Who is Jesus? Who is this Galilean rabbi wandering the countryside teaching and healing? As John the Baptizer lay in Herod’s prison, he heard of what Jesus was doing. He sent his own disciples to ask, “Are you the One we’ve been expecting, or are we still waiting?” Do you remember how Jesus answered them? Jesus told them, “Go back and tell John what’s going on: the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the wretched of the earth learn that God is on their side.” Jesus then turned around and put the question to his own disciples. After asking them who other people thought he was, he looked his friends straight in the eye and said, “But who do you say that I am?” Perhaps speaking for them all, and perhaps speaking without even thinking, Peter exclaimed, “You’re the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Now, if Jesus were standing this morning where I’m standing and asked you that question, how would you answer? Do today’s lections give you any clues?
We’ve come to the very end of the church year. Next Sunday we will begin a new church year. Today we crown the church year by proclaiming that Christ is King. It’s an odd proclamation in a way. Our Scriptures are at best ambivalent about kings. Once the Israelites were settled in Canaan, they were governed by Judges. When the leaders of the people begged the prophet Samuel to anoint a king for them, he at first demurred and reminded them of all the ways that a king would tyrannize them. Nor does the proclamation of Christ as King have ancient roots. The lectionaries of previous prayer books list no such feast. Indeed, if we were still using the 1928 prayer book, today we would be observing the Sunday Next Before Advent and would be hearing the story from John’s Gospel about the feeding of the five thousand. As an observance Christ the King only dates from the Italy of 1925. Worried about the growing power of Fascism in Italy, and especially the government of Benito Mussolini, Pope Pius XI instituted the feast of Christ the King. For nations wracked by the Great War and likely facing another, the day proclaimed God’s reign over the entire world. The day also reminded Christians that their allegiance was to a divine ruler and not to earthly political leaders. In proclaiming Christ as King, we now join with Roman Catholics, as well as Lutherans, Presbyterians, and Methodists, in acknowledging the Lordship of Christ in our lives.
But if Christ is our king, of what kind of king are we the subjects? Do our texts shed any light on that question? In our reading from the prophet Jeremiah, we hear words spoken to a people in exile. Jeremiah proclaimed God’s word before and during the sacking of Jerusalem and exile of the religious and political leadership in 586 BC. Throughout his prophecy he has especially harsh words for the political leadership, castigating them for provoking the Babylonian rulers. In today’s lesson, Jeremiah compares the kings, who have brought about the disaster of exile, to bad shepherds who have not properly cared for God’s flock. After attending to the bad shepherds, God promises that the people will return to Jerusalem, to their own “fold,” and that God will send good shepherds to lead them. Speaking through Jeremiah, God makes an even more startling promise, that God will raise up from David’s line a “righteous branch,” a true king who will be wise, just, and righteous. From very early on, Christians have understood Jesus to be that “righteous branch,” that wise, just ruler.
If Jeremiah gave us God’s promises about a ruler in the earthly realm, in a restored Jerusalem, Paul, in his letter to the church at Colossae, gives a vision of Christ that unites the human dimension with the cosmic dimension. In what must have been a fragment of a hymn, he gives us a vision of the majesty of Christ, who is the very image of God, who gives coherence to the created order, and through whom God unites all people. If we are indeed subjects of such a Christ, if indeed we have been transferred out of a life of darkness into this glorious kingdom, then we are called to an absolute commitment to Christ: we either accept Christ or reject him, we either are or are not loyal to him and to no other. Neither the Colossians nor we can be spiritual consumers, picking one element from column A and another from column B, following Christ’s lead when we feel like it and the call of worldly pursuits when we don’t.
Of what kind of king are we subjects? We’ve heard Jeremiah’s vision of a righteous shepherd and Paul’s vision of a cosmic Christ who reconciles all creation within himself. Then we come to the Gospel. Wham! We have Jesus on the cross, tortured, humiliated, and executed as a criminal. Is this the picture of a king? The inscription on the cross, which is supposed to let onlookers know for what crimes the person is being executed, declares “The King of the Jews.” The soldiers declare, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.” We may be proclaiming Jesus’ absolute authority in our lives, we may be declaring ourselves to be his subjects, but for those who saw him in the flesh that day, he was anything but a king. He was powerless, his friends, except for a few stalwart women, had deserted him, and he was surrounded by a jeering crowd and brutal executioners.
What are we to make of this depiction of Jesus’ crucifixion? There’s no blood or gore in Luke’s account. But there is in Luke – and in Luke alone an – an astonishing conversation between Jesus and the second thief. “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,” the thief says. Kingdom? On the face of it, this is an absurd request. There the two of them are, stripped naked, bereft of every human relationship or possession, dragged outside the city walls, undergoing a brutally painful death, and knowing that they will be left hanging on their crosses as examples to any who would challenge the Roman rulers. And yet, astonishingly, we hear no despair or pain in this conversation. We hear talk of the future: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” “Today, you shall be with me in paradise.” Is Jesus really like one of those kings in his parables, able to show extravagant generosity to someone who asks for a boon? Does Jesus know something no one else knows? Is there more to the story than is apparent?
Perhaps. Perhaps there are a couple of clues in this story about what the kingship of Christ is really about. The first clue may be that, for now at least, his reign is hidden in suffering. He scarcely looked like a king on the day of his death, nor for most people does he appear to be one now. After centuries of ascendancy and alignment with the political powers, Christ’s cause appears to be failing. Churches have been undergoing a period of disestablishment, as theologian Douglas John Hall calls it. Church membership in Europe is virtually non-existent, and mainline denominations in this country are in serious decline. Wars stretch on and on, political leaders are assassinated, and gun violence, along with every other kind of violence, continues unabated. And yet, like the second thief on the cross, we carry a glimmer of hope. We can sense that selfishness, violence, and injustice are not the end of the story. Jesus’ answer to the thief allows us to see that eventually every knee will bow and every tongue confess that he is Lord. But for now his sovereignty is hidden in the suffering of the innocent.
And yet. Dark though this world may be, can’t we see the hidden majesty of our king for brief moments? Do we get glimpses of his mercy when someone recovers from illness? Is his grace apparent when relationships are healed, the hungry are fed, the grieving are consoled? Have we journeyed further into his kingdom when we take steps to right an injustice, make peace among those estranged, forgive each other, and allow ourselves to be forgiven? Do we walk in his footsteps when we speak a word of faith to those who are hopeless and suffering? If we strain our eyes, can we just see that there may be blessings ahead, even though the journey may be long and painful? Can we share our hope with those in despair?
Who is Jesus? Are we ready join the kingdom of the Crucified One? Are we ready to be transformed into his likeness? Can we see him already at work in the world?
Shepherd of Israel, hear our prayer,
as your Son heard the plea
of the criminal crucified with him.
Gather us into Christ's holy reign.
Gather the broken, the sorrowing, and the sinner,
that all may know
wholeness, joy, and forgiveness. Amen.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Sunday, November 17, 2013
We Too May Trust
My brothers and sisters, here is the good news, right up front. You may be thinking that there is no good news in today’s lessons, but there is. This is the good news: despite destruction and chaos, despite natural disasters and unending wars, despite personal tragedies and sorrows, we Christians can still look to the future with hope. Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection fundamentally changed history. God’s future has already been inaugurated, although we do not yet see it. We are living in the “middle time,” the time between Jesus’ resurrection and his Second Coming. Consequently, we are called to live faithfully in the present, as we press forward with the hope that our bond with God is eternal, that creation will be renewed, and that God’s future will be realized in God’s good time.
In their different ways, all our lessons lead us into a deeper understanding of that good news. Our first lesson comes from the book of the prophet Malachi. Malachi was written sometime in the late sixth century BC, after the Israelites had returned from exile in Babylon. The first temple in Jerusalem, which had been built by King Solomon, had been destroyed by the Babylonians. Although the temple now had been rebuilt, the post-exile generation was experiencing economic hardship and cultural dislocation. Earlier in Malachi’s prophecy, God takes the people to task for their inappropriate sacrifices. The people for their part complain that God neither rewards the faithful nor punishes the wicked.
Today’s lesson is Malachi’s answer to these charges. Speaking for God, the prophet looks to the future and assures his hearers that God has not forsaken God’s promises. He warns those who are unfaithful that they will be destroyed like the stubble left and burned after a harvest. We don’t know when that day will be. However, in that same future day, Malachi assures the faithful, those who have kept the covenant with God will be rewarded for their righteousness. They will be refreshed by the healing rays of the rising morning sun. Christians see these promises fulfilled in the redemption wrought by Jesus. On Christmas Eve we too will praise God as we sing, “Risen with healing in his wings, light and life to all he brings, hail, the Sun of Righteousness….”
Echoing Malachi, our psalm anticipates the fulfillment of God’s promises and celebrates God’s intervention in the world as an accomplished fact. “He remembers his mercy and faithfulness to the house of Israel, and all the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God.” God has acted, and we are filled with joy.
Paul’s second letter to the Christians in Thessaloniki extends the message of the coming of God. Written in the early 50’s most probably from Corinth, the letter is addressed to a community in disarray and conflict. The main problem was that some members of the community were so convinced that Jesus’ return was imminent that they had stopped working and were instead mooching off others and spending their days gossiping with each other. Despite being an evangelist, Paul had continued to support himself by his trade as a tentmaker. Consequently, his response to those who would harm the community through idleness and gossip is firm. In the earlier part of the letter, he assures them that Christ will indeed return. However, he is clear that we do not know either the time or the place when Jesus will return. Consequently, Paul he goes on to remind the Thessalonians that all who are able most continue to ply their trades and live quiet and orderly lives. Most important, they must not “weary in doing right.”
As we hear this portion of Paul’s letter, we need to keep in mind an important caveat. Paul is most emphatically not saying that we are to let those who are unable to work go hungry. Indeed, throughout his letters Paul emphatically urges his hearers to care for the vulnerable members of the community, to remember the widows and the orphans, the sick and disabled. Here his point is to remind his hearers not to worry about the when or where of Christ’s second coming but rather to faithfully live their lives carrying out their duties conscientiously and working to build up the Christian community.
The message of the Gospel reading is similar. There are also some things to remember about Luke’s Gospel. The first is that it was written in the early ‘80’s AD. Peter and Paul were both dead, having been executed in Rome by Nero in 64. The temple had been destroyed, along with all the rest of Jerusalem, by the Romans in 70. Persecution of the followers of Jesus was in full swing.
As you know from our reading last week, after walking from Galilee, in Luke’s narrative Jesus and his followers are now in Jerusalem. It is just days from Jesus’ death. Jesus and his friends are standing looking up at the temple. Although it is the same temple to which Malachi had referred, it had been much enlarged by Herod Antipas and was actually quite beautiful. (It is the remaining wall of this temple that survives in Jerusalem today and is known as the Wailing Wall.) In a long speech, of which we have heard only the first part and an aside, Jesus is giving his followers a glimpse of the future. After predicting the fall of the temple and of Jerusalem, he throws out a few signs that the time is near. Then he backs up and warns his followers of persecutions that will take place before the destruction of the temple. Finally, in the part we don’t hear Jesus talks again about signs of the end. He reassures his followers that they “will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.” On that day, he tells them, they are to “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
When Luke‘s hearers heard this part of the Gospel, all that they had just heard had already taken place. Consequently, their conviction that Jesus was truly a prophet was strengthened. If he was right, they might have said, about the fall of the temple and of Jerusalem, then they could also trust his predictions about his final coming to redeem his followers. More important, hearing Jesus’ words about persecution, they could be reassured that all their own suffering – and the Book of Acts, the companion to the Gospel, details many incidents of persecution of Jesus’ earliest followers – was part of the continuation of Jesus’ mission through the lives of his disciples.
Like Paul, Jesus provides no details as to when, how, or where God’s reign will be consummated or when Jesus himself will return. However, he is clear about this: we are not to obsess over his return. Rather, we are to live faithfully in the present. We are to do the work that God has given us to do. We are to speak up about our faith, and we are to grow and mature as his followers. Even in times of war and destruction, chaos and natural disaster, personal tragedy and persecution, we are to turn to Jesus, and we are to trust in God’s goodness and love towards us.
Thomas Dorsey was born in rural Georgia in 1889.1 He was an excellent gospel and blues musician and a prolific song writer. As a young man he moved to Chicago. There he played the piano in churches, clubs, and theaters. In August, 1932, he left his pregnant wife in Chicago and traveled to St. Louis where he was to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting. As he finished his first night there, he received a telegram. The telegram said simply, “Your wife has just died.” He rushed home. There he learned that his wife had given birth to a son but had died in childbirth. His son died the next day. Dorsey buried them both together in the same casket. Deeply grieving, he secluded himself and refused to see family and friends or to write any music.
Still in mourning, one day he sat down at the piano. He felt a sense of peace wash through him. He heard a new melody in his head, one he had never heard before. He began to play it on the piano. That night he testified, in the midst of deep sorrow, to his trust in Jesus’ love:
Precious Lord, take my hand,
Lead me on, let me stand;
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;
Through the storm, through the night,
Lead me on to the light;
Take my hand, precious Lord,
Lead me home.
My brothers and sisters, the good news is that we too may speak these words. We too may trust God’s promises. We too may live in hope. We too may know God’s love. We too may work for the coming of God’s reign.
1. With thanks to Nancy Lynne Westfield, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word (Louisville, Westminster John Knox, 2010), 312.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
A Call to Resurrection
Yehuda ben Yitzhak here, reporting now from Jerusalem. I’ve been following behind the itinerant Galilean rabbi, Yeshua ha Notsri, Jesus of Nazareth to you. If you’re just joining us, we’ve been walking here from Galilee. It’s been a long walk. Of course, Jesus’ healing people and stopping along the way to teach his disciples slowed us down some. We reached Jerusalem a few days ago. And what do you know? The crowds came out in droves to greet Jesus. They waved palm branches and looked like they were ready to crown him king, but he wouldn’t let them. Then when he came to the temple and saw the money-changers at their tables, Jesus got all red in the face. He started shouting, and he pushed the money off their tables. You can imagine how that went over! Since then, it’s clear that the religious establishment – to say nothing of the Roman government – has been spying on him and his followers. I think they’re looking for ways to trap him so that they can bring him up on charges – either blasphemy or fomenting rebellion, or both.
So who are these folks in the religious establishment anyway? A little background here, as we walk around Jerusalem with Jesus and his friends. Actually there are five different groups you need to know about.1 There are the temple clergy led by the high priest. They belong to the tribe of Levi and inherit their offices. Then there’s the Sanhedrin, the religious Supreme Court. They’re led by the high priest. The Sanhedrin usually has both Pharisees and Sadducees, parties who interpret Scripture differently and are both very influential among the rabbis. The Sadducees, you remember, hold only the first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures as authoritative. They don’t believe in resurrection, because it’s not mentioned in the Torah. The Pharisees, on the other hand, accept the prophets and other writings. Most people think of them as reformers. They do believe in the resurrection of the righteous, although for them the righteous are those who keep every jot and tittle of the law and who separate themselves from Gentiles as much as possible. Finally, there are the scribes, the religious lawyers. Their job is to apply the Law of Moses to everyday life.
Jesus, of course, isn’t a member of any of these parties. As far as we know, he hasn’t had any formal religious training. He’s just a hill country preacher. It’s just astounding how well he can match wits with all these religious professionals and can make the Law understandable. And of course, he’s such a popular preacher. And it doesn’t hurt that he can drive home his point with a miracle or two! The religious leaders don’t trust him – of course they’re afraid of losing their influence – and the Romans are sure he wants to stir up popular rebellion. Folks, it’s a recipe for trouble.
Oh, Jesus and his friends have stopped walking. We’ve gathered in a square by the temple. The money changers seem to have set up their tables again, and there are lots of folks milling around. First, some Pharisees ask Jesus by what authority he is teaching. Now here come some Sadducees trying to test him. Since the Sadducees don’t believe in the resurrection, their spokesman paints this ridiculous scenario about a woman having had to marry seven brothers. He probably means to ridicule those who do believe in the resurrection, but, really, what does he take Jesus for? An utter fool? Fortunately, Jesus doesn’t take the bait. He cuts right through the man’s assumptions, doesn’t he? He tells him and the other Sadducees that they don’t understand either God or the Scriptures. God is not God of the dead, God is God of the living. So everyone who is faithful to God will pass through death and, like Abraham and Moses, be united with God forever. And because they are united with God, obviously there’s no need for marriage.
Whoa! The Sadducees’ faces are bright red! That’s a stinging rebuke to those who think they are among the most respected members of the religious hierarchy. They are clearly outraged. Are they also just a little afraid of Jesus? Because the Sadducees only read part of the Scripture, they miss all the prophetic calls for justice and care for the poor. And since they don’t believe in the resurrection, or any kind of afterlife, they don’t think God will ever hold them accountable for how they live. No wonder they’re all so comfortably rich. Jesus talks a lot about caring for the poor, but these folks seem to care only about themselves. Did what Jesus just say change their mind any? I don’t know what will happen next, folks, but, you can be sure, when news breaks Yehuda ben Yitzhak will be here reporting it.
Where are we in this scene? Maybe we’re like Jesus’ friends, just tagging after him, confused and wondering what will happen next. Maybe, though, we’re not so different from the Pharisees and Sadducees. Maybe we’re like the Pharisees. Maybe we believe that all God wants of us is that we be good, decent folks and live a pure and personally upright life. Go to church, read the Bible, tithe, pray seven times a day, don’t cheat on our spouses or drink too much. Never mind those poor people who are too lazy to work and would rather live on government handouts. Never mind those of other faiths – they’re doomed. If we keep ourselves pure we’ll be saved.
In this country, perhaps we’re more like the Sadducees. Maybe we hear only the parts of Scripture that we want to hear. Maybe we miss the parts about caring for the widow and orphan, about making just provision for the alien in our midst, about pursuing peace, about caring for creation, about loving one another. Franciscan spiritual teacher Richard Rohr reminds us that page after page of the Gospels call us to “the work of justice and generosity toward the poor and the outsider.” Yet “most Christians have indeed been ‘cafeteria Christians’ when it comes to this. Usually they will markedly emphasize something else (often a sexual issue) to divert attention from what Jesus did not divert attention from.”2 Perhaps, like the Sadducees, we also think that we won’t be held accountable by God for how we’ve lived our lives, for “what we’ve done and left undone,” for “the evil we have done and the evil done on our behalf.”
Jesus has called us to lives that are better and richer. For us, to postpone accountability is to postpone discipleship. Heaven and hell are not something we experience only after death. We experience heaven and hell right here in this world, in our daily lives, through our choices to listen for God’s voice or ignore it, to love others or to isolate ourselves, to pursue justice, to care for those in need. Perhaps like the Sadducees, we let our wealth numb our consciences and blind us to the needs of others. While reassuring us that we are God’s forever, Jesus calls us to open our eyes and look around. Jesus calls us to read all of Scripture and to understand God’s preference for the poor and marginalized. Jesus calls us to give up our trust in following myriad rules of personal purity. Jesus calls us to give up our belief that it doesn’t matter how we live our lives. Jesus calls us to begin seeing our neighbors, all our neighbors, and all of creation through God’s eyes and to begin partnering with God in realizing God’s future.
Most of all, Jesus calls us to believe in resurrection, to believe that God has and will overcome every negation, including the ultimate negation of death. Because Jesus has risen we will rise because of him. Because Jesus has risen we can hope and trust in the future. Because Jesus has risen, we can experience resurrection here and now. And how do we experience that resurrection? When we see the poor lifted up out of poverty, when we see those who are lonely restored to community, when we see those who are sick brought back to life, when we raise our own voices against violence and injustice. Resurrection means feeding the hungry and housing the homeless, it means visiting those in prison and witnessing to the good news not only with our lips but with our lives. While we wait for the one who has died and risen, so that we too may experience full life with God, we are to press forward, devoting ourselves, our time, our talent, and whatever treasure we have, to sharing with others the experience of resurrection.
My sisters and brothers, this is the good news. Jesus has revealed to us a God who profoundly loves all of us, who calls us into a resurrection life of both deeper relationship and more faithful service, and who assures us that once we are joined to God our connection with God will never be broken. Thanks be to God.
1. With thanks to Pat Marrin, Celebration, Nov. 10, 2013 for much of the following.
2. Daily Meditation, Nov. 7, 2013 (electronic message).
So who are these folks in the religious establishment anyway? A little background here, as we walk around Jerusalem with Jesus and his friends. Actually there are five different groups you need to know about.1 There are the temple clergy led by the high priest. They belong to the tribe of Levi and inherit their offices. Then there’s the Sanhedrin, the religious Supreme Court. They’re led by the high priest. The Sanhedrin usually has both Pharisees and Sadducees, parties who interpret Scripture differently and are both very influential among the rabbis. The Sadducees, you remember, hold only the first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures as authoritative. They don’t believe in resurrection, because it’s not mentioned in the Torah. The Pharisees, on the other hand, accept the prophets and other writings. Most people think of them as reformers. They do believe in the resurrection of the righteous, although for them the righteous are those who keep every jot and tittle of the law and who separate themselves from Gentiles as much as possible. Finally, there are the scribes, the religious lawyers. Their job is to apply the Law of Moses to everyday life.
Jesus, of course, isn’t a member of any of these parties. As far as we know, he hasn’t had any formal religious training. He’s just a hill country preacher. It’s just astounding how well he can match wits with all these religious professionals and can make the Law understandable. And of course, he’s such a popular preacher. And it doesn’t hurt that he can drive home his point with a miracle or two! The religious leaders don’t trust him – of course they’re afraid of losing their influence – and the Romans are sure he wants to stir up popular rebellion. Folks, it’s a recipe for trouble.
Oh, Jesus and his friends have stopped walking. We’ve gathered in a square by the temple. The money changers seem to have set up their tables again, and there are lots of folks milling around. First, some Pharisees ask Jesus by what authority he is teaching. Now here come some Sadducees trying to test him. Since the Sadducees don’t believe in the resurrection, their spokesman paints this ridiculous scenario about a woman having had to marry seven brothers. He probably means to ridicule those who do believe in the resurrection, but, really, what does he take Jesus for? An utter fool? Fortunately, Jesus doesn’t take the bait. He cuts right through the man’s assumptions, doesn’t he? He tells him and the other Sadducees that they don’t understand either God or the Scriptures. God is not God of the dead, God is God of the living. So everyone who is faithful to God will pass through death and, like Abraham and Moses, be united with God forever. And because they are united with God, obviously there’s no need for marriage.
Whoa! The Sadducees’ faces are bright red! That’s a stinging rebuke to those who think they are among the most respected members of the religious hierarchy. They are clearly outraged. Are they also just a little afraid of Jesus? Because the Sadducees only read part of the Scripture, they miss all the prophetic calls for justice and care for the poor. And since they don’t believe in the resurrection, or any kind of afterlife, they don’t think God will ever hold them accountable for how they live. No wonder they’re all so comfortably rich. Jesus talks a lot about caring for the poor, but these folks seem to care only about themselves. Did what Jesus just say change their mind any? I don’t know what will happen next, folks, but, you can be sure, when news breaks Yehuda ben Yitzhak will be here reporting it.
Where are we in this scene? Maybe we’re like Jesus’ friends, just tagging after him, confused and wondering what will happen next. Maybe, though, we’re not so different from the Pharisees and Sadducees. Maybe we’re like the Pharisees. Maybe we believe that all God wants of us is that we be good, decent folks and live a pure and personally upright life. Go to church, read the Bible, tithe, pray seven times a day, don’t cheat on our spouses or drink too much. Never mind those poor people who are too lazy to work and would rather live on government handouts. Never mind those of other faiths – they’re doomed. If we keep ourselves pure we’ll be saved.
In this country, perhaps we’re more like the Sadducees. Maybe we hear only the parts of Scripture that we want to hear. Maybe we miss the parts about caring for the widow and orphan, about making just provision for the alien in our midst, about pursuing peace, about caring for creation, about loving one another. Franciscan spiritual teacher Richard Rohr reminds us that page after page of the Gospels call us to “the work of justice and generosity toward the poor and the outsider.” Yet “most Christians have indeed been ‘cafeteria Christians’ when it comes to this. Usually they will markedly emphasize something else (often a sexual issue) to divert attention from what Jesus did not divert attention from.”2 Perhaps, like the Sadducees, we also think that we won’t be held accountable by God for how we’ve lived our lives, for “what we’ve done and left undone,” for “the evil we have done and the evil done on our behalf.”
Jesus has called us to lives that are better and richer. For us, to postpone accountability is to postpone discipleship. Heaven and hell are not something we experience only after death. We experience heaven and hell right here in this world, in our daily lives, through our choices to listen for God’s voice or ignore it, to love others or to isolate ourselves, to pursue justice, to care for those in need. Perhaps like the Sadducees, we let our wealth numb our consciences and blind us to the needs of others. While reassuring us that we are God’s forever, Jesus calls us to open our eyes and look around. Jesus calls us to read all of Scripture and to understand God’s preference for the poor and marginalized. Jesus calls us to give up our trust in following myriad rules of personal purity. Jesus calls us to give up our belief that it doesn’t matter how we live our lives. Jesus calls us to begin seeing our neighbors, all our neighbors, and all of creation through God’s eyes and to begin partnering with God in realizing God’s future.
Most of all, Jesus calls us to believe in resurrection, to believe that God has and will overcome every negation, including the ultimate negation of death. Because Jesus has risen we will rise because of him. Because Jesus has risen we can hope and trust in the future. Because Jesus has risen, we can experience resurrection here and now. And how do we experience that resurrection? When we see the poor lifted up out of poverty, when we see those who are lonely restored to community, when we see those who are sick brought back to life, when we raise our own voices against violence and injustice. Resurrection means feeding the hungry and housing the homeless, it means visiting those in prison and witnessing to the good news not only with our lips but with our lives. While we wait for the one who has died and risen, so that we too may experience full life with God, we are to press forward, devoting ourselves, our time, our talent, and whatever treasure we have, to sharing with others the experience of resurrection.
My sisters and brothers, this is the good news. Jesus has revealed to us a God who profoundly loves all of us, who calls us into a resurrection life of both deeper relationship and more faithful service, and who assures us that once we are joined to God our connection with God will never be broken. Thanks be to God.
1. With thanks to Pat Marrin, Celebration, Nov. 10, 2013 for much of the following.
2. Daily Meditation, Nov. 7, 2013 (electronic message).
Sunday, November 3, 2013
A Great Cloud of Witnesses
Who are the saints? Are they those shadowy figures from a distant past, the ones depicted with glowing haloes in medieval paintings and Orthodox icons? Are they the ones officially declared as saints by the Roman Catholic Church, or the ones deemed worthy by the Episcopal Church of inclusion in Holy Women, Holy Men? Who are they, and why should we even think about them? When we have any number of sports heroes and headline-grabbing celebrities, why do we even need saints?
In 1373 in Norwich, England, a thirty-year old woman lay mortally ill. The parish priest placed a crucifix on her chest. All of a sudden she had an intense vision of Jesus on the cross. She immediately began to recover. As she recovered she had more visions. She decided to dedicate her life to trying to understand the gift that God had given her. By her own request, and with the permission of her bishop, she was enclosed in a small room on the side of the Church of St. Julian. The room had a window and a small door that led into the church, through which she could hear mass and receive communion. It also had a small window that face the churchyard, through which she could offer spiritual direction to others. With the help of a monk, she wrote up brief versions of her initial visions. She continued to meditate on her visions, and at some point wrote longer, more detailed versions of them. It is thought that she died about 1415 and may be buried near the church where she lived.
We don’t know much about Julian of Norwich, as she came to be called. We ourselves may not feel called to lead an anchorite’s life, as Julian and others like her felt called to do. But we can still read Julian’s book, either in the 15th century English in which she wrote or in modern English. Through Julian’s colorful and detailed visions, we get a glimpse of the reality of the Trinity, and we learn the importance of single-minded devotion to God. We come to know Jesus as our loving Mother, and we realize that we are first and foremost God’s most beloved children. We discover – if we don’t already know it – that we may – and do – sin, but, broken, dusty, and lost as we may be, we can never lose God’s love.
A century after Julian’s death, a thirty-nine year unhappy Spanish Carmelite sister also looked at a crucifix. Immediately she felt disgusted at how idly she and her fellow sisters lived and at how dull and lackadaisical their spiritual lives had become. She vowed to devote herself more seriously to a life of prayer. She then almost instantly had a deep sense of God’s love, almost lighting her up and transforming her from deep within her soul. She decided to found a new reformed community of Carmelite nuns, who would live simply, on alms and the work of their own hands, and maintain a rigorous rule of prayer. She went on to found sixteen other communities in Spain. As her prayer life continued to deepen, she had many other mystical experiences. In an age when few women wrote, she instructed her fellow sisters in the journey towards union with God in a book titled in English The Interior Castle. She also wrote an autobiography, and left a collection of mystical poetry.
We may not feel called to follow Teresa of Avila into a Carmelite convent. The Interior Castle is not easy reading. Nevertheless Teresa also has much to teach us. She stresses our need to know ourselves, both our strengths and our weaknesses. She reassures us that God is always with us. Consequently, she also emphasizes the importance of regular disciplines of prayer, even as she assures us that, “Prayer … is nothing but friendly intercourse, and frequent solitary converse, with Him who we know loves us.” Most important, Teresa also gently reminds us that attention to prayer and service of others are not mutually exclusive. Rather, prayer and service are integral to each other. All prayer must eventually lead to good works, Teresa tells us, while our service of others must be grounded in our prayer. Ultimately, we are called to be both mystics and prophets.
Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove knows well the fundamental connection between prayer and service of others. Not long ago, padding around the first floor of his house on a cold, dark night, he heard feet shuffling at his door and an insistent knock.1 Jonathan lives with his family in Walltown, a neighborhood in west Durham, North Carolina, in an intentional community called Rutba House. The house is named after a place in Iraq, where Jonathan and his wife had experienced hospitality while traveling as witnesses for peace. The front door knocker is engraved with the words, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” For the last ten years, Rutba House has been offering hospitality to all comers. Some stay for a few days, some move in virtually permanently. Some were once homeless. Some are fleeing abusive partners, some come straight from prison, and some are suffering from PTSD. Some are former drug addicts seeking a fresh start.
Sometimes Jonathan and his family get discouraged. They know they can’t help all in need. They know that some take their hospitality and their spare change and go out for another fix or another drink. As he listened to the knocking Jonathan knew that it could be Jesus knocking. It could also be drunken Greg, or Larry trying to sell him a stolen toaster, or Patrice wanting respite from her loudmouth husband. He knew that sometimes miracles happen, but sometimes they don’t. Ten years’ worth of stories flashed through his mind as he stood in his kitchen waiting. Another knock. He thought, “Is this Jesus, a guide from beyond, come to save me, however inconvenient his timing may be? Or is it the beginning of another long night in the ER?” He went to the door. He went to the door, he says, “because the Jesus I want to know is the Jesus who comes knocking at midnight, bringing his tired and homeless friends with him.”
A little after midnight, about four years ago, Steve Stone, the pastor of Heartsong Church in Cordova, Tennessee, received a telephone call from a group of Muslims in Kashmir, Pakistan.2 They had been watching CNN when a story about Heartsong Church aired. They were dumbfounded at what they saw. Pastor Stone had discovered that the Memphis Islamic Center had bought land next door to the church. Did he rush to the city council and protest the plans for an Islamic Center next door, as pastors in other cities had done? No. Pastor Stone put up a large red sign in front of his church that read, “Heartsong Church Welcomes Memphis Islamic Center to the Neighborhood.” The local Muslim leaders were astounded. They had hoped that their coming might be ignored. They never ever thought that they might be welcomed. They met with Pastor Stone. The two communities came to know each other. Children began to play with each other, and adults shared meals. They talked about their respective faiths with each other. While the Islamic Center was under construction, Heartsong allowed the Muslims to hold Ramadan prayer services in their sanctuary. They began to plan joint ministries to feed the homeless and tutor local children.
CNN picked up the story. The cooperation and mutual respect demonstrated by the two faith communities stood in sharp contrast to the controversy around the so-called “Ground Zero mosque” and the threatened burnings of the Qur’an that were dominating the news. As the Pakistani Muslims heard the CNN story, one man said, “I think God is speaking to us through this man.” Another man went right to the little Christian church near their mosque and proceeded to clean it, both inside and out with his own hands.
Who are the saints? They are Julian and other mystics. They are Teresa and others who have sought union with God through contemplative prayer. They are Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove and all those who extend the hand of hospitality to those on the margins of polite society. They are Steve Stone and all those who take seriously Jesus’ command to love our neighbors as ourselves. They are all those who know themselves beloved by God and who strive to make God’s love real in the world. They are all those who inspire us and model for us the many ways of following Jesus.
As baptized members of Christ’s Body, we too are called to follow Jesus. We too are called to holy living. We too are called to prayer and holy silence. We too are called to welcome the stranger. We too are called to share God’s love with all our neighbors.
Almighty God, you have surrounded us with a great cloud of witnesses: Grant that we, encouraged by the good examples of all your servants, may persevere in running the race that is set before us, until at last we may with them attain to your eternal joy; through Jesus Christ, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever.
1. “School for Conversion,” October 18, 2013.
2. Jim Wallis, On God's Side, (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2013), 138-9.
In 1373 in Norwich, England, a thirty-year old woman lay mortally ill. The parish priest placed a crucifix on her chest. All of a sudden she had an intense vision of Jesus on the cross. She immediately began to recover. As she recovered she had more visions. She decided to dedicate her life to trying to understand the gift that God had given her. By her own request, and with the permission of her bishop, she was enclosed in a small room on the side of the Church of St. Julian. The room had a window and a small door that led into the church, through which she could hear mass and receive communion. It also had a small window that face the churchyard, through which she could offer spiritual direction to others. With the help of a monk, she wrote up brief versions of her initial visions. She continued to meditate on her visions, and at some point wrote longer, more detailed versions of them. It is thought that she died about 1415 and may be buried near the church where she lived.
We don’t know much about Julian of Norwich, as she came to be called. We ourselves may not feel called to lead an anchorite’s life, as Julian and others like her felt called to do. But we can still read Julian’s book, either in the 15th century English in which she wrote or in modern English. Through Julian’s colorful and detailed visions, we get a glimpse of the reality of the Trinity, and we learn the importance of single-minded devotion to God. We come to know Jesus as our loving Mother, and we realize that we are first and foremost God’s most beloved children. We discover – if we don’t already know it – that we may – and do – sin, but, broken, dusty, and lost as we may be, we can never lose God’s love.
A century after Julian’s death, a thirty-nine year unhappy Spanish Carmelite sister also looked at a crucifix. Immediately she felt disgusted at how idly she and her fellow sisters lived and at how dull and lackadaisical their spiritual lives had become. She vowed to devote herself more seriously to a life of prayer. She then almost instantly had a deep sense of God’s love, almost lighting her up and transforming her from deep within her soul. She decided to found a new reformed community of Carmelite nuns, who would live simply, on alms and the work of their own hands, and maintain a rigorous rule of prayer. She went on to found sixteen other communities in Spain. As her prayer life continued to deepen, she had many other mystical experiences. In an age when few women wrote, she instructed her fellow sisters in the journey towards union with God in a book titled in English The Interior Castle. She also wrote an autobiography, and left a collection of mystical poetry.
We may not feel called to follow Teresa of Avila into a Carmelite convent. The Interior Castle is not easy reading. Nevertheless Teresa also has much to teach us. She stresses our need to know ourselves, both our strengths and our weaknesses. She reassures us that God is always with us. Consequently, she also emphasizes the importance of regular disciplines of prayer, even as she assures us that, “Prayer … is nothing but friendly intercourse, and frequent solitary converse, with Him who we know loves us.” Most important, Teresa also gently reminds us that attention to prayer and service of others are not mutually exclusive. Rather, prayer and service are integral to each other. All prayer must eventually lead to good works, Teresa tells us, while our service of others must be grounded in our prayer. Ultimately, we are called to be both mystics and prophets.
Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove knows well the fundamental connection between prayer and service of others. Not long ago, padding around the first floor of his house on a cold, dark night, he heard feet shuffling at his door and an insistent knock.1 Jonathan lives with his family in Walltown, a neighborhood in west Durham, North Carolina, in an intentional community called Rutba House. The house is named after a place in Iraq, where Jonathan and his wife had experienced hospitality while traveling as witnesses for peace. The front door knocker is engraved with the words, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” For the last ten years, Rutba House has been offering hospitality to all comers. Some stay for a few days, some move in virtually permanently. Some were once homeless. Some are fleeing abusive partners, some come straight from prison, and some are suffering from PTSD. Some are former drug addicts seeking a fresh start.
Sometimes Jonathan and his family get discouraged. They know they can’t help all in need. They know that some take their hospitality and their spare change and go out for another fix or another drink. As he listened to the knocking Jonathan knew that it could be Jesus knocking. It could also be drunken Greg, or Larry trying to sell him a stolen toaster, or Patrice wanting respite from her loudmouth husband. He knew that sometimes miracles happen, but sometimes they don’t. Ten years’ worth of stories flashed through his mind as he stood in his kitchen waiting. Another knock. He thought, “Is this Jesus, a guide from beyond, come to save me, however inconvenient his timing may be? Or is it the beginning of another long night in the ER?” He went to the door. He went to the door, he says, “because the Jesus I want to know is the Jesus who comes knocking at midnight, bringing his tired and homeless friends with him.”
A little after midnight, about four years ago, Steve Stone, the pastor of Heartsong Church in Cordova, Tennessee, received a telephone call from a group of Muslims in Kashmir, Pakistan.2 They had been watching CNN when a story about Heartsong Church aired. They were dumbfounded at what they saw. Pastor Stone had discovered that the Memphis Islamic Center had bought land next door to the church. Did he rush to the city council and protest the plans for an Islamic Center next door, as pastors in other cities had done? No. Pastor Stone put up a large red sign in front of his church that read, “Heartsong Church Welcomes Memphis Islamic Center to the Neighborhood.” The local Muslim leaders were astounded. They had hoped that their coming might be ignored. They never ever thought that they might be welcomed. They met with Pastor Stone. The two communities came to know each other. Children began to play with each other, and adults shared meals. They talked about their respective faiths with each other. While the Islamic Center was under construction, Heartsong allowed the Muslims to hold Ramadan prayer services in their sanctuary. They began to plan joint ministries to feed the homeless and tutor local children.
CNN picked up the story. The cooperation and mutual respect demonstrated by the two faith communities stood in sharp contrast to the controversy around the so-called “Ground Zero mosque” and the threatened burnings of the Qur’an that were dominating the news. As the Pakistani Muslims heard the CNN story, one man said, “I think God is speaking to us through this man.” Another man went right to the little Christian church near their mosque and proceeded to clean it, both inside and out with his own hands.
Who are the saints? They are Julian and other mystics. They are Teresa and others who have sought union with God through contemplative prayer. They are Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove and all those who extend the hand of hospitality to those on the margins of polite society. They are Steve Stone and all those who take seriously Jesus’ command to love our neighbors as ourselves. They are all those who know themselves beloved by God and who strive to make God’s love real in the world. They are all those who inspire us and model for us the many ways of following Jesus.
As baptized members of Christ’s Body, we too are called to follow Jesus. We too are called to holy living. We too are called to prayer and holy silence. We too are called to welcome the stranger. We too are called to share God’s love with all our neighbors.
Almighty God, you have surrounded us with a great cloud of witnesses: Grant that we, encouraged by the good examples of all your servants, may persevere in running the race that is set before us, until at last we may with them attain to your eternal joy; through Jesus Christ, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever.
1. “School for Conversion,” October 18, 2013.
2. Jim Wallis, On God's Side, (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2013), 138-9.
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