Imagine that it’s a week from today, and we’re in the Mercedes Benz Superdome in New Orleans. The place is packed with fans from both the San Francisco ‘49ers and the Baltimore Ravens, all breathlessly waiting for this historic matchup. We’ve just finished singing the “Star Spangled Banner.” Everyone is ready for the opening kickoff. It’s 6:29! Here we go! And it’s wonderful.1 As his eyes watch the ball, the kicker’s brain registers its speed, and then tells his arms and hands how to catch it. His ears pick up his teammates’ shout as to where to send the return kick. His brain tells his legs to move, and they do, both in the same direction! And all the while his heart and lungs are pounding away. Whew! Thank heavens! If any of the parts of the kicker’s body decided to call it quits, his team would be done for.
If Paul were writing today to those pesky Christians in Corinth, he could have used that image of the Super Bowl opening kick. So what was the problem in Corinth, and why was Paul so exercised in the part of his letter to them that we just heard? Paul had been one of the founders of that community, and he knew how diverse it was. Some of its members were wealthy, among the elite of this new Roman city, while others were merchants or artisans, and some were even slaves. There were Gentiles and Jews, and, of course, both women and men. They had different ideas about eating meat sacrificed in the temples, about whether they should marry or not, and how they would eat their holy meal together. They also seemed to have been given different gifts by the Holy Spirit. In particular, some people seemed to have the gift of ecstatic speech in an unknown language, “speaking in tongues.” Those who had this gift also seemed to think they were superior to those who didn’t have this gift.
Certainly Paul understood – and acknowledged – the differences among the members of this community. Even so, Paul looked at the human body, with its 206 bones, 639 muscles, and 6 pounds of skin, together with its ligaments, cartilage, veins, arteries, blood, fat, and more. And he used the image of the body – actually a common image for society in Paul’s day – to remind the Corinthians that, despite their differences, they were now part of a single organism. To be sure, they had been gifted by the Holy Spirit in their baptisms with different gifts, but, what is more important, they were now part of a single community that must work together as harmoniously as the myriad parts of the human body at its best. Just as the eye and mouth are as necessary to the body as the ear and nose, so no part of the community is more needed than any other part. Just as the stomach, intestines, and genitals are as necessary to the body as the brain, so no one in the Corinthian community, whether they can speak in tongues or not, is superior to any other member.
Yet Paul also understood well that, like the parts of the body, the members of a Christian community do not all have the same role in the community. They all work for the same purpose to build up of the community, but the Spirit has given them different gifts to help the community grow. To press home his point, Paul gives a few examples of the roles members of the community may play: apostles to proclaim the good news, prophets to pronounce God’s judgment and consolation, teachers to help Christians grow in their faith, healthcare workers to heal, servers and leaders, and speakers in tongues. No one can play all roles – not even Jesus did everything during his earthly ministry – nor should anyone envy those with different roles from their own.
Of course, we understand that players have different roles when we watch two football teams face off against each other. The quarterbacks specialize in passing, while the receivers are especially good at receiving. The player making the opening kick, and all the kickers, are excellent at kicking, while the linemen are the best blockers. What’s more important, each member of the team depends on the others to play their role as perfectly as possible. Each has specialized in the skills needed for their particular role, and each is necessary for successful play.
And are we here at St. Peter’s any different from those Christians in Corinth, or from the ‘49ers and Ravens? We too are part of a living organism. To be sure, we have our differences: in ethnicity, gender, age, occupation, history in the parish, and other aspects of our lives. But like the Corinthians, we too were all baptized into Christ, all of us received gifts from the Holy Spirit, and all of us are now part of Christ’s team. And here’s the important part: all of us have work to do so that this community may flourish. If you are sitting up and breathing, you have a role to play! None of us can do everything – even the priest – and no role is superior to any other. Yet all of us were gifted by the Holy Spirit to play the role for which God chose us.
What are some of those roles we are called to play? All of us are called to be generous with our resources – that goes without saying. Some of us were called to lead worship. Only the priest can read the Gospel, preside at the Eucharist, give absolution, and pronounce blessing. But others are needed to read the lessons, serve the chalice, and, when trained, to preach. Some are called to lead the parish in education, both of children and adults, and some are called to help form others in Christ, through sharing in smaller group settings. Equally important are those who are called to promote fellowship, through organizing potlucks, picnics, youth outings, and other social gatherings. Some are called to proclaim the good news and invite their friends, neighbors, or relatives into the fellowship of Christ’s body. Some are called to offer pastoral care to others: providing meals when needed, visiting the sick and the shut-ins, remembering those in prison, or sending out birthday cards.
Some of called to service within the parish: there would be no Eucharist without the Altar Guild, the building would fall apart without a junior warden, and our accounts – and our standing within the diocese – would be in chaos without a treasurer. Some are called to spur us to mission, to organize and work in activities such as the diaper ministry and Loaves and Fishes, to collect and deliver food to the Outreach Center, to support the Snack Pack program. Some are called to draw our attention to wider issues: to encourage us to ask why people are hungry, why people can’t afford diapers on their own, or how we can be better stewards of the earth. Some are called to remind us of the ties we have to other Christian bodies and to draw us into greater cooperation with other faith communities. Some are called to pray for others, both those needing prayer within the parish and those who are farther off. And some are called to what I call a ministry of witness, to work for the kingdom simply by sitting – in the pew week after week. They cheer up the priest and they encourage others who see their loyalty to God. David Leininger tells the story of a man who came to worship week after week without fail, even though he was profoundly deaf and could not hear what was happening. Finally, the pastor asked him why he came, when surely he wasn’t getting much out of the service. The man replied, “I just want to show the world whose side I’m on.”2 That is as important a role as any other!
My friends, you are all part of the body, you are all on the team, and you have all been called to this place by the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit needs every one of you to carry out God’s plan in this place. Do you think the body doesn’t need you? Everyone matters in this place: babies, children, parents, those actively employed, those who are retired, and even those who are disabled. Don’t amputate the body. Don’t desert the team. Don’t sit back and let others play their roles without you. Don’t envy the gifts of others and wish you had their role. The Holy Spirit has called you and endowed you with a unique set of gifts and talents.
Teach us your ways, Lord,
that we may accept our own talents openly,
nurture them hopefully,
develop them faithfully,
And give them freely.3
1. I’m grateful to David E. Leininger, Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Series VI, Cycle C (Lima: OH, CSS, 2009), 52ff. for this analogy.
2. Leininger, 56.
3. Adapted from Ted Loder, “Teach Me Your Ways,” Guerillas of Grace (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 2005), 109
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Signs
Suppose you were driving along, and you saw a sign that said, “Dual carriageway ends.” Would you know what was up ahead? George Bernard Shaw once remarked that the U.S. and U.K. were “two nations separated by a common language.” Americans who have the nerve to drive around the U.K. quickly discover the differences between American English and the “mother tongue.” “Dual carriageway ends” tells you that your four-lane road is about to become two-lane. How about a sign telling you to “give way?” That’s the equivalent of a “yield” sign. And one announcing a “zebra crossing?” Why, it’s a “pedestrian crossing.” Of course, even in the U.S. we need to heed the information provided by road signs. Who hasn’t been a little more cautious on seeing the orange and black sign announcing “road work ahead?” Even in a city whose roads you know well, to say nothing of places you’re visiting for the first time, and even guided by Samantha or Bob on your GPS, it’s helpful to have those large green and white signs that safely guide you through confusing interchanges. As good drivers know, we all need to watch for signs and attentively follow them.
We all need signs in the spiritual life too. I often think of the spiritual life as a journey. Sometimes on this journey, I feel as if I’m driving at night in the fog – as I recently did coming home from Columbus. Even so, more often than not, like the white edge lines on the right side of the road, God provides signs of God’s presence, and when needed, God even provides green and white highway signs to keep us going in the right direction.
We are now in the season of Epiphany. Epiphany is a season of signs. It’s a time for us to get clues as to Jesus’ identity and hints about where he may be at work. Actually, the clues and hints began at Christmas, as we remembered again the astonishing willingness of the Word to become human, of the transcendent, mysterious, unknowable God to take on human flesh inside the body of a woman and to come among us as vulnerable infant. We could meditate a lifetime on the unfathomable mystery announced in that sign! The visit of the gentile eastern astrologers, which we remembered on the day of Epiphany, reminded us that the Word had come to us for the sake of all people, not just for a chosen few. Luke’s account of Jesus’ baptism gave another sign of who this Jesus might be: one who models for us solidarity with all people, dependence on prayer, and trust in God’s affirmation. Next week, we will learn that Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s prophecies in Isaiah, the following week we will discover that Jesus’ presence is often destabilizing, and finally, on the last Sunday in Epiphany tide we will glimpse, perhaps just for a minute or two, Jesus’ glorious divine nature.
Meanwhile, this week, we have jumped back into the Gospel of John. Written almost at the turn of the first millennium, the Gospel of John addressed to a Jewish Christian community in conflict with the wider Jewish community. As such, it makes many allusions to the Hebrew Scriptures, but in a symbolic way. It also presents its readers with seven key signs that help them understand Jesus’ identity as God’s Son. In Scripture weddings often symbolize the great heavenly banquet and the joy that awaits us as God’s beloved. And so, in the wonderful story of the wedding at Cana, the gospel writer provides the first signs showing that Jesus might be more than just a Galilean carpenter. Three days earlier in the narrative, Andrew had left John the Baptizer and followed after Jesus. He had then persuaded his brother Simon to join him. The next day Jesus called out Philip and Nathanael. He even promised Nathanael that he would “see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”
Did these first disciples wonder if they were on the right road, following after this strange Galilean rabbi? The events at this wedding celebration – at which they, Jesus, and Jesus’ mother all happened to be guests – gave them their first clue that Jesus had extraordinary power. They could indeed begin to hope that he might truly be the Lamb of God, as John the Baptizer had called him. They could indeed entertain the possibility that he was God’s anointed one, and that perhaps they had made the right choice in following after him. What is more important, what the disciples saw at Cana opened up the possibility for them that God lovingly embraces people and provides for them with extravagant generosity. Can you even picture the amount of water that became wine – almost 600 bottles? Does that tell you something about God’s nature?
Actually, that God might be extravagantly generous is not a new message in Scripture. Our reading from Isaiah tells us something similar. Taken from the last third of the book, this section was written to a people who have returned from seventy years of exile and are now trying to rebuild Jerusalem. Through the prophet, God promises that they will be “a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of your God.” Alluding to the joy of the participants in a wedding feast, God assures the dispirited people that the Lord delights in them and that, “just as the bridegroom rejoices in the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.” In the psalm we encounter a God at least as extravagantly generous as Jesus at Cana. God’s love is priceless and beyond human imagining, God’s righteousness cannot be scaled, and God’s justice is unfathomable. All of us will feast at the great messianic banquet . Stay with that image for a moment. Do you wonder what such a great banquet would be like? Who do you think would be seated around the table? And what did Paul tell the Corinthian Christians about the gifts of God’s spirit? That a generous Spirit had spread them around to everyone, The only condition? That they be used for the common good.
Are you getting the picture? Do the signs lead you to a different or clearer idea about Jesus and the God who sent him? If nothing else, see that the God whom we worship is not a stern lawmaker, ready to cut us off at the slightest infraction – not that recognition of our shortcomings isn’t healthy and necessary. See also that God does not need to be placated with punctilious adherence to myriad rules and observances – not that a rule of life and spiritual disciplines aren’t good. Most important, see in Jesus, and the things that he does, the extravagant, generous love of God, a love that embraces us all. And when you begin to see those signs, do what Jesus’ first disciples did: follow after him and know that you are on the right road.
So where are the signs of God’s presence in your life? Where are the signs that help you stay on the road that leads ever closer to God? Where are the signs that assure you that you are God’s beloved child – just as you are this minute? Have you seen them? Well, what do you do when you travel to a strange city? You slow down and pay attention to the green and white signs. To see the signs of God’s presence, to check whether we are still on the right road, we have to slow down a little, we have to take time, and we have to allow God the chance to get a word in edgewise. We have to pray, reflect on our lives, and take the time to express gratitude for all that God gives us.
Would you like a way to begin doing that? If you don’t already do so, take a few minutes every evening, to do a spiritual self-examination. Begin by asking God for light, for God’s light to show you your day. Then, review your day in your mind. Don’t beat yourself up for what you did or for not doing this or that. Rather, thank God for everything that has transpired, good or bad. Notice what part of your day evokes strong feelings. Pray about that. Look ahead to the next day and pray for God’s leading. Then rest in God’s presence.
My brothers and sisters, be assured that following our generous, loving God is not like driving in the U.K. Our extravagant God, who loves all of us as his beloved children, who sent Jesus to make sure we knew that, will give you the signs you need, in a language that you can understand. Even if you are driving at night in the fog, if you are open to God’s presence, God will indeed lead you.
We all need signs in the spiritual life too. I often think of the spiritual life as a journey. Sometimes on this journey, I feel as if I’m driving at night in the fog – as I recently did coming home from Columbus. Even so, more often than not, like the white edge lines on the right side of the road, God provides signs of God’s presence, and when needed, God even provides green and white highway signs to keep us going in the right direction.
We are now in the season of Epiphany. Epiphany is a season of signs. It’s a time for us to get clues as to Jesus’ identity and hints about where he may be at work. Actually, the clues and hints began at Christmas, as we remembered again the astonishing willingness of the Word to become human, of the transcendent, mysterious, unknowable God to take on human flesh inside the body of a woman and to come among us as vulnerable infant. We could meditate a lifetime on the unfathomable mystery announced in that sign! The visit of the gentile eastern astrologers, which we remembered on the day of Epiphany, reminded us that the Word had come to us for the sake of all people, not just for a chosen few. Luke’s account of Jesus’ baptism gave another sign of who this Jesus might be: one who models for us solidarity with all people, dependence on prayer, and trust in God’s affirmation. Next week, we will learn that Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s prophecies in Isaiah, the following week we will discover that Jesus’ presence is often destabilizing, and finally, on the last Sunday in Epiphany tide we will glimpse, perhaps just for a minute or two, Jesus’ glorious divine nature.
Meanwhile, this week, we have jumped back into the Gospel of John. Written almost at the turn of the first millennium, the Gospel of John addressed to a Jewish Christian community in conflict with the wider Jewish community. As such, it makes many allusions to the Hebrew Scriptures, but in a symbolic way. It also presents its readers with seven key signs that help them understand Jesus’ identity as God’s Son. In Scripture weddings often symbolize the great heavenly banquet and the joy that awaits us as God’s beloved. And so, in the wonderful story of the wedding at Cana, the gospel writer provides the first signs showing that Jesus might be more than just a Galilean carpenter. Three days earlier in the narrative, Andrew had left John the Baptizer and followed after Jesus. He had then persuaded his brother Simon to join him. The next day Jesus called out Philip and Nathanael. He even promised Nathanael that he would “see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.”
Did these first disciples wonder if they were on the right road, following after this strange Galilean rabbi? The events at this wedding celebration – at which they, Jesus, and Jesus’ mother all happened to be guests – gave them their first clue that Jesus had extraordinary power. They could indeed begin to hope that he might truly be the Lamb of God, as John the Baptizer had called him. They could indeed entertain the possibility that he was God’s anointed one, and that perhaps they had made the right choice in following after him. What is more important, what the disciples saw at Cana opened up the possibility for them that God lovingly embraces people and provides for them with extravagant generosity. Can you even picture the amount of water that became wine – almost 600 bottles? Does that tell you something about God’s nature?
Actually, that God might be extravagantly generous is not a new message in Scripture. Our reading from Isaiah tells us something similar. Taken from the last third of the book, this section was written to a people who have returned from seventy years of exile and are now trying to rebuild Jerusalem. Through the prophet, God promises that they will be “a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of your God.” Alluding to the joy of the participants in a wedding feast, God assures the dispirited people that the Lord delights in them and that, “just as the bridegroom rejoices in the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.” In the psalm we encounter a God at least as extravagantly generous as Jesus at Cana. God’s love is priceless and beyond human imagining, God’s righteousness cannot be scaled, and God’s justice is unfathomable. All of us will feast at the great messianic banquet . Stay with that image for a moment. Do you wonder what such a great banquet would be like? Who do you think would be seated around the table? And what did Paul tell the Corinthian Christians about the gifts of God’s spirit? That a generous Spirit had spread them around to everyone, The only condition? That they be used for the common good.
Are you getting the picture? Do the signs lead you to a different or clearer idea about Jesus and the God who sent him? If nothing else, see that the God whom we worship is not a stern lawmaker, ready to cut us off at the slightest infraction – not that recognition of our shortcomings isn’t healthy and necessary. See also that God does not need to be placated with punctilious adherence to myriad rules and observances – not that a rule of life and spiritual disciplines aren’t good. Most important, see in Jesus, and the things that he does, the extravagant, generous love of God, a love that embraces us all. And when you begin to see those signs, do what Jesus’ first disciples did: follow after him and know that you are on the right road.
So where are the signs of God’s presence in your life? Where are the signs that help you stay on the road that leads ever closer to God? Where are the signs that assure you that you are God’s beloved child – just as you are this minute? Have you seen them? Well, what do you do when you travel to a strange city? You slow down and pay attention to the green and white signs. To see the signs of God’s presence, to check whether we are still on the right road, we have to slow down a little, we have to take time, and we have to allow God the chance to get a word in edgewise. We have to pray, reflect on our lives, and take the time to express gratitude for all that God gives us.
Would you like a way to begin doing that? If you don’t already do so, take a few minutes every evening, to do a spiritual self-examination. Begin by asking God for light, for God’s light to show you your day. Then, review your day in your mind. Don’t beat yourself up for what you did or for not doing this or that. Rather, thank God for everything that has transpired, good or bad. Notice what part of your day evokes strong feelings. Pray about that. Look ahead to the next day and pray for God’s leading. Then rest in God’s presence.
My brothers and sisters, be assured that following our generous, loving God is not like driving in the U.K. Our extravagant God, who loves all of us as his beloved children, who sent Jesus to make sure we knew that, will give you the signs you need, in a language that you can understand. Even if you are driving at night in the fog, if you are open to God’s presence, God will indeed lead you.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Solidarity, Prayer, Love
“Now when all the people were baptized, and Jesus also had been baptized ….” What on earth was Jesus doing out there getting baptized? Herod had imprisoned his cousin John the Baptizer, so it had to have been one of John’s disciples who was actually doing it now. Why was Jesus taking the risk? Wasn’t he putting himself in danger by associating with the Baptist’s disciples? And he was a respectable carpenter. Why was he hanging out with tax collectors, prostitutes, trash collectors, liars, thieves, and other broken, marginalized people? What did he have in common with all those poor folks in the line for baptism, people who had to repent over God knows what, people who were lucky to have a cloak to throw over their tunics, and who weren’t always sure where the next meal was coming from?
Why did Trinity Episcopal Church, a small parish in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, hold a Harvest of the Arts on November 17th?1 It so happens that the rector of Trinity, the Rev. Dr. Erin Kirby, had spent the year before being named as rector in a small parish near Oxford, England. “There, she had a chance to participate in harvest celebrations – a long-standing tradition in England – and learn how congregations of all kinds can bring their ‘first fruits’ to God.” Rev. Erin wondered what the parallel might be in Shrewsbury, since it was not in an agricultural area. It also happens that Myriam, a woman from a neighboring parish, was teaching dance in Trinity’s parish hall. Myriam is from Haiti and is passionately interested in the arts. One day she told Rev. Erin that she had heard from her mother in Port-au-Prince that many schools have still not completely reopened since the devastating earthquake three years ago. Children and teachers still don’t have needed equipment or even permanent classrooms.
After much thought, prayer, and discussion, Rev. Erin, Trinity’s music director, and Myriam brought together a committee to plan a Harvest of the Arts. On the big day, a youth liturgical dance group performed in the sanctuary, the Trinity church choir sang, a Trinity parishioner organized a parents-and-kids improvisational dance workshop, and neighboring Lutherans charmed the gathering with the humor of P.D.Q. Bach. Led by a candlelight procession, people then streamed into the parish hall, where a local artists’ guild had set up a gallery. The artists agreed to donate 10% of the sale of their artwork toward the Harvest, which was earmarked for the Haitian partner of Episcopal Relief & Development. The event raised $943, a generous amount for a parish the size of Trinity. More important, the event brought together several faith communities in Shrewsbury and helped U.S. Episcopalians to strengthen their bonds with their sisters and brothers in Haiti.
“…when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying ….” Why did Luke mention that Jesus was praying after his baptism? All four of the gospels tell us that Jesus was baptized, but only Luke tells us that Jesus prayed after his baptism. And why does Luke show Jesus engaging in deep prayer seven more times – in the midst of an active and exhausting ministry? And what did Jesus have to pray about at this point? Wasn’t he the Son of God?
Not much is known about the early life of Brother Lawrence, a French Carmelite lay brother, who died in 1691 at the age of about eighty.2 Born into a working class family in French Lorraine, he served briefly in the army. Although he had no formal education, he had a profound sense of God’s power one winter day, when he contemplated a bare tree and realized that soon it would again be in full leaf. Not long thereafter he joined the Carmelite monastery in Paris, where he spent the remainder of his life, about forty years, working in the monastery kitchen. Brother Lawrence would have died in obscurity, were it for a visitor from the office of the cardinal in Paris, a M. de Beaufort. As de Beaufort spoke with Br. Lawrence, he discovered a depth of spiritual wisdom that astonished him. He began to write down his conversations with Br. Lawrence, eventually publishing them in a book entitled The Practice of the Presence of God.
The title neatly describes Br. Lawrence’s spirituality. His goal was to cultivate a sense of God’s presence with him at all times. Wherever we are, he said, whatever we are doing, we should do our work conscious of God’s loving presence. In that way, we can be in prayer or conversation with God, and all our activities become holy. Br. Lawrence thus made no distinction between traditional practices of worship – saying the daily office, receiving the sacrament – and the work that he himself was engaged in, i.e., chopping vegetables and scrubbing pots. Instead, he counseled us to make our own hearts a place for prayer, to which we could return as often as we would like. Most important, he reminded us that our sanctification does not depend on great works, but rather on grounding all that we do in our relationship with God.
While Jesus was praying, “the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’” What kind of an experience did Jesus have while he was praying? What did he learn about God and himself when he sensed God’s presence and heard God’s affirmation?
In her book Mystical Hope (Cowley Publications, 2001), Cynthia Bourgeault describes her encounter with Frère Roger Schultz, the founder of the Taizé Community.3 Taizé is an ecumenical monastic community that was founded in 1940 in the Burgundy region of France. Open to both Protestants and Catholics, it is also a pilgrimage site, especially for those who know its chant-filled worship. Bourgeault tells us of her encounter with Frère Roger in 1973, an encounter that led to her own conversion and baptism. She was then a graduate student and had gone to Riverside Church in New York City to hear Frère Roger speak. Moved by his simple words of prayer, she pushed forward with the rest of the crowd to meet him. She recalls: “As the wave of people carried me steadily toward him, my panic increased. What would I say when I actually got there? Would I try to tell him all about myself in thirty seconds? Or the opposite—would I just stand there flustered and tongue-tied, wasting his time?” As the line surged forward, she was suddenly face to face with him. And then something totally unexpected happened, something that changed her life forever. “He simply looked at me, his beautifully gentle blue eyes right on me, and asked with tenderness, ‘What is your name?’ ‘Cynthia,’ I said. ‘Oh, it is a lovely name,’ he said, and he looked deeply into me and through me, into depths I never even knew were there. For the next thirty seconds, I had his full attention – perhaps the first time this had ever happened to me in my life, the first time I had ever experienced what it means to be unconditionally loved.” Bourgeault left that encounter with her heart overflowing with hope. She was baptized the following year. She remembers, “It was nothing he said – just the power of the way he was present, his complete transparency to love” (pp. 96-97).
With Jesus, with Myriam and the folks at Trinity Church, with Brother Lawrence, with Frère Roger, and with Cynthia Bourgeault, we too have been baptized. We too have walked through the water and been anointed with the Holy Spirit. We too are called to stand in solidarity with our neighbors, with the neighbors that live across the street, with the neighbors that cycle in and out of our correctional institutions, with our Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, and atheist neighbors, with our neighbors in Haiti, and with our neighbors farther away. With Jesus, Myriam, Brother Lawrence, Frère Roger, and Cynthia Bourgeault, we too have heard the call to ground our work, our ministries, our lives, in prayer, to be conscious of God’s continuing presence with us. With Jesus, Myriam, Brother Lawrence, Frère Roger, Cynthia Bourgeault, and all who call themselves Jesus’ disciples, we too can be assured that God loves us unconditionally, that God has called us all by name, and that we are precious in God’s sight.
In a few minutes, I will invite you to come to the font. I will ask you to renew your baptismal vows. As you do so, remember your call: to solidarity with your neighbor, to prayer, and to trust in God’s love. In the end, there is no more that God asks of you.
1. This story is based on Faith Rowold, “A Harvest of the Arts, for Haiti,” at http://blog.er-d.org/ accessed January 11, 2013.
2. The following is based on Robert Ellsberg, “Brother Lawrence,” All Saints (Crossroad, 2000), 24-5.
3. This account is taken from Synthesis, January 13, 2013.
Why did Trinity Episcopal Church, a small parish in Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, hold a Harvest of the Arts on November 17th?1 It so happens that the rector of Trinity, the Rev. Dr. Erin Kirby, had spent the year before being named as rector in a small parish near Oxford, England. “There, she had a chance to participate in harvest celebrations – a long-standing tradition in England – and learn how congregations of all kinds can bring their ‘first fruits’ to God.” Rev. Erin wondered what the parallel might be in Shrewsbury, since it was not in an agricultural area. It also happens that Myriam, a woman from a neighboring parish, was teaching dance in Trinity’s parish hall. Myriam is from Haiti and is passionately interested in the arts. One day she told Rev. Erin that she had heard from her mother in Port-au-Prince that many schools have still not completely reopened since the devastating earthquake three years ago. Children and teachers still don’t have needed equipment or even permanent classrooms.
After much thought, prayer, and discussion, Rev. Erin, Trinity’s music director, and Myriam brought together a committee to plan a Harvest of the Arts. On the big day, a youth liturgical dance group performed in the sanctuary, the Trinity church choir sang, a Trinity parishioner organized a parents-and-kids improvisational dance workshop, and neighboring Lutherans charmed the gathering with the humor of P.D.Q. Bach. Led by a candlelight procession, people then streamed into the parish hall, where a local artists’ guild had set up a gallery. The artists agreed to donate 10% of the sale of their artwork toward the Harvest, which was earmarked for the Haitian partner of Episcopal Relief & Development. The event raised $943, a generous amount for a parish the size of Trinity. More important, the event brought together several faith communities in Shrewsbury and helped U.S. Episcopalians to strengthen their bonds with their sisters and brothers in Haiti.
“…when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying ….” Why did Luke mention that Jesus was praying after his baptism? All four of the gospels tell us that Jesus was baptized, but only Luke tells us that Jesus prayed after his baptism. And why does Luke show Jesus engaging in deep prayer seven more times – in the midst of an active and exhausting ministry? And what did Jesus have to pray about at this point? Wasn’t he the Son of God?
Not much is known about the early life of Brother Lawrence, a French Carmelite lay brother, who died in 1691 at the age of about eighty.2 Born into a working class family in French Lorraine, he served briefly in the army. Although he had no formal education, he had a profound sense of God’s power one winter day, when he contemplated a bare tree and realized that soon it would again be in full leaf. Not long thereafter he joined the Carmelite monastery in Paris, where he spent the remainder of his life, about forty years, working in the monastery kitchen. Brother Lawrence would have died in obscurity, were it for a visitor from the office of the cardinal in Paris, a M. de Beaufort. As de Beaufort spoke with Br. Lawrence, he discovered a depth of spiritual wisdom that astonished him. He began to write down his conversations with Br. Lawrence, eventually publishing them in a book entitled The Practice of the Presence of God.
The title neatly describes Br. Lawrence’s spirituality. His goal was to cultivate a sense of God’s presence with him at all times. Wherever we are, he said, whatever we are doing, we should do our work conscious of God’s loving presence. In that way, we can be in prayer or conversation with God, and all our activities become holy. Br. Lawrence thus made no distinction between traditional practices of worship – saying the daily office, receiving the sacrament – and the work that he himself was engaged in, i.e., chopping vegetables and scrubbing pots. Instead, he counseled us to make our own hearts a place for prayer, to which we could return as often as we would like. Most important, he reminded us that our sanctification does not depend on great works, but rather on grounding all that we do in our relationship with God.
While Jesus was praying, “the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’” What kind of an experience did Jesus have while he was praying? What did he learn about God and himself when he sensed God’s presence and heard God’s affirmation?
In her book Mystical Hope (Cowley Publications, 2001), Cynthia Bourgeault describes her encounter with Frère Roger Schultz, the founder of the Taizé Community.3 Taizé is an ecumenical monastic community that was founded in 1940 in the Burgundy region of France. Open to both Protestants and Catholics, it is also a pilgrimage site, especially for those who know its chant-filled worship. Bourgeault tells us of her encounter with Frère Roger in 1973, an encounter that led to her own conversion and baptism. She was then a graduate student and had gone to Riverside Church in New York City to hear Frère Roger speak. Moved by his simple words of prayer, she pushed forward with the rest of the crowd to meet him. She recalls: “As the wave of people carried me steadily toward him, my panic increased. What would I say when I actually got there? Would I try to tell him all about myself in thirty seconds? Or the opposite—would I just stand there flustered and tongue-tied, wasting his time?” As the line surged forward, she was suddenly face to face with him. And then something totally unexpected happened, something that changed her life forever. “He simply looked at me, his beautifully gentle blue eyes right on me, and asked with tenderness, ‘What is your name?’ ‘Cynthia,’ I said. ‘Oh, it is a lovely name,’ he said, and he looked deeply into me and through me, into depths I never even knew were there. For the next thirty seconds, I had his full attention – perhaps the first time this had ever happened to me in my life, the first time I had ever experienced what it means to be unconditionally loved.” Bourgeault left that encounter with her heart overflowing with hope. She was baptized the following year. She remembers, “It was nothing he said – just the power of the way he was present, his complete transparency to love” (pp. 96-97).
With Jesus, with Myriam and the folks at Trinity Church, with Brother Lawrence, with Frère Roger, and with Cynthia Bourgeault, we too have been baptized. We too have walked through the water and been anointed with the Holy Spirit. We too are called to stand in solidarity with our neighbors, with the neighbors that live across the street, with the neighbors that cycle in and out of our correctional institutions, with our Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, and atheist neighbors, with our neighbors in Haiti, and with our neighbors farther away. With Jesus, Myriam, Brother Lawrence, Frère Roger, and Cynthia Bourgeault, we too have heard the call to ground our work, our ministries, our lives, in prayer, to be conscious of God’s continuing presence with us. With Jesus, Myriam, Brother Lawrence, Frère Roger, Cynthia Bourgeault, and all who call themselves Jesus’ disciples, we too can be assured that God loves us unconditionally, that God has called us all by name, and that we are precious in God’s sight.
In a few minutes, I will invite you to come to the font. I will ask you to renew your baptismal vows. As you do so, remember your call: to solidarity with your neighbor, to prayer, and to trust in God’s love. In the end, there is no more that God asks of you.
1. This story is based on Faith Rowold, “A Harvest of the Arts, for Haiti,” at http://blog.er-d.org/ accessed January 11, 2013.
2. The following is based on Robert Ellsberg, “Brother Lawrence,” All Saints (Crossroad, 2000), 24-5.
3. This account is taken from Synthesis, January 13, 2013.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Sentimental and Quaint?
Do we Episcopalians “luxuriate in quaint traditions?” Have we here at St. Peter’s, become “quaint and sweet?” On New Year’s Day, Tom Ehrich, an Episcopal priest and church wellness consultant, updated his Facebook status, saying that taking down his Christmas tree, which he had just done, made him “sad.” While some people shared his feelings, others took him to task for not waiting to take down his tree until January 6th, the end of Christmas tide in the church. In response, Ehrich accused us of fixating on sentimental rituals, refusing to proclaim the good news of Christmas when people really want to hear it, i.e., before December 25th, and prolonging Christmas for twelve days after the 25th, “in order to justify a holy day once considered important.” In a time when people are dealing with all kinds of hard questions, with wars, massacres, unemployment, homelessness, and disaster, Ehrich said, we convey “sentimental softness” and worry about Kings’ cakes and trees. No wonder, he concluded, that people widely perceive us “as a self-serving assembly where people luxuriate in quaint traditions and whine when anything changes.”1
Have we become quaint and sweet? Are we dodging the hard questions in favor of sentimental feel-good rituals? Let me begin answering those questions by disentangling secular Christmas from liturgical Christmas. By secular Christmas I mean all those things we do as part of American Christmas observance that have little Christian origin or significance. You know what I’m talking about here: the holiday shopping season, that begins earlier and earlier each fall, “black Friday” and “cyber Monday,” store decorations, holiday Muzak, Christmas trees and wreaths, gifts, dinners, travel, and on and on. Actually, we haven’t been observing secular Christmas all that long – since no earlier than the latter part of the 19th century – and most of what we associate with Christmas comes from pagan sources. Even liturgical Christmas as a major celebration is relatively recent. In fact, well into the 19th century, Puritans in New England refused to celebrate it at all. Of course, no one knows when Jesus was born. The western church fixed the date as December 25th in the 4th century to correspond with the Roman celebration of the return of the sun. Even so, in the medieval church, liturgical Christmas lasted at least until Twelfth Night, i.e., today, Epiphany, or even until the Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple forty days after his birth, i.e., on February 2nd. Meanwhile, in the orthodox churches until very recently Jesus’ birth was celebrated on Epiphany, and for the Orthodox, Epiphany is still the more important festival.
So should we listen to Tom Ehrich? Should we capitulate to secular Christmas? Should we begin our celebration of Jesus’ birth the day after Thanksgiving, decorate our churches at the beginning of December, sing Christmas carols throughout the month, and toss out the tree and the poinsettias on New Year’s Day? There’s no one who would like to see this parish grow more than I would, but is chucking traditional liturgical Christmas the answer?
Perhaps we need to deepen our understanding of the meaning of liturgical Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. You may recall that in Advent we remembered that God had promised us the renewal of all creation and the restoration of peace and harmony among all peoples under the reign of Jesus. As we waited through the long days of Advent our longing for Jesus’ appearance grew deeper. Finally, on Christmas Eve, during the darkest week of the year, we could joyfully celebrate. Like the people of old who had waited so long, we could celebrate that God had entered human time and inaugurated God’s time, we could celebrate that the Word of God took on skin and moved into our neighborhood, and we could celebrate that the Light from Light blazed up in our world, never to be extinguished.
And why do we want to keep celebrating for twelve days? Because in some ways Tom Ehrich is right. The Christmas story is not a sweet, sentimental story. It has little to do with “pipers piping” or “drummers drumming.” It has little to do with when we take the tree down, or whether we make special Kings’ cakes for Epiphany. That’s because the Christmas story isn’t over when the shepherds joyfully leave the newborn baby in Luke’s story. Matthew’s version of the story of Jesus’ birth reminds us that the Christmas story is also a dark story, that Jesus was born into a world at least as dark as ours. You remember that Judea was under the thumb of the imperialist Romans. Worse, their puppet, Herod the Great, was the Saddam Hussein of his day, who clung to power by murdering his opponents, including his three sons. As we know from reading the rest of the second chapter of Matthew, after the eastern astrologers – for that’s what they were – left, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were forced to flee to Egypt. And Herod? Realizing that the astrologers had deceived him, he ordered the slaughter of all boys in Bethlehem younger than two.
And the feast of the Epiphany underscores for us that something fundamental has shifted in our dark world. In Jesus’ birth, God has begun to fulfill God’s promises. The eastern astrologers were most likely Arabs from either Arabia or the area we now call Iraq. They scanned the sky they knew so intimately and saw that something fundamental had changed. Gathering up their possessions, they began the long journey from the east, reaching Jerusalem when Jesus was a toddler. They must have been sure that the civil authorities in Jerusalem, the traditional seat of secular and religious power, were also aware of what God had done. And so they asked at Herod’s court for the location of the promised messiah. Then they took themselves to Bethlehem and offered their gifts: gold that identified the child as a king, incense to symbolize his priestly role, and myrrh to signify his death. Transformed by their encounter with the child, they headed home, careful not to divulge the holy family’s location.
And here’s the most important reason why we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany. The figures of the astrologers – who were gentiles – forcefully remind us that God’s promises extend to all people, not just to the Jews who first heard them. The promised light that has come into the world in Jesus is a light for all nations, not just for the chosen people. That is why the writer of the letter to the Ephesians, who was probably not Paul himself, could remind his readers, “The Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise of Christ Jesus through the gospel.” In this dark world, we too need to continue hearing that message: that God’s love extends to all, and that no one, because of class, gender, ethnicity, or any other category devised by humans, is separated from God’s love.
And where are we in this story? What’s our reaction to Tom Ehrich’s challenge? Do we toss out the wrappings, the trees, the poinsettias, and the decorations, and say to ourselves, “Done with that?” Do we say, “So sad, Christmas is over,” and go about business as usual? Or do we understand that we too are part of the story, that God also calls us to become wise people, to seek out the child, and to offer the child our own gifts?
The Mafa are a Christian community in Cameroon, in Africa. Some years ago, they heard today’s story of the eastern astrologers and decided to act out the story for themselves. Photographs were taken of their depiction, and then a painting of the action was created showing actual Mafa people in the various roles. The resulting painting is a wonderful reminder that all of us are part of the Epiphany story, that all of us have gifts to offer to Jesus.2
So is there a way of responding to the real needs of all of us who struggle to cope with tragedy, to all those who want real answers to hard questions? There is! Put yourself into the Mafa picture, or any picture of the Magi that you like. Remember that you like them, had a long journey filled with many questions to reach Jesus. Kneel down if you like and offer again your allegiance to him. Then open up your treasure chest and offer him your gifts. Offer him your money, your time, your gift of hospitality, your gift of organization, your gift of decoration, your gift of teaching – the world out there – and in here – needs them all. So here is my challenge to you this week. Take the Mafa picture home with you. Put it on your fridge or wherever you’ll see it. Pray with it this week. As you pray, ask God to show you what gifts you have to offer to Jesus. Sometime during this week, write down three gifts that you are ready to offer him. Then ask God to help you to use them.
Brightest and best of the stars of the morning
dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid;
star of the east, the horizon adorning,
guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
1. Tom Ehrich, “Strong Message Needed,” Church Wellness, January 2, 2013.
2. Find the Mafa painting of the Visit of the Three Wise Men at http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/diglib-viewimage.pl?SID=20130106544525146&code=act&RC=48292&Row=&code=act&return=act
Have we become quaint and sweet? Are we dodging the hard questions in favor of sentimental feel-good rituals? Let me begin answering those questions by disentangling secular Christmas from liturgical Christmas. By secular Christmas I mean all those things we do as part of American Christmas observance that have little Christian origin or significance. You know what I’m talking about here: the holiday shopping season, that begins earlier and earlier each fall, “black Friday” and “cyber Monday,” store decorations, holiday Muzak, Christmas trees and wreaths, gifts, dinners, travel, and on and on. Actually, we haven’t been observing secular Christmas all that long – since no earlier than the latter part of the 19th century – and most of what we associate with Christmas comes from pagan sources. Even liturgical Christmas as a major celebration is relatively recent. In fact, well into the 19th century, Puritans in New England refused to celebrate it at all. Of course, no one knows when Jesus was born. The western church fixed the date as December 25th in the 4th century to correspond with the Roman celebration of the return of the sun. Even so, in the medieval church, liturgical Christmas lasted at least until Twelfth Night, i.e., today, Epiphany, or even until the Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple forty days after his birth, i.e., on February 2nd. Meanwhile, in the orthodox churches until very recently Jesus’ birth was celebrated on Epiphany, and for the Orthodox, Epiphany is still the more important festival.
So should we listen to Tom Ehrich? Should we capitulate to secular Christmas? Should we begin our celebration of Jesus’ birth the day after Thanksgiving, decorate our churches at the beginning of December, sing Christmas carols throughout the month, and toss out the tree and the poinsettias on New Year’s Day? There’s no one who would like to see this parish grow more than I would, but is chucking traditional liturgical Christmas the answer?
Perhaps we need to deepen our understanding of the meaning of liturgical Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. You may recall that in Advent we remembered that God had promised us the renewal of all creation and the restoration of peace and harmony among all peoples under the reign of Jesus. As we waited through the long days of Advent our longing for Jesus’ appearance grew deeper. Finally, on Christmas Eve, during the darkest week of the year, we could joyfully celebrate. Like the people of old who had waited so long, we could celebrate that God had entered human time and inaugurated God’s time, we could celebrate that the Word of God took on skin and moved into our neighborhood, and we could celebrate that the Light from Light blazed up in our world, never to be extinguished.
And why do we want to keep celebrating for twelve days? Because in some ways Tom Ehrich is right. The Christmas story is not a sweet, sentimental story. It has little to do with “pipers piping” or “drummers drumming.” It has little to do with when we take the tree down, or whether we make special Kings’ cakes for Epiphany. That’s because the Christmas story isn’t over when the shepherds joyfully leave the newborn baby in Luke’s story. Matthew’s version of the story of Jesus’ birth reminds us that the Christmas story is also a dark story, that Jesus was born into a world at least as dark as ours. You remember that Judea was under the thumb of the imperialist Romans. Worse, their puppet, Herod the Great, was the Saddam Hussein of his day, who clung to power by murdering his opponents, including his three sons. As we know from reading the rest of the second chapter of Matthew, after the eastern astrologers – for that’s what they were – left, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were forced to flee to Egypt. And Herod? Realizing that the astrologers had deceived him, he ordered the slaughter of all boys in Bethlehem younger than two.
And the feast of the Epiphany underscores for us that something fundamental has shifted in our dark world. In Jesus’ birth, God has begun to fulfill God’s promises. The eastern astrologers were most likely Arabs from either Arabia or the area we now call Iraq. They scanned the sky they knew so intimately and saw that something fundamental had changed. Gathering up their possessions, they began the long journey from the east, reaching Jerusalem when Jesus was a toddler. They must have been sure that the civil authorities in Jerusalem, the traditional seat of secular and religious power, were also aware of what God had done. And so they asked at Herod’s court for the location of the promised messiah. Then they took themselves to Bethlehem and offered their gifts: gold that identified the child as a king, incense to symbolize his priestly role, and myrrh to signify his death. Transformed by their encounter with the child, they headed home, careful not to divulge the holy family’s location.
And here’s the most important reason why we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany. The figures of the astrologers – who were gentiles – forcefully remind us that God’s promises extend to all people, not just to the Jews who first heard them. The promised light that has come into the world in Jesus is a light for all nations, not just for the chosen people. That is why the writer of the letter to the Ephesians, who was probably not Paul himself, could remind his readers, “The Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise of Christ Jesus through the gospel.” In this dark world, we too need to continue hearing that message: that God’s love extends to all, and that no one, because of class, gender, ethnicity, or any other category devised by humans, is separated from God’s love.
And where are we in this story? What’s our reaction to Tom Ehrich’s challenge? Do we toss out the wrappings, the trees, the poinsettias, and the decorations, and say to ourselves, “Done with that?” Do we say, “So sad, Christmas is over,” and go about business as usual? Or do we understand that we too are part of the story, that God also calls us to become wise people, to seek out the child, and to offer the child our own gifts?
The Mafa are a Christian community in Cameroon, in Africa. Some years ago, they heard today’s story of the eastern astrologers and decided to act out the story for themselves. Photographs were taken of their depiction, and then a painting of the action was created showing actual Mafa people in the various roles. The resulting painting is a wonderful reminder that all of us are part of the Epiphany story, that all of us have gifts to offer to Jesus.2
So is there a way of responding to the real needs of all of us who struggle to cope with tragedy, to all those who want real answers to hard questions? There is! Put yourself into the Mafa picture, or any picture of the Magi that you like. Remember that you like them, had a long journey filled with many questions to reach Jesus. Kneel down if you like and offer again your allegiance to him. Then open up your treasure chest and offer him your gifts. Offer him your money, your time, your gift of hospitality, your gift of organization, your gift of decoration, your gift of teaching – the world out there – and in here – needs them all. So here is my challenge to you this week. Take the Mafa picture home with you. Put it on your fridge or wherever you’ll see it. Pray with it this week. As you pray, ask God to show you what gifts you have to offer to Jesus. Sometime during this week, write down three gifts that you are ready to offer him. Then ask God to help you to use them.
Brightest and best of the stars of the morning
dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid;
star of the east, the horizon adorning,
guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
1. Tom Ehrich, “Strong Message Needed,” Church Wellness, January 2, 2013.
2. Find the Mafa painting of the Visit of the Three Wise Men at http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/diglib-viewimage.pl?SID=20130106544525146&code=act&RC=48292&Row=&code=act&return=act
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