TRINITY C

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

John 16:12-15

I love today’s lesson from Proverbs. “Does not wisdom call, and does not understanding raise her voice?” As in other parts of the Old Testament, Wisdom is here personified as a woman. Then immediately she is placed in a concrete world – beside the gates in front of the town, crying out to those who pass by.

But it is her claims that are the most interesting. The Lord created me at the beginning of his work. . . Before God created the universe, he created wisdom/understanding/reason. “Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth.” It makes a certain kind of sense, doesn’t it? God needed wisdom to create such a complex and fascinating world. And what is the final act of wisdom? She was the daily delight of the Lord, “rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race.”

This insistence on her connection with the created world caught my attention, not to mention her tone of joy. What does this have to do with Trinity Sunday?

In trying to make some connection, I’m not going to talk about Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Instead I’m going to talk again about Richard Hooker’s three legged stool. That was his metaphor for where the Anglican Church looks for its authority.

Whether rectangular or triangular, the seat holds the three legs in proper order. The legs cannot exist as legs apart from the seat. One leg represents Scripture; one represents Tradition; one represents Reason (or Wisdom). If the legs are not exactly the same length the stool will be crooked or fall over.

Just so, a church that puts too much emphasis on the Bible alone, or reason alone, or tradition alone will be out of balance. They need to carry the same weight, to work together to keep the stool even. They must stay in the same equal relationship to one another. You can see how this metaphor might also apply to the Holy Trinity.

I’ve mentioned before that the ministry team, while we were studying, wanted to add another leg called experience. This week, as I was mulling all this over, I realized that the seat of the stool is what represents experience. The seat is where the rubber meets the road, so to speak. This is where the real world and the abstract world meet. It’s sitting on the stool that proves whether it’s in balance or not!

We can’t understand scripture, tradition, or reason apart from our own experience of the world. It’s the lens through which we see things around us. That’s why we understand them differently today than they were understood a thousand years ago. We live in a different world with different understandings and a great deal more knowledge that did the Christians in 1000 AD.

There’s nothing wrong with re-interpreting scripture, tradition and reason in this way. In fact, if we don’t, it becomes useless, an empty form that no longer carries any meaning.

Most folks assume that Scripture is the primary leg – or the first among equals, but I’d suggest, after reading today’s lesson that that place belongs to reason. Reason predates creation, whereas Scripture and Tradition came later. Also God created Reason, whereas scripture and tradition come from the hands and minds of men.

It is reason, or wisdom, and our church’s insistence on using it that allows us to include all fields of study in our attempts to understand God. It is the use of reason, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit that makes it possible to reinterpret scripture in the light of new knowledge.

For a simple example, Scripture accepts slavery as normal and slaves are told to make the best of their lives where they are. We no longer believe slavery is OK. We understand those parts of Scripture that accept slavery as representing what the people of that time held to be true, but not something that we have to follow today.

The role of tradition is to slow down this process of change, to keep us from running after current fads, to test the new understandings against the best minds of the past and the present. I believe this is a good thing, even though I often grumble about it taking sooooo long for change to happen in the church.

The problem is that humans like tradition and do not like change, so we cling to tradition much longer than is necessary, and we often do it without conscious thought about it. Simple example – we continued to build churches in the 20th Century with railings around the altar to keep out the pigs and goats and chickens that used to wander into the churches a thousand years ago.

The balance required of the three legs of the stool mirrors the relationship of the Trinity. In each triad, any one cannot do all the work alone. Look at today’s Gospel. Jesus is speaking and passes on some of the work to the Spirit of truth, who will come and will speak on behalf of Jesus. “He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”

In a few sentences the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are all referenced and shown to be deeply related, inseparable, really. No one of them can do the work alone.

What struck me most about this is that they are a community into which we are welcomed as members. The Spirit of truth will guide us into all the truth which comes from all three.

We aren’t in this alone, and neither is God, or Jesus, or the Holy Spirit. We’re all in it together. Now I have friends who consider themselves Christian, but do not worship with other Christians. I don’t say this to them, but I don’t know how you can BE a Christian outside of a worshipping community. Christian religion is not just a matter between God and me. It involves a community that includes Jesus, the Holy Spirit, other people with whom we worship, and the whole cloud of witnesses who have gone before us.

Have you ever stood in church and thought about all the other people who are standing in churches around the world doing the same thing? Or of all the people who have stood in these same pews in years gone by? We are not alone in this life. God is not alone either. Isn’t that the whole point of creation? Let us rejoice and be glad. AMEN

Sunday after Ascension

Acts 1:1-11

Luke 24:44-53

Blessings be upon you this Ascension Sunday. (You thought I was going to say Mother’s Day, didn’t you? Well, many blessings for Mother’s Day as well) You thought I was going to say Mother’s Day because you’ve actually heard of that, but maybe not so much of Ascension Sunday. And, of course, it isn’t Ascension Sunday at all. It’s Ascension Thursday. The Day of Ascension is always on a Thursday. We celebrate it on Sunday because if we celebrated it on Thursday we would never really celebrate it all, because who is going to come celebrate a holy day they may or may not have heard of; may or may not be able to explain; most likely have no memories of, fond or otherwise; and for which they most certainly cannot find an appropriate Hallmark card.

There are those who think, some of them right here among us, living, working, and praying right alongside everybody else, those who think that accidentally overlooking the Day of Ascension might not be an entirely bad thing.

It seems a bit…anachronistic in this day and age of space exploration and jet travel, a bit ridiculous really, this picture of Jesus hoisted up by the seat of his robes, sandals dangling, floating off into a cloud like a first century Lorax, disappearing into the stratosphere. We say it every week “On the third day he rose again, ascended into heaven” We say it, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that we are comfortable faced with actually thinking about it.

Our discomfort notwithstanding, the author of Luke felt the Ascension was important enough not only to serve as the final note for his entire Gospel account, but also sufficiently crucial to reprise the event as he began his next book – the book of Acts. The Book of Acts, as we have read today, begins with a sort of “Previously on Sacred Writings according to Luke” reprise of the Ascension. Out of Luke’s entire Gospel – Jesus’s birth, life, teachings, suffering, dying, rising – this one event was the only one the author of Luke felt it was necessary to repeat to introduce a second book – this was the one piece we really had to have firmly in our hearts in order to hear what else he had to say.

I think the key to why, why he had to repeat this, why he needed to make very sure we truly heard this story lies in that last little bit, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”

I think if I were a man of Galilee, I might be a bit nonplussed with that question – even a bit miffed. Why? Well – Jesus died once, breaking my heart, dashing my hopes. He stayed dead just a few days, then came back eating bread and fish, offering blessings and prayers and wisdom for the next 40 days. Why am I standing there looking at the heavens? How exactly should one behave when a no-longer-dead-maybe-Messiah-oh-I-so-hope-he-is-Messiah visibly disappears into the cloud cover? I would think one could be forgiven a moment or two of gawking.

Just a moment or two suggest the men in white – there is work to be done.

It was important that when post-Easter Jesus left that people knew that he was really gone this time. Gone and not going to show up on the beach for breakfast again next week. “If [Jesus] had just disappeared again [just faded away rather than making this big dramatic presentation], …there would have been more Jesuses seen in Jerusalem than Elvises in Las Vegas. It’s difficult to get busy with the important business of loving the Christ in your neighbor if you are constantly on the lookout for [Christ in the flesh]” Paraphrased from Delmer Chilton

So what is the point of Ascension Day for us, now, 2000 years later? For the most part we have pretty much gotten the idea. Jesus is not terribly likely to show up in the flesh for a cup of coffee and treats of a morning, or out fishing, or behind locked doors – and we know it. Maybe the disciples needed to see Him go. We have lived our lives not seeing Him in the flesh at all.

I’ve spent a fair amount of time at Backus this weekend. Whether you’ve seen Darcy’s Dance show or not, I’m sure you’ve seen this technique: between acts in plays, or before a concert starts. The entire house is darkened in preparation. The closed curtains are raised. The dancers, or actors, or musicians are all in darkness. They look shadowy, just shapes and suggestions of color. Then the spotlights flash on, blindingly bright – so for a moment – you see nothing, except blinding light. Then everything becomes clear and bright and alive – somehow different than the suggestions of the shadows. You cease to be conscious of the light at all you see only what is illumined by it.

Former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams likens Ascension to this experience: “at first Jesus’s resurrected self was so blinding that the disciples could be conscious only of Him. The ascension, however, is that moment when the light itself recedes into the background, so that Jesus becomes the one through whom we see the rest of the world. “He is the light we see by; we see the world in a new way because we see it through him, see it with his eyes. Moreover, this new perspective works in two ways; not only do we see the world as the place where Jesus has promised to be, but we also see it as the place where we are committed to be. (Feasting on the Word)

Jesus came to illuminate the world. To light the way to justice, to peace, to love and to life abundant. He left us to walk in that way, to follow His illumined path. Why do you stand looking towards heaven, towards the cross, towards the shared bread and wine? We turn to the light. And then we will turn back to the world, where our service begins. And the light will be with us today and tomorrow and through all the tomorrows. Amen.

Easter 5, C

Acts 11:1-18
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13:31-35

Bathrooms. I’ve gone this far in my life without giving them all that much thought. Until very recently, I never conceived that so many people could care with such extraordinary passion about who is doing what in which bathroom as has been demonstrated in the news cycles over the last few months. Artists are cancelling concerts, cities are boycotting states they don’t even belong to (I never even knew that was possible before, but it is happening), people are boycotting businesses. All this hullaballoo over whether trans-gender people, people who feel as if, at their core, they do not belong to the gender that their DNA and birth anatomy suggest that they do, should, when the time is right, excuse themselves to the little boys room or to the little girls room.

The latest fuel to the fire is Target’s announcement that Target’s bathrooms will be trans-gender inclusive – each person may decide for themselves which bathroom they should go into. There was the announcement, then the outrage, then the counterpoint to the outrage, then the boycott announcements, then the outrage about the boycott, and on and on and on.

Those outraged at the notion of allowing transgender persons into the bathroom corresponding to their gender identity rather than their chromosomal make up are convinced that nefarious persons will take advantage of the law – entering the “wrong” bathroom in order to prey on the vulnerable persons therein. I suppose if that never happened it would be the first law in history never subverted in a selfish or dishonest cause. The transgender community (and those who support them) suggest that they have absolutely no interest in preying on anybody. They simply want to pee. Preferably without getting beat up in the process. I’m not preaching about what the right answer is – I think everybody of every imaginable gender should drink plenty of water and be able to deal with the natural consequences of their hydration without being made to feel uncomfortable.

What I am preaching about is identity, which is at the base, I believe, of what has got everybody so riled up about this. Male/female – for most people, an intrinsic part of the fabric of our identity. The identity with which we face the world. The identity which determines many of our interactions, reactions, relationships and responses to the world outside ourselves. For a distinct minority, gender seems irrelevant; but for most it is a crucial component of identity – so crucial that it can feel like a threat if someone is questioning its validity. Like prairie dog sentries in Prairie Dog Town, we chirp the shrill, insistent “That is not a prairie dog – it is a thing not like us” alarm to all and sundry whenever our identity is threatened. Gender is, of course, far from the only component of identity

Peter’s facing up to a backlash of his own in our first lesson. Jewishness – the circumcision, the dietary laws, the purity laws – these have been the underpinnings of Peter’s identity, and the identity of his community since birth. Yet Peter went off and supped with a man, not only uncircumcised but UNCLEAN. Simon Peter stayed with Simon the tanner, a gentile who dealt with corpses on a day to day basis – unclean as unclean gets. His communities’ “not ok, not like us” alarms are blaring. Not only does he not scramble to purify himself – he makes the extraordinary claim that Simon the tanner, the ritually unclean, that the tanner and his gentile friends were privy to the same salvation, the same God, the same spirit as those believers who, up to now, believed themselves God’s chosen ones.

We fix our identities on what we are, what we have, what we know, what we feel that others are not, have not, know not, feel not; and unconsciously assume that God shares our view of who we are and who “THEY” are, or at least He would if He was paying attention.

A pastor tells this story:

My grandma had a brother who was one of the most worthless and trifling human beings I ever met. He was mean to his wife, ignored his children, avoided honest work like the plague and was known far and wide as the biggest and most brazen liar in half a state.

One day Grandma and one of her many grand-daughters were sitting on the front porch; rocking, shelling peas and gossiping about the brother. The young woman maintained that her uncle was beyond hope and a serious embarrassment to herself and every other member of the family. She filled Grandma in on his latest episodes of public sorriness.

Grandma just rocked and shelled and nodded and listened and finally she said, “I’m sure everything you say is true. Still, Jesus loves your Uncle.” The granddaughter turned red in the face and sputtered, “I doubt that, I don’t think even Jesus could love him.” “Yes child,” Grandma said, “Jesus loves everybody and Jesus loves your uncle too.

Then she stopped rocking and shelling and sat perfectly still, while she stared off across the hills. “’ Course”, she said, almost to herself,” that could be ‘cause Jesus don’t know your Uncle as good as we do”. (Rev. Delmer Chilton)

Consider the words of German pastor Martin Niemoeller (1892–1984). Pastor Niemoeller protested Hitler’s anti-semite measures to Herr Hitler in person. Not surprisingly Pastor Niemoeller was eventually arrested, then imprisoned for eight years at Sachsenhausen and Dachau. He later confessed, “It took me a long time to learn that God is not the enemy of my enemies. He (God) is not even the enemy of his (God’s) enemies.”

Peter was tied up in his identity complete with all the laws and hierarchies and exclusionary customs that he “knew” to be true – until God offered him a new identity – an identity with new brothers and sisters, new understanding of God’s creation.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Jesus offered His disciples, offers us, a new identity. An identity that does not depend on firing off the “not like us” alarm. One that deepens and enriches what we already know. An identity based in love, His love. Love that we feel, perhaps, but more importantly – this is his command – love that we do. This is what it means to follow Christ, to love as He loved. To love selflessly, abundantly, exuberantly, to love the unloveable – especially the unlovable. The lepers and the unclean. The liberals and the conservatives. The trans-people and the cis-people. The alcoholics and the abstainers. The strident voices and the quiet souls. The mentally ill and the abnormally sane. The ones we don’t understand. The ones who don’t understand us. To love as He loved.

You may have heard the quote, “Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than going to a garage makes you a car.” Loving God’s children as Christ loved God’s children – this is what Jesus asked so that we might be known as his disciples, his followers.

Easter 4, C

John 10: 22-30

When my 6 year-old is particularly of a mind to surprise or astonish, conversations can become rather drawn out. She’ll first demand attention. Mumma. Mumma. With the clothes tugging and the hand grabbing. Mumma! And when she is absolutely sure she commands undivided attention, she’ll pause. Then exhale. Then smile her funny little mischievous smile. Then inhale deeply. Then start. Can. I. have. a. piece. of. the. thing. that. and on the sentence goes, drawing out each moment. until. you. just want to shake the rest of the words out of her mouth where they must have collected and be waiting to tumble out after collecting in her brain all that time.

This is where we find “the Jews” today – ready to shake the definitive word out of Jesus. How long will you keep us in suspense? Now, “the Jews” do not get a particularly good rap in the Gospel of John, primarily getting associated with treachery, collaboration, betrayal and a stubborn adherence to old and corrupt ways. Still, in the verses just before the lesson today, we learn the Jews are divided – some convinced that Jesus is a lunatic – not actually an entirely unreasonable position: he’s been deliberately acting in a such a manner so as to antagonize some very powerful people. Some are nonetheless convinced that the fruits of his labors, bringing sight to the blind, that sort of thing, are not the fruits produced by someone beset by the demon of lunacy. They are starting to wonder if there isn’t a real powerful sort of something in this Jesus guy. But the man won’t talk in plain talk. He insists on metaphors and analogies and enigmatic references.

We don’t know who asked the question – the Jews who kind of wanted to believe, but needed things spelled out just a little clearer – How long will you keep us in suspense? we really just need to know. Or the ones who felt he was an arrogant, crazy, maker of waves. They would have asked the equally legitimate translation from the Greek – How long will you continue to annoy and vex us? They wanted Jesus to make a clear, unambiguous statement they could attack.

Jesus satisfies neither camp.

Jesus knows what we so often would like to ignore. One simply cannot plainly, logically, satisfactorily explain the complexities of a mystery beyond understanding. He speaks instead in terms of a way of living, a way of relating, a way of protecting, a way to follow.

Sheep. We are the sheep in this allegory. If we’re going to be sheep, there is something you should know.

That really bad rap sheep get, the stupidity thing, the bleating helplessness thing – it’s all a bit overblown, the product of a vicious rumor started largely by cattlefolk. A rumor propagated by cow folk who, for the most part, don’t like sheep. The cattle folk don’t like sheep largely because, well, because they are not cows. Cows can be driven, pushed from behind, running from the hooves of the horses and the noise of whips and yelling cowboys and barking cattle dogs. Do that to a flock of sheep and they will run in circles. They will run in circles because they are trying desperately to get behind whatever is making the chaos, rather than being in front of it, chased by it. Who’s stupid now?

Sheep do, however, have a horrible sense of direction. They prefer to follow. The way to get sheep to where you want them to go is to gain their trust, and lead them there.

ECLA Bishop Leonard Bolick relayed the story of a retired pastor who organized tour of the Holy Land. On a bus trip from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, the pastor told the group they would see many sheep and shepherds. He suggested that they think about how Jesus was the Good Shepherd, noting that shepherds always went in front of the sheep leading them, never went behind, beating or pushing or shoving them. Apropos to the moment, the bus was stopped for a herd of sheep to pass. After the pastor’s reflection, the group was surprised to see a man with a stick beating the sheep. The pastor got off the bus and confronted the man, “Look here, everything I’ve read says the shepherd leads the sheep with love, doesn’t come from behind beating and pushing.” “That’s true,” the man said, “but I’m not a shepherd, I’m a butcher.” (story adapted from Delmer Chilton, Two Bubbas and a Bible)

If we are indeed, the sheep, then we face a choice – will we spend our lives running from the butcher or running to the shepherd? The butcher chases us with fear – of isolation, of poverty, of illness, of separation, of pain – very real, concrete fears. That leaves us with the frightening question – can I believe hard enough, long enough, well enough to escape the butcher? It’s a reasonable question, but not the right one.

Author Debie Thomas writes, “At first glance, Jesus’s reply might appear to suggest that belonging to him depends on believing in him. But in fact, what Jesus says is exactly the opposite: you struggle to believe because you don’t consent to belong. In other words, belief doesn’t come first. It can’t come first. Belonging does.

According to this text, whatever belief I arrive at in this life will come not from a creed or a cleverly worded sermon, but from the daily, hourly business of belonging to Jesus’s flock — of walking in the footsteps of the Shepherd, living in the company of fellow sheep, and listening in real time for the voice of the one whose classroom is rocky hills, hidden pastures, and deeply shadowed valleys. If I won’t follow him into those layered places — places of both tranquility and treachery — I will never belong to him at all” (Debie Thomas, Belonging)

“Maybe, by refusing to “speak plainly” Jesus was honoring human life for the incredibly complicated thing it is. After all, one doesn’t “speak plainly” about the greatest mysteries of the universe. Jesus came to teach us about truth, about love, and about eternal life in God’s just and transformative kingdom. One doesn’t simply profess belief in such weighty and mysterious things — one lives into them, questions into them, believes into them, grows into them.

Sheep know their shepherd because they are his; they walk, graze, feed and sleep in his footsteps, beneath his rod and staff, within constant earshot of his voice. So we believe in the Christ as we belong to him — as we allow ourselves to become fully and deeply his. He walks ahead of us, and we will only learn his path by walking it.” (Debie Thomas, Belonging, Journey with Jesus)

Easter 2, C

Acts 5:27-32

Revelation 1:4-8

John 20:19-31

A brief aside – I read an article last week that I wanted to share with you. In the Easter spirit of new birth, and new life, the Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music, the body which oversees the various liturgies sanctioned by the church has apparently been busy. According the article:

The Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music has officially released a supplement to the Eucharistic rite, approved for trial use beginning on Easter Sunday, 2017. The supplement allows for the addition of fish to the usual Eucharistic elements of bread and wine.

“Jesus clearly intended not only to break bread with his disciples, but also to give them fish,” says a representative of the Commission. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus reveals himself to two disciples in the breaking of the bread and then immediately confirms his bodily resurrection to all of his disciples by consuming some broiled fish.

In John’s gospel, the Biblical description of a fish breakfast with his disciples echoes the wording of our Eucharistic prayers: “Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish” (John 21:13). Since most congregations celebrate the Sunday Eucharist in the morning, the Eucharist should recall not only the Last Supper but also this First Breakfast.

Congregations may wish to use fish during particular seasons of the church year, or on special feast days. The use of fish in Jesus’ post-resurrection meals makes fish an especially appropriate addition to the Eucharist during the Easter season.

The article discussed the documents used to adjust the Eucharistic prayers, in addition to quoting one of the new prayers. The article went on to discuss some of the more practical considerations.

The Commission has also released guidelines for dealing with the practical matters of introducing fish into the Eucharist. In trial liturgies, members of the Commission observed that tuna chunks held together more firmly than some other types of fish.

Locally-raised or -caught catfish are an ideal choice for some parts of the United States. In all cases, congregations will want to consider guidelines for purchasing sustainable seafood. The Episcopal Church hopes to develop a supply chain for liturgically-appropriate fish very soon.

Members of church altar guilds should be prepared to remove fish oil stains from the altar linens very quickly. Finally, the Commission strongly recommends censing the altar immediately after setting the table for the Eucharist in order to reduce any distracting fish odors.

http://www.episcopalcafe.com/standing-commission-on-liturgy-and-music-adds-fish-to-eucharist-for-trial-us/

We may have a chance to can talk more about this next week, when we get a chance to read about that First Breakfast the article mentions.

This week, of course, we have heard about Doubting Thomas, a favorite of mine.

“Doubting Thomas” It’s traditionally said with such disdain, but let’s be realistic – a certain amount of doubt, or more positively stated “wariness” or perhaps even “healthy skepticism” is a virtue in this world – lest we be taken in by schemes, hoaxes, or pranks of whatever variety. “There’s a sucker born every minute.” according to the old P. T. Barnum (attributed) quote; and no one likes to be that sucker. So we doubt, we question, we quiz, we insist on corroboration, proof. In that we are Thomas’s twins. Without doubt, without questioning, without wondering, we’d be taken in by every huckster’s claim: we’d sell the family treasure for magic beans, we’d buy stock in water from the fountain of youth, we’d be cleaning fish oil off the fair linen after Easter service in a year. (Did I mention that the article about adding fish to the Eucharist was published on Friday – April 1st?)

The crucifixion was no April Fools joke – it was a horrific, brutal act; meant to silence the radical influence of the insurrectionist rabbi; an event from which the disciples fled for fear of joining Jesus in his grisly death. They hid behind locked doors in fear of later repercussions. A week later, Thomas with them this time, they were still hiding in that same dark room, behind the same locked doors.

Yet in the lesson from Acts today, those same disciples – who ran from Jesus, who fled from the cross, who hid trembling behind locked doors – stand indomitable in front of the judge – boldly proclaiming their faith and fealty. It is not the first time they have stood in that untenable position. It’s not even the second. Their rebellious teaching had already got them hauled up before the court with cease and desist order imposed. They persisted in their faith-filled sedition, and were jailed. Freed by an angel from prison by an angel, they could have been forgiven for high-tailing it back to that safe little anonymous room behind protective locked doors. Instead they headed right back to the temple, to preaching, and predictably back to the courts, even with the memory of the cross fresh in their psyches.

From whence came their courage and faith? What happened between the cross and the court? Jesus happened. The risen Lord happened.

Jesus came to them in the house. Came to them in their fear. Came to them in their doubt. He pushed through the walls – the walls of the house, the walls of fear. Jesus opened their locked doors, their locked hearts. He met them where they were – in their sorrow, in their guilt, in their disappointment, in their doubts. He met them and breathed upon them the spirit of peace – Shalom, peace be with you. He offered his wounded body yet again – touch my hands, feel my wound – if that is what you need.

We imagine that he rebuked Thomas for his doubt – “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”. I don’t think this is rebuke. His words are peaceful, His mangled hands outstretched – a gesture of invitation, a gesture of love, loving Thomas, loving the apostles, loving, giving. His next words are not words of rebuke, but words of blessing. Not blessing for the witnesses in the room, but blessing for the next generation and the next – a blessing for us – calling us to action just has the apostles were called.

We struggle against doubt. We want to believe, believe without qualm, able to stand bravely before the judges of the world without trepidation. We want to skip straight to certainty without living the questions. 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.” Rilke wrote: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and learn to love the questions themselves”.

The Alpha and the Omega, who was and is and is to come, our Lord and our God will be there through the doubts, through the fear, through the uncertainty, in the prisons of loneliness or sorrow or apathy or anger, in the growing courage, in the peace of understanding – hands outstretched, bidding us peace, shalom; giving us life, bidding us live for the Kingdom of God. Amen.

Easter Sunday, Year C

Isaiah 65:17-25
Acts 10:34-43
Luke 24:1-12

Before I get all distracted and forgetful, I want to bid a hearty welcome to our long lost friend, gone these 40 days, and now rejoining us in worship. Welcome back, Alleluia! We have missed you.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

My daughters were having a conversation about Jesus the other day. I’m not entirely sure how we got to that conversation. We finished reading a story – a children’s book telling the story of Easter in a unsatisfactorily sanitized sort of way – and they were getting ready for bed. Sometimes I get lost in the tooth brushing and the hair braiding and the jammy finding and so on and I don’t quite grasp the conversation swirling around me as quickly as perhaps I should.

I consciously tuned in to the conversation about the time one said, “Well, you can’t do that – Jesus is dead!”. I don’t think I ever learned what couldn’t be done – the conversation moved on. Always eager to educate her sibling, the other corrected, “Jesus isn’t dead, Jesus is alive.” My young pragmatist asserted her own certain knowledge, “But he died.” “Yes, He died, and He was dead, but now He isn’t anymore.” The first tried to clarify, “So he’s alive, but not the real alive?” My young educator tried again, “He died, but now he’s alive, but not regular alive, bigger than that…” and she finally ended in that last bastion of the uncertain against the un-learned, “It’s complicated…”

It is at once hopelessly complicated and outrageously simple:

Christ died. Christ is Risen. Christ is Lord of all. The underlying tenets of our faith.

Christ died. This we know. This we understand – death as part of life. Jesus lived a life of radical subversion against the ruling forces of the day. That behavior gets a person hurt, or killed, or both, in any century. It did in the midst of the of the Roman Empire. It did in Nazi Germany. It did in apartheid South Africa. It did during the civil rights movement in this country. It does in Syria and Iraq and countless other repressive regimes and oppressive political structures everywhere. Christ died. The emperor won. Or he would have, if the story ended there.

If those kind, loving women found what they expected; if they had been allowed to complete their ministrations to the body of their murdered friend and teacher, then Jesus would have gone down in history as one more example of Roman torture, Roman rule by fear – just another dead subversive – or more likely He would not have gone down in history at all. But they didn’t find Him in the tomb, and the emperor didn’t win. Christ is risen.

“Christ died” – this we get. “Christ is risen” – this is where we as Easter people in a modern world join my daughter’s flummoxed observation – “It’s complicated”. In our culture, fact equals truth; fact is not fact until it can be scientifically proven in reproducible research. To be valid something must be proven beyond a reasonable doubt – or at the very least must appear on multiple internet blogs and Facebook postings. The resurrection cannot be scientifically proven or reproduced. A great deal of time and effort have been spent over the centuries to “prove” or “disprove” the “fact” of the resurrection. No amount of effort can undermine the Truth with a capital T of the resurrection. In the words of C.S. Lewis, “the Resurrection is the truest of all stories, with God as its poet.”

Doubt is not unique to our enlightened century. Do not imagine that Mary Magdalene and Johanna and Mary, mother of James and all the other women came to the tomb inclined to believe that Jesus rose from the dead. Certainly the disciples did not – dismissing the women’s “idle tales” First century folk knew as well as we do that dead is dead and dead people have no business rising up from it. But the women, and then the disciples, and later Saul, and later still thousands upon thousands of other people experienced the risen Christ in a way that told them that the emperor did not win. Jesus rose and Jesus lives and Jesus is Lord, which means that the emperor and all his politics and all the anger and all the hate in the world are NOT Lord. They do not get the last word.

What does that mean to us today, 2000 years later? The poor remain with us; innocent people still die; injustice, anger, and hostility appear to rule the day. Our leaders and would-be leaders, in a seemingly unending bid for power, rather than fostering the wolf and lamb feeding together instead joust and jockey for the most massive “war chest”, the last word, the prettiest partner, the most influential friends, the biggest…hands. They fling insults and they foster fear.

Yet we are Easter people, led by the hope, ruled by the mystery of love and freedom that is the risen Christ. We are reborn by the resurrection into a new way of being. Far from offering a passive promise of a better life in the beyond, the risen Lord Christ frees us, teaches us to bring the Kingdom of God to the here, to the now. The emperor does not get the last word.

Marcus Borg and Dominick Crossan write, “Jesus is Lord, the most widespread post-Easter affirmation in the New Testament…involves a deep centering in God, a deep centering in God that includes radical trust in God, the same trust that we see in Jesus. It produces freedom – “for freedom, Christ has set us free”; compassion – the greatest of the spiritual gifts is love; and courage – “Fear not, do not be afraid.” Without this personal centering in God, Dietrich Bonhoeffer would not have had the freedom and courage to engage in a conspiracy against Hitler within Nazi Germany itself. Without it, Desmond Tutu could not have opposed apartheid with such courage, infectious joy, and a reconciling spirit. Without it, Martin Luther King, Jr., could not have kept on keeping on in the midst of all the threats that he faced.”

(Marcus J. Borg and John Dominick Crossan, The Last Week, p 214-215)

The threats are real. The fear is real. The anger is real. The injustice is real.

To quote Brian McClaren:

I pray they all will be surpassed by the simple joy

of women and men standing in the presence of women and men,

daring to proclaim and echo the good news:

Risen indeed! Alleluia!

For death is not the last word.

Violence is not the last word.

Hate is not the last word.

Money is not the last word.

Intimidation is not the last word.

Political power is not the last word.

Condemnation is not the last word.

Betrayal and failure are not the last word.

No: each of them are left like rags in a tomb,

and from that tomb,

arises Christ,

Alive.

(Brian McClaren, “Prayer for Pastors at Easter”)

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-14

John 13:1-17; 31b-35

It’s Thursday night of Holy Week. Jesus and his disciples are gathered for dinner in an upper room. The disciples are still riding the high wave of his triumphal entry into Jerusalem and all the actions of the week.

Jesus threw the moneychangers out of the temple and no one dared to lay a hand on him. The Pharisees, the priests, and the Sadducees had all tried to trip him up, to no avail. Who knows what the disciples were thinking as they gathered to celebrate the Passover? Did they still expect Jesus to somehow defeat the Romans and throw them out? Did they expect him to walk away from Jerusalem unscathed? Several Gospels make it clear that the disciples still didn’t understand what was about to take place.

Look at the encounter between Peter and Jesus. Suddenly Jesus gets up from the table, takes off his outer cloak, ties a towel around him and proceeds to wash the feet of his disciples. This is a task that was always performed by a slave in the culture of that time.

So when he arrives at Peter’s place at the table, Peter refuses his service. Peter is reflecting the common understanding of his culture, that doing the job of a slave would somehow demean his Lord. Jesus almost threatens Peter by saying he must submit or not share in Jesus’s portion. At that Peter goes to the other extreme and expects Jesus to also wash his hands and his head.

Peter, so often quick to speak and slow to reflect, is rebuked mildly by Jesus, who reminds him what is proper and necessary. When he is done washing their feet Jesus returns to the table and asks them, “Do you know what I have done to you?”

How would you answer that question? What has Jesus done to the Disciples? He has waited on them like a slave, thus overturning the “natural order” of that time. He then teaches them that they must do the same for each other. They must also defy the rules of their society by taking on a role that is beneath them.

He also reminds them that the servant is not greater than the master. Isn’t that an odd thing to say? He has turned the usual order upside down, so it seems, yet this statement makes it clear that he is not just reversing the usual order, thereby making the slave greater than the master. No, he is stating that all are equal. This is far more radical than just turning the hierarchy upside down. This is a new paradigm, a new pattern for understanding the relationships between people.

As usual, Jesus is calling his followers to change, to new understanding, and to new behaviors. He shows them the way to personal transformation through service. How many times have I heard people talk about how they were changed by serving the terminally ill and their families? To serve others is a privilege and it is an act that may well change the server, giving them new insights, and enriching their spiritual life.

As usual, Jesus is also calling his followers to public or political transformation. Envisioning a new order, a new society where all are equal, implies the necessity of public action and political action to create this new society.

Although Christianity has been around over 2000 years, the same inequalities and same old behaviors are still with us. Look around our community. I’ll bet you could each describe some part of the pecking order that’s part of our culture. Who looks down their nose at us? To whom do we feel superior? We don’t have slaves any more, but some people are certainly still treated like slaves, aren’t they?

And we talk about the disciples “not getting it”! Christians have had 2000 years to bring about the kingdom and we’re still struggling to grasp what Jesus had to teach us. What we so often fail to see is how the transformation Jesus offers us is also an offer of freedom.

Marcus Borg has said that transformation is the central act of Christianity. That transformation is what changes us from ordinary people into disciples of Jesus. This transformation seldom happens overnight; instead it happens little by little. In the Gospels we can see it happening to the Jesus’s followers, and so it may also happen for us. The transformation, the big change, happens through lots of little changes over time, changes we make for ourselves or changes that happen due to things we see, hear, feel, or experience.

The Old Testament lesson tonight is about the Exodus, the primary story of the Jewish bible. It’s about God leading his people from bondage to freedom. As I have thought about change this Lent, I see more clearly that the transformation that occurs when we mindfully change ourselves or open ourselves to change is always, in one way or another, about moving from bondage to freedom.

The changes we talked about at the Lenten services this year were all about changes that can free us: free us from being locked into bad habits, locked into our own plans and expectations, locked into our own way of doing things, locked into any particular point of view, etc. In other words, they can free us from our resistance to change.

Jesus proposes a society in which all are equal, where a person would no longer need to worry about their position, reputation, or status. We can all be different, but if we know that all are equal in God’s sight, we can relax and just be who we are. We would not need to feel better by putting others down. Bullying and the most painful forms of gossip would disappear.

We could spend three or four sermons exploring the political implications of Jesus’s teaching. Just remember that what he proposes is indeed a radical new order, one that frees us from the restrictions and pop idols of our culture; frees us from hierarchy, one that frees us to be the best we can be without having to step on anyone else along the way.

And it is in service to others that we can come to understand what Jesus teaches in new ways. We don’t do mission work outside the church just for the fun of it, or because we have to, or because we want to help the less fortunate. We need to do this kind of work because it puts us in touch with some of God’s children that we would otherwise not meet.

Jesus calls us all to service, both to one another and to those who are OTHER. Jesus asks all of us, “Do you know what I have done to you?” He has set us an example and shown us the way to become more like him by loving one another. Go thou and do likewise. . . . AMEN

Lenten Service – MAKING CHANGE

Galatians 5:16-25

Luke 6:46-49

The topic for this year’s Lenten series is “Making Change.” Consider for a moment a bit of history. Our ancient ancestors often lived for many generations in the same place with the same set of customs, religious views, and tools. Only the most adventurous ever traveled afar or moved to a new environment. They were hunter-gatherers and probably followed the same basic life-style for 40,000 years.

Then, about 10,000 years ago some unnamed woman started raising grain instead of just gathering it, and so began the Neolithic revolution. Farming spread and the changes it brought about led to other changes. People began to live in communities, then cities; populations increased where there was a steady supply of food. The rate of change began to increase, very slowly.

Today we are faced with a technological world that is creating change faster than most of us can keep up. Such rapid change makes us yearn for the good old days. Some yearn so deeply that they become grumpy and disgruntled, hanging on to old ways so desperately that they impede any sort of change.

We must remember that to make significant change we have to start with where we are now. There’s no turning back the clock. We have to accept that change begins at home; it starts with us; what we do, what we eat, what we wear, how we spend our time, talent, and treasure.

This evening I’m tackling the subject of ‘changing habits.’ So let me begin with one of my frequent rants: why is it so much harder to start and sustain good habits than it is to start and maintain bad ones? I find this fact extremely annoying! The only approximation I’ve found to answer the why is this: “You get what you pay for.” Bad habits are easy because they are bad. You have to work harder, be more persistent, and be more mindful to build good ones, because slipping back into the old ones is sooooo easy.

The reading from Galatians tonight draws a very clear line between the fruits of the flesh and the fruits of the spirit, but I would prefer to set the context for our discussion with an old Native tale.

ONE EVENING, A CHEROKEE ELDER TOLD HIS GRANDSON ABOUT A BATTLE THAT GOES ON INSIDE PEOPLE.

HE SAID "MY SON, THE BATTLE IS BETWEEN TWO ‘WOLVES’ INSIDE EACH OF US. ONE WOLF IS EVIL. IT IS ANGER, ENVY, JEALOUSY, SORROW, REGRET, GREED, ARROGANCE, SELF-PITY, GUILT, RESENTMENT,

INFERIORITY, LIES, FALSE PRIDE, SUPERIORITY, AND EGO.

THE OTHER WOLF IS GOOD. IT IS JOY, PEACE LOVE, HOPE, SERENITY, HUMILITY, KINDNESS, BENEVOLENCE,

EMPATHY, GENEROSITY, TRUTH, COMPASSION, AND FAITH."

THE GRANDSON THOUGHT ABOUT IT FOR A MINUTE AND THEN ASKED: "WHICH WOLF WILL WIN?…"

HIS GRANDFATHER SIMPLY REPLIED, "THE ONE THAT YOU FEED."

One reason I prefer this story is that it avoids the Greek duality of spirit vs. flesh. It assumes that both are part of the business of being human. It tells us that to feed the good wolf, we must cultivate the habits that it represents.

So how do we do that? Begin with cultivating mindfulness. That means looking at your own life and your own behavior in a realistic way. What needs changing? Only then can you begin to change anything.

When I began writing this sermon I was going to encourage all of you to begin a practice of meditation – and that is certainly a helpful step in feeding the good wolf.

But then I saw something on Facebook that reminded me that there are lots of other ways, more active ways of creating change in ourselves (and let’s remember that changing ourselves is how we change others and ultimately change the world!)

I’m calling it: “Spiritual disciplines of action that feed the good wolf.”

• Live beneath your means.
• Stop blaming other people.
• Admit it when you make a mistake.
• Give clothes not worn to charity.
• Do something nice and try not to get caught.
• Listen more; talk less.
• Strive for excellence, not perfection.
• Take a 30 minute walk every day.
• Don’t make excuses. Don’t argue.
• Be kind to people, especially unkind people.
• Let someone cut in line ahead of you.
• Cultivate good manners
• Realize and accept that life isn’t fair.
• Go an entire day without criticizing anyone.
• Learn from the past; plan for the future; live in the present
• Don’t sweat the small stuff; it’s all small stuff.

This is merely a starting point. You can add and subtract from the list as necessary. Individualize it for yourself. Meditation is extremely helpful if it works for you.

If we are honest with ourselves, we know our own bad habits better than anyone else. Make a list and begin to tackle each one, one at a time. Don’t hold yourself to perfection, just look for improvement. Do as the 12 step participants do, take it one day at a time. Fake it until you make it – meaning that if you pretend to be kind for long enough you will become a kinder person. Being kind becomes a habit.

Someone who has been sober for almost 40 years told me that one of the things he was advised to do when he joined AA was to change everything. What? Change everything? He knew he’d have to change some of his friends, but did he need to change everything? Well, he was asked, did he drive home from work the same way every night?

The answer was yes. So he tried a new route, and that’s when it hit him that the old route just happened to go past his favorite pub. Taking the new route meant he didn’t have to struggle with the steering wheel to keep the car from turning in there.

We all know what it’s like to get into a rut. It’s often comfortable there and makes life easier because we don’t have to choose anything else or even think about it. But we also know that it usually gets boring and is usually somehow tied up with bad habits, like maybe sloth, or gluttony, or complaining, etc…..

Change is a challenge and it can feel difficult and uncomfortable, but once we recognize that change is inevitable in the world we inhabit, it makes it easier to see that the choice we have to make is not whether we want to change or not. The question is do we want to change for the better or for the worse? The same question applies whether we are talking about our physical well-being or our spiritual well-being – and really they often function together. When we don’t get enough exercise what happens? We can’t separate our bodies, minds, or spirits into boxes, so whatever we do for any one of them, whether for good or not, also impacts the others.

Think for a moment about habits of the mind. Have you ever been so focused on your plans for the day that you have passed up the opportunity to help someone? Have you ever had your expectations of some event so clearly in mind that disappointment was the inevitable outcome? As a friend pointed out the other day, the women going to the tomb to anoint Jesus’s body with spices were so set on their task that they missed the glory of the resurrection.

The ways we interpret events, the ways we respond to them, may be another form of bad habit. While we do not have the power to change other people by force of will, we do have the power to change ourselves. And changing ourselves to the good has tremendous potential for changing others merely by example.

If you only remember two things from this evening, remember these:

• Change is to the whole person what exercise is to the body. It keeps us flexible!

· The way to change yourself is the same as the way you get to Carnegie Hall: practice, practice, practice.

It’s practice that feeds the good wolf within. And changing ourselves is just the first step in changing the world. AMEN

LAST SUNDAY OF EPIPHANY

Exodus 34:29-35

Luke 9:28-36

Unless you haven’t had a TV on or read a newspaper in the past three weeks, you probably know that today is Super Bowl Sunday. Do you also know that this is the last Sunday of Epiphany? Can you imagine that the two events have anything in common? Well, let’s see.

On the last Sunday of Epiphany the lesson is always about the transfiguration of Jesus. This year we read Luke’s account of the event, which takes place just before Jesus and his motley crew begin their final journey to Jerusalem. What struck me most this time around is that this event is actually for the benefit of the three disciples more than it is about Jesus.

Jesus takes Peter, John, and James with him up a mountain to pray, leaving the others behind. The story is told from the disciples point of view. While Jesus was praying they saw his face change and his clothes became bright white. This is a classic sign of an epiphany experience. We don’t know what Jesus saw or experienced but we hear what the disciples saw- so it is their experience that is at the heart of the story.

Next, two other men appeared IN GLORY. They were seen in a strange bright light. The disciples knew that these men were Moses and Elijah. This kind of knowledge that is outside of rational experience is also indicative of an epiphany experience. After all, how could they possibly know who these two were. Couldn’t one have been Abraham? No, they were Moses, who had spoken to God on the mountain, as we heard in the first reading today, and Elijah, the greatest of the ancient prophets.

Peter, John, and James are having a classic mountain-top experience. And like most ordinary people who have this kind of experience, they don’t get it. At least not right away.

Peter wants to maintain the experience – stay on the mountain, build some shelters, spend some time with these amazing beings. But as we know, the point of an epiphany is not to hold you captive to it, but to teach you something you can incorporate into your ordinary life. Even if you don’t get it at the time it happens, the hope is that as you reflect on it, the new insight it brings will help to shape your understanding and behavior in the time to come.

The disciples are engulfed in a cloud, and a voice says, “This is my son, my chosen; listen to him. When they could see again, Jesus was alone. They returned to the others, but none of them spoke of what had happened. In the other Gospel accounts Jesus told them not to speak of it. Either way, it’s not hard to understand why they stayed silent.

Like any of us, they probably did not want to be ridiculed. Nor would they have wanted to raise the ire of the excluded disciples. It’s also true that too much talk about a spiritual experience, especially done before you’ve had a chance to reflect on it, is very likely to dilute the power of the experience and to even affect one’s memory of it.

For years this story really did not make sense to me, partly because I had not reflected much on my own pale epiphanies, and partly because I couldn’t see the point of it. I have recently come to the conclusion that the point of it is to prepare the leaders of the disciples for what’s coming. Clearly telling them what’s ahead hasn’t worked terribly well. While this experience doesn’t make the future any clearer to them, it emphasizes who Jesus really is and makes clear that they are supposed to listen to him.

So imagine this. The Panthers are going to the Super Bowl for the first time. The coach calls aside the captain, the quarterback, and the defensive middle line backer. He talks to them about the terrible pressure they will all experience when they get to San Francisco. Pressure from the media to give interviews and answer dumb questions; pressure to perform on the field during practice and of course during the game; temptations to party during the long week before the game takes place.

He cautions them about all the bad choices that players could make during the week. He insists that they all must keep their eye on the prize. They can party when the season is over and the media have gone home. Maybe he tells stories from past Super Bowls as “lessons” to be considered.

We can assume that the coach will later tell the whole team the same sort of things. The point of singling out the leaders is to inspire their aid in keeping the troops in line. The coach can’t be everywhere and he doesn’t hear everything. But the leaders can do a great deal to see that the team toes the line.

If this comparison to the transfiguration doesn’t seem a valid one, just consider what might have happened in Jerusalem when the disciples began to see that Jesus was thumbing his nose at the authorities, but doing nothing to get rid of the Romans. What might have happened when Jesus was arrested? They might have scattered and returned home right then, never to know about the resurrection. That’s what the Romans assumed would happen when they crucified Jesus. Cut off the head of the movement and the movement will collapse.

I really think the purpose of the transfiguration was to stiffen the spines and the resolve of the leaders, so that they could do the same for the other disciples when the going got tough. And maybe at that time they talked about what they had seen, to emphasize who and what Jesus was and therefore why they had to carry on.

It could so easily have gone the other way. When the John the Baptist was killed his movement died. And there were many other examples in history. Have you ever wondered how a simple fisherman like Peter could become the leader of a worldwide faith? Or how a dedicated opponent of the Jesus movement like Saul could possibly be converted, much less become the most successful spreader of the Gospel?

We know Paul’s conversion story, but I think the building of the disciples as a winning team may have turned on the experience of the transfiguration. It formed the future leadership to take over when Jesus was no longer with them and it gave them the strength, the resolve, and the courage to continue the telling of the Gospel story and to act in Jesus’s place. And they were able to pass this courage and resolve on to others.

We have inherited the church from them and the many people in between. We must pass it on to those who come after. So, remember that God is with us, that we must listen to Jesus, and we too must have the resolve and courage to pass his story on to others. AMEN

Epiphany 3, C, 2016

1 Corinthians 12:12-31a
Luke 4:14-21

Are You My Mother? by P. D. Eastman. Do you know this book? It was first published in 1960. I remember it as one of our favorite books from my childhood – mine and my parents. I read it to my 6 year-old last night. It has not lost its charm. In case you don’t know the story, it’s about an egg, or rather about the little bird who hatches out of the egg. His mother knew he was going to be hatching soon, so she went off to look for food for her chick. He hatched a little faster than anticipated, apparently. When the chick sees no mother on his arrival, he looks up. He does not see her. He looks down. He does not see her. After a thorough search of his nest fails to turn up a mother, he goes off to search for her.

He comes to a kitten. “Are you my mother?” he asks. The kitten just looks. The kitten is not his mother, so he moves on. He comes to a chicken. “Are you my mother?” “No” says the chicken. And on to a dog, “I am not your mother. I am a dog,” answers the dog. The search continues through a cow, a car, a boat, a plane, and a large machine that snorts, with increasingly unsatisfactory replies.

I won’t keep you in any more suspense – the snort, which is a crane, returns him to his nest. Mumma Bird returns and asks Baby Bird, “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. You are not a kitten. You are not a hen. You are not a dog. You are not a cow. You are not a boat or a plane or a snort. You are a bird, and you are my mother.”

The story reminds me of the lessons today. All of the lessons are talking about what it means to recognize the Spirit or to recognize the Christ, who would gather us “as a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wings”. Rev. Joan Gray, moderator of the 217th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA) commented, “When you really think about it, this dunamis (power) of the Spirit is the only thing the early church had going for it. It had no buildings, no budget, no paid staff, and very few members.”

A church is born. Church knows it has a purpose, but she does not see it. She looks up. She looks down. She does not see her purpose. She goes to search for her purpose. She comes to a building with a steeple and a cross and candles. People gather there for succor and for strength, for pardon and for renewal, for spiritual nourishment and for inspiration. She asks the building, “Are you my purpose?” But the building is not her purpose. It is a building.

Church continues the search. She sees clergy and vestry, lay readers and acolytes, cleaners, singers, visitors, preachers, prayers. She asks the individuals, “Are you my purpose?” They are individuals, groups with specific tasks, important tasks, necessary tasks. They serve the purpose, but they are not the purpose.

Church moves on. She sees a membership drive – struggling to draw people into the building, to draw funds into the building, to widen the circle of people, to bring in more individuals. Are you my purpose? But it is a campaign. It might bring people to the purpose. It might fund the purpose. It is not her purpose.

Church moves on. Church sees people using the wisdom of the Gospel and the sacred word to make themselves better. To become better spouses, caretakers, leaders, or community members. Are you my purpose? But it is a self-help program. It furthers the purpose. It is not her purpose.

Church moves on. She sees people studying scripture, learning its words and using those sacred words to “prove” that other people are less than themselves, other, excluded, or wrong. “Are you my purpose?” she asks. But this is a weapon. This is not her purpose.

Church begins to wonder. Do I have a purpose? I must have a purpose. I know I have a purpose.

Church sees a rabbi. The rabbi unrolls a scroll and begins to read,

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

The church looks at the rabbi.

The rabbi looks at the church.

“Do you know who I am?” asks the rabbi.

Yes. I know who you are. You are not a building. You are not disparate individuals, You are not a membership drive or a fund drive. You are not a self help program. You are certainly not a weapon. You are the Lord, and you are my purpose, and I am your body, fueled by the Spirit, and that is my purpose.

We will break bread together soon, and share in the spiritual food of Christ’s body and blood. After we join together at the Lord’s table, we will retire downstairs to our Annual Meeting. There, we will conduct business. Practical, real, necessary business that must be done. Tasks must be performed, and if we don’t use our gifts to perform them, they will not get done. The absolute most important thing we can do today, the most crucial task, is to know who we are – to recognize our purpose….

We are the body of Christ – we meet in this building, but we are the body of Christ in our workplaces, our leisure places, our community, our homes, in the world. We are children of the resurrection, the living, breathing, palpable body of Christ working together – each with our own talents, each with our own gifts – working together to live Christ’s love; to bring healing, justice, and compassion to a broken, fearful and divisive world. Anointed to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, to free the oppressed. To be the voice of love, the hands of service, the heart of light and hope. Do we know who we are?