Isaiah 55:10-13, Mt 13: 1-9, 18-23
Today’s Gospel reading is a familiar one to many of us. So familiar, in fact, that it’s easy to tune out. It’s easy to sit back and passively let the words fall on us with little active engagement with them. We might be tempted to start thinking about the grocery list or what we are going to do after church this morning. That is the danger with familiar stories. But it also goes against the very words and message of Jesus’ parable. This story from the Gospel of Matthew is often referred to as the Parable of the Sower. But it also seems to me to be the Parable of the Soil. The soil and the sower. The one who receives and the one who shares. It is a call to hear and understand the word of God and to share it abundantly with others.
On Friday I was at my aunt’s house in New Hampshire. I was outside admiring her beautiful garden filled with wonderfully alive plants and flowers. I pointed out my favorite- a blue hydrangea tucked back in the corner. She explained to me, who knows nothing about gardening, that she has been trying to get it to flower for years with no success. She finally determined it must be because of poor soil. So she took her hoe and started to do the slow work of breaking up the soil. Then she bought some cow manure and mixed into the soil. Now, the hydrangea is blooming beautifully for all to appreciate.
It took some hard work before the soil was ready to bear fruit. But in time, it did. And the same goes with each of us. I imagine that we all have some hardness in us, maybe from past hurts or present pain, that needs to be broken open. Maybe “the cares of the world and the lure of wealth” threaten to strangle the word of God in us, just as it did with the followers of Jesus 2000 years ago. If so, it is time to open our hearts to the life-giving power of God in our midst- to seek some “fertilizer” to add into the mix of our lives. It might be some time of quiet reflection, a walk along the beach, reflection on the weekly scripture, or looking with wonder at creation through the eyes of our children. All of this allows the seeds of God to sink deeper into us, so that it will take root and grow abundantly.
God’s word sowed in each of us is active. It doesn’t just come to us to rest passively. It is a creative force within us and the world. Isaiah in today’s first reading compares the word of God to the rain and snow that falls to the earth and does not return to the heavens until it has watered the ground allowing new growth to come about. Like the waters from heaven, the word of God does not return to God empty. In the words of Isaiah, “it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” We need to trust that these words are true. The seeds of God, the word of God, are at work in us and the world. The seeds of God, taking root in us, require us to act with urgency and with love. Hearing leads to understanding and to action. We are called to join God is the life-giving work of being a sower.
At first glance the sower in today’s Gospel doesn’t appear to be a very good farmer or example to us. What kind of farmer flings seeds carelessly, without concern for where it will fall? It seems wasteful to throw seeds into soil that is hardened, thorny or shallow. The gardeners in our midst this morning, I’m sure, would tell us this isn’t the way to produce a fruitful harvest. But our ways are not God’s ways. We are finite; God is infinite. We act with fear; God acts with hope. We see scarcity; God sees abundance.
It is not our responsibility to judge the worthiness of the soil before throwing the seeds of God. We share the seeds of God’s love and mercy as freely as they were shared with us. Even if it seems like a lost cause. It might be these “lost causes” that end up truly hearing and living out God’s word. I think of Oscar Romero a man who served as the Roman Catholic Archbishop of San Salvador in the late 1970s. Romero was caught up in the “lures of wealth.” He enjoyed the comfort and influence that came with being friends with the rich and powerful. It wasn’t until the assassination of a fellow priest, who worked tirelessly for the rights of the poor, that Romero began to both hear AND UNDERSTAND the Gospel message of justice and peace for the first time. The seeds that had been planted in Romero began to bear fruit in his advocacy for the poor of El Salvador. The people around Romero hoped and prayed the seeds of God would take root in what appeared to be thorny soil and they did. Many came to see themselves as beloved children of God who deserve to be treated with dignity because of Romero’s work. Romero heard and lived out the word of God and shared it with others. Sadly, in 1980, Romero was also assassinated for his decision to stand with the poor.
The seeds of God are not given for our personal benefit. They are shared with the world for the benefit of the world. They are the seeds of the Kingdom of God that is in our midst. So, not only do we take care of the word of God within us, we work to share it with others. By doing this we participate in the creative, live-giving mission of God. We help to bring God’s work of building the kingdom of justice and peace to fruition. And, ultimately, that is what the work of sowing seeds is all about. It is about God’s vision for the world. In the words of today’s collect I pray that we “may know and understand what things we ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Amen.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Easter VII- Lynn Campbell
Acts 1:6-14, John 17:1-11
As many of you know, my parents live in Delaware. Thankfully I’m able to get home every few months to spend some time with them. Most recently I spent Memorial Day weekend with them enjoying the beautiful beaches of Delaware. No matter what we do while I’m home, the visit always ends the same way. I hug each of my parents tight, not wanting to let go. I know I’ll talk with them while I’m here in Massachusetts, I know we will e-mail and send cards. But that isn’t the same. There is something about being physically present to one another. We want to grab hold of the one’s we love. I imagine those of you with seniors graduating from high school and preparing to leave for college can relate this feeling of wanting to hold on.
Today marks the last Sunday of the Easter season. This, the 7th Sunday of Easter, is sandwiched between the Ascension which the church celebrated this past Thursday and Pentecost, which is next Sunday. Here we are, caught up in this time between Jesus ascending to the Father in heaven and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Ascension, and this short time leading to Pentecost, is a time in our church calendar that is too often brushed aside with little notice.
For 40 days following the Resurrection, Jesus is physically present to his disciples. He reinforces his teaching about the coming of the Kingdom of God. He continues to show them the way forward. He tries to prepare them for a time in which he would no longer be present to them in the same way. I’m sure his physical presence was a comfort to the disciples, especially after the fear and pain of the cross. I imagine that the disciples wanted to grab hold of Jesus- keep him with them even if for just a little while longer. He was their friend, their brother. And as we know, the physical presence of those we love is important.
In this morning’s lesson from Acts, we hear the story of the ascension, we hear of Jesus who is lifted up to heaven as the apostles watch. I wonder if they felt a sense of abandonment or sadness as they watch their friend disappear behind a cloud. But before ascending, Jesus shares some final words of promise and commissioning. Listen to these words. They are spoken to us, who gather together some 2000 years later, just as truly as they are spoken to the first apostles. “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Although Jesus will not be present with them in the same way, he does not leave them abandoned. He promises them the Holy Spirit and he commissions them to a life of witness.
After Jesus ascends into heaven, Luke, the author of Acts, tells us that the disciples return to the upper room where they join together with some women, including Mary, the mother of Jesus, and his brothers. They come together and they pray. In the Gospel of Luke we also learn that the disciples praise God in the Temple. They come together, they pray, they praise God, they prepare their hearts for the coming of the promised Spirit.
So, like the disciples, we have been given the gift of time to ready our hearts for the coming of the Spirit. We have a week of anticipation, expectation, and preparation. We anticipate the coming of the Holy Spirit, we expect this gift, and so we prepare our hearts to receive it. I have heard this time of the church year compared to Advent. Advent is also a time of anticipation, expectation and preparation. We do so to ready our whole self for the gift of Jesus, born to us as Immanuel, God with us. Now, we are readying ourselves for the gift of God’s Holy Spirit.
With Pentecost on the horizon, we join with the disciples in preparation for the coming of the Spirit. We take on the posture of anticipation. We prepare for the coming of the Holy Spirit with the expectation that God WILL do something and we WILL be more deeply empowered to do the work God has given us to do.
But, do we really expect the Spirit to come anew and renew our lives? Do we want this? The Holy Spirit has the power to form and transform us. If we are open to the Spirit, she will call us and form us into new ways of being church, new ways of being in communion with one another and with the wider world. The Spirit will call us into the world to be witness to Jesus Christ. It is worth asking ourselves, are really open to this transformation? Do we want to invite the Spirit into our lives, even if we know we will be changed? If our answer is yes, then we must be ready to be drawn deeper into relationship with God and to participate in God’s mission of building a world of justice and peace. These are question we ask ourselves as individuals but they are also questions for us as a Christian community. I invite you to sit with these questions this week. It is one way of preparing for next week’s important celebration of Pentecost.
In today’s Gospel reading we overhear Jesus’ intimate prayer to his Father in heaven. In this final prayer before the betrayal that will lead to his crucifixion, Jesus prays that we may all be one as he and his Father are one. Jesus prays that our communion with one another would mirror the communion which Jesus and the Father share. During this time between the Ascension and Pentecost we pause to hear Jesus’ prayer for us. We pause to reflect on Jesus’ desire for us, that we become one with each another in order to create a world in which God’s reconciling love and truth is known by all. This is only possible with the power of the Spirit.
I don’t like change. I tend to like things to stay the way they are. I like to be comfortable. But the Holy Spirit is not about keeping things the same or making us more comfortable. Jesus does not send us the Holy Spirit so we can continue to live as we always have. It takes prayer and it takes community to be willing to open our hearts to the catalytic power of the Spirit. It might make us a little nervous, but it is also amazingly exciting. The Holy Spirit makes possible our work in the vineyard. The Spirit makes it possible to be co-creators in bringing about God’s dream for us and for the world.
If nowhere else, we experience this each week as we gather to celebrate Holy Eucharist. During the Eucharist Prayer as the priest prays over the bread and wine, she or he calls on the Holy Spirit to come upon the bread and the wine so that they may become for us the body and the blood of Jesus. Jesus becomes present to us in a real and profound way. By the power of the Holy Spirit the bread and wine are forever changed so that WE might be forever changed. The work of the Spirit allows us to enter more fully into communion with God and with one another- that we may become one as Jesus and the Father are one. THIS is what the Spirit is capable of doing in our lives and in the world. Perhaps this week would be a good time to imagine, with God, what the Spirit wants to do through you for the life of this particular community and in the world. I believe this will help us come ready to be renewed by the Spirit next week.
As we prepare to celebrate the Eucharist together this morning and as we enter into this week of preparation before Pentecost, may we find time to explore what we expect and anticipate will come with the renewal of the gift of the Holy Spirit. May we open our hearts and our imaginations so that we can be ready to receive anew the power of the Spirit in our lives.
Amen.
As many of you know, my parents live in Delaware. Thankfully I’m able to get home every few months to spend some time with them. Most recently I spent Memorial Day weekend with them enjoying the beautiful beaches of Delaware. No matter what we do while I’m home, the visit always ends the same way. I hug each of my parents tight, not wanting to let go. I know I’ll talk with them while I’m here in Massachusetts, I know we will e-mail and send cards. But that isn’t the same. There is something about being physically present to one another. We want to grab hold of the one’s we love. I imagine those of you with seniors graduating from high school and preparing to leave for college can relate this feeling of wanting to hold on.
Today marks the last Sunday of the Easter season. This, the 7th Sunday of Easter, is sandwiched between the Ascension which the church celebrated this past Thursday and Pentecost, which is next Sunday. Here we are, caught up in this time between Jesus ascending to the Father in heaven and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Ascension, and this short time leading to Pentecost, is a time in our church calendar that is too often brushed aside with little notice.
For 40 days following the Resurrection, Jesus is physically present to his disciples. He reinforces his teaching about the coming of the Kingdom of God. He continues to show them the way forward. He tries to prepare them for a time in which he would no longer be present to them in the same way. I’m sure his physical presence was a comfort to the disciples, especially after the fear and pain of the cross. I imagine that the disciples wanted to grab hold of Jesus- keep him with them even if for just a little while longer. He was their friend, their brother. And as we know, the physical presence of those we love is important.
In this morning’s lesson from Acts, we hear the story of the ascension, we hear of Jesus who is lifted up to heaven as the apostles watch. I wonder if they felt a sense of abandonment or sadness as they watch their friend disappear behind a cloud. But before ascending, Jesus shares some final words of promise and commissioning. Listen to these words. They are spoken to us, who gather together some 2000 years later, just as truly as they are spoken to the first apostles. “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Although Jesus will not be present with them in the same way, he does not leave them abandoned. He promises them the Holy Spirit and he commissions them to a life of witness.
After Jesus ascends into heaven, Luke, the author of Acts, tells us that the disciples return to the upper room where they join together with some women, including Mary, the mother of Jesus, and his brothers. They come together and they pray. In the Gospel of Luke we also learn that the disciples praise God in the Temple. They come together, they pray, they praise God, they prepare their hearts for the coming of the promised Spirit.
So, like the disciples, we have been given the gift of time to ready our hearts for the coming of the Spirit. We have a week of anticipation, expectation, and preparation. We anticipate the coming of the Holy Spirit, we expect this gift, and so we prepare our hearts to receive it. I have heard this time of the church year compared to Advent. Advent is also a time of anticipation, expectation and preparation. We do so to ready our whole self for the gift of Jesus, born to us as Immanuel, God with us. Now, we are readying ourselves for the gift of God’s Holy Spirit.
With Pentecost on the horizon, we join with the disciples in preparation for the coming of the Spirit. We take on the posture of anticipation. We prepare for the coming of the Holy Spirit with the expectation that God WILL do something and we WILL be more deeply empowered to do the work God has given us to do.
But, do we really expect the Spirit to come anew and renew our lives? Do we want this? The Holy Spirit has the power to form and transform us. If we are open to the Spirit, she will call us and form us into new ways of being church, new ways of being in communion with one another and with the wider world. The Spirit will call us into the world to be witness to Jesus Christ. It is worth asking ourselves, are really open to this transformation? Do we want to invite the Spirit into our lives, even if we know we will be changed? If our answer is yes, then we must be ready to be drawn deeper into relationship with God and to participate in God’s mission of building a world of justice and peace. These are question we ask ourselves as individuals but they are also questions for us as a Christian community. I invite you to sit with these questions this week. It is one way of preparing for next week’s important celebration of Pentecost.
In today’s Gospel reading we overhear Jesus’ intimate prayer to his Father in heaven. In this final prayer before the betrayal that will lead to his crucifixion, Jesus prays that we may all be one as he and his Father are one. Jesus prays that our communion with one another would mirror the communion which Jesus and the Father share. During this time between the Ascension and Pentecost we pause to hear Jesus’ prayer for us. We pause to reflect on Jesus’ desire for us, that we become one with each another in order to create a world in which God’s reconciling love and truth is known by all. This is only possible with the power of the Spirit.
I don’t like change. I tend to like things to stay the way they are. I like to be comfortable. But the Holy Spirit is not about keeping things the same or making us more comfortable. Jesus does not send us the Holy Spirit so we can continue to live as we always have. It takes prayer and it takes community to be willing to open our hearts to the catalytic power of the Spirit. It might make us a little nervous, but it is also amazingly exciting. The Holy Spirit makes possible our work in the vineyard. The Spirit makes it possible to be co-creators in bringing about God’s dream for us and for the world.
If nowhere else, we experience this each week as we gather to celebrate Holy Eucharist. During the Eucharist Prayer as the priest prays over the bread and wine, she or he calls on the Holy Spirit to come upon the bread and the wine so that they may become for us the body and the blood of Jesus. Jesus becomes present to us in a real and profound way. By the power of the Holy Spirit the bread and wine are forever changed so that WE might be forever changed. The work of the Spirit allows us to enter more fully into communion with God and with one another- that we may become one as Jesus and the Father are one. THIS is what the Spirit is capable of doing in our lives and in the world. Perhaps this week would be a good time to imagine, with God, what the Spirit wants to do through you for the life of this particular community and in the world. I believe this will help us come ready to be renewed by the Spirit next week.
As we prepare to celebrate the Eucharist together this morning and as we enter into this week of preparation before Pentecost, may we find time to explore what we expect and anticipate will come with the renewal of the gift of the Holy Spirit. May we open our hearts and our imaginations so that we can be ready to receive anew the power of the Spirit in our lives.
Amen.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Easter IV - Skip Windsor
1 Peter 2:19-25
The Face of Christ
Let us pray: Almighty God, sustain us through your Holy Spirit. Let our words be more than words so that what we say we will do in deed and set our hearts on fire to serve your people and further glorify your Holy Name. All this we ask in the name of your Son, Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Not long ago, the Bishop of Connecticut, Ian Douglas, was at the Episcopal Divinity School to speak to students and alums about the current state of The Episcopal Church and his new role in the governance of the Church.
According to a clergy colleague, Bishop Ian talked about visiting congregations and reported his conversations that went something like this: “Oh, bishop, we’re so glad you’re here. We want you to help us grow.”
“Why,” asked the Bishop?
“What?”
“Why do you want to grow?”
“Well… isn’t that what we are supposed to do?”
“Well, why?”
“Well… so the church can have more members.”
“Why?”
“So the church can grow.”
“Why?”
“Well, more members means more pledges and more pledges means we can grow.”
The Bishop went on to say that the church – the people – does not exist to tend to itself but to care for others; and that the mission of the church is being about the business of catching up with what God is already doing in the world and to join God’s mission in the world.
“The ministry of the church is to be about the business of catching up with what God is already doing in the world.” Now that is quite a mission statement!
I do not think anyone here would disagree that a church that adds more members to the shared life in Christ is doing a good thing. Jesus’ charge in the Great Commission reinforces such community growth when he gives the command to the disciples to baptize all people in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; and that is exactly what you and I are celebrating this morning
Today, we will witness and celebrate the baptism of Elyn Grace into the Household of God. She will be our newest Christian and it is a time to rejoice. As Elyn grows and matures, she will learn about God and what it means to be called a Christian. Sometime in the future, if it is God’s will and hers, she will re-affirm her baptismal vows in confirmation.
My hope is that she will see her confirmation not as a graduation that relieves her of her Christian responsibilities; but she sees confirmation as an inauguration. Through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus and through the power of the Holy Spirit, Elyn will see herself as an ambassador of Christ sent forth to be a healer, reconciler and witness of God’s love.
In this ceremony of baptism, you and I are going to re-affirm our own baptismal vows prior to her baptism. The words, taken from the Creeds, are the tokens of our Christian faith; and as we recite together our Baptismal Covenant, it is an apt time for us to reflect upon who we are and whose we are.
The famous theologian, Karl Barth, once said the word of God is not in the Bible but to be discovered through the Bible. In scripture, we know that God sent forth his purpose through the divine spirit at creation, through Abraham and Sarah to a new homeland, through Moses out of Egypt, through the prophets and sages of Israel, and through Jesus who said, “Just as the Father has sent me so I send you.”
Through salvation history, God is seen as a missionary God. God is a sending god. God sends forth people to be missionary people. If they are to be followers of God they are to be a sent people. It is said that ‘the church exists by mission just as fire exists by burning.’
Mission is central to the life of the church because mission is central to God. And the mission is not to draft or recruit people into “our denomination” nor bolster church membership; rather, it is to alert and awaken people to God’s purpose in the world.
You and I live, move and have our being as the Church – the Laos, the people of God - in order to try and make the Kingdom of God more real, more visible, to the world. As God’s hands in the world, we are to help transform people into a new life in Christ. We are able to do this because the Church is the place where God’s love is expressed and shared.
To see ourselves as a sent people, a missionary people, by a sending God is to be freed from the worries and attachments of trying to be “like the world” with business plans, gap analysis, and marketing plans. As St. Paul writes, “we are in this world but not of this world.” To be mission people is a counterintuitive life that threatens the current ethos of a secular society and startles the top-down governance of the institutional church.
I believe it requires seeing ourselves as empowered by God as a sent people that frees us from spending time and energy in the wrong places.
In the dynamic tension between church maintenance and church mission, Jesus’s mandate is to valorize mission.
If we can do that first and foremost then the church will have the human and financial resources to maintain the buildings, to strengthen programs and meet the expenses needed to keep the lights on.
Jesus’ call to us as the sent ones of God belongs to us all by virtue of our baptisms. It is the mission of the church – the mission of you and me - to seek and serve Christ loving our neighbor as ourselves. I believe if we can rediscover a renewed sense of mission we will be a transformed church; and one that is relevant and meaningful for the people of today. As Dr. Elwin Semrod of Harvard Medical School once said, “people will return where they find help.”
I have this image of the missionary church. It is not of a big cathedral; nor is it of soaring towers. It is not of committee meetings nor strategic plans nor even an Every Member Canvass. For these things merely serve as a means to an end. Rather, the picture of the church I have is of people formed of one flesh in Christ, weaving a circle, threading hands. Not standing still. Moving. Dancing. They are men and women, boys and girls. They are people like you and me.
They rejoice being together in community –helping, serving, caring, and forgiving one another – but they do not look inwardly. Rather, they face outwards; ready to be sent forth, looking for others in need and being in solidarity with the least, the last, the lost and the lonely. This is the missionary church. It is the face of Christ.
Shakespeare once wrote that we are the stuff dreams are made of. As we prepare to witness and celebrate Elyn’s baptism and re-affirm our own, let us dream the good dreams of God; and with God’s help, we shall grow in faith, grow our church, and grow more and more into the full stature of Christ.
The Face of Christ
Let us pray: Almighty God, sustain us through your Holy Spirit. Let our words be more than words so that what we say we will do in deed and set our hearts on fire to serve your people and further glorify your Holy Name. All this we ask in the name of your Son, Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Not long ago, the Bishop of Connecticut, Ian Douglas, was at the Episcopal Divinity School to speak to students and alums about the current state of The Episcopal Church and his new role in the governance of the Church.
According to a clergy colleague, Bishop Ian talked about visiting congregations and reported his conversations that went something like this: “Oh, bishop, we’re so glad you’re here. We want you to help us grow.”
“Why,” asked the Bishop?
“What?”
“Why do you want to grow?”
“Well… isn’t that what we are supposed to do?”
“Well, why?”
“Well… so the church can have more members.”
“Why?”
“So the church can grow.”
“Why?”
“Well, more members means more pledges and more pledges means we can grow.”
The Bishop went on to say that the church – the people – does not exist to tend to itself but to care for others; and that the mission of the church is being about the business of catching up with what God is already doing in the world and to join God’s mission in the world.
“The ministry of the church is to be about the business of catching up with what God is already doing in the world.” Now that is quite a mission statement!
I do not think anyone here would disagree that a church that adds more members to the shared life in Christ is doing a good thing. Jesus’ charge in the Great Commission reinforces such community growth when he gives the command to the disciples to baptize all people in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; and that is exactly what you and I are celebrating this morning
Today, we will witness and celebrate the baptism of Elyn Grace into the Household of God. She will be our newest Christian and it is a time to rejoice. As Elyn grows and matures, she will learn about God and what it means to be called a Christian. Sometime in the future, if it is God’s will and hers, she will re-affirm her baptismal vows in confirmation.
My hope is that she will see her confirmation not as a graduation that relieves her of her Christian responsibilities; but she sees confirmation as an inauguration. Through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus and through the power of the Holy Spirit, Elyn will see herself as an ambassador of Christ sent forth to be a healer, reconciler and witness of God’s love.
In this ceremony of baptism, you and I are going to re-affirm our own baptismal vows prior to her baptism. The words, taken from the Creeds, are the tokens of our Christian faith; and as we recite together our Baptismal Covenant, it is an apt time for us to reflect upon who we are and whose we are.
The famous theologian, Karl Barth, once said the word of God is not in the Bible but to be discovered through the Bible. In scripture, we know that God sent forth his purpose through the divine spirit at creation, through Abraham and Sarah to a new homeland, through Moses out of Egypt, through the prophets and sages of Israel, and through Jesus who said, “Just as the Father has sent me so I send you.”
Through salvation history, God is seen as a missionary God. God is a sending god. God sends forth people to be missionary people. If they are to be followers of God they are to be a sent people. It is said that ‘the church exists by mission just as fire exists by burning.’
Mission is central to the life of the church because mission is central to God. And the mission is not to draft or recruit people into “our denomination” nor bolster church membership; rather, it is to alert and awaken people to God’s purpose in the world.
You and I live, move and have our being as the Church – the Laos, the people of God - in order to try and make the Kingdom of God more real, more visible, to the world. As God’s hands in the world, we are to help transform people into a new life in Christ. We are able to do this because the Church is the place where God’s love is expressed and shared.
To see ourselves as a sent people, a missionary people, by a sending God is to be freed from the worries and attachments of trying to be “like the world” with business plans, gap analysis, and marketing plans. As St. Paul writes, “we are in this world but not of this world.” To be mission people is a counterintuitive life that threatens the current ethos of a secular society and startles the top-down governance of the institutional church.
I believe it requires seeing ourselves as empowered by God as a sent people that frees us from spending time and energy in the wrong places.
In the dynamic tension between church maintenance and church mission, Jesus’s mandate is to valorize mission.
If we can do that first and foremost then the church will have the human and financial resources to maintain the buildings, to strengthen programs and meet the expenses needed to keep the lights on.
Jesus’ call to us as the sent ones of God belongs to us all by virtue of our baptisms. It is the mission of the church – the mission of you and me - to seek and serve Christ loving our neighbor as ourselves. I believe if we can rediscover a renewed sense of mission we will be a transformed church; and one that is relevant and meaningful for the people of today. As Dr. Elwin Semrod of Harvard Medical School once said, “people will return where they find help.”
I have this image of the missionary church. It is not of a big cathedral; nor is it of soaring towers. It is not of committee meetings nor strategic plans nor even an Every Member Canvass. For these things merely serve as a means to an end. Rather, the picture of the church I have is of people formed of one flesh in Christ, weaving a circle, threading hands. Not standing still. Moving. Dancing. They are men and women, boys and girls. They are people like you and me.
They rejoice being together in community –helping, serving, caring, and forgiving one another – but they do not look inwardly. Rather, they face outwards; ready to be sent forth, looking for others in need and being in solidarity with the least, the last, the lost and the lonely. This is the missionary church. It is the face of Christ.
Shakespeare once wrote that we are the stuff dreams are made of. As we prepare to witness and celebrate Elyn’s baptism and re-affirm our own, let us dream the good dreams of God; and with God’s help, we shall grow in faith, grow our church, and grow more and more into the full stature of Christ.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Easter III - Stan Hitron
A Lesson Plan for Knowing the Risen Lord
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you oh God, our creator, redeemer, and sustainer.
“Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”
The Gospels tell of Jesus’ many talents: Prophet, Healer, Miracle Worker, Redeemer. But he started his illustrious earthly career as a teacher. He showed this aptitude for His Heavenly Father’s profession at the early age of 12 when he was found in the temple by his worried mother in the midst of the scribes and elders brilliantly explaining the Scriptures to them. When his mother chides him for disappearing on her, he reminds her, “I must be about my Father’s business.”
So being in the teaching business myself, I know that it is not enough to know your subject matter, present it to your students, and have them recite it back to you on a test. A good teacher tries to create transformative learning experiences, learning that creates a permanent change in the learner. In our scriptures for today we have outlined for us a lesson plan on how we can have the transformative learning experience of knowing that Jesus is Lord, He is present in our lives, and that He is here, as today’s psalm says, to free us from the “cords of death.”
In today’s Gospel, Cleopas and his companion first encounter Jesus as a teacher. As a teacher myself, I think I understand Jesus’ frustration at how slow His pupils can sometimes be, a frustration that is expressed throughout the Gospels. How often over the three years of Jesus’ earthly ministry do we read of situations where after all the explaining and demonstrating, parables and miracles, his erstwhile followers, his students, still don’t get it. I know how he feels. In my somewhat less illustrious career of nearly 30 years, how often have I thought, “They’ve read the text, heard the lecture, seen the demonstrations, tried to apply the concepts themselves, yet – where’s the transformative learning?”
So it is no different in our Gospel for today with Cleopas and his companion when Jesus, the risen Lord, joins them on the road to Emmaus. They fail to see beyond the events of the past weekend. They’ve forgotten or not really comprehended the Scriptures and Jesus’ lessons. They have witnessed Jesus wonderful life, but also the terrible and disappointing passion and death of the man as Cleopas says, seemed “a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,” one whom they thought was the Messiah, the one ordained by God and promised throughout scripture as Luke says, “to redeem Israel.” Instead of a glorious triumph by this mighty prophet, Cleopas laments, “our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him.” ––Bummer— what a way to run a revolution! So we are told “they were sad” sadder probably than usual for a Sunday morning, this first day of the work week when promise of the weekend yields to the now greater drudgery of the weekly grind.
Like a good teacher, however, after a brief moment of frustration at “how foolish [they] are and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!” Jesus, probably for the umpteenth time, as Luke tells us “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, . . . interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” Still Cleopas and his companion’s “eyes were kept from recognizing him.”
I see this failure to “recognize him” akin to another obstacle to learning that teachers encounter. No matter the subject matter, no student enters a class as a blank slate. Everyone has assumptions and preconceptions that are difficult to get to clear out to make room for the new learning. Resurrection, now there is a new concept, something up to this time no human being could conceive of or do. Cleopas and friend had their own preconceived notion of the Messiah: “a prophet mighty in word and deed” one who is “to redeem Israel,” not a man who is handed over to crucifixion by his own people, dies a horrible, humiliating death on a cross, and is buried.
But Jesus was making some progress with these students, for as they arrived at Emmaus and He was about to part from them, they urged him to stay and have dinner with them, “We’ll treat,” perhaps Cleopas said. There was something in the way this stranger explained God’s promise throughout scripture and how it all pointed to this man Jesus whose work they knew and whose terrible death was such a disappointment to them. Cleopas tells the Apostles back in Jerusalem that the fellow traveler’s words “set our hearts burning within us.”
It is again as a teacher that I try to understand what’s going on here. How does Jesus, the teacher, get Cleopas so excited that he wants to keep this stranger around a little longer to learn more? To really understand that the scriptures point to a miraculous resolution to Jesus passion and death, the student of scripture must be fully engaged with a burning desire to understand the promise to God’s people of the Old Testament and the good news of its fulfillment in the Gospels. This initial desire to know can come from us. And as students we can strive to empty our minds of preconceptions to make room for the new, transformative learning. We can also strive to have faith in Jesus, the teacher, who will lead us forth, the meaning of the Latin root of the word education, to realize the Truth that will set us free. We need Jesus as our teacher because like a good teacher Jesus knows how to engage his students in the learning.
Jesus’ method is explained in our first reading today from the Acts of the Apostles. It’s called the Holy Spirit, and it is what filled Peter and the others on Pentecost and gave them the courage to preach to the multitudes gathered in Jerusalem. Peter tells the crowd how by repenting and being baptized they, “will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” which had just come to the apostles as tongues of fire. Cleopas and his companion are getting a little taste of what is to come on Pentecost. Jesus’ explaining the scriptures to them had the same effect as the Holy Spirit did on Pentecost. It set their “hearts burning within them.”
So we have the text, the teachings of the scriptures, and by repenting and being baptized, we can be filled with the Holy Spirit to truly ugrasp these teachings. However, as today’s Gospel shows Cleopas and his companion needed more than an insightful understanding of Scripture to have the transformative learning experience of truly knowing the risen Jesus, the “Word made flesh” that transcends the Jesus of history and the written text. Their burning hearts drove them to want more. If only this stranger they met on their road to Emmaus would agree to remain with them a bit longer. “Let’s have a meal together and get to know each other a little better,” they thought.
Today’s psalm reminds us of the centrality of the sacramental meal of the Holy Eucharist as a way to know the risen Lord and what His death and Resurrection mean for us. The speaker in today’s psalms is thanking the Lord for responding to his pleadings to saved from death. The speaker expresses his praise and thanksgiving for God’s saving mercy. In a similar way in the liturgy of Holy Eucharist, we call for God to save us and we respond to the saving experience by thanking Him for his mercy.
The words of today’s psalm could be a summary of the human condition that the sin of Adam has put us in:
Some of the language in this psalm is very familiar for we hear it every time we celebrate the liturgy of Holy Eucharist and partake of the bread and wine. Every Sunday, as today’s psalm states, we “offer the sacrifice of thanksgiving.” And partake of “the cup of salvation.” And as it happened for Cleopas and friend so it also can happen for us. Perhaps by not naming Cleopas’ companion Luke is inviting us to put ourselves in this narrative of discovery. As Cleopas’ companion, we too can have our hearts set afire and our eyes open to recognize the living Jesus who is even now at this moment and will remain our companion on our road through life.
Every time we celebrate the liturgy of Eucharist we can travel the road to Emmaus with Cleopas arriving at our own transformative learning experience. We can hear Jesus explaining the promise of the Scriptures. We can confess our sins, and like the multitudes on Pentecost, receive the Holy Spirit and in repeating Jesus sacrificial act and partaking of “the Body of Christ, the bread of heaven” and “the cup of salvation” we can experience the transformative learning that took place so many years ago in Emmaus. As with Cleopas Jesus, the risen Lord and our Redeemer who has freed us from the “cords of death” is “made known to [all of us] in the breaking of the bread.”
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you oh God, our creator, redeemer, and sustainer.
“Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”
The Gospels tell of Jesus’ many talents: Prophet, Healer, Miracle Worker, Redeemer. But he started his illustrious earthly career as a teacher. He showed this aptitude for His Heavenly Father’s profession at the early age of 12 when he was found in the temple by his worried mother in the midst of the scribes and elders brilliantly explaining the Scriptures to them. When his mother chides him for disappearing on her, he reminds her, “I must be about my Father’s business.”
So being in the teaching business myself, I know that it is not enough to know your subject matter, present it to your students, and have them recite it back to you on a test. A good teacher tries to create transformative learning experiences, learning that creates a permanent change in the learner. In our scriptures for today we have outlined for us a lesson plan on how we can have the transformative learning experience of knowing that Jesus is Lord, He is present in our lives, and that He is here, as today’s psalm says, to free us from the “cords of death.”
In today’s Gospel, Cleopas and his companion first encounter Jesus as a teacher. As a teacher myself, I think I understand Jesus’ frustration at how slow His pupils can sometimes be, a frustration that is expressed throughout the Gospels. How often over the three years of Jesus’ earthly ministry do we read of situations where after all the explaining and demonstrating, parables and miracles, his erstwhile followers, his students, still don’t get it. I know how he feels. In my somewhat less illustrious career of nearly 30 years, how often have I thought, “They’ve read the text, heard the lecture, seen the demonstrations, tried to apply the concepts themselves, yet – where’s the transformative learning?”
So it is no different in our Gospel for today with Cleopas and his companion when Jesus, the risen Lord, joins them on the road to Emmaus. They fail to see beyond the events of the past weekend. They’ve forgotten or not really comprehended the Scriptures and Jesus’ lessons. They have witnessed Jesus wonderful life, but also the terrible and disappointing passion and death of the man as Cleopas says, seemed “a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people,” one whom they thought was the Messiah, the one ordained by God and promised throughout scripture as Luke says, “to redeem Israel.” Instead of a glorious triumph by this mighty prophet, Cleopas laments, “our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him.” ––Bummer— what a way to run a revolution! So we are told “they were sad” sadder probably than usual for a Sunday morning, this first day of the work week when promise of the weekend yields to the now greater drudgery of the weekly grind.
Like a good teacher, however, after a brief moment of frustration at “how foolish [they] are and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared!” Jesus, probably for the umpteenth time, as Luke tells us “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, . . . interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” Still Cleopas and his companion’s “eyes were kept from recognizing him.”
I see this failure to “recognize him” akin to another obstacle to learning that teachers encounter. No matter the subject matter, no student enters a class as a blank slate. Everyone has assumptions and preconceptions that are difficult to get to clear out to make room for the new learning. Resurrection, now there is a new concept, something up to this time no human being could conceive of or do. Cleopas and friend had their own preconceived notion of the Messiah: “a prophet mighty in word and deed” one who is “to redeem Israel,” not a man who is handed over to crucifixion by his own people, dies a horrible, humiliating death on a cross, and is buried.
But Jesus was making some progress with these students, for as they arrived at Emmaus and He was about to part from them, they urged him to stay and have dinner with them, “We’ll treat,” perhaps Cleopas said. There was something in the way this stranger explained God’s promise throughout scripture and how it all pointed to this man Jesus whose work they knew and whose terrible death was such a disappointment to them. Cleopas tells the Apostles back in Jerusalem that the fellow traveler’s words “set our hearts burning within us.”
It is again as a teacher that I try to understand what’s going on here. How does Jesus, the teacher, get Cleopas so excited that he wants to keep this stranger around a little longer to learn more? To really understand that the scriptures point to a miraculous resolution to Jesus passion and death, the student of scripture must be fully engaged with a burning desire to understand the promise to God’s people of the Old Testament and the good news of its fulfillment in the Gospels. This initial desire to know can come from us. And as students we can strive to empty our minds of preconceptions to make room for the new, transformative learning. We can also strive to have faith in Jesus, the teacher, who will lead us forth, the meaning of the Latin root of the word education, to realize the Truth that will set us free. We need Jesus as our teacher because like a good teacher Jesus knows how to engage his students in the learning.
Jesus’ method is explained in our first reading today from the Acts of the Apostles. It’s called the Holy Spirit, and it is what filled Peter and the others on Pentecost and gave them the courage to preach to the multitudes gathered in Jerusalem. Peter tells the crowd how by repenting and being baptized they, “will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit” which had just come to the apostles as tongues of fire. Cleopas and his companion are getting a little taste of what is to come on Pentecost. Jesus’ explaining the scriptures to them had the same effect as the Holy Spirit did on Pentecost. It set their “hearts burning within them.”
So we have the text, the teachings of the scriptures, and by repenting and being baptized, we can be filled with the Holy Spirit to truly ugrasp these teachings. However, as today’s Gospel shows Cleopas and his companion needed more than an insightful understanding of Scripture to have the transformative learning experience of truly knowing the risen Jesus, the “Word made flesh” that transcends the Jesus of history and the written text. Their burning hearts drove them to want more. If only this stranger they met on their road to Emmaus would agree to remain with them a bit longer. “Let’s have a meal together and get to know each other a little better,” they thought.
Today’s psalm reminds us of the centrality of the sacramental meal of the Holy Eucharist as a way to know the risen Lord and what His death and Resurrection mean for us. The speaker in today’s psalms is thanking the Lord for responding to his pleadings to saved from death. The speaker expresses his praise and thanksgiving for God’s saving mercy. In a similar way in the liturgy of Holy Eucharist, we call for God to save us and we respond to the saving experience by thanking Him for his mercy.
The words of today’s psalm could be a summary of the human condition that the sin of Adam has put us in:
The cords of death entangled me;But
the grip of the grave took hold of me; *
I came to grief and sorrow.
Then I called upon the Name of the LORD: *We all fear the cords of death, but we are told that there is a way to escape them.
"O LORD, I pray you, save my life."
Some of the language in this psalm is very familiar for we hear it every time we celebrate the liturgy of Holy Eucharist and partake of the bread and wine. Every Sunday, as today’s psalm states, we “offer the sacrifice of thanksgiving.” And partake of “the cup of salvation.” And as it happened for Cleopas and friend so it also can happen for us. Perhaps by not naming Cleopas’ companion Luke is inviting us to put ourselves in this narrative of discovery. As Cleopas’ companion, we too can have our hearts set afire and our eyes open to recognize the living Jesus who is even now at this moment and will remain our companion on our road through life.
Every time we celebrate the liturgy of Eucharist we can travel the road to Emmaus with Cleopas arriving at our own transformative learning experience. We can hear Jesus explaining the promise of the Scriptures. We can confess our sins, and like the multitudes on Pentecost, receive the Holy Spirit and in repeating Jesus sacrificial act and partaking of “the Body of Christ, the bread of heaven” and “the cup of salvation” we can experience the transformative learning that took place so many years ago in Emmaus. As with Cleopas Jesus, the risen Lord and our Redeemer who has freed us from the “cords of death” is “made known to [all of us] in the breaking of the bread.”
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Easter Day - Skip Windsor
Colossians 3:1-4
A Happy Thing
O God, open our hearts to your word – a word that passes swiftly and faithfully from the ear to the heart, from the heart to the life. Amen.
A grandmother told me not too long ago about the time she took her five-year old grandson for the first time to a carwash. As the car entered the enfolding darkness, sprayed with brightly colored soaps, soaked with high pressure hoses, and blasted with drying fans, the grandson looked up at his grandmother with a worried look and asked, “Grandma, is this a happy thing?”
“Is this a happy thing?” I think these words may capture something of what the first disciples were thinking when Mary burst into the upper room and told them that the tomb of Jesus was empty. At first, they may have thought it a bad thing until they received different messages and came to realize for themselves that this was indeed a happy thing.
Easter is a happy day because you and I celebrate a happy thing: Jesus lives! Today is the celebration of our hope in Jesus Christ. The faith of the Christian Church is dependent upon the resurrection. All hinges on the belief that “Christ is risen”. To be clear it was St. Paul who used the words, “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain,” expressing the belief shared by all the earliest Christians.
Each Gospel tells a different resurrection story and each writer gives it his own particular slant. Angels, earthquakes, strange appearances, missing bodies all mark the events of the empty tomb. Our reading selection from John’s Gospel today renders a vivid account of fits and starts, running and stopping, love and loss, recognition and mistaken identity. It is a gripping narrative. It is grand story telling; but is it real?
Did Mary actually meet a gardener? Does it matter whether Peter and John actually saw Jesus’ linens folded neatly into two piles in the tomb? What matters, I think, is that Mary, Peter and John left behind their old lives, their frightened selves and became a transformed people. Somehow, in an odd and mysterious way, the resurrection of Jesus was not just about him. Rising from the dead was not done as some selfish act of God to liberate God’s son.
The resurrection of Jesus was about, and for, Mary, Peter, John and all the disciples. No longer was Jesus a “he:” some separate entity distanced from them. Now, Jesus became part of them. He and they were as one: still separate persons but intensely and mysteriously unified. “No longer,” as St. Paul writes, “do I live but the Christ within me.”
The late Peter Gomes of Harvard’s Memorial Church writes that you and I are called to be “Easter Christians.” We are to put off and set aside the old life and put on Christ. We are to put away anger, wrath, malice, and slander and to put on kindness, humility, and compassion. Gomes is realistic enough to note such biblical mandates come with a sobering reproach:
“The great trick in our intellectual world is to think of something we want to do and then imagine it to be so impossible as not to be able to do it which relieves us of the responsibility of trying to do it.” Gomes believes that these attributes of wholeness, integrity and authenticity are waiting to be summoned forth so that we can walk a new life as a resurrected people.
In our epistle lesson for today from Colossians, the apostle Paul writes, we are to take off the old and put on the new.
I am reminded of the story told by the Christian author, Max Lucado, called “Take it off? Take it all off.” It is the story Bob, who was born into the land of coats and was persuaded by various people to wear a variety of coats, depending upon which color of coat they were wearing themselves.
Bob got so good at changing coats so swiftly, depending upon whom he was with, that he became very popular. But, one day, Bob met a man who wore no coat, and who advised him to take off all his coats and “let the world see who you truly are.” So Bob was left to ponder the question, “Take them off? Take them all off?”
The advice of the man in the story is the same advice Paul offers in his Epistle to the Colossians. Using his words from another biblical translation called The Message,
Paul writes: “If you are serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with things right in front of you. Look up and be alert to what is going on around Christ – That’s where the action is. See things from his perspective. Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life – even though invisible to spectators – is with Christ in God. Christ is your real life” (Col. 3:1-4).
To take seriously the resurrection of Jesus is to see our lives differently. To paraphrase the poet Emily Dickinson we are to see it slant. To live into this new life in Christ, which may be invisible to others, is to seek a change of consciousness from being merely observers of an unfolding story but participants in the continuing narrative of salvation.
In the beginning God created the world to have a relationship with creation. This love was to become visibly manifested; and this love was shown most exquisitely through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. God took this risk to love; and the resurrection is God’s invitation to us to take the same kind of risk of love in our lives today.
Resurrection is not written in books alone. We are eyewitnesses to it everyday:
We see resurrection when one small black Anglican bishop and a long imprisoned man say no to apartheid and dismantle a country of oppression re-creating a new world of liberation and justice.
We see resurrection in the rescue of 33 entombed Chilean miners who were buried alive for 69 days
Resurrection is known when the organs of a brain dead man are given to three people who are able to live now because of him.
I see resurrection in the hopeless face of a Haitian girl who thought she would never walk again but brightens as she takes her first steps because of the compassion and ingenuity of a physical therapist
I see resurrection in a terminally ill woman who spends the remaining days of her life teaching a special needs boy how to live with strength and courage by her own brave example of compassion.
I see resurrection in a lost boy who was bewildered and beleaguered by drugs and alcohol that died to his old self and lives now a new life by selflessly serving his country.
Resurrection is about experience as much as it is about belief. Signs of resurrection surround us daily if we have the eyes to see. Easter is not a past event but is the event of our lives.
At Easter, you and I rediscover that behind the universe is a God who brings love, hope, and promise to everyone. Death is not the end because Christ is risen. In this sure knowledge, you and I live not just with a hope but live in the Body of Hope with the one we call Savior: Jesus Christ.
This is a happy thing – a very happy thing!
A Happy Thing
O God, open our hearts to your word – a word that passes swiftly and faithfully from the ear to the heart, from the heart to the life. Amen.
A grandmother told me not too long ago about the time she took her five-year old grandson for the first time to a carwash. As the car entered the enfolding darkness, sprayed with brightly colored soaps, soaked with high pressure hoses, and blasted with drying fans, the grandson looked up at his grandmother with a worried look and asked, “Grandma, is this a happy thing?”
“Is this a happy thing?” I think these words may capture something of what the first disciples were thinking when Mary burst into the upper room and told them that the tomb of Jesus was empty. At first, they may have thought it a bad thing until they received different messages and came to realize for themselves that this was indeed a happy thing.
Easter is a happy day because you and I celebrate a happy thing: Jesus lives! Today is the celebration of our hope in Jesus Christ. The faith of the Christian Church is dependent upon the resurrection. All hinges on the belief that “Christ is risen”. To be clear it was St. Paul who used the words, “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain,” expressing the belief shared by all the earliest Christians.
Each Gospel tells a different resurrection story and each writer gives it his own particular slant. Angels, earthquakes, strange appearances, missing bodies all mark the events of the empty tomb. Our reading selection from John’s Gospel today renders a vivid account of fits and starts, running and stopping, love and loss, recognition and mistaken identity. It is a gripping narrative. It is grand story telling; but is it real?
Did Mary actually meet a gardener? Does it matter whether Peter and John actually saw Jesus’ linens folded neatly into two piles in the tomb? What matters, I think, is that Mary, Peter and John left behind their old lives, their frightened selves and became a transformed people. Somehow, in an odd and mysterious way, the resurrection of Jesus was not just about him. Rising from the dead was not done as some selfish act of God to liberate God’s son.
The resurrection of Jesus was about, and for, Mary, Peter, John and all the disciples. No longer was Jesus a “he:” some separate entity distanced from them. Now, Jesus became part of them. He and they were as one: still separate persons but intensely and mysteriously unified. “No longer,” as St. Paul writes, “do I live but the Christ within me.”
The late Peter Gomes of Harvard’s Memorial Church writes that you and I are called to be “Easter Christians.” We are to put off and set aside the old life and put on Christ. We are to put away anger, wrath, malice, and slander and to put on kindness, humility, and compassion. Gomes is realistic enough to note such biblical mandates come with a sobering reproach:
“The great trick in our intellectual world is to think of something we want to do and then imagine it to be so impossible as not to be able to do it which relieves us of the responsibility of trying to do it.” Gomes believes that these attributes of wholeness, integrity and authenticity are waiting to be summoned forth so that we can walk a new life as a resurrected people.
In our epistle lesson for today from Colossians, the apostle Paul writes, we are to take off the old and put on the new.
I am reminded of the story told by the Christian author, Max Lucado, called “Take it off? Take it all off.” It is the story Bob, who was born into the land of coats and was persuaded by various people to wear a variety of coats, depending upon which color of coat they were wearing themselves.
Bob got so good at changing coats so swiftly, depending upon whom he was with, that he became very popular. But, one day, Bob met a man who wore no coat, and who advised him to take off all his coats and “let the world see who you truly are.” So Bob was left to ponder the question, “Take them off? Take them all off?”
The advice of the man in the story is the same advice Paul offers in his Epistle to the Colossians. Using his words from another biblical translation called The Message,
Paul writes: “If you are serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with things right in front of you. Look up and be alert to what is going on around Christ – That’s where the action is. See things from his perspective. Your old life is dead. Your new life, which is your real life – even though invisible to spectators – is with Christ in God. Christ is your real life” (Col. 3:1-4).
To take seriously the resurrection of Jesus is to see our lives differently. To paraphrase the poet Emily Dickinson we are to see it slant. To live into this new life in Christ, which may be invisible to others, is to seek a change of consciousness from being merely observers of an unfolding story but participants in the continuing narrative of salvation.
In the beginning God created the world to have a relationship with creation. This love was to become visibly manifested; and this love was shown most exquisitely through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. God took this risk to love; and the resurrection is God’s invitation to us to take the same kind of risk of love in our lives today.
Resurrection is not written in books alone. We are eyewitnesses to it everyday:
We see resurrection when one small black Anglican bishop and a long imprisoned man say no to apartheid and dismantle a country of oppression re-creating a new world of liberation and justice.
We see resurrection in the rescue of 33 entombed Chilean miners who were buried alive for 69 days
Resurrection is known when the organs of a brain dead man are given to three people who are able to live now because of him.
I see resurrection in the hopeless face of a Haitian girl who thought she would never walk again but brightens as she takes her first steps because of the compassion and ingenuity of a physical therapist
I see resurrection in a terminally ill woman who spends the remaining days of her life teaching a special needs boy how to live with strength and courage by her own brave example of compassion.
I see resurrection in a lost boy who was bewildered and beleaguered by drugs and alcohol that died to his old self and lives now a new life by selflessly serving his country.
Resurrection is about experience as much as it is about belief. Signs of resurrection surround us daily if we have the eyes to see. Easter is not a past event but is the event of our lives.
At Easter, you and I rediscover that behind the universe is a God who brings love, hope, and promise to everyone. Death is not the end because Christ is risen. In this sure knowledge, you and I live not just with a hope but live in the Body of Hope with the one we call Savior: Jesus Christ.
This is a happy thing – a very happy thing!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Maundy Thursday - Holly Hartman
On Maundy Thursday, we at Christ Church practice the ancient ritual of foot washing.
You can see in your bulletin that you’ll have the opportunity to participate in this right after this
homily. If you choose. I hope you do choose.
Why do we do this? Presumably, we want to emulate Jesus. The humility, love, and act of
service that Jesus displayed when he surprised his disciples during their Last Supper together to
perform this act.
At first, the disciples bristled. “You will NEVER wash my feet”, Peter says. But Jesus
admonishes him that unless he allows this humble, pious act to occur, then Peter will “have no
share” with Jesus.
Most of us, bristle, too, when it comes to foot washing. “You will NEVER wash my feet”, we
think or even say out loud, when it is offered on Maundy Thursday. Feet are smelly, ugly, dirty.
It’s awkward. It’s embarrassing. It’s uncomfortable. Instead of identifying with Jesus, we
identify with Peter in this story. Peter was embarrassed to have Jesus, his master, treat him as if
the roles were switched and Jesus was the servant instead. Jesus’ message was to reassure Peter
that there is no greater or lesser person in the eyes of God. Everyone can serve, and everyone
can be served.
I am certainly not going to shame you into having your feet washed tonight, or even try to
convince you. But I do want to share a story with you that changed my own feelings about foot
washing.
A few years ago, I was in Haiti on a mission trip with some members of my sponsoring church,
St. Paul’s in Dedham. It was October of 2008, and our trip took place just after a series of
powerful hurricanes had afflicted the country. I was walking to church on a Sunday morning,
along the unpaved road in the rural village of Juampas. With me were three young adult Haitian
friends- Jothson, Pascal, and Kerline. All three of these people are very close to my heart. They
speak English quite well, and always serve as our translators many times. I have been a guest at
their homes.
The dirt roads were full of big ruts, and there was mud everywhere. We were all dressed up for
church, but I was wearing sneakers because I knew I couldn’t navigate those ditches and mud
puddles without them. Kerline, however, a beautiful 21 year old woman, adeptly negotiated
around the ruts in her high heels.
We came to a place in the road that was covered with water. In order to continue on, we had to
walk from rock to rock in the puddles. My friends held my hands, but I still managed to slip off
a rock and land in the water. With mud up to my ankles, now, I wondered how I could ever make
it to church.
My young friends laughed at my plight, and without a word, brought me over to the nearest
house- a hut, in our standards. As if pre-planned, a homemade cane chair appeared in the yard,
and they sat me down. Kerline took my shoes off and headed over to a pump to wash them.
Jothson went to fetch a bucket of water, and seeing my distress, patted my shoulder, laughing,
telling me not to worry. Before I knew it, my young friend Pascal was washing my feet. As he
squatted down and tenderly wiped the mud off each foot, I said to him “Pascal….you remind
me of Jesus.”
You see, I thought I was there to serve the Haitians, and in true biblical reversal of roles, the
Haitians were serving me.
Having your feet washed is not a comfortable thing. Washing someone else’s feet is equally as
disconcerting. So, why do we do it on Maundy Thursday?
We do it, of course, to remember that Jesus commanded his disciples to love one and serve one
another. The act of washing their feet before they ate their last supper together was the most
humble way he could demonstrate the radical love and desire to serve them that he had. John
13:1 ? tells us that Jesus “showed them the full extent of his love.”
We, too, are to love and serve each other
You can see in your bulletin that you’ll have the opportunity to participate in this right after this
homily. If you choose. I hope you do choose.
Why do we do this? Presumably, we want to emulate Jesus. The humility, love, and act of
service that Jesus displayed when he surprised his disciples during their Last Supper together to
perform this act.
At first, the disciples bristled. “You will NEVER wash my feet”, Peter says. But Jesus
admonishes him that unless he allows this humble, pious act to occur, then Peter will “have no
share” with Jesus.
Most of us, bristle, too, when it comes to foot washing. “You will NEVER wash my feet”, we
think or even say out loud, when it is offered on Maundy Thursday. Feet are smelly, ugly, dirty.
It’s awkward. It’s embarrassing. It’s uncomfortable. Instead of identifying with Jesus, we
identify with Peter in this story. Peter was embarrassed to have Jesus, his master, treat him as if
the roles were switched and Jesus was the servant instead. Jesus’ message was to reassure Peter
that there is no greater or lesser person in the eyes of God. Everyone can serve, and everyone
can be served.
I am certainly not going to shame you into having your feet washed tonight, or even try to
convince you. But I do want to share a story with you that changed my own feelings about foot
washing.
A few years ago, I was in Haiti on a mission trip with some members of my sponsoring church,
St. Paul’s in Dedham. It was October of 2008, and our trip took place just after a series of
powerful hurricanes had afflicted the country. I was walking to church on a Sunday morning,
along the unpaved road in the rural village of Juampas. With me were three young adult Haitian
friends- Jothson, Pascal, and Kerline. All three of these people are very close to my heart. They
speak English quite well, and always serve as our translators many times. I have been a guest at
their homes.
The dirt roads were full of big ruts, and there was mud everywhere. We were all dressed up for
church, but I was wearing sneakers because I knew I couldn’t navigate those ditches and mud
puddles without them. Kerline, however, a beautiful 21 year old woman, adeptly negotiated
around the ruts in her high heels.
We came to a place in the road that was covered with water. In order to continue on, we had to
walk from rock to rock in the puddles. My friends held my hands, but I still managed to slip off
a rock and land in the water. With mud up to my ankles, now, I wondered how I could ever make
it to church.
My young friends laughed at my plight, and without a word, brought me over to the nearest
house- a hut, in our standards. As if pre-planned, a homemade cane chair appeared in the yard,
and they sat me down. Kerline took my shoes off and headed over to a pump to wash them.
Jothson went to fetch a bucket of water, and seeing my distress, patted my shoulder, laughing,
telling me not to worry. Before I knew it, my young friend Pascal was washing my feet. As he
squatted down and tenderly wiped the mud off each foot, I said to him “Pascal….you remind
me of Jesus.”
You see, I thought I was there to serve the Haitians, and in true biblical reversal of roles, the
Haitians were serving me.
Having your feet washed is not a comfortable thing. Washing someone else’s feet is equally as
disconcerting. So, why do we do it on Maundy Thursday?
We do it, of course, to remember that Jesus commanded his disciples to love one and serve one
another. The act of washing their feet before they ate their last supper together was the most
humble way he could demonstrate the radical love and desire to serve them that he had. John
13:1 ? tells us that Jesus “showed them the full extent of his love.”
We, too, are to love and serve each other
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Palm Sunday - Lynn Campbell
Mt 21:1-11, Philippians 2:5-11, Mt 27: 11-54
Today, Palm Sunday, we begin again. Whatever your Lent has been, this is now Holy Week, the most sacred week of the Christian year. We are invited to make the choice to enter more deeply into the journey of Jesus to Jerusalem and ultimately to the cross. We are called to let go of our fears and our false loves and to instead walk with Jesus in his suffering.
Offering any reflection on Holy Week, especially after the reading of the Passion narrative, is a daunting task. How can words ever adequately reflect the mystery of Jesus’ death on the cross? For me this is a time in which words fail to satisfy. I think our Church, in her wisdom, also knows this to be true. So, on this Holy day and during this Holy week, we are offered other ways – a liturgical path – on which to enter into the great Mystery of our faith.
We are embodied people and we need external signs to help us take in the importance of this Sunday and the importance of this truly Holy Week.
As you walked into the sanctuary this morning, you knew something was different. The altar hangings have changed from the purple of Lent to this beautiful deep red, we were given palms to hold, and we have palms rather than flowers on the high altar. The liturgy even started in a way that is different from any others.
And the scriptures, the stories for this day. We don’t just hear them. We experience them. We move quickly from the passionate and hopeful shouts of “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” to the condemning shouts of “Let him be crucified!” Palm Sunday always gives me the feeling of emotional and spiritual whiplash. I can never seem to make sense of the shift from Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem to his death on the cross. But in my confusion, I can imagine how extraordinarily difficult it was for Jesus -- how painful, how horrible -- to reconcile that his journey had come to this.
We don’t just think about this journey in our minds or our words. We come to know this reality with our bodies. The Church offers us ways to enter more fully into this Mystery of Jesus passion and death. We do this later in the week with the liturgies of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. In the powerful liturgy of Maundy Thursday we remember the Last Supper shared with Jesus and his disciples. And as Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, we will wash one another’s feet as a symbolic act of love and service to our sisters and brothers.
On Good Friday, through Scripture, prayer, and music, we will meditate on the suffering and crucifixion of Jesus. We will sit still, grieving, scared, with Jesus who, in the words from today’s letter of Paul to the Philippians, “emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”
Holy Week is not like every other week. Life is different this week. We intentionally journey with Jesus, in our prayer and in our actions, to the darkness of the grave. Perhaps you will do this through attending the Holy Week liturgies this week or maybe through your own prayer and meditation with Scripture. Whatever path you choose, please choose one. Allow your heart to be transformed by the humility and obedience of Jesus to the will of God. Empty yourself of those things that keep you from walking with Jesus. Open yourself to become a new creation.
As Christians we know that death does not have the last word. We know that love overcomes fear and the life is victorious over death. But we cannot experience this new life and love without journeying with Jesus to the cross. May God be with us on the journey.
Today, Palm Sunday, we begin again. Whatever your Lent has been, this is now Holy Week, the most sacred week of the Christian year. We are invited to make the choice to enter more deeply into the journey of Jesus to Jerusalem and ultimately to the cross. We are called to let go of our fears and our false loves and to instead walk with Jesus in his suffering.
Offering any reflection on Holy Week, especially after the reading of the Passion narrative, is a daunting task. How can words ever adequately reflect the mystery of Jesus’ death on the cross? For me this is a time in which words fail to satisfy. I think our Church, in her wisdom, also knows this to be true. So, on this Holy day and during this Holy week, we are offered other ways – a liturgical path – on which to enter into the great Mystery of our faith.
We are embodied people and we need external signs to help us take in the importance of this Sunday and the importance of this truly Holy Week.
As you walked into the sanctuary this morning, you knew something was different. The altar hangings have changed from the purple of Lent to this beautiful deep red, we were given palms to hold, and we have palms rather than flowers on the high altar. The liturgy even started in a way that is different from any others.
And the scriptures, the stories for this day. We don’t just hear them. We experience them. We move quickly from the passionate and hopeful shouts of “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” to the condemning shouts of “Let him be crucified!” Palm Sunday always gives me the feeling of emotional and spiritual whiplash. I can never seem to make sense of the shift from Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem to his death on the cross. But in my confusion, I can imagine how extraordinarily difficult it was for Jesus -- how painful, how horrible -- to reconcile that his journey had come to this.
We don’t just think about this journey in our minds or our words. We come to know this reality with our bodies. The Church offers us ways to enter more fully into this Mystery of Jesus passion and death. We do this later in the week with the liturgies of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. In the powerful liturgy of Maundy Thursday we remember the Last Supper shared with Jesus and his disciples. And as Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, we will wash one another’s feet as a symbolic act of love and service to our sisters and brothers.
On Good Friday, through Scripture, prayer, and music, we will meditate on the suffering and crucifixion of Jesus. We will sit still, grieving, scared, with Jesus who, in the words from today’s letter of Paul to the Philippians, “emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”
Holy Week is not like every other week. Life is different this week. We intentionally journey with Jesus, in our prayer and in our actions, to the darkness of the grave. Perhaps you will do this through attending the Holy Week liturgies this week or maybe through your own prayer and meditation with Scripture. Whatever path you choose, please choose one. Allow your heart to be transformed by the humility and obedience of Jesus to the will of God. Empty yourself of those things that keep you from walking with Jesus. Open yourself to become a new creation.
As Christians we know that death does not have the last word. We know that love overcomes fear and the life is victorious over death. But we cannot experience this new life and love without journeying with Jesus to the cross. May God be with us on the journey.
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