5 Epiphany 2015

5 Epiphany 2015

Our Gospel reading today finds Jesus going to Simon Peter’s house after having a bit of adventure in the local synagogue. Some of you might remember in last week’s reading that Jesus was teaching in the synagogue, and the people were amazed at the authority with which he taught. And no sooner do the people say this than some possessed guy jumps up and starts getting belligerent with Jesus. 

However, without missing a beat, Jesus tells the spirit to shut up, and casts it out of the guy—which only further proves his authority.

As I explained last week, the authority of Jesus is one of the themes of the Gospel of Mark. So, we see throughout the narrative these places in which Jesus has command not only in his teaching, but also in signs and wonders. Some scholars are quick to point out that his authority and power are held up in Mark’s Gospel to show that Jesus isn’t just some really impressive magician, or pagan ‘holy man.’ Instead, just as the beginning of Mark says, he’s the Son of God, and one of the ways that Jesus proves his son-ship is by reminding everyone that his power comes from God. And, as we see in Jesus’ example, authority is something that is vested in someone—and isn’t something that is taken by force. That’s often the kind of power that gets abused.

Anyway, today’s reading follows directly after last week’s, and we find Jesus and his disciples going to Capernaum, to Simon Peter’s house. We read that when they arrive, they find that Peter’s mother-in-law was sick in bed (insert mother-in-law joke here). Anyway, Jesus goes and heals her, and she gets up and makes everyone a nice cup of tea…or whatever.

Of course, it’s not long before everyone hears that Jesus is in town—and because he’s cheaper than their HMOs, the people start flocking in droves to be healed. And whether it’s because there were so many people that Peter’s wife couldn’t get the car out of the garage to make her nail appointment; or because Jesus finally put up the “Office Closed” sign—the people leave for the night.

Before anyone stirs, and even before the sun is up; Jesus goes to a deserted place to pray. Either he’s trying to get his focus together for another day of healing, or it’s something more… But the reading ends with Peter and the disciples finding him. It even says they “hunted him…” When they find Jesus, they ask him what he’s doing—“everyone is searching for [him].”

It’s almost like Jesus has suddenly become either a reclusive child, or disappointing side-show. Whatever the case, it’s obvious that who he is (with all of his authority and power), and what his mission was (repentance and the promise of God’s Kingdom) had become completely obscured by what Jesus could do for them at that moment…

But, completely nonplussed, Jesus gets up and tells the disciples that it’s time to leave so that he can proclaim the message, because that is what he came to do. And they leave. We’re told Jesus preaches, and even continues to heal people and cast out demons.

I suppose, by this time, we’re all sort of used to Jesus doing weird things that we don’t fully understand. After all, he’s tall dark and messianic—he has to be mysterious. But, that doesn’t help us to understand why he would suddenly ‘stop’ healing people who might really have needed it to instead go and proclaim the Kingdom elsewhere…that’s a tough thing to consider.

Yet, at the same time, if we are willing to struggle with it; what I think we eventually come to is the greater context of the story. It says that the whole city was gathered at the door. These people didn’t even leave until sometime in the night, and the next morning when Jesus is away praying, even his disciples seem offended that he wasn’t up and ready for another day of miracles in Capernaum. In fact, it even says they “hunted him,” which just feels wrong.

Really, it’s only then that Jesus tells them that they need to move along, because, it’s obvious that if he remains in town, he will simply be some obscure faith healer. And, let’s be honest, with the way things were going for him that first day, he could probably spend years there just healing every person who came along…which, would actually be a good thing.

However, this wasn’t what Jesus was sent to do…as good as healing the people in Capernaum was, his mission was bigger, and for him to remain faithful, he needed to leave and continue onward.

Now, there is part of me that believes that this was a hard decision for him to make. I do believe that he had compassion for every one of these people—and it’s probably all the more reason he needed to pray to get the clarity and release he needed to go and continue his ministry. After all, he was vested with the power and authority that God had given him; and as is always the case with the authority any of us is given, we have to be humble and obedient—even if it means making difficult choices.

For most of us, the point of this may not be as easy to apply to our individual lives. But, then, some of us may know what it’s like to have to choose between staying home with children or going to work; it may be deciding to leave a secure job to pursue your passion or true vocation in life…who knows? But I do know that it applies very easily to the Church, and the continual need for congregations to pray about, and discern what mission and ministry God is calling them to in the world.

The irony, perhaps, is that when we do this work of prayerful discernment, it may call us to discontinue one ministry in favor of beginning a new one.

Yesterday I attended a meeting for Mission congregations, and one of the things that they talked about was this idea that most church programs have a three-year life-cycle. In fact, if a program has continued beyond three-years without any conversation about adjusting it or changing it; they pointed out that it can either become a source of anxiety, or even toxicity for the congregation.

And while we may agree or disagree with the research, what we do have to admit is that whether it’s three-years, more or less, there is most certainly a life-cycle for programs. So, it seems only natural that we would want to have honest conversations about them so that we can be sure that we’re being good stewards of our resources—both human and otherwise. The difficulty, however, is that there is sometimes too much personal and emotional DNA enmeshed with certain things, and so instead of discussing program offerings, or events objectively; we find ourselves in pitched, emotional battles that can’t be resolved cleanly.

But the question then remains, if we give in, even to emotionally charged and enmeshed personalities about things, simply to keep a few people happy…Can we say that we’re still being faithful to what God may be calling us to?

In the same way, should we ignore our responsibility to ask and listen for God’s leading, simply because we might feel settled and comfortable in what we may be doing now—regardless of how important it may seem?

Personally I don’t think we can. I don’t believe that we’re being faithful to God if we’re not willing to have the strength to pick-up, and move forward, because we know full well what our call in this world is… And it doesn’t matter if you feel like you’ve done your time; it doesn’t matter if you feel like you’re too busy; it doesn’t matter if you think that faith is just a weekly obligation to fulfill… Because as we found out today, it doesn’t even matter if your name is Jesus Christ, and you’ve been sitting outside Simon Peter’s house healing everybody all throughout Capernaum. The fact is, the message, the Gospel, the hope of the Kingdom of God, and God’s forgiveness and love for us is bigger and more important than any one of us. So, if that’s real to you, and it’s here (in your heart), I can tell you it’s never too soon to start praying and discerning—because everyone of us has a message to proclaim.

By the way, if you forgot what that is, it’s that God loves you; Jesus saved you; and that justifies you. Very simple. But it’s up to each one of us to figure out what that means to us, and how each of us are called to share it in our individual ways. 

3 Epiphany 2015

3 Epiphany 2015

Today’s Gospel reading is something of a continuation of the story of Jesus calling his disciples—even though last week we read from John’s Gospel, and today pick up in Mark’s. It’s a surprisingly short reading, but one that packs some punch if we’re paying attention.

We’re told that John the Baptist had been arrested, and Jesus shows up on the scene preaching the same message John had been, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." It’s a simple message, but one which had all of Judea rushing to the riverside to meet John (apparently)—not for fear of the coming wrath, but because (I think) these people hadn’t heard such good solid truth in all their born days, and (I also think) what John preached then, and what Jesus is preaching here was not cheap…

Anyway, as Jesus made his way along the waterfront, (a little like Karl Malden’s Fr. Berry), he finds these guys—dockworkers at best—at their daily labor. We know from what happens next that this is probably work all of them had done their entire lives—this was a family business. All the same, with a simple invitation, Jesus convinces Simon (later called Peter), Andrew and the two “Sons of Thunder” (James and John) to leave everything behind to become fishers of people.

Now, I can’t give you any absolute idea of what these men were like, but I don’t suppose they were the type of guys who spent their free time studying Torah. We can gather this from nicknames like Peter (which means rock) and “Sons of Thunder,” names better suited to a boxing ring than a mission from God.

Still…they knew enough that when a rabbi invites you to be a disciple, it’s an honor. Then again, how many rabbis could these guys have known? How sensible would leaving their lives and livelihood behind sound to men who worked hard for their daily bread? In other words, what on earth would cause these men to drop everything and follow Jesus?

Well, our natural inclination might be to say that they followed because he’s Jesus… But we have to remember that this is right at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. He’s still preaching John’s sermons, and isn’t famous enough to appear on grilled cheese sandwiches yet. However, if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that they responded to Jesus, because like John, what Jesus was preaching was hope, and truth—and it seems to me that Simon, Andrew, James and John were dying for it. And in a world that was probably buzzing with the legalism of the Pharisees and Sadducees; brimming with the angst of oppression; and near-bursting with the energy of revolution—promises of salvation were a dime-a-dozen, and there was probably a messiah on every street corner. But, a guy who preached truth, and invited people to a new life, and a new way of living—that was something. More importantly, what Jesus promised was far from cheap, and is why everyone on a boat that day wasn’t following him like the pied-piper.

Then again, we know that as Jesus’ ministry began to pick up steam, there were times when the crowds were so thick, it was all he could do to get away to pray once in a while. So long as Jesus was doing miracles, feeding thousands of people and preaching good sermons—the people couldn’t get enough.

Of course, it’s not until he sets his sights on Jerusalem and warns the people about the cost of discipleship that the crowd begins to go thin. This, of course, is because for all that what Jesus promises is true, it also comes at great risk, and personal cost.

And this is something that I think many people find too difficult to accept.

In the spiritual classic The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer talks at length about what true discipleship asks of us. Bonhoeffer, of course, was a pastor and theologian who was martyred in a Nazi concentration camp in 1945 because of his work against the Nazi party. So, I suppose we can trust that he knows what he’s talking about in this regard.

Warning against what he terms “cheap grace,” Bonhoeffer says:

          The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and,                             because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing... Cheap grace is the grace we                   bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring                             repentance, baptism without church discipline. Communion without confession,                                   absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace                     without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate...

         

          [Costly grace] is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye                         which causes him to stumble; it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his                     nets and follows him...

                  Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to           follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it                        gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it                        justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son.

There is this wonderful hymn in our hymnals that not too many people get to see. It’s Hymn 661, and it’s called “They cast their nets in Galilee.” Strangely enough, the hymn tune is sort of calm, and lovely—but if you take a moment to read the words of the hymn—the contrast is almost startling. 

They say:

 They cast their nets in Galilee
Just off the hills of brown
Such happy simple fisherfolk
Before the Lord came down

Contented peaceful fishermen
Before they ever knew
The peace of God That fill'd their hearts
Brimful and broke them too.

Young John who trimmed the flapping sail,
Homeless, in Patmos died.
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
Head-down was crucified.

The peace of God, it is no peace,
But strife closed in the sod,
Yet, let us, pray for but one thing -
The marvelous peace of God.

 I suppose we can guess why it doesn’t get a lot of air play. It’s far from happy-clappy, and there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of “good news” in it—especially for a church hymn. But, what I think I find so amazing about it is that it’s true. It doesn’t try to sugar coat what was waiting for the disciples when they followed Jesus that day. It doesn’t water-down what the Gospel cost them, and it doesn’t obscure what our faith asks of all of us. Because the call of Jesus on our lives is the call to follow wherever the road leads—and if his way is any indication, we know that the way leads to the cross, on this side of things.

And yet, I have to believe for people in our day and age who live in a culture of plastic, illusion and false promises—a little bit of truth goes a long, long way…even if it means our lives. Because, like Simon, Andrew, James and John; I feel like we’re treading the water of a very selfish culture that tempts us with all that we think we could want. On the other hand we want to play with the gasoline of faith, and the fire of the Holy Spirit… And do we think that this combination is going to lead to anything good?

It seems to me then, that we’re people just as desperate for something real as Simon, Andrew, and the Sons of Thunder… “Our hearts drunk with the wine of the world,” we wait for something true, something good, something real to rouse us from the dizzy muddle. Today we hear the words again, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people…” It’s as much a call to us today, as it was to those four disciples 2,000 years ago. And, as the great umpire, Bill Klem, said famously, “[a pitch] ain’t nothing till I call it.”

So, today, like every day, we have a choice to make. Will it be cheap grace, that asks very little of us, but does little for us or anyone besides? Or will we choose costly grace? Grace which tempts us to drop our nets and follow; grace which asks everything of us, and will doubtless break our hearts and us right along with it.

I’ll just say that we don’t have to look very far to see what cheap grace is worth. The news, local and global, are proof enough of what cheap grace costs us. So, with that in mind, and for all that it will cost us, are we willing to choose costly grace? Because we’re all dying for it, and so is the world…

2 Epiphany 2015

2 Epiphany 2015

“Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

This may actually be one of my favorite statements in Scripture. After all, Nathaniel is doing what any of us might do, considering the situation.

Nathaniel was probably comfortable at home when Phillip showed up to drag him off to see the Messiah—and guess what? He comes from the backwoods of Kentucky! Well, Nazareth, anyway… And so, Nathaniel responded pretty honestly in his skepticism…“Can anything good come from Nazareth?”

It’s kind of refreshing to find this sort of frankness, I think—especially in a “call” narrative, where Jesus is calling his disciples to follow him. I suppose I would just assume a little more romanticism to the moment, y’know? Maybe some doves, or butterflies, or fire—even fiery doves and butterflies…but, then, I suppose it’s not so much the moment of the calling that has the profound meaning—it’s what one does in responding to the call…

My own call to the priesthood was pretty lack-luster, actually. I remember I was driving my parents’ minivan with a couch hanging out the back. Our plans to go to Taiwan to teach English had fallen through, and Charity and I were moving our stuff into my parents’ garage, because we had given up our apartment…

Well, in situations like that (when you’re in your early 20’s), it’s hard to believe that your life isn’t over. So, while I was driving the 20 minutes to my parents’ house, I was freaking out, and trying to pray and listen for some idea or direction for what could be next. Without going to Taiwan, we couldn’t afford to pay for our Masters’ Degrees, and without a graduate degree, there isn’t a lot one can do with a Bachelors’ Degree in English…

So, as I drove, I started to think about a calling to ordained ministry that I thought I had years ago, which led me to college in the first place. But it was hard to take seriously because I had also rethought that calling, and switched to an English major when I realized that the Assemblies of God wasn’t for me…it’s also when I became Episcopalian.

However, for all that I tried to reason my way out of it—I couldn’t ignore it. Can anything good come from Lakemore, Ohio? (That’s the town I’m from originally.) We literally didn’t even have “one traffic light” until they annexed a few streets that had them some years back.

Anyway, as to anything good—I suppose that’s yet to be seen; but, I will say that after some discernment with Charity, and some other trusted people…I began the process and was ordained; and, as you might guess, it’s been easy peasey ever since. (I know, but when is it ever really “easy peasey,” especially when God calls us?)

I mean, even if we look at the call story of the Prophet Samuel—even though it has this charm to it, we know that things got really rough for him in his ministry.

After all, Samuel was the last of the Judges of Israel in the time before they had a king, and he was responsible for anointing Saul as king over Israel (even though he thought it was a terrible idea). He was also responsible for finding and anointing David as king—but these all happen much later.

In our reading, however, we find young Samuel, who had been given to the priesthood as a child, being awakened in the night by a voice calling his name. Of course, we know from the text that it’s the voice of God—but to this little boy, Samuel, he thinks it is Eli, the elderly priest who cares for him.

So, after a few times of having Samuel wake him up, Eli finally realizes what’s happening—and he tells Samuel that the next time he hears the voice, he should respond, “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening…” And we know he’s called to serve God as a Prophet—and, we know from the very beginning that it won’t be an easy career choice. But, like the disciples generations later, Samuel responded to God’s call.

Now in talking about all of this, I hope you don’t have the impression that God’s call to ministry is only stuff for ordained people…in fact, as Bp. Lee often reminds us, “God calls us all to minister, and the Church calls some of us to vocation.” He also points out that there is only one Priest in the New Testament, and that’s Jesus. In other words, the calling of God is not about selecting a few to do the work of the Church, but is a call to all of God’s people to Kingdom work.

This is what we affirm at our Baptism, and is what we affirm in our Catechism (the Outline of the Faith). So, we claim this identity as workers for God’s Kingdom, even as we claim Christ’s name as our own, and ourselves Children of God. These things are inseparable—and for thick or thin, richer and poorer, we’re challenged to commit ourselves again and again to this call to make Christ known, and for the work of building-up God’s Kingdom.

But that’s to say, that responding to this call, seriously, is not necessarily easy. This isn’t because God is cruel, or ruthless—but because it’s difficult to hold on to faith in this life, and the world presents us any number of challenges…and depending on where we live in the world, our faith may literally be a matter of our life or our death. And it’s when we understand this, on an essential level in ourselves, that we begin to see that our worship and our prayer is more than simply time to relax. This is our time to prepare for the true work of the Church, the Kingdom, which actually begins outside of these doors.

I really do understand that it’s a lot to ask of people, though. I know that if we really had a firm grasp on what our faith actually asks of us, we may start to see tumbleweeds rolling down the center aisle for lack of people on Sundays. But, that doesn’t change the truth of it.

Who knows, maybe if we could go back in time, we could ask ourselves, or our parents or Godparents if they were really sure they wanted to go through with this Baptism thing with all that it demands and entails. Maybe someone would have had the good sense to say “no, that’s too much to ask…”

But then, I don’t know that anyone would do things differently, if they’d met Jesus somewhere in their lives, too.

If the disciples had any idea of what following Jesus would mean for their lives, would they have decided not to follow?

If Samuel could have guessed that, even after Eli’s family was punished by God, that he would find himself in any number of other difficult situations with kings of Israel and foreign kings besides… If he could have foreseen all of that, would he still have responded to God’s call?

Honestly, something tells me all of them probably would have done it all again—because there is something so profound and life altering about meeting Jesus, about hearing God.

Yet, again, there is nothing simple, and certainly nothing safe about God’s calling. Yet, because we’re called in love, by Jesus, to share love; I suppose we find ourselves compelled to respond all the same, no matter what comes our way. However, because we have responded to this call to be followers of Christ Jesus, we are very much ministers—all of us, fellow workers for the Kingdom of God. But what will each of us do with this ministry?

Feast of the Epiphany 2015

Feast of the Epiphany 2015

According to one legend, when the Holy Family left Bethlehem to go to Egypt, to flee King Herod, Jesus was given a t-shirt, which read: “Three Wise Kings came to my birth from the Far East, and all I got was gold, frankincense, myrrh and this lousy t-shirt.”

Well, even if it’s not true, I suppose this is how rumors, not legends, get started…

Anyway, we begin the Epiphany season with the arrival of these Three Wise Men—Kings from the Far East who have followed a star to bring gifts to the newborn king of Israel. This is, of course, after an awkward detour to visit King Herod, the vassal king of Israel. (That’s vassal king, spelled V-A-S-S-A-L, in case you might have misheard me.) And it means that Herod was a king only by the authority of Rome.

Well, the Wise Men, who are a little surprised that Herod doesn’t know about Jesus, sort of wise-up (the pun was intended), and even though Herod says he wants them to come back and let him know where to find the newborn king (so he can also pay homage); the Wise Men realize he’s not to be trusted. So, after finding the infant Jesus and family, they return to the East by a different way.

As to the gifts they brought to Jesus—the gold would be helpful, but we might wonder why in the world they would bring frankincense and myrrh (items used to prepare people for burial). (Perhaps for effective foreshadowing…) But, then, that’s to say that the whole story is a bit odd. I mean, what would bring three, apparently important guys from the Far East (wherever that is) to greet a baby?

Newborn king or not, these guys were kings themselves—and I can’t imagine why they’d have any interest in the political (let alone religious) climate of Israel. It’s possible that where they came from, the Roman Empire hadn’t spread…so, what would make them travel all that way?

We’re told they followed a star—sure. This could have been a really important astrological sign to them. But we have no indication that after they visited Jesus that they converted, or suddenly took any more interest in him. We’re told that this was to fulfil prophecy, which is a common theme in Matthew’s Gospel…but, still, I can’t help but wonder , “why?” What was it that made these Three Kings travel to see the newborn Jesus? What did they hope to find?

Jesus, later on in Matthew’s Gospel, asks a similar question of the people after John the Baptist’s disciples had come to him. He asks the crowd about John. He says:

          ‘What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What                         then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft                         robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you,                        and more than a prophet.

 He says; "Truly, I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John 

           the Baptist; yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. From the days of 

          John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent 

          take it by force. For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John came; and if you                       are willing to accept it, he is Elijah who is to come. Let anyone with ears listen!"

Jesus basically forces the people to think honestly about why so many people went out to see John baptizing and preaching. See, Jesus knew by the way they had refused to accept his ministry—even though he had performed miracles—that these were people looking for a spectacle, not a Savior.

Nothing Jesus (or John before him—Moses and the Prophets for that matter) was offering was getting enough into the heads, hearts and bones of these people that they might receive the hope, health and healing that they needed for their weary souls.

But, then we know that church can be the same experience for some people. There are some who might attend church their entire life—and assuming the church is relatively healthy—these people never experience some amendment of life… It’s really too bad, and it might not always be hard-heartedness that makes it happen.

Then again, what about those who are changed? What about those people who did go out to the banks of the Jordan to see and hear John, only to have their lives altered forever—St. Paul even met some of John’s disciples in the Acts of the Apostles (well after Jesus had Ascended, and the Day of Pentecost had come and gone). What about them? What spurred them on to go out to hear someone who may just as well have come off as a madman?

As to those in the Gospels whose lives were changed by meeting Jesus, we know there were a number of them beyond even his closest disciples. But even those people—the disciples included—stepped away from what they knew and what was familiar to them to see, and meet Jesus. What roused them (?), sometimes at great risk, to make their way to this radical teacher from Nazareth? For some, it was desperation, sure—but for others it was a choice. So, what about them?

And, what can we say about these Three Wise Men? Were their lives changed by having set out to find the newborn King of Israel? I don’t know. But, if their experience with King Herod is just a sampling of what they were willing to face to follow the star…well, I think we can at least say that it was important to them.

Maybe the Buddhist saying is right, “First the intention, then comes Enlightenment…”

In other words, maybe our lives of faith aren’t always about knowing and calculating what waits for us ahead. Perhaps there are times in life when it really is best just to set out, and know that God is calling us—and the way ahead becomes clear only little-by-little.

 It’s a bit like Abraham packing up and leaving for Cana; or Moses leading the People of Israel to the Promised Land. True, there were some difficulties along the way, but most of those came up when they tried to meddle too much with God’s process. But, in the end, they came to the places where they needed to be—and God led them the whole way.

As we begin this Epiphany Season, and even this New Year, I think this story of the Wise Men is appropriate. And, likewise, this question: “What could make someone leave what they know, where they’re comfortable?” is also appropriate; because I think as a church we’re being asked this question. I also think as individuals who are trying to live more fully into an integrated faith are asking it of ourselves—“what could make me leave what I know, what keeps me comfortable?”

I think part of the answer comes when we realize that what we consider “comfortable” is really just the illusion of security. But, once we realize that it’s only an illusion, and is more about being able to anticipate everything that happens to us in life—well, we know that being able to anticipate everything is no way to live a life…

 But this isn’t all, because while we may not always be able to articulate what it is that motivates us to leave the places where we’re comfortable; we still trust that in leaving, we may find something wonderful.

This is especially true if the story of the Wise Men is any kind of allegory, because we know that what we find by setting out is Jesus…which really is wonderful.

So where will our star lead us as a church, as individuals? Well…simply put, to Jesus. But, that’s to say, we can’t account for what we’ll find along the way. It could be dangerous, uncomfortable, and we may even lose our luggage. But, if we can trust that what awaits us is worth the journey, then we can’t afford to wait idly for fear of what we imagine the road ahead might hold for us.   

Last Sunday of Epiphany 2014

Last Sunday of Epiphany 2014

Our Gospel reading today is a story that we regularly have at the end of Epiphany. Not only is the Transfiguration of Jesus one more really cool example of the power and presence of Christ being revealed (as per the meaning of the Epiphany season), but it also marks a shift in the Gospel narratives from Jesus’ teaching ministry to his focus on his journey to Jerusalem.

So, with that in mind, it makes sense that the designers of the Lectionary, in their infinite wisdom and creativity, should schedule this story as the Church prepares for its own shift to the season of Lent—and our own remembrance of the cross, and eventually the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection.

Now, as to the story of the Transfiguration; Jesus (who has just told everyone that they need to take up their crosses and forsake their lives to follow him), takes James, John and Peter up onto a mountain. We’re told that while they’re there, Jesus suddenly begins to glow. It says that his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white, and just as suddenly, Moses and Elijah appear standing near Jesus having a chat…

Peter, who was likely as confused as James and John says to Jesus, “Y’know, it’s really amazing that we’re here and all—shouldn’t we built tents for you and Moses and Elijah?”

We might wonder why he thinks this is a good idea to build tents—suffice it to say that it’s just the way they’ve always done it… And they really had always done it that way; we just have to remember the Ark of the Covenant, and all of the other really important things that they built tabernacles for…

Anyway, before Jesus can respond to Peter’s brilliant, if not orthodox idea—a cloud comes and overshadows them. The voice of God once again affirms Jesus as the Son of God; and when everything calms down, they see Jesus standing by himself, and he says simply: Get up and don’t be afraid.

Well, that’s easy for him to say. Because, I don’t know about you, but if I saw everything that just happened to Jesus happening to one of my teachers—well, I think a bit more than Ativan might be in order. I mean, even though they knew Jesus was the Son of God—that had all been cleared up at his baptism, and was regularly affirmed by his miracles—but then to also see Moses and Elijah, two men who lived thousands of years before, and were the personification of the Law and the Prophets standing with a glowing, shiny Jesus…well, that would be a lot to take in.

But, let’s be honest, ever since Jesus told everyone that they needed to go home unless they were ready to give up their lives to follow him—well, Peter and the boys were all at 6’s and 7’s. They were in too deep to turn back, but where Jesus seemed to be leading them didn’t seem all that safe, either.

However, if they were perhaps to judge everything based on what happened to them before the resurrection, maybe they would have left. However, after the resurrection of Jesus, everything started to make more sense—and whether it was the Transfiguration, or any of the other amazing moments that they experienced with Jesus—they couldn’t remain in those places and moments, because they were only pieces of the greater story. They needed to move forward so that they could experience the power and meaning of the resurrection.

Now, before we begin to feel that this story is too strange to have any practical application to our lives, consider Peter’s response to the situation. Obviously, there is some fear and trepidation at the cloud, the voice of God and seeing Moses and Elijah—but his response to seeing this amazing thing is that he wants to stay there and sort of enshrine the moment. However, as we well know, Jesus has a bigger mission in mind than to simply hang around with Moses and Elijah until the end of time—he’s trying to redeem all of Creation. And while we might find Peter’s apparent inability to get-with the bigger program a little tiresome; his response is understandable.

After all, how often do we find ourselves tempted to remain in the places that make us feel the most affirmed and good about ourselves? Maybe it’s not even that impressive—maybe it’s a matter of remaining just in the places where we feel ‘satisfied’ and safe… But whatever the situation, what is at stake if we choose remain in those places is the risk of stagnation. If, for example, we as people choose to stay at certain places in our life development, simply because we are comfortable—we know that we won’t grow into our fullest potential. In the same way, if an institution or church remains in a certain place, with a certain mindset simply because it’s satisfying, what will eventually happen is that the system will no longer be able to sustain itself, because it is no longer growing or developing.  

So, effectively what this reading calls us to remember is that we can never be satisfied to stay in one place or one moment—no matter how amazing it might be. Because where God may be leading us is far greater than each of the small satisfying moments along the way. And while growth and moving forward might be difficult, and even frightening for some—we still have to do it—because it’s really the only way to remain faithful to our call to be disciples of Jesus. This is not to diminish any anxiety that we might feel, however—after all, Peter and the gang was getting ready to follow Jesus to his execution. Instead, what we find for ourselves, at any precipice, or place of life change is this simple phrase from Jesus: “Get up, and do not be afraid.”    

7 Epiphany 2014

7 Epiphany 2014

As many of you know, we are fast approaching the end of the Epiphany season—the season where we recall the places and ways in which God in Jesus Christ was made manifest. And while many of the readings throughout the season  have talked about miraculous acts—these last couple of weeks, we see that things are changing. What Jesus is making known is no longer a show of outward power, but has instead begun to talk more about the heart of things.

In last week’s reading we remember Jesus talking about moving beyond the word of the Law, and paying more attention to the heart and spirit with which it calls us to live as God has intended.

So, we basically have Jesus going through some of the more infamous rules and cultural practices of the time (however, we know some of these to be timeless), and he is teaching the people either what is really meant by certain laws, or what is really preferable practice. And, as we have seen over the past couple weeks, Jesus is calling all of us not only to a fuller understanding of what God calls us to with regard to one another—but he is reminding us that it is what happens in our hearts that makes the difference. If we can learn to live out of this kind of thinking, then; Jesus explains that we can be the salt and light of the world.

Now, at first blush, taking this perspective about the law and commands of God might seem like kind of a cop-out. We might get the idea that we can justify certain actions if only we attach some hopeful good intention—this way when we break a rule we can always say that we had the best of intentions in mind.

However, this is the furthest thing from the truth. First, living from the perspective that we follow the heart of God’s laws means that our hearts must be changed. We read in the Old Testament reading that God calls the people to be holy because God is holy. And apart from that sounding like an impossibility, we have to remember that holiness, at it’s very basic, is whole-ness. So, if nothing else, we are called to be integrated people—we’re called to be people who not only try to follow the laws of God, but also understand them in the fuller context of justice, humility and mercy.

Secondly, trying to live out the heart of the law requires some real commitment to loving God and loving others as ourselves. Jesus says that the whole of the Law and the Prophets (the two things that make up the body of Scripture) hang on these two laws. So, assuming that we are always able to start from this understanding; things like making sure the poor are cared for becomes easier, and the more rigid rules become more tempered.

Finally, what Jesus is proposing here is far from easy. By calling the people to look deeper at their own cultural assumptions, and even their understanding of the law—he challenges them to see if they’re really right after all. As Jesus teaches, he says things like “You have heard it said…” or “there was a time when…” And he uses this language to introduce the many justifications that their culture had allotted to them that allowed them to not only live as the chosen people of God—but to make absolutely sure that no one else ever could be.

So what makes Jesus’ teachings particularly difficult is that rather than reiterating the shoulds and should-nots of the law, and continuing to allow for the justification of certain behaviors and practices that were at times violent, and dehumanizing –instead, he challenges them to think. But not only think; Jesus is challenging them to think with a mind that begins with loving God and loving others first.

The point is that it would probably be much easier if Jesus were a little less cagey about which rules to follow—or, even an outline to help us follow the laws step-by-step. But, then, that’s what the Pharisees and Scribes were all about (some attitudes never change), and Jesus said we were gonna have to do better than them if we really wanted to be the light and salt in the world.

  

In a couple more weeks, we begin the season of Lent. In the 40 days of Lent, we’re called to self-examination and reflection—the kind of reflection that Jesus is referring to in the readings these past few weeks. And while this is a wonderful time for self-reflection, and living intentionally by giving something up for Lent, or taking on a discipline—either way, what will we hope to learn? What will we hope to have change in us?

It’s my hope that we take this series of Gospel readings as a kind of preparation, and a reminder that we are called to a high calling—higher than being meticulous about rules or piety—but we are called to live our lives reflecting the heart of the law. Lent is a great time to get in touch with that fact. And if we can learn to internalize this lesson, we can live so that the law of God not only serves our benefit, but that of the whole world. 

5 Epiphany 2014

5 Epiphany 2014

Our Gospel reading today is perhaps one of my favorites; mostly because I love it when Jesus uses these rich images in the context of a short, simple lesson.

Prior to talking about salt and light (just to give some frame of reference), Jesus has just taught the Beatitudes—that wonderful list of things that are the shape of a faithful life committed to God. Things like blessed are the pure in hear, for they shall God; blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be shot by both sides…that sort of thing.

Anyway, to punctuate the lesson, Jesus says to those gathered: you are the salt of the earth… Now, this is of course a saying that we often use to describe really ‘good people;’ people who can be counted on; people who are genuine and honest—again, good people.

But for the people gathered who are hearing this, there is a whole extra layer of meaning. After all, salt in the first century was a pretty important commodity—and, unlike today, it was an expensive commodity. In fact, as many of you know, salt might have been used as currency at this time. A Roman Soldier who did his duties well, for example, would have been said to be “worth his salt.”

And whether salt was currency or not, we do know that the word salary comes from the Latin word salarium—possibly referring to money given to buy salt. 

Anyway, salt was important because it allowed food to be preserved for longer travel and for storage. This allowed people to have food beyond seasonal availability.

In a number of desert dwelling societies, salted bread is eaten to allow one’s body to retain water longer. Salt is also one of the essential elements used for replenishing electrolytes. 

Salt is used in a number of religious rites from several different religions. Salt is said to ward off evil spirits, and is used as an offering to beneficent spirits—just two of a multitude of examples. It was used with sacrifices offered in the Old Testament; and in some Roman and Anglican Rites, salt is a component in holy water.

Of course, all of these are important uses without ever even talking about its uses as a seasoning in food…

However, in the ancient world, salt was difficult to come by because the production of salt was difficult. Yet, because of all of its importance, places of salt production became cultural centers, and very important.

So, when Jesus says to the people that they are the salt of the earth; he’s referring to some of  these things. And even though he refers to the use of salt for seasoning—the extravagance, and expense of salt would not have been lost on these people.

Effectively, what could be taken from this statement is that those who are the salt of the earth are important. As salt then, these disciples are expected to preserve the world. They’re being asked to season the world, to help it have flavor. These disciples are being charged to be worth something to the world—and, of course, they’re to be an offering to God.

Now, I know none of this is new stuff to us. If we aren’t hearing about this in Epiphany, we’ve certainly heard this passage preached on a number of times. Perhaps we could even say that there isn’t enough salt to preserve the dead horse we seem to continue beating… (Ungh, that was bad, I know. Don’t get salty).

The point is well taken, though—as people called to be of use in the world, and however we choose to wax philosophical about salt and its nature—if the salt, or the people called to be salt don’t do what salt is supposed to do; it’s no longer really useful, and technically is no longer salt…

Light is the other thing that the disciples are compared to—they’re the light of the world. Light, Jesus says, doesn’t make any sense unless it’s illuminating things. I think all of us would agree this is true—and we might likewise agree that too much light can be difficult, as well. I mean, think of how street lights (while illuminating streets and neighborhoods) also make it almost impossible to see the stars.

A few months ago, when I went on retreat to a monastery in Three Rivers, Michigan; my colleague and I were both amazed at how bright the stars were when we got up for Matins at 4 am. In the distance, we could see the city lights of Three Rivers, but where we were, there was just an unobstructed view of the night sky and stars…

While, I’m sure that thoughts of light pollution were not an issue in the First Century—we might also agree that numerous Christian congregations were not on their minds either. So, following Jesus’ analogy, we might consider the idea of using light as a resource where it is needed, and as something that ought not to be forcibly used where is is not necessary…this might be the equivalent of sharing the light of faith where it can be life-giving rather than using it in an obtrusive way.

 Well, obviously I could go on and on about the subtleties of the applications of light and salt as allegories for spiritual life. Like I said, these are really rich images, and can actually be a very interesting subject to meditate on if ever you get a chance.

However, very simply; what can we take away from what Jesus says? Obviously this teaching was recorded in the Gospel of Matthew as a tool for learning even beyond that early group of followers. So, apart from the cultural and societal differences, we can fairly say that the lesson is still for us to ponder.

How do we live as salt of the earth, and a light to the world? Another fair question is how do we live this way in a culture that has issues with high sodium diets, and consider light to be a potential kind of pollution?

Obviously there are any number of people who claim to be Christians. We know that in the political realm that a candidate won’t even be considered unless they can speak God-talk; and we know that there is a thriving sub-cultural market which sells “Christian stuff…”

Add in denominations, churches, preachers, evangelists and faith healers who all claim to offer the most relevant, and attractive worship experiences around—and take into account that all of them claim true affiliation to the Christian faith; I would say that (taking Jesus’ analogy a bit further), we live in a world of spiritual light pollution and high sodium. In fact, I might even say that the over-saturation of ‘marketable Christianity’ has become so overwhelming that it has become distasteful… The salt has lost its saltiness.

But, ironically, I don’t think this is discouraging news. Because what this glut of spirituality challenges us to do is to genuinely be salt and light.

In his meditation about St. Leo the Great, Sam Portaro makes an interesting observation about salt. He mentions that in the making of hot cocoa, more important than the sugar, salt is necessary to actually bring out the sweetness of the chocolate. In this way, he explains, we as the salt of the earth are called to lightly compliment the world around us—not overpowering it, but drawing our the subtle good that is there.

As to light, then, we could say that our work is not to be flashlights used in broad daylight, but that we should be ready to help others to see a bit more clearly when things are darkest in life.

Now before we think this sounds pretty easy, we have to consider how we’re supposed to be the right amount of salt and light in the world. After all, we don’t need to add to the confusion.

Well, on one hand, (and this is the difficult bit) I think we need to understand that we really are salt and light. We have to start understanding that it really does matter whether or not we’re doing what we ought to do in the world. So, we have to take seriously that we are to be ambassadors of Christ’s love, and that we are to seek and serve Christ in all people.

On the other hand, we have to do this work without putting on airs. In the same way that salt, with all of its wonderful uses and qualities, doesn’t try to be sugar; so also we shouldn’t put on false piety, to try to appear more Christian. There are few better ways to turn people off than acting that way. It turns out that we are most savory when we are who we are—firmly rooted in our identity as people loved and redeemed in Jesus Christ. Because, if we’re ‘real’ people when serving others and sharing the love of Christ—we allow others to do the same—to be themselves, which is a good thing. Again, sort of like salt bringing out the flavors in cocoa, we are called to do much the same thing with our faith.

So what does it mean to live as salt and light? Well, in a spiritually over-saturated culture, I think it becomes a question of subtlety and skill. I think it becomes a call to retain our flavor by retaining our integrity. In other words, by being ourselves and rooted in our identity as Christ’s own—we are more able to be the salt that is needed to season the world; and the welcome light that illumines the dark places…   

4 Epiphany 2014

4 Epiphany 2014

Some of you may be a little in shock today—not so much about the weather—but because of the number of possible Feasts that we could choose to commemorate today.

Yesterday was the feast of St. Brigid, one of the great women saints of Ireland. Tomorrow is the feast day of both St. Blaise and St. Anskar. Today, of course, happens not only to be the feast of both the Synaxis of the Holy Groundhog, and the Holy Super Bowl, but also (eh.) Candlemas and the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple.

Now, I can guess which one of these most of you are hoping for, but I have decided to wait to observe the Synaxis of the Holy Groundhog until next year. So, today, we’ll just have to make due with the Presentation.

Well, the Presentation, for those of you who don’t know, is the day that we remember when Jesus, as a baby was presented in the Temple. This was a requirement according to the Law of Moses—as we have read in the Gospel reading. However, while this is a feast commemorating  an important event in the life of Jesus—in reality, it has more to do with Mary. Because, what we find if we look at what the Law of Moses says, we find that it is a requirement that a woman go to the Temple to offer sacrifice a certain number of days after she has given birth to a child. In keeping this Law, then, she is allowed to be considered ritually clean, and able to return to normal life.

However, before we start wondering why the feast day isn’t called something like “The Ritual Purification of Mary After Giving Birth to Jesus Day,” there is another part of the Law’s history that needs to be considered. And this is the idea that a first born son is supposed to be taken to the Temple, and dedicated to God, as a reminder that Israel was delivered from Egypt—and the first born sons of Israel were spared… So, perhaps it’s a bit ironic that Jesus, who we call our Passover Lamb should receive this sacramental sign.

Well, what happens when Jesus is presented in the Temple is actually pretty amazing. We know that Mary and Joseph presented the required sacrifice of two turtledoves—this was acceptable because they were poor and couldn’t afford the preferred yearling lamb. We also happen to know that when Simeon, the priest sees Jesus, he is overwhelmed, and we’re told the he was promised not to die before he saw the Messiah.

What I think is lovely about this is that even as an infant, the presence of Jesus was enough to give this elderly man comfort. And, of course, he offers this beautiful prayer that we still use today in our prayer offices—the Nunc Dimittis. (Legend: Only one of the 70 rabbis responsible for translating the Septuagint was said to have translated Isaiah to say that "a young woman will conceive," with the others translating it as "a virgin will conceive." The legend tells that this one rabbi was told that he would not rest in death until it was proven to him that God's plan was for a virgin to conceive a child. This rabbi was supposedly Simeon, and upon seeing Jesus, the promise was fulfilled.)

Anyway, along with Simeon, we’re told that there is also this woman, Anna, who is called a prophetess. Of course, like Simeon, when she sees Jesus, recognizes him as the Messiah. And the reading tells us that she spent the rest of her life telling people about the Messiah having been born.  

Now, even though I sort of made light of the Presentation being a Feast of the Church; what I do find to be interesting is the story behind it. I mean, the New Testament is full of people whose lives were changed by a simple brush with Jesus. There was the Roman Centurian; the Syro-Phoenican Woman; the Woman at the Well; the Gerasene Demoniac; the Woman with the Hemorrhage; and Blind Bartimaeus—and these are only a few. Obviously it’s hard to miss that most of these people don’t have names, but their stories are integral to the Gospel narratives.

In fact, the Gospels are made up with the connective tissue of people who are briefly touched, or brushed by the divine in Jesus Christ. Of course the purpose of these accounts is to reveal the identity and power of Jesus.

However, in our Gospel reading today…these two people who encounter Jesus are meeting him as an infant. And while I know there are a number of legends about Jesus performing miracles even as an infant—in our reading today, we have no indication of that sort of thing. Simeon and Anna just know—they just know, and perhaps they know because they’ve been waiting their whole lives to finally see the Savior.

Now, while this was obviously a life changing moment for Simeon and Anna—and, of course, an important enough event for it to be a feast day; what I also find interesting is that this event was probably not noticed by anyone else in the Temple…

I suppose in our imaginations, we have this vision of everything being quiet and reverent. Maybe we think that Simeon and Anna were in some centralized space; and in the quiet solitude of Temple worship, Jesus was presented, and all in attendance were suddenly enlightened by his presence.

Well, while this would make a great scene in a movie, this probably wouldn’t be what the experience was like. After all, we might remember from Jesus’ later life that the court outside the Temple functioned a lot like a marketplace, and there were stalls with people selling animals and everything else pilgrims would need for Temple sacrifice.

And then, you have to remember that the Temple priests were there offering sacrifices all throughout the day—and not all of the priests were responsible for sacrifice. There were the priests who were probably in charge of making sure food items were kosher. There were others who were taking care of the various other offices like circumcision—and like Simeon, offering the rites for children being presented in the Temple.

So, if we consider all that is probably already happening in the Temple proper, and then add-in the number of other children probably being presented in the Temple…well, the scope and scale of the presentation of Jesus is kind of diminished a little bit.

However, far from taking away from the importance of the event, I think it instead firmly roots it in reality. Powerfully so, even…

Because, I think if this event were as big as our imaginations make it out to be, we might stop and wonder how this fits in context with the rest of Jesus’ life. Obviously after this moment, Jesus was not immediately accepted as the Messiah by all of Israel. Instead, like everyone else, Jesus and his family went back home and went on with their lives. And if the Gospels are any indication, the next 30 years were unremarkable.

However, like Simeon, Anna, and all of the other nameless people that we meet throughout the Gospels—the people who had a real brush with God in the person of Jesus Christ; well, nothing about him was unremarkable.

In fact, we know that Simeon felt that he was allowed to finally rest, because he had seen the Savior. Anna, this elderly prophetess who had found her role in the life of the Temple finds renewed meaning in her work as she begins telling people about the Messiah being born. And it’s because of this small brush with Jesus that they’re remembered in Church Tradition as the last of the Old Testament prophets, and are venerated as saints.

But they’re obviously not alone. The Gerasene Demoniac (you remember “Legion”), tradition tells us, turned up not only later on as a follower of Jesus, but is even apparently present at the Resurrection.

The Syro-Phoenecian  woman, with her clever repartee with Jesus about dogs and crumbs is even now the subject of conversation and controversy—but is still a person whose story teaches us.

The woman at the well, whose witty conversation with Jesus scandalized the disciples, but still remains an example of Jesus reaching out to the disenfranchised.

Again, these are only a few examples, but all of them are remembered for their small part that they played in the Gospel narratives. However, while their parts might seem small in the context of the whole, I would imagine that for them, their brush with Jesus was the most important moment in their lives. So much so, that we remember them and respect them today not as foils for Jesus—but as people who were able to reflect the glory of Jesus Christ through their frail humanity. 

So with all of this in mind—this idea of a brush with Jesus changing lives, and how such moments shape and give form to the Gospel narratives: It makes me wonder…

Where have our brushes with the divine been in our lives? Where are the places where we have met Jesus Christ in our lives?

Were these more than just slight brushes, or were they life changing events? Either way, as we’ve seen in the examples of Simeon and Anna, even the smallest experience with Christ in our lives is enough to change us. What’s more, it’s such moments that shape the Gospel narratives.

So, I suppose for us, whether our experience was momentary, or momentous—how will we allow such experiences to be known? And how will we allow our stories to be part of Christ’s story and the Gospel? 

3 Epiphany 2014

3 Epiphany 2014

A while back when we still had the 9:15 Children’s service, we had an interesting conversation about today’s Gospel Reading. Effectively, drawing out this idea of being fishers of people, I asked what kind of bait one would use when fishing for people.

As it turns out, it’s a pretty difficult question to answer actually, because while we did discuss what sorts of things should be important to people, in general, all of our efforts to identify the best bait for people-fishing degenerated to general silliness. And somewhere between deciding that sandwiches would be good, and getting caught by a hook would be painful—we decided to end the conversation.

However, what I think is interesting about the conversation that I had with our kids is that it reflects, quite rightly, the whole Church’s understanding of “fishing for people.” Unfortunately, like the conversation I had with the kids, what often happens is that the Church discusses what ought to be important, but then allows the conversation to degenerate into general silliness.

And while, as many of you know, I have no problem with general silliness—when such silliness becomes the blueprint for how the Church goes about calling people to join in our life together; well, then it just becomes sad and a little pathetic.

The fact is, we get a whole slew of mixed messages about how to draw people into the Church. Whether it’s some new program, bible study, or the addition of a ‘Contemporary Worship Service;’ all of them promise greater numbers, and an enthusiastic membership, besides. Yet, for all of these things having been implemented in a number of different types of churches, in time, what we know is that they all inevitably see decline.

Because, while these things may have yielded success  in some ways, in some places—we have to remember that such things have never proven to be a ’magic bullet’ that is the answer to all of the Church’s woes. Instead, it seems to me, that we should first understand how we measure success. Secondly, we need to understand that what we’re fishing for is more than just people; we’re in the business of calling fellow disciples. The question, then, I suppose, is ‘how do we call fellow disciples?’

If you’ll recall from our reading, we see that when Jesus comes by and calls Peter, Andrew, James, and John; we see that they are willing to drop everything and follow him. Certainly, we could attribute their response to some divine aura that Jesus might have had while he was doing his earthly ministry. But, more likely, (from what we can infer from what comes before today’s reading), it seems that they could just have easily been drawn by the message Jesus was preaching.

‘Repent, for the kingdom of God has come near…’ You might recognize this message from John the Baptist; and now, from any number of tract-toting preachers who stand on street corners. But this was the message that drew so many people to John the Baptist; a simple message, yet a very hopeful message, as well.

Far from being a message of hellfire and brimstone, this message was an invitation to turn one’s life around—not for fear of eternal damnation—but because God’s Kingdom was breaking into our world; and anyone willing to put aside personal ambition was invited to be part of it.

Now add to this a culture and society that had become overburdened by religious legalism, cultural exclusivism and extreme economic disparity—and you have a message that would cause anyone to drop what they’re doing and follow along.

The irony here is that I’m actually talking about the First Century—and not the world today. 

However, putting it into such a reframe should offer us some perspective.

So, what’s happened that this message that really is Good News has become something so burdensome? I mean, why is it so awkward to try and share our faith?

Well, I suppose the obvious reason that is on most of our minds, is that we don’t want to be like those people who use the Gospel to bludgeon people. We don’t want any part of anything that hurts people, excludes people, or otherwise denigrates the dignity of another human being.

That’s not what we want to be associated with, and it’s not how most of us have experienced God in our lives.

Likewise, we’re probably not comfortable coming across to people as ‘holier-than-thou,’ or somehow better than others.

However, the only cure for a problem like this is to be an authentic, genuine person both in faith and in every other part of your life. This, of course means living faith more than talking about it.

And if any of us tries our best to be really honest and authentic in our faith, I think we find that we’re humbled by God’s grace. So, in reality, true faith leaves no room for arrogance or spiritual pride, but only humble gratitude.

But, all of our personal issues aside, I think that what we’ve also seen is that the Gospel message has kind of been high-jacked. Somehow, in a bid to insure attendance numbers and pledging units; there are some, who have made the Gospel as legalistic and abusive as anything the disciples were trying to get away from in the First Century. So, instead of being a message of hope and salvation to the lost, the Gospel message has been co-opted by snake-oil salesmen, and used as a tool to control people.

The interesting thing, however, is that many people have come to resent such an approach to faith and the Gospel message. And, in response, they have either given up on faith altogether, or they’ve given in and become Episcopalian… (I wish). But this is the kind of thing that we’re up against, and it’s not the only game changer—because along with battling a radicalized kind of Christianity, we also struggle to keep in mind our purpose.

In a lot of ways, we’ve been taught to be more focused on bodies than the calling of fellow disciples. But we also forget, Jesus only had 12 disciples—one of them betrayed him, and all but one of them and his mom stayed with him when he was crucified. So, we have to be careful about how we measure success. All the same, we also need to be be committed to living a life of faith and love that not only speaks to the transformative work of God, but one that invites others to experience the same.

Notice, I didn’t really say anything about talking…because, it seems to me that there are plenty of people who over-use the empty words of church-speak. So, even in the realm of faith and truth, we experience the cheapness of talk.

  

For me, I think this is in large part because we’ve forgotten that we need to show through our lives why following Christ has made a difference for us. Somehow, we’re being tempted not to trust that our lives, our actions and our choices aren’t enough to preach the Gospel—when instead, the way we live, our actions and choices are the very things that can affirm or betray the integrity of our words. After all, the invitation to change one’s life is meaningless if the one inviting hasn’t been changed also.

The point is that we need to live honestly and authentically out of our love of Christ, rather than pretend at an overly pious life, and destroy our integrity. This, after all, is exactly what diminishes the true power of the Gospel. The Gospel, which calls all of us to be changed and to experience more fully the power of Christ’s love.  

So, in the end, perhaps we don’t need Contemporary Music or even sandwiches on fishing poles to catch people—perhaps all we need is what we’ve already been given: lives changed by grace, and the story of why it matters.

2 Epiphany 2014

2 Epiphany 2014

This past Wednesday morning, I had an  interesting conversation with someone about how much both of us like John the Baptist. And while we knew that John was a little crazy, mean wore camel skin and ate honey and locusts—at least you knew where you stood with old John. I mean this was a guy who called people “a brood of vipers.” But then, for whatever you might think about John the Baptist, you have to, at least, respect a guy who can be straight, and doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

Maybe this was one of the reasons he had so many disciples—in fact, we even find that some of his disciples were still around, even in the book of Acts…so, whatever drew people to him, it was sustainable.

However, probably the most important attribute about John the Baptist (far beyond his compelling preaching, and fashion sensibilities) is his ability to know when to get out of the way.

If you remember back to the beginning of John’s Gospel, you’ll remember John the Baptist explaining that his job was only to prepare the way of the Lord—and  this, of course means stepping back when the Messiah finally makes himself known.

And this is basically what happens in our Gospel Reading today, where John points Jesus out to some of his disciples, calling him the Lamb of God. Instantly, we’re told that these disciples ran to meet Jesus, and even became some of his first disciples.

This sort of reminds me of the introduction to The 10 Commandments with Charleton Heston. For those of you who are familiar with the film, you’ll know that there is this introduction that is done by Cecil B. Demille, the director.

At the opening of the movie, then there is a stage with a heavy red curtain; and in the center is a microphone. From behind the curtain, steps Demille, looking important as he steps to the microphone to begin speaking.

At first, he explains in perfect 1950s diction, that such an introduction may seem “extra-ordinary,” however the story in the film, the story of the Exodus, is one of such extra-ordinary nature that it needed to be introduced.

The point is that once Demille, perhaps one of the most important filmmakers of his time, finishes preparing the audience for the film, he steps aside.  

For me, I see this idea of stepping aside as a pretty strong analogy for what we’re called to do as clergy. While we certainly have a role in leading worship and officiating the sacraments—when we’re at our best, I think it’s when we’ve remembered to get out of the way, and allow God to be seen.

But, then I don’t think this is limited to clergy only; because as Christians, all of us are called to seek and serve Christ in all people. Out baptismal promises ask us if we are willing to share the Gospel. 

And one of the reasons that I think we find that to be so hard isn’t necessarily because we’re ashamed, or uncomfortable with sharing the Gospel—instead, it could also be that we just don’t know when to get out of the way, and allow Christ to be seen.

What I mean by this is that often we get too wrapped-up in either thinking that sharing the love of God is about making sure we insert certain lingo into our conversations—or do our best not to swear at coffee hour. Or, maybe we feel guilty if we’re not showing up to church as often as we’d like—whatever. The point is that we often work way too hard at communicating the importance of spiritual life.

But where I think we run into real problems is when we think that we need to completely convince people; or pressure others to see and understand things the way that we do. And, usually the more we try to force such things, the more we find that what we’re trying to communicate is about us—and less about allowing people to meet Jesus Christ.

 In other words, we forget to get out of the way so that Jesus can be seen.

Now, what I mean by “getting out of the way,” can be understood by looking at our Gospel reading again, and seeing how John the Baptist did it.

 Effectively, we know that John the Baptist (or J.Bap as he’s known in many commentaries) had an important, vital ministry. He told everyone to repent and be baptized, because the Kingdom of God was at hand. People did it. But not only did they come to be baptized, some of them hung around, and stayed on with John as his disciples.

Not only did John have disciples, however, but he was also really popular. We’re told that even Herod, who John continually berated for marrying his brother’s wife, enjoyed listening to John’s preaching.

There’s even a time in the Gospels when the Pharisees ask Jesus by whose authority he was doing miracles; and Jesus turns the tables by asking by whose authority John baptized. In the end, the Pharisees were too afraid of the people who respected John to speak out against him.

So, like I said, John the Baptist had a really successful ministry.

However above and beyond all of that, the purpose of John’s ministry was to prepare the way of the Lord. And we see from today’s reading, that he never forgot that. At first sight of Jesus, John pointed his disciples to Jesus and said: there he is—that’s the one we’ve all been waiting for…

Now, what is particularly interesting about this reading is that rather than John spending a lot of time convincing the disciples of who Jesus was; he simply gets out of the way and points to him. John has already done the preparation work. So, when they see Jesus, it’s up to them to go and ask him what he’s about—not John.

Anyway, to sum all of this up, we know the importance of sharing the love of Christ with others. I’m even sure that many of us feel compelled to invite others to come to church, because we’d like others to experience what we’ve experienced of God.

But while we may feel that we just need to keep pressing people until they give in; I have to say that I don’t know of too many situations where that has been successful.

However, what I do know that works is when we do as St. Francis said, by ‘preaching the Gospel always, and when necessary using words.’ I think we say more in our actions and attitudes that we could ever say in a million conversations.

Not only that, but we should share our stories. We should share what all of this means to us. We should share how we’ve experienced God in our lives, and why it matters. Because, even though this runs contrary to most of Evangelical though, I do believe that when our actions speak of God’s grace, and our stories speak of Christ’s love; we have a much better chance of communicating our faith with authenticity.

What’s more, if we’re honest and authentic about our faith; I think we’ll know the times when we need to step aside, and simply point to Christ so that he can be known.