (of which the church receives 40%) and will arrive freshly baked for Palm Sunday.
The Craft Group
The Craft Group meets on Wednesdays from 10 am to 3 pm. Everyone is welcome. Bring your lunch; coffee, tea, soda are available. Our current year's outreach project is making lap robes for Meadowview Nursing Home. If you knit or crochet, but can't come on Wednesdays and would like to work on this project from home, let us know. We can supply you with yarn.
Card and Game Party, March 5
On Monday, March 5 from noon to 4:00 pm, bring a snack to share to the church and let the fun begin!
World Day of Prayer
On March 2, churches in the Tuckerton area will gather at 2:00 pm at the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, located on the corner of Mathistown Road and Highway 9. Everyone is invited.
Thursday Night "Equipping the Saints" Class
Please join us for a study of the third volume of The Church's Teaching Series, The Practice of Prayer, by Margaret Guenther. The study of this particular volume is especially appropriate as part of your Lenten discipline. We begin at 6:30 pm in the library. Books are available from Fr. Terry.
"Welcome to the Episcopal Church" Class
This class meets on Sundays at noon in the undercroft (downstairs hall). This is a class to help us learn more about what it means to be an Episcopalian. Everyone is welcome, newcomers and those seeking a refresher course.
Lenten Program, Fridays During Lent
5:45 - Evening Prayer
6:00 - Simple meal (soup and bread provided)
6:15 - Program: "Groundwork - Digging Deep for Change and Growth" - The goal of Groundwork is to encourage personal and congregational transformation, to ask our members and leaders to dig deeply into the soil of our mission and context so that we may engage in serious and joyful learning about evangelism and service.
6:00 - Simple meal (soup and bread provided)
6:15 - Program: "Groundwork - Digging Deep for Change and Growth" - The goal of Groundwork is to encourage personal and congregational transformation, to ask our members and leaders to dig deeply into the soil of our mission and context so that we may engage in serious and joyful learning about evangelism and service.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Nothing Like A Professional
A woman was at work when she received a phone call that her small daughter was very sick with a fever.
She left her work and stopped by the pharmacy to get some medication. She got back to her car and found that she had locked her keys inside!
She didn’t know what to do, so she called home and told the baby sitter what had happened. The baby sitter told her that the fever was getting worse. She said, “You might find a coat hanger and use that to open the door.”
The woman looked around and found an old rusty coat hanger that had been left on the ground, possibly by someone else who at some time had locked their keys in their car. She looked at the hanger and said, “I don’t know how to use this.”
She bowed her head and asked God to send her help. Within five minutes a beat up old motorcycle pulled up, with a dirty, greasy, bearded man who was wearing an old biker skull rag on his head.
The woman thought, “This is what you sent to help me?”
But she was desperate, so she was also very thankful.
The man got off of his cycle and asked if he could help.
She said, “Yes, my daughter is very sick. I stopped to get her some medication and I locked my keys in my car. I must get home to her. Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car?
He said, “Sure.” He walked over to the car, and in less than a minute the car was opened. She hugged the man and through her tears she said, “Thank you so much! You are a very nice man!”
The man replied, “Lady, I am not a nice man. I just got out of prison today. I was in prison for car theft and have only been out for about an hour.”
The woman hugged the man again and with sobbing tears cried out loud,
“Oh, Thank you, Lord! You even sent me a professional!”
She left her work and stopped by the pharmacy to get some medication. She got back to her car and found that she had locked her keys inside!
She didn’t know what to do, so she called home and told the baby sitter what had happened. The baby sitter told her that the fever was getting worse. She said, “You might find a coat hanger and use that to open the door.”
The woman looked around and found an old rusty coat hanger that had been left on the ground, possibly by someone else who at some time had locked their keys in their car. She looked at the hanger and said, “I don’t know how to use this.”
She bowed her head and asked God to send her help. Within five minutes a beat up old motorcycle pulled up, with a dirty, greasy, bearded man who was wearing an old biker skull rag on his head.
The woman thought, “This is what you sent to help me?”
But she was desperate, so she was also very thankful.
The man got off of his cycle and asked if he could help.
She said, “Yes, my daughter is very sick. I stopped to get her some medication and I locked my keys in my car. I must get home to her. Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car?
He said, “Sure.” He walked over to the car, and in less than a minute the car was opened. She hugged the man and through her tears she said, “Thank you so much! You are a very nice man!”
The man replied, “Lady, I am not a nice man. I just got out of prison today. I was in prison for car theft and have only been out for about an hour.”
The woman hugged the man again and with sobbing tears cried out loud,
“Oh, Thank you, Lord! You even sent me a professional!”
Friday, September 29, 2006
Our Big Day
A big day in the life of our parish happens tomorrow, Saturday, September 30th, 2006, when we will welcome our bishop, +George Councell, and together with him celebrate the new ministry of our Vicar. We will also give thanks for our new building and dedicate it for the use of our parish. The celebration begins at three pm in the former St. Theresa's RC church on Main Street in Tuckerton, which is now known as The Church of the Holy Spirit, Episcopal.
Come, Holy Ghost
Creator blest
And in our hearts take up Thy rest.
Come with Thy grace
And heavenly aid
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made.
Come, Holy Ghost
Creator blest
And in our hearts take up Thy rest.
Come with Thy grace
And heavenly aid
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Who Is St. Therese of Lisieux?
We are now moved into the former St. Theresa's RC Church on East Main Street, Tuckerton! That building will now be known as Holy Spirit Episcopal Church.
Who is the Theresa for which our new parish home was named in its first incarnation?
There are a few saints with this name, but this Theresa was also known as "the Little Flower" of Jesus. She stumbled upon a brand of spirituality that is absolute genius, because anyone at all can follow it.
As a young girl, Theresa dreamed of doing grand things for God. She often fantasized about becoming a missionary in a wild, dangerous place, or becoming an explorer, or some daring and courageous person who would die a dramatic death and become a martyr.
Instead, she died of tuberculosis after having lived as a cloistered Carmelite, and did not live to see her thirtieth year.
But Therese discovered a great spiritual truth more or less by accident: it was that sanctity was available to everyone, no matter what their station in life, or their occupation. It was, she realized, simply a matter of doing whatever you were doing as well as you possibly could, and dedicate it all to God. No matter where you were in life--a doctor or a dishwasher, it didn't matter--the path of holiness and sainthood was open to you.
Such a simple and obvious truth. No wonder we all missed it until Theresa pointed it out to us.
Theresa is known for her love of roses. She said, "I want to spend my heaven doing good on earth, and I will send a shower of roses so that you know I am with you."
St. Theresa
Who is the Theresa for which our new parish home was named in its first incarnation?
There are a few saints with this name, but this Theresa was also known as "the Little Flower" of Jesus. She stumbled upon a brand of spirituality that is absolute genius, because anyone at all can follow it.
As a young girl, Theresa dreamed of doing grand things for God. She often fantasized about becoming a missionary in a wild, dangerous place, or becoming an explorer, or some daring and courageous person who would die a dramatic death and become a martyr.
Instead, she died of tuberculosis after having lived as a cloistered Carmelite, and did not live to see her thirtieth year.
But Therese discovered a great spiritual truth more or less by accident: it was that sanctity was available to everyone, no matter what their station in life, or their occupation. It was, she realized, simply a matter of doing whatever you were doing as well as you possibly could, and dedicate it all to God. No matter where you were in life--a doctor or a dishwasher, it didn't matter--the path of holiness and sainthood was open to you.
Such a simple and obvious truth. No wonder we all missed it until Theresa pointed it out to us.
Theresa is known for her love of roses. She said, "I want to spend my heaven doing good on earth, and I will send a shower of roses so that you know I am with you."
Sunday, May 14, 2006
May 14, 2006
Today, throughout this country, we honor one of the most important roles of humanity. Today, we honor Motherhood.
In today's culture, you would think that this day would be decreed to be something a little more inclusive. Parent's Day, maybe? But no, over time, this day has managed to keep its significance, and identify the role of Mother as being unique to the role of Father. Is there a difference?
In today's households, many roles are shared by the parents, making the line between Moms and Dads a little more blurry. The stereotypical roles no longer define parents in today's world. The reality is that we are each a composite of many different characteristics; some masculine, and some feminine. More than ever before, the title Parent seems more appropriate.
Our Parent, who art in heaven... That doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it? That's the problem with language. It is not always a rational endeavor. And maybe that's a good thing, as our images of God are not always rationale, either. When it comes to the nature of God, we know very little. We talk about God using metaphors. Sometimes metaphors are helpful. Sometimes they're not. If our reference to God as Father leads us to believe that God must be male, much like our earthly fathers, and our experience of earthly fathers is negative, then the metaphor of God as father may hinder our relationship and our understanding of God. Speaking of God as Parent probably isn't much better, as our relationship with God might become yoked to our interaction with our earthly parents.
Our Father/Mother, who art in heaven... This is a cumbersome way to address God, but it does have some merit. It is a complex image, a unique image, and one that is not readily accepted literally. It contains an element of mystery. But, once again, it just doesn't sound right to our ear, does it?
Our Mother who art in heaven... This metaphor has the same problem as the Father metaphor. Referring to God as Mother makes it easy to let our earthly Mother become our model of God. Yet, it is a metaphor worth exploring, as I think it is an option that has been neglected for much too long.
God is both Father and Mother. God has both masculine and feminine characteristics. You may have never thought of God before with feminine characteristics. I invite you today to consider God as Mother; to consider God as the One who gathers us under Her wings.
Mother's Day is not specifically a religious holiday, although it is interesting that the lectionary provides us with today's Gospel for the Sunday set aside to honor mothers. Jesus said, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments…and I will love you and reveal myself to you."
If there was ever a human metaphor for the love of God, it would probably be the love of a mother for her child; an unconditional love. God's love is totally unconditional.
I invite you to recall some of your memories of unconditional love from your life. They don't have to be memories of your mother's love. You might remember such love from your father, grandparents, spouse, or any other significant person in your life. We are referring to this "no strings attached" love as motherly love, but it didn't have to come from your mom. We've all experienced this kind of love, expressions of care that were unearned and undeserved. Even though it may not have been your personal experience, the idea of unconditional love, born through the ages in song and literature, has been wrapped up with the image of Mother.
This morning I want to suggest to you that the term Mother is an appropriate way to address God, who offers us unconditional love, and who gives us a new commandment, that we love one another.
Let me tell a story to illustrate the difference between the masculine and the feminine, a story that might help illustrate why I think right now, in this time in history, the image of Mother is a good way to envision God. It is a story told by Ed Gentry, a bible study leader at a church in Texas.
Today, I have invited you to stretch your understanding of God, to explore the possibility of seeing God as your heavenly Mother. I have found this metaphor to be helpful in my life. I suspect it may be helpful to some of you.
Let us celebrate motherhood this day, and give thanks to God our Mother. Let us also honor God as we encounter Her in those around us. Express your love for the mothers in your life. They are created in the image of God.
In today's culture, you would think that this day would be decreed to be something a little more inclusive. Parent's Day, maybe? But no, over time, this day has managed to keep its significance, and identify the role of Mother as being unique to the role of Father. Is there a difference?
In today's households, many roles are shared by the parents, making the line between Moms and Dads a little more blurry. The stereotypical roles no longer define parents in today's world. The reality is that we are each a composite of many different characteristics; some masculine, and some feminine. More than ever before, the title Parent seems more appropriate.
Our Parent, who art in heaven... That doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it? That's the problem with language. It is not always a rational endeavor. And maybe that's a good thing, as our images of God are not always rationale, either. When it comes to the nature of God, we know very little. We talk about God using metaphors. Sometimes metaphors are helpful. Sometimes they're not. If our reference to God as Father leads us to believe that God must be male, much like our earthly fathers, and our experience of earthly fathers is negative, then the metaphor of God as father may hinder our relationship and our understanding of God. Speaking of God as Parent probably isn't much better, as our relationship with God might become yoked to our interaction with our earthly parents.
Our Father/Mother, who art in heaven... This is a cumbersome way to address God, but it does have some merit. It is a complex image, a unique image, and one that is not readily accepted literally. It contains an element of mystery. But, once again, it just doesn't sound right to our ear, does it?
Our Mother who art in heaven... This metaphor has the same problem as the Father metaphor. Referring to God as Mother makes it easy to let our earthly Mother become our model of God. Yet, it is a metaphor worth exploring, as I think it is an option that has been neglected for much too long.
God is both Father and Mother. God has both masculine and feminine characteristics. You may have never thought of God before with feminine characteristics. I invite you today to consider God as Mother; to consider God as the One who gathers us under Her wings.
Mother's Day is not specifically a religious holiday, although it is interesting that the lectionary provides us with today's Gospel for the Sunday set aside to honor mothers. Jesus said, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments…and I will love you and reveal myself to you."
If there was ever a human metaphor for the love of God, it would probably be the love of a mother for her child; an unconditional love. God's love is totally unconditional.
I invite you to recall some of your memories of unconditional love from your life. They don't have to be memories of your mother's love. You might remember such love from your father, grandparents, spouse, or any other significant person in your life. We are referring to this "no strings attached" love as motherly love, but it didn't have to come from your mom. We've all experienced this kind of love, expressions of care that were unearned and undeserved. Even though it may not have been your personal experience, the idea of unconditional love, born through the ages in song and literature, has been wrapped up with the image of Mother.
This morning I want to suggest to you that the term Mother is an appropriate way to address God, who offers us unconditional love, and who gives us a new commandment, that we love one another.
Let me tell a story to illustrate the difference between the masculine and the feminine, a story that might help illustrate why I think right now, in this time in history, the image of Mother is a good way to envision God. It is a story told by Ed Gentry, a bible study leader at a church in Texas.
When I was a kid, we used to go to my grandparents dairy farm for a week each year. Each morning my grandmother would wake up at 4am and head out to the pasture to round up the cows and take them to the barn for milking. I will never forget the day I came of age. It was announced the following morning I would be allowed to get up and go with my grandmother as she performed her duties.Our Mother, who art in heaven, softly calling our names in the darkness. God the Creator giving birth to all creation, nurturing and sustaining Her creation, and expressing an inclusive love for all of creation. I think our world needs this metaphor for God right now. One who creates, nurtures and sustains.
By the time grandmother was ready to go, so was I...decked out completely with cowboy boots, plastic chaps, genuine leather holster, metal cap gun, bandana, cowboy hat, and, if memory serves, she found me digging around for a piece of rope to be used to wrangle the particularly reluctant doggies.
You can imagine my surprise when, as we started to walk to the barn, she began to softly call out the cows names into the darkness. By the time we got to the barn, the first few cows were lining up to come in and get milked. I don't remember if the surprise knocked me off my feet or I slipped on a cow patty, but I was really bothered. This was not how you were supposed to round up cattle. It bothered me for a long time. As we studied Psalm 23 last month, this memory came rushing back. My vision is of God gently calling our names in the dark as we walk through our lives. I think cattle prods would be more effective.
Today, I have invited you to stretch your understanding of God, to explore the possibility of seeing God as your heavenly Mother. I have found this metaphor to be helpful in my life. I suspect it may be helpful to some of you.
Let us celebrate motherhood this day, and give thanks to God our Mother. Let us also honor God as we encounter Her in those around us. Express your love for the mothers in your life. They are created in the image of God.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
April 30, 2006
The resurrected Christ appears to his disciples and tells them, "You are the witnesses of these things."
The disciples were called witnesses. What do you think of when you hear the word "witness"? I think of Perry Mason, one of my favorite shows as a kid. A good witness could steal the whole episode. What else leaps to mind? I have another image that springs to mind; from my childhood Pentecostal days, of witnessing on street corners. Sometimes it felt more like shoving Jesus down someone's throat if they wanted it or not. But we understood that's what Jesus called us to do.
And, to some degree, I think this approach is correct. I don’t think aggressive evangelism is very successful today, but if we really believe that we have found a way that gives meaning and purpose to our lives, it would seem that we would be bursting to share what we have found with those we encounter each day. We are called to be witnesses. But I'm not sure that street corners are the best place to find people who are open to the Gospel.
We are each being called to be witnesses to the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Today, it is the church that keeps Jesus alive in our midst by becoming the risen body of Christ. Jesus the Christ has become known to us, through the witness of scripture, and through the witness of how Jesus Christ has touched our lives.
How has Jesus Christ touched your life? What are the particular things that you can proclaim as a witness for Christ?
Being a witness can be difficult. We don't know what to say, or when to say it, or when to stop. Don't feel bad. At first, right after the resurrection, the disciples didn't feel up to the job, and they weren’t. Jesus told them to wait, to not start being his witness yet. Jesus knew that though the disciples were full of enthusiasm and good intentions, when push came to shove, they were really only ordinary people. They were to wait, until they were filled with the Holy Spirit, until they were filled with the presence of the living God.
It is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit that allows the Church to become the body of Christ. When we try to run on our own power, or our own strength, we are setting ourselves up for failure. We cannot present an authentic witness to Jesus Christ without the Holy Spirit.
Who are the witnesses for the Church? Who affirms that we are indeed the resurrected body of Christ? If the Church is to be heard in this world, if the Gospel is to be preached to open ears, the Church must also have witnesses. Who speaks for the church today?
Unfortunately, the church’s witness to the world has not always been a positive one. Mahatma Gandhi followed the teachings of Jesus, but said he could never become a Christian because of the example of Christianity he had witnessed. Today, there are young people who will not even consider Christianity as an option because of the harsh message they hear coming from the Church.
But, we do have other examples in the history of the Church. One of these examples would be St. Lawrence, who was martyred in 258. He was the Archdeacon of Rome. His assignment was to maintaining the sacred vessels and disperse alms to the poor. Governor of Rome took Pope Sextus captive. He demanded to know, "Where are the treasures of the church?" When the Pope refused to give up the treasure, he was tortured to death. The Governor gave Lawrence the same demand. “Bring me the treasures of the Church. "Give me three days, and I will grant your demand," said Lawrence. When he returned threee days later, he was accompanied by crowd of the lame, blind, and deaf, the nobodies of society. “Here are the treasures of the church," proclaimed Lawrence.
If our message is to be heard, we need to proclaim it in both word and deed. If we are to be effective witnesses to Jesus Christ in today's world, we need witnesses that will say, "Yes, these people live the life that they profess."
We are called to be witnesses. May God grant that each of us might encounter the risen Christ, be empowered by the Holy Spirit, and show forth in our lives what we profess by our faith.
Alleluia, Christ is risen!
The disciples were called witnesses. What do you think of when you hear the word "witness"? I think of Perry Mason, one of my favorite shows as a kid. A good witness could steal the whole episode. What else leaps to mind? I have another image that springs to mind; from my childhood Pentecostal days, of witnessing on street corners. Sometimes it felt more like shoving Jesus down someone's throat if they wanted it or not. But we understood that's what Jesus called us to do.
And, to some degree, I think this approach is correct. I don’t think aggressive evangelism is very successful today, but if we really believe that we have found a way that gives meaning and purpose to our lives, it would seem that we would be bursting to share what we have found with those we encounter each day. We are called to be witnesses. But I'm not sure that street corners are the best place to find people who are open to the Gospel.
We are each being called to be witnesses to the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Today, it is the church that keeps Jesus alive in our midst by becoming the risen body of Christ. Jesus the Christ has become known to us, through the witness of scripture, and through the witness of how Jesus Christ has touched our lives.
How has Jesus Christ touched your life? What are the particular things that you can proclaim as a witness for Christ?
Being a witness can be difficult. We don't know what to say, or when to say it, or when to stop. Don't feel bad. At first, right after the resurrection, the disciples didn't feel up to the job, and they weren’t. Jesus told them to wait, to not start being his witness yet. Jesus knew that though the disciples were full of enthusiasm and good intentions, when push came to shove, they were really only ordinary people. They were to wait, until they were filled with the Holy Spirit, until they were filled with the presence of the living God.
It is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit that allows the Church to become the body of Christ. When we try to run on our own power, or our own strength, we are setting ourselves up for failure. We cannot present an authentic witness to Jesus Christ without the Holy Spirit.
Who are the witnesses for the Church? Who affirms that we are indeed the resurrected body of Christ? If the Church is to be heard in this world, if the Gospel is to be preached to open ears, the Church must also have witnesses. Who speaks for the church today?
Unfortunately, the church’s witness to the world has not always been a positive one. Mahatma Gandhi followed the teachings of Jesus, but said he could never become a Christian because of the example of Christianity he had witnessed. Today, there are young people who will not even consider Christianity as an option because of the harsh message they hear coming from the Church.
But, we do have other examples in the history of the Church. One of these examples would be St. Lawrence, who was martyred in 258. He was the Archdeacon of Rome. His assignment was to maintaining the sacred vessels and disperse alms to the poor. Governor of Rome took Pope Sextus captive. He demanded to know, "Where are the treasures of the church?" When the Pope refused to give up the treasure, he was tortured to death. The Governor gave Lawrence the same demand. “Bring me the treasures of the Church. "Give me three days, and I will grant your demand," said Lawrence. When he returned threee days later, he was accompanied by crowd of the lame, blind, and deaf, the nobodies of society. “Here are the treasures of the church," proclaimed Lawrence.
If our message is to be heard, we need to proclaim it in both word and deed. If we are to be effective witnesses to Jesus Christ in today's world, we need witnesses that will say, "Yes, these people live the life that they profess."
We are called to be witnesses. May God grant that each of us might encounter the risen Christ, be empowered by the Holy Spirit, and show forth in our lives what we profess by our faith.
Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Monday, April 17, 2006
Easter, 2006
Easter 2006
Sometime between Friday and this morning, over 2000 years ago, something happened. We don’t know exactly what happened. All we have is the testimony of those who saw evidence of this “something” that first Easter morning. A wandering rabbi by the name of Jesus had been executed by the Romans for the crime of treason. They said he claimed to be king of the Jews.
Three days later, his tomb was found to be empty. Some of his followers told stories of seeing him alive. Throughout his small band of followers spread the message; “He is Risen!” At first, these followers weren’t sure what that meant exactly, except that one they loved, whose loss they had mourned, had somehow appeared once again in their midst.
Over time, this “something” that happened, this event, became the definitive moment in the faith tradition known as Christianity. Eventually it came to be understood to mean something like this; “through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot.”
We are no longer held captive by our fear of death. That is a wonderful thing in and of itself, but is that it? Is that what Easter is all about? Not being afraid to die?
I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t seem to cover the myriad of emotions I feel when confronted with the story of the resurrection. I think overcoming fear is a big part of it, but I’m not sure it is simply overcoming the fear of dying.
In the Gospel account, the risen Christ tells the women, “Do not be afraid.” That’s all well and good for them. If I was able to see Jesus Christ, the son of the living God risen from the grave, I wouldn’t be afraid either!
With those in the Gospel story, we proclaim, “He is risen!” What do we mean by that? If he is risen, then where is he?
It’s time for my thunderstorm story again. A little boy was scared during a thunderstorm. His Mom tried to comfort. “Don’t be scared,” she said. “God will keep you safe.”
“But Mom!” the little boy cried. “Right now, I need a God with skin on!”
Sometimes we all need a God with skin on. In order for this idea, this concept of resurrection and immortality to not just float away, it needs to be concrete; it needs to put on some flesh.
One way of understanding a sacrament, an outward sign of an inward grace, is that these things, wine, bread, water, oil, words, people, in a sense become for us concrete ways that we can hold on to the lofty concepts that they represent. We understand Jesus to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of God. We understand the Church to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of Jesus Christ. We, those who are baptized and filled with the spirit of the living God, are the Church. Each one of us is a living sacrament. Each one of us can be God, with skin on for each other. We can represent the risen Christ to one another.
It isn’t always easy to see Christ in your neighbor. Sometimes it’s because your neighbor is a jerk. But most times, I think we cannot see Christ clearly in others because our own vision has become cloudy. How do we clear our vision?
Friday night I spoke to you about suffering and death, and suggested that sometimes we have to let something die in order to make room for the new thing God might be doing. Sometimes we have to let go of something that we have been clinging to desperately in order to see the risen Christ in our midst.
I spoke of the little pit bull that lives within me, and the need for me to let my old friend die. I mentioned that the reason that now is the time to finally let go of the attack dog inside of me that has kept me safe for so long was because I felt God doing something new within me, and this pit bull, with his growls and long teeth, was barring the way for this new thing.
What is this new thing? I promised you if you came back this morning I’d tell you about it. Now I’m not sure just how to describe it. It’s a particular way to view our relationship with God, and our relationship with each other. It’s not really that new, I suppose. It’s Christianity in its most basic form, actually. It seems that somewhere along the way, most likely while paying too much attention to the barking of my pit bull, I seem to have forgotten some of these basic themes.
I’m relearning this relational approach to God through the writings of one author. Right now, I’m allowing this writer to be God, with skin on, for me.
I’m not going to mention the name of the author who seems to be ushering in a new chapter in my own spiritual life, as some folks might be inclined to run out and buy his books. That would be a mistake. Most likely you would be disappointed. He’s not a great writer, and his ideas are not that novel. He speaks to me right now. I’m not sure he would speak to you.
This guy describes himself as an evangelic, catholic, poetic, biblical, charismatic, contemplative, anabaptist, calvinist, anglican, green, incarnational, depressed, unfinished Christian. I love it! He refuses to be put in a box. I’ve worn most of those labels at one time or another in my life, but the idea that I don’t have to take one off to put another one on is refreshing to me. It eliminates a lot of the internal arguments I have with my little pit bull.
He speaks of evangelism; proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ, as a dance! A dance…how wonderful. He talks about nature as God's artwork, God's text, showing us so much about the Creator.
He describes the tension between science and faith this way; “Science sought to explain the world without God, it produced a story without meaning. And Christians, trying to recast the gospel in the language of science and reason, produced a propositional belief system that lost touch with the story that gave it power. I am interested in seeing science and faith as collaborators.”
He reminds me that diversity is a good thing. “Life evolves to thrive in many different niches. The same should be true among Christians,” he says. "We need incredible diversity to fill many, many niches."
And most importantly, he speaks of Christianity as a relationship, not a set of beliefs. He calls for more conversations, and fewer debates.
The pit bull in me doesn’t like this guy. But right, now, he represents, for me, the whisperings of God.
How do I know that this author is right? I don’t. But when I close the book, and look around, I see evidence surrounding me of the truth of his words. And I see even more evidence for why the pit bull must be allowed to die. I want more conversations, more relationships, and the snarling attack dog within me is in the way.
If I am honest, the main reason I kept the pit bull around was because of my fears; fear of being rejected, fear of being wrong, fear of losing the debate, fear that God could not keep me safe. It’s time for me to hear my Risen Lord saying, “Do not be afraid!” It is time to place my faith in God, instead of an internal pit bull.
Christ is risen, and in our midst this morning. How do I know? Because I feel a new life emerging within me. Because I’ve encounter the risen Christ in the writings of a wonderful man. Because I see Christ being made manifest in the love Cherie offers me each day.
And, I know that my redeemer lives, because I see him in each one of you gathered here this morning.
Do not be afraid. He is risen. Alleluia!
Sometime between Friday and this morning, over 2000 years ago, something happened. We don’t know exactly what happened. All we have is the testimony of those who saw evidence of this “something” that first Easter morning. A wandering rabbi by the name of Jesus had been executed by the Romans for the crime of treason. They said he claimed to be king of the Jews.
Three days later, his tomb was found to be empty. Some of his followers told stories of seeing him alive. Throughout his small band of followers spread the message; “He is Risen!” At first, these followers weren’t sure what that meant exactly, except that one they loved, whose loss they had mourned, had somehow appeared once again in their midst.
Over time, this “something” that happened, this event, became the definitive moment in the faith tradition known as Christianity. Eventually it came to be understood to mean something like this; “through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot.”
We are no longer held captive by our fear of death. That is a wonderful thing in and of itself, but is that it? Is that what Easter is all about? Not being afraid to die?
I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t seem to cover the myriad of emotions I feel when confronted with the story of the resurrection. I think overcoming fear is a big part of it, but I’m not sure it is simply overcoming the fear of dying.
In the Gospel account, the risen Christ tells the women, “Do not be afraid.” That’s all well and good for them. If I was able to see Jesus Christ, the son of the living God risen from the grave, I wouldn’t be afraid either!
With those in the Gospel story, we proclaim, “He is risen!” What do we mean by that? If he is risen, then where is he?
It’s time for my thunderstorm story again. A little boy was scared during a thunderstorm. His Mom tried to comfort. “Don’t be scared,” she said. “God will keep you safe.”
“But Mom!” the little boy cried. “Right now, I need a God with skin on!”
Sometimes we all need a God with skin on. In order for this idea, this concept of resurrection and immortality to not just float away, it needs to be concrete; it needs to put on some flesh.
One way of understanding a sacrament, an outward sign of an inward grace, is that these things, wine, bread, water, oil, words, people, in a sense become for us concrete ways that we can hold on to the lofty concepts that they represent. We understand Jesus to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of God. We understand the Church to be the sacrament, the outward and visible sign, of Jesus Christ. We, those who are baptized and filled with the spirit of the living God, are the Church. Each one of us is a living sacrament. Each one of us can be God, with skin on for each other. We can represent the risen Christ to one another.
It isn’t always easy to see Christ in your neighbor. Sometimes it’s because your neighbor is a jerk. But most times, I think we cannot see Christ clearly in others because our own vision has become cloudy. How do we clear our vision?
Friday night I spoke to you about suffering and death, and suggested that sometimes we have to let something die in order to make room for the new thing God might be doing. Sometimes we have to let go of something that we have been clinging to desperately in order to see the risen Christ in our midst.
I spoke of the little pit bull that lives within me, and the need for me to let my old friend die. I mentioned that the reason that now is the time to finally let go of the attack dog inside of me that has kept me safe for so long was because I felt God doing something new within me, and this pit bull, with his growls and long teeth, was barring the way for this new thing.
What is this new thing? I promised you if you came back this morning I’d tell you about it. Now I’m not sure just how to describe it. It’s a particular way to view our relationship with God, and our relationship with each other. It’s not really that new, I suppose. It’s Christianity in its most basic form, actually. It seems that somewhere along the way, most likely while paying too much attention to the barking of my pit bull, I seem to have forgotten some of these basic themes.
I’m relearning this relational approach to God through the writings of one author. Right now, I’m allowing this writer to be God, with skin on, for me.
I’m not going to mention the name of the author who seems to be ushering in a new chapter in my own spiritual life, as some folks might be inclined to run out and buy his books. That would be a mistake. Most likely you would be disappointed. He’s not a great writer, and his ideas are not that novel. He speaks to me right now. I’m not sure he would speak to you.
This guy describes himself as an evangelic, catholic, poetic, biblical, charismatic, contemplative, anabaptist, calvinist, anglican, green, incarnational, depressed, unfinished Christian. I love it! He refuses to be put in a box. I’ve worn most of those labels at one time or another in my life, but the idea that I don’t have to take one off to put another one on is refreshing to me. It eliminates a lot of the internal arguments I have with my little pit bull.
He speaks of evangelism; proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ, as a dance! A dance…how wonderful. He talks about nature as God's artwork, God's text, showing us so much about the Creator.
He describes the tension between science and faith this way; “Science sought to explain the world without God, it produced a story without meaning. And Christians, trying to recast the gospel in the language of science and reason, produced a propositional belief system that lost touch with the story that gave it power. I am interested in seeing science and faith as collaborators.”
He reminds me that diversity is a good thing. “Life evolves to thrive in many different niches. The same should be true among Christians,” he says. "We need incredible diversity to fill many, many niches."
And most importantly, he speaks of Christianity as a relationship, not a set of beliefs. He calls for more conversations, and fewer debates.
The pit bull in me doesn’t like this guy. But right, now, he represents, for me, the whisperings of God.
How do I know that this author is right? I don’t. But when I close the book, and look around, I see evidence surrounding me of the truth of his words. And I see even more evidence for why the pit bull must be allowed to die. I want more conversations, more relationships, and the snarling attack dog within me is in the way.
If I am honest, the main reason I kept the pit bull around was because of my fears; fear of being rejected, fear of being wrong, fear of losing the debate, fear that God could not keep me safe. It’s time for me to hear my Risen Lord saying, “Do not be afraid!” It is time to place my faith in God, instead of an internal pit bull.
Christ is risen, and in our midst this morning. How do I know? Because I feel a new life emerging within me. Because I’ve encounter the risen Christ in the writings of a wonderful man. Because I see Christ being made manifest in the love Cherie offers me each day.
And, I know that my redeemer lives, because I see him in each one of you gathered here this morning.
Do not be afraid. He is risen. Alleluia!
Monday, April 03, 2006
April 3, 2006
In this morning’s Gospel, we hear of two resurrection appearances of Jesus. The Gospels were written to proclaim the Good News to all people. I think that these two resurrection stories are told so close together for a specific reason. They offer a witness to the ability of the resurrection to transform the lives of two very different kinds of people.
First, we have the disciples, minus Thomas, gathered behind a locked door, afraid that if anyone found them, what happened to Jesus would happen to them. They were afraid that they would become Act II, with matching crosses. So they were hiding,
Most of us can identify with this kind of fear. Fear of what might happen. Fear of what someone might do to us. Fear that something might happen to the children. Fear of the stranger. Fear of the unknown.
Our fear of the unknown can lead to our fear of change. If everything is orderly, everything is routine, then we believe we can be safe. Maybe we can, but I think we need to realize that this safety is often based on an illusion. Change is inevitable, no matter what we do.
There was a little boy who was learning to tie his shoes. When he finally mastered this skill, his mother praised him, telling him what a big boy he was now. Suddenly, the young child broke into tears. “What ‘s wrong?” his mother asked. “You should be so proud of yourself! Now you can tie your own shoes just like all the other kids.”
“But Mom!” the boy wailed, “now I’m going to have to do it myself for the rest of my life!”
William Auden once said;
We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And see our illusions die.
Change is inevitable. And maybe we suspect we won’t like it. It’s hard to see our illusions die. But its going to happen anyway. And we have no crystal ball. The fear of the unknown lurking in the misty future is something that no amount of planning, no carefully structured routines, no locked doors or gated communities, can protect us from.
The change in the disciples from the Last Supper to this scene of them huddling in fear is quite dramatic. Jesus was dead, and their world had turned upside down. The future was now completely unknown; but from what they could guess, it was not a very bright.
Then, suddenly, Jesus appears to the disciples in the midst of their fear. He didn’t come to them to take away their fear, but to be present with them in the midst of it. Jesus brought them a word of peace, but not necessarily a word of safety. Most of the disciples went on to face violent deaths. The peace Jesus brought was a peace born of courage. This was a peace that sprung from them seeing who they really were and what they had been called to do.
The situation outside that room did not change. They were still being hunted as criminals. Everything they had been afraid of was still the same. The change happened inside the room; inside each one of them. Jesus said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The spirit of the living God, dwelling within them, transformed these frightened men into messengers who boldly went out into the world proclaiming God’s love revealed through Jesus Christ.
That’s the story of the first resurrection appearance. Now let’s move on to the second one; the one starring Thomas.
Among every culture and every time in history, there are a few people who are unusual in that they seem to not react to fear the same way as the rest of us. Some of these people are the stuff of legends, the heroes of their generation. Their courage often draws us more timid souls to move beyond our fear, and to move forward into the unknown. I think Thomas was one of these types.
Notice that Thomas was not with the rest of the disciples hiding behind a locked door. He didn’t care if he got arrested. He wasn’t going to cower behind some locked door. He had things to do and people to see. He went on about his business.
You might recall earlier, during Jesus earthly ministry, there was a debate among Jesus and his disciples about returning to Judea, where the people had already tried to kill Jesus by stoning him.. Some of the disciples were afraid if they did, they all might be killed. But Jesus was insistent. Finally, Thomas spoke up saying, “Let us all go, that we may die with him.”
We can imagine that Thomas was a brave, no nonsense kind of guy. He was not afraid to face flying stones. After the crucifixion, he was not afraid of being arrested. But, as it is with some people with this kind of strong personality, he was a bit of a cynic. He is known by the label of “doubting Thomas.”
It does take a bit of courage to doubt, doesn’t it? Some people seem to be willing to believe anything, if such beliefs will help them feel safer. Sometimes, I think we are afraid to question some of our beliefs, as we are afraid that we might lose them; we are afraid of we dig too deep, we might somehow lose God. There is a danger of doubting so much that one becomes skeptical of everything. But, for the most part, I think that doubts can often be the springboard for spiritual growth.
The Thomas we meet in the Gospel has become quite the cynic. Here comes his friends, all excited about Jesus suddenly appearing to them. “Yea, right,” thinks Thomas. “The whole thing was a waste of time. We follow this carpenter around, and what happens? He is executed like a common criminal. And now these airheads show up with this bizarre story. They are in denial, big time. Face it fellows. He’s dead! It’s over! Go back to your homes, and get on with your lives!”
But they will not stop jabbering about this ghost they have seen. Finally, in frustration, Thomas shouts, “Look, here’s the deal; unless I can touch the wounds, unless You give me some kind of evidence that he is real, not some phantom projected out of your heads, I’m not buying it. Now leave me alone!”
But, his friends just keep on babbling about it, for all of the next week. Finally, desperate to shut them up, Thomas agrees to return with them to the room.
And Jesus does appear. And Thomas experiences the risen Christ. This strong, courageous cynic drops to his knees, proclaiming, “MY Lord and My God!”
Thomas was transformed that day, as the disciples had been a week before. The cynicism born from doubt was gone. His courage now became even greater. Some early traditions claim that Thomas carried the message of the Gospel as far as India.
I think we need to take to heart these two stories. We might be people bound by fear. Or we might be one of those courageous folk who have become a bit skeptical of those who lean on what we see as false hopes for protection. Regardless of what kind of person, or community, we are, Jesus stands in our midst, offering us peace, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. “Christ comes to Christians regardless of what their quality of life together may be.,” writes Herbert Driscoll. Christ’s unfailing love and unconquerable power penetrates all locked doors. Christ’s presence among us has nothing to do with our deserving his presence, or our willingness to receive it.
Easter sets us free of our fear, and of our bitter cynicism. We are strengthened through the Holy Spirit to affirm that the risen Christ is in our midst. We become bold enough to dare to see the face of the risen Christ in the person sitting next to us this morning. We are empowered to go forth from this place and proclaim that our savior lives, and offers us a life that is deathless and everlasting.
Jesus is saying to each of us today; “Take courage; for I have overcome the world!” This is the message we are called to offer all of humanity. We no longer have to hide in fear. We no longer have to live in bitter cynicism built on broken dreams. We have been given a new spirit, and a new vision, that goes beyond this world. We have been given the gift of God’s love. We have been given God’s spirit, making us the hands of the risen Christ in the world today. Let us proclaim this good news to the world with our every word and deed.
Alleluia Christ is risen!
First, we have the disciples, minus Thomas, gathered behind a locked door, afraid that if anyone found them, what happened to Jesus would happen to them. They were afraid that they would become Act II, with matching crosses. So they were hiding,
Most of us can identify with this kind of fear. Fear of what might happen. Fear of what someone might do to us. Fear that something might happen to the children. Fear of the stranger. Fear of the unknown.
Our fear of the unknown can lead to our fear of change. If everything is orderly, everything is routine, then we believe we can be safe. Maybe we can, but I think we need to realize that this safety is often based on an illusion. Change is inevitable, no matter what we do.
There was a little boy who was learning to tie his shoes. When he finally mastered this skill, his mother praised him, telling him what a big boy he was now. Suddenly, the young child broke into tears. “What ‘s wrong?” his mother asked. “You should be so proud of yourself! Now you can tie your own shoes just like all the other kids.”
“But Mom!” the boy wailed, “now I’m going to have to do it myself for the rest of my life!”
William Auden once said;
We would rather be ruined than changed
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And see our illusions die.
Change is inevitable. And maybe we suspect we won’t like it. It’s hard to see our illusions die. But its going to happen anyway. And we have no crystal ball. The fear of the unknown lurking in the misty future is something that no amount of planning, no carefully structured routines, no locked doors or gated communities, can protect us from.
The change in the disciples from the Last Supper to this scene of them huddling in fear is quite dramatic. Jesus was dead, and their world had turned upside down. The future was now completely unknown; but from what they could guess, it was not a very bright.
Then, suddenly, Jesus appears to the disciples in the midst of their fear. He didn’t come to them to take away their fear, but to be present with them in the midst of it. Jesus brought them a word of peace, but not necessarily a word of safety. Most of the disciples went on to face violent deaths. The peace Jesus brought was a peace born of courage. This was a peace that sprung from them seeing who they really were and what they had been called to do.
The situation outside that room did not change. They were still being hunted as criminals. Everything they had been afraid of was still the same. The change happened inside the room; inside each one of them. Jesus said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The spirit of the living God, dwelling within them, transformed these frightened men into messengers who boldly went out into the world proclaiming God’s love revealed through Jesus Christ.
That’s the story of the first resurrection appearance. Now let’s move on to the second one; the one starring Thomas.
Among every culture and every time in history, there are a few people who are unusual in that they seem to not react to fear the same way as the rest of us. Some of these people are the stuff of legends, the heroes of their generation. Their courage often draws us more timid souls to move beyond our fear, and to move forward into the unknown. I think Thomas was one of these types.
Notice that Thomas was not with the rest of the disciples hiding behind a locked door. He didn’t care if he got arrested. He wasn’t going to cower behind some locked door. He had things to do and people to see. He went on about his business.
You might recall earlier, during Jesus earthly ministry, there was a debate among Jesus and his disciples about returning to Judea, where the people had already tried to kill Jesus by stoning him.. Some of the disciples were afraid if they did, they all might be killed. But Jesus was insistent. Finally, Thomas spoke up saying, “Let us all go, that we may die with him.”
We can imagine that Thomas was a brave, no nonsense kind of guy. He was not afraid to face flying stones. After the crucifixion, he was not afraid of being arrested. But, as it is with some people with this kind of strong personality, he was a bit of a cynic. He is known by the label of “doubting Thomas.”
It does take a bit of courage to doubt, doesn’t it? Some people seem to be willing to believe anything, if such beliefs will help them feel safer. Sometimes, I think we are afraid to question some of our beliefs, as we are afraid that we might lose them; we are afraid of we dig too deep, we might somehow lose God. There is a danger of doubting so much that one becomes skeptical of everything. But, for the most part, I think that doubts can often be the springboard for spiritual growth.
The Thomas we meet in the Gospel has become quite the cynic. Here comes his friends, all excited about Jesus suddenly appearing to them. “Yea, right,” thinks Thomas. “The whole thing was a waste of time. We follow this carpenter around, and what happens? He is executed like a common criminal. And now these airheads show up with this bizarre story. They are in denial, big time. Face it fellows. He’s dead! It’s over! Go back to your homes, and get on with your lives!”
But they will not stop jabbering about this ghost they have seen. Finally, in frustration, Thomas shouts, “Look, here’s the deal; unless I can touch the wounds, unless You give me some kind of evidence that he is real, not some phantom projected out of your heads, I’m not buying it. Now leave me alone!”
But, his friends just keep on babbling about it, for all of the next week. Finally, desperate to shut them up, Thomas agrees to return with them to the room.
And Jesus does appear. And Thomas experiences the risen Christ. This strong, courageous cynic drops to his knees, proclaiming, “MY Lord and My God!”
Thomas was transformed that day, as the disciples had been a week before. The cynicism born from doubt was gone. His courage now became even greater. Some early traditions claim that Thomas carried the message of the Gospel as far as India.
I think we need to take to heart these two stories. We might be people bound by fear. Or we might be one of those courageous folk who have become a bit skeptical of those who lean on what we see as false hopes for protection. Regardless of what kind of person, or community, we are, Jesus stands in our midst, offering us peace, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. “Christ comes to Christians regardless of what their quality of life together may be.,” writes Herbert Driscoll. Christ’s unfailing love and unconquerable power penetrates all locked doors. Christ’s presence among us has nothing to do with our deserving his presence, or our willingness to receive it.
Easter sets us free of our fear, and of our bitter cynicism. We are strengthened through the Holy Spirit to affirm that the risen Christ is in our midst. We become bold enough to dare to see the face of the risen Christ in the person sitting next to us this morning. We are empowered to go forth from this place and proclaim that our savior lives, and offers us a life that is deathless and everlasting.
Jesus is saying to each of us today; “Take courage; for I have overcome the world!” This is the message we are called to offer all of humanity. We no longer have to hide in fear. We no longer have to live in bitter cynicism built on broken dreams. We have been given a new spirit, and a new vision, that goes beyond this world. We have been given the gift of God’s love. We have been given God’s spirit, making us the hands of the risen Christ in the world today. Let us proclaim this good news to the world with our every word and deed.
Alleluia Christ is risen!
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