READING 1: Ephesians 4--portions
God wants us to grow up, to know the whole truth and tell it in love—like Christ in everything… And then take on an entirely new way of life—a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you.
What this adds up to, then, is this: no more lies, no more pretense. Tell your neighbor the truth. In Christ's body we're all connected to each other, after all….Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you.
READING 2: Luke 7: 36ff
When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. 37 A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.” Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said. “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii,[c] and the other fifty. 42 Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.” “You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.
Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. 47 Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be accepted and loved into being by you, O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen
As many of you know, I spent the last week on a rest and study week alone with God. I will try to spare you the “what I did on my summer vacation” speech, but I do want you to know that I both deeply needed and deeply appreciated the chance to get away. I didn’t go far; just far enough that I could resist the temptations to shut out God’s voice by keeping busy doing whatever caught my mind at the moment. There’s something about sitting in a chair by the side of a creek watching the fish jump in and out in the sunlight that just puts it all in perspective. I came away from last week with a deep gratitude for everything and everyone in my life. I came away with a deep sense of ‘rightness’ about allowing God to move Open Circle into her next phase. As much as I would like to tell you that God drew a picture in some blue sky and gave me an easy to read road map; that did not happen. What did happen was that God gave me peace—peace about trusting God and peace about trusting all of us to listen and respond to God’s voice calling us to increase our ministry in the world.
So today we come to a very beautiful story about Mary Magdalene. Mary Magdalene is a favorite of many of us—she has come to represent the “bad girl” turned righteous, and she lets all of us who have or had a wild side know that it’s never too late to seek forgiveness and “get right with God”. If however, we stop here, we have shortchanged Mary Magdalene herself and we have shortchanged ourselves. Perhaps we have even shortchanged God. Now, interestingly enough, scripture never tells us that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute. That is an interpretation that comes down through time presumably because the early interpreters of the scripture thought that was the worst a woman could be. So, we think of her in sexual terms—but Jesus never tells us the nature of her sin.
At Simon’s invitation, Jesus goes to visit this prominent Pharisee. We don’t know why. Mary Magdalene has heard of his visit and takes an expensive perfume in an valuable jar to offer to Jesus. We’re not sure what she intended to do with this perfume—was it to be a gift, or did she intend to anoint him all along? Whatever the case, she finds herself standing behind Jesus. So close to him, can you feel her mixture of emotions, her awe, her worship? She is crying; crying so much that her tears serve as a fountain of water to wash Jesus’ feet. She doesn’t have a towel, but that doesn’t stop her, she simply uses her long hair to dry his feet. Not stopping to think, she is lost in her worship and pours the expensive perfume on his feet. Now, this was not a man who engaged in weekly pedicures; no, this was a man who walked long dusty roads in sandals at best, and barefoot at worst. This could not have been a pleasant task—Mary Magdalene doesn’t care—so lost in wonder that she cannot stop herself from this act of worship.
Simon is enraged—enraged that Jesus would let her touch him at all. Simon suggests, clearly showing his rigid, stick-to-the-rules take on religion, that if Jesus really was a prophet, he would have known the kind of woman she was and would have jerked his feet away in disgust. Jesus puts a stop to his anger—tells him that he, Simon, did nothing to show Jesus a welcome; while this woman, this so-called sinful woman, cannot stop herself from literally pouring out her praise. And then Jesus tells a story about forgiveness and, suddenly, Simon and we along with him, have a chance to understand. We don’t know the depth to which Simon truly understood, but what I think we must understand is this: that those who feel the farthest from God, the most cut-off from God’s people; when they are welcomed in, they have the most room for praise.
Now some of us react to being lumped in with Mary Magdalene, thinking of her more as a reformed sinner than a woman who had experienced so much of life that her heart was open to the goodness, the healing, the forgiveness, and the welcome of God through Jesus. And these are the folks Jesus calls us to welcome. I think that the more Mary Magdalenes we have, the more we grow into being the full body of Christ. The more we reach out to those who are rejected and hopeless, the greater our potential for compassion and love becomes. This last week, in preparing for this sermon, I prayed this prayer: “God, send to this church the very people wanted by no one else”. And I intend to pray this prayer every day for as long as I am your pastor. I hope and trust that you will pray this prayer with me. For most of us, at one time or another at least suspected that we were among those people, those people that no one else wanted. And look at us now—singing, praying, serving, ushering, preaching, loving, and joining hands as Church!
Enter now, Paul, speaking to the baby Christians in Ephesus: he says, this is what God wants for you—to grow up and know the whole truth and to pass it on with love. Be like Christ in everything you do which will require you to live an entirely new kind of life—a life that is renewed from the inside. This inside change overflows into the part that everyone sees and as you will become new people as God’s character becomes evident. Then he breaks it down—I love that about Paul—he never takes for granted that I am going to understand what he has said—so he sums it up like this: 1. Be who you are—no pretending to be something else. 2. Tell your neighbor the truth because we are all connected in Christ’s body. 3. Tell it gently; be sensitive to one another. 4. Forgive each other—quickly and thoroughly like God forgives you through Christ.
The ability to forgive is a great gift. We need it to be church. For we will hurt each other along the way. Even gently, with sensitivity, the truth sometimes hurts. The joy of loving each other into this new life—this life renewed from within, sends us running into the world to invite all the Marys (and Simons) still waiting to hear the good news of wholeness and inclusion to come to this place, to this Jesus. This may be the greater gift. What Mary felt for Jesus that day was so strong, so powerful that no one could have kept her away. Jesus loved her, he forgave her, he welcomed her. And while he said nothing to her until the very end of the story, she knew, she felt it, she saw it, she lived it. This is the work of the church—this is the work of this church.
We come on Sunday mornings and other times, with broken relationships, broken dreams, and, sometimes broken hearts. But Jesus is always here; here in the singing, the praying, the speaking, the silence. This Jesus who welcomed those who did not know how to love themselves or others, showed us time and time again, that the door is open to everyone. We do not know what sin Mary Magdalene was guilty of, perhaps it was sexual impropriety, or perhaps her sin was that she did not love herself enough as God’s child to cease her destructive behavior, what ever that behavior might be. Whatever the case, Jesus didn’t care. There was no allocution of the facts, in fact, there was no trial—just immediate and free forgiveness.
How simple is that? We have been given this great gift of having been forgiven. Forgiven of what? Doesn’t matter—for some, it may be the simple inability to see oneself as a Child of God; for others, sinful acts or thoughts counted as much worse may lie heavy on your heart. Loving each other in love into this great gift—including all who come on their own, as well as finding those too fearful, too beat down, too hopeless to come—this is our response to the gift we have been given.
Like Mary Magdalene, we worship a God who welcomes us all to the table—some needing much forgiveness, some needing little. Jesus tells us that those of us most hurt, most scarred, most bruised by sin and the sins of others have the most room for praise and thanksgiving. How else can we respond except by committing ourselves to the inclusion of all in our midst, in our community, in our world. God, we open the doors to those not wanted by anyone else, for when we were farthest away from you, you were closest to us. In love, you let us touch you, praise you, and thank you. And now, we go forth to love and serve our God. Amen and amen.
Welcome!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
On God's Journey Together--May 15, 2011
God: we thank you this day for Christ, the good Shepherd who
loves us so much that He calls us by name and encircles our
lives with unconditional love. Let us gratefully open our hearts to
receive this great love. Amen
For those of you from traditions that follow the seasons of
the church, you may know that this is Good Shepherd Sunday.
Now most of us have a rather simple understanding of Jesus as a
shepherd—probably inspired by pretty pictures of Jesus cuddling
a lamb, or maybe the one with Jesus, staff in hand, walking with
an injured lamb across his shoulders. It’s a safe and comforting
scene, but it doesn’t quite represent what Jesus meant when he
said, "I am the Good Shepherd; I know mine, and mine know me."
In the context of the scripture passage, Jesus is actually
responding to the Pharisees who had accused him of being evil
because he healed a blind man on the Sabbath. What he was
really saying, was that he was not like professional, hired hands
who were paid for watching sheep and, in fact, only watched the
sheep for the money—never loving or caring for the sheep at all.
In contrast, he is a good shepherd, one who watches the sheep
because he cares about them—that is the only reason—because
he cares about them. Now, for thousands of years, the Hebrew
people had used the image of a good shepherd for God—all the
way back to Genesis—when God is called the Shepherd who
saves. Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekial and others used the
image and, David, the psalmist was very fond of the image. So
the Pharisees could not for a moment have doubted what Jesus
was saying to them—that they were like hired hands, supposed to
care for the people, but really not caring at all because they only
cared for themselves and what they could gain.
The Pharisees were probably good people, but they had
become legalistic rulers who cared more about the law than
people—more about rules and traditions that the lives of real,
hurting, needy people. So in walks Jesus, who turns the idea
of leadership upside down, and calls us to be servants and
shepherds, quiet, humble folks who invested their whole lives in
making sure that the sheep of their pastures had everything that
they need.
And it is in the context of this humble calling that we find
ourselves exploring all the gifts that God pours out into the
Church, capital ‘C’, and this church, in particular. The image of
the shepherd comes up again, after the resurrection, when Jesus
tells Peter that, if he loves him, he will be about the business
of feeding Jesus’ sheep. Not necessarily preaching mighty
sermons, or leading great armies of political conquest—just
feeding—the job of a servant—a very down and dirty ministry—
lots of preparation and lots of cleaning up.
Before we look at the gifts Paul enumerates in our passage
in Ephesians, it would be helpful to think about just how a
shepherd, well, “shepherds”. In the days of Jesus, a shepherd
did not walk behind his or her flock, screaming instructions and
beating them with sticks to keep them on a straight and narrow
path, No, a shepherd walked in front, always on the alert for
danger, seeking out the safest path to food, water, and refuge.
Often, several herds would mix together at night, but in the
morning, each sheep knew the voice of its shepherd, and would
follow the right shepherd out of the fold. They followed because
they knew their shepherd’s voice and because they trusted their
shepherd to be worthy of their willingness to follow.
That’s exactly the way it is with the church today—we are
followers of Jesus, we belong to his flock. And, as we follow, we
all have some of that “shepherd” DNA in us. We look out for each
other. If one of us falls, we stop and pick them up. If one of us
is hungry, we find some food; if sick, we find healing. If one of
us strays, we try, as best we can, to point the way. But we don’t
follow each other, we are all following Jesus on the journey laid
out for us by God. One flock, one shepherd—seems like it should
be all quite simple.
So, Paul, while he is in prison, writes this letter to
Ephesians—this same letter that we are looking at as we ponder
together what it means to be “church”, and, more importantly,
a church who follows the leadership of Jesus on this journey
with God. Paul tells the Christians at Ephesus to “get out
there and walk—better yet, run!—on the road God called you to
travel.” Paul has no patience for anyone who isn’t serious about
servanthood. He warns against going out on their own—“strolling
off”—our translation says, going “ down some path that goes
nowhere.” And then comes the crux of the matter:
“And mark that you do this with humility and discipline—
not in fits and starts, but steadily, pouring yourselves out for each
other in acts of love, alert at noticing differences and quick at
mending fences. You were all called to travel on the same road
and in the same direction, so stay together, both outwardly and
inwardly. You have, one faith, one baptism, one God of all, who
rules over all, works through all, and is present in all.” And we
know this because we know the voice of our shepherd.
But this is a shepherd who doesn’t expect us all to be exactly the
same—not even to serve in the same way. Paul explains, “But
that doesn't mean you should all look and speak and act the
same.” Now, that’s a relief for most of us. Paul notes that from
the generosity of Christ we are each given our own special,
unique gifts. And some of these are the gifts of apostle, prophet,
evangelist, and pastor-teacher to train Christ's followers in skilled
servant work…
As important as the specific, diverse gifts that Paul
discusses, there is the reason Paul gives us for the gifts
themselves—“to train Christ’s followers in skilled servant work”.
We are all to be trained for servanthood. But what of each of
these gifts? Apostles were originally charged with spreading
the Gospel and beginning new churches. In a setting such
as ours, apostles lead us in the development of a love and
justice-centered church and encourage us in all of our outreach
ministries—we have many apostles. I spoke of the prophets
among us last week, those whose faith enables them to believe
in a future that many of us have not even been able to dream.
Just as importantly, the prophets among us remind us of the
power of God at work in God’s journey that leads to places as yet
unknown. They call us to be about seeking God’s will for our lives
and the life of this church. They plead with us to not box God in
with our own narrow understandings and fears.
And then there are evangelists—the very word strikes
cynicism in our hearts. Mostly we equate evangelism with a
black box that sits in our living rooms or strange looking folks who
stand on street corners and preach the end of the world. But Paul
meant much more than that, and we need a fresh start—with the
courage to move out into our lives and tell people about the loving
God who created us, sustains us, and welcomes us—just as we
are—into the fold. We have good news and we need “Good-
News-tellers”—people who will find the courage to ‘come out’ as
Christians, in a world that needs to hear what we have to share.
We have many evangelists among us and as we grow together,
we will experience a wonderful surge in the numbers of you who
find it among your many gifts to go spread the word.
And finally, the pastor-teachers who lead us in deeper
learning and exploration of all that God intends for us to be. If
you think today that I am the only pastor-teacher God has called
to this church, I want to lovingly tell you that you are wrong. God
has placed many with that gift among us and as we develop
opportunities for Spiritual formation and growth, we will see the
number of pastor-teachers rise as many step up to become all
that God has gifted them to be.
And all for servanthood. We gratefully accept such
wonderful gifts because they are part of the exceeding abundance
here in this church. And we are all on God’s journey together,
loving each other, and caring each other into all the giftedness
that awaits us as God gives to us exceedingly abundantly more
than we can ask or think. And we, like Paul, recognize that we
are all “working within Christ's body, the church, until we're all
moving rhythmically and easily with each other, efficient and
graceful in response to God's Son, fully mature adults, fully
developed within and without, fully alive like Christ.” To God be
the glory. Amen and Amen
loves us so much that He calls us by name and encircles our
lives with unconditional love. Let us gratefully open our hearts to
receive this great love. Amen
For those of you from traditions that follow the seasons of
the church, you may know that this is Good Shepherd Sunday.
Now most of us have a rather simple understanding of Jesus as a
shepherd—probably inspired by pretty pictures of Jesus cuddling
a lamb, or maybe the one with Jesus, staff in hand, walking with
an injured lamb across his shoulders. It’s a safe and comforting
scene, but it doesn’t quite represent what Jesus meant when he
said, "I am the Good Shepherd; I know mine, and mine know me."
In the context of the scripture passage, Jesus is actually
responding to the Pharisees who had accused him of being evil
because he healed a blind man on the Sabbath. What he was
really saying, was that he was not like professional, hired hands
who were paid for watching sheep and, in fact, only watched the
sheep for the money—never loving or caring for the sheep at all.
In contrast, he is a good shepherd, one who watches the sheep
because he cares about them—that is the only reason—because
he cares about them. Now, for thousands of years, the Hebrew
people had used the image of a good shepherd for God—all the
way back to Genesis—when God is called the Shepherd who
saves. Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekial and others used the
image and, David, the psalmist was very fond of the image. So
the Pharisees could not for a moment have doubted what Jesus
was saying to them—that they were like hired hands, supposed to
care for the people, but really not caring at all because they only
cared for themselves and what they could gain.
The Pharisees were probably good people, but they had
become legalistic rulers who cared more about the law than
people—more about rules and traditions that the lives of real,
hurting, needy people. So in walks Jesus, who turns the idea
of leadership upside down, and calls us to be servants and
shepherds, quiet, humble folks who invested their whole lives in
making sure that the sheep of their pastures had everything that
they need.
And it is in the context of this humble calling that we find
ourselves exploring all the gifts that God pours out into the
Church, capital ‘C’, and this church, in particular. The image of
the shepherd comes up again, after the resurrection, when Jesus
tells Peter that, if he loves him, he will be about the business
of feeding Jesus’ sheep. Not necessarily preaching mighty
sermons, or leading great armies of political conquest—just
feeding—the job of a servant—a very down and dirty ministry—
lots of preparation and lots of cleaning up.
Before we look at the gifts Paul enumerates in our passage
in Ephesians, it would be helpful to think about just how a
shepherd, well, “shepherds”. In the days of Jesus, a shepherd
did not walk behind his or her flock, screaming instructions and
beating them with sticks to keep them on a straight and narrow
path, No, a shepherd walked in front, always on the alert for
danger, seeking out the safest path to food, water, and refuge.
Often, several herds would mix together at night, but in the
morning, each sheep knew the voice of its shepherd, and would
follow the right shepherd out of the fold. They followed because
they knew their shepherd’s voice and because they trusted their
shepherd to be worthy of their willingness to follow.
That’s exactly the way it is with the church today—we are
followers of Jesus, we belong to his flock. And, as we follow, we
all have some of that “shepherd” DNA in us. We look out for each
other. If one of us falls, we stop and pick them up. If one of us
is hungry, we find some food; if sick, we find healing. If one of
us strays, we try, as best we can, to point the way. But we don’t
follow each other, we are all following Jesus on the journey laid
out for us by God. One flock, one shepherd—seems like it should
be all quite simple.
So, Paul, while he is in prison, writes this letter to
Ephesians—this same letter that we are looking at as we ponder
together what it means to be “church”, and, more importantly,
a church who follows the leadership of Jesus on this journey
with God. Paul tells the Christians at Ephesus to “get out
there and walk—better yet, run!—on the road God called you to
travel.” Paul has no patience for anyone who isn’t serious about
servanthood. He warns against going out on their own—“strolling
off”—our translation says, going “ down some path that goes
nowhere.” And then comes the crux of the matter:
“And mark that you do this with humility and discipline—
not in fits and starts, but steadily, pouring yourselves out for each
other in acts of love, alert at noticing differences and quick at
mending fences. You were all called to travel on the same road
and in the same direction, so stay together, both outwardly and
inwardly. You have, one faith, one baptism, one God of all, who
rules over all, works through all, and is present in all.” And we
know this because we know the voice of our shepherd.
But this is a shepherd who doesn’t expect us all to be exactly the
same—not even to serve in the same way. Paul explains, “But
that doesn't mean you should all look and speak and act the
same.” Now, that’s a relief for most of us. Paul notes that from
the generosity of Christ we are each given our own special,
unique gifts. And some of these are the gifts of apostle, prophet,
evangelist, and pastor-teacher to train Christ's followers in skilled
servant work…
As important as the specific, diverse gifts that Paul
discusses, there is the reason Paul gives us for the gifts
themselves—“to train Christ’s followers in skilled servant work”.
We are all to be trained for servanthood. But what of each of
these gifts? Apostles were originally charged with spreading
the Gospel and beginning new churches. In a setting such
as ours, apostles lead us in the development of a love and
justice-centered church and encourage us in all of our outreach
ministries—we have many apostles. I spoke of the prophets
among us last week, those whose faith enables them to believe
in a future that many of us have not even been able to dream.
Just as importantly, the prophets among us remind us of the
power of God at work in God’s journey that leads to places as yet
unknown. They call us to be about seeking God’s will for our lives
and the life of this church. They plead with us to not box God in
with our own narrow understandings and fears.
And then there are evangelists—the very word strikes
cynicism in our hearts. Mostly we equate evangelism with a
black box that sits in our living rooms or strange looking folks who
stand on street corners and preach the end of the world. But Paul
meant much more than that, and we need a fresh start—with the
courage to move out into our lives and tell people about the loving
God who created us, sustains us, and welcomes us—just as we
are—into the fold. We have good news and we need “Good-
News-tellers”—people who will find the courage to ‘come out’ as
Christians, in a world that needs to hear what we have to share.
We have many evangelists among us and as we grow together,
we will experience a wonderful surge in the numbers of you who
find it among your many gifts to go spread the word.
And finally, the pastor-teachers who lead us in deeper
learning and exploration of all that God intends for us to be. If
you think today that I am the only pastor-teacher God has called
to this church, I want to lovingly tell you that you are wrong. God
has placed many with that gift among us and as we develop
opportunities for Spiritual formation and growth, we will see the
number of pastor-teachers rise as many step up to become all
that God has gifted them to be.
And all for servanthood. We gratefully accept such
wonderful gifts because they are part of the exceeding abundance
here in this church. And we are all on God’s journey together,
loving each other, and caring each other into all the giftedness
that awaits us as God gives to us exceedingly abundantly more
than we can ask or think. And we, like Paul, recognize that we
are all “working within Christ's body, the church, until we're all
moving rhythmically and easily with each other, efficient and
graceful in response to God's Son, fully mature adults, fully
developed within and without, fully alive like Christ.” To God be
the glory. Amen and Amen
Monday, May 9, 2011
We've Got What It Takes 5-8-11
First Reading: Ephesians 3: 20-21 (KJV)
Now unto God that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto God be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.
The Gospel: Luke 24:13-35 (The Message)
That same day two of them were walking to the village Emmaus, about seven miles out of Jerusalem. They were deep in conversation, going over all these things that had happened. In the middle of their talk and questions, Jesus came up and walked along with them. But they were not able to recognize who he was. He asked, "What's this you're discussing so intently as you walk along?" They just stood there, long-faced, like they had lost their best friend. Then one of them, his name was Cleopas, said, "Are you the only one in Jerusalem who hasn't heard what's happened during the last few days?" He said, "What has happened?"
They said, "The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene. He was a man of God, a prophet, dynamic in work and word, blessed by both God and all the people. Then our high priests and leaders betrayed him, got him sentenced to death, and crucified him. And we had our hopes up that he was the One, the One about to deliver Israel. And it is now the third day since it happened. But now some of our women have completely confused us. Early this morning they were at the tomb and couldn't find his body. They came back with the story that they had seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. Some of our friends went off to the tomb to check and found it empty just as the women said, but they didn't see Jesus." Then he said to them, "So thick-headed! So slow-hearted! Why can't you simply believe all that the prophets said? Don't you see that these things had to happen, that the Messiah had to suffer and only then enter into his glory?" Then he started at the beginning, with the Books of Moses, and went on through all the Prophets, pointing out everything in the Scriptures that referred to him.
They came to the edge of the village where they were headed. He acted as if he were going on but they pressed him: "Stay and have supper with us. It's nearly evening; the day is done." So he went in with them. And here is what happened: He sat down at the table with them. Taking the bread, he blessed and broke and gave it to them. At that moment, open-eyed, wide-eyed, they recognized him. And then he disappeared.
Back and forth they talked. "Didn't we feel on fire as he conversed with us on the road, as he opened up the Scriptures for us?" They didn't waste a minute. They were up and on their way back to Jerusalem. They found the Eleven and their friends gathered together, talking away: "It's really happened! The Master has been raised up—Simon saw him!"
Then the two went over everything that happened on the road and how they recognized him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God, creator and sustainer of us all, walk beside us on these roads of life. Open our eyes to know that you are there and our ears to hear your words of challenge and peace. In the name of the one who walks before us, we pray. Amen
“Now unto God that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, unto God be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.” Welcome to a summer of exceeding abundance at Open Circle MCC. God has spoken to me in mighty ways in the last week as I have meditated on our scripture passages. We are right at the edge of summer—the hot weather tells us so and the rains, hopefully, will soon come. But the spiritual rain is present with us already and with it come blessings far beyond what we can even imagine. And so we enter a summer of exceeding abundance.
Both of our scripture passages today are about the same phenomenon. In the letter to Ephesians, Paul gives thanks and praise to the God who is able to do far beyond our wildest expectations by the power that works in and through us—catch hold of that for a moment as we look at the story of our weary travelers headed to Emmaus.
There are several interesting facts about this story. One, we have no idea of why they are going to Emmaus and, two, Emmaus has never been identified as a real town. We only know that it is 7 miles outside of Jerusalem—a long way to walk indeed. We only know the name of one of these travelers and many scholars suggest that the other traveler may well have been a woman—un-named because her presence would not have been valued enough to include her name. But, nevertheless, the two are walking on Sunday evening. And they are sad and dejected, hopeless and tired. They are leaving Jerusalem after the longest weekend of their lives with no real answers. And suddenly, there are three.
But we, the audience, are the only ones who know this is Jesus. Cleopas and his friend or wife, have no clue. We don’t know if they even had that vague “I must know you from somewhere feeling”, but we do know that they didn’t recognize him. Jesus asks them why they are so sad. They look at him in amazement, probably in amazement that there was anyone left in their little world who did not know that the death of Jesus of Nazareth, once thought to be a great preacher, teacher, and savior, had dashed all their hopes, snuffed out all the fires of excitement and passion that he had started in the last three years. They tell him about the stories of the women, which rather than giving them hope seem to have confused and frustrated them even further. Jesus, still an unknown stranger to them, responds, “Silly fools, don’t you understand that all these things had to happen in order for the story to be complete—for this Jesus to enter into his glory?” Then, and remember 7 miles is a long way on foot, he “started at the beginning, with the Books of Moses, and went on through all the Prophets, pointing out everything in the Scriptures that referred to him”. These two friends certainly got more than they bargained for from this stranger—still, however, they do not know who is walking along beside them. They cannot see, their eyes, and, more importantly, their hearts, do not yet recognize him.
Finally, when it is late, they reach their home and invite him in to eat. He accepts, almost reluctantly, and then a strange thing happens. As they sit to eat, he becomes the host—breaking and blessing the bread—and giving it to them. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it comes to them who he is, and just like that—he is gone. Perhaps the déjà-vu of all the other meals they had eaten with him—that time when the 5,000 ate from just a few loaves and fishes, and just a few days ago, when they gathered for the Passover meal—perhaps it was those memories that illuminate their dark minds, shedding enough light for them to get it. And they asked themselves—“surely something convinced us it was him all along. We couldn’t have been that dense. Surely we knew!” But, in reality, they didn’t.
And we, the church, are in a similar position to these two weary folks walking to Emmaus. We weren’t there on Easter morning—not really, and we have not seen the risen Lord with our own eyes—that is, until the bread is broken, the cup is shared and suddenly we know! We know that we are in the presence of this same Jesus, sent by God, our Creator and Sustainer, who waits for us to acknowledge that we know in whose presence we walk. And with this gift comes the knowledge that knocks us to our knees—that this same God, who works in and through us, is able to give us, creations of God, exceedingly abundantly more than we could ask or think—not just more—exceedingly abundantly more than we can ask or think.
And here we are, ready to walk along with Jesus, who wants to show us this exceeding abundance—who waits for our eyes to be open in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup—waits for us to recognize the many gifts that we have been given and will be given in the days to come. This is a church of exceeding abundance—and I think sometimes we forget—we get used to all that God is doing in our lives, personal and communal, and we forget. Or we get lost in the day to day upsets or trials that threaten to rock our sometimes tentative hold on the wonder of the day. But in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup, we remember who we are and whose we are. And this is the gift we are given today—no matter our joy or sorrow, our excitement or complacence, Jesus waits for us to open our spiritual eyes and see.
Now let me be the first to admit that it is harder for some of us to see than others. Some of us have erected thicker walls, have accumulated greater doubts. And I, for one, am glad, that there are those folks among us, who believe in our stead, who bridge the gap for us—while the rest of us catch up to the knowledge that this exceeding abundance waits for us. Perhaps, that is their gift to us—their ability to believe, not just for themselves, but for all of us. Every great Christian movement has had its share of those incredibly gifted folks—those folks who give buoyancy to the rest of us as we are coming to the surface to the knowledge of the abundance waiting for us. And, given the opportunity, I know most of you could name some of those very folks who walk among us. And we are grateful.
But Jesus waits to lead us all to that abundance, which far exceeds our ability to even comprehend what it might look like or calculate where it might take us. And so, we set forth, not just to chart a course for the future of our lives and the life of this church; we set forth to enter into that exceeding abundance that awaits us all. Jesus walked beside those weary travelers—all day he walked, and not once did they recognize the special gift they had been given—that Jesus could have chosen anyone, anywhere to spend his afternoon with, and he chose them. Let us not hold on to our blindness, failing to see that God could have blessed any group of people, in any location the way we have been blessed
as God’s people. This is the gift that we have, right in front of us—that we have what it takes to recognize and celebrate the working of God in our midst.
While I have tried not to, I have lost count of the number of you who have told me that this church has become for you what you never expected a church to be—this family, this dear group of people who gather each and every week—encouraging each other, challenging each other, loving each other. We must not allow ourselves to become, like those weary walkers to Emmaus, tired and unsure of our future. This great gift is already ours—Jesus has risen—and calls us to a place of exceeding abundance. We walk into that place ready to receive all that God has planned, knowing that never in our wildest dreams could we predict what God has in store. “Unto God be glory in the church—and in THIS church—by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end.” Amen and Amen.
Now unto God that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us, Unto God be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.
The Gospel: Luke 24:13-35 (The Message)
That same day two of them were walking to the village Emmaus, about seven miles out of Jerusalem. They were deep in conversation, going over all these things that had happened. In the middle of their talk and questions, Jesus came up and walked along with them. But they were not able to recognize who he was. He asked, "What's this you're discussing so intently as you walk along?" They just stood there, long-faced, like they had lost their best friend. Then one of them, his name was Cleopas, said, "Are you the only one in Jerusalem who hasn't heard what's happened during the last few days?" He said, "What has happened?"
They said, "The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene. He was a man of God, a prophet, dynamic in work and word, blessed by both God and all the people. Then our high priests and leaders betrayed him, got him sentenced to death, and crucified him. And we had our hopes up that he was the One, the One about to deliver Israel. And it is now the third day since it happened. But now some of our women have completely confused us. Early this morning they were at the tomb and couldn't find his body. They came back with the story that they had seen a vision of angels who said he was alive. Some of our friends went off to the tomb to check and found it empty just as the women said, but they didn't see Jesus." Then he said to them, "So thick-headed! So slow-hearted! Why can't you simply believe all that the prophets said? Don't you see that these things had to happen, that the Messiah had to suffer and only then enter into his glory?" Then he started at the beginning, with the Books of Moses, and went on through all the Prophets, pointing out everything in the Scriptures that referred to him.
They came to the edge of the village where they were headed. He acted as if he were going on but they pressed him: "Stay and have supper with us. It's nearly evening; the day is done." So he went in with them. And here is what happened: He sat down at the table with them. Taking the bread, he blessed and broke and gave it to them. At that moment, open-eyed, wide-eyed, they recognized him. And then he disappeared.
Back and forth they talked. "Didn't we feel on fire as he conversed with us on the road, as he opened up the Scriptures for us?" They didn't waste a minute. They were up and on their way back to Jerusalem. They found the Eleven and their friends gathered together, talking away: "It's really happened! The Master has been raised up—Simon saw him!"
Then the two went over everything that happened on the road and how they recognized him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God, creator and sustainer of us all, walk beside us on these roads of life. Open our eyes to know that you are there and our ears to hear your words of challenge and peace. In the name of the one who walks before us, we pray. Amen
“Now unto God that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, unto God be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen.” Welcome to a summer of exceeding abundance at Open Circle MCC. God has spoken to me in mighty ways in the last week as I have meditated on our scripture passages. We are right at the edge of summer—the hot weather tells us so and the rains, hopefully, will soon come. But the spiritual rain is present with us already and with it come blessings far beyond what we can even imagine. And so we enter a summer of exceeding abundance.
Both of our scripture passages today are about the same phenomenon. In the letter to Ephesians, Paul gives thanks and praise to the God who is able to do far beyond our wildest expectations by the power that works in and through us—catch hold of that for a moment as we look at the story of our weary travelers headed to Emmaus.
There are several interesting facts about this story. One, we have no idea of why they are going to Emmaus and, two, Emmaus has never been identified as a real town. We only know that it is 7 miles outside of Jerusalem—a long way to walk indeed. We only know the name of one of these travelers and many scholars suggest that the other traveler may well have been a woman—un-named because her presence would not have been valued enough to include her name. But, nevertheless, the two are walking on Sunday evening. And they are sad and dejected, hopeless and tired. They are leaving Jerusalem after the longest weekend of their lives with no real answers. And suddenly, there are three.
But we, the audience, are the only ones who know this is Jesus. Cleopas and his friend or wife, have no clue. We don’t know if they even had that vague “I must know you from somewhere feeling”, but we do know that they didn’t recognize him. Jesus asks them why they are so sad. They look at him in amazement, probably in amazement that there was anyone left in their little world who did not know that the death of Jesus of Nazareth, once thought to be a great preacher, teacher, and savior, had dashed all their hopes, snuffed out all the fires of excitement and passion that he had started in the last three years. They tell him about the stories of the women, which rather than giving them hope seem to have confused and frustrated them even further. Jesus, still an unknown stranger to them, responds, “Silly fools, don’t you understand that all these things had to happen in order for the story to be complete—for this Jesus to enter into his glory?” Then, and remember 7 miles is a long way on foot, he “started at the beginning, with the Books of Moses, and went on through all the Prophets, pointing out everything in the Scriptures that referred to him”. These two friends certainly got more than they bargained for from this stranger—still, however, they do not know who is walking along beside them. They cannot see, their eyes, and, more importantly, their hearts, do not yet recognize him.
Finally, when it is late, they reach their home and invite him in to eat. He accepts, almost reluctantly, and then a strange thing happens. As they sit to eat, he becomes the host—breaking and blessing the bread—and giving it to them. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, it comes to them who he is, and just like that—he is gone. Perhaps the déjà-vu of all the other meals they had eaten with him—that time when the 5,000 ate from just a few loaves and fishes, and just a few days ago, when they gathered for the Passover meal—perhaps it was those memories that illuminate their dark minds, shedding enough light for them to get it. And they asked themselves—“surely something convinced us it was him all along. We couldn’t have been that dense. Surely we knew!” But, in reality, they didn’t.
And we, the church, are in a similar position to these two weary folks walking to Emmaus. We weren’t there on Easter morning—not really, and we have not seen the risen Lord with our own eyes—that is, until the bread is broken, the cup is shared and suddenly we know! We know that we are in the presence of this same Jesus, sent by God, our Creator and Sustainer, who waits for us to acknowledge that we know in whose presence we walk. And with this gift comes the knowledge that knocks us to our knees—that this same God, who works in and through us, is able to give us, creations of God, exceedingly abundantly more than we could ask or think—not just more—exceedingly abundantly more than we can ask or think.
And here we are, ready to walk along with Jesus, who wants to show us this exceeding abundance—who waits for our eyes to be open in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup—waits for us to recognize the many gifts that we have been given and will be given in the days to come. This is a church of exceeding abundance—and I think sometimes we forget—we get used to all that God is doing in our lives, personal and communal, and we forget. Or we get lost in the day to day upsets or trials that threaten to rock our sometimes tentative hold on the wonder of the day. But in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup, we remember who we are and whose we are. And this is the gift we are given today—no matter our joy or sorrow, our excitement or complacence, Jesus waits for us to open our spiritual eyes and see.
Now let me be the first to admit that it is harder for some of us to see than others. Some of us have erected thicker walls, have accumulated greater doubts. And I, for one, am glad, that there are those folks among us, who believe in our stead, who bridge the gap for us—while the rest of us catch up to the knowledge that this exceeding abundance waits for us. Perhaps, that is their gift to us—their ability to believe, not just for themselves, but for all of us. Every great Christian movement has had its share of those incredibly gifted folks—those folks who give buoyancy to the rest of us as we are coming to the surface to the knowledge of the abundance waiting for us. And, given the opportunity, I know most of you could name some of those very folks who walk among us. And we are grateful.
But Jesus waits to lead us all to that abundance, which far exceeds our ability to even comprehend what it might look like or calculate where it might take us. And so, we set forth, not just to chart a course for the future of our lives and the life of this church; we set forth to enter into that exceeding abundance that awaits us all. Jesus walked beside those weary travelers—all day he walked, and not once did they recognize the special gift they had been given—that Jesus could have chosen anyone, anywhere to spend his afternoon with, and he chose them. Let us not hold on to our blindness, failing to see that God could have blessed any group of people, in any location the way we have been blessed
as God’s people. This is the gift that we have, right in front of us—that we have what it takes to recognize and celebrate the working of God in our midst.
While I have tried not to, I have lost count of the number of you who have told me that this church has become for you what you never expected a church to be—this family, this dear group of people who gather each and every week—encouraging each other, challenging each other, loving each other. We must not allow ourselves to become, like those weary walkers to Emmaus, tired and unsure of our future. This great gift is already ours—Jesus has risen—and calls us to a place of exceeding abundance. We walk into that place ready to receive all that God has planned, knowing that never in our wildest dreams could we predict what God has in store. “Unto God be glory in the church—and in THIS church—by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end.” Amen and Amen.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
What Marvelous Gifts We Are 5-11-11
First Reading: Ephesians 2: 7-15, 20-22
Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is God’s idea, God’s work. All we do is trust God enough to allow it to happen. It's God's gift from start to finish! God does both the making and saving. Each of us are created by Christ Jesus to join in God’s work, the good work God has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing. But don't take any of this for granted. It was only yesterday that you outsiders to God's ways had no idea of any of this, didn't know the first thing about the way God works, hadn't the faintest idea of Christ. You knew nothing of that rich history of God's covenants and promises in Israel, hadn't a clue about what God was doing in the world at large. Now because of Christ—dying that death, shedding that blood—you who were once out of it altogether are in on everything.
The Messiah has made things up between us so that we're now together on this, both non-Jewish outsiders and Jewish insiders. He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. He repealed the law code that had become so clogged with fine print and footnotes that it hindered more than it helped. Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody.
God is building a home. We are all being used—irrespective of how we got here—in what God is building. God used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now God’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home.
The Gospel: John 20:19-31
Later on that day, the disciples had gathered together, but, fearful of the Jews, had locked all the doors in the house. Jesus entered, stood among them, and said, "Peace to you." Then he showed them his hands and side. The disciples, seeing the Master with their own eyes, were exuberant. Jesus repeated his greeting: "Peace to you. Just as God sent me, I send you." Then he took a deep breath and breathed into them. "Receive the Holy Spirit," he said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God—here we are, the Sunday after Easter, seeking your presence in a real way in our lives. Move among us today; breathe your life into us so that we may truly know your will and ways. Amen
God is building a home, right here, right now. And Paul tells us that God is using each and every one of us—irrespective of how we got here. Each of us are created by Jesus himself to join in God’s work, the good work God has gotten ready for us to do. What a marvelous gift we are—a gift to each other, a gift to the world, a gift to God. We don’t normally connect the idea of gifts to Easter—that’s more a Christmas kind of thing. But nevertheless, with the bestowal of the Holy Spirit on the evening of His resurrection day, Jesus calls us to a gifted and giftable life of following the will of God and becoming the bricks and mortar that form God’s holy temple.
What does it mean to receive a gift from God, to be a gift from God to others and to simultaneously become a gift to the very God who made us? It’s a three-fold process, this receiving and giving and being and it will take us several weeks to look at it fully. Today, we begin with our gospel passage. First, Jesus’ friends are hiding; terrified for their lives, uncertain of the future, as low as low can be. And in walks Jesus, the resurrected Jesus—walking back into their lives after the 3 worst days of their lives.
I think sometimes we fail to grasp how those disciples would have felt, they become such minor characters in the presumed ending of a story that focuses solely on Jesus’ death and resurrection. But, in order to understand the magnitude of the gift that Jesus gives, we must understand the enormity of their loss, their desperation, their hopelessness. Prior to Jesus’ death we encounter the disciples first as people who have relinquished their claim to their former lives, their wealth—if they had any, their homes, their prestige and their families. They leave it all and follow this man, Jesus, who says ‘come’. For the next three years we see various examples of Jesus teaching them, molding them into those who would eventually be left behind to carry on the word—his word—the word of who he was and is. Jesus has a tough time with this crew—God didn’t exactly give him the brightest and best scholars of the time and we see these folks troubled and thick-headed at times, but Jesus never gave up and loved them to the end. But nothing could have prepared them for this—so they are hiding, scrunched together in this room, waiting for who knows what.
They’ve heard the women’s story, but most of them have not seen Jesus for themselves and, suddenly, there he is in the midst of a room where the door is securely bolted and locked. And he looks at them—how Jesus’ loving eyes must have scanned the room—seeing who was there—holding each desperate face in his view just long enough for them to know that he loved them and that he cared about the pain they had endured. This Jesus, beaten almost beyond recognition and crucified in the cruelest way possible, looks at them and softly says, “peace to you”. And because he knew their need for more, he showed them his hands and side. And then our scripture says, “The disciples, seeing the Master with their own eyes, were exuberant. Jesus repeated his greeting: ‘Peace to you. Just as God sent me, I send you.’" And then the miracle happens and Jesus gives them his greatest gift. He took a deep breath and breathed into them. "Receive the Holy Spirit," he said. He breathed into them. He didn’t simply blow over them, he breathed the very life and energy of the Holy Spirit directly into their bodies.
Think of it like CPR. They were defeated, having nothing left to go on—indeed, spiritually as dead as could be. And if you perform CPR on a dying person, you don’t simply blow your breath at the dying person, you fill their lungs with your very breath—you use your breath to become their breath and thereby give them the gift of life. This is exactly what Jesus did that day and the disciples went from there to spread the miracle to all.
While Jesus may not breathe life into us in such a dramatic way, the giving of the gift is the same. It is there for us—the Holy Spirit, the gift of God to us that brings all that we are to life in new and wonderful ways. And so, this is it, the first step, the receiving of the gift itself and all the other gifts that God gives us as parts of who we are, what we are able to do and be, people to love and to love us and, even, a church where we have come home.
Before we reach the second and third steps which we only briefly introduce today, we must look at Paul to see the radicality of this amazing gift. Paul reminds us that we are where we are because of God’s gift. We are where God wants us to be—in a place in our lives where we can receive, but he reminds us: “Saving is God’s idea, God’s work. All we do is trust God enough to allow it to happen. It's God's gift from start to finish! God does both the making and saving.” And then he reminds us of why we are created and how: “ Each of us are created by Christ Jesus to join in God’s work, the good work God has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.” The excitement increases. Paul is talking to the Gentiles at Ephesus. And in Jesus and Paul’s time there were only two kinds of people—Jews and not-Jews. So, everyone except the Jews were ‘outsiders’ in Paul’s world. And the radicality of the gift becomes evident in what Paul says next to those not-Jews at Ephesus, “It was only yesterday that you outsiders to God's ways had no idea of any of this, didn't know the first thing about the way God works, hadn't the faintest idea of Christ. You knew nothing of that rich history of God's covenants and promises in Israel, hadn't a clue about what God was doing in the world at large. Now because of Christ—dying that death, shedding that blood—you who were once out of it altogether are in on everything.”
Paul, exuberant in his message continues, “The Messiah has made things up between us so that we're now together on this…He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance… Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody.”
And Paul almost shouts—you can see him rising up off of his stool as he writes: God is building a home. We are all being used—doesn’t matter one bit how we got here—we’re all together in what God is building. And then he gives a quick history lesson—the disciples and apostles laid the foundation—telling the story and starting churches, but now God is using you—some as bricks and stones, some as mortar—all centered around Jesus Christ, the cornerstone who holds all us parts together. Paul says “We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home. “
We must not miss the importance of the truth that Paul is calling us to hear. It forms the backbone of all the gifts among and between us. Quite simply, Paul is saying that there are no differences between us—that Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit into each and every one of us who will receive—that former differences don’t matter and current differences are washed away in the love of this Christ who broke down the wall. Indeed, we are all engaged in the building of God’s temple—short, tall, heavy, skinny, smart, not so smart, rich, poor, spiritually mature, those new to the faith—we are all gifted by God to build this Temple where God is ‘quite at home’. What a thought—we are building a community where God is “quite at home”.
And so, it is here that we begin this journey, ready for God’s gift to us, the gifting to each other and, finally, the gifting of ourselves to God. Join us for the next few weeks, studying together the specific gifts that God gives us along the way—those gifts that enable us to be gifts to each other and, ultimately, gifts to God. Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Let the gifting begin. Amen and amen!
Now God has us where he wants us, with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us in Christ Jesus. Saving is God’s idea, God’s work. All we do is trust God enough to allow it to happen. It's God's gift from start to finish! God does both the making and saving. Each of us are created by Christ Jesus to join in God’s work, the good work God has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing. But don't take any of this for granted. It was only yesterday that you outsiders to God's ways had no idea of any of this, didn't know the first thing about the way God works, hadn't the faintest idea of Christ. You knew nothing of that rich history of God's covenants and promises in Israel, hadn't a clue about what God was doing in the world at large. Now because of Christ—dying that death, shedding that blood—you who were once out of it altogether are in on everything.
The Messiah has made things up between us so that we're now together on this, both non-Jewish outsiders and Jewish insiders. He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. He repealed the law code that had become so clogged with fine print and footnotes that it hindered more than it helped. Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody.
God is building a home. We are all being used—irrespective of how we got here—in what God is building. God used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now God’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home.
The Gospel: John 20:19-31
Later on that day, the disciples had gathered together, but, fearful of the Jews, had locked all the doors in the house. Jesus entered, stood among them, and said, "Peace to you." Then he showed them his hands and side. The disciples, seeing the Master with their own eyes, were exuberant. Jesus repeated his greeting: "Peace to you. Just as God sent me, I send you." Then he took a deep breath and breathed into them. "Receive the Holy Spirit," he said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God—here we are, the Sunday after Easter, seeking your presence in a real way in our lives. Move among us today; breathe your life into us so that we may truly know your will and ways. Amen
God is building a home, right here, right now. And Paul tells us that God is using each and every one of us—irrespective of how we got here. Each of us are created by Jesus himself to join in God’s work, the good work God has gotten ready for us to do. What a marvelous gift we are—a gift to each other, a gift to the world, a gift to God. We don’t normally connect the idea of gifts to Easter—that’s more a Christmas kind of thing. But nevertheless, with the bestowal of the Holy Spirit on the evening of His resurrection day, Jesus calls us to a gifted and giftable life of following the will of God and becoming the bricks and mortar that form God’s holy temple.
What does it mean to receive a gift from God, to be a gift from God to others and to simultaneously become a gift to the very God who made us? It’s a three-fold process, this receiving and giving and being and it will take us several weeks to look at it fully. Today, we begin with our gospel passage. First, Jesus’ friends are hiding; terrified for their lives, uncertain of the future, as low as low can be. And in walks Jesus, the resurrected Jesus—walking back into their lives after the 3 worst days of their lives.
I think sometimes we fail to grasp how those disciples would have felt, they become such minor characters in the presumed ending of a story that focuses solely on Jesus’ death and resurrection. But, in order to understand the magnitude of the gift that Jesus gives, we must understand the enormity of their loss, their desperation, their hopelessness. Prior to Jesus’ death we encounter the disciples first as people who have relinquished their claim to their former lives, their wealth—if they had any, their homes, their prestige and their families. They leave it all and follow this man, Jesus, who says ‘come’. For the next three years we see various examples of Jesus teaching them, molding them into those who would eventually be left behind to carry on the word—his word—the word of who he was and is. Jesus has a tough time with this crew—God didn’t exactly give him the brightest and best scholars of the time and we see these folks troubled and thick-headed at times, but Jesus never gave up and loved them to the end. But nothing could have prepared them for this—so they are hiding, scrunched together in this room, waiting for who knows what.
They’ve heard the women’s story, but most of them have not seen Jesus for themselves and, suddenly, there he is in the midst of a room where the door is securely bolted and locked. And he looks at them—how Jesus’ loving eyes must have scanned the room—seeing who was there—holding each desperate face in his view just long enough for them to know that he loved them and that he cared about the pain they had endured. This Jesus, beaten almost beyond recognition and crucified in the cruelest way possible, looks at them and softly says, “peace to you”. And because he knew their need for more, he showed them his hands and side. And then our scripture says, “The disciples, seeing the Master with their own eyes, were exuberant. Jesus repeated his greeting: ‘Peace to you. Just as God sent me, I send you.’" And then the miracle happens and Jesus gives them his greatest gift. He took a deep breath and breathed into them. "Receive the Holy Spirit," he said. He breathed into them. He didn’t simply blow over them, he breathed the very life and energy of the Holy Spirit directly into their bodies.
Think of it like CPR. They were defeated, having nothing left to go on—indeed, spiritually as dead as could be. And if you perform CPR on a dying person, you don’t simply blow your breath at the dying person, you fill their lungs with your very breath—you use your breath to become their breath and thereby give them the gift of life. This is exactly what Jesus did that day and the disciples went from there to spread the miracle to all.
While Jesus may not breathe life into us in such a dramatic way, the giving of the gift is the same. It is there for us—the Holy Spirit, the gift of God to us that brings all that we are to life in new and wonderful ways. And so, this is it, the first step, the receiving of the gift itself and all the other gifts that God gives us as parts of who we are, what we are able to do and be, people to love and to love us and, even, a church where we have come home.
Before we reach the second and third steps which we only briefly introduce today, we must look at Paul to see the radicality of this amazing gift. Paul reminds us that we are where we are because of God’s gift. We are where God wants us to be—in a place in our lives where we can receive, but he reminds us: “Saving is God’s idea, God’s work. All we do is trust God enough to allow it to happen. It's God's gift from start to finish! God does both the making and saving.” And then he reminds us of why we are created and how: “ Each of us are created by Christ Jesus to join in God’s work, the good work God has gotten ready for us to do, work we had better be doing.” The excitement increases. Paul is talking to the Gentiles at Ephesus. And in Jesus and Paul’s time there were only two kinds of people—Jews and not-Jews. So, everyone except the Jews were ‘outsiders’ in Paul’s world. And the radicality of the gift becomes evident in what Paul says next to those not-Jews at Ephesus, “It was only yesterday that you outsiders to God's ways had no idea of any of this, didn't know the first thing about the way God works, hadn't the faintest idea of Christ. You knew nothing of that rich history of God's covenants and promises in Israel, hadn't a clue about what God was doing in the world at large. Now because of Christ—dying that death, shedding that blood—you who were once out of it altogether are in on everything.”
Paul, exuberant in his message continues, “The Messiah has made things up between us so that we're now together on this…He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance… Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody.”
And Paul almost shouts—you can see him rising up off of his stool as he writes: God is building a home. We are all being used—doesn’t matter one bit how we got here—we’re all together in what God is building. And then he gives a quick history lesson—the disciples and apostles laid the foundation—telling the story and starting churches, but now God is using you—some as bricks and stones, some as mortar—all centered around Jesus Christ, the cornerstone who holds all us parts together. Paul says “We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home. “
We must not miss the importance of the truth that Paul is calling us to hear. It forms the backbone of all the gifts among and between us. Quite simply, Paul is saying that there are no differences between us—that Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit into each and every one of us who will receive—that former differences don’t matter and current differences are washed away in the love of this Christ who broke down the wall. Indeed, we are all engaged in the building of God’s temple—short, tall, heavy, skinny, smart, not so smart, rich, poor, spiritually mature, those new to the faith—we are all gifted by God to build this Temple where God is ‘quite at home’. What a thought—we are building a community where God is “quite at home”.
And so, it is here that we begin this journey, ready for God’s gift to us, the gifting to each other and, finally, the gifting of ourselves to God. Join us for the next few weeks, studying together the specific gifts that God gives us along the way—those gifts that enable us to be gifts to each other and, ultimately, gifts to God. Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Let the gifting begin. Amen and amen!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
This is the Day! Easter Sunday 4-24-11
This Is the Day! Easter Homily 4-24-11
We are an Easter people! This is the day we’ve been waiting for—the alleluias are back, the choir is eagerly awaiting their turn to bring you the Easter message and the world, it seems, is primed for a fresh understanding of the resurrection of our Lord. And we are poised to be a people of the resurrection once again. Rising again, making it through the dark night, acknowledging daybreak with new eyes and, perhaps, a new heart and mind; this is the day that our alleluias swell beyond the smallness of our lives and join with the awesome alleluias of the church universal—throughout the world, throughout all time.
What is it about Easter that makes it all seem so new? When we were children, many of us looked forward not just to the candy, but to the new clothes. For those of us who grew up poor, it was the one Sunday a year that we were almost guaranteed something new to wear for church. New hats, new shoes, new ruffles or bow ties—all came to represent the change that happened each year sometime in March or April that capped off a strange and holy week of palms, and pain, and even death. Even as children we knew that something had happened—long before we grasped the concept of resurrection, we got the idea of ‘new’. And so we talk of Easter being a time when things are new and fresh, a time of new beginnings and new ways. A giant do-over, if you will.
But we must not miss the miracle. And the miracle is this: it is the same Jesus who taught us to love, who speaks to us in the garden this morning. The same Jesus who healed and taught us, who chastised and challenged us and called us to walk in the way of justice and peace—this same Jesus leads us out of the garden into the world to sing our ‘alleluias’ beyond these walls. Perhaps that is the most miraculous of the miraculous after all—that even after suffering and dying, and rising from the dead, this Jesus speaks to us of peace and forgiveness and calls us to understand once and for all, that nothing, nothing, nothing will ever be the same again. This same Jesus who walked this earth, putting life to the love of our creator, God, in ways that no one had ever seen; this is the same Jesus who lived, and died, and lived again so that we would know just how far one of God’s children would go to save the rest of us. And so our lives are made new in this living and dying and living again, we remember.
And as our alleluias pulse through us, grateful to be in this place on this day, celebrating the resurrection of this Lord, we rejoice in the resurrection of this Jesus who said “A new commandment I give unto you, that you love one another; as I have loved you,…” Today, as we recall the earthly life of Jesus and marvel that the stone has rolled away, let us open our hearts to loving one another, not just the one anothers gathered here, but all those one anothers whose names we do not know, lives we do not understand, and languages we do not speak. This is the call to resurrection, to Easter itself. This is the new way of being that this same Jesus who lived, loved, died, and rose again calls us to embrace with our resurrected hearts and minds. Let the Alleluias begin!
We are an Easter people! This is the day we’ve been waiting for—the alleluias are back, the choir is eagerly awaiting their turn to bring you the Easter message and the world, it seems, is primed for a fresh understanding of the resurrection of our Lord. And we are poised to be a people of the resurrection once again. Rising again, making it through the dark night, acknowledging daybreak with new eyes and, perhaps, a new heart and mind; this is the day that our alleluias swell beyond the smallness of our lives and join with the awesome alleluias of the church universal—throughout the world, throughout all time.
What is it about Easter that makes it all seem so new? When we were children, many of us looked forward not just to the candy, but to the new clothes. For those of us who grew up poor, it was the one Sunday a year that we were almost guaranteed something new to wear for church. New hats, new shoes, new ruffles or bow ties—all came to represent the change that happened each year sometime in March or April that capped off a strange and holy week of palms, and pain, and even death. Even as children we knew that something had happened—long before we grasped the concept of resurrection, we got the idea of ‘new’. And so we talk of Easter being a time when things are new and fresh, a time of new beginnings and new ways. A giant do-over, if you will.
But we must not miss the miracle. And the miracle is this: it is the same Jesus who taught us to love, who speaks to us in the garden this morning. The same Jesus who healed and taught us, who chastised and challenged us and called us to walk in the way of justice and peace—this same Jesus leads us out of the garden into the world to sing our ‘alleluias’ beyond these walls. Perhaps that is the most miraculous of the miraculous after all—that even after suffering and dying, and rising from the dead, this Jesus speaks to us of peace and forgiveness and calls us to understand once and for all, that nothing, nothing, nothing will ever be the same again. This same Jesus who walked this earth, putting life to the love of our creator, God, in ways that no one had ever seen; this is the same Jesus who lived, and died, and lived again so that we would know just how far one of God’s children would go to save the rest of us. And so our lives are made new in this living and dying and living again, we remember.
And as our alleluias pulse through us, grateful to be in this place on this day, celebrating the resurrection of this Lord, we rejoice in the resurrection of this Jesus who said “A new commandment I give unto you, that you love one another; as I have loved you,…” Today, as we recall the earthly life of Jesus and marvel that the stone has rolled away, let us open our hearts to loving one another, not just the one anothers gathered here, but all those one anothers whose names we do not know, lives we do not understand, and languages we do not speak. This is the call to resurrection, to Easter itself. This is the new way of being that this same Jesus who lived, loved, died, and rose again calls us to embrace with our resurrected hearts and minds. Let the Alleluias begin!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Rolling out the Royal Red Carpet 4-17-11
The Gospel: Matthew 21:1-11
When they neared Jerusalem, having arrived at Bethphage on Mount Olives, Jesus sent two disciples with these instructions: "Go over to the village across from you. You'll find a donkey tethered there, her colt with her. Untie her and bring them to me. If anyone asks what you're doing, say, 'The Master needs them!' He will send them with you."
This is the full story of what was sketched earlier by the prophet: Tell Zion's daughter, "Look, your king's on his way, poised and ready, mounted on a donkey, on a colt, foal of a pack animal." The disciples went and did exactly what Jesus told them to do. They led the donkey and colt out, laid some of their clothes on them, and Jesus mounted.
Nearly all the people in the crowd threw their garments down on the road, giving him a royal welcome. Others cut branches from the trees and threw them down as a welcome mat. Crowds went ahead and crowds followed, all of them calling out, "Hosanna to David's son!" "Blessed is he who comes in God's name!" "Hosanna in highest heaven!"
As he made his entrance into Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken. Unnerved, people were asking, "What's going on here? Who is this?" The parade crowd answered, "This is the prophet Jesus, the one from Nazareth in Galilee."
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God, we come here today at your invitation. You have called us to this place, at this time and we come into Your presence to learn and to love. Amen.
If you’ve ever been in a crowd of people that seemed to have a mind of its own, you know that there is a thin line of difference between celebration and violence. My scariest “crowd out of control” moment was on the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in New York City—some of you may have been there, too. Now I have one distinct disadvantage in a crowd—a disadvantage that many of you share as well. On that day, I felt the shortest I have ever felt as the tens of thousands of people all moved along the streets and sidewalks in a flow of celebration tinged with anger at 25 years of struggle with little to show. The 25th anniversary of Stonewall took place in the midst of the AIDS crisis. And the crowd was infused with just enough emotional highs and lows to make them volatile indeed. Fortunately, there was no real violence that day and the swirling mass of people eventually found their way to the southern tip of Christopher Street and as the crowds dispersed into the street fair, I could finally see open air (instead of the t-shirt of the guy in front of me) and I began to breathe normally.
We start this week in the crowd of “Hail, King Jesus” and “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” In the week ahead, we see played out in slow motion the unfolding of the events which will place Jesus in the midst of a very different crowd by Friday. A crowd who does not cheer, but rather jeers; a crowd that swears and accuses instead of sings; and a crowd who replaces today’s “Hosanna” with Friday’s “crucify”. Today’s crowd—likely followers of Jesus; Friday’s crowd probably not; more than likely, they were just festival goers, unaware of and uncaring about the political drama which pulled them into the turning point in the history of God’s people. Much will happen in the next six days.
But first, we start with the joy of today! Today we are one with that crowd waving palms and branches along the way. We wave our palms as we sing, feeling almost a little silly; perhaps forgetting that the waving of palms joins us with the followers who waved their palms that day as Jesus entered into Jerusalem and with all the saints in all the places and all the years who have waved Palms since. And so we begin with Hosanna to the King of kings! Imagine yourself in that crowd on that day—you may not have known, and according to our scripture, many didn’t—exactly what was happening—but if you were present, you knew that something special was going on. If you were near the front of that crowd, you could see this humble man riding on a donkey through the streets of the city. If you were far back in the crowd, you may only have been able to sense the awe in the shouts of hosanna. If you knew your history and prophecy, you knew that this was no ordinary King—a military king would have come in on a stallion. This man was different, this man was no ordinary king at all, but one sent by God. And you may have felt the emotions roll over the crowd like an incoming ocean wave rolls over the starfish and shells lying on the beach.
And then, suddenly, the day goes back to normal. The crowds disperse and people get on with living, completely unaware of the drama that will unfold over the next few days. Not so for Jesus—he went directly to the Temple and denounced what he saw, entered into the temple and drove out the money changers and then went out to Bethany with his disciples. This may have been the act that started all that was to come. In the days to come, the people continued to listen to his teaching and the priests and scribes began to plot to kill him as they were afraid of him and his power. The scriptures record many of the parables that he was telling the people. Underlying this narrative is the building subplot by the officials to quiet this man who spoke of righteousness and love. They tried entrapment but he outsmarts them regarding taxes by responding “render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s”. And so it goes, with sermon after sermon, parable after parable, prophesy after prophesy; Jesus never tires, working to leave as much for his followers as he could.
As he always did, he tries to reveal the bigger story to his disciples; and, as always they stay focused on the here and now—wanting specifics—unable to see beyond what is happening in front of them to understand all that Jesus is showing them. Jesus predicts many things including that the temple will be destroyed and that the disciples themselves will be persecuted and killed. He calls them to watchfulness—to be awake and aware—to see the signs and learn from them. Jesus teaches to the end.
And finally, the conspiracy begins to play out. Judas agrees to betray Jesus and actively looks for a time when he can identify Jesus to the authorities. Passover begins and Jesus makes plans to spend the Passover meal, his final meal, with the disciples in the home of an unidentified man. And then unfolds the beautiful gathering of friends, even the same friends who will later betray Jesus, and Jesus leads them in a celebration of life and love for each other that we remember this and every time we gather for worship. And then, there is Gethsemane…the long tortuous hours of prayer and supplication—the lonely hours when the disciples cannot even keep watch while their leader, teacher, and friend agonizes over what is to come. And what about the others, those who sang “hosanna” a mere 5 days earlier? We know that, except for a few, that crowd was gone now, probably in fear of what the officials were about to do, hiding somewhere, waiting to see what happened next.
We must not judge these weary followers too harshly. They, like many of us, were looking for a leader, a fantabulous, miraculous leader. But at the end of the triumphal entry lay more work, more journey, more earthly sacrifice. This was not a king who would change their world in a blink of an eye. This was a king who would invite the whole world into the reign of the justice of God—a reign that required treating others with dignity, justice, and love. Five or six days is a long time to keep a memory alive—we know that even today. What is news today will only be news for perhaps a day or two, and not even that if something bigger comes along.
We want to be done with Lent today—to get to the rejoicing. Palm Sunday seems almost like a cruel joke—a time to get us shouting with joy only to be dropped on our faces in despair by Friday. And we could look at it that way. But I believe that the meaning in Palm Sunday lies in Jesus showing us who he really was—that he would fulfill the crowd’s expectations only in the way that he was called to do—by riding a humble donkey as a king of peace. The shouts of earthly praise did not deter him from doing the hard, agonizing, painful work of sacrifice. What a temptation to become the king that the people would have had him be. And yet, Jesus, King of kings, submitted to the will of his God and took on the sins of the world—the sins of those who hailed him as king today and the sins of those who called for his death on Friday.
And so, I invite you to walk with Jesus the next 6 days—hear him teaching in the Temple and in the streets. Contemplate the love and compassion that moved him to welcome his closest friends—even those who would betray him—to a dinner full of love, and memory, and hope. And then, to walk the journey on Friday, to stand on the side of the road and watch this man of peace struggle to carry the cross—to want to reach out to touch him and help him and know that it is not to be—to feel the agony of his mother and the despair of his friends. And to wait—to wait to celebrate the miracle of Sunday morning—a Sunday like all other Sundays—yet always new with rebirth and resurrection and life. Amen and Amen
When they neared Jerusalem, having arrived at Bethphage on Mount Olives, Jesus sent two disciples with these instructions: "Go over to the village across from you. You'll find a donkey tethered there, her colt with her. Untie her and bring them to me. If anyone asks what you're doing, say, 'The Master needs them!' He will send them with you."
This is the full story of what was sketched earlier by the prophet: Tell Zion's daughter, "Look, your king's on his way, poised and ready, mounted on a donkey, on a colt, foal of a pack animal." The disciples went and did exactly what Jesus told them to do. They led the donkey and colt out, laid some of their clothes on them, and Jesus mounted.
Nearly all the people in the crowd threw their garments down on the road, giving him a royal welcome. Others cut branches from the trees and threw them down as a welcome mat. Crowds went ahead and crowds followed, all of them calling out, "Hosanna to David's son!" "Blessed is he who comes in God's name!" "Hosanna in highest heaven!"
As he made his entrance into Jerusalem, the whole city was shaken. Unnerved, people were asking, "What's going on here? Who is this?" The parade crowd answered, "This is the prophet Jesus, the one from Nazareth in Galilee."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God, we come here today at your invitation. You have called us to this place, at this time and we come into Your presence to learn and to love. Amen.
If you’ve ever been in a crowd of people that seemed to have a mind of its own, you know that there is a thin line of difference between celebration and violence. My scariest “crowd out of control” moment was on the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots in New York City—some of you may have been there, too. Now I have one distinct disadvantage in a crowd—a disadvantage that many of you share as well. On that day, I felt the shortest I have ever felt as the tens of thousands of people all moved along the streets and sidewalks in a flow of celebration tinged with anger at 25 years of struggle with little to show. The 25th anniversary of Stonewall took place in the midst of the AIDS crisis. And the crowd was infused with just enough emotional highs and lows to make them volatile indeed. Fortunately, there was no real violence that day and the swirling mass of people eventually found their way to the southern tip of Christopher Street and as the crowds dispersed into the street fair, I could finally see open air (instead of the t-shirt of the guy in front of me) and I began to breathe normally.
We start this week in the crowd of “Hail, King Jesus” and “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” In the week ahead, we see played out in slow motion the unfolding of the events which will place Jesus in the midst of a very different crowd by Friday. A crowd who does not cheer, but rather jeers; a crowd that swears and accuses instead of sings; and a crowd who replaces today’s “Hosanna” with Friday’s “crucify”. Today’s crowd—likely followers of Jesus; Friday’s crowd probably not; more than likely, they were just festival goers, unaware of and uncaring about the political drama which pulled them into the turning point in the history of God’s people. Much will happen in the next six days.
But first, we start with the joy of today! Today we are one with that crowd waving palms and branches along the way. We wave our palms as we sing, feeling almost a little silly; perhaps forgetting that the waving of palms joins us with the followers who waved their palms that day as Jesus entered into Jerusalem and with all the saints in all the places and all the years who have waved Palms since. And so we begin with Hosanna to the King of kings! Imagine yourself in that crowd on that day—you may not have known, and according to our scripture, many didn’t—exactly what was happening—but if you were present, you knew that something special was going on. If you were near the front of that crowd, you could see this humble man riding on a donkey through the streets of the city. If you were far back in the crowd, you may only have been able to sense the awe in the shouts of hosanna. If you knew your history and prophecy, you knew that this was no ordinary King—a military king would have come in on a stallion. This man was different, this man was no ordinary king at all, but one sent by God. And you may have felt the emotions roll over the crowd like an incoming ocean wave rolls over the starfish and shells lying on the beach.
And then, suddenly, the day goes back to normal. The crowds disperse and people get on with living, completely unaware of the drama that will unfold over the next few days. Not so for Jesus—he went directly to the Temple and denounced what he saw, entered into the temple and drove out the money changers and then went out to Bethany with his disciples. This may have been the act that started all that was to come. In the days to come, the people continued to listen to his teaching and the priests and scribes began to plot to kill him as they were afraid of him and his power. The scriptures record many of the parables that he was telling the people. Underlying this narrative is the building subplot by the officials to quiet this man who spoke of righteousness and love. They tried entrapment but he outsmarts them regarding taxes by responding “render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s”. And so it goes, with sermon after sermon, parable after parable, prophesy after prophesy; Jesus never tires, working to leave as much for his followers as he could.
As he always did, he tries to reveal the bigger story to his disciples; and, as always they stay focused on the here and now—wanting specifics—unable to see beyond what is happening in front of them to understand all that Jesus is showing them. Jesus predicts many things including that the temple will be destroyed and that the disciples themselves will be persecuted and killed. He calls them to watchfulness—to be awake and aware—to see the signs and learn from them. Jesus teaches to the end.
And finally, the conspiracy begins to play out. Judas agrees to betray Jesus and actively looks for a time when he can identify Jesus to the authorities. Passover begins and Jesus makes plans to spend the Passover meal, his final meal, with the disciples in the home of an unidentified man. And then unfolds the beautiful gathering of friends, even the same friends who will later betray Jesus, and Jesus leads them in a celebration of life and love for each other that we remember this and every time we gather for worship. And then, there is Gethsemane…the long tortuous hours of prayer and supplication—the lonely hours when the disciples cannot even keep watch while their leader, teacher, and friend agonizes over what is to come. And what about the others, those who sang “hosanna” a mere 5 days earlier? We know that, except for a few, that crowd was gone now, probably in fear of what the officials were about to do, hiding somewhere, waiting to see what happened next.
We must not judge these weary followers too harshly. They, like many of us, were looking for a leader, a fantabulous, miraculous leader. But at the end of the triumphal entry lay more work, more journey, more earthly sacrifice. This was not a king who would change their world in a blink of an eye. This was a king who would invite the whole world into the reign of the justice of God—a reign that required treating others with dignity, justice, and love. Five or six days is a long time to keep a memory alive—we know that even today. What is news today will only be news for perhaps a day or two, and not even that if something bigger comes along.
We want to be done with Lent today—to get to the rejoicing. Palm Sunday seems almost like a cruel joke—a time to get us shouting with joy only to be dropped on our faces in despair by Friday. And we could look at it that way. But I believe that the meaning in Palm Sunday lies in Jesus showing us who he really was—that he would fulfill the crowd’s expectations only in the way that he was called to do—by riding a humble donkey as a king of peace. The shouts of earthly praise did not deter him from doing the hard, agonizing, painful work of sacrifice. What a temptation to become the king that the people would have had him be. And yet, Jesus, King of kings, submitted to the will of his God and took on the sins of the world—the sins of those who hailed him as king today and the sins of those who called for his death on Friday.
And so, I invite you to walk with Jesus the next 6 days—hear him teaching in the Temple and in the streets. Contemplate the love and compassion that moved him to welcome his closest friends—even those who would betray him—to a dinner full of love, and memory, and hope. And then, to walk the journey on Friday, to stand on the side of the road and watch this man of peace struggle to carry the cross—to want to reach out to touch him and help him and know that it is not to be—to feel the agony of his mother and the despair of his friends. And to wait—to wait to celebrate the miracle of Sunday morning—a Sunday like all other Sundays—yet always new with rebirth and resurrection and life. Amen and Amen
Monday, April 11, 2011
April 10, 2011--The Journey from Endings to Beginnings
Reading One: Ezekiel 37:1-14 (The Message)
God grabbed me. God's Spirit took me up and set me down in the middle of an open plain strewn with bones. He led me around and among them—a lot of bones! There were bones all over the plain—dry bones, bleached by the sun. He said to me, "Son of man, can these bones live?" I said, "Master God, only you know that." He said to me, "Prophesy over these bones: 'Dry bones, listen to the Message of God!'" God, the Master, told the dry bones, "Watch this: I'm bringing the breath of life to you and you'll come to life. I'll attach sinews to you, put meat on your bones, cover you with skin, and breathe life into you. You'll come alive and you'll realize that I am God!"
I prophesied just as I'd been commanded. As I prophesied, there was a sound and, oh, rustling! The bones moved and came together, bone to bone. I kept watching. Sinews formed, then muscles on the bones, then skin stretched over them. But they had no breath in them.
He said to me, "Prophesy to the breath. Prophesy, son of man. Tell the breath, 'God, the Master, says, Come from the four winds. Come, breath. Breathe on these slain bodies. Breathe life!'"
So I prophesied, just as he commanded me. The breath entered them and they came alive! They stood up on their feet, a huge army.
Then God said to me, "Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. Listen to what they're saying: 'Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone, there's nothing left of us.'
"Therefore, prophesy. Tell them, 'God, the Master, says: I'll dig up your graves and bring you out alive—O my people! Then I'll take you straight to the land of Israel. When I dig up graves and bring you out as my people, you'll realize that I am God. I'll breathe my life into you and you'll live. Then I'll lead you straight back to your land and you'll realize that I am God. I've said it and I'll do it. God's Decree.'"
Reading Two: John 11:25-26 (The Message)
25-26"You don't have to wait for the End. I am, right now, Resurrection and Life. The one who believes in me, even though he or she dies, will live. And everyone who lives believing in me does not ultimately die at all. Do you believe this?"
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Lent: The Journey through Endings to Beginnings
4-10-11
Let us pray: God, God of healing, gently touch our lives with your Spirit. Bring warmth and comfort, life and wholeness, restoration into our fractured lives and spirits. Amen
I’ll admit it—the passage from Ezekiel today is a little far-fetched—just a wee bit over the top for most of us. And it may be that compared to the rest of the book of Ezekiel, which is often violent and difficult to understand, this somewhat interesting—in a bizarre sort of way—and certainly more hopeful portion of Ezekiel is what we most remember about our old prophet friend Zeke.
Our reading says “God grabbed me!’ Old Zeke was not out on a casual Saturday afternoon walk when he happens on to this valley full of bones. No, God put him there and put him there for a reason. But God starts with a riddle of sorts: “Mortal”, probably, “mere mortal, can you see a way to make these bones live?” Now here is Zeke, standing in the midst of thousands of bleached white bones—bones that weren’t even skeletons anymore, just piles of bones, and God is, are you ready—posing a riddle. Ezekiel, tired from all that has come before in his life, says, “Ok, God, I give—only You know the answer to that!” But if we are to know why Zeke is so tired, so exasperated or so hopeless, we need to know a little of what the poor man has been through in the years preceding the drama playing out before us.
Condensing several decades of history to a few sentences—it goes like this: Ezekiel was forced into exile in 597 BCE after having been a prominent—rising star, if you will—future priest to a priest who had no temple at all in exile. His wife also died earlier in the story, and God called Ezekiel not to mourn her, but rather to use the lack of mourning as an example to the rest of the community to stop mourning the loss of the Temple, which by the way had been destroyed by the Babylonians as they destroyed Jerusalem, killed most of the inhabitants and drove the rest into exile in Babylonia. This is the backdrop upon which the vision, so full of hope and resurrection, occurs.
Only by seeing this backdrop hung behind the platform where our desert scene plays out do we grasp the wonder of the amazing swirling winds tossing and turning the bones until they are fully formed human beings again, breathing the very breath of life that God has blown back into them. Only then can we truly experience the despair of Ezekiel turn to amazement and hope and joy as the resurrection of these people plays out before his, quite honestly, doubting eyes. But old Zeke does as he is told—he prophesies and prophesies until God is finished raising this valley of dry bones into an army of revived and restored souls.
The miracle in this story, or vision, if you will, does not simply revolve around the swirling and spinning bones. The true miracle is that it all plays out after the community has been completely devastated by loss. But the familiarity of the story can lead us to ignore all but that which fascinates us in the swirling and spinning which sets our senses reeling with utter amazement. In fact, we can become so fascinated with the rebirth of the bones that we forget the pain and trauma which got the bones into that dry valley in the first place. So here we are, two weeks before Easter, with a story that reminds us that we must not so single-mindedly focus on the coming resurrection that we ignore that which must come before.
What does this mean for us in the world—walking these ways in the weeks before Easter. I believe that it means that we must first be willing to walk in the depths of the despair that so pervades our world if we are to truly understand the heights of the joy that comes with resurrection. It also means that like, Ezekiel, we are to be active participants in the revival; we are to prophesy in word and deed until the hopelessness in the world is replaced with hope and despair with joy.
This Sunday is celebrated as Lazarus Sunday in many churches, and, indeed our statement from Jesus, “I am the resurrection and the life” is the very statement that Jesus says just moments before he raises his friend, Mary and Martha’s brother Lazarus from the dead. But the contemporary Lazarus Sunday is designated as a Sunday to remind ourselves of the hundreds of thousands of people in Africa dying of AIDS. Lazarus Sunday calls us, just as Ezekiel was called to survey the dry bones, to be aware of an entire generation of African people crying out “our hope is lost, our bones broken and fragile, we are cut off from the rest of the world.” This is one of many calls to hear our prophetic voice in the bone-filled valleys of despair—the prophetic voice that calls for a life-giving response from individuals, faith communities, indeed governments and corporations.
And there are more valleys of dry bones demanding our attention. This week our Moderator, Rev. Elder Nancy Wilson, called us to be aware of the situation for gay, lesbian and transgender people in Uganda. She says:
At a time when many nations are recognizing that LGBT rights are human rights, Uganda is moving rapidly in the opposite direction. In a country where gay sex is already illegal, Uganda's Parliament has spent two years debating new anti-gay laws which, in various versions, would mandate the death penalty for gays and lesbians, require a sentence of life in prison for engaging in a gay sex act, and even imprison persons who fail to report to authorities if they overhear a conversation in which someone acknowledges they are gay.
It gets worse... Sadly, some Uganda church leaders are fueling the anti-LGBT frenzy. For example, Rev. Martin Ssempa, pastor of an evangelical church in Uganda's capital city, regularly hold anti-gay rallies at which he describes all gay people as pedophiles and deserving of imprisonment or death. He even shows hard-core pornography at churches and Christian conferences to fuel anti-gay sentiment. Think that's bad?
But it gets worse...A number of American fundamentalist churches -- including some mega-church pastors -- are sending funds to support anti-gay in Uganda! Horrified?
It gets still worse...The current anti-gay frenzy in Uganda has created a climate of threats, intimidation and violence against LGBT people. The situation has become so volatile that many human rights groups now describe the situation there as a "Gay Genocide."
But I am happy to tell you that the story does not end there: there is hope—there is God’s prophetic voice speaking through this very denomination and other organizations working to end some blatant discrimination and hatred before the valley of dry bones becomes full to over-flowing.
Rev. Elder Nancy reminds us that on January 26 of this year, David Kato, head of Sexual Minorities Uganda, murdered in his home in Mukono, Uganda. She also wants us to know that “MCC's Global Justice Institute organized David Kato's memorial service at New York City's historic Abyssinian Baptist Church and helped organize a major rally at the site of Uganda's mission to the United Nations. And MCC has partnered with his organization and Integrity to establish St. Paul's Reconciliation & Equality Center, which offers safe space to LGBT Ugandans. This Center meets a pressing need for Ugandans who live under the daily threat of anti-gay violence. For some, it is a safe space where they can experience a time of freedom from persecution. And for others, it offers temporary housing while awaiting asylum to other countries.” And for this reason and others, she calls us to be a part of the prophetic voice of MCC in the world, through our special Easter offering and our daily walk and work in our communities.
Our final reflection on this out-of-the-ordinary passage is to remind ourselves that our old pal Zeke did not do this miracle alone. Yes, he prophesied, he followed God’s orders, but God gave the breath, formed the glue that held the once dusty bones back together and poured the life, quite literally into them. He opened the space for God’s breath to come in. When we seek the will and want of God, we walk headlong into valley after valley of dry bones. We do it each time we open these doors to another person who wonders if this is the place where they will find a community of people just like them, broken and battered, yet aching for the renewing spirit of God. We do it each time we speak up and out and call for an end to injustice for our community and for likewise marginalized communities everywhere. And we do it every time, we say “this is not the way the story ends—in pain and hopelessness!” Every time we prophesy as God calls us: Let these dry bones live and dance and go forth to bring the breath of God into the world. Amen and amen!
God grabbed me. God's Spirit took me up and set me down in the middle of an open plain strewn with bones. He led me around and among them—a lot of bones! There were bones all over the plain—dry bones, bleached by the sun. He said to me, "Son of man, can these bones live?" I said, "Master God, only you know that." He said to me, "Prophesy over these bones: 'Dry bones, listen to the Message of God!'" God, the Master, told the dry bones, "Watch this: I'm bringing the breath of life to you and you'll come to life. I'll attach sinews to you, put meat on your bones, cover you with skin, and breathe life into you. You'll come alive and you'll realize that I am God!"
I prophesied just as I'd been commanded. As I prophesied, there was a sound and, oh, rustling! The bones moved and came together, bone to bone. I kept watching. Sinews formed, then muscles on the bones, then skin stretched over them. But they had no breath in them.
He said to me, "Prophesy to the breath. Prophesy, son of man. Tell the breath, 'God, the Master, says, Come from the four winds. Come, breath. Breathe on these slain bodies. Breathe life!'"
So I prophesied, just as he commanded me. The breath entered them and they came alive! They stood up on their feet, a huge army.
Then God said to me, "Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. Listen to what they're saying: 'Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone, there's nothing left of us.'
"Therefore, prophesy. Tell them, 'God, the Master, says: I'll dig up your graves and bring you out alive—O my people! Then I'll take you straight to the land of Israel. When I dig up graves and bring you out as my people, you'll realize that I am God. I'll breathe my life into you and you'll live. Then I'll lead you straight back to your land and you'll realize that I am God. I've said it and I'll do it. God's Decree.'"
Reading Two: John 11:25-26 (The Message)
25-26"You don't have to wait for the End. I am, right now, Resurrection and Life. The one who believes in me, even though he or she dies, will live. And everyone who lives believing in me does not ultimately die at all. Do you believe this?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lent: The Journey through Endings to Beginnings
4-10-11
Let us pray: God, God of healing, gently touch our lives with your Spirit. Bring warmth and comfort, life and wholeness, restoration into our fractured lives and spirits. Amen
I’ll admit it—the passage from Ezekiel today is a little far-fetched—just a wee bit over the top for most of us. And it may be that compared to the rest of the book of Ezekiel, which is often violent and difficult to understand, this somewhat interesting—in a bizarre sort of way—and certainly more hopeful portion of Ezekiel is what we most remember about our old prophet friend Zeke.
Our reading says “God grabbed me!’ Old Zeke was not out on a casual Saturday afternoon walk when he happens on to this valley full of bones. No, God put him there and put him there for a reason. But God starts with a riddle of sorts: “Mortal”, probably, “mere mortal, can you see a way to make these bones live?” Now here is Zeke, standing in the midst of thousands of bleached white bones—bones that weren’t even skeletons anymore, just piles of bones, and God is, are you ready—posing a riddle. Ezekiel, tired from all that has come before in his life, says, “Ok, God, I give—only You know the answer to that!” But if we are to know why Zeke is so tired, so exasperated or so hopeless, we need to know a little of what the poor man has been through in the years preceding the drama playing out before us.
Condensing several decades of history to a few sentences—it goes like this: Ezekiel was forced into exile in 597 BCE after having been a prominent—rising star, if you will—future priest to a priest who had no temple at all in exile. His wife also died earlier in the story, and God called Ezekiel not to mourn her, but rather to use the lack of mourning as an example to the rest of the community to stop mourning the loss of the Temple, which by the way had been destroyed by the Babylonians as they destroyed Jerusalem, killed most of the inhabitants and drove the rest into exile in Babylonia. This is the backdrop upon which the vision, so full of hope and resurrection, occurs.
Only by seeing this backdrop hung behind the platform where our desert scene plays out do we grasp the wonder of the amazing swirling winds tossing and turning the bones until they are fully formed human beings again, breathing the very breath of life that God has blown back into them. Only then can we truly experience the despair of Ezekiel turn to amazement and hope and joy as the resurrection of these people plays out before his, quite honestly, doubting eyes. But old Zeke does as he is told—he prophesies and prophesies until God is finished raising this valley of dry bones into an army of revived and restored souls.
The miracle in this story, or vision, if you will, does not simply revolve around the swirling and spinning bones. The true miracle is that it all plays out after the community has been completely devastated by loss. But the familiarity of the story can lead us to ignore all but that which fascinates us in the swirling and spinning which sets our senses reeling with utter amazement. In fact, we can become so fascinated with the rebirth of the bones that we forget the pain and trauma which got the bones into that dry valley in the first place. So here we are, two weeks before Easter, with a story that reminds us that we must not so single-mindedly focus on the coming resurrection that we ignore that which must come before.
What does this mean for us in the world—walking these ways in the weeks before Easter. I believe that it means that we must first be willing to walk in the depths of the despair that so pervades our world if we are to truly understand the heights of the joy that comes with resurrection. It also means that like, Ezekiel, we are to be active participants in the revival; we are to prophesy in word and deed until the hopelessness in the world is replaced with hope and despair with joy.
This Sunday is celebrated as Lazarus Sunday in many churches, and, indeed our statement from Jesus, “I am the resurrection and the life” is the very statement that Jesus says just moments before he raises his friend, Mary and Martha’s brother Lazarus from the dead. But the contemporary Lazarus Sunday is designated as a Sunday to remind ourselves of the hundreds of thousands of people in Africa dying of AIDS. Lazarus Sunday calls us, just as Ezekiel was called to survey the dry bones, to be aware of an entire generation of African people crying out “our hope is lost, our bones broken and fragile, we are cut off from the rest of the world.” This is one of many calls to hear our prophetic voice in the bone-filled valleys of despair—the prophetic voice that calls for a life-giving response from individuals, faith communities, indeed governments and corporations.
And there are more valleys of dry bones demanding our attention. This week our Moderator, Rev. Elder Nancy Wilson, called us to be aware of the situation for gay, lesbian and transgender people in Uganda. She says:
At a time when many nations are recognizing that LGBT rights are human rights, Uganda is moving rapidly in the opposite direction. In a country where gay sex is already illegal, Uganda's Parliament has spent two years debating new anti-gay laws which, in various versions, would mandate the death penalty for gays and lesbians, require a sentence of life in prison for engaging in a gay sex act, and even imprison persons who fail to report to authorities if they overhear a conversation in which someone acknowledges they are gay.
It gets worse... Sadly, some Uganda church leaders are fueling the anti-LGBT frenzy. For example, Rev. Martin Ssempa, pastor of an evangelical church in Uganda's capital city, regularly hold anti-gay rallies at which he describes all gay people as pedophiles and deserving of imprisonment or death. He even shows hard-core pornography at churches and Christian conferences to fuel anti-gay sentiment. Think that's bad?
But it gets worse...A number of American fundamentalist churches -- including some mega-church pastors -- are sending funds to support anti-gay in Uganda! Horrified?
It gets still worse...The current anti-gay frenzy in Uganda has created a climate of threats, intimidation and violence against LGBT people. The situation has become so volatile that many human rights groups now describe the situation there as a "Gay Genocide."
But I am happy to tell you that the story does not end there: there is hope—there is God’s prophetic voice speaking through this very denomination and other organizations working to end some blatant discrimination and hatred before the valley of dry bones becomes full to over-flowing.
Rev. Elder Nancy reminds us that on January 26 of this year, David Kato, head of Sexual Minorities Uganda, murdered in his home in Mukono, Uganda. She also wants us to know that “MCC's Global Justice Institute organized David Kato's memorial service at New York City's historic Abyssinian Baptist Church and helped organize a major rally at the site of Uganda's mission to the United Nations. And MCC has partnered with his organization and Integrity to establish St. Paul's Reconciliation & Equality Center, which offers safe space to LGBT Ugandans. This Center meets a pressing need for Ugandans who live under the daily threat of anti-gay violence. For some, it is a safe space where they can experience a time of freedom from persecution. And for others, it offers temporary housing while awaiting asylum to other countries.” And for this reason and others, she calls us to be a part of the prophetic voice of MCC in the world, through our special Easter offering and our daily walk and work in our communities.
Our final reflection on this out-of-the-ordinary passage is to remind ourselves that our old pal Zeke did not do this miracle alone. Yes, he prophesied, he followed God’s orders, but God gave the breath, formed the glue that held the once dusty bones back together and poured the life, quite literally into them. He opened the space for God’s breath to come in. When we seek the will and want of God, we walk headlong into valley after valley of dry bones. We do it each time we open these doors to another person who wonders if this is the place where they will find a community of people just like them, broken and battered, yet aching for the renewing spirit of God. We do it each time we speak up and out and call for an end to injustice for our community and for likewise marginalized communities everywhere. And we do it every time, we say “this is not the way the story ends—in pain and hopelessness!” Every time we prophesy as God calls us: Let these dry bones live and dance and go forth to bring the breath of God into the world. Amen and amen!
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