Proper 9, Year B, RCL
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51
If you don’t have cable TV or haven’t watched the Travel Channel recently, you may have missed out on a great little show my husband and I enjoy called Man vs. Food. On this show, the chummy host Adam Richman, visits restaurants in cities around the country specifically tasting and describing not-to-be-missed specialties, and the incredible food challenges some of these places have. By food challenge I mean: attempting to drink 16 milkshakes in one sitting, eating a plate covered in burger and fries that weighs over 5 lbs., devouring a 72 oz. steak, with salad and sides to boot. All for the chance to have his name and face immortalized on the wall, and a prized food-challenge winner t-shirt. My husband and I have been to a few of the places our friendly host has showcased, and we have enjoyed participating in the spoils of his great food reporting. Rather than the bread of life, Adam seems to find salvation in a cheeseburger in paradise.
Recently while watching the show, and as a frequent restaurant consumer, I have been struck by the sheer size of the portions and expected consumption delivered to patrons – exemplified to the extreme by the food challenges – but still a concern in the real world day-to-day of health-conscious American diners. Food is a constant and abundant resource in the American lifestyle – food of every variety, ethnicity, seasoning, and style. And yet there are hungry people in our midst.
Perhaps I should speak to you of spiritual hunger, the kind that Jesus was pointing to in his words to the disciples, and the woman at the well – those who believe will never hunger or thirst again… and I will get to that, but the fact of the matter is – Jesus didn’t just talk about ethereal things. Before he focused on his message of hope and salvation, Jesus fed people. Our Gospel selections from John have showed us this throughout the summer. Jesus fed thousands who were hungry, and when they were satisfied, he taught them.
His first work, his first response to the crowds were to their most basic need – providing an abundance of resources that allowed the weak to be made strong, the poor to be satisfied, placing those who could not afford lunch on a level playing field with those who could. Fish, bread, wine, water. These tangible, necessary, life-giving resources were first and foremost components of Jesus ministry to the people he met in his days here on earth. It was after he fed those who were hungry that he spoke them of the bread of life – the gift of abundant life that comes from the experience of knowing Jesus and caring for and feeding others. As faithful followers of Christ, we have a legacy to uphold alongside of the fulfillment of our own spiritual hunger.
Spiritual hunger is real – and there are many ways to seek satisfaction in the face of this need. Many of you come here to be fed by the communities that gather through our parish life – communal worship and Holy Eucharist, fellowship time at coffee hour, Sunday school, children and youth ministry projects, musical endeavors, even the very real practice of feeding others through our relationship with IHN, Pilgrim’s Inn and other community outreach organizations.
If your need for spiritual practice and fulfillment has brought you here – I hope that it is being satisfied in a way that is truly, life-giving, challenging, active and reflective in the process of developing your faith and spiritual life.
But also know that our life here is not only about creating a space of spiritual sanctuary, a resting place from the busyness of the world out there – it is a place that serves as a constant reminder of Christ’s love for you – for YOU – and this body of Christ that we recognize when we gather here has an agenda, a mission. As members of the body, we open our doors inviting others into a relationship with God in Christ, inviting others to feed on the Bread of Life. But in the midst of that, in the life we proclaim as doers of the Word, as followers of Christ, our call to action is clear:
It is that of a gentle hand that points to those standing outside of our doors, reminding you that the choices you make with your time, your talent and your treasure is tied to the needs of those surrounding you – those for whom the source of the next meal is not certain. We, who have consistent access to basic resources: clean drinkable water, grocery stores, pantries and refrigerators filled to meet our every day needs, we have a responsibility to our God and to our neighbors.
We, who are fed by the gifts of bread and wine, we who find spiritual edification in the faith that when we gather in Christ’s name he is with us, we are called upon to get the message – if you love me, if you know me, if you follow my actions, you will feed my people. Their hunger is real too.
How do we do this? How do we live this? At every meal in which you partake – pray – give thanks for the food you are about to receive, and remember those who are hungry. There is a saying in the way our Anglican prayer book was developed: lex orandi, lex credenda: Praying shapes believing. If your constant prayer is that you might taste the bread of life, that you might know the one in whom there is no hunger, then your ears may become more attuned to those in need in your community. Your budget may become more flexible when you are given an opportunity to give to another. Your basket may become a little more full at the grocery store when you find an extra dollar or two to pick up the cost of some basic meal provisions. Your decision to find a way to volunteer some of your time and talent may lead you to the door of Pilgrim’s Inn. Prayers have many ways of working, the first being that you open yourself to the possibility that God may be at work in you, and that you may be able to serve as the hands and feet of God in this world.
Adam Richman of Man vs. Food faces one kind of food challenge on his show – one of consumption and entertaining physical comedy. Today I give to you a food challenge of your own. I challenge you to consider your own desire to be fulfilled – to be nourished physically and spiritually. Consider the possibility that these two things are tied together, not only that your own hunger is satisfied, but that your spiritual hunger to know Christ, to taste the Bread of Life may be fulfilled in following the actions of Jesus: May you eat and be satisfied and may you share your next meal with God and your neighbor. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, August 9, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Summer of Service
Proper 11, Year B, RCL
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Psalm 23
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
"The Lord is my shepherd I’ll walk with him always. He leads by still waters, I’ll walk with him always."
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Like sheep without a shepherd. Lost, confused, unsure, seeking any means of comfort to grab onto.
Jesus saw this condition in the people his apostles had sought to bring Good News to. They had gotten the word that someone did care for them, that someone did have a helping hand, that someone had come who would change things. The people, seeking a shepherd, came in hopes that this man Jesus could fulfill all those needs and more. Were they convinced? Were they certain? Did they know what they were getting themselves into? Probably not.
More likely they were hungry, hurting, and desperate for some sort of hope to reach out and cling to – even if it only meant touching the fringe of his clothes. Maybe, just that, would be enough.
Like many of you, I have not known this kind of desperation. I have not had to struggle with the question – where will my next meal come from? Where will I lay my head to rest tonight, how will I make the next car payment, and the one after that? The closest I’ve come was an experience I had last fall, when I drove to 3 different gas stations on a near empty tank, and wondering if I was going to be left stranded at any moment. I didn’t like the feeling – I didn’t like that something as simple as the fuel that I rely on, that I take for granted day in and day out, was suddenly not as accessible to me as it always had been. I did not want to drive to yet another gas station and face disappointment, and frustration, and walk away empty handed yet again.
But my brief experience of “desperation” does not compare to the concerns I was approached with this week, hands in need reaching toward me and toward Our Saviour in times of very real and immediate need. This week those hands came in the form a family seeking work so that they could pay their rent, a financial need in the midst of a difficult lawsuit, a phone message asking for prayers for loved ones struggling with addiction, a letter requesting funds to pay for a transplant operation in Uganda, support for grieving friends of an unexpected infant death in the Rock Hill community, a request for communion with a family whose loved one is dying. I didn’t realize how many needs I had encountered this week until I began to list them here, and it is amazing how many and how diverse these needs are, this just in one week. It would be easy to overwhelmed by the amount of need and the struggles that are being faced by just these few people who came forth this week. It gives new meaning to the imagery of the sheep without their shepherd in need of compassion, and care.
Our passage of scripture shows Jesus as one looked upon his people with compassion and reached back toward them with a power to heal their wounds – those visible and those invisible. He did this by choosing to be present with them. Choosing to make his place amongst the crowd, even in his own desire to step back and take a rest. The need was still there, and his response to that need was to love these people – to fulfill the Good News that had been promised to them. He reached out his hands toward theirs and allowed them to know healing.
The need for healing in the world has not gone away. The brokenness that we see in the reported news, and in our own families are very real. We are people in need of healing as well. But where do we reach out and feel that healing power? Where is the fringe for us to touch that holds that kind of power, that kind of transformation?
I began to wonder about where we reach for help in our times of sadness and struggle. For some it is in the bottle, a means of numbing the pain, and separating oneself from the reality of the situation they are faced with. For some I think it is in the magazines we reach for in line at the grocery store, where one can read of our contemporary “celebrities” and make judgments about others’ choices, rather than focus on our own disappointments and dissatisfaction in the way things have turned out. It would seem that another place we hope to disappear from ourselves and get caught up in the moment of another is in the distraction of sports – reaching our hands high in an attempt to collect an artifact of “glory.”
These temporal activities have their entertainment value, and certainly have their place in moments of leisure, and rest – we all must rest – but the more of us who use them as methods of escape, as methods of distraction from the real life struggles of our own and of others, the less present we are to the needs of the community that surrounds us, the needs of our brother and sister.
Rather than pushing away the hurts, rather than ignoring the need for healing – for ourselves, and for others, how might we reach forth our hands and put them into action, rather than distraction?
The theme for our Summer of Service youth program has been: God’s work, our hands. Each week youth from Our Saviour and Grace Lutheran put our minds and hearts and hands to work getting to know the needs of the community, and the ways in which our hands might be useful in serving the needs of others. Through this work we have sought to see Christ in others, reaching forward and serving others, so that they might see Christ in us. The result is a collection of young people creating pockets of healing in the world around them – and growing a deeper understanding that with loving hands reaching out toward one another we can be a people of transforming action in the world.
That transformation is found in the hands that reach out and touch the shoulder of the grieving woman whose husband is preparing to die – it can be found at Hospice and Community Care. That healing power is felt as arms of a small child reaches out to hug you—a child for whom touch has changed from source of pain, and to an expression of love – it can be found at York Place and the Children’s Attention Home. That curative force comes as hands clasped in prayer, call upon the name of Jesus to be present in the act of being a community together, through song and storytelling, and we experienced it as we played and learned together in Vacation Bible School this week. The hand is at work in the kitchen preparing meals, and hospitality for our Interfaith Hospitality Network guests. There are many other places where our own hands can be put to use as sources of healing for others and for ourselves. But the power comes in the act of giving it away, of allowing your hands to be strength for others, and allowing others touch your life as well.
We are called upon through the example of our teacher Jesus to see our neighbors in need, and to be the Good News to them, that healing comes, through relationship, through a community in action, through each of us being a source of healing in our world. The people who come looking for Good News, they have gotten the word that someone does care for them, that someone does have a helping hand, that someone will change things.
That someone is you, if you’ll let it be. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 19, 2009
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Psalm 23
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
"The Lord is my shepherd I’ll walk with him always. He leads by still waters, I’ll walk with him always."
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Like sheep without a shepherd. Lost, confused, unsure, seeking any means of comfort to grab onto.
Jesus saw this condition in the people his apostles had sought to bring Good News to. They had gotten the word that someone did care for them, that someone did have a helping hand, that someone had come who would change things. The people, seeking a shepherd, came in hopes that this man Jesus could fulfill all those needs and more. Were they convinced? Were they certain? Did they know what they were getting themselves into? Probably not.
More likely they were hungry, hurting, and desperate for some sort of hope to reach out and cling to – even if it only meant touching the fringe of his clothes. Maybe, just that, would be enough.
Like many of you, I have not known this kind of desperation. I have not had to struggle with the question – where will my next meal come from? Where will I lay my head to rest tonight, how will I make the next car payment, and the one after that? The closest I’ve come was an experience I had last fall, when I drove to 3 different gas stations on a near empty tank, and wondering if I was going to be left stranded at any moment. I didn’t like the feeling – I didn’t like that something as simple as the fuel that I rely on, that I take for granted day in and day out, was suddenly not as accessible to me as it always had been. I did not want to drive to yet another gas station and face disappointment, and frustration, and walk away empty handed yet again.
But my brief experience of “desperation” does not compare to the concerns I was approached with this week, hands in need reaching toward me and toward Our Saviour in times of very real and immediate need. This week those hands came in the form a family seeking work so that they could pay their rent, a financial need in the midst of a difficult lawsuit, a phone message asking for prayers for loved ones struggling with addiction, a letter requesting funds to pay for a transplant operation in Uganda, support for grieving friends of an unexpected infant death in the Rock Hill community, a request for communion with a family whose loved one is dying. I didn’t realize how many needs I had encountered this week until I began to list them here, and it is amazing how many and how diverse these needs are, this just in one week. It would be easy to overwhelmed by the amount of need and the struggles that are being faced by just these few people who came forth this week. It gives new meaning to the imagery of the sheep without their shepherd in need of compassion, and care.
Our passage of scripture shows Jesus as one looked upon his people with compassion and reached back toward them with a power to heal their wounds – those visible and those invisible. He did this by choosing to be present with them. Choosing to make his place amongst the crowd, even in his own desire to step back and take a rest. The need was still there, and his response to that need was to love these people – to fulfill the Good News that had been promised to them. He reached out his hands toward theirs and allowed them to know healing.
The need for healing in the world has not gone away. The brokenness that we see in the reported news, and in our own families are very real. We are people in need of healing as well. But where do we reach out and feel that healing power? Where is the fringe for us to touch that holds that kind of power, that kind of transformation?
I began to wonder about where we reach for help in our times of sadness and struggle. For some it is in the bottle, a means of numbing the pain, and separating oneself from the reality of the situation they are faced with. For some I think it is in the magazines we reach for in line at the grocery store, where one can read of our contemporary “celebrities” and make judgments about others’ choices, rather than focus on our own disappointments and dissatisfaction in the way things have turned out. It would seem that another place we hope to disappear from ourselves and get caught up in the moment of another is in the distraction of sports – reaching our hands high in an attempt to collect an artifact of “glory.”
These temporal activities have their entertainment value, and certainly have their place in moments of leisure, and rest – we all must rest – but the more of us who use them as methods of escape, as methods of distraction from the real life struggles of our own and of others, the less present we are to the needs of the community that surrounds us, the needs of our brother and sister.
Rather than pushing away the hurts, rather than ignoring the need for healing – for ourselves, and for others, how might we reach forth our hands and put them into action, rather than distraction?
The theme for our Summer of Service youth program has been: God’s work, our hands. Each week youth from Our Saviour and Grace Lutheran put our minds and hearts and hands to work getting to know the needs of the community, and the ways in which our hands might be useful in serving the needs of others. Through this work we have sought to see Christ in others, reaching forward and serving others, so that they might see Christ in us. The result is a collection of young people creating pockets of healing in the world around them – and growing a deeper understanding that with loving hands reaching out toward one another we can be a people of transforming action in the world.
That transformation is found in the hands that reach out and touch the shoulder of the grieving woman whose husband is preparing to die – it can be found at Hospice and Community Care. That healing power is felt as arms of a small child reaches out to hug you—a child for whom touch has changed from source of pain, and to an expression of love – it can be found at York Place and the Children’s Attention Home. That curative force comes as hands clasped in prayer, call upon the name of Jesus to be present in the act of being a community together, through song and storytelling, and we experienced it as we played and learned together in Vacation Bible School this week. The hand is at work in the kitchen preparing meals, and hospitality for our Interfaith Hospitality Network guests. There are many other places where our own hands can be put to use as sources of healing for others and for ourselves. But the power comes in the act of giving it away, of allowing your hands to be strength for others, and allowing others touch your life as well.
We are called upon through the example of our teacher Jesus to see our neighbors in need, and to be the Good News to them, that healing comes, through relationship, through a community in action, through each of us being a source of healing in our world. The people who come looking for Good News, they have gotten the word that someone does care for them, that someone does have a helping hand, that someone will change things.
That someone is you, if you’ll let it be. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 19, 2009
Baptism and Story
Proper 10, Year B, RCL
Amos 7:7-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:14-29
I was born on a hot summer day in Little Rock, Arkansas 31 years ago. About a month later I was baptized by an Episcopal priest. The only pictures I have of this event are from the picnic style backyard party that was held that afternoon – including one of the priest holding me and wearing a shirt that said, “bionic padre.”
I was surrounded by people who loved me, and a community of witnesses who agreed that they would, with God’s help, raise me up in the faith tradition and practice that they shared in.
I don’t remember the first time I heard the story of my baptism, short as it is, or how many times it was talked about over the years. The pictures are what strengthen the memory and give it a tangible feeling. I’m lucky to have those pictures in my mind, because as my own faith life has grown, I have an image from the very start of loving arms enfolding me, and caring members of my faith community there at my side. The story of my faith journey begins with those images and those truths, but the story itself is what knits that experience into the fabric of my being.
The sharing of stories within families and amongst our community is central to who we are. Gathering with family members for a meal, or just a moment, we ask “How was your day” in hopes of catching a glimpse through the anecdote shared, of the story of here and now. A grandchild visiting with Grandparents invites the exchange of stories from Grandma’s childhood, stories of the parent’s childhood, (especially of the times when Mom or Dad got into trouble!) This is how we uncover and collect our family history and identity.
Here in church, with our own liturgy of the word we participate in each Sunday, is a study in scripture; an invitation into the stories of our heritage of faithfulness – faithfulness to God and to the teachings of Jesus. As a community or family of faith, we choose the stories that we will emphasize, the teachings that we will most promote and emulate, we discover that there are new truths to be found in these stories as we hear them again for the first time at different ages and stages of life.
The stories that we tell about ourselves, and our understanding of the world shape the way others see us, the facets of our life that they get to know. They are also to places where we can excavate a deeper understanding of ourselves – looking back on the way things were, the way we responded to something at a certain point in our development, allowing ourselves to see into the past things we did well, and moments when we could have made different or better choices. We can learn from our own stories, as can others.
(At the 10:30 a.m. service) Today we (will) have the joy of witnessing the making of a family story. Today we will celebrate our call to community as we baptize and welcome two new members into the body of Christ. In this story a child is born to a family, and loving parents who are members of an active church community who wish to celebrate and incorporate their child into that life, taking on the responsibility of raising that child to know that God’s deep love for them, and for all of creation, which calls all of us to a life of gratitude and service.
A grown man, a devoted husband and loving father, one who has found a church home, but has not made his own commitment of faith chooses to stand with his child and allow the waters of baptism to wash over him as well, claiming his birthright into the community of faith, and action that surrounds him. We, as members of this community have much to celebrate and much to be thankful for. We, as witnesses and participants in this sacramental act will have a story to tell as we depart from this place today, having renewed our own baptismal vows, our own baptismal covenant with God and with one another.
Today, I urge you to recall the story of your baptism. To recall the story of your own moment of standing up to affirm your faith in the community. I invite you to delve into your own story of your walk with Jesus, be that through scripture, through prayer, or through relationship with members of your faith community, and the work of serving others in need. Where in your story did your faith-life “take off’ as it were, into a deep understanding of God’s loving presence in all things?
For me this took place at different stops along the way through my involvement in youth ministry experiences, and through the discernment process in preparation for ordination. The bionic padre is still kicking around, and thanks to an internet search and the technology of email received word that 28 years after my baptism I was taking on a new set of vows as a transitional deacon, and priest in the Episcopal Church. It was important to share with him the continuation of that story – because he was there at the beginning, and various church communities and priests carried me along the way.
What are the stories that you live by, that you love by, that you need to share with someone else? Someone who is hurting, and is in need of a boost in faith and comfort now… someone who has had an impact on your walk in faith… someone who has challenged you along the way, and from whom you have taken life lessons that they could not, or would not otherwise know?
Today, as we renew our commitment to a life in Christ with this child and this father, as we renew our commitment as a community of faith, I challenge you to remember your stories, to tell someone a story, to invite another to share their story with you, so that we may continue to deepen our relationships with one another, as we continue to knit together the fabric of our community in Christ. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 13, 2009
Amos 7:7-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:14-29
I was born on a hot summer day in Little Rock, Arkansas 31 years ago. About a month later I was baptized by an Episcopal priest. The only pictures I have of this event are from the picnic style backyard party that was held that afternoon – including one of the priest holding me and wearing a shirt that said, “bionic padre.”
I was surrounded by people who loved me, and a community of witnesses who agreed that they would, with God’s help, raise me up in the faith tradition and practice that they shared in.
I don’t remember the first time I heard the story of my baptism, short as it is, or how many times it was talked about over the years. The pictures are what strengthen the memory and give it a tangible feeling. I’m lucky to have those pictures in my mind, because as my own faith life has grown, I have an image from the very start of loving arms enfolding me, and caring members of my faith community there at my side. The story of my faith journey begins with those images and those truths, but the story itself is what knits that experience into the fabric of my being.
The sharing of stories within families and amongst our community is central to who we are. Gathering with family members for a meal, or just a moment, we ask “How was your day” in hopes of catching a glimpse through the anecdote shared, of the story of here and now. A grandchild visiting with Grandparents invites the exchange of stories from Grandma’s childhood, stories of the parent’s childhood, (especially of the times when Mom or Dad got into trouble!) This is how we uncover and collect our family history and identity.
Here in church, with our own liturgy of the word we participate in each Sunday, is a study in scripture; an invitation into the stories of our heritage of faithfulness – faithfulness to God and to the teachings of Jesus. As a community or family of faith, we choose the stories that we will emphasize, the teachings that we will most promote and emulate, we discover that there are new truths to be found in these stories as we hear them again for the first time at different ages and stages of life.
The stories that we tell about ourselves, and our understanding of the world shape the way others see us, the facets of our life that they get to know. They are also to places where we can excavate a deeper understanding of ourselves – looking back on the way things were, the way we responded to something at a certain point in our development, allowing ourselves to see into the past things we did well, and moments when we could have made different or better choices. We can learn from our own stories, as can others.
(At the 10:30 a.m. service) Today we (will) have the joy of witnessing the making of a family story. Today we will celebrate our call to community as we baptize and welcome two new members into the body of Christ. In this story a child is born to a family, and loving parents who are members of an active church community who wish to celebrate and incorporate their child into that life, taking on the responsibility of raising that child to know that God’s deep love for them, and for all of creation, which calls all of us to a life of gratitude and service.
A grown man, a devoted husband and loving father, one who has found a church home, but has not made his own commitment of faith chooses to stand with his child and allow the waters of baptism to wash over him as well, claiming his birthright into the community of faith, and action that surrounds him. We, as members of this community have much to celebrate and much to be thankful for. We, as witnesses and participants in this sacramental act will have a story to tell as we depart from this place today, having renewed our own baptismal vows, our own baptismal covenant with God and with one another.
Today, I urge you to recall the story of your baptism. To recall the story of your own moment of standing up to affirm your faith in the community. I invite you to delve into your own story of your walk with Jesus, be that through scripture, through prayer, or through relationship with members of your faith community, and the work of serving others in need. Where in your story did your faith-life “take off’ as it were, into a deep understanding of God’s loving presence in all things?
For me this took place at different stops along the way through my involvement in youth ministry experiences, and through the discernment process in preparation for ordination. The bionic padre is still kicking around, and thanks to an internet search and the technology of email received word that 28 years after my baptism I was taking on a new set of vows as a transitional deacon, and priest in the Episcopal Church. It was important to share with him the continuation of that story – because he was there at the beginning, and various church communities and priests carried me along the way.
What are the stories that you live by, that you love by, that you need to share with someone else? Someone who is hurting, and is in need of a boost in faith and comfort now… someone who has had an impact on your walk in faith… someone who has challenged you along the way, and from whom you have taken life lessons that they could not, or would not otherwise know?
Today, as we renew our commitment to a life in Christ with this child and this father, as we renew our commitment as a community of faith, I challenge you to remember your stories, to tell someone a story, to invite another to share their story with you, so that we may continue to deepen our relationships with one another, as we continue to knit together the fabric of our community in Christ. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 13, 2009
Summer 2009 Youth Mission
Proper 9, Year B, RCL
Ezekiel 2:1-5
Psalm 123
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Mark 6:1-13
The journey began with a small carload of 4 people and all of their stuff – sleeping bags, work clothes, bug spray, a deck of cards, cameras. The destination: a gathering point with a larger group of people who would fill up 4 larger vans with more of the same, as well as music, work gloves, sunglasses, snacks, and open hands, and open hearts to the needs of people still putting their lives back together 4 years after a hurricane of unfathomable power and destruction turned their lives upside down.
The place we stayed, the things we saw, the stories we heard and the people we served – each of these aspects of the Senior High Youth Mission Trip played a significant role in the experience we shared in together. It was the backdrop to the prophetic voices that spoke to us as individuals and as a group who travelled to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi in hopes of seeing and serving Christ.
Bay St. Louis is a town that has seen and survived hurricanes and tough weather before – but the winds and waters that struck the area in August of 2005 were overwhelming. At its height, the waters that flooded and washed away Christ Episcopal Church, all but its bell tower, were 32 feet high. Mission on the Bay is a ministry of the Lutheran Episcopal Services of Mississippi, and the host site for over 8000 volunteers who have come to serve the needs of the Gulf Coast in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. It resides on the property of Christ Episcopal Church and faces Mississippi Bay, an inlet of the Gulf of Mexico.
Our housing, meals, tools, and worship space were provided on this property because where there was once a church, there would continue to be a place of ministry. The community of Christ Episcopal, under the leadership of an amazing rector, one who had agreed to serve the congregation just weeks before the flood waters came, discovered a new call to be a center of hospitality and serving the needs of others and the community. As the flood waters receded, the vision of a housing and volunteer deployment center came into reality.
Joined by youth from North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida, our group of 130 youth volunteers and their leaders descended upon this place and allowed ourselves, not only to be put to work, but to be witnesses to the members of the community whose homes we worked on, whose stories we heard, whose project organizers we worked alongside, whose musicians and storytellers we listened too.
As I’ve weighed the experiences of our week in Mississippi alongside the Gospel for today, I see a series of connections and contrasts. The first is the fact that rather than wait for a prophet to come to us, and share their story, we went into the world, into this new and foreign place, to learn from those living in this strange and difficult reality. We went to serve, but we also went to listen and to learn from those who are surviving, those who are rebuilding and those who are struggling and succeeding in creating their communities once again. We went to the hometown of the prophets in order to be preached to, in order to be taught the lessons of God’s presence, even in the midst of destruction, grief, loss, and seemingly insurmountable difficulties.
What we found there were others who have given their life in service to the people and the community of Bay St. Louis; people who have committed their expertise, time and talent to help rebuild this community. Mission on the Bay hosts, trains, and sends volunteers who come from near and far to be witnesses and active helpers in the face of the needs that are still there. It is also a place where prophets who have seen the harsh realities and experienced the faithful commitment of God’s love even in the darkest hours are willing and able to share their story – over a shrimp boil, or a hammer and a nail. Prophets speak the truth, despite the discomfort it may cause, despite the sadness it displays, these prophets are gifts to us, and gifts to the church.
There were other contrasts between Jesus’ sending words to his disciples and our experience as mission-ers.
Take nothing with you, only the clothes on your back, and staff that may serve to protect you from wild animals. Remain in the first home that invites you in, so that you will not be tempted to seek a better arrangement or finer accommodations as you learn the lay of the land. Share the faithful story of which you are a part, that Good News has come in Christ, and do not allow those who would dismiss you to discourage or keep you from the next leg of your journey.
What we learned from our prophetic hosts, what we heard again and again, and what was hard to imagine or understand was that we brought something with us that none of us could have imagined or assumed. Yes, we came to serve, yes, we came to build roofs, to tile floors, to hang drywall, to do yard work, to pick up trash to clean up items still untouched after 4 years, to give our time and our sweat so that some things that could not and would not be afforded, or attended to, could be taken care of. We brought many things with us, but the most important thing that came with each of our shining faces was the gift of hope.
Time and again, homeowners, residents, store clerks, and others told us that even the smallest act of being present and being willing to serve was an empowering reminder that the people of the Gulf Coast are not forgotten, and they are not alone. We came to hear the voice of God in the words spoken by these hometown prophets, and the word that they had for us was the fact that we brought with us a gift we could not have imagined.
I struggled the most with this truth on the day that our work groups had the unexpected opportunity to travel into New Orleans and receive a tour of the 9th Ward, a district that was severely flooded, severely damaged, and felt the pains of abandonment. As we gathered in the parking lot of a building that was once a Walgreens, and now serves as a community center and Episcopal Church, we were called to prayer through song.
“Joyful, joyful Lord we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of love” the words reverberated around us, and the call to see our surroundings with eyes of hope in healing and resurrection was placed upon us. This was not an easy task, but it was work that was given to us to do. As we moved through the neighborhood we saw re-built homes standing next to empty lots where only the foundation of a building remained, in some cases, just a brick outline or a cement slab. Some houses were marked with spray paint from those who searched for survivors, and the dead. Some were marked with the words: Do not Bulldoze. “Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away.”
The prophets of Bay St. Louis and the 9th Ward have lived this reality, have walked far more than a mile in these shoes – having only the clothes on their back and if they were lucky, the companionship of their family member at their side. And as they have made their way back, as they have made a commitment to become a community once again, they have called others to see, and to hear and to participate in that work – allowing us to bring hope for the future, hope for healing, hope for the attention and care of their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, and in community, that their homes may one day be rebuilt and their community thrive again.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina new pathways to God’s prophetic witness to his people were created. This is not to say that it is God’s will that so many should suffer in order for us to better know God’s love in the world. But these communities could have died. They could have been left as ashes and abandoned by their people. And they have chosen a path of resurrection. They have chosen to seek a new way, even though they are forever changed. They have chosen to speak their truth, to share that truth with us, and to invite us to return again and again to participate in the new life that comes after the storms have stilled.
As we say prayers and give offerings to the ongoing ministry of the Gulf Coast resources, as we send members of our community to fulfill this call to mission and ministry, and as we welcome back the prophetic witness that has been seen and heard in these places, remember our work as people of hope, and as receivers of the word and as agents of healing not only in what we do for others but in our way of being for and with others. In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, our companion on all paths of the journey. Amen.
Delivered: July 5, 2009
Ezekiel 2:1-5
Psalm 123
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Mark 6:1-13
The journey began with a small carload of 4 people and all of their stuff – sleeping bags, work clothes, bug spray, a deck of cards, cameras. The destination: a gathering point with a larger group of people who would fill up 4 larger vans with more of the same, as well as music, work gloves, sunglasses, snacks, and open hands, and open hearts to the needs of people still putting their lives back together 4 years after a hurricane of unfathomable power and destruction turned their lives upside down.
The place we stayed, the things we saw, the stories we heard and the people we served – each of these aspects of the Senior High Youth Mission Trip played a significant role in the experience we shared in together. It was the backdrop to the prophetic voices that spoke to us as individuals and as a group who travelled to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi in hopes of seeing and serving Christ.
Bay St. Louis is a town that has seen and survived hurricanes and tough weather before – but the winds and waters that struck the area in August of 2005 were overwhelming. At its height, the waters that flooded and washed away Christ Episcopal Church, all but its bell tower, were 32 feet high. Mission on the Bay is a ministry of the Lutheran Episcopal Services of Mississippi, and the host site for over 8000 volunteers who have come to serve the needs of the Gulf Coast in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. It resides on the property of Christ Episcopal Church and faces Mississippi Bay, an inlet of the Gulf of Mexico.
Our housing, meals, tools, and worship space were provided on this property because where there was once a church, there would continue to be a place of ministry. The community of Christ Episcopal, under the leadership of an amazing rector, one who had agreed to serve the congregation just weeks before the flood waters came, discovered a new call to be a center of hospitality and serving the needs of others and the community. As the flood waters receded, the vision of a housing and volunteer deployment center came into reality.
Joined by youth from North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida, our group of 130 youth volunteers and their leaders descended upon this place and allowed ourselves, not only to be put to work, but to be witnesses to the members of the community whose homes we worked on, whose stories we heard, whose project organizers we worked alongside, whose musicians and storytellers we listened too.
As I’ve weighed the experiences of our week in Mississippi alongside the Gospel for today, I see a series of connections and contrasts. The first is the fact that rather than wait for a prophet to come to us, and share their story, we went into the world, into this new and foreign place, to learn from those living in this strange and difficult reality. We went to serve, but we also went to listen and to learn from those who are surviving, those who are rebuilding and those who are struggling and succeeding in creating their communities once again. We went to the hometown of the prophets in order to be preached to, in order to be taught the lessons of God’s presence, even in the midst of destruction, grief, loss, and seemingly insurmountable difficulties.
What we found there were others who have given their life in service to the people and the community of Bay St. Louis; people who have committed their expertise, time and talent to help rebuild this community. Mission on the Bay hosts, trains, and sends volunteers who come from near and far to be witnesses and active helpers in the face of the needs that are still there. It is also a place where prophets who have seen the harsh realities and experienced the faithful commitment of God’s love even in the darkest hours are willing and able to share their story – over a shrimp boil, or a hammer and a nail. Prophets speak the truth, despite the discomfort it may cause, despite the sadness it displays, these prophets are gifts to us, and gifts to the church.
There were other contrasts between Jesus’ sending words to his disciples and our experience as mission-ers.
Take nothing with you, only the clothes on your back, and staff that may serve to protect you from wild animals. Remain in the first home that invites you in, so that you will not be tempted to seek a better arrangement or finer accommodations as you learn the lay of the land. Share the faithful story of which you are a part, that Good News has come in Christ, and do not allow those who would dismiss you to discourage or keep you from the next leg of your journey.
What we learned from our prophetic hosts, what we heard again and again, and what was hard to imagine or understand was that we brought something with us that none of us could have imagined or assumed. Yes, we came to serve, yes, we came to build roofs, to tile floors, to hang drywall, to do yard work, to pick up trash to clean up items still untouched after 4 years, to give our time and our sweat so that some things that could not and would not be afforded, or attended to, could be taken care of. We brought many things with us, but the most important thing that came with each of our shining faces was the gift of hope.
Time and again, homeowners, residents, store clerks, and others told us that even the smallest act of being present and being willing to serve was an empowering reminder that the people of the Gulf Coast are not forgotten, and they are not alone. We came to hear the voice of God in the words spoken by these hometown prophets, and the word that they had for us was the fact that we brought with us a gift we could not have imagined.
I struggled the most with this truth on the day that our work groups had the unexpected opportunity to travel into New Orleans and receive a tour of the 9th Ward, a district that was severely flooded, severely damaged, and felt the pains of abandonment. As we gathered in the parking lot of a building that was once a Walgreens, and now serves as a community center and Episcopal Church, we were called to prayer through song.
“Joyful, joyful Lord we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of love” the words reverberated around us, and the call to see our surroundings with eyes of hope in healing and resurrection was placed upon us. This was not an easy task, but it was work that was given to us to do. As we moved through the neighborhood we saw re-built homes standing next to empty lots where only the foundation of a building remained, in some cases, just a brick outline or a cement slab. Some houses were marked with spray paint from those who searched for survivors, and the dead. Some were marked with the words: Do not Bulldoze. “Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away.”
The prophets of Bay St. Louis and the 9th Ward have lived this reality, have walked far more than a mile in these shoes – having only the clothes on their back and if they were lucky, the companionship of their family member at their side. And as they have made their way back, as they have made a commitment to become a community once again, they have called others to see, and to hear and to participate in that work – allowing us to bring hope for the future, hope for healing, hope for the attention and care of their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, and in community, that their homes may one day be rebuilt and their community thrive again.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina new pathways to God’s prophetic witness to his people were created. This is not to say that it is God’s will that so many should suffer in order for us to better know God’s love in the world. But these communities could have died. They could have been left as ashes and abandoned by their people. And they have chosen a path of resurrection. They have chosen to seek a new way, even though they are forever changed. They have chosen to speak their truth, to share that truth with us, and to invite us to return again and again to participate in the new life that comes after the storms have stilled.
As we say prayers and give offerings to the ongoing ministry of the Gulf Coast resources, as we send members of our community to fulfill this call to mission and ministry, and as we welcome back the prophetic witness that has been seen and heard in these places, remember our work as people of hope, and as receivers of the word and as agents of healing not only in what we do for others but in our way of being for and with others. In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, our companion on all paths of the journey. Amen.
Delivered: July 5, 2009
Of Sheep and Men
4 Easter, Year B, RCL
Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18
In this day an age, who among us really wants to be compared to a sheep? I mean, after all, sheep are smelly, disorganized, animals, prone to wander off and stumble into a bramble patch, or meet a hungry wild animal, or otherwise generally get themselves into trouble. When we hear people compared to sheep today, they are usually described as blindly following anyone who will take them on the garden path, or of someone getting “fleeced. Perhaps we imagine the sad tale of lambs being led to the slaughter, or, the simplest, and most common image of someone unable to fall asleep counting sheep, what good are they otherwise? No, to be compared to a sheep, is to be considered helpless, hopeless, and has little or no value or meaning for us in this day and age.
But in their day, sheep were actually a life source for families, particularly in nomadic communities. Many smaller family units would have at least few sheep around as a provider of some of the most basic needs of life support – milk, meat, wool. These animals in small numbers provided an abundance of resources, and required little more than to be watered each day, and a sparse grassy diet, allowing them to be easily maintained in the near desert setting of the rural Mediterranean. And interestingly, they are also smart enough to recognize the distinct calling or voice of their particular shepherd, and thus able to separate themselves out from a combined heard, to follow their care-giving and protective shepherds. So as it turns out, sheep actually played a vital role in the perpetuation of the family and of everyday life in the era when Jesus used sheep as a way to describe our human relationship to the “Good Shepherd.”
In this morning’s Gospel we hear Jesus describe himself to the people as the Good Shepherd. The one whose voice would be recognized by his followers, a voice that would even be followed by some sheep from other folds, eventually calling all to follow the lead of one shepherd as members of one flock. Again, the depth of the imagery available to us in the metaphor of Jesus as the good shepherd is perhaps not as deeply understood to us as it would have been to his hearers at that time. In some of my reading for this I came across descriptions of shepherds and their tools, and the words of the 23rd Psalm rung in my ear:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”
“Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
The rod of the shepherd was literally a weapon, a long stick with nails stuck in the end to fend off threatening wild animals. The staff, which you might realize is a symbol used in traditional bishop’s garb, is a crosier – A long walking stick with a hook at the end, created to pull a sheep back into the fold, or rescue them from a tight spot where they may have gotten themselves in, but were unable to get themselves out. What a comfort to think of God as having that hook ready and willing to wrap it around our bodies, to enfold us in protective love and assurance of safety when the path becomes rocky, uncertain, dangerous.
The image of the sheep and the shepherd are beautiful and meaningful when you take a closer look. And upon reflection they do have lessons for us in our contemporary hearing. Knowing what we know now about sheep and shepherds, let me share with you some of my own reflections on these symbolic offerings.
To be a sheep means that you belong to a flock – it means that you have ties to a larger community; one that is made up of others like yourself, others with the same needs, others who have the same potential to give of themselves in order to meet the needs of others. There are many kinds of sheep, from many flocks, but as the story goes, they recognize the voice of the one who calls them, the one who calls them into a community that is one flock, one body, united under one voice. To be a member of that community, to be a sheep amongst the fold also means that there is one who watches over you – one who knows his sheep by name, has the tools to protect them, and the will to provide for their needs each day, to keep them safe from harm.
To know a shepherd is to know that there is one who does call us – who does not forget us, even when we find ourselves exploring new places, intermingling with other flocks. There is a voice that we know to follow – and others will join us when we follow that call.
As a diocese we are entering a time when our own bishop is preparing to lay down his staff and we have the work, the duty, to call another shepherd to be our leader, our protector, our caregiver. What a challenge, and what a privilege to be a body of people, a flock, that will elect the next shepherd who will call us into mission, point us in the direction of the voice of the Good Shepherd. But how does that bishop know recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd here in our community, and in our state?
We, the sheep, have the authority to speak to the needs of the sheep that surround us. Those whose needs are like ours, or are greater than ours. Our shepherd, our leader will be given the tools, and the authority to use them to lead us into a new decade of ministry – one that will be present through the changes in our economy, and our increasingly modern world. But your prayers and your participation in our local community, your knowledge of the needs of the sheep of Upper South Carolina will be the touchstones for our next shepherd, our next bishop to recognize the voice of Christ and where our ministry is needed.
As sheep in the fold of the body of Christ, I remind you that your ears know the voice of the shepherd. The call comes to you – and your response, your action, your purpose is to follow that call, and to share it with others – to share it with this community, and with our diocese as we call forth our next leader. So today, as we reflect on sheep and shepherds, I challenge you to live up to your role – not to blindly follow whoever it is that calls out, but to listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd, to hear the needs of those in our community shouting out for the mercy of God, for the healing touch of Christ, for the simplicity of having the most basis needs met – food, shelter, clothing – so that, when the Good Shepherd calls us home, we may stand alongside of our brothers and sisters of the flock, having done all that we could to participate in and meet the needs of the family. Like faithful sheep, with thankful hearts, listen for and respond to the call of our Good Shepherd. Bahhhhhmen.
Delivered: Sunday, May 3, 2009
Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18
In this day an age, who among us really wants to be compared to a sheep? I mean, after all, sheep are smelly, disorganized, animals, prone to wander off and stumble into a bramble patch, or meet a hungry wild animal, or otherwise generally get themselves into trouble. When we hear people compared to sheep today, they are usually described as blindly following anyone who will take them on the garden path, or of someone getting “fleeced. Perhaps we imagine the sad tale of lambs being led to the slaughter, or, the simplest, and most common image of someone unable to fall asleep counting sheep, what good are they otherwise? No, to be compared to a sheep, is to be considered helpless, hopeless, and has little or no value or meaning for us in this day and age.
But in their day, sheep were actually a life source for families, particularly in nomadic communities. Many smaller family units would have at least few sheep around as a provider of some of the most basic needs of life support – milk, meat, wool. These animals in small numbers provided an abundance of resources, and required little more than to be watered each day, and a sparse grassy diet, allowing them to be easily maintained in the near desert setting of the rural Mediterranean. And interestingly, they are also smart enough to recognize the distinct calling or voice of their particular shepherd, and thus able to separate themselves out from a combined heard, to follow their care-giving and protective shepherds. So as it turns out, sheep actually played a vital role in the perpetuation of the family and of everyday life in the era when Jesus used sheep as a way to describe our human relationship to the “Good Shepherd.”
In this morning’s Gospel we hear Jesus describe himself to the people as the Good Shepherd. The one whose voice would be recognized by his followers, a voice that would even be followed by some sheep from other folds, eventually calling all to follow the lead of one shepherd as members of one flock. Again, the depth of the imagery available to us in the metaphor of Jesus as the good shepherd is perhaps not as deeply understood to us as it would have been to his hearers at that time. In some of my reading for this I came across descriptions of shepherds and their tools, and the words of the 23rd Psalm rung in my ear:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”
“Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
The rod of the shepherd was literally a weapon, a long stick with nails stuck in the end to fend off threatening wild animals. The staff, which you might realize is a symbol used in traditional bishop’s garb, is a crosier – A long walking stick with a hook at the end, created to pull a sheep back into the fold, or rescue them from a tight spot where they may have gotten themselves in, but were unable to get themselves out. What a comfort to think of God as having that hook ready and willing to wrap it around our bodies, to enfold us in protective love and assurance of safety when the path becomes rocky, uncertain, dangerous.
The image of the sheep and the shepherd are beautiful and meaningful when you take a closer look. And upon reflection they do have lessons for us in our contemporary hearing. Knowing what we know now about sheep and shepherds, let me share with you some of my own reflections on these symbolic offerings.
To be a sheep means that you belong to a flock – it means that you have ties to a larger community; one that is made up of others like yourself, others with the same needs, others who have the same potential to give of themselves in order to meet the needs of others. There are many kinds of sheep, from many flocks, but as the story goes, they recognize the voice of the one who calls them, the one who calls them into a community that is one flock, one body, united under one voice. To be a member of that community, to be a sheep amongst the fold also means that there is one who watches over you – one who knows his sheep by name, has the tools to protect them, and the will to provide for their needs each day, to keep them safe from harm.
To know a shepherd is to know that there is one who does call us – who does not forget us, even when we find ourselves exploring new places, intermingling with other flocks. There is a voice that we know to follow – and others will join us when we follow that call.
As a diocese we are entering a time when our own bishop is preparing to lay down his staff and we have the work, the duty, to call another shepherd to be our leader, our protector, our caregiver. What a challenge, and what a privilege to be a body of people, a flock, that will elect the next shepherd who will call us into mission, point us in the direction of the voice of the Good Shepherd. But how does that bishop know recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd here in our community, and in our state?
We, the sheep, have the authority to speak to the needs of the sheep that surround us. Those whose needs are like ours, or are greater than ours. Our shepherd, our leader will be given the tools, and the authority to use them to lead us into a new decade of ministry – one that will be present through the changes in our economy, and our increasingly modern world. But your prayers and your participation in our local community, your knowledge of the needs of the sheep of Upper South Carolina will be the touchstones for our next shepherd, our next bishop to recognize the voice of Christ and where our ministry is needed.
As sheep in the fold of the body of Christ, I remind you that your ears know the voice of the shepherd. The call comes to you – and your response, your action, your purpose is to follow that call, and to share it with others – to share it with this community, and with our diocese as we call forth our next leader. So today, as we reflect on sheep and shepherds, I challenge you to live up to your role – not to blindly follow whoever it is that calls out, but to listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd, to hear the needs of those in our community shouting out for the mercy of God, for the healing touch of Christ, for the simplicity of having the most basis needs met – food, shelter, clothing – so that, when the Good Shepherd calls us home, we may stand alongside of our brothers and sisters of the flock, having done all that we could to participate in and meet the needs of the family. Like faithful sheep, with thankful hearts, listen for and respond to the call of our Good Shepherd. Bahhhhhmen.
Delivered: Sunday, May 3, 2009
Jesus "Kitsch"
3 Easter, Year B, RCL
Acts 3:12-19
Psalm 4
1 John 3:1-7
Luke 24:36b-48
If you haven’t been to my office, or spent much time there, you might not know that I have a small, but growing collection of “Jesus kitsch” sitting on one of my window shelves. Jesus kitsch, if you don’t know, is a growing industry of not-so-serious, but seriously funny Christian collectibles. Some of you may have come across some Jesus kitsch on your own – and perhaps have contemplated an inspirational, Jesus themed gift for a faithful friend or clergyperson along the way. Beware, however, that there is a fine line between thoughtful faith-inspired gift ideas, and things that fall into the kitsch category.
My collection is mostly of the poking-fun category. It includes a Jesus action figure, a “last supper lunch box,” and a glow in the dark cross – perfect for Christian rave dancing. It also has a special, dominant figure, a shockingly hot-pink statue of Jesus that has a unique feature. If you ask a question of Jesus, shake it and turn it over, you’ll receive an “answer” such as: “I died for this?” and “Let me ask my Dad, and I’ll get back to you…”
Thoroughly entertaining, and a little bit irreverent, I do wonder sometimes, just how perplexed and frightened I might be if Jesus were to appear in my office, as tangible as the images of him that rest there day in and day out, offering the familiar phrase, “Peace be with you.” Would I recognize him? Would I believe it was really happening in the moment? How might I respond to this companion and friend that I have looked to and known for so much of my life through scripture and community, through word and action...?
In the wake of Easter, gathered together in our familiar setting, with familiar faces, and hearing words, once again, of Jesus’ friends and followers, perplexed at what was being revealed to them by their teacher, Jesus himself appearing in the flesh, even after they had witnessed and known for certain that he had died. There they were, excited at the story of Jesus’ appearance to a fellow disciple, and yet frightened and doubtful at his sudden, solid, tangible presence amongst them.
I’m not going to spend time with you trying to explain how exactly Jesus did this. I don’t imagine I could comprehend the physics, or the biological or mystical concepts or means by which this event took place in the lives of our faithful brothers and gospel writers. But I’d like to imagine with you why Jesus appeared, and why it matters to us. The transcendental concepts of the situation, that is, those things that are not experienced, but perhaps are knowable – much like faith – that which is believed, but cannot be proven.
Jesus, spent his years of ministry walking alongside fellow men and women. As a man, he saw all the pains and hurts of this life. The horrors of disease and death, the use of the temple, a house of prayer for the God of creation, taken advantage of, and allowed to be a place of marketing and transaction. He saw women abused and trapped in an oppressive station of life, and children kept away from the center of the community. He was intimately aware that pain, and death were consistent with the human life.
And where was God in all of this? God, had called his people into a covenant, called upon the Israelites to be the chosen ones, the ones who would lead a path of righteousness for all to see, through prayer, sacrifice and pilgrimage, this family within all of creation would develop a relationship with God that would reflect God’s unconditional love for all of God’s children.
But time had gone by, and practices and closeness to the stories and understanding of them by the people and the leadership waned. The words of prophets spoken through the ages were still taught and passed down, pointing to a Messiah who would one day come. But complacency within the practice of the faith had taken its hold as well.
Aware of this, and aware of the impact Jesus had on his companions in life – the invitation to follow him and fish for people, the willingness he showed to open his arms and embrace all of God’s children – those diseased, those foreign, those deemed untouchable, his parable after parable, story after story of housing the stranger, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, healing the sick, forgiving the sinner…
Jesus lived into the unconditional love for all that God’s covenant tried to express. Jesus made clear again and again, what the scriptures themselves said, again and again: love God, love your neighbor, serve God by serving others, I am here to serve, not to be served… Jesus so fully lived and taught these truths of his own faith story, his own understanding and awareness of the one holy and living God that his story is still told today. The story of his life and the story of his death.
But his story didn’t end there. As frightening as it all was, what he was doing, how he turned society and all that was assumed about class and the status quo upside down, he managed to do the same thing with death. The death that his friends watched him die – the death of a criminal: tried, convicted, crucified… it was thought to be the end – but there he stood, reaching out his hands to touch them, eating a piece of fish before them, offering once again words of Peace, words of love, words of commissioning to his disciples that their work was not yet done – for they had a message to pass on, and a faith story to share – one that perhaps could not be proven, but was to be believed in.
The faith story that was given to me, is the faith story of the disciples. One that they did not know how to tell, or what to do with when it first happened, when they first found themselves in that moment with Jesus. In the next few verses of the gospel text the close of the Gospel according to Luke lets us know that after receiving this commission the disciples spent much time in prayer, were often found at the temple praying.
Considering it took more than 30 years for the Gospel stories to be written down, I’m certain its authors spent many years contemplating what they had experienced, what they had witnessed, in Jesus’ life, his death, and in his appearance amongst them.
So why did he do this, in this way? Why such a distant time and distant place did the incarnation of Christ take place in Jesus of Nazareth? I wonder, I imagine, perhaps Jesus gave himself to them, to touch, to feel, to experience in a tangible way, yet again, so that they might know that he meant what he said, that he would be with them always, even to the end of the age, he was truly there… really and truly.
Just as we have faith, that gathered here, gathered in this place, we can see and touch and taste and experience the life and love of Christ when we gather as a community, when we serve God by serving one another, when we look into the face of our neighbor in need and reach out a helping hand, when we open our hands and our lips and our hearts with songs of praise, and in the act of seeking and receiving holy communion – communion with one another and with God.
Perhaps the deepest truth of this story, of our faith story, is that it is a story of faith. Something that we carry on in our lives, in our actions, in our choices as members of a family and as members of a community – to have faith in the action of God to show us through Jesus that covenant we share, that promise of unconditional love, strong enough even to defeat the bonds of death – a love that strong, is a love that I am proud to have faith in, to know is true, to know that Jesus’ life, Jesus death and Jesus resurrection is where I place my faith. I wonder, where do you place yours? Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, April 26, 2009
Acts 3:12-19
Psalm 4
1 John 3:1-7
Luke 24:36b-48
If you haven’t been to my office, or spent much time there, you might not know that I have a small, but growing collection of “Jesus kitsch” sitting on one of my window shelves. Jesus kitsch, if you don’t know, is a growing industry of not-so-serious, but seriously funny Christian collectibles. Some of you may have come across some Jesus kitsch on your own – and perhaps have contemplated an inspirational, Jesus themed gift for a faithful friend or clergyperson along the way. Beware, however, that there is a fine line between thoughtful faith-inspired gift ideas, and things that fall into the kitsch category.
My collection is mostly of the poking-fun category. It includes a Jesus action figure, a “last supper lunch box,” and a glow in the dark cross – perfect for Christian rave dancing. It also has a special, dominant figure, a shockingly hot-pink statue of Jesus that has a unique feature. If you ask a question of Jesus, shake it and turn it over, you’ll receive an “answer” such as: “I died for this?” and “Let me ask my Dad, and I’ll get back to you…”
Thoroughly entertaining, and a little bit irreverent, I do wonder sometimes, just how perplexed and frightened I might be if Jesus were to appear in my office, as tangible as the images of him that rest there day in and day out, offering the familiar phrase, “Peace be with you.” Would I recognize him? Would I believe it was really happening in the moment? How might I respond to this companion and friend that I have looked to and known for so much of my life through scripture and community, through word and action...?
In the wake of Easter, gathered together in our familiar setting, with familiar faces, and hearing words, once again, of Jesus’ friends and followers, perplexed at what was being revealed to them by their teacher, Jesus himself appearing in the flesh, even after they had witnessed and known for certain that he had died. There they were, excited at the story of Jesus’ appearance to a fellow disciple, and yet frightened and doubtful at his sudden, solid, tangible presence amongst them.
I’m not going to spend time with you trying to explain how exactly Jesus did this. I don’t imagine I could comprehend the physics, or the biological or mystical concepts or means by which this event took place in the lives of our faithful brothers and gospel writers. But I’d like to imagine with you why Jesus appeared, and why it matters to us. The transcendental concepts of the situation, that is, those things that are not experienced, but perhaps are knowable – much like faith – that which is believed, but cannot be proven.
Jesus, spent his years of ministry walking alongside fellow men and women. As a man, he saw all the pains and hurts of this life. The horrors of disease and death, the use of the temple, a house of prayer for the God of creation, taken advantage of, and allowed to be a place of marketing and transaction. He saw women abused and trapped in an oppressive station of life, and children kept away from the center of the community. He was intimately aware that pain, and death were consistent with the human life.
And where was God in all of this? God, had called his people into a covenant, called upon the Israelites to be the chosen ones, the ones who would lead a path of righteousness for all to see, through prayer, sacrifice and pilgrimage, this family within all of creation would develop a relationship with God that would reflect God’s unconditional love for all of God’s children.
But time had gone by, and practices and closeness to the stories and understanding of them by the people and the leadership waned. The words of prophets spoken through the ages were still taught and passed down, pointing to a Messiah who would one day come. But complacency within the practice of the faith had taken its hold as well.
Aware of this, and aware of the impact Jesus had on his companions in life – the invitation to follow him and fish for people, the willingness he showed to open his arms and embrace all of God’s children – those diseased, those foreign, those deemed untouchable, his parable after parable, story after story of housing the stranger, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, healing the sick, forgiving the sinner…
Jesus lived into the unconditional love for all that God’s covenant tried to express. Jesus made clear again and again, what the scriptures themselves said, again and again: love God, love your neighbor, serve God by serving others, I am here to serve, not to be served… Jesus so fully lived and taught these truths of his own faith story, his own understanding and awareness of the one holy and living God that his story is still told today. The story of his life and the story of his death.
But his story didn’t end there. As frightening as it all was, what he was doing, how he turned society and all that was assumed about class and the status quo upside down, he managed to do the same thing with death. The death that his friends watched him die – the death of a criminal: tried, convicted, crucified… it was thought to be the end – but there he stood, reaching out his hands to touch them, eating a piece of fish before them, offering once again words of Peace, words of love, words of commissioning to his disciples that their work was not yet done – for they had a message to pass on, and a faith story to share – one that perhaps could not be proven, but was to be believed in.
The faith story that was given to me, is the faith story of the disciples. One that they did not know how to tell, or what to do with when it first happened, when they first found themselves in that moment with Jesus. In the next few verses of the gospel text the close of the Gospel according to Luke lets us know that after receiving this commission the disciples spent much time in prayer, were often found at the temple praying.
Considering it took more than 30 years for the Gospel stories to be written down, I’m certain its authors spent many years contemplating what they had experienced, what they had witnessed, in Jesus’ life, his death, and in his appearance amongst them.
So why did he do this, in this way? Why such a distant time and distant place did the incarnation of Christ take place in Jesus of Nazareth? I wonder, I imagine, perhaps Jesus gave himself to them, to touch, to feel, to experience in a tangible way, yet again, so that they might know that he meant what he said, that he would be with them always, even to the end of the age, he was truly there… really and truly.
Just as we have faith, that gathered here, gathered in this place, we can see and touch and taste and experience the life and love of Christ when we gather as a community, when we serve God by serving one another, when we look into the face of our neighbor in need and reach out a helping hand, when we open our hands and our lips and our hearts with songs of praise, and in the act of seeking and receiving holy communion – communion with one another and with God.
Perhaps the deepest truth of this story, of our faith story, is that it is a story of faith. Something that we carry on in our lives, in our actions, in our choices as members of a family and as members of a community – to have faith in the action of God to show us through Jesus that covenant we share, that promise of unconditional love, strong enough even to defeat the bonds of death – a love that strong, is a love that I am proud to have faith in, to know is true, to know that Jesus’ life, Jesus death and Jesus resurrection is where I place my faith. I wonder, where do you place yours? Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, April 26, 2009
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