EASTER 5B

Acts 8:26-40

1 John 4:7-21

John 15:1-8

The subject of all three lessons today is love, particularly Christian love, which seems most apt for Mother’s Day, which is coming up next week. The love of a mother for her child is directly related to, parallel to, God’s love for us.

This love serves; it puts the needs of the other first; it is a love that endures beyond bad behavior and difficult times; this love gives itself, even to death, to save the life of the other.

Nonetheless, Christian love is harder still. We think it natural that Mother’s love their children, but their children are just that — theirs! Christian love demands that we love other mother’s children – even other tribe’s children, other nation’s children. Maybe that doesn’t sound too bad. It’s easy to love little children, especially from a distance, but you know it doesn’t’ stop there. Little children have this habit of growing up!

It’s not so easy to love other grownups, especially the ones who are killing each other in places like Israel, or Syria, or Baltimore. Even though we know these parents are children too – someone’s children – certainly God’s children.

The story of Phillip and the eunuch illuminates this aspect of Christian love – being able to love someone who is wholly “other.” You may need some background to see just how radical Phillip’s behavior is in this story.

In the years after the Jews returned from Babylon, Jewish communities sprang up all over the Mediterranean world. The temple no longer existed and worship occurred in Synagogues. During this time Jews were actively seeking converts to Judaism. Such converts were called proselytes.

Proselytes accepted all Jewish practices including circumcision. It is perhaps no wonder the majority of proselytes were women. Many people from pagan cultures were drawn to the monotheism and the ethical precepts of Judaism. Those who studied and/or worshipped, but did not actually convert, were called God-fearers.

The Eunuch in our story was probably such a one. Eunuchs were men who had been neutered, much as we neuter our pets. They were usually slaves who served families of high estate or royalty. They were made eunuchs so that they could guard the women’s quarters and could serve the king without any thought of usurping the throne.

A eunuch could not convert to Judaism, even if he wanted to, because all impaired and defective people were excluded from the covenant congregation, nor could they worship in the temple of Jesus’s time. Deuteronomy is very specific about this. And people who were deformed or defective, not just eunuchs and lepers, but the blind, mute, club-footed, etc, whether from birth or by accident or illness were considered impure. A truly proper Jew would have nothing to do with them.

Yet we see no hesitation on Phillip’s part. The Eunuch was probably very dark skinned, as he came from Nubia, south of Egypt. He was a gentile or a pagan as well as a eunuch – and yet he was reading scripture. Still, what Phillip did was so outrageous that we’re told he did it because the Spirit told him to. Otherwise it would be impossible to explain his approaching this man.

Their conversation begins and Phillip shares the Good News with the eunuch as they journey down the road. Later, when they come to a stream, Phillip baptizes him.

Think what baptism might mean to someone who was considered “defective.” I suspect that the willingness of the early church to accept everyone who believed, accounted, in part, for its amazing growth and success. What must their inclusion in the Christian community have felt like for slaves, outcastes, beggars, tax collectors and prostitutes? It’s hard to even imagine for people like us who have almost always been “in” and seldom “out.”

If we did not have the book of Acts, we might think that the “Church” sprang up, full-grown, after the death of Jesus. We still have to remind ourselves that there were no clergy in the early church; there were no rules about baptism, there were no “authorized rites” for marriage, confession, ordination, and consecration. In fact, there were no bishops to maintain good order. The downside of rapid growth for the church was that it very quickly reverted to rules, to an established hierarchy, to excluding women and others from the leadership, not to mention an end to sharing everything!

Remember the church of our childhood? No communion until after baptism and confirmation! That usually meant that children went to church for 12 or more years without being able to participate in the feast! And we kept wondering why they left after confirmation!

When the issue of open communion first came up I remember that my opinion was changed by someone who said, “Would you invite your friends to Thanksgiving dinner and then tell the children they couldn’t eat because they didn’t understand Thanksgiving, but later on when they did, they could join in the meal?” How would that line sit with Jesus? Don’t we learn new things by participating in them too?

We are coming to see that baptism is not the same as a life-time membership in the Country Club. It is a response to the reality of God’s love for us. It is our way of saying “Yes!” to God. We want to follow your way.

Phillip had to put aside his early training, his prejudices, his distaste, his old attitudes, and his assumptions in order to include this foreign eunuch into the Christian community. He stepped up – to love some OTHER mother’s child and to include him in fellowship.

And so must we. And so must we.

AMEN

4th SUNDAY OF EASTER, B,

1 John 3:16-24

Today is sometimes called Good Shepherd Sunday, but this year I want to focus on the reading from the first letter of John as I did three years ago. The opening line echoes the Gospel reading this morning: “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.”

Then comes this haunting question: “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?”

I say haunting, because so many people in the world live on about $2 /day. And even in this great country, where we use so many of the world’s resources, the number of people going to bed hungry at night is shocking! And that number is still growing. What’s worse is that so many of them are children.

One of the problems with quoting facts and figures about people in need is that the problem just seems so overwhelming we’d like to forget it. So first remember that no one has to solve all the problems or even any one problem on a large scale. Think globally, but act locally. Do what you can for the people around you. And better yet, do it with them rather than for them.

Sara Miles wrote a book about her experiences in starting a food pantry at an Episcopal church in San Francisco. This pantry is free and open to anyone – no ID, no proof of income required. She set it up on and around the altar of the church and staffed it in the beginning with volunteers from the congregation. Soon the people who came to the pantry began to take over the volunteer jobs. This pantry went on once a week and was possible because there was a distribution place providing the food that also was staffed by volunteers.

The book is titled Take this Bread, making rather clear the connection in her mind between the pantry and communion. The pantry formed community in many strange and interesting ways. Sara Miles was an atheist for the first 46 years of her life, so it’s a fascinating read on many levels. She will be the key speaker at our Clergy Conference starting tomorrow, so I’m sure you’ll hear more about her.

Beyond thinking about doing good with people rather than for them, let’s also consider the purpose of our giving. I’m assuming that our purpose is a Christian one, rather than serving our own egos, but am looking beyond that. Do we give just to make up for the shortage that the other party has or are we giving to change the system that created their shortage in the first place?

Giving to make up their shortage is good, and its impact is immediate. The problem is that we probably have to go on giving for some length of time. You know the old saw, give a man a fish and he can feed his family today; give a man a pole and teach him how to fish and you feed his family forever.

This is what makes solar cookers, or micro loans, or giving animals more effective and more appealing than stocking a food shelf. And of course, if we think that solving the world hunger problem is overwhelming, can you imagine what it might take to change the systems, the governments, and the politics on the ground that created the hunger in the first place?

Jesus directly confronted the powers and systems of his day that kept the poor folks in their place, and we know what happened to him for his trouble. Still, I want to remind all of us that we have a weapon that was not available to Jesus. We have a vote, and we do not put ourselves at risk when we exercise this power. Whether we think of the School Board, the County Board, the City Council, the state legislature or the national elections, we have a voice in what happens here.

We have the chance to vote for those people whom we think will do the most good. Yes, but the most good for whom? For me? For my family? Or for the whole community, the whole state, or the whole nation?

Are we willing to give up some stuff, like a little more tax money, in order that others have a better chance? Do we only support those politicians who will make our lives easier, or do we support those who will consider all of society? Do we support what’s good for the schools only so long as we have children in school, or do we always support what’s good for the schools, because that makes a better community?

Yes, I know, Jesus said, “The poor will always be with us.”

And I’d say there will always be criminals, whether of the smash and grab sort or the Wall Street sort. However, I’m convinced that the numbers of both would be much less if the middle class were larger.

This week David and I went to a meeting with the director and two employees of an organization called “Ruby’s Pantry.” This is an outreach program of a 501C3 non-profit that distributes leftover food to rural communities from large corporations, which would otherwise have been throsn away.

Ruby’s Pantry is open one day a month, staffed entirely by volunteers. Anyone can come, and the people who come to the pantry pay $20 and will receive somewhere between $70 and &150 worth of food. Of the $20, $18 goes to the non-profit organization that collects and distributes the food, Ruby’s Pantry. The rest stays in the local community and is used for benevolence, as determined by the sponsoring church or non-profit.

We are exploring the possibility of bringing Ruby’s Pantry to I. Falls. It just so happened that the night after our meeting I stumbled upon a documentary on PBS about how much food is wasted – not just by individuals, or school lunches or restaurants, but by the food growers and the chain of companies that bring the food to market.

It was astonishing! It was shocking! I saw a truckload of perfectly healthy bananas thrown away because they did not meet the standards of the grocery chain being supplied – standards of appearance, not health or ripeness (they didn’t have the right curve to them!). Examples of celery, where so much is cut off right in the field, but cannot sell what’s cut off for the cost of the labor to pick it up and haul it away. Crops that are plowed under at least serve some purpose, but anyone who has checked out the dumpster at a local supermarket knows that large quantities are tossed.

This documentary made me realize that Ruby’s Pantry not only benefits the people who get their food, it benefits our society by making use of what would otherwise be wasted.

“How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” AMEN

Easter 3, B
Luke 24:36b-48

Do you know the work of Eric Carle? Don’t worry. He’s not some stiff, wordy theologian. Not that I know of, anyway. At least that’s not what he is known for. He’s known for children’s books with marvelous illustrations – the Grouchy Ladybug, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, and The Very Hungry Caterpillar, a perennial favorite in our home.

“In the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf.

One Sunday morning the warm sun came up and -pop- out of the egg came a tiny and very hungry caterpillar. He started to look for some food.

On Monday he ate through one apple, but he was still hungry.

On Tuesday he ate through two pears, but he was still hungry.

On Wednesday he ate through three plums but he was still hungry.

On Thursday he ate through 4 strawberries but he was still hungry.

On Friday he ate through 5 oranges but he was still hungry.”

The story moves on until the caterpillar eventually builds a cocoon and stays inside for more than two weeks. “Then one day he nibbled a hole in the cocoon and pushed his way out, and….. he was a beautiful butterfly.”

Into the darkness of the world a bright light was born. The Light was led into the wilderness, where the Light ate nothing for 40 days. The Light was very, very hungry.

One day, the Light sat down to a great banquet where He ate and drank with tax collectors and sinners (Luke 5:27-32). By his meal he taught tolerance and compassion for all. But He was still hungry.

Another day, the Light supped at Simon’s house with pharisees and a sinful woman (Luke 7:36-50). As He ate and talked he showed forgiveness and compassion. He turned social convention on its head. But He was still hungry.

Later, in a deserted place, the Light fed 5,000 hungry souls. Everyone ate of the 5 loaves and the two fish – twelve baskets were left over. His meal demonstrated the abundance of life in God. But He was still hungry. (Luke 9:10-17)

Later still, the Light ate food prepared by Martha, as Mary sat as His feet and listened to what He had to say. But He was still hungry (Luke 10:38-42)

On a quiet Thursday, the Light gave thanks, then broke bread with his friends saying, “Take. Eat.”

On Friday – the Light was taken away. The Light suffered and died and was wrapped in linens and placed in a dark tomb. The Light was quiet and the world was dark for 3 days.

And then the Light stood again within the world, shoulder to shoulder with His friends. And the Light was not a beautiful butterfly, and was not transformed, was not changed. The Light was the Light with His wounds and His scars and His flesh and His bones and His words of peace.

“Peace be with you” the Light said. “Shalom aleikhem.” Our translation of Shalom is inadequate, or perhaps our concept of peace is simply inadequate. Shalom is so much more than a greeting or an empty sentiment. It comes from a word root denoting wholeness, completeness. It means to convey a universal sense of well‑being, tranquility, prosperity, a state of blessed harmony, both physical and spiritual. Shalom aleikhem is a blessing, a manifestation of divine grace.

Shalom aleikhem. Ever and always He is about peace. Mmmm and food. Any food around here? He’s still hungry.

They give him some broiled fish. What else is there to do really? Your dear friend, your blessed teacher, the person you call Lord and Master comes back from torture and death and walks into your living room bringing blessings and peace. And He’s hungry. Have some fish.

He eats the fish, but He’s still hungry.

He opened their minds to understand the scriptures, “…repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.” You are witnesses of these things.

There’s an old traditional gospel preacher’s refrain used to invite a response from the congregation, “Can I get a witness?” says the preacher, and the people say “Amen”

The Light is still hungry. He is hungry for witnesses: witnesses to the truth, witnesses to the in-breaking of the Kingdom into this dark world. He is inviting the responses of the people who follow Him.

He has seen injustice, seen his Father’s laws twisted to separate and to hurt His people rather than unify and heal them. He has seen power run amok. He is, as one preacher says, “hungry for freedom, shalom and justice for all people – not some people, not most people, not lots of people. All people. Had he not made it clear that the hungry were to be fed? The naked clothed? The prisoner visited? The sick made well? The stranger … welcomed?” (Rev. Kirk Alan Kubicek, Sermons that Work) Can I get a witness? (Amen) (Ok. I know we are Episcopalians. We don’t exhort. We don’t proclaim. We don’t sit in the front pews, and we don’t so much as whisper a prayer in public without a prayer book in our hands….It’s Easter, it’s a time of transformation – give it a try!) Can I get a witness? AMEN!

This is Jesus. The same Jesus before and after the resurrection. The Jesus who promised to be present in the bread and the wine. The Jesus who challenged the authorities, challenged the Empire. Peace loving, child-blessing, sinner-loving, table-turning, radical Jesus. He is hungry still.

Are we happy to offer broiled fish? Or is He asking for something bigger – a manifestation of divine grace – can you hear Him?

Can I get someone to tell my story with their life and with their words?
Can I get someone to live the love I bring to the world?
Can I get someone to seek and serve me in all persons, loving neighbor as self?
Can I get someone to strive for justice and peace among all people, someone respect the dignity of every human being?
Can I get a witness? (AMEN)

To borrow the words of a very traditional gospel preacher, St. Augustine, “You are the Body of Christ. In you and through you the work of the incarnation must go forward. You are to be taken. You are to be blessed, broken, and distributed, that you may be the means of grace and the vehicles of eternal love.”

Can I get a witness?

Amen

Easter 2, B
John 20:19-31

There’s an extraordinarily popular psychological instrument based on the work of Carl Jung called the Myers Briggs Type Indicator. It’s used heavily in a variety of circumstances – from human resource decisions to team building to career advice to counseling. Through a series of questions, the test determines which of 16 personality types the testee best fits. Within each of 4 categories, the person is assigned to one of two polar characteristics.

Energy source: Do you recharge from contact with others or from time alone? This parameter is Extraversion (E) or Introversion (I)

Information: Do you tend to focus on the basic information you take in – Sensing (S) – or do you prefer to interpret and add meaning Intuition (N)?

Decisions: Do you prioritize logic and consistency in decision making – Thinking (T) – or concentrate on the people and special circumstances – Feeling (F)?

Structure: Do you prefer to get things firmly decided – Judging (J) – or to stay open to new information and options – Perceiving (P)?

2.5 million Americans per year take the test – 89 of the US Fortune 100 companies use it in some capacity for their employees or potential recruits. There is considerable controversy about the test’s validity regarding hiring, firing and promoting decisions, but the practical uses of the instrument have proven ever so much broader.

It turns out, you can use the Myers-Briggs (or a reasonable facsimile) to answer the truly critical questions of life. The test can actually determine which Disney Princess you would be – if you were a Disney princess. Not your cup of tea? It will tell you “your” animal, or what dessert best matches your personality. It tells you how you love, who you love, even what you most likely want for Christmas (in case you otherwise wouldn’t know, I guess – or perhaps you thought you knew, but it turns out you were wrong). There’s even a variant that tells you which saint you most resemble.

Today we’re talking about Thomas. Known through all of history as Doubting Thomas. We say (and by “we” I mean the collective judges of history, sitting comfortably here, gazing back with our 20/20 hindsight vision), we say doubting with a certain tone of dismissal, as if doubting was somehow a bad thing. I don’t believe that – I tend to share renowned preacher Frederick Buechner’s contention that “Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.” But that is a sermon for another day.

The thing I want to mention today, the thing that strikes me about Thomas, is that he is not so much a doubter, as he is an ESTP.

The ESTP personality, in brief, is described thus: They take a pragmatic approach focused on immediate results. Theories and conceptual explanations bore them – they want to act energetically to solve the problem. They focus on the here-and-now, are spontaneous. They learn best through doing.

We first meet Thomas when Lazarus lays dying. Jesus won’t go, won’t go, won’t go – then He says ok, let’s go. The other disciples point out the unpleasant reality that there are people trying to kill Jesus in that district – and by extension happy enough to kill anyone traveling with Him. Jesus proves persistent and Thomas spontaneously proposes the practical solution, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” (John 11:16).

Thomas demonstrates his preference for practical reality over abstract albeit poetic theory in John 14:5. Jesus says, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling-places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.’” Ever the practical realist, Thomas replies, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?”

As Christians in this post-modern world we live in an interesting dichotomy. Our cultural concept of reality is governed by skepticism and facts and science and proofs. Yet, we hold to a faith not subject to proofs. Within that milieu, as theologian Stanley Hauerwas writes, “Christians are often tempted to say more than we know. We are so tempted because we fear we do not believe what we say we believe. So we try to assure ourselves that we believe what we say we believe by convincing those who do not believe that they really believe what we believe once what we believe is properly explained.”

I am not necessarily a realist (we won’t get into my 4 initial personality type), but I function for the most part subject to a worldview governed by limitations – limitations of science, of economy, of scarcity, of human failing – and am tempted daily to call those limitations “reality”.

Into that world walks Thomas – just over a week after reality hit the disciples with the blunt, brutal finality of death itself. Jesus, vividly, blessedly, beautifully alive comes to him. His words are peaceful; His wounds are bared; His mangled hands are outstretched, open – welcoming Thomas as he is, open to Thomas’s disbelief, his need to experience…

Jesus comes to Thomas – not to change him. Thomas remains committed to acting promptly and courageously on what he perceives. What changes is Thomas’s perception of reality itself. Of what is possible. Of what God can do. Even of what God can do through him. Jesus confronts him [Thomas] with the possibility that his reality was too small, his vision of “possible” too limited. When Jesus calls him to faith, He’s actually inviting him to enter into a whole new world. (Paraphrased from David Lose, In the Meantime)

We are Easter people – invited by the risen Lord to look at the world, interact with the world from the perspective of the Resurrection. Jesus’s resurrection. Our own resurrection – resurrected from a limited reality to a world (as David Lose describes) not defined by failure but possibility, not governed by scarcity but by abundance, not ruled by remembered offenses but set free by forgiveness and reconciliation. We can hide in the reality bounded in limitations we have set for ourselves – or we can live into the invitation Christ offers. Live our doubts, live our questions, live our faith, live His love, live abundantly in Him.

Alleluia, Christ is Risen!

EASTER B

Isaiah 25:6-9

Acts 10:34-43

Mark 16:1-8

Alleluia, Christ is risen!

[The Lord is risen indeed,
Alleluia!]

For over 2000 years this has been the greeting that Christians share with one another on Easter. I’ve attended churches where they not only use this greeting in the liturgy, but where everyone greets one another this way on this special day.

For 2000 years – isn’t it amazing? I’m not sure about the translations that have occurred during that time, but it strikes me as highly significant that this is stated in the present tense: Christ is risen, not Christ has risen. Use of the present tense always makes things more immediate, but it also conveys the sense of something happening now, so that Christ is always risen. This is not just something that happened once in the past. Let me try to explain what I mean by that.

If you look closely at the reading we heard from Isaiah today, you will find a definition of salvation. First Isaiah paints a picture of a great feast on the mountain. Note that unlike most religions of the time, God feeds his people, much like he did during the Exodus, not the other way around. We don’t bring food offerings to God; rather, God feeds us.

Isaiah promises that God will destroy the shroud hanging over all nations, meaning all people, not just the Jews, but everyone, everywhere. God will swallow up death forever, wipe away the tears of the people, and remove their disgrace. “Let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” The promise to remove their disgrace means to me a promise of forgiveness, a promise of grace, a promise of transformation. And the feast is clearly a celebration, a party, and an image of rich and joyful life.

In the reading from Acts we are reminded that one of the most astonishing things Jesus did after the resurrection was to eat and drink with people, as he had done so often in life. The image of people gathered around the table with food and wine is not just an image that forms the basis of our communion ritual, but also acts as a metaphor for Christian life. That is life abundant, life lived in community, and life lived in peace and good will, not to mention life filled with laughter and good times together.

So, I have come to think of the death and resurrection of Jesus as a metaphor for transformation – from old life to new life, not only applicable to the time of our own death, but more importantly to our present life. Christ IS risen. We can also rise to new life in this life.

Think of people you know who have survived cancer or other life-threatening situations. Think of those who have conquered addiction. Think of those who have endured the death of a child or other loved ones or those who have endured a divorce and come through the valley of the shadow of death to a new life. It’s still their life, probably not perfect, but their perspective and maybe their response to it is forever changed.

This helps to explain our ritual of communion. Critics have said that we worship death, but that is not accurate. Death is part of life and even metaphorically it is always part of resurrection. New life always requires letting go of something or someone in our old life. This may be difficult and/or painful, but it is necessary for new life to bloom and grow.

So every week we remember the death and resurrection of Jesus in our celebration of the Eucharist. It should remind us each week of Isaiah’s promise of salvation in a great feast. It should remind us of the saving of the Jews from Pharaoh. It pointedly reminds us of Jesus’s death and resurrection.

What it also promises us is the ever-present possibility of new life in the present, no matter what our circumstances. Christ IS risen, and we may become Easter people too. We can live resurrected lives here and now. We can choose to forgive, we can cultivate peace, we can look at everyone who crosses our path as a brother or sister, we can choose to serve others, and we can give more dinner parties!

On Thursday night Sam preached, “The question at the Eucharist is not ‘Is Jesus present?’ The question is, ‘Are we present?’”

I think that when we are present, we can offer ourselves to God – and face it, that’s a far cry from offering a perfect animal. Instead we offer ourselves in all our brokenness.

When we come to the table fully present, we can offer up our petty grudges our mistakes, our quarrels, our jealousy, our failure, and our doubts – whatever gets in the way of living life to the fullest. And then we leave them there on the table and go forth renewed, forgiven, resurrected.

Alleluia, Christ is risen!

[The Lord is risen indeed,
Alleluia!]

AMEN

Maundy Thursday, Year B
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13: 1-17, 31b-35

The cry and hue of Jesus’s entry to Jerusalem have died away. The palms, quickly forgotten, have pressed into the dust and muck, trampled under hundreds of sandaled feet, dropped into the road even as the last strains of Hosanna die away. The crowds have not yet amassed for the contrived trial and brutal execution of Jesus. For now it is Thursday. Just….Thursday.

Jesus was about to die. We know that – the 20/20 hindsight view of history tells us. The disciples…they knew he was doing bold, exciting, dangerous things. But he kept getting away with it. He was the messiah. He had to live, to lead the revolution, to free them as the slaves were freed from Egypt so many years before. Simply put, they were still in denial, (with the possible exception of Judas). Jesus knew he was going to die. That he had to die. That knowledge can be attributed to divinity or to simple common sense: one simply could not do the things that he was doing and expect the Roman or the Jewish leaders to allow it to continue. Jesus could not stop speaking truth and compassion; He would not back away from justice and love – and the powers that be would not allow it to continue. So He was going to die. And die soon.

These are His last moments of calm; of peace; of communion with his friends, and He knew it. One prison chaplain describes his experience with prisoners scheduled for execution. Often they would labor days and hours over their final words to their loved ones. “Every word, every act that would comprise their farewells was pregnant with meaning and significance, love an consolation, even hope and expectation.” (Guy Nave, Feasting on the Word). Most of us do not know the hour of death. Jesus did. He spent his last living, breathing, peaceful moments breaking bread with the man who will betray him (as well as with his friends) and washing feet.

John is the only one of the Gospels which describes this foot washing scene. It’s an interesting thing about foot washing. We talk about Jesus’s example of service, of humility, of love in this humble act. And so it was. Feet are a stinky enough proposition in this day and age – ever so much worse in Jesus’s time. The sanitation system in 1st century Jerusalem consisted of dumping such waste as the household had created, all manner of waste, out the window, or the door, or down the street. Wellies had not been invented – one trudged through the glop in one’s sandals. It was customary to provide the means for foot washing as a host. One provided a towel, water and a bowl. One did not offer to undertake the job. Even a male Hebrew slave could not be asked to undertake that distasteful task. Yet Jesus did not shirk from it – insisted rather setting an example of service, of humility.

But here is the interesting bit. I’ve done this a few years now. The hard part is not getting someone willing to wash feet. The hard part is getting someone to agree to have their feet washed. We do not like it.

I read one story about a parish that was going to give foot washing a try. The church secretary set out to get 12 people willing to sit and have their feet washed. The first six calls yielded 6 refusals. A dozen phone calls later, they finally settled for 3 washees, grudgingly willing to submit. When the night arrived and they sat dutifully and uncomfortably in front of the congregation, naked feet before them, 2 of them had fresh pedicures – glossy bright toenail polish shining through, the third had his Gold stripe socks freshly pressed, neatly folded and the smell of freshly applied Febreeze wafting from his shoes. We are Peter – you will not wash my feet! Aside from the intractable issue of pantyhose, part of it is embarrassment about the feet themselves. As we get older we look down at those boney, veiny, calloused misshapen things and wonder how they got to the ends of our ankles.

Part of it, the bigger part, I think – is that sense of vulnerability. To allow someone to hold and wash and care for the things about ourselves that are least desirable, least presentable, is an unnerving, even frightening prospect. As one commentator said, “To allow Jesus to cleanse our feet is to remove all that prevents us from using our feet to follow him. To scrub away our insecurities, to wash away our weariness, to buff off our bitterness.” (Alyce MacKenzie, Patheos)

Jesus did not just offer to wash their feet – he insisted upon it. The time for sermons and parables and words had ended. The lesson he would teach that night as he shared bread and wine with the man who would betray him; as he washed away the grime and filth from the feet of the man who initiated his death sentence, that lesson must be experienced, must be tasted, must be lived. To be with Jesus we must accept vulnerability, accept intimacy; accept that we are loved and cared for despite the corns and callouses on our spirits. We must drink that cup of love and forgiveness, then do as He has done for us.

In tonight’s liturgy, 2000 years later, we share with Jesus his last quiet moments before his friend betrayed him. We share his last meal. We wash the dust of the day from each other’s feet. We pray together. In the end, we will strip the altar and feel the emptiness. Then we will go home to our ordinary Thursdays. Will we wait to see the joy of Easter as spectators? Or will we live the transformation of an intimate connection with Jesus?

As one friend said, “The question at the Eucharist is not, “is Jesus present?” All Christian groups say yes to that reality in one form or another. The question is, “Are we present?” Are we willing to become what we place on the altar?–a sign of Christ’s love to this sinful and broken world. Don’t just come to Maundy Thursday services. Place your life on the altar.” (Rev. Stephen B. Smith, personal communication). Amen.

Lent 5, Year B

Hebrew 5:5-10
John 12:20-33

O Little Town of Bethlehem. Not a title you expect to hear this time of year – not with snow melting, birds singing, robins arriving, not to mention Good Friday looming. I mention the title because the name Phillips Brooks means nothing to most of us without it. He wrote it, you see. That’s his main lasting claim to fame for most of us. Not just a lyricist, Phillips Brooks was a priest, and eventually the Bishop of MA. He was instrumental in the design of Trinity Church – a large episcopal church in Copley Square in Boston. The sanctuary there is massive and open, with vast areas of gold and stained glass interplaying their colors across layers of visual space. Into this huge open area, full of sculpture and glass and art and architectural nuance, Brooks introduced one additional detail. On the inside of the pulpit, seen by no one except the preacher, he had engraved the words “Sir, we would see Jesus”

This echo of the Greeks’ request in today’s lection reverberates still in our own spiritual experience – I wish to see Jesus. I wish to know Jesus. I wish to encounter Jesus. Who is this Jesus guy, anyway?

According to the Epistle, Jesus is “a priest according to the order of Melchizedek” Mmm, that certainly clears things up. “Melchizedek” – the name sounds like a Disney character – some sort of cute rodent with a mustache and a goofy accent, perhaps. He was, however, a fairly shrouded, mysterious character. Melchizedek is said in Jewish belief to have no mother, no father – no lineage. He is mentioned only twice in the Jewish scriptures. In the 14 chapter of Genesis, after a particularly bloody battle in which Abram and his allies were victorious, the text says, “And King Melchizedek of Salem brought our bread and wine; he was priest of God Most High. He blessed him and said, ‘Blessed be Abram by God Most High, maker of heaven and earth; and blessed be God Most High who has delivered your enemies into your hand! And Abram gave him one-tenth of everything.”

Later in Psalm 110 the psalmist writes,
The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, ‘You are a priest for ever according to the order of Melchizedek.’

Literally, the name means “King of Righteousness.” The Genesis text identifies him as the King of Salem – Salem means “peace” – a priest of God Most High.

King of Righteousness, of Peace, Priest of God most High – the comparison may be more helpful than it seemed at first glance – giving us a description. But the lofty image of Jewish High Priest with the flowing robes and the rituals and the sacrificial attitude is a bit jarring for our image of Jesus. More telling is what Jesus does. “Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears.”

As one commentator notes, “Here is a priest not lifting a lamb or dove, or bread and wine or even an atonement for sin. Into the presence of God this priest offers weeping and screaming in the lifting up of prayers…”

“This text’s vision suggests both consolation and calling. All who have reason for tears and loud cries are addressed – mourners, the war-ravaged, the poor, the terrified, the oppressed, those who are too much alone. Their tears, cries and clenched silences are gathered into a groaning divine cry, ceaselessly rising, painfully lifting the suffering world toward hope of transformation.” (Paul Simpson Duke, Feasting on The Word). The commentator goes on to say, “The vocation of the church, in large measure, is to hear and to join in that cry.”

Phillips Brooks, an accomplished and powerful preacher, knew that every preacher needs to strive not just to provide information about Jesus, theology about Jesus, context to lessons, but to facilitate an experience of Jesus, every sermon, every homily, every service. In a world of spiritual, but not religious; in a world of entitlement and individualism; in a world of moral apathy, the need to see Jesus, to have the Word of God inscribed upon our hearts extends beyond our doors.

Linnaea asked me yesterday as I was writing the sermon, “Can it be about me this time Mumma? I like it when it is about me.” We gather together for consolation, and for nourishment. We are nourished by the scripture, by the spiritual food we take together, by connection with the body of Christ. It is about us. We are asked to go forth, fortified and fed, loved and comforted, hearts changed – to be for all the world the face of Christ, the hands of Christ, the feet of Christ. It is about all the world.

Do the people outside these walls see Jesus within us? Do they see the healer, the prophet, the servant, the champion of justice, the supplicant? May the Christ within us shine ever outward.

Lent 4, Year B
Numbers 21:4-9
John 3:14-21

There are over 2,900 species of snakes ranging as far northward as the Arctic Circle in Scandinavia and southward through Australia.Snakes can be found on every continent except Antarctica. They are found in the sea, and as high as 16,000 feet (4,900 m) in the Himalayan Mountains of Asia. They play crucial roles in our ecosystems. They largely prey on rodents and other animals we would consider “pests”, keeping those populations in check. They are an important food source to larger carnivores. Have I made you love them yet?

Ophidiophobia. The irrational fear of snakes. 36% of adults rank fear of snakes as their #1 fear. But is it still ophidiophobia if the snakes really are out to get you?

The Israelites are not having a good day. We are in the middle of Lent – a 40 day journey into self examination. The poor Israelites were in the middle of their 40 year journey – except that they had no idea when their journey would end. This is the last of what is called a “murmuring” story. I love that term. It sounds so very genteel and muted. Really, they are grumbling stories, complaining stories, bitching and moaning stories: There’s no water, no food and the food that we don’t have is horrible. Maybe pharoah wasn’t so bad after all. Then come the snakes. Biting and killing and being snakey all over the place.

They turn back to Moses and to God. And this is the interesting bit – God doesn’t take the snakes away. Why doesn’t God take the snakes away? Instead God prescribes this elaborate plan that the affected person should look up at this super-snake on a stick. If the snakes were punishment, why, once the people repented, why not just take the wiley, wriggly beasts away?

Unless the snakes are not a punishment, now complete, but rather a gift, a revelation – a painfully palpable representation of the snakiness within – that slippery something within each person and within the community of all people that is hurtful.

“Sometimes it really is sin that we commit, and hurt we inflict – intentionally or not, on others, on other forms of life, on the life of Earth itself – all the stuff about our ways of acting and living that we don’t like to look at. And sometimes it’s other kinds of hurt we carry inside us – fears and anxieties, addictions and brokenness, ways we beat ourselves up and feel beat up by others – feelings of inadequacy and anxiety that are like toxin in our psyche and poison our lives from the inside.” Brian Donst

They were saved by looking up, away from the wriggling, insidious objects of their fears; away from self towards the promise God offered. It would be so much simpler if God simply took the dark, snakey things away, created a world that was soft and cuddly and warm and painless and bright. But that is not the promise God makes. “Rather the world inevitably and inescapably is an amalgam of what seems to us light and dark, good and evil, comforting and distressing, and the way of God and of God’s people is to live creatively and compassionately in the face of it.”

Nicodemus was not having a great day either. His didn’t involve snakes, but it was confusing. Nicodemus, a Pharisee, a leader of the Jews, felt compelled to sneak under cover of darkness to see unconventional, rebellious, blasphemous Jesus. For his trouble Jesus tells him impossible stories of spirit and wind and water and being born again. And again that serpent story “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up”

Something you should know about that super snake on a stick. Later in Hebrew history, much later, after they had reached the promised land, had an established land and place, that very same symbol was destroyed by King Hezekiah because the people began to attribute Godhood to the object itself. That very staff intended to lift people’s hearts to God as they lifted their eyes to the staff, became an idol.

The same thing can happen with words. John 3:16. It is one of the most widely known bible verses ever, largely due to popular culture. When popular football player Tim Tebow marked John 3:16 into his eye-blacking during a spectacular game, John 3:16 became the most Googled bible verse ever. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” It is talking about nothing less than salvation. When we take it out of context, when we use it only as a touchstone of reassurance, when we transform it from a promise of relationship to a formula for immortality, it becomes treacherous. This explicit invitation into God’s grace can become instead a stick we use to beat others about the head and shoulders about whether or not they meet the criteria for salvation; or a mantra we repeat like a magic incantation to reassure ourselves that we are safe – the snakes of sin have been eliminated for us so long as we repeat the right words over and over. While it gives us a certain reassurance, it is, as Dietrich Bonhoffer describes, a “cheap grace”. Salvation in our own minds, that need never touch our hearts.

“Salvation”, said Frederick Buechner, “Salvation is an experience first and a doctrine second. Doing the work you’re best at doing and like to do best, hearing great music, having great fun, seeing something very beautiful, weeping at somebody else’s tragedy—all these experiences are related to the experience of salvation because in all of them two things happen. (1) you lose yourself, and (2) you find that you are more fully yourself than usual.”

God invites us into relationship, saves us from the snakes within, by gathering us closer to God, lifting our hearts and minds to God. The super- snake on a stick, the words of Jesus; ultimately the cross and the resurrection – everything points back to relationship, to transformation.

“The promise in this life is not that God will make the dark go away, but that the dark will not ever completely extinguish nor overcome the light that God gives. The promise is that no matter what may befall, there shall always be room carved out by God and power given by God for love – the fundamental power of the whole cosmos, still to be known and shared” Brian Donst, personal communication, Midrash

Lent 3, B
John 2:13-22

Today, we give thanks for microphones, and the technology that makes them work. (note: preacher that day had laryngitis) So much technology today. The internet is the most extraordinary invention. You can find anything, everything and nothing all with the same search. It makes no promise of truth, but promises hundreds of answers. If you don’t like one answer, then with the click of a button you scroll down to find one more to your liking. If you find yourself less than satisfied with the sermon on any given Sunday (I know that is hard to believe, but bear with me)… If you find yourself less than satisfied with the sermon on any given Sunday, a visit to Google will provide you a vast array of alternative sermons, based on the lectionary for the week. If, however, you go in search of an alternative sermon this week, 8 sermons out of 10 will be based on the Exodus reading; one will be based on the Epistle, and a lonely single offering will be based on the Gospel lesson.

“I solemnly declare that I do believe the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be the Word of God…” This is one declaration every person ordained to holy orders makes. It is part of the ordination to the diaconate and to the priesthood, and it is not phrased in a yes/no sort of format. You cannot mumble your way through it. The sort of lesson we heard today (along with a hefty proportion of the Old Testament) is the sort of scripture that gives one pause before making this bold declaration; well, gave me pause. Today’s gospel is the sort of scripture that inspires people to preach about the 10 commandments instead. Because, on the face of it, this is just not the way we want to think of Jesus. This is not Jesus meek and mild. This is not Jesus champion of justice and befriender of the down-trodden. This is Jesus the supremely cranky and irrationally violent. Not our favorite Godly image…

Oddly, it has become on of my favorite sorts of lessons – the sort that you need to essentially have a conversation with the text in order to understand where the Good News lies.

In this case, note that this event is described in all 4 Gospel accounts, but the Gospel of John describes it differently than any of the others. Understand that all of the Gospels are written as confessions of faith, not as historical recordings. Far from exposing faults, discrepancies between them serve to communicate a different message.

In the synoptic Gospels, the cleansing of the temple leads to Jesus’s trial and execution. It is the last straw for the authorities. In John, Jesus is just getting started when he takes out after the money changes with his whip. This happens right at the beginning of Jesus’s ministry, immediately after the wedding at Cana. This is Jesus’s impassioned declaration of who He is, what He is about.

In the synoptic Gospels, Jesus accuses the merchants of malfeasance, dishonest – you “den of robbers”. That is a cause we can pick up on, back His unbridled rage at defrauding the vulnerable among them. In John, however, He makes no such accusation. “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.”

In today’s church, we would certainly be horrified to find people in the lobby, effectively selling admission tickets. While we might not start knotting whips, we would certainly be, in true Episcopal fashion, a bit perturbed. But Jesus was not an Episcopalian. Jesus was a devout Jew – a Jew in the temple – a temple based on a sacrificial system instituted long before the temple itself. To gain access to the temple, the dwelling place of God, required certain well delineated sacrifices, generally of the unblemished variety. One simply could not travel across rough country maintaining an unblemished flock. In order to offer an unblemished sacrifice, you must sell your livestock and buy new, unblemished animals on site. There is a catch. You sell your goods for Roman coin, but you cannot buy new animals with Roman coin. Roman coin has a face on it – the face of the Emperor – making it unacceptable for payment for a sacrifice to Yahweh. You have to exchange your Roman coin for temple coin, with which the new animals are purchased. Moneychangers, dove sellers, animal merchants – they were doing the jobs they needed to do to keep the system working. Jesus’s actions do not right a moral wrong, they announce a new way to relate to God entirely, a way independent of the temple and its convoluted, sacrificial system. Jesus passionately, vehemently, even violently proclaims to all who are present, and all to follow, that God is not to be placed in a box; a box you access when your i’s are dotted and your t’s are crossed and the time is right.

People today could learn much the same lesson. We come to our box, our temple, to access God, to talk to God, to worship God, when the time is right, if it is convenient. Worship, community of faith, the nourishment of sacrament is a good and joyful and sometimes a truly necessary thing. But what if we thoughtfully shift (as scholar David Lose suggests) from considering church “a place we go to for some experience of God, …(to imagining church as) a place we’re sent from in order to meet, and partner with, God in everyday life.”

Barbara Brown Taylor describes it this way “People encounter God under shady oak trees, on riverbanks, at the tops of mountains, and in long stretches of barren wilderness. God shows up in whirlwinds, starry skies, burning bushes, and perfect strangers. When people want to know more about God, the son of God tells them to pay attention to the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, to women kneading bread and workers lining up for their pay. Whoever wrote this stuff believed that people could learn as much about the ways of God from paying attention to the world as they could from paying attention to scripture…. People can learn as much about the ways of God from business deals gone bad or sparrows falling to the ground as they can from reciting the books of the Bible in order. They can learn as much from a love affair or a wildflower as they can from knowing the Ten Commandments by heart.” (Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar on the World)

“Whoever you are, you are human. Wherever you are, you live in the world, which is just waiting for you to notice the holiness in it.” (Barbara Brown Taylor)

When we let ourselves find God outside the box; when we open our eyes to the holiness in all God’s creation; when we recognize that all the earth is sacred ground; when we understand that ALL God’s people are blessed; we change the way we think; we change the way we see; we change the way we live. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Lent 2, B
Mark 8:31-38

Have you heard about the dress? It’s this odd internet phenomenon – there’s a picture of a dress circulating. It’s a perfectly ordinary looking dress, but talk shows are discussing it, news segments have been dedicated to it, family feuds have erupted over it and heaven knows how many bytes of information have been dedicated to the question – What color is this dress? To some it is very clearly, inarguably gold and white. To others, looking at the same picture at the same time, the dress is just as clearly black and blue – the same picture.

“You are the messiah” said Peter, in our lesson last week.
“Jesus is the Christ” we confess on a weekly, if not more frequent basis.

We say the same thing. What do we really mean?

Some say Jesus was simply a man, a good one. A teacher, compassionate and kind. This is a non-committal approach – recognition of “goodness” without any requirements.

Some view Jesus as the gatekeeper, the judge that will open the gates of heaven for them in the end times, or not. This is a guilt/fear based approach – a way of taking some form of control in a frightening world.

Some see Jesus as an insurance policy against their sins – always forgiving, there to save us from ourselves, save us from evil. This, like any other approach, can have merit. We could do far worse than holding an example of un-ending love and forgiveness always before us. But this perception also can encourage license to do what we will, when we will – secure in the knowledge of forgiveness.

What color is the dress?

Peter blurted out the truth as he knew it. You are the Messiah! For a first century Jew that meant the one who would break the yoke of Roman control on Judaism. The mighty conquerer. The one who would restore Israel to all her former glory. Peter and the other disciples pinned all their hopes on Jesus to be the one who led that charge. Peter was so convinced of this reality that he rebuked Jesus when Jesus tried to tell him that life was going to take on a very different color that what Peter had in mind. Peter tried to fit Jesus into the mold Peter preferred. Jesus tried to reshape Peter’s thinking into a Jesus mindset. Jesus’s formulary is simple – but counter-intuitive if salvation is what we seek.

Deny yourself
Take up your cross
Follow me

Jesus doesn’t describe himself – he doesn’t care what color the dress is. He shows us who he is, how to follow, how to be, how to love. He shows us who He is. It is not something we always want to see.

“The truth about who God is contradicts what we expect on the basis of our own feelings about divinity. The truth is that God’s mercy is given to sinners, not reserved for the righteous; Gods’s strength is exposed in weakness, not displayed in power; God’s wisdom is veiled in parable and paradox, not set out in self-help maxims; God’s life is disclosed in death.” (Joseph Small, Feasting on the Word)

To follow God, to follow Jesus is not a matter of saying the right words, going to services – those are good things. They are tools to help us serve God and each other. As Alice Walker said, “Anybody can observe the Sabbath. It takes the rest of the week to make it holy.”

Kayla Mueller was was an American prisoner held by ISIS, and died in captivity. She went to Syria as an aid worker helping innocent victims of the Syrian civil war. In a 2013 address to the Kiwanis Club in her hometown of Prescott, Arizona as reported by Prescott’s Daily Courier newspaper, she said, “For as long as I live, I will not let this suffering be normal. (I will not let this be) something we just accept.” That mindset led the young woman to put herself in danger and to serve on God’s behalf. She gave of herself to change the world.

We are fortunate. We live in a society where we can pray and eat and dress as we would choose (for the most part). In general we know where our next meal is coming from and do not suffer the threat of violence on a day to day basis. Many of our brothers and sisters cannot say the same.

We have daily opportunities to give ourselves in the service of love, compassion, justice, peace. You had a chance last week to serve a wonderful soup supper to benefit the hungry. You had a chance last week to stop some ugly gossip, or to call your congressperson about an unjust practice. You had a chance to pray, when you might have preferred a good mystery novel. You had a chance to lend a listening ear, or to hold an angry tongue. You had a chance to turn off the TV of an evening and call someone who would otherwise be lonely. You will have those chances again. It may mean giving up status, or wealth, or time, or security, or more. Jesus does not promise us easy, he promises us life.

As we ask ourselves during this 40 day Lenten journey what it means to be Christian, may God grant us the strength and courage to deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow Christ in our daily lives.

Thanks be to God.

Thanks to Pam Laing (Midrash, personal communication) for her insights on which many of the thoughts here are based.