"Take up your cross."

Homily for Sunday, August 31, 2014

"Take up your cross and follow me."  When we think of the cross as an instrument of torture and death, Jesus's instruction to us does not sound very appealing. Even metaphorically speaking, the idea of "having a cross to bear" suggests a true burden. If we adjust our view of the cross, however, to consider what it meant to Jesus, we may be surprised. For Jesus, the cross was the fulfillment of his mission on earth. By bearing the cross with humility and courage, Jesus demonstrated what it truly means to serve others in the ultimate sacrifice of self.

            "Take up your cross and follow me." Jesus never tells anyone to worship him. More than once, as he does here, he asks us to follow him.  Do what I do, he says.  Love one another and show by your actions that you mean it.

            "Take up your cross and follow me."   Jesus says YOUR cross.  He doesn't say, "Take up my cross." We are NOT being asked to bear the kind of cross that Jesus bore, or to make the ultimate sacrifice. We ARE being asked to identify a pressing need before us and to do what we can to address that need.  On any given day, our cross is the most important task we are given to do. It is our best opportunity to demonstrate Christ's love to someone in need of that love.

            Today's epistle is an excerpt from Paul's letter to the Romans, and it is actually a good description of what Christian love looks like: 

Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord." No, "if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads." Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.   [Romans 12:9-21]

            Why can giving others love be considered a cross?  Because it's not always easy to love, as Paul suggests. Love requires patience, empathy, humility, and a willingness to serve, even a willingness to serve those we consider our enemies. Christian love is genuine and impartial. We are told it's a love that extends to people whose behaviors we may consider sinful. In fact, it's a love that does NOT consider what others do or don't do. It's hard work! It's the kind of hard work I see people in this community doing all the time.  For example, just this past Tuesday, Doug Graves, Phil Sterbling and Kevin Tucker installed a new handicapped-accessible toilet in the bathroom here in the chapel. If that's not taking up a difficult cross, I don't know what is!

            On Wednesday of this week, Doug, Dave, and I will travel to Spotsylvania Courthouse for a meeting of Region I of the Diocese of Virginia. Our purpose is to request that the Diocese continue to support Graves Chapel as a mission church. Our reason for doing this is that Piedmont Episcopal Church in Madison, which has long been our sponsor church in the region, is no longer able to support us. We hope to convince the Diocese, and in particular our region, to provide what we need in order to keep our doors open.

            For my part, I plan to tell the story of Graves Chapel and all the ways I see evidence here of people following the path of Christ and serving others.

            I've already mentioned Doug Graves. If you don't know how much he does around here, please consider. Doug does all of the mowing and landscaping that gets done on the chapel grounds. If there is a needed service or repair, Doug will quietly complete the repair and pay for it as well. In addition to all of the labor for the Lord that Doug performs here, we can also thank him for the brochures he has made available. We are very grateful, as well, to Joe Rowe, whose extraordinary generosity has made possible the many recent upgrades to the chapel. When those upgrades have happened--when the electrician was here to replace all of the wiring, the fans, the lights, for example--Doug was here with him, helping with the work and making sure it was done right.

            Our good neighbor Dreama Travis also gives of her time, talent, and treasure to keep the chapel going. She has brought so much beauty into the chapel with her eye for decorating. When the chapel needed to be spruced up for its inclusion in Garden Week a few years ago, Dreama organized those efforts and did much of the work herself. Just last Sunday, when we had a service of baptism in the Kinsey Run, Dreama brought vases of flowers to decorate the chapel for that special event.

            Carolyn Lamb has been driving from Greene County to play her guitar and lead us in song ever since I first began these services here. She brings the chapel to life with the joy of the old-time hymns we sing, and she does this as a volunteer. This service is the second of three services Carolyn attends on Sundays, and when she leaves here, she and her husband Nelson (who has also been a faithful supporter of the chapel) head over the mountain to Elkton, where Carolyn will play in another service.  Last winter, when health issues kept them at home for a few months, the services seemed very bleak without Carolyn and Nelson.

            Phil Sterbling, as I said earlier, worked with Doug to replace the toilet this week. There are so many more things Phil and Karen have done for the chapel over the years. They've contributed the tables and chairs, and they have worked to get the chapel organized, decorated and ready for the annual Christmas dinners. When David and I came to clean the chapel before our wedding in 2011, Phil was here to help us clean.            

            There are so many more things the people of this valley have done to take up the crosses placed before them and serve their neighbors with love. When Cecil Berry was in need of assistance, the whole community rallied around him, and Michelle Smith, Dreama, and Judy Berry took special care of him, taking him meals and driving him to appointments.

            We hope and pray Graves Chapel will continue to be the center of this very special, Christ-filled community.

AMEN.

Your Kingdom Come!

Homily for Sunday, July 27, 2014    Graves Chapel

Once upon a time, some seekers from the city went out into the wilderness to find a holy man who lived as a hermit. When they arrived at his small hut, they said to him, "Help us to find God."  But the old hermit shook his head and said, "No one can help you there."  The astonished seekers demanded, "Why not?"

And the hermit replied, "For the same reason that no one can help the fish to find the ocean."

            We may identify with the seekers in this story.  Where is God in our daily lives?  Why does God often seem far away?  How do we properly ask for help in getting closer to God?

            The first words of petition in the Lord's Prayer are "Thy kingdom come."  We are so much in the habit of repeating the familiar words of this prayer that we may not think about what it means. I'm sure we don't consider exactly what we are requesting when we ask God to bring his kingdom to reign on earth. Since both the petition and its verb are in the present tense, we ask God to bring his kingdom right here, right now, whenever we repeat the words, "Thy (or your) Kingdom come."

            And what is that kingdom?  The words "the kingdom," "the kingdom of God" or the "kingdom of heaven" are used 150 times in the New Testament, most often said by Jesus himself.  When I made a Google search of the phrase, the resulting document was ten pages long!  Clearly, what Jesus calls the kingdom is of major importance to Him, as evidenced by the words he placed so prominently in the prayer which he taught his disciples--"Your kingdom come." Here are a few more examples:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

"As you go, preach this message: "The kingdom of heaven is near."

"The time has come. The kingdom of God is near."

"The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor will people say 'Here it is' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within you."

Is it possible that thinking about heaven as something we have to wait for and earn is not what Jesus had in mind?  How many times does Jesus have to tell us that the kingdom of God is nearby, even within us, before we believe him?  As the resurrected Lord departed from his disciples, he told them, "I will be with you always, to the end of time." When we make ourselves present to God we find that God is very much present with us.  Doesn't that sound like the kingdom that has come?  I'm reminded of the old saying about not being able to see the forest for the trees. Or, as in the story of the hermit and the seekers, we are like the fish in the ocean. We are in the middle of heaven every minute and we fail to recognize the place.

            Jesus alludes to this very conundrum--of our not seeing what is all around us--in the gospel parables for today. He speaks metaphorically about the kingdom, and in each case, the kingdom of heaven is compared to something contained within a larger entity as we are contained in God, like a fish in the ocean or a treasure buried in a field. On behalf of his disciples, and we should count ourselves in that number, Jesus made this request of God: [John 21:17]:  "As you Father are in me, and I in you, so also may they be in us..." Being contained within God was a difficult concept for the disciples to grasp, as it is for us, so Jesus made some interesting comparisons.

            He tells of the mustard, the tiniest of seeds, planted within the soil--and from that small, enshrouded beginning, it grows into a tree large enough "for birds to come and roost among its branches." The mustard seed enters the soil, which contains and nurtures it, just as we are contained in and nurtured by God. If that relationship is fruitful, anything can be possible, like a tree growing from that minute seed and making a welcoming home for birds.  Once the seed sprouts and the roots extend in all directions, can we imagine the plant without the soil?  So it is for us, as we are planted in God.

            And then there is this parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."  Ah, the making of bread, and the fragrance of yeast bread fresh from the oven!  What can be more heavenly?  Yeast, however, is a microscopic organism, much tinier than a mustard seed.  When yeast is dissolved in water and thoroughly mixed into flour, only then will the bread rise. Again, something that seems small and inconsequential is contained within an agent that transforms it. Once again, it is impossible to imagine the bread without the yeast. Jesus says that in this very way, like yeast in a loaf of risen bread, we are contained within God.  Not only are we contained in God, but it is God who gives our lives purpose and meaning.

            The New Testament has also been called the New Covenant, and a covenant is a legally-binding promise.  The words of the promise Jesus made to his disciples--that he would be with them always--is the same promise He makes to us. The message of this promise is powerfully illustrated for us by Paul in today's memorable verses from his Letter to the Romans: "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

            Nothing can separate us from God's love. Sometimes we may feel there is a vast distance between us and the powerful deity who parted the waters of the Red Sea. Sometimes we don't feel worthy of God's love, and we feel we have not earned it. When we feel distanced from God, we can remember that we are the ones who have turned our faces away.  When we refocus our attention on God, we find that God has been there all along. As Paul says, the Spirit is even there to teach us to pray when we don't know how and need some coaching. The message of the New Covenant is that all distance has been erased by God's loving mercy and grace. God and his Kingdom are right here with us...right now.           

           

The Collect:

O God, the protector of all who trust in you, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy: Increase and multiply upon us your mercy; that, with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Sacrifice of Children

Homily for Sunday, June 29, 2014    Graves Chapel

Indignation. Outrage. Those words describe the reactions I've observed from parents when they discuss our Old Testament lesson for today. How could Abraham have taken his beloved little boy, the child of his old age, up on that mountain and prepared him for sacrifice?  How could he raise his arm with knife in hand and even begin to contemplate lowering that knife into his son's flesh? Without exception, people say, "I could never have done that." Count me in that number. I can't even imagine it.

            The usual interpretation of this incident is that Abraham's faith is being tested. In fact, the first words of the passage from Genesis 22 are "God tested Abraham." Since Abraham obediently follows God's instructions, he passes the test. Through Abraham, God shows us in an unforgettable way that our complete trusting faith in God will be rewarded in unexpected ways.

            But if the near-sacrifice of Isaac illustrates Abraham's faithful obedience, how do we explain his actual sacrifice of his older, illegitimate son Ishmael?  In case you've forgotten that part of the story, both Abraham and his wife Sarah were very old--Sarah past childbearing age--when Isaac was born to them. Some ten years before Isaac's birth, Sarah tells Abraham that he should sire a child with her young servant Hagar since she herself is unable to bear him a child. From that union, Hagar bears a son for Abraham who is named Ishmael, and Abraham loves the boy. After Isaac is born, Sarah's jealousy of Hagar and her child overwhelms her.  She fears that Isaac will not be first in his father's heart, so she demands that Abraham send Hagar and the boy away, and that is what he does. Abraham gives Hagar some bread and a skin of water and takes them out to the desert. As far as Abraham is concerned, his son Ishmael is dead.

            After the bread and water are consumed, Hagar places the boy Ishmael under a bush and sits opposite him "a good way off" so that she doesn't have to watch her son die. But an angel appears to Hagar, shows her a well, and tells her not to fear for her son because God plans to "make a great nation of him." [Genesis 21:8-21] Jews trace their lineage back to Abraham through Isaac, but Muslims (that other preordained nation) trace their line to Abraham through Ishmael--the son who truly was sacrificed by his father.

            What are we to make of these stories about a father who sacrifices his sons?  Is the ultimate takeaway that God will make everything all right in the end?  Since we live in a world where Jews and Muslims are often at odds (to put it mildly), we may still be waiting for God's peace to prevail. At the very least, in our modern lingo, we might wonder if Ishmael and Isaac both suffered terrible psychological scars from their common experience of having a father who was willing to kill them.  Those unhealed wounds may still reverberate.

            But there is another way to understand this complicated story. Since Abraham sent Ishmael into the desert some years before he took Isaac up on the mountain with a bundle of sticks and a knife, surely the story of Isaac is the definitive one. Set some 2000 years before the birth of Christ, the story of Abraham and Isaac may actually be about the beginnings of civilized life, as we think of it today. Abraham lived in a place where he was surrounded by what the Bible calls pagans, and the sacrifice of children was common practice among the pagan peoples. When God requires Abraham to stage a child sacrifice but then orders him to STOP before he can "lay" his hand on the boy, we may interpret a lesson for succeeding generations: God says that His people will no longer sacrifice other human beings.

            Even so, today we live in a world, this advanced and highly civilized world, where children's lives are sacrificed every day. We like to think that the too-frequent practice of parents selling their children--often to horrific ends--takes place only in faraway lands. But even here in the United States, children are sacrificed.  Sometimes that happens when parents have such rigid expectations of their children that they are pushed onto certain paths at very young ages. Think of child beauty contestants or athletes, like Tiger Woods, who was on the Tonight Show demonstrating his golf skills when he was only two years old. It isn't difficult to imagine that the adult lives of such children might take a different and healthier path if they are not sacrificed to the dreams and egos of their parents.

            Still, it isn't just parents in our country that are sometimes guilty of sacrificing their children. As a society, we share a collective guilt for child sacrifice. According to the latest statistics on child poverty (from the Children's Defense Fund), one in five children lives in poverty in the U.S. Although we hope and pray that they will rise above the difficulties of their young lives as they grow to adulthood, it is hard to ignore what that statistic suggests--children who are malnourished, who are either homeless or live in substandard housing, who attend under-funded schools, if they attend school at all. Poor children are far more likely to be exposed to violence and abuse than more affluent children. They are also more likely to be neglected. As caring people, and as Christians, we try to do what we can for the poor, but I urge us not to forget the sacrificed dreams and lives of these precious ones that Jesus called "the least among us"--who were most favored by Him.           

AMEN.

On Suffering

 Homily for Sunday, May 25, 2014    Buck Mountain Church and Graves Chapel

Lessons:

Acts 17:22-31

Psalm 66:7-18

1 Peter 3:13-22

John 14:15-21

            The collect for today--and what it says about God's love for us--is one of my very favorite collects of the entire church year.  In fact, it's worth repeating: O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good things as surpass our understanding: Pour into our hearts such love towards you, that we, loving you in all things and above all things, may obtain your promises, which exceed all that we can desire.  Paired with today's gospel lesson, in which Jesus promises to love us and be with us always in the form of the Holy Spirit, there are no clearer words to be found about the nature of God's relationship with his people. God loves us lavishly.

            In the epistle, Peter writes about God's love as well, but from a surprising perspective. Peter writes about the way God suffers because of His love for us. God suffers when we stray from the paths we know we should follow, when we do things that cause pain for ourselves or for others. Even when we feel God punishes us for our errors, anything we suffer is matched by the suffering God feels on our behalf.

            If I were really smart, I would stick with the love theme and avoid touching on suffering, even with a ten-foot pole, as the saying goes.  No one wants to talk about why God allows bad things to happen in the world, especially when he suffers with us--that is just too hard to understand.

            In theological terms there is actually a special name for the branch of philosophy that concerns itself with trying to explain why a God we consider all-loving and all-powerful permits bad things to happen. The term, dating back to 1710, is theodicy, but some of the arguments around the issue date to the early centuries of Christianity. Theologians as well as everyday Christians have always pondered this question.  I've known some people who have lost their faith in God when something bad has happened to them or someone they love.  So, please consider these words my disclaimer and bear with me as I take the dangerous plunge into theodicy.

            First, I want to reassert my belief that God does not cause bad things to happen in the world.  Everything from wars to typhoons, from accidents to illnesses happen because the world is a complicated and messy place. If anything, rather than causing the bad things, God does everything in His power to mitigate the injury and destruction.  Remember, he suffers when we suffer, so turning the bad into something good is more in God's line of work. The question then becomes--what is the difference between causing something bad or simply allowing it to happen? 

            When I read the epistle from Peter--and how many times have I read this passage before?--I begin to have a glimpse of an answer to this question. Isn't that the way with scripture and the reason to keep revisiting it?  God's words seem to open themselves to us as we have need of them.

            The most important, and surely the most obvious, thing Peter says about suffering is that Christ suffered on our behalf--"the righteous for the unrighteous"--when he died on the cross. What else but God's great love for us motivated Him to send His Son into the world to die an excruciating death for us? Before he was arrested and sent to the cross, Jesus prayed these words in the Garden: "Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done." God, made manifest in the human form of his son Jesus Christ, is willing to suffer the worst kind of pain and death because he loves human creatures and chooses to suffer with them. The fact that God himself had to suffer on the cross illustrates something about suffering--that it is inevitable and unavoidable. When we pray for comfort in times of sorrow or for healing when we feel pain, we can be assured that we pray to a God who fully comprehends how we are feeling. God has been there--and has been there suffering with each of us from the beginning of time.

            Peter also says, "...if you do suffer for doing what is right, you are blessed...for it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God's will, than to suffer for doing evil."  Why on earth does Peter say our suffering is a blessing?

            I believe the answer to this riddle is illustrated in the crucifixion and in Christ's words in the Garden. Love itself is God's greatest gift to us--and our greatest blessing.  Yet love is at the root of all our suffering just as it was love that brought Christ to the cross.

            Why do I say that love is at the root of suffering?  Please consider with me.  How do we feel when we hear news of a tornado a thousand miles away that has ripped a school apart and extinguished the lives of young children?....Why do tears come to our eyes when we read of the heroic deeds of a soldier who gave up his own life to save his comrades?...How do we feel when a loved one--a child or spouse or parent--is ill and we are not able to do anything to relieve the pain?...How do we feel when we are separated, by either physical or emotional distance, from someone we love deeply?   Love has immense power, doesn't it?

            I've often thought that one good reason for children to have pets is so they learn a little about the pain of losing a loved one when they experience the death of a beloved pet.  That kind of suffering is also very difficult, however.  I still get sad when I think of losing my cat Frisky, who came into my life when I was seven years old.

            Whether we've considered it or not, our love of ourselves is also deeply connected to our suffering.  If we did not love ourselves and the life we've been given, why would we worry about our own illnesses or the pain we feel over the suffering of a loved one? If we didn't love ourselves, why would we have any concern about our personal integrity--about doing the right thing?  Whether we want to admit it or not, on some level, don't we do good things not just so we can appear to be righteous in the eyes of God and our neighbor, but also so we can feel good about ourselves?

            The hopeful news, ultimately, is that as we grow older and grow in faith, both love and goodness become habits for us--often in spite of suffering.

            In today's gospel lesson, Jesus says to his disciples, "If you love me you will keep my commandments."  He might also have said, "If you love as I love, you will keep my commandments." Doesn't the idea that it is because we are capable of love that we are also capable of suffering shed a new light on what Jesus called the two great commandments?  "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself."  [Matthew 22:37-40]  Love begins and flows lavishly from God, and it is an empathetic love, suffering when we suffer and rejoicing when we rejoice. It should be easy for us to respond in kind, to love God with all our heart. Right? That's the expectation, at least. From there, can we find a balance between loving others and ourselves?  As today's collect states, in this way we "obtain" God's "promises."  Loving others as ourselves involves both empathy for the other and also a healthy love for self.

            Accepting love--and the price of love--is nothing but God's grace. Believing that, we can say with Julian of Norwich, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."   AMEN.

Easter rabbits and colored eggs?

Homily for  Sunday, April 27, 2014              Graves Chapel

           

            I know this isn't supposed to be show and tell, but I really want to share this little book with you today. It is called The Country Bunny and the Little Gold Shoes, and when I open it up, the name printed inside the front cover is that of my dear aunt, Mabel: Miss Estes. The little inscription tells me so much. My aunt Mabel is the one from whom I inherited my calling to be a teacher. Mabel began her teaching career in the late 1930s at the Wolftown Elementary School.  After teaching in Wolftown for a few years, she moved to Northern Virginia and taught kindergarten and first grade in Fairfax County for many years.

            After she passed away and I got her house ready to sell, I found this little book among her things and just had to keep it. I have vivid memories of her reading this book to me--more than one Easter--when I was a child, and it remains one of my favorite picture books. The fact that it is labeled "Miss Estes" to identify the owner tells me that my aunt must have read this little book to her students, and I bet some of them loved it as much as I still do.

            The rabbit of the title is first described in the story as "a little country girl bunny," and maybe that's one reason why Mabel and I both found this story appealing--we both began our lives as little country girls born right here in Graves Mill.  Ultimately, though, the humble origin of this little rabbit is not what this story is about. It's a story about Easter.

            In this story, we learn there are five Easter bunnies, not just one.  As a little girl bunny, the main character announces that she wants to grow up to become one of the five Easter bunnies, but the big white rabbits and the tough Jack rabbits all laugh at her and tell her to "go home and eat a carrot."  They tell her to forget her dream.  And, for a while, she does forget. She grows up and gets married and has 21 little baby rabbits. Being very organized and a very good mother, she has a happy home, and she teaches her little ones how to help with all the household chores and how to behave appropriately.

            One day she hears that a new Easter bunny has to be selected since one of the five current bunnies is going to retire. Try-outs for the job will be held at the Palace of Easter Eggs where the wise old Grandfather Bunny will choose the new Easter bunny. The selection is based on several important criteria: Every Easter bunny must be wise and kind and swift.  Our little country bunny, who with her large family has given up on the idea of becoming an Easter bunny, decides to take her 21 children with her to watch the try-outs. Who knows? Maybe one of them will grow up to be an Easter bunny!  Well, since I hope you may decide to read this book someday to your children or grandchildren, I won't tell the rest of the story. Suffice it to say that the country bunny learns that an Easter bunny not only has to be swift and wise and kind, but also brave and self-sacrificing.

            Sometimes these days I hear people grumbling about the commercialization of Easter, about the silliness of Easter bunnies and dying Easter eggs. Since the rabbit and the eggs have sadly become, for many Americans, the only part of Easter they still observe, I sympathize with such grumbling. It is a real shame that we often seem to have forgotten the true meaning of Easter.  It is also a shame that most of us, even we Christians, don't fully appreciate the lessons about Easter that the rabbit and the eggs were originally intended to illustrate.

            The tradition of the Easter rabbit began centuries ago in Germany, among the early Lutherans, who associated with the Virgin Mary the legend of a hare who could lay eggs and mother many offspring while still a virgin. This Easter hare, or "Osterhase," can be seen in medieval paintings, illuminated manuscripts and other art placed next to Mary and the infant Jesus. The legend became custom, and German children would prepare nests of grass inside their bonnets or caps so that the Osterhase would have a place to lay her eggs, delivered to good children on Easter morning. This custom, now evolved into our Easter baskets, was brought to our country in the early 1700s by the Pennsylvania Dutch.

            And, you may ask, what is the source of the colored eggs? Catholics, Lutherans, Episcopalians and other orthodox churches traditionally fast during Lent.  In medieval times, to preserve any eggs from being wasted during the fast, they were boiled or roasted. Often they were painted to separate them from fresh, unroasted eggs. On Easter morning, when the Lenten fast was broken, the painted eggs were a special treat.

            These two Easter traditions, passed down now for centuries, symbolize some basic elements of our belief in the Resurrection.  Jesus died on the cross to save us, and he arose from the grave to give us the promise of eternal life. The life-giving productivity of the Easter hare is a perfect representation of that abundant life promised to all of us. The colored eggs, consumed at the end of the Lenten fast, illustrate how our faith is life-renewing. Easter is celebrated in springtime in the Northern Hemisphere, where these traditions originated in Europe and where we live in America. Easter and its celebration of the Resurrection, like spring and the greening and blossoming of the earth, remind us that life is everlasting. The very fact that these centuries-old traditions are still carried on every Easter, as if bringing those Easter baskets out of the attic or a closet is itself a kind of resurrection, is a powerful reminder for us and for our children that life is eternal.

            Today, the second Sunday in the season of Easter, we have two lessons in the words of Peter, apostle and founder of the church.  Peter reminds the early Christians that Jesus Christ not only taught us how to live our lives--"You have made known to me the ways of life; you will make me full of gladness with your presence"--but Jesus has also illustrated for us how to overcome death.  Alleluia indeed! As Peter proclaims to the crowd [in Acts 2:22-32], “God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power.”  Let me repeat that: It was impossible for death to hold Jesus in its power.

            In his first letter, Peter writes, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead... Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls."

             Theologian Richard Rohr explains how our faith offers us the blessed assurance of eternal life in this way: It seems that we are born with a longing, desire, and deep hope that this thing called life could somehow last forever. It is a premonition from Something Eternal that is already within us. Some would call it the soul. Believers would call it the indwelling presence of God. It is God in us that makes us desire God. It is an eternal life already within us that makes us imagine eternal life.... God, by every religion’s best definition, is love (1 John 4:16). What follows, of course, is that if we are God’s creatures, then love is what we are too, at our deepest core and final identity. When we live consciously within this love, we will not be afraid to die, because love is eternal, and that core self is indestructible. “Love never ends” (1 Corinthians 13:8). [endquote]

            Jesus said we must become like little children if we want to enter the kingdom of heaven. I think he meant that we must have the all-trusting faith of a little child to believe in that much love.  Maybe the children in our lives, and the inner child in each of us, can allow bunny rabbits and painted eggs and the joy of Easter morning to strengthen our faith in the resurrection--and in God's love that made it possible.

AMEN.

           

What would Jesus have us see?

Park Street Christian Church and Graves Chapel            Sunday, March 30, 2014

Lessons:

Psalm 23

1 Samuel 16:1-13

Ephesians 5:8-14

John 9:1-41

            Have you had the experience of losing something, looking high and low for it, and then finding it in the very first place you looked, right where you left it? This happens so much at my house that my husband calls it "front of the shelf syndrome."  We think it’s interesting that I can find his lost items much more easily than I can find my own--and vice versa.  I believe this says a lot about selective seeing.  I don't think "selective seeing" is the kind of seeing Jesus wants from us.  In fact, selective seeing is a kind of half-blindness.  There is enough light to see by, but our eyes are doing their own thing.

                        Please imagine for a moment what true darkness was like in the Palestine that Jesus knew.  We live surrounded by so much artificial light that it can be difficult to ponder how very dark it must have been in the evenings of Jesus's childhood, especially in the winter when days were short.  Darkness must have felt almost palpable to people who lived in ancient times.  How splendid that the birth of the infant Jesus was heralded by a brilliant star!  It should not surprise us that this infant would grow up to be called "the light of the world."  In the world we've come to know as Jesus's world, circumscribed by a very few miles and revealed to us by the stories of his travels and his works, who are the ones that see by his light?

            Images of light and seeing and their opposites, those of darkness and blindness, pervade not only today's lessons, but many other verses in scripture as well.  Sometimes the words of Jesus, couched in metaphor or parable, can seem inscrutable, but one thing is clear: the kind of seeing presented in scripture isn't just about the use of one's eyes, and those who are blind are not necessarily suffering from loss of physical vision.

            In today's gospel lesson from John, the man born blind becomes a seer, while the Pharisees, caught up in their rigid rules and outward righteousness, are unwilling to see the great healing miracle before their eyes. The Pharisees choose to be blind to the truth when it is not the truth they prefer.  Selective seeing…

            We can certainly find other gospel stories to illustrate the way the Lord chooses to see and would have us see.  Here are opposite examples of selective seeing in one famous parable. A priest and a Levite hurry past a gravely wounded man, robbed, beaten, and left for dead by the side of the road.  Their self-importance blinds them to his great need, and they choose to ignore him, but a Samaritan sees the wounded man with the eyes of his heart, and that Samaritan does all he can to help him. We could also say that the Lord sees with the eyes of the heart. Jesus wants us to see with compassion, to put our own hearts in contact with the hearts of others, the ones we encounter who need our care.

            When I pass by a homeless person standing by a stop sign and asking for a handout, I sometimes catch myself thinking unkind thoughts about him—a way of making excuses for why I don’t stop my car and offer real help, a way of choosing not to see him. Since we humans more often behave like the Pharisees and the priest and Levite than like the Samaritan, Jesus actually says very clearly in one passage what kind of seeing he expects from us:  "How can you say to your neighbor, 'Friend, let me take the speck out of your eye,' when you yourself do not see the log in your own eye?"  Isn't this an interesting way to say that we are much more likely to find fault with others than with ourselves? By using the eyes as the central image, Jesus asks us to consider observing ourselves more closely than we observe others.  He asks us to turn a light on the glaring faults within ourselves rather than so willingly seeing the minor faults of others and criticizing them.  Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living."  Jesus says much the same when he asks us to recognize our blind and unloving spots.

            In his letter to the community at Ephesus, Paul writes that Jesus is the light of the world and that he has come to free us from all darkness--from the darkness of despair, the darkness of poverty and hunger, the darkness of danger and oppression, the darkness of injury and illness. When we ourselves choose, as the priest and the Levite did, to be blind to the needs of those around us, we are shutting out the light. The light of Jesus is the light of love, and it dispels the darkness. As Paul so beautifully puts it, "Once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light, for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true."

            "All that is good and right and true...” Aren’t those words simply beautiful? There is nothing inconsequential in God’s creation, nothing outside the attention of a loving God. As Jesus tells us in Matthew 10, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the Father.” We humans may devalue many of God’s creatures, not seeing their worth, but we are told the hairs on our head are numbered and God’s eye is on the sparrow.  This kind of love, which expresses itself as protective tenderness, is also described in Jesus’s parable about the lost sheep: “If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray.”  (Matthew 18:12-13)   For Jesus, seeing is not just passive; it involves active looking and finding.  If we are the lost sheep, then we certainly have done nothing to earn that persistent seeking of the Lord. We are just muddling through life as best we can, wandering wide of the mark on most days, and yet the Lord seeks us out and returns us to His gracious protection. His is “selective seeing” of an entirely different order of magnitude!

            Sometimes for us, the issue is more about blindness than seeing, about what we can’t see rather than what we don’t see.  Thankfully, we have the apostle Thomas to be our test case. He, of course, hears from his fellow apostles about the appearance of the Risen Lord, and since Thomas hasn’t been present when the Lord has appeared, he says he won’t believe the Lord is risen until he sees the nail-scarred hands.  I’ve never been sure it is fair to call Thomas “doubting.”  His question is one any reasonable person might ask, and because he asks the question, he gets a direct response from Jesus:  “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.” (John 20:29) 

            That blessing brings two things to mind. One is that faith itself is a blessing, and the interaction between Thomas and Jesus underscores the way we receive the gift of faith.  We may not see the pierced, resurrected body of Christ in the same way Thomas saw him, but we do see Jesus every day of our lives, if we look for him.  We see him in the faces of those who need us, in the eyes of those who seek us, in the hearts of those we love.   As Psalm 23 so beautifully reminds us, the Lord is our shepherd, and he is always near.

Psalm 23 Page 612, BCP

Dominus regit me

1

The LORD is my shepherd; *

I shall not be in want.

2

He makes me lie down in green pastures *

and leads me beside still waters.

3

He revives my soul *

and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

4

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I shall fear no evil; *

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5

You spread a table before me in the presence of those

who trouble me; *

you have anointed my head with oil,

and my cup is running over.

6

Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days

of my life, *

and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

AMEN.

           

What Does Love Have to Do With It? Everything!

Homily for Sunday, February 23, 2014                    Graves Chapel

Matthew 5:38-48

Jesus said, "You have heard that it was said, `An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.

"You have heard that it was said, `You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

My brother, who sometimes comes to these services, calls me “the prophet of love.” Now, since he is my big brother, Larry’s intention is to tease me, but I don’t mind.  I don’t believe I’m the prophet of love, but our gospel lesson for today includes the words of the one who was the greatest prophet of love the world has ever known. Who else but Jesus would say, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy,’ but I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…”?  All of the actions as well as the words of the one we call Jesus were filled with love. He lived what he preached, turning the other cheek to Pilate and Herod, praying for his persecutors, extending the hand of love to reputed sinners, healing those who seemed incurable, and restoring the dead to life.  His life was a miracle of love.

            But some of the words about love in today’s lesson offer a real challenge to those of us who want to emulate Christ’s love.  It is really hard to turn the other cheek when someone wounds us. Some wounds are just not easy to forgive. And how many of us would find it easy to give all that we have to others in need?  I think everyone here is willing to give a coat to someone who needs it, but would we give our last warm article of clothing?  Just what does Jesus mean when he tells us to be perfect? After all, we are just human.  Can we really love others the way that Christ loves us?

When I was thinking about how to explain the kind of love that Jesus exemplifies, I thought of his first miracle at the wedding in Cana. I think this miracle doesn’t get enough attention. Since it isn’t one of the extraordinary healings, it seems rather pedestrian. The whole changing water into wine episode has been an uncomfortable story, unfortunately, for some churches that forbid the use of alcohol. Back in the days when this chapel was a Baptist church and I was a child here, I remember being told that what the people of Jesus’s day called wine was really more like grape juice. And grape juice was what we got at communion here. Each of us had a little sip of grape juice from a tiny cup; there was no shared chalice and no wine. I’m still not much of a wine drinker, but I think drinking the blood of Christ from a shared chalice of wine is a better reenactment of the Last Supper it is supposed to commemorate. Sharing bread and wine at the Lord’s table is the most important action we Christians undertake to demonstrate we are all members of the same body—the body of Christ, the body of the church, one family.  (But I do admit that, when our mother had to put things away after communion here, Larry and I raced to drain the leftover grape juice from all of the untouched glasses.)

            What if instead of discounting the first miracle, when Jesus changed water into wine at a wedding reception, we embraced it for all it has to teach us?  Remember, it was Jesus’s mother Mary, after all, who instigated the miracle.  Don’t you love that scene? They are at a family wedding, and when the wine runs out, Mary wants to save her relatives from embarrassment, so she tells Jesus to do something! He initially resists, but then asks for several jugs of water. And he doesn’t just change all of that water into any old wine. The steward who tastes it acclaims it to be the best wine. In that scene, the importance of wine—the blood of the eucharist, the blood of Christ—is prefigured.  Since most of the other miracles performed by Jesus have to do with tragic aspects of life—when he heals those who are ill or disabled or brings the dead back to life—how lovely it is that this first miracle is set at an occasion of joy! How splendid that Mary guides her Son to perform his first miracle, as an act of familial love! For me, it reinforces the idea that the Lord is always present with us, in the midst of our family gatherings, in times of joy and of sorrow, and that miracles are always possible. It is a reminder to be grateful for those everyday miracles of simple blessings that we often overlook.

What could be more fitting to represent the establishment of a new religion, one based on love, than a wedding?  In some of his parables, Jesus refers to himself as the bridegroom. And how is Jesus like a bridegroom?  He is faithful.  In the Hebrew tradition, the period of betrothal (or engagement) tested the faithfulness of the groom to his betrothed. The wedding itself was the proof of that faithfulness. A bridegroom is filled with love for his chosen one, just as Jesus loved and continues to love his people.  As any bridegroom would feel, Jesus’s love for us is a very tender, protective love. The church has long been called “the bride of Christ,” and we are the recipients of a love that is faithful, intimate, exclusive, and true. As the “bride of Christ,” we respond with our own tender love, our fidelity, our willingness to serve Christ in one another, our trust.  

The miracle at the wedding at Cana is not just a light-spirited event in the life of Jesus that can be easily overlooked. That miracle foreshadows all of the joy, love, and communion each of us can experience in the church.  The collect for today, the seventh Sunday after the Epiphany, has long been one of my favorites for its bold statement about the nature of love, and it would be a good prayer to say at a wedding:

O Lord, you have taught us that without love whatever we do is worth nothing: Send your Holy Spirit and pour into our hearts your greatest gift, which is love, the true bond of peace and of all virtue, without which whoever lives is accounted dead before you.

Grant this for the sake of your only Son Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.