Ex. 20:1-17; John 2:13-22
Be of Good Courage
I once heard the definition of courage as fear that has said its prayers. This morning I would like to speak to you about courage. Now the courage I am going to reflect with you about is not necessarily the kind of courage that soldiers display in battle; although that image is the kind of courage we might think of first. Rather, the kind of courage I am referring to is the courage to stand up for an unpopular cause.
I would like to reflect with you on the kind of courage that allows a person to seek help when confronted with addiction, to get out bed when dealing with deep depression, or to speak the truth in love, as St. Paul writes, when there could be the cost of a job, the cost of a friendship, or maybe the cost of one's life. Our Hebrew text from Exodus and our reading from John speak about the cost of discipleship and how it takes courage to be a follower of Jesus Christ.
I am reminded of another definition of courage from William Shakespeare's play, Julius Caesar, when Caesar says to Cassius, "cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once." Only the valiant know the cost of discipleship and in Rome it would not be their soldiers who were courageous but those men and women who resisted Roman power to find their way to freedom and to a new life in Christ.
When Julius Caesar died, it was the advent of Rome's growing power over the world. By the time of Jesus' birth over 70% of the known world was enslaved by the Romans. The sun rose and set on men and women who would never taste the air of freedom. To most, it was only a dream. Through military might, economic sanctions, and paid vassals, Rome was able to enslave foreigners and captives and to stamp out all rebellion with punishing results. It was into this world that Jesus was born.
As a boy, Jesus went with his parents to Jerusalem as all pious Jews were encouraged to do especially at the time of the Feast of the Passover which recalled the Israelites eventual liberation from the Egyptians by Moses. The Temple in Jerusalem was the heart and the soul of Jesus' people. The holy building was created and assembled under the orders of King Herod, a well known vassal of the Emperor Tiberius. Inside the Temple the people would offer sacrifices in thanksgiving to God by paying for a bird, such as a dove, to give to the priests as an offering. People would have to pay with Roman coins and then given their tokens of sacrifice to be offered.
As Jesus grew up, we can imagine how hard the people of Nazareth worked. Scraping together enough money to leave work, make the journey to Jerusalem, and then give their hard earned wages to the priest. When Jesus grew into his public ministry one of his first acts, according to the Gospel of John, was to go to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover with his disciples. Seeing his people year after year give their wages to the Temple priests using Roman money to buy the sacrificial offerings was a defilement of the Temple and all it stood for as a visible tribute and sign of God.
Some people might say that Jesus lost his temper. He was not himself. He lost it. He made a bullwhip, poured the coins out onto the floor of the Temple, overturned the money changers tables,and rebuked them sternly. Then Jesus added the cryptic remark, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." I don't know about you, but I find this incident early in Jesus' public ministry disturbing. Many of us tend to think of Jesus meek and mild. His demeanor is more one of gentleness and tenderness. Not here. He is like a lion here. No wonder C.S. Lewis used the image of Aslan, the Lion, to portray symbolically Jesus.
From this moment on Jesus is targeted for arrest and tattooed for death. But, up to this moment, Jesus was not marked. Yes, he was well known as healer; and true, he was a rabbi of renown. Yet, now he steps into the darkness of evil; and it will be this interplay between light and darkness that will be a hallmark of John's Gospel. Yet, into this wilderness of darkness, Jesus' courage, would lead his people, and all people for all time, into the everlasting life and light of the living God. Instead of a Temple made of marble, ivory and stone, it would be made through the body and blood of Jesus Christ.
Jesus shows us the face of courage. He shows us his humanity in full view with his righteous anger for the injustice and oppression laid upon his people by greedy and powerful people. You and I do not have to look far to see that greed and power are still with us when we look to Darfur, Syria, and to our country where people are out of work, still without adequate healthcare, where violence in our cities goes unabated. The picture that is ingrained in my mind of courage is the picture of the unknown man standing in front of four tanks during the Tiannimen Square uprising. If you notice the man he is carrying a bag in his left hand as if he had made a choice of rather going to his office like a good worker, he went the other way and walked out on the Tarmac and stood in front of the tanks as a silent witness to freedom. An ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances. He follows in a successive line of courageous people like Rosa Parks, Gandhi, Joan of Arc, St. Stephen, and Moses.
Through the courage of Moses and Aaron in the face of the Pharaoh's power that the people were lead from slavery into freedom. And, it was in the wilderness that the people were given a guidepost for living a faithful life in God through the Ten Commandments. I know people riff on the Commandments as the ten suggestions as if they could be taken or left. Yet, for those Israelites they were a gift from God. By keeping the Commandments, God would always be their God through thick and thin, through wind and fire, through war and peace.
The Commandments were given by God to Moses on two tablets. One was God centered; and the other one was neighbor centered. They offered a direct edict from God about how to live with faith, compassion, and courage. Keep the Commandments and I will keep you. Through the centuries, the Ten Commandments have served as the guideposts for Jews and Christians alike. I am sure many of you have seen or remembered the Commandments posted in churches, homes, and even in public places. Over time, these reminders have been either replaced, removed or forgotten. Yet, I would offer to us that they are as much a gift to you and me as they were to those first men and women who saw them.
Of all the Commandments which hold equal value, the one that reminds us to be courageous people, like Jesus was in the Temple, is the one in the middle of the Commandments about keeping the Sabbath daily holy. It reminds us of creation and how God rested. It reminds us of liberation and freedom that the Israelites enjoyed as they left their yokes behind to find a promised land of milk and honey. It reminds us of the Resurrection of the Lord's Day that every Sunday is Easter as we celebrate our Lord's life, death and resurrection and are connected to God and one another through the Holy Eucharist. To practice Sabbath is to take a leap of faith.
During the Lent, this Commandment of keeping the Sabbath Day holy is a reminder of how far we can stray from God's hope for us. It takes courage to take a time-out, a real time-out. Consider how you make time for God. Consider how you make time for joy. Consider when was the last time you intentionally took time for joy. When we are faced with tough decisions or seem to be falling into the abyss of anxiety God has given us, even commanded us, to take time away from work and from the pressures of life. Read the Commandment carefully because it includes all people - family, friends, aliens and strangers -- even animals -- even all creation. Through God's gift of this commandment all creatures become the same. No rich or poor. No male of female. No black or white. No slave or free. All of creation become as one in this Commandment.
The Sabbath allows us to be free not enslaved to time nor wedded to others' authority nor to the personal, economic, and political forces that eat away at us. Taking Sabbath time allows for all people to long for a better world, to dream the good dreams of God, and to consider alternatives from a world that can fetter us down into slavish, routine lives. Sabbath time is a subversive act. It is countercultural. It is not the way of the world. Sabbath time is the way of God.
Jesus embodies for us the courageous life. He took time with God, considered his options and then acted. And he beckons us to follow his good example to keep our convictions, to live honestly, to stand up for the absent person, to refuse to do something that is wrong. He may push us to the edge of our fears but promises us we will not fall. I am reminded of the poem by Apollinaire, which says,
"Come to the edge. We can't. We are afraid"
"Come to the edge. We can't. We will fall."
"Come to the edge." And they came.
And he pushed them and they flew.
And to God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be all honor and glory. Amen.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Lent I - Skip Windsor
Mark 1:9-15
“Into the Wilderness”
Someone once wrote, “The desert does not allow any compromise.”
Spending a weekend in Death Valley, California, a number of years ago, I came to know that unvarnished truth. I was part of the leadership team of A Christian Ministry in the National Parks. We were staying at an idyllic place called the Furnace Creek Inn that serves as an oasis in the middle of the desert. Surrounded by palm trees, a swimming pool, and all the privileges of a luxury hotel, it is easy to forget that miles of desolate wilderness surrounded you.
I decided one morning to take a hike outside the Inn’s confines and walk out into the desert having seen a small escarpment that appeared not too far away. Its odd outcropping seemed to beckon me. Prepared with hiking boots on and a canteen of water, I felt ready go into the desert. What I did not realize was that my destination was further away than I thought. By the time I reached the escarpment the sun was high, my feet were sore, and my canteen was nearly empty. I was only halfway home. As I rested in a sliver of shade the wall of the escarpment gave me, I thought about how unforgiving the desert can be. What if I sprained or twisted an ankle? What if I got lost and could not find my way back to the Inn? What if I had to survive here?
For a moment the beautiful but unforgiving landscape matched the encroaching desolation I felt inside me. Fortunately, I saw one of the other ministers walking about halfway back to the Inn and I made a bolt for him hoping he carried enough water for the two of us. Mercifully, he did and we walked back to the Inn together with him giving me some sage advice about desert living. That was the day, I came to realize in a very personal way the desert does not compromise.
What does the desert look like to you?
I made a pastoral visit to an old friend of mine several weeks ago who has severe MS. Each movement is a struggle. Each word he speaks must be squeezed out of him. I know a son who grieves for the loss of his mother who recently died. He cannot stop crying. There is a couple I know from my graduate school days that are separating. There is anger, guilt, and remorse. There are still others dealing with aging, loss of sight, physical impairment, arthritis, and soreness. And there are others who are souls coping with mental illness, depression and isolation.
What does your desert look like?
Elizabeth Hamilton, the biographer of Charles de Foucauld the famous Desert Monk, writes,
“The desert is a place where the soul encounters God, but is also a place of extreme desolation – a place of testing, where the soul is flung upon its own resources and therefore upon God. The desert, in this sense, can be anywhere.” (1)
In today’s Gospel reading from Mark, there is a quick succession of events: Jesus is baptized. He is named the beloved Son of God. No sooner is Jesus anointed then he is immediately cast into the wilderness of the desert and tested. After ascending the dizzying heights of baptism, Jesus is plucked and placed in the midst of a diverse group of desert denizens including wild beasts, spirits, angels and, of course, the Tempter, Satan.
Joyce Rupp in her book God’s Enduring Presence writes,
“Jesus did not decide on his own to go into the desert. He was led there by the Spirit. Jesus would probably not have chosen to go there any more than any of us would choose to enter into an extended time of struggle. Yet in those challenging forty days Jesus experienced his inner strength and found a clear direction for his future ministry…”
Rupp continues,
“I can’t imagine any of us liking our own deserts, the parts of our life we want to get rid of as fast as we can: disagreeable relationships, ongoing illness, unsatisfying work, troubling questions about religious beliefs… anything that snatches us from a contented life. We tend to think our desert places are bad places, but could it be the Spirit leads us there to help us know ourselves better? Could it be that our deserts are the very place where we meet our spiritual power, where our faith is strengthened, and the assurance is given that we can, as Jesus did, deliberately choose good in the face of temptation and conflict?” (2)It is said that God takes us places we never thought we would go. It is also true that God takes us places that we thought we would never go. We can learn from Jesus’ experience in the desert. He did not go there alone. He was supported by his relationship his Father through the spirit. Not that it was easy. This does mean that he was immune from the trials and terrors of life: but the Spirit sustained him. He was never alone. It was to this relationship that Jesus clung.
Physical pain, mental pain, prejudice and conflict isolate. It is like being in the wilderness. One feels cut off from family and friends, from one’s community and even from one’s own spirit. In Jesus’ public ministry, he sought to reverse this. Jesus heals a leper cut off from his community, welcomes a tax collector into his inner circle, and gives sight to a blind man by a pool in Bethsaida.
Jesus draws people out of exile and alienation into community; and having been tested himself in the desert, he gives us the comfort that we are never ever alone. Through the Holy Spirit, you and I are assured in faith, that we always have the companionship of the risen Christ in us and with us.
In Lent, among the companions I turn to for support and strength is the 20th century French priest, monk and mystic, Charles de Foucauld whom some have called the unknown disciple of Christ.
He led an active life as a monk and priest but was given permission to dwell as hermit in the Sahara Desert and lived among the Touregs a desert tribal people. His desert experience of solitude, testing and encounter captures the essence of the wilderness experience.
He once said of himself, “I am a monk not a missionary. I am made for silence and not for speech.” The desert became for him his home, his office, and his church. There Pere Charles encountered God and expressed his faith in simple ways of hospitality and charity. Reflecting upon Jesus’ temptation and trials in the desert, he writes,
“Was this 40 day fast a miracle or an example of faith with which we must devote ourselves to penitence counting on God to support us? It seems that Our lord did it to convince us of the strengths we can find within ourselves when, by putting faith in God, we devote ourselves with faith to the fulfillment of everything he asks of us, as impossible as it might seem. The great, divine feat here is faith, trust in God, courage – and not the fasting.” (3)
Where did the desert lead Jesus? The evangelist Mark tells us that Jesus left the desert to preach the Good News of the Gospel message. His public ministry begins to call, proclaim, minister and to heal. He is the beloved. He is the one who survived the wilderness. He knows the manner in which God called him and now the victory he would claim would be one that is shared by all people for all time.
What does your desert look like this Lent? What companions are there with you? Who will you companion through their desert? Lent can serve as a wilderness time for us all to seek and discern, to find solitude and silence, to engage where your strengths lie, and to be transfigured by the Presence of the One who says, “You are my child, the beloved of God.”
Let us pray:
Spirit of God, I will go into the wilderness of my life and trust you are there. Amen.
_______
1. The Desert: An Anthology for Lent, p. 26
2. God’s Enduring Presence, p. 22
3. Scriptural Meditations of Faith, p. 47
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Epiphany VI - Tim Kenslea
Today’s gospel story from the first chapter of Mark has an unsettling ending. Near the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus has just performed one his first healing miracles, curing a man identified as a leper. But this is followed by Jesus “sternly warning” the man to tell no one about the miracle— a warning that the man is of course unable to follow— and then by Jesus being visited by publicity that he does not welcome.
When I saw that the gospel reading was about Jesus curing someone of leprosy, my first thought was that it would be the more familiar tale to many of us, about Jesus healing ten men, only one of whom then comes back to thank him (Luke 17:11-19).
Now that is a preacher-friendly gospel—especially for a volunteer, part-time preacher and moonlighting high school history teacher. It has a nice, useful moral lesson. It’s a special favorite for parents driving home from church who want to review what we learned in church today: Jesus healed ten people. Only one of them came back to say thank you— and two thousand years later we’re still talking about it. Always remember to say thank you!
But here in the first chapter of Mark (and in versions of this same story in Matthew and Luke), one man with leprosy is encountered, and one is cured. What Jesus says after he heals the man is, “See that you say nothing to anyone.”
That’s not preacher-friendly.
So of course I decided to turn my attention to the reading from the Hebrew bible, from the Second Book of Kings.
(By the way, the lectionary schedules this same passage from Second Kings as the first reading when Luke’s story of the healing of ten IS the day’s gospel. It’ll be coming around again in October 2013. You’ll want to be here.)
This story, of the healing of the Aramaean general Na’-aman by the prophet Elisha, is full of drama, personality, controversy, and extreme behavior.
Naaman is a successful general from Aram, where Syria is today. We learn that he has won victories over the Israelites, taken Israelites captive, and brought them home to be his servants.
We also learn that his servants are devoted to him— they seem to worry a lot about his health. And we learn that Naaman listens to his servants, and values their opinions. The Israelite servant girl says, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria,” and before we know it Naaman is asking his King for permission to go find this prophet.
The King of Aram seems to assume that the prophet the servant spoke of is somehow answerable to the King of Israel. He sends Naaman on his search for the prophet by writing a letter to the king, and loading him up with gifts for the king.
More about those gifts in a minute. But first—that’s not the way things are in Israel.
The prophet, Elisha, is a persistent critic of the King. This particular king is Jehoram, the second son of Ahab and Jezebel (2 Kings 3:1-3). He has continued the devotion to the golden calf of his predecessor Jeroboam, and (to some extent) the dreadful worship of the Phoenician god Baal that his parents had promoted.
A few chapters after this, Elisha’s messenger will be the one who anoints Jehu, the faithful army commander who will kill Jehoram and Jezebel in a coup (2 Kings 9:1-13).
By the way, learning this about King Jehoram certainly helped me understand the seemingly surprising statement in the text, that by Naaman, the Lord had given victory to the Aramaeans, Israel’s enemies.
Anyway, Naaman arrives at the palace of Jehoram, bearing as gifts ten talents of silver, 6,000 shekels of gold—and ten sets of garments.
One of the reference sources I consulted told me that this amount of silver would be worth about $2,000, and the gold about $3,300— but that source was published in the mid-1960s, so multiply it times about 15 to get today’s values. Another source told me that it’s approximately 750 pounds of silver and 150 pounds of gold.
Either way, that’s a big load to travel with, and a lavish gift— worth somewhere between $80,000 and a million dollars or more today.
It makes the ten sets of garments seem like a trivial throw-in— a bit like the box of Belgian chocolates you get, if you up your donation and spring for a second dozen Valentine roses from WBUR this week.
Naaman also brings this incomprehensible letter from the King of Aram, and the King of Israel freaks out. Is it a trick? Is he trying to start a war? It never enters the Israelite King’s mind that the letter refers to the prophet Elisha— just as it never entered the Aramaean King’s mind that Jehoram might not have control over the prophets who live in his kingdom.
Elisha, we learn, has access to some very good intelligence. Somehow he hears of Naaman’s visit to King Jehoram, and he sends an imperious message to the King : “Let him come to me.”
So Naaman goes to Elisha’s house, and now it’s his turn to get angry. Naaman bristles when Elisha won’t come out to greet him, and again when he hears a message bearing Elisha’s simple instructions to bathe seven times in the River Jordan. Is that all?
Naaman doesn’t do things the easy way, ever. Just after the passage we heard today, we will learn that once he’s cured, Naaman will try to load up two mules with earth from the land of Israel. When he returns home, you see, he wants to be able to pray and offer sacrifices while standing on the soil of Israel, because, he says, “there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”
This time, though, Naaman listens to his servants again. And here’s what they say: “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it?”
This seems to me to be the essential lesson that ties together today’s readings about men cured of leprosy.
It’s a warning against the sin of pride— in this case, the pride that says that for the practice of our faith to be true, it must be difficult.
Naaman’s servants remind him that faith doesn’t have to be difficult, especially if that difficulty only serves to reinforce his own sense of specialness. He just needs to listen and pay attention to what the Lord is really asking of him. As we all do. And sometimes we need to accept that that might be something very simple.
We don’t have to practice the faith heroically— just faithfully.
Now some people are called to do great and wondrous deeds, which Naaman certainly had done in his career as a general. Members of our own parish are called to an astonishing number of heroic missions, in the city and around the world, up to and including the work of medical missioners to Haiti.
And sometimes we are called the way Naaman is called in this story— to simple acts of devotion and service, of faith and love.
This brings us back to Mark’s Gospel, where Jesus and the man he cures of leprosy have a conversation very similar, in its import, to the one between Naaman and his servants.
You see, the conversation I should have focused on in the Gospel is the one that takes place before the healing, not after.
Jesus and the man he will cure both utter two phrases, and they are mirror images of each other.
The sick man says, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
The words call to mind the essential phrase in the Lord’s Prayer— “Thy will be done.” This man seems to understand this part intuitively, acknowledging it by saying to Jesus, “If you choose. . . .”
Jesus replies, “I do choose. Be made clean.”
Jesus’ response to the sick man’s simple profession of faith is just as simple, but it goes to the heart of his redemptive mission.
“I do choose.”
The promise behind this exchange is: If we are faithful, so will Jesus be. The one thing we all must do is to humbly profess our faith in him— faith that he will choose to make us clean, to set us free— and then to trust that all the rest of our calling will grow from that
And oh yes— don’t forget to say thank you!
When I saw that the gospel reading was about Jesus curing someone of leprosy, my first thought was that it would be the more familiar tale to many of us, about Jesus healing ten men, only one of whom then comes back to thank him (Luke 17:11-19).
Now that is a preacher-friendly gospel—especially for a volunteer, part-time preacher and moonlighting high school history teacher. It has a nice, useful moral lesson. It’s a special favorite for parents driving home from church who want to review what we learned in church today: Jesus healed ten people. Only one of them came back to say thank you— and two thousand years later we’re still talking about it. Always remember to say thank you!
But here in the first chapter of Mark (and in versions of this same story in Matthew and Luke), one man with leprosy is encountered, and one is cured. What Jesus says after he heals the man is, “See that you say nothing to anyone.”
That’s not preacher-friendly.
So of course I decided to turn my attention to the reading from the Hebrew bible, from the Second Book of Kings.
(By the way, the lectionary schedules this same passage from Second Kings as the first reading when Luke’s story of the healing of ten IS the day’s gospel. It’ll be coming around again in October 2013. You’ll want to be here.)
This story, of the healing of the Aramaean general Na’-aman by the prophet Elisha, is full of drama, personality, controversy, and extreme behavior.
Naaman is a successful general from Aram, where Syria is today. We learn that he has won victories over the Israelites, taken Israelites captive, and brought them home to be his servants.
We also learn that his servants are devoted to him— they seem to worry a lot about his health. And we learn that Naaman listens to his servants, and values their opinions. The Israelite servant girl says, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria,” and before we know it Naaman is asking his King for permission to go find this prophet.
The King of Aram seems to assume that the prophet the servant spoke of is somehow answerable to the King of Israel. He sends Naaman on his search for the prophet by writing a letter to the king, and loading him up with gifts for the king.
More about those gifts in a minute. But first—that’s not the way things are in Israel.
The prophet, Elisha, is a persistent critic of the King. This particular king is Jehoram, the second son of Ahab and Jezebel (2 Kings 3:1-3). He has continued the devotion to the golden calf of his predecessor Jeroboam, and (to some extent) the dreadful worship of the Phoenician god Baal that his parents had promoted.
A few chapters after this, Elisha’s messenger will be the one who anoints Jehu, the faithful army commander who will kill Jehoram and Jezebel in a coup (2 Kings 9:1-13).
By the way, learning this about King Jehoram certainly helped me understand the seemingly surprising statement in the text, that by Naaman, the Lord had given victory to the Aramaeans, Israel’s enemies.
Anyway, Naaman arrives at the palace of Jehoram, bearing as gifts ten talents of silver, 6,000 shekels of gold—and ten sets of garments.
One of the reference sources I consulted told me that this amount of silver would be worth about $2,000, and the gold about $3,300— but that source was published in the mid-1960s, so multiply it times about 15 to get today’s values. Another source told me that it’s approximately 750 pounds of silver and 150 pounds of gold.
Either way, that’s a big load to travel with, and a lavish gift— worth somewhere between $80,000 and a million dollars or more today.
It makes the ten sets of garments seem like a trivial throw-in— a bit like the box of Belgian chocolates you get, if you up your donation and spring for a second dozen Valentine roses from WBUR this week.
Naaman also brings this incomprehensible letter from the King of Aram, and the King of Israel freaks out. Is it a trick? Is he trying to start a war? It never enters the Israelite King’s mind that the letter refers to the prophet Elisha— just as it never entered the Aramaean King’s mind that Jehoram might not have control over the prophets who live in his kingdom.
Elisha, we learn, has access to some very good intelligence. Somehow he hears of Naaman’s visit to King Jehoram, and he sends an imperious message to the King : “Let him come to me.”
So Naaman goes to Elisha’s house, and now it’s his turn to get angry. Naaman bristles when Elisha won’t come out to greet him, and again when he hears a message bearing Elisha’s simple instructions to bathe seven times in the River Jordan. Is that all?
Naaman doesn’t do things the easy way, ever. Just after the passage we heard today, we will learn that once he’s cured, Naaman will try to load up two mules with earth from the land of Israel. When he returns home, you see, he wants to be able to pray and offer sacrifices while standing on the soil of Israel, because, he says, “there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”
This time, though, Naaman listens to his servants again. And here’s what they say: “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it?”
This seems to me to be the essential lesson that ties together today’s readings about men cured of leprosy.
It’s a warning against the sin of pride— in this case, the pride that says that for the practice of our faith to be true, it must be difficult.
Naaman’s servants remind him that faith doesn’t have to be difficult, especially if that difficulty only serves to reinforce his own sense of specialness. He just needs to listen and pay attention to what the Lord is really asking of him. As we all do. And sometimes we need to accept that that might be something very simple.
We don’t have to practice the faith heroically— just faithfully.
Now some people are called to do great and wondrous deeds, which Naaman certainly had done in his career as a general. Members of our own parish are called to an astonishing number of heroic missions, in the city and around the world, up to and including the work of medical missioners to Haiti.
And sometimes we are called the way Naaman is called in this story— to simple acts of devotion and service, of faith and love.
This brings us back to Mark’s Gospel, where Jesus and the man he cures of leprosy have a conversation very similar, in its import, to the one between Naaman and his servants.
You see, the conversation I should have focused on in the Gospel is the one that takes place before the healing, not after.
Jesus and the man he will cure both utter two phrases, and they are mirror images of each other.
The sick man says, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”
The words call to mind the essential phrase in the Lord’s Prayer— “Thy will be done.” This man seems to understand this part intuitively, acknowledging it by saying to Jesus, “If you choose. . . .”
Jesus replies, “I do choose. Be made clean.”
Jesus’ response to the sick man’s simple profession of faith is just as simple, but it goes to the heart of his redemptive mission.
“I do choose.”
The promise behind this exchange is: If we are faithful, so will Jesus be. The one thing we all must do is to humbly profess our faith in him— faith that he will choose to make us clean, to set us free— and then to trust that all the rest of our calling will grow from that
And oh yes— don’t forget to say thank you!
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Epiphany IV - Skip Windsor
Be The Church
“In the name of God, creator, redeemer and sanctifier.” Amen.
You and I gather this morning as a church family. Many of you have already greeted friends, received maybe a handshake or a hug, or taken the children to Children’s Chapel. Others of you may have entered church quietly by arriving early to hear the choir rehearse, come through the side door without notice, or entered for the first time to be greeted by one of our ushers.
Regardless, of how you came into church this morning, you are here. And you and I are family.
I know for some people the idea of calling ourselves a “family” may have unsettling or disturbing connotations. Perhaps, it recalls an old fashion, even nostalgic, definition that no longer works. Yet, what word may we use to adequately describe ourselves? I cannot think of a better way to define church community than by using the word “family.”
I am reminded of the story of the small boy who stood shivering over a steel grate on a bitterly cold day in a western city. His clothes were tattered, torn and threadbare. A woman, appropriately dressed for the weather, stopped and engaged the youngster in conversation. Sensing he was a child of the streets, the woman took him to a clothing store and outfitted him from head to toe including cap, scarf, coat, gloves and socks.
The boy was filled with happiness and gratitude. He could not thank her enough.
As they said good-bye and walked in opposite directions, the elated lad turned back to ask, “Are you God’s mother?” The woman answered, “Oh no! I am a child of God.
Whereupon the smiling boy remarked, “I knew you were related.”
In God, you and I are relatives. Family. The words from Psalm 133:1 may be helpful when the psalmist writes, “How good and pleasant it is when kindred dwell together in unity.” Perhaps an enhanced definition of a church family would the phrase “kindred dwelling together in unity.”
So as we gather this morning on the day of our annual meeting as spiritual relatives, it is appropriate to pause and reflect about our relationship in Jesus Christ. And as a family of Christians, you and I, are here to worship together, to pray together, and to share the Eucharist together.
Electing lay leaders today remind us on such occasions that we are an apostolic community who continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, breaking bread together and being in fellowship with one another.
This morning is the usual time when the rector gives a state of the parish address. After hearing the State of the State Address and the State of the Union Address, you may be exhausted from hearing one more “State of… Addresses.” I do not think you came here necessarily this morning to hear me recite the triumphs and successes of the past year.
I do not think you want to know in more detail in my sermon about what the staff, the vestry and the ministries are doing right now. That time will come later when you will hear about those leaders and programs at the annual meeting; and, as a plug, I encourage you to attend the A/M after our worship service for there is a good story to tell about Christ Church over this past year.
For our brief time together now, I would like to reflect with you on how we can maintain and sustain the energy, the inspiration, and the spirit that has brought us this far. We ought to be mindful not to judge our accomplishments by standards less than the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For it is more important to be faithful than successful.
In the Gospel lesson for today from Mark, we hear about a strange even bizarre encounter; but it is easy to get side tracked by thinking of today’s gospel lesson as just an odd, even supernatural story. This reading seems more geared for a Halloween than it does for the 4th Sunday after the Epiphany. It has all the makings of a horror story with a demon possessed man and people who are perplexed and scared.
In Jesus’ time there was no such word as pathology; and certainly the idea of being possessed was not psychological ailment but supernatural one. In Jesus’ time such people were shunned, isolated, and marginalized because they were considered outcasts and religiously “impure.” The evangelist, Mark, includes the encounter with the demon possessed man and Jesus for two reasons.
The first is that the first people to recognize that Jesus is the Son of God is not Peter and the other disciples. Rather, the first ones to acknowledge Jesus’ supernatural authority is another supernatural being. Throughout Mark, it will be supernatural figures who will recognize that the supernatural power of Jesus first. It will be a journey of discovery for Peter and the other disciples that through Jesus they will also be given authority over demonic forces to heal and to speak truth to power.
The second reason Mark includes this meeting with the demon possessed man is how others witnessed and responded Jesus in the synagogue: He speaks with authority. Notice, the writer does not recount what Jesus actually said. Mark merely states that Jesus taught them as one having authority. And the people respond to his words and to his healing as a New Teaching.
Up until this time, the people of Israel were taught first by the patriarchs and matriarchs, the lawgivers and the prophets, and the Pharisee and scribes; but now Jesus offers a new teaching that will be available directly to all people and not intercepted and interpreted only by the religious leaders.
This New Teaching of Jesus would be a reformation of the Jewish Shema taken from the Hebrew Scriptures, which commands that one should love the Lord, your God with all your heart and your entire mind; and, Jesus adds the second is similar: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
This New Teaching, this new commandment Jesus would continue to incarnate throughout his public ministry inspiring his followers to do the same even if it led to persecution, suffering, and betrayal. But he also promised that if anyone would imitate him they would find the joy and grace of a renewed and restored life in him.
In Jesus’ life and teaching he speaks of a kingdom that is for all people who come from all sections of society. It is a Samaritan who shows us how to be a good neighbor, a businessman who shows us how to use our talents, a wine stewards who shows us how to trust, an old woman who shows us how to rejoice, a host who shows us hospitality by inviting strangers into his house, the father who shows us generosity welcoming back a lost son, a tourist who shows us courage by picking up the cross. There is no seat for the mighty in this kingdom. It is marked by humility, compassion and faith.
As the family of God, you and I are given a different kind of authority through the Holy Spirit to do the work of Christ, to be the mind of Christ, the heart of Christ, the hands of Christ. I believe the challenge for Christians today is to be bold and beholden only to God. The chosen vehicle for God’s redeeming and reconciling work in this kingdom of God is the church, the laos, the laity: You.
If there were a truth to tell you this morning it would be that you are the church and Christ Church is your church. Not mine. Not Lynn’s. Not Bud’s. Not Bishop Shaw’s. Not the clergy. It is the laity. You are church. It is Jesus’ legacy and gift to you, your forebears and your children and children’s children. Christ Church cannot exist in a vacuum. In order for you to continue to thrive and do the good work you are doing you will have to own it and own it deeply.
During this season of Epiphany consider your call and remember through Jesus Christ that you are a light to the world.
Up in Maine there is a lighthouse called Two Bush; and it’s light marks the way into the Mussel Ridge Channel and Penobscot Bay. It warns the vessels about nearby shoals. It’s beacon welcomes vessels into safe harbors and returns them back to the sea. And these boats are big and small from lobster boats and yawls to supertankers and great ocean liners. The lighthouse keeps all these vessels safe so that they can go off to far off ports and deliver its cargo. The beacon light remains on. It must stay on.
Like Two Bush Light, Christ Church is a beacon of light that shines as close as Highland Street and as far away as Haiti. You, Christ Church, are the lighthouse and you are its keepers. And through your God given gifts that you share in this community more work than any of us can imagine is being done.
Although the physical presence of Jesus is not with us, He is with us and he will give us the will and perseverance, the strength and the faith, to weather any tempestuous winds or strong currents that pull us away from the self-giving love known through his life, death and resurrection.
Sometimes when I am alone in this church, I enjoy the stillness and the beauty of this sanctuary. It is the same in the chapel. But, after a few minutes, I feel a yearning. I feel as if I am missing something. I realize I am missing the sound of the organ played by Jane, the voices of the men and women in the choir, the firm hands and gentle hugs at the Peace, the children with me around the baptismal fount. Then I realize that what I am missing. I am missing you. You are the Church to me. We are the church for one other.
If I could only underscore one invitation to you it would be to be the Church. Be the church to all people. Be the church to the poor and the forgotten. Be the church to friend and neighbor. Be the church to young and old alike. Be the church to God’s creation. Be the church that points to horizons of hope. Be the transforming church. Be the church God calls you to be: The light. Community. Kindred. Family.
To maintain and sustain the good work of ministry and mission of Christ Church remember who you are and whose you are: the beloved family of God. As St. Paul writes in Romans: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God who are called according to his purpose” (8:28).
Let us pray:
Most gracious and loving God, we thank you for the gift of your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ, who is the light of the world. We pray give us his light through your Holy and life giving Spirit to be faithful disciples in word and deed do your will in the world and to promote the well-being of all people and to be faithful stewards of your creation. Remember us for good that as we are related to you we never forget we are related to one another through your Church. All this we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
“In the name of God, creator, redeemer and sanctifier.” Amen.
You and I gather this morning as a church family. Many of you have already greeted friends, received maybe a handshake or a hug, or taken the children to Children’s Chapel. Others of you may have entered church quietly by arriving early to hear the choir rehearse, come through the side door without notice, or entered for the first time to be greeted by one of our ushers.
Regardless, of how you came into church this morning, you are here. And you and I are family.
I know for some people the idea of calling ourselves a “family” may have unsettling or disturbing connotations. Perhaps, it recalls an old fashion, even nostalgic, definition that no longer works. Yet, what word may we use to adequately describe ourselves? I cannot think of a better way to define church community than by using the word “family.”
I am reminded of the story of the small boy who stood shivering over a steel grate on a bitterly cold day in a western city. His clothes were tattered, torn and threadbare. A woman, appropriately dressed for the weather, stopped and engaged the youngster in conversation. Sensing he was a child of the streets, the woman took him to a clothing store and outfitted him from head to toe including cap, scarf, coat, gloves and socks.
The boy was filled with happiness and gratitude. He could not thank her enough.
As they said good-bye and walked in opposite directions, the elated lad turned back to ask, “Are you God’s mother?” The woman answered, “Oh no! I am a child of God.
Whereupon the smiling boy remarked, “I knew you were related.”
In God, you and I are relatives. Family. The words from Psalm 133:1 may be helpful when the psalmist writes, “How good and pleasant it is when kindred dwell together in unity.” Perhaps an enhanced definition of a church family would the phrase “kindred dwelling together in unity.”
So as we gather this morning on the day of our annual meeting as spiritual relatives, it is appropriate to pause and reflect about our relationship in Jesus Christ. And as a family of Christians, you and I, are here to worship together, to pray together, and to share the Eucharist together.
Electing lay leaders today remind us on such occasions that we are an apostolic community who continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, breaking bread together and being in fellowship with one another.
This morning is the usual time when the rector gives a state of the parish address. After hearing the State of the State Address and the State of the Union Address, you may be exhausted from hearing one more “State of… Addresses.” I do not think you came here necessarily this morning to hear me recite the triumphs and successes of the past year.
I do not think you want to know in more detail in my sermon about what the staff, the vestry and the ministries are doing right now. That time will come later when you will hear about those leaders and programs at the annual meeting; and, as a plug, I encourage you to attend the A/M after our worship service for there is a good story to tell about Christ Church over this past year.
For our brief time together now, I would like to reflect with you on how we can maintain and sustain the energy, the inspiration, and the spirit that has brought us this far. We ought to be mindful not to judge our accomplishments by standards less than the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For it is more important to be faithful than successful.
In the Gospel lesson for today from Mark, we hear about a strange even bizarre encounter; but it is easy to get side tracked by thinking of today’s gospel lesson as just an odd, even supernatural story. This reading seems more geared for a Halloween than it does for the 4th Sunday after the Epiphany. It has all the makings of a horror story with a demon possessed man and people who are perplexed and scared.
In Jesus’ time there was no such word as pathology; and certainly the idea of being possessed was not psychological ailment but supernatural one. In Jesus’ time such people were shunned, isolated, and marginalized because they were considered outcasts and religiously “impure.” The evangelist, Mark, includes the encounter with the demon possessed man and Jesus for two reasons.
The first is that the first people to recognize that Jesus is the Son of God is not Peter and the other disciples. Rather, the first ones to acknowledge Jesus’ supernatural authority is another supernatural being. Throughout Mark, it will be supernatural figures who will recognize that the supernatural power of Jesus first. It will be a journey of discovery for Peter and the other disciples that through Jesus they will also be given authority over demonic forces to heal and to speak truth to power.
The second reason Mark includes this meeting with the demon possessed man is how others witnessed and responded Jesus in the synagogue: He speaks with authority. Notice, the writer does not recount what Jesus actually said. Mark merely states that Jesus taught them as one having authority. And the people respond to his words and to his healing as a New Teaching.
Up until this time, the people of Israel were taught first by the patriarchs and matriarchs, the lawgivers and the prophets, and the Pharisee and scribes; but now Jesus offers a new teaching that will be available directly to all people and not intercepted and interpreted only by the religious leaders.
This New Teaching of Jesus would be a reformation of the Jewish Shema taken from the Hebrew Scriptures, which commands that one should love the Lord, your God with all your heart and your entire mind; and, Jesus adds the second is similar: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
This New Teaching, this new commandment Jesus would continue to incarnate throughout his public ministry inspiring his followers to do the same even if it led to persecution, suffering, and betrayal. But he also promised that if anyone would imitate him they would find the joy and grace of a renewed and restored life in him.
In Jesus’ life and teaching he speaks of a kingdom that is for all people who come from all sections of society. It is a Samaritan who shows us how to be a good neighbor, a businessman who shows us how to use our talents, a wine stewards who shows us how to trust, an old woman who shows us how to rejoice, a host who shows us hospitality by inviting strangers into his house, the father who shows us generosity welcoming back a lost son, a tourist who shows us courage by picking up the cross. There is no seat for the mighty in this kingdom. It is marked by humility, compassion and faith.
As the family of God, you and I are given a different kind of authority through the Holy Spirit to do the work of Christ, to be the mind of Christ, the heart of Christ, the hands of Christ. I believe the challenge for Christians today is to be bold and beholden only to God. The chosen vehicle for God’s redeeming and reconciling work in this kingdom of God is the church, the laos, the laity: You.
If there were a truth to tell you this morning it would be that you are the church and Christ Church is your church. Not mine. Not Lynn’s. Not Bud’s. Not Bishop Shaw’s. Not the clergy. It is the laity. You are church. It is Jesus’ legacy and gift to you, your forebears and your children and children’s children. Christ Church cannot exist in a vacuum. In order for you to continue to thrive and do the good work you are doing you will have to own it and own it deeply.
During this season of Epiphany consider your call and remember through Jesus Christ that you are a light to the world.
Up in Maine there is a lighthouse called Two Bush; and it’s light marks the way into the Mussel Ridge Channel and Penobscot Bay. It warns the vessels about nearby shoals. It’s beacon welcomes vessels into safe harbors and returns them back to the sea. And these boats are big and small from lobster boats and yawls to supertankers and great ocean liners. The lighthouse keeps all these vessels safe so that they can go off to far off ports and deliver its cargo. The beacon light remains on. It must stay on.
Like Two Bush Light, Christ Church is a beacon of light that shines as close as Highland Street and as far away as Haiti. You, Christ Church, are the lighthouse and you are its keepers. And through your God given gifts that you share in this community more work than any of us can imagine is being done.
Although the physical presence of Jesus is not with us, He is with us and he will give us the will and perseverance, the strength and the faith, to weather any tempestuous winds or strong currents that pull us away from the self-giving love known through his life, death and resurrection.
Sometimes when I am alone in this church, I enjoy the stillness and the beauty of this sanctuary. It is the same in the chapel. But, after a few minutes, I feel a yearning. I feel as if I am missing something. I realize I am missing the sound of the organ played by Jane, the voices of the men and women in the choir, the firm hands and gentle hugs at the Peace, the children with me around the baptismal fount. Then I realize that what I am missing. I am missing you. You are the Church to me. We are the church for one other.
If I could only underscore one invitation to you it would be to be the Church. Be the church to all people. Be the church to the poor and the forgotten. Be the church to friend and neighbor. Be the church to young and old alike. Be the church to God’s creation. Be the church that points to horizons of hope. Be the transforming church. Be the church God calls you to be: The light. Community. Kindred. Family.
To maintain and sustain the good work of ministry and mission of Christ Church remember who you are and whose you are: the beloved family of God. As St. Paul writes in Romans: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God who are called according to his purpose” (8:28).
Let us pray:
Most gracious and loving God, we thank you for the gift of your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ, who is the light of the world. We pray give us his light through your Holy and life giving Spirit to be faithful disciples in word and deed do your will in the world and to promote the well-being of all people and to be faithful stewards of your creation. Remember us for good that as we are related to you we never forget we are related to one another through your Church. All this we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Epiphany III - Lynn Campbell
“Follow me and I will make you fish for people. And immediately they left their nets and followed him.”
In the name of the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If only it were that easy. If only we could walk up to someone and say, follow me, and they followed. Perhaps that works in the game of follow the leader, but other than that I don’t think it is very practical. So, what was it about Jesus that his simple words, “follow me and I will make you fish for people” were compelling enough that Simon and his brother Andrew and then James and his brother John, dropped everything to follow him. According to the gospel readings Jesus had yet to perform any amazing miracle. The sight of the blind man had not been restored, no one had been raised from the dead, and no demons had been cast out. So, what made these brothers leave their families, leave the source of their income, leave their security behind to take on a new way of life? What compelled them to make this radical change of direction?
Perhaps they heard Jesus speak, and recognized something divine in his words or in his presence. Maybe they heard him announce that “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news” and found these words compelling enough for them to leave everything behind and follow the one who called them.
Have you ever had the experience of being caught up in the nets of your everyday life, your attention focused on the direction you are going- only to have that direction, that focus changed? I’m not just talking about major life changing moments; I’m talking about those smaller moments that can occur in our daily lives. I had one of these experiences two years ago while I was working as a chaplain at our Diocesan summer camp. I was supposed to meet a group of campers by the waterfront to go canoeing. As is typical for me, I was running late. I had my eyes focused towards the water and I was speed walking my way down the hill. But then something compelled me to look to the side. When I did I saw a young camper walking alone along the path. She had her head down and was kicking the dirt with her shoes with each step she took. Something in me knew I had to go over to her. I began walking beside her and asked her how she was doing. It wasn’t long before she told me how sad she felt. How homesick she was for what was familiar, for her parents and her friends. We had a good chat and I was able to work with her counselors and with her fellow cabin members to bring her more into the fold and to help lessen the feelings of homesickness. This encounter had very little to do with me. It was God compelling me to reach out to one of God’s little ones in need. I never did make it to the waterfront that day. The course of my day changed and my eyes remained much more open to the people around me.
I realize now that I had begun walking over to this young camper before I really knew what I was doing. And it makes wonder how much Andrew, Simon, James, and John understood what they were doing. Mark tells us that after hearing Jesus’ call, they IMMEDIATELY left their nets to follow him. They didn’t know what would come next. They didn’t know what would come from following Jesus. But they trusted the compelling nature of the call and the one who called.
I often think the path of discipleship for us is similar. We begin following Jesus’ call without really knowing where it will lead. We are told in scripture that the way of Jesus is the way of life but we don’t really know what that will look like for each of us. We didn’t ask to be called any more than the fishermen in today’s gospel did. Yet each one of us has been called. In our baptism we have been claimed by Jesus Christ and called to follow him. We have not been claimed because of WHO we are, rather because of WHOSE we are. Jesus’ first disciples were not called because they were the well-educated, elite, powerful members of society or because of any great acts of kindness they performed. They were simple fishermen who spent their days on the Sea of Galilee, dropping their nets into the water and hoping to catch some fish. In the same way, we are not called by virtue of our talents or excellence or education. We are called because Jesus has found us and claimed us as his own.
Jesus has found us, and extends an invitation to us. It is an invitation to love as he loves. It is an invitation to go where he went, to see with his eyes, to hear with his ears, and to love with his heart. It is an invitation to walk in the life-changing, world-changing way of Jesus. This invitation, this call to follow Jesus, comes to us each and every day. The way we live out the call will look differently for each one of us. Frederick Buechner, an author and Presbyterian minister writes, "The place God calls you to is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.” This is how he and others define vocation. We often think of vocation as being only for those of us who serving as ordained minister. But the word vocation, coming from the Latin word, vocare, simply means “to call.” Each of us has been called and each of us has a vocation. Your vocation, the place God calls you, is where your passion and deep joy meet a need and a hunger in the world. As Jesus’ disciples, we can’t solve all the problems of the world. We can’t bring about, through our own actions, God’s kingdom of justice and peace, but we can do our small part. We can use the gifts and talents God has given us to feed a hunger in the world. Not all of us are called to provide medical care to people in Haiti, to bring clothes to homeless shelters in Boston, or to knit prayer shawls for people who are hurting but each of us is called to do something.
There are so many needs in our world, so many places to use our gifts in the service of others. We need the eyes to see the hurt, the ears to hear the pain and the wisdom to discover where these pains and our deep gladness meet. It doesn’t help anyone if we are miserable in our service of others. We are not following Jesus if we are miserable with each step. This doesn’t mean we don’t experience suffering. We know that pain is part of the journey. But it does mean that deep down there is a joy in knowing we are loving God by loving others and there is a joy in using our gifts in the service of our sisters and brothers. And it is this gladness, this deep joy, that draws others in. When people see you serving with gladness in your heart, they will want to know more. They will want to share in this joy and they will ask you about it. Here is an opportunity to tell people about the one who has called you to follow him. It is an opportunity to invite others to follow Jesus. And in this way we join Simon, Andrew, James and John and become fisher for people.
I offer again the prayer from this morning’s collect and invite you to hear the words anew:
Let us pray.
Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
In the name of the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If only it were that easy. If only we could walk up to someone and say, follow me, and they followed. Perhaps that works in the game of follow the leader, but other than that I don’t think it is very practical. So, what was it about Jesus that his simple words, “follow me and I will make you fish for people” were compelling enough that Simon and his brother Andrew and then James and his brother John, dropped everything to follow him. According to the gospel readings Jesus had yet to perform any amazing miracle. The sight of the blind man had not been restored, no one had been raised from the dead, and no demons had been cast out. So, what made these brothers leave their families, leave the source of their income, leave their security behind to take on a new way of life? What compelled them to make this radical change of direction?
Perhaps they heard Jesus speak, and recognized something divine in his words or in his presence. Maybe they heard him announce that “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news” and found these words compelling enough for them to leave everything behind and follow the one who called them.
Have you ever had the experience of being caught up in the nets of your everyday life, your attention focused on the direction you are going- only to have that direction, that focus changed? I’m not just talking about major life changing moments; I’m talking about those smaller moments that can occur in our daily lives. I had one of these experiences two years ago while I was working as a chaplain at our Diocesan summer camp. I was supposed to meet a group of campers by the waterfront to go canoeing. As is typical for me, I was running late. I had my eyes focused towards the water and I was speed walking my way down the hill. But then something compelled me to look to the side. When I did I saw a young camper walking alone along the path. She had her head down and was kicking the dirt with her shoes with each step she took. Something in me knew I had to go over to her. I began walking beside her and asked her how she was doing. It wasn’t long before she told me how sad she felt. How homesick she was for what was familiar, for her parents and her friends. We had a good chat and I was able to work with her counselors and with her fellow cabin members to bring her more into the fold and to help lessen the feelings of homesickness. This encounter had very little to do with me. It was God compelling me to reach out to one of God’s little ones in need. I never did make it to the waterfront that day. The course of my day changed and my eyes remained much more open to the people around me.
I realize now that I had begun walking over to this young camper before I really knew what I was doing. And it makes wonder how much Andrew, Simon, James, and John understood what they were doing. Mark tells us that after hearing Jesus’ call, they IMMEDIATELY left their nets to follow him. They didn’t know what would come next. They didn’t know what would come from following Jesus. But they trusted the compelling nature of the call and the one who called.
I often think the path of discipleship for us is similar. We begin following Jesus’ call without really knowing where it will lead. We are told in scripture that the way of Jesus is the way of life but we don’t really know what that will look like for each of us. We didn’t ask to be called any more than the fishermen in today’s gospel did. Yet each one of us has been called. In our baptism we have been claimed by Jesus Christ and called to follow him. We have not been claimed because of WHO we are, rather because of WHOSE we are. Jesus’ first disciples were not called because they were the well-educated, elite, powerful members of society or because of any great acts of kindness they performed. They were simple fishermen who spent their days on the Sea of Galilee, dropping their nets into the water and hoping to catch some fish. In the same way, we are not called by virtue of our talents or excellence or education. We are called because Jesus has found us and claimed us as his own.
Jesus has found us, and extends an invitation to us. It is an invitation to love as he loves. It is an invitation to go where he went, to see with his eyes, to hear with his ears, and to love with his heart. It is an invitation to walk in the life-changing, world-changing way of Jesus. This invitation, this call to follow Jesus, comes to us each and every day. The way we live out the call will look differently for each one of us. Frederick Buechner, an author and Presbyterian minister writes, "The place God calls you to is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.” This is how he and others define vocation. We often think of vocation as being only for those of us who serving as ordained minister. But the word vocation, coming from the Latin word, vocare, simply means “to call.” Each of us has been called and each of us has a vocation. Your vocation, the place God calls you, is where your passion and deep joy meet a need and a hunger in the world. As Jesus’ disciples, we can’t solve all the problems of the world. We can’t bring about, through our own actions, God’s kingdom of justice and peace, but we can do our small part. We can use the gifts and talents God has given us to feed a hunger in the world. Not all of us are called to provide medical care to people in Haiti, to bring clothes to homeless shelters in Boston, or to knit prayer shawls for people who are hurting but each of us is called to do something.
There are so many needs in our world, so many places to use our gifts in the service of others. We need the eyes to see the hurt, the ears to hear the pain and the wisdom to discover where these pains and our deep gladness meet. It doesn’t help anyone if we are miserable in our service of others. We are not following Jesus if we are miserable with each step. This doesn’t mean we don’t experience suffering. We know that pain is part of the journey. But it does mean that deep down there is a joy in knowing we are loving God by loving others and there is a joy in using our gifts in the service of our sisters and brothers. And it is this gladness, this deep joy, that draws others in. When people see you serving with gladness in your heart, they will want to know more. They will want to share in this joy and they will ask you about it. Here is an opportunity to tell people about the one who has called you to follow him. It is an opportunity to invite others to follow Jesus. And in this way we join Simon, Andrew, James and John and become fisher for people.
I offer again the prayer from this morning’s collect and invite you to hear the words anew:
Let us pray.
Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Epiphany I (The Baptism of Our Lord) - Lynn Campbell
Gen 1:1-5, Mk 1:4-11
“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
In the name of the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Was any one else surprised to come into church this morning and hear a story about the adult Jesus? Didn’t we just celebrate his birth? The 12 days of Christmas only ended on Friday. Just 2 days ago we celebrated the Feast of the Epiphany. As a church we remembered the Magi, who after seeing a star rise in the heavens, follow it to Bethlehem where they meet the infant Jesus cradled in the loving arms of his mother Mary. The “wise men” as they are known, traveled a great distance, following the light of the star, because they knew the Messiah had been born. When they came upon Mary and the child, they knelt down and worshipped him. And they offered him the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. This time with the Savior of the world changed them forever. With their visit to that lowly stable, the Christ child was revealed to them and to the world. And that is really what epiphany means, to reveal, to manifest, to make known.
But now, a mere 2 days later we encounter the adult Jesus as he is baptized. This quick leap of 30 years seems a little jarring but I find it helpful to think of the baptism as a continuation of the theme of epiphany. We continue to encounter a God who desires to be known through Jesus Christ. We continue to experience the manifestation, the revelation, of Jesus Christ to all people. This morning, Jesus is made known as God’s Son through his baptism in the river Jordan. John has prepared the way for Jesus. He has preached the confession of sins and repentance to those who followed him and he has baptized them with water. Now Jesus emerges on the scene and presents himself to be baptized. Jesus, without sin, without the need for repentance, humbles himself before God and like each of us, enters the waters of baptism. And what happens as he breaks the surface of the water is probably one of my most favorite lines in all of Scripture: “And as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
God does not want to remain hidden behind the clouds. God does not stay in the celestial realm, separate from the earth God created. No, God breaks through that divide, God takes on human form, AND God speaks a word of love through the heavens that had been torn apart. And the words spoken at this awe inspiring moment? “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” God is revealed as one who loves, one who willingly shares our human nature, one who finds delight in humanity.
How many of us know ourselves as the object of God’s love, of God’s delight? How many of you can hear God say: “You are my daughter, you are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased?” I believe with every ounce of my being that God is speaking those words to you and to me. You are God’s beloved. We might be tempted to say, no, not me. I haven’t done enough to earn this love. But, remember, at this point Jesus had done NOTHING to earn God’s love. And that is exactly what makes this passage is even more amazing. Jesus hears these words BEFORE he has entered into public ministry. BEFORE he began to heal the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked. God simply loves. That is what God does that is what God is. God is love.
I know God’s love can seem abstract. Hard to understand or experience. I was recently speaking with someone who told me she knows she is loved by God but that she only knows it in her head. She has never felt it in her heart. She was worried that she would never really KNOW herself as loved. We talked about ways that we experience ourselves as beloved.
Perhaps you have had someone in your life who has made you feel nothing but loved. You know you didn’t do anything to deserve the love. It was just present. The first person I think of is my grandmother who died two years ago. I knew her death would be hard but I had no idea how hard. A few days after her funeral I had to return to classes at Virginia Theological Seminary where I was taking a class on Spiritual Direction. The instructor for this class was speaking about the importance of knowing that we are loved by God before we can do anything else. He spoke about the people in our lives who show us this unconditional love and used a grandmother as the example. I realized that my grandmother had always shown me this unconditional, unearned love. Her sweet voice, her gentle hands, her encouraging words, all made God’s love real for me. My grandmother’s name was “Thelma Leome Campbell,” making her initials TLC. That seems so appropriate because she always showed be tender, loving, care.
We may not hear the voice of love breaking forth from the skies, but I hope and pray we experience that love of God through the TLC of others. I also pray we can hear it deep in our hearts in prayer or when we receive Christ in the bread and the wine.
And I hope we remember this love when we reflect on our own baptism, whether we were baptized as an infant or as an adult. Just as God’s love is made known in Jesus’ baptism, so too is God’s love for us made known in our own baptism. Today we will witness this love made known in the baptism of Michael Xavier Hitron and we have the opportunity to be reminded of our baptismal commitment. In baptism we are named and claimed. We are brought into the household of God and we are brought into an indissolvable bond of love with the Creator. God has called Michael into this relationship. Today we celebrate with an outward sign, what we already know to be true, God has named Michael as God’s beloved.
But Michael’s baptism, and our own, is not simply a one time event. It is an invitation. It is an invitation to live in relationship with God, an invitation to take seriously the baptismal covenant we will all recommit ourselves to this morning. It is an invitation that asks something of us. Jesus’ baptism wasn’t just for his own spiritual benefit. It was the start of his public ministry. From his baptism he went on to share the love of God with all those he encountered, he went on to serve the poor, to seek justice for the oppressed, and to preach the good news. In our baptism we are empowered with this same Holy Spirit to do the work that God has give us to do, using the gifts God has given to each of us. As God’s beloved, we share this love with others. We do it out of love, not out of fear, guilt, or obligation. We live out our baptismal covenant, we serve God and God’s people, because we have been filled with God’s love and empowered by the Holy Spirit for this work.
These words have become more real to me this week as I prepare for my ordination to the priesthood this coming Saturday. I have been blessed to know the love of God and have felt a call to serve God and share the love of God as a priest. I’m looking forward to standing at the altar next Sunday and celebrating the Eucharist for the first time. I am so eager to share the blessing of God in Word and in Sacrament. But at the core of this ministry is my baptism. Each of us is called to live out our baptism in different ways. There are so many ways to share the love of God and our world certainly is in need of this love.
I hope and pray that Michael and all of us will hear the voice of the God saying, you are my Beloved; in you I am well pleased. And I pray that we let this love sink in deeply so that we can share it with our sisters and brothers. Amen.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Holy Name - Skip Windsor
Numbers 6:22-27
Live Long and Prosper
“Live long and prosper.” For those of us familiar with the TV series Star Trek this was the Vulcan salute consisting of a raised hand, palm outward with fingers parted between the middle and ring finger. The actor Leonard Nimoy who portrayed the half-Vulcan character Dr. Spock on the original series devised the salute.
The accompanying words come from the end of Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet when the grief stricken Romeo bids his friend Balthasar good-bye: “Live and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow” (Act III. Scene V. 42).
The format is similar to Middle Eastern greetings meaning “peace be upon you,” and its reply, “upon you be peace.” An even earlier variation can be found with the ancient Egyptians blessing that is usually translated “May he live, be prosperous, be healthy.”
The hand gesture was originally a Jewish sign of blessing that comes from the Book of Numbers accompanied by the words we heard this morning from Hebrew scripture:
“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”
The split finger hand gesture represents the Hebrew letter Shin which means Shaddai or “Almighty God.” Orthodox Jews use the Shin gesture during a blessing ceremony when the priest extends both hands out at a 45-degree angle as opposed to the vertical gesture we know from Star Trek.
Nimoy modified it for his character Dr. Spock to convey the Vulcan salute.
In his autobiography I am Not Spock, Nimoy writes that as a child his grandfather once took him to an Orthodox synagogue. Jewish worshipers are not permitted to look at the priest while the blessing is being given, as this would detract from the words of the blessing itself. As a child, Nimoy could not contain himself and took a look.
He writes, “The special moment when Kohanim (priest) blessed the assembly moved me deeply, for it possessed a great sense of magic and theatre… I had heard that this indwelling Spirit of God was too powerful, too beautiful, to awesome for any mortal to look upon and survive… so I obediently covered my face with my hand. But of course, I had to peek.”
The beauty of this blessing from the Book of Numbers is that it is universal: Jewish or Christian, Egyptian or Arab, fact or fiction, terrestrial or extra-terrestrial. I use it frequently in blessings because it conveys a truth that hearkens back to the original covenant God made with Abraham that the people of God would and continue to be God’s people.
By blessing, the writer of The Book of Numbers means that fulfillment of the covenant will always be manifested when people respond to God’s commands to love God and to love one’s neighbors. In the Book of Deuteronomy, God promises Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars and that their land would be abundant and fruitful.
This covenant is later ratified at the foot of Mt. Sinai according to The Book of Numbers as the Israelites prepare to journey into the wilderness as they look forward to the Promised Land. Moses’ brother, Aaron, offers this blessing to the Israelites as they leave Mt. Sinai and is so named Aaron’s blessing up to this day.
The blessing is highly stylized speaking of blessing and keeping signifying that all divine gifts are to serve the life and well-being of individuals and communities and that God’s people will be sheltered and protected from all evil and its effects. The person blessing was one who mediated the presence and power of God.
The blessing calls upon God to show the divine countenance to all people to imply God’s full and never failing presence. The shining face of God runs counter to the hiding face of God Moses was not allowed to see at the Burning bush. It means there is a smiling face of God that looks upon you and not a glaring and angry face of the divine.
Our images of God are shaped by stories and personal experiences; and sometime those images are frightful and oppressive. Here, in this blessing, we hear and receive the accepting and comforting face of God. The ancient claim of Aaron’s blessing is that God’s face shines like the sun upon all people and all of creation. Simply put: God smiles on you.
The blessing concludes with God’s peace, God’s Shalom, reaffirming God’s presence and peaceful dominion over all of creation. God’s Shalom means that God’s reign is real, life giving, and eternal. When God’s name was invoked, God would bless the people always and everywhere. For the Israelites and for Jews today, this blessing is a bridge back to the covenant God made to god’s people.
For Christians, God blesses us through one high priest, one mediator, Jesus Christ. He is the presence of God who gives his followers God’s Shalom. As we give thanks for the name of Jesus this day, we are to remember that his life is our blessing.
As we begin a new year, may God’s peace bring you health and happiness.
“Live long and prosper.” Amen.
“Live long and prosper.” For those of us familiar with the TV series Star Trek this was the Vulcan salute consisting of a raised hand, palm outward with fingers parted between the middle and ring finger. The actor Leonard Nimoy who portrayed the half-Vulcan character Dr. Spock on the original series devised the salute.
The accompanying words come from the end of Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet when the grief stricken Romeo bids his friend Balthasar good-bye: “Live and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow” (Act III. Scene V. 42).
The format is similar to Middle Eastern greetings meaning “peace be upon you,” and its reply, “upon you be peace.” An even earlier variation can be found with the ancient Egyptians blessing that is usually translated “May he live, be prosperous, be healthy.”
The hand gesture was originally a Jewish sign of blessing that comes from the Book of Numbers accompanied by the words we heard this morning from Hebrew scripture:
“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”
The split finger hand gesture represents the Hebrew letter Shin which means Shaddai or “Almighty God.” Orthodox Jews use the Shin gesture during a blessing ceremony when the priest extends both hands out at a 45-degree angle as opposed to the vertical gesture we know from Star Trek.
Nimoy modified it for his character Dr. Spock to convey the Vulcan salute.
In his autobiography I am Not Spock, Nimoy writes that as a child his grandfather once took him to an Orthodox synagogue. Jewish worshipers are not permitted to look at the priest while the blessing is being given, as this would detract from the words of the blessing itself. As a child, Nimoy could not contain himself and took a look.
He writes, “The special moment when Kohanim (priest) blessed the assembly moved me deeply, for it possessed a great sense of magic and theatre… I had heard that this indwelling Spirit of God was too powerful, too beautiful, to awesome for any mortal to look upon and survive… so I obediently covered my face with my hand. But of course, I had to peek.”
The beauty of this blessing from the Book of Numbers is that it is universal: Jewish or Christian, Egyptian or Arab, fact or fiction, terrestrial or extra-terrestrial. I use it frequently in blessings because it conveys a truth that hearkens back to the original covenant God made with Abraham that the people of God would and continue to be God’s people.
By blessing, the writer of The Book of Numbers means that fulfillment of the covenant will always be manifested when people respond to God’s commands to love God and to love one’s neighbors. In the Book of Deuteronomy, God promises Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars and that their land would be abundant and fruitful.
This covenant is later ratified at the foot of Mt. Sinai according to The Book of Numbers as the Israelites prepare to journey into the wilderness as they look forward to the Promised Land. Moses’ brother, Aaron, offers this blessing to the Israelites as they leave Mt. Sinai and is so named Aaron’s blessing up to this day.
The blessing is highly stylized speaking of blessing and keeping signifying that all divine gifts are to serve the life and well-being of individuals and communities and that God’s people will be sheltered and protected from all evil and its effects. The person blessing was one who mediated the presence and power of God.
The blessing calls upon God to show the divine countenance to all people to imply God’s full and never failing presence. The shining face of God runs counter to the hiding face of God Moses was not allowed to see at the Burning bush. It means there is a smiling face of God that looks upon you and not a glaring and angry face of the divine.
Our images of God are shaped by stories and personal experiences; and sometime those images are frightful and oppressive. Here, in this blessing, we hear and receive the accepting and comforting face of God. The ancient claim of Aaron’s blessing is that God’s face shines like the sun upon all people and all of creation. Simply put: God smiles on you.
The blessing concludes with God’s peace, God’s Shalom, reaffirming God’s presence and peaceful dominion over all of creation. God’s Shalom means that God’s reign is real, life giving, and eternal. When God’s name was invoked, God would bless the people always and everywhere. For the Israelites and for Jews today, this blessing is a bridge back to the covenant God made to god’s people.
For Christians, God blesses us through one high priest, one mediator, Jesus Christ. He is the presence of God who gives his followers God’s Shalom. As we give thanks for the name of Jesus this day, we are to remember that his life is our blessing.
As we begin a new year, may God’s peace bring you health and happiness.
“Live long and prosper.” Amen.
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