The Gospel story is not about what happened to Jesus! Did you notice? The Gospel writers, including the writer of John’s Gospel, tell us nothing about what happened to Jesus. Whatever happened to Jesus in that tomb in the garden was between him and God. Did Jesus triumphantly go down into Sheol between his crucifixion and resurrection and bring the righteous souls out, as tradition says? The Gospel writers say nothing about that either. Nevertheless, something happened that changed forever the lives of those who had known Jesus. The Gospel writers are clear about that!
Can we even begin to grasp what happened that Sunday morning? Yes, the Gospel writers tell a powerful story. But perhaps an empty tomb, folded wrappings, and angels don’t help us to grasp its impact. Perhaps we need some different images for what happened that morning. Perhaps “deep magic” was at work, as C.S. Lewis called it in The Chronicles of Narnia, a victorious, life-giving principle that existed “before the dawn of time,” and that triumphed over the evil logic that would try to murder Aslan. Or perhaps you resonate with different images. Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, says that at Easter, “we are really standing in the middle of the second ‘Big Bang,’ a tumultuous surge of divine energy as fiery and intense as the very beginning of the universe.” Perhaps the resurrection is like an explosion in the center of the earth whose unleashed energy finally erupts in a volcano. Perhaps it is like a child’s first words, after which a lifelong torrent of words comes forth. Perhaps it is like a drop of dye that colors all the liquid around it. Perhaps it is like a splash of perfume – or a pound of costly nard – whose fragrance fills the whole house.
What happened to Jesus is certainly important. Whether or not we can grasp what happened, the resurrection has a value all its own, regardless of what happened next. And yet the best way to grasp the meaning and importance of the resurrection may be to see its impact in the lives of real people. The Gospel writers do show us that: people whose lives were truly transformed by their experiences of the risen Jesus.
You can see the beginnings of that transformation right here in today’s readings. Take the Beloved Disciple. Tradition has it that Peter was middle-aged, and that the Beloved Disciple was a younger man. Can you see the Beloved Disciple, in his eagerness, sprinting ahead of Peter to the edge of the tomb? Deferring to Peter, he lets Peter go in first. Then he finally goes in himself. Miracle of miracles, he “saw and believed.” What does he believe? At this point, we can’t be sure. But we do know this: the Beloved Disciple is a model of faith throughout the Gospel of John. Perhaps, before even meeting the risen Jesus, the beloved Disciple already has an inkling of the truth of what the Scriptures and Jesus himself had foretold. And so he stands out as model of swift and genuine faith in the fulfillment of Jesus’ promises.
Perhaps some of you are like that. Perhaps you have always understood yourselves to be living a resurrection life. Perhaps you have always trusted that Jesus has conquered death. Perhaps you have always seen newness of life in times of deep grief and mourning. Perhaps you have always been able to speak the consoling word, or see the dye, or smell the perfume. Perhaps you have always been able see the fulfillment of Jesus’ promises ahead of us, like a shining city in the far distance. Blessings on you. You are truly already living in the eternal Easter tide.
But then there’s Peter. What brought him to that garden? What made him want to peer into Jesus’ tomb? He hadn’t helped to place Jesus’ body there. He had denied Jesus three times. While the beloved disciple had stood by Jesus at the cross and had received Jesus’ mother into his home, Peter, with the rest of the disciples, had run away from the cross. What makes him run so eagerly now? Jesus had called him a “rock.” Does he rush to the tomb out of a sense of responsibility for the other disciples? Or is he jealous of the Beloved Disciple? Does he feel he has to prove that he too is a faithful a disciple? Or does he feel guilty for running away and deserting Jesus in his hour of deepest need? Perhaps he is curious, or maybe even hopeful. After all, he had seen Jesus raise Lazarus. Was there a chance that the same thing had happened to Jesus? Though the Beloved Disciple outruns him, Peter enters the tomb first. He sees what his companion sees, but doesn’t know what to make of what he sees. Perhaps envious of his friend’s quick faith, he turns on his heel and quickly leaves. Only later does Peter experience the transformative power of the resurrection and understand what had happened at the empty tomb.
Many of us are like Peter. We understand well the mix of emotions he might have been feeling. We envy those whose faith is greater than ours. We know we’ve deserted Jesus time and again, and we promise over and over again to be more faithful disciples. Or we come to church on this day, or any day, out of habit or a sense of obligation. Yet perhaps – just perhaps – we are curious, even hopeful that the life-giving experiences of God’s presence and help, the touch of faith that we had in the past, just might be out there for us to experience again. It’s possible, just possible, that the resurrection is real. It’s possible, just possible too, that we, like Peter, will also be transformed by an encounter with the risen Christ. Because God knows who we are, and God is always ready to begin transforming us whenever we are ready to let God into our lives.
And then there is Mary Magdalene. With the other women, Mary remained faithful to the end. In darkness of night, in darkness of soul, she comes to the tomb grief-stricken. Having already suffered the loss of her dearest friend, at the tomb Mary suffers yet another loss, that of his body. While the men return home, Mary stays at the tomb, continuing to mourn. Sunk in grief, she isn’t thinking clearly. She doesn’t see that the figures inside the tomb are angels, and she mistakes Jesus for the caretaker of the garden. Jesus speaks her name. Then she understands exactly who he is. “Teacher,” she says. This is where Easter begins. This is where the miracle happens, when Mary encounters the living Lord and knows who he is. Suddenly she sees, suddenly she is transformed. In Jesus’ reply to her, she gets a glimpse of the great drama of which she has just become a part and of the larger story that has just begun. Transformed, she understands that she will now be living life on a different plane. She receives Jesus’ commission: “Go to my brothers and say to them….” Reluctantly, she obeys the risen Jesus and leaves him to go to the others. “I have seen the Lord,” she exultantly tells them.
And the other disciples hear and believe her. They take up Jesus’ commission. The Beloved Disciple shares his experiences of Jesus’s life in the Gospel story. Peter becomes an eloquent preacher. The Word spreads. Right down to the twenty-first century. Right down to us. The good news that Mary announced to her fellow disciples was just the beginning of the story, just the beginning of an ongoing revelation of what resurrection and all its implications mean.
The miracle continues – not in a tomb hewn out of a rock, not in a garden outside Jerusalem, but here, now, whenever we encounter the risen Lord. Like Peter, we may be faithless, cowardly, confused, or barely able to muster enough energy and hope to make it to church. Like Mary, we may be grieving all kinds of losses. Like Mary and all the disciples, we may be astounded when Jesus shows up. Yet in our encounter with Jesus, we too are changed. And we too are commissioned. That is what we celebrate today: that we too are part of that great drama, and that in it we too are being changed and transformed.
The story continues. The universe is still spreading out. Evolution did not stop with the first organism. All of creation is still growing, changing, and evolving. History did not stop with the decline of the Roman Empire. The dye is still coloring the water. The fragrance is still filling the house. The volcano is still erupting. The resurrection was not a past event that was completed 2,000 years ago. Jesus is still rising. And all humanity is rising with him. Because Jesus took our flesh as his own, his resurrection will be complete only when every human person is resurrected, only when every molecule of matter is resurrected, only when God’s gracious purpose for creation is finally realized. And it will be. Jesus’ resurrection is our sure sign. Thanks be to God.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Learn of Jesus Christ to Die
“Go to dark Gethsemane, ye that feel the tempter’s power; your Redeemer’s conflict see, watch with him one bitter hour; turn not from his griefs away, learn of Jesus Christ to pray.” So begins one of our hymnal’s most moving hymns for Holy Week. Learn of Jesus Christ to pray, and not only to pray, but to live, to suffer, and, finally to die. “Calvary’s mournful mountain climb, there, adoring at his feet, mark the miracle of time, God’s own sacrifice complete; ‘it is finished hear him cry,’ learn of Jesus Christ to die.”
Yet when we actually do climb to Calvary with the evangelists, especially with Luke, we see little of Jesus’ actual physical death. To be sure, Luke tells an important story between “they crucified Jesus there,” and “he breathed his last.” Even so, Luke provides no detail whatsoever of the agonies Jesus suffered, as he died like a common criminal. Unlike Mel Gibson in his “Passion of the Christ,” Luke’s goal is not to make me exclaim, “Thank you, Jesus, for suffering and dying for me.” Rather, Luke’s goal is to enable me to say, “Thank you, Jesus, for showing me how to live, pray, and, finally, to die.”
Long before the gospel according to Mark, the first gospel, was written, Paul wrestled with the idea of how followers of Jesus might participate in Jesus’ death and rising. In his letter to the Christians at Philippi, written not long before his own death, he admonished the disciples to “look not to your own interests but to the interests of others.” Taking up the words of what was probably a hymn, Paul charged them to “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,” who took on human form, humbled himself, and was obedient to the point of death. Paul knew that few disciples were called to be whipped, crowned with thorns, or nailed to a cross. But all of us are called to imitate Jesus in the way we live out our lives and in the way we die. All of us can follow Jesus in leaving behind our own petty concerns and in beginning the hard work of pouring ourselves out for others.
Among the evangelists, Luke gives us the clearest picture of Jesus as the man for others, Jesus as the man who maintained his love for those around him in the midst of betrayal and assault, Jesus as the man whose depth of caring extended even into his last hours. Did you get any inkling of Jesus’ care for others in the story you just heard? Even as Jesus was facing certain death following his last meal with his friends, his disciples were quarreling among themselves as to who was the greatest. You can almost hear the frustration in his voice – haven’t they gotten it yet – as he instructed them once again that, if they wanted to truly be his disciples, “the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like the one who serves.” And he reminded them of what he had shown them in his very own behavior: “I am among you as one who serves.”
As the meal progressed, Jesus predicted that Peter – Peter the lead disciple, the one who was the first to say out loud that Jesus was God’s anointed one – Peter would betray Jesus. Can you hear Peter blustering and protesting as Jesus said, “I tell you, Peter, the cock will not crow this day, until you have denied three times that you know me.” Yet, Jesus also reminded Peter that he had already prayed for him, “Simon, Simon, listen! Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your own faith may not fail….” After supper, as Jesus led his friends into the garden at Gethsemane, even as he was staring his own death in the face, he turned back to his friends and warned them to, “Pray that you may not come into the time of trial.” Shortly thereafter, even as Judas was betraying Jesus with a kiss, Jesus stretched out his hand to one of the high priest’s slaves and healed his ear.
What agonies of body and soul must Jesus have been feeling when, after having been shuffled from Pilate to Herod and back to Pilate, after hearing Pilate declare that there was not case against him, he heard the religious leaders and their cronies call for his death and knew himself finally condemned. Yet, as he trudged to Calvary, with Joseph of Arimathea and the soldiers behind him, he passed the weeping women. His head was bowed and his body weak from hunger and assault. Yet even here his heart went out to the women, and he charged them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children,” for he knew that worse things than his death were about to befall them.
The physical pain that Jesus must have suffered is unfathomable. Yet the evangelist gives us no hints of Jesus’ agony at all. Rather, from the cross comes a prayer: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Whom was he forgiving? The disciples who ran away, the Roman soldiers who carried out the execution, the Roman and Jewish leadership who condemned him? All of us forever? Did they know what they were doing? Maybe in part. But does anyone of us really know the full effects of our sins or the full damage that we do? Jesus prayed, and God’s forgiveness covered them all, as it covers all of us.
Then there is Jesus’ ministry to the other two criminals. While one of the criminals criticized Jesus for not saving himself and them, the other rebuked the first. Turning to Jesus, he voices the prayer that could be on all of our lips, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus replied? “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Even in agony, Jesus reached out. The message is clear: there is no time, there is no place, and there are no extenuating circumstances that kept him or should keep us from reaching out to another in love.
And finally Jesus’ death. Jesus models the faithful disciple for us one last time. “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” He offers back to God what he has been offering since the day he was born: his life into God’s hands. He has lived and died faithfully, proclaiming and demonstrating his complete trust in God. Do we need another lesson? Jesus has shown us how to live – for others – and how to die – in complete confidence that God will receive us.
“Calvary’s mournful mountain climb, there, adoring at his feet, mark the miracle of time, God’s own sacrifice complete; ‘it is finished hear him cry,’ learn of Jesus Christ to die.” We have walked this long journey with Jesus. We have watched him live and pray. We have watched him minister to others. We have stood at the cross with him. We have watched him die. Now we know our own call as his disciples: to live for others and to die faithfully. Are we ready to follow Jesus?
Yet when we actually do climb to Calvary with the evangelists, especially with Luke, we see little of Jesus’ actual physical death. To be sure, Luke tells an important story between “they crucified Jesus there,” and “he breathed his last.” Even so, Luke provides no detail whatsoever of the agonies Jesus suffered, as he died like a common criminal. Unlike Mel Gibson in his “Passion of the Christ,” Luke’s goal is not to make me exclaim, “Thank you, Jesus, for suffering and dying for me.” Rather, Luke’s goal is to enable me to say, “Thank you, Jesus, for showing me how to live, pray, and, finally, to die.”
Long before the gospel according to Mark, the first gospel, was written, Paul wrestled with the idea of how followers of Jesus might participate in Jesus’ death and rising. In his letter to the Christians at Philippi, written not long before his own death, he admonished the disciples to “look not to your own interests but to the interests of others.” Taking up the words of what was probably a hymn, Paul charged them to “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,” who took on human form, humbled himself, and was obedient to the point of death. Paul knew that few disciples were called to be whipped, crowned with thorns, or nailed to a cross. But all of us are called to imitate Jesus in the way we live out our lives and in the way we die. All of us can follow Jesus in leaving behind our own petty concerns and in beginning the hard work of pouring ourselves out for others.
Among the evangelists, Luke gives us the clearest picture of Jesus as the man for others, Jesus as the man who maintained his love for those around him in the midst of betrayal and assault, Jesus as the man whose depth of caring extended even into his last hours. Did you get any inkling of Jesus’ care for others in the story you just heard? Even as Jesus was facing certain death following his last meal with his friends, his disciples were quarreling among themselves as to who was the greatest. You can almost hear the frustration in his voice – haven’t they gotten it yet – as he instructed them once again that, if they wanted to truly be his disciples, “the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like the one who serves.” And he reminded them of what he had shown them in his very own behavior: “I am among you as one who serves.”
As the meal progressed, Jesus predicted that Peter – Peter the lead disciple, the one who was the first to say out loud that Jesus was God’s anointed one – Peter would betray Jesus. Can you hear Peter blustering and protesting as Jesus said, “I tell you, Peter, the cock will not crow this day, until you have denied three times that you know me.” Yet, Jesus also reminded Peter that he had already prayed for him, “Simon, Simon, listen! Satan has demanded to sift all of you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your own faith may not fail….” After supper, as Jesus led his friends into the garden at Gethsemane, even as he was staring his own death in the face, he turned back to his friends and warned them to, “Pray that you may not come into the time of trial.” Shortly thereafter, even as Judas was betraying Jesus with a kiss, Jesus stretched out his hand to one of the high priest’s slaves and healed his ear.
What agonies of body and soul must Jesus have been feeling when, after having been shuffled from Pilate to Herod and back to Pilate, after hearing Pilate declare that there was not case against him, he heard the religious leaders and their cronies call for his death and knew himself finally condemned. Yet, as he trudged to Calvary, with Joseph of Arimathea and the soldiers behind him, he passed the weeping women. His head was bowed and his body weak from hunger and assault. Yet even here his heart went out to the women, and he charged them, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children,” for he knew that worse things than his death were about to befall them.
The physical pain that Jesus must have suffered is unfathomable. Yet the evangelist gives us no hints of Jesus’ agony at all. Rather, from the cross comes a prayer: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Whom was he forgiving? The disciples who ran away, the Roman soldiers who carried out the execution, the Roman and Jewish leadership who condemned him? All of us forever? Did they know what they were doing? Maybe in part. But does anyone of us really know the full effects of our sins or the full damage that we do? Jesus prayed, and God’s forgiveness covered them all, as it covers all of us.
Then there is Jesus’ ministry to the other two criminals. While one of the criminals criticized Jesus for not saving himself and them, the other rebuked the first. Turning to Jesus, he voices the prayer that could be on all of our lips, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus replied? “Today you will be with me in paradise.” Even in agony, Jesus reached out. The message is clear: there is no time, there is no place, and there are no extenuating circumstances that kept him or should keep us from reaching out to another in love.
And finally Jesus’ death. Jesus models the faithful disciple for us one last time. “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” He offers back to God what he has been offering since the day he was born: his life into God’s hands. He has lived and died faithfully, proclaiming and demonstrating his complete trust in God. Do we need another lesson? Jesus has shown us how to live – for others – and how to die – in complete confidence that God will receive us.
“Calvary’s mournful mountain climb, there, adoring at his feet, mark the miracle of time, God’s own sacrifice complete; ‘it is finished hear him cry,’ learn of Jesus Christ to die.” We have walked this long journey with Jesus. We have watched him live and pray. We have watched him minister to others. We have stood at the cross with him. We have watched him die. Now we know our own call as his disciples: to live for others and to die faithfully. Are we ready to follow Jesus?
Sunday, March 17, 2013
An Act of Extravagant Love
Are you Mary or Judas? Frankly, at this point in the story, I’m not sure I want to be either one! We’ve shifted abruptly into the Gospel of John. We’re now about two miles from Jerusalem and a couple of days from the wrenching events that are about to take place there. Jesus has come for a last dinner party with his friends at Bethany, Lazarus, Martha, and Mary. Others of his disciples are also there, including Judas, the one who will betray him. That part of the story has yet to come, although the shadows are already present in this part. Here in this intimate scene – Jesus at table with his friends – something extraordinary happens that throws into relief two ways of relating to Jesus. Without saying a word, Lazarus’s sister, Mary, pours a huge quantity of costly ointment made from the spikenard plant onto Jesus’ feet, and then begins to wipe Jesus’ feet with her unbound hair. As we might expect, Judas criticizes Mary’s action, alluding to a duty to the poor.
In these two characters, the evangelist gives us two very different models of discipleship. Mary is our model of true discipleship, while Judas is our model of false discipleship. Consider the two of them. Mary knows what she needs to do. Though her action transgresses every social boundary – respectable women do not wipe their teacher’s feet with their hair – she knows what she must do and acts without any self-justification. She trusts that Jesus will understand her gesture and accept it for what it is – an act of love. She doesn’t worry about whether there will be enough money for ministry but offers Jesus what he most needs at this point in his journey, a demonstration of the heartfelt love that she has for him.
On the other hand, Judas does not know what to do. Can’t you imagine him awkwardly sitting somewhere at the table, knowing what he’s agreed to do and wondering what to say? He certainly doesn’t trust Jesus, and he criticizes Mary’s loving gesture. Operating out of an economy of scarcity, he models rational behavior devoid of love. It’s true that we need to provide for the poor, and the equivalent of a year’s wages could be well spent for ministry, but Judas offers Jesus nothing that comes from his heart.
So are you Mary or Judas? The truth is that most of us are both. We want to offer Jesus acts of heartfelt love, but most of the time we stand around awkwardly. At worst we know we’re about to betray Jesus. At best, we simply don’t know how to express our love to him. Yet, thanks be to God, God’s grace is sufficient for us. God’s grace embraces all of us just as we are. God’s grace is sufficient to redeem both the loving and the less loving aspects of our lives and behavior.
But our goal as followers of Jesus is always to become more like him. Our goal is always to increase our capacity to love. It takes most of us a lifetime to get there, but our goal as Jesus’ disciples is always to become more and more like Jesus and Mary and less and less like Judas. Ultimately, by God’s grace we ourselves may become capable of extravagant gestures of love. And make no mistake: Judas had it wrong. The spiritual life is never a choice between love for God and service to the poor. Rather, we are always called to be devoted to Jesus with all our heart, to regularly offer ourselves in worship, and to serve the poor with all our strength. Growth in all three is necessary for spiritual maturity. But, at the end of the day, the goal is always to get beyond our own small egos, become more like Christ, and love God and our neighbor more deeply.
What are some of the ways we “press on” to make this goal our own? If Mary is our model, then as Jesus’ friend, we must allow ourselves to experience more directly Jesus’ love for us. We must also express that love back to him. Remember that this is the Mary who plunked herself down at Jesus’ feet and let her sister fix dinner. Did Jesus rebuke her for that? Indeed not. Rather, he said, “There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” This is the same Mary too who patiently waited at Lazarus’s tomb, knowing that Jesus would come. Our life as disciples is never solely about what one writer called assensus, i.e., assenting to propositions about Jesus. Even if you understood and assented to every statement in the Nicene Creed, you would not necessarily thereby increase in spiritual maturity. Rather, if Mary is our model then our life as disciples is all about having a loving relationship with Jesus, experiencing Jesus’ love for us and expressing our love back to him. How do we do that?
Trite and tired as it sounds, regular worship is one way. When we come to worship, even if initially we come through a sense of duty or obligation, we deliberately bring ourselves into Jesus’ presence. We consciously let ourselves be enlightened by Scripture and nourished by Jesus’ Body and Blood. Ideally, our worship experience isn’t a set of rote prayers and dry formulae. Ideally, by God’s grace, something about our worship touches us, transforms us, moves us, and brings us into direct relationship with Jesus, so that we go out different people from those who came in.
Contemplative prayer is another way of pressing on toward our goal of a deeper capacity to love. For some people, praying in the presence of an icon or picture of Jesus helps them to focus on Jesus, to see a visible example of his love for us and to know him to be present to us. It’s a little like sitting with an old friend: no words are needed, just the pleasure of being together. For others, reading Scripture contemplatively is a way to experience Jesus’ love and express our own. Some people use a method of imaginatively placing themselves into a scene from Scripture – as we’ve been doing on Tuesday evenings – and feeling themselves directly interact with Jesus. Perhaps you can imagine Jesus touching you or even embracing you. Don’t you think Jesus embraced his friends at Bethany? Why not you? Other people use a lectio divina approach, meditating on a word or phrase of Scripture that especially speaks to us. Any one of these ways – and many others – allow you to experience for yourselves Jesus’ great love for you and give you opportunities to express back to Jesus your love for him. Can you take the time to put yourself in Jesus’ presence? By God’s grace the time that you spend with Jesus in prayer will be like the nard whose fragrance filled the entire house. The fragrance of your prayer time will seep into the entire rest of your day, and you will remember that, just like Mary of Bethany, you too are Jesus’ beloved friend.
Finally, serving the poor is another way in which we allow Jesus to love us and express our love for him. Jesus himself did not minister to those who were rich and powerful or to those who scrupulously observed the law. Rather, he associated with those on the margins of society, with prostitutes, tax collectors, women, and farmers, with those who were sick, disabled or possessed. At the end of Matthew’s gospel he reminded us that whenever we fed, clothed, nursed, or visited “the least of these,” we did it to him. Writing a check is fine. Churches and charities are always in a position to receive funds. But if Mary is our model, then we are also called to concrete action, to real relationships with real people who need our help. Come to Loaves and Fishes – or to any place where you are personally useful. Talk with our diners. Smile and set a plate down in front of them. Jesus will be sitting among them, taking the plate from your hand. Get out of your comfort zone, give up your apathy, and let go of your ability to turn away from the needs of others.
What is our ultimate goal? It is to live our lives so totally devoted to Christ that our love for him is more important to us than anything else in the world and to express that love to those around us. Today is coincidentally St. Patrick’s Day. More than fifteen hundred years ago, St. Patrick gave us clues about what our real goal in life should be. Some of you will recognize the words as verse 6 of the hymn commonly called “St. Patrick’s Breastplate:”
Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
Are you Mary or Judas? By God’s grace, and inspired by Mary, we are all, day by day being transformed into those who know Christ’s love without a doubt and who express it with trust and joy to him and to the world around us.
In these two characters, the evangelist gives us two very different models of discipleship. Mary is our model of true discipleship, while Judas is our model of false discipleship. Consider the two of them. Mary knows what she needs to do. Though her action transgresses every social boundary – respectable women do not wipe their teacher’s feet with their hair – she knows what she must do and acts without any self-justification. She trusts that Jesus will understand her gesture and accept it for what it is – an act of love. She doesn’t worry about whether there will be enough money for ministry but offers Jesus what he most needs at this point in his journey, a demonstration of the heartfelt love that she has for him.
On the other hand, Judas does not know what to do. Can’t you imagine him awkwardly sitting somewhere at the table, knowing what he’s agreed to do and wondering what to say? He certainly doesn’t trust Jesus, and he criticizes Mary’s loving gesture. Operating out of an economy of scarcity, he models rational behavior devoid of love. It’s true that we need to provide for the poor, and the equivalent of a year’s wages could be well spent for ministry, but Judas offers Jesus nothing that comes from his heart.
So are you Mary or Judas? The truth is that most of us are both. We want to offer Jesus acts of heartfelt love, but most of the time we stand around awkwardly. At worst we know we’re about to betray Jesus. At best, we simply don’t know how to express our love to him. Yet, thanks be to God, God’s grace is sufficient for us. God’s grace embraces all of us just as we are. God’s grace is sufficient to redeem both the loving and the less loving aspects of our lives and behavior.
But our goal as followers of Jesus is always to become more like him. Our goal is always to increase our capacity to love. It takes most of us a lifetime to get there, but our goal as Jesus’ disciples is always to become more and more like Jesus and Mary and less and less like Judas. Ultimately, by God’s grace we ourselves may become capable of extravagant gestures of love. And make no mistake: Judas had it wrong. The spiritual life is never a choice between love for God and service to the poor. Rather, we are always called to be devoted to Jesus with all our heart, to regularly offer ourselves in worship, and to serve the poor with all our strength. Growth in all three is necessary for spiritual maturity. But, at the end of the day, the goal is always to get beyond our own small egos, become more like Christ, and love God and our neighbor more deeply.
What are some of the ways we “press on” to make this goal our own? If Mary is our model, then as Jesus’ friend, we must allow ourselves to experience more directly Jesus’ love for us. We must also express that love back to him. Remember that this is the Mary who plunked herself down at Jesus’ feet and let her sister fix dinner. Did Jesus rebuke her for that? Indeed not. Rather, he said, “There is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” This is the same Mary too who patiently waited at Lazarus’s tomb, knowing that Jesus would come. Our life as disciples is never solely about what one writer called assensus, i.e., assenting to propositions about Jesus. Even if you understood and assented to every statement in the Nicene Creed, you would not necessarily thereby increase in spiritual maturity. Rather, if Mary is our model then our life as disciples is all about having a loving relationship with Jesus, experiencing Jesus’ love for us and expressing our love back to him. How do we do that?
Trite and tired as it sounds, regular worship is one way. When we come to worship, even if initially we come through a sense of duty or obligation, we deliberately bring ourselves into Jesus’ presence. We consciously let ourselves be enlightened by Scripture and nourished by Jesus’ Body and Blood. Ideally, our worship experience isn’t a set of rote prayers and dry formulae. Ideally, by God’s grace, something about our worship touches us, transforms us, moves us, and brings us into direct relationship with Jesus, so that we go out different people from those who came in.
Contemplative prayer is another way of pressing on toward our goal of a deeper capacity to love. For some people, praying in the presence of an icon or picture of Jesus helps them to focus on Jesus, to see a visible example of his love for us and to know him to be present to us. It’s a little like sitting with an old friend: no words are needed, just the pleasure of being together. For others, reading Scripture contemplatively is a way to experience Jesus’ love and express our own. Some people use a method of imaginatively placing themselves into a scene from Scripture – as we’ve been doing on Tuesday evenings – and feeling themselves directly interact with Jesus. Perhaps you can imagine Jesus touching you or even embracing you. Don’t you think Jesus embraced his friends at Bethany? Why not you? Other people use a lectio divina approach, meditating on a word or phrase of Scripture that especially speaks to us. Any one of these ways – and many others – allow you to experience for yourselves Jesus’ great love for you and give you opportunities to express back to Jesus your love for him. Can you take the time to put yourself in Jesus’ presence? By God’s grace the time that you spend with Jesus in prayer will be like the nard whose fragrance filled the entire house. The fragrance of your prayer time will seep into the entire rest of your day, and you will remember that, just like Mary of Bethany, you too are Jesus’ beloved friend.
Finally, serving the poor is another way in which we allow Jesus to love us and express our love for him. Jesus himself did not minister to those who were rich and powerful or to those who scrupulously observed the law. Rather, he associated with those on the margins of society, with prostitutes, tax collectors, women, and farmers, with those who were sick, disabled or possessed. At the end of Matthew’s gospel he reminded us that whenever we fed, clothed, nursed, or visited “the least of these,” we did it to him. Writing a check is fine. Churches and charities are always in a position to receive funds. But if Mary is our model, then we are also called to concrete action, to real relationships with real people who need our help. Come to Loaves and Fishes – or to any place where you are personally useful. Talk with our diners. Smile and set a plate down in front of them. Jesus will be sitting among them, taking the plate from your hand. Get out of your comfort zone, give up your apathy, and let go of your ability to turn away from the needs of others.
What is our ultimate goal? It is to live our lives so totally devoted to Christ that our love for him is more important to us than anything else in the world and to express that love to those around us. Today is coincidentally St. Patrick’s Day. More than fifteen hundred years ago, St. Patrick gave us clues about what our real goal in life should be. Some of you will recognize the words as verse 6 of the hymn commonly called “St. Patrick’s Breastplate:”
Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
Are you Mary or Judas? By God’s grace, and inspired by Mary, we are all, day by day being transformed into those who know Christ’s love without a doubt and who express it with trust and joy to him and to the world around us.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Ambassadors for Christ
Is anyone beyond God’s redemptive love? There’s a story told about Karl Barth, the great Swiss Reformed theologian. It is said that Barth was asked what he would say to Hitler, if he ever had a chance to meet the man who had tried to annihilate the Jews and had wreaked so much destruction on Europe. The person who asked Barth that question most likely assumed that Barth would prophetically thunder God’s vengeance against the perpetrator of so much evil. Instead, Barth replied that all he would do was to quote Romans 5:8, “The proof of God’s love is that Christ died for us even while we were sinners.” Barth knew that accusation and judgment would have provoked Hitler’s self-righteous defense and self-justification. Only the knowledge of God’s boundless mercy and forgiveness, only the good news of God’s infinite grace, could possibly have wrought a change in Hitler. Do we believe that? Could you have said what Barth said? Could you have said those words to Pol Pot or Bull Connor, to Saddam Husain or the September 11th terrorists? Can you say them to Bashar al-Assad or Jared Loughner? Can you say them to yourself? Is anyone beyond God’s mercy, forgiveness, and love?
I hope that if I were called to answer the question put to Barth – and it would be a very hard one for me – I would be able to say, “In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us…. We entreat you on behalf of Christ to be reconciled to God.” For, once we hear Paul’s statement of the good news, then we see the world and all other human beings differently. We “regard no one from a human point of view.” We understand that no one is beyond the reach of Christ. We understand that, whether we or they think so, Christ has died for all. Not some, not a chosen few, but all. Christ has died for Hitler, for Pol Pot, for Saddam Husain, for the September 11th terrorists, for Bashar al-Assad, and for us. Such is God’s infinite mercy and grace.
Is God’s grace too unbelievable? Does God’s grace offend our sense of fairness? Don’t we always expect God to mete out justice, vengeance, and punishment? Do some of us live in fear of God’s justice, or even secretly pray for God’s punishment to rain down on others?
Make no mistake. If we cannot trust in God’s mercy – for all – then we have no basis for hope of any kind. For if we give up hope for anyone’s salvation – even the most evil person we can imagine – then we give up hope for ourselves. Indeed, if we can engage in honest self-examination, or if we are fortunate enough to get a glimpse of how others see us, then we know that we are not engaging in false humility when we say to God, in the words of the old confession, “We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we from time to time most grievously have committed, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us.” Can we then hope for redemption for ourselves, while denying that others can be saved? Theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar reminds us that the church has never, in any place, declared anyone definitely to be damned – not all those consigned to Hell in Dante’s Inferno, not the killers of martyrs, not even Judas. “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,” and in Christ God has definitively demonstrated that God’s mercy extends to all.
Is that too unbelievable? Perhaps the saints among us – in whose number the church has dared to include those from “every nation, tribe, people, and language,” – are those who have accepted God’s all-inclusive grace, and are already living in that new reality. Jesus proclaimed that, “The Kingdom of God has come near.” Indeed, as members of Christ’s Body, as those who have been made new by his death and resurrection, we are living in that new realm now. Not in some life to come, but now. We are living under a new dispensation, inaugurated by Christ’s life and teaching, Christ’s death and resurrection. We are citizens of a new country, and we are ambassadors of a new way of living. God has reconciled the world to Godself, and we are called to proclaim that message of reconciliation to others.
Let’s look at that word “reconciliation.” Notice that Paul doesn’t say “sacrifice,” or “justification,” or “redemption.” “Redemption” means release from slavery. “Justification” is a legal word. Sacrifice” reminds us of rituals that have little or no meaning for us moderns. The word “reconciliation” is different. It comes from the world of international diplomacy. Elsewhere Paul uses military images and speaks in terms of spiritual warfare. Here he tells us that we are diplomats, ambassadors, and representatives of God. Now we no longer see the world in us/them terms; we look at the world as if we were diplomats, called to bring peace to a world full of conflict.
Of course, it is God who has made us citizens of a new country, it is God who has called us to be ambassadors and diplomats, it is God who has called us to be peacemakers. As one commentator tells us, “God reconciles and humanity is reconciled! For Paul it is never Jesus the loving son stepping into the gap to protect humanity from an angry father. It is God the Father who takes the initiative by sending Jesus the son to accomplish the work of reconciliation. God is not an angry tyrant “out to get us,” but one whose reconciling love has taken flesh in the life and death of Jesus.”1 It is that work of reconciling love in which we are called to participate. We are charged to be the advance guard proclaiming and showing forth the new creation and the ministry of reconciliation. As individuals, and more importantly, as the church, we are called to join the Peace Corps of God, the Red Cross of Reconciliation, and the embassy of Christ.2
Can we do that? As those who are now part of Christ’s Body, can we know ourselves to be recipients of God’s love? Do we believe that we are living in the new country that God has created? Can we share that good news with others? Are we willing to be agents of God’s love?
Where do we begin? Can we even conceive of the new creation we are called to proclaim? Perhaps we begin by attempting to see the world through God’s eyes. Such vision begins in prayer, in a way of seeing that God gives us when we pray. When we stop talking and take time for holy silence, when we open ourselves to God, we strengthen our ability to see as God sees. We begin to see all people, people nearby and people farther away, good and bad, healthy and sick, legal and illegal, addicted and clean, rich and poor, all people, indeed all creation, as reconciled to God, as beloved by God, as worthy of God’s and our forgiveness, care and concern.
When we see with God’s eyes, then we begin to have empathy. We begin to see through others’ eyes and begin to understand how the world looks to them. After that, we can begin to take concrete action. The children of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida have already begun to act as God’s agents.3 Every year during Lent, the youngest Sunday school children raise money for Episcopal Relief & Development. In 2012 they learned about malaria and raised $550 for Nets for Life. This year, the children decided to purchase a dairy cow from the ERD catalogue in order to help a family in need. They wanted to raise $630. Parents and parishioners gave them donations and cleaned out the extra change from couch cushions. The children went a step further and set up a lemonade stand to raise even more money. They encouraged members of the congregation to buy animals of their own and even set up a Noah’s Ark on the parish hall bulletin board filled with purchased animals. They hope to fill the ark by the end of Lent. “Our children continue to amaze and inspire us with their genuine desire to help others,” said Margaret Cavin, Sunday school coordinator at St. Mark’s. “I've loved hearing stories from parents about their children's efforts to raise funds. One student emptied his entire piggy bank so that he could be sure to contribute a mosquito net last year. I've already heard parents say that any bit of change found in their home or car has been scooped up and deposited in a mite box. We can't wait to see how much the children will raise!"
The children of St. Mark’s have already become ambassadors for Christ. Young as they are, they have already become emissaries of God’s love to children whose names they will never know. Can we do any less? God has decisively demonstrated God’s love for us and for all humanity. Whom are we called to embrace? To whom is this parish called to reach out in love?
1. Hulitt Gloer, “Ambassadors of Reconciliation: Paul’s Genius in Applying the Gospel in a Multi-cultural World: 2 Corinthians 5:14-21,” Review & Expositor 104, no. 3 (Summer 2007): 591, quoted in L. Susan Bond, “Fourth Sunday in Lent,” New Proclamation (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 169.
2. L. Susan Bond, ibid.
3. http://www.er-d.org/Friends-February-2013-St-Marks-Jacksonville
I hope that if I were called to answer the question put to Barth – and it would be a very hard one for me – I would be able to say, “In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us…. We entreat you on behalf of Christ to be reconciled to God.” For, once we hear Paul’s statement of the good news, then we see the world and all other human beings differently. We “regard no one from a human point of view.” We understand that no one is beyond the reach of Christ. We understand that, whether we or they think so, Christ has died for all. Not some, not a chosen few, but all. Christ has died for Hitler, for Pol Pot, for Saddam Husain, for the September 11th terrorists, for Bashar al-Assad, and for us. Such is God’s infinite mercy and grace.
Is God’s grace too unbelievable? Does God’s grace offend our sense of fairness? Don’t we always expect God to mete out justice, vengeance, and punishment? Do some of us live in fear of God’s justice, or even secretly pray for God’s punishment to rain down on others?
Make no mistake. If we cannot trust in God’s mercy – for all – then we have no basis for hope of any kind. For if we give up hope for anyone’s salvation – even the most evil person we can imagine – then we give up hope for ourselves. Indeed, if we can engage in honest self-examination, or if we are fortunate enough to get a glimpse of how others see us, then we know that we are not engaging in false humility when we say to God, in the words of the old confession, “We acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we from time to time most grievously have committed, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us.” Can we then hope for redemption for ourselves, while denying that others can be saved? Theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar reminds us that the church has never, in any place, declared anyone definitely to be damned – not all those consigned to Hell in Dante’s Inferno, not the killers of martyrs, not even Judas. “There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,” and in Christ God has definitively demonstrated that God’s mercy extends to all.
Is that too unbelievable? Perhaps the saints among us – in whose number the church has dared to include those from “every nation, tribe, people, and language,” – are those who have accepted God’s all-inclusive grace, and are already living in that new reality. Jesus proclaimed that, “The Kingdom of God has come near.” Indeed, as members of Christ’s Body, as those who have been made new by his death and resurrection, we are living in that new realm now. Not in some life to come, but now. We are living under a new dispensation, inaugurated by Christ’s life and teaching, Christ’s death and resurrection. We are citizens of a new country, and we are ambassadors of a new way of living. God has reconciled the world to Godself, and we are called to proclaim that message of reconciliation to others.
Let’s look at that word “reconciliation.” Notice that Paul doesn’t say “sacrifice,” or “justification,” or “redemption.” “Redemption” means release from slavery. “Justification” is a legal word. Sacrifice” reminds us of rituals that have little or no meaning for us moderns. The word “reconciliation” is different. It comes from the world of international diplomacy. Elsewhere Paul uses military images and speaks in terms of spiritual warfare. Here he tells us that we are diplomats, ambassadors, and representatives of God. Now we no longer see the world in us/them terms; we look at the world as if we were diplomats, called to bring peace to a world full of conflict.
Of course, it is God who has made us citizens of a new country, it is God who has called us to be ambassadors and diplomats, it is God who has called us to be peacemakers. As one commentator tells us, “God reconciles and humanity is reconciled! For Paul it is never Jesus the loving son stepping into the gap to protect humanity from an angry father. It is God the Father who takes the initiative by sending Jesus the son to accomplish the work of reconciliation. God is not an angry tyrant “out to get us,” but one whose reconciling love has taken flesh in the life and death of Jesus.”1 It is that work of reconciling love in which we are called to participate. We are charged to be the advance guard proclaiming and showing forth the new creation and the ministry of reconciliation. As individuals, and more importantly, as the church, we are called to join the Peace Corps of God, the Red Cross of Reconciliation, and the embassy of Christ.2
Can we do that? As those who are now part of Christ’s Body, can we know ourselves to be recipients of God’s love? Do we believe that we are living in the new country that God has created? Can we share that good news with others? Are we willing to be agents of God’s love?
Where do we begin? Can we even conceive of the new creation we are called to proclaim? Perhaps we begin by attempting to see the world through God’s eyes. Such vision begins in prayer, in a way of seeing that God gives us when we pray. When we stop talking and take time for holy silence, when we open ourselves to God, we strengthen our ability to see as God sees. We begin to see all people, people nearby and people farther away, good and bad, healthy and sick, legal and illegal, addicted and clean, rich and poor, all people, indeed all creation, as reconciled to God, as beloved by God, as worthy of God’s and our forgiveness, care and concern.
When we see with God’s eyes, then we begin to have empathy. We begin to see through others’ eyes and begin to understand how the world looks to them. After that, we can begin to take concrete action. The children of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida have already begun to act as God’s agents.3 Every year during Lent, the youngest Sunday school children raise money for Episcopal Relief & Development. In 2012 they learned about malaria and raised $550 for Nets for Life. This year, the children decided to purchase a dairy cow from the ERD catalogue in order to help a family in need. They wanted to raise $630. Parents and parishioners gave them donations and cleaned out the extra change from couch cushions. The children went a step further and set up a lemonade stand to raise even more money. They encouraged members of the congregation to buy animals of their own and even set up a Noah’s Ark on the parish hall bulletin board filled with purchased animals. They hope to fill the ark by the end of Lent. “Our children continue to amaze and inspire us with their genuine desire to help others,” said Margaret Cavin, Sunday school coordinator at St. Mark’s. “I've loved hearing stories from parents about their children's efforts to raise funds. One student emptied his entire piggy bank so that he could be sure to contribute a mosquito net last year. I've already heard parents say that any bit of change found in their home or car has been scooped up and deposited in a mite box. We can't wait to see how much the children will raise!"
The children of St. Mark’s have already become ambassadors for Christ. Young as they are, they have already become emissaries of God’s love to children whose names they will never know. Can we do any less? God has decisively demonstrated God’s love for us and for all humanity. Whom are we called to embrace? To whom is this parish called to reach out in love?
1. Hulitt Gloer, “Ambassadors of Reconciliation: Paul’s Genius in Applying the Gospel in a Multi-cultural World: 2 Corinthians 5:14-21,” Review & Expositor 104, no. 3 (Summer 2007): 591, quoted in L. Susan Bond, “Fourth Sunday in Lent,” New Proclamation (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), 169.
2. L. Susan Bond, ibid.
3. http://www.er-d.org/Friends-February-2013-St-Marks-Jacksonville
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Bear Fruits Worthy of Repentance
Have you ever eaten fresh figs? I don’t mean the dried figs that are common in our supermarkets. I mean a fig fresh from the tree, before it’s dried. They are tender, plump, and sweet. They’re very popular along the Mediterranean, which may explain why fig trees were also common in Tucson. We never grew figs while we lived there, but we did have a grapefruit tree, which actually produced grapefruits. Anyone who has a fruit tree of any kind, or grows the vegetables that botanically are fruits – tomatoes, eggplant, pumpkins, for example – knows that you spend a lot of time and effort helping a fruit-bearing tree or vine to flourish. There’s something else about fruits too: they are products of mature plants. Fruit trees have to reach a certain height before they begin bearing. Even when they are tall enough, or the vines are sturdy enough, the plant must bud, flower, and slowly produce the fruit out of its flower. It’s an awe-inspiring process – think about it when, in a few weeks, the trees around here begin to flower. And then remember that all the hard work and patient waiting are worth it, if the tree brings forth luscious figs, juicy grapefruits, or crisp apples.
Fruit is a wonderful spiritual image! It’s no wonder that Jesus chose to use a story about a fig tree to drive home his point about repentance, about being transformed spiritually. In using this image, Jesus was drawing on Hebrew Scripture, reminding his hearers that Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and other prophets had compared the community of Israel to a fruitful plant. Jesus’ hearers might also have remembered that his cousin John the Baptizer had shouted to the crowds who came for baptism, “Bear fruits worthy of repentance …. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Luke 3:8-9). Now Jesus is on the road to Jerusalem. His cousin is dead. Jesus knows that he himself faces certain execution in Jerusalem. So, as they travel the dusty roads to the south, Jesus begins to give his band of disciples the spiritual tools they will need to carry on without him. Someone poses a question to him about some Galilean rebels killed in a surprise attack by Pilate’s soldiers: a sad but commonplace incident under Roman rule. While his disciples might be tempted to think that those people got what they deserved, Jesus says, “No, that is not how God’s economy works.” Rather, he reminds them that none of them knows when their lives will end, nor whether they will end peacefully or violently. And so, they must earnestly engage in continued reflection, self-examination, and, where necessary, change of life.
But that’s not the end of the story. In that strange little parable about a fig tree that doesn’t bear fruit Jesus offers his disciples a word of grace. He reminds them that, even if they have been unproductive fig trees, God never gives them what they deserve. God does not abandon them or cut them down, as human rulers do. Rather, like the gardener, God always gives them a second chance. God is always willing to be patient, take extra care, or offer richer nourishment, so that they may bear the fruit they were created to bear, so that they might indeed mature into plants producing luscious figs, juicy grapefruit, crisp apples, cherries, tomatoes, or any one of millions of other fruits.
Is Jesus speaking the same words to us? On Ash Wednesday, at the beginning of the church’s retreat in the wilderness, we accepted the challenge to keep a holy Lent through engaging in self-examination and repentance. You remember that the word that gets translated as “repentance” is metanoia, which means change of direction. Certainly acknowledging all the ways in which we miss the mark is necessary for our spiritual health,. However, in Lent, we are not called to manufacture sins – which we then “confess” to God. Rather, we are called to assess our lives, to examine how we are living, how we are spending our money, with whom we are associating, what we are returning to the community, and to ponder where change of direction might be needed.
Perhaps you are struggling at home. Perhaps you hate your job. Perhaps the teens are trying to figure out what kind of life they are supposed to live. Perhaps the seniors wonder if the psalmist was really right in declaring, “They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green” (Ps.92:14). Perhaps some are wondering whether, after the wreck they have made of their lives, God could still love them.
Lent is truly the time to ask ourselves, “Where should I be bearing fruit in my life?” What fruits might God want to see us bear? For what help might we ask God, in our desire to bear richer fruit? In his letter to the contentious Christians in Galatia, Paul reminds them and us that “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” If you need a standard by which to examine your life, Galatians 5:22-23 would be a good place to start. We might also ask ourselves what fruits of ministry God might expect us to bear. Are you serving the church in any way? Praying for our parish and regularly attending worship is an important part of our ministry as Christians. Growing spiritually through prayer and formation is also part of our ministry, as is actively serving those who come through our doors. And we might ask ourselves, what fruits of service to the wider world God expects of us. Are you working in any way for a more just world, are you helping to alleviate hunger, are you part of the effort to enact sane gun laws, wider healthcare access, more effective immigration policies, appropriate aid to overseas churches and organizations? Finally, are we emulating our master in living an open and generous life, welcoming, indeed embracing, all whom we meet?
We might ask ourselves similar questions as a parish. Indeed, the fig tree is a collective image, often used in the Hebrew Scriptures to refer to Israel. What kind of fig tree are we as a parish? Are we bearing the fruit that God intends? Or do we need to pray for more help? If you are worried about the survival of St. Peter’s, are you praying that God will continue to give us a second chance, showing us how we must change?
You don’t think it’s possible to change your life? Then hear the story of Genelle Guzman-McMillan, the very last person to be rescued from the destruction of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.1 Though her right leg was crushed, Genelle received a second chance at life. Genelle had been living with her boyfriend Roger and spending her life working and going to dance clubs. She and Roger, who had been raised in church-going families, seldom awakened early enough on Sunday morning to consider attending church. Something happened to Genelle while she lay under the rubble of the Trade Center for twenty-six hours: she began to pray. She had visions of God and angels. When she awoke from sleep, she prayed some more, gradually feeling at peace. Arising again from sleep, she heard voices and knew that she was being rescued.
A few hours later in her hospital bed, Genelle told Roger of her experiences. She didn’t have a clear sense of direction, but she knew she needed to change her life. She told Roger that they needed to get married, and that they would attend the Brooklyn Tabernacle. Roger agreed, and they began planning a wedding. Genelle knows that her experience in the rubble truly transformed her. She cares much less than before about money or looking good. She refused to participate in the suits brought by other survivors. And she radiates a deep sense of peace. The designer of her wedding gown said that, “My main impression of her is really just how calm she is. You would never guess what she had been through.”
All of us have faced tragedy in our lives, but God willing, none of us will lie under rubble for twenty-six hours. Even so, God continues to give us second chances, continues to stand with us as we ponder how we might amend our lives, continues to offer us people who support us in the changes we see that we need to make. By God’s grace, this parish might be a place where we bear one another’s burdens, and where those who seek to amend their lives might be welcomed and encouraged.
“Bear fruits worthy of repentance.” Let God tend to you. By God’s grace, and with God’s help, our lives will bring forth good fruit, luscious, juicy, crisp, beautiful fruit.
1. The following is based on Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Series V, Year C (Lima: CSS, 2006), pp. 68ff. This chapter is based on John Cloud, “A Miracle’s Cost,” Time magazine, September 9, 2002.
Fruit is a wonderful spiritual image! It’s no wonder that Jesus chose to use a story about a fig tree to drive home his point about repentance, about being transformed spiritually. In using this image, Jesus was drawing on Hebrew Scripture, reminding his hearers that Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and other prophets had compared the community of Israel to a fruitful plant. Jesus’ hearers might also have remembered that his cousin John the Baptizer had shouted to the crowds who came for baptism, “Bear fruits worthy of repentance …. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire” (Luke 3:8-9). Now Jesus is on the road to Jerusalem. His cousin is dead. Jesus knows that he himself faces certain execution in Jerusalem. So, as they travel the dusty roads to the south, Jesus begins to give his band of disciples the spiritual tools they will need to carry on without him. Someone poses a question to him about some Galilean rebels killed in a surprise attack by Pilate’s soldiers: a sad but commonplace incident under Roman rule. While his disciples might be tempted to think that those people got what they deserved, Jesus says, “No, that is not how God’s economy works.” Rather, he reminds them that none of them knows when their lives will end, nor whether they will end peacefully or violently. And so, they must earnestly engage in continued reflection, self-examination, and, where necessary, change of life.
But that’s not the end of the story. In that strange little parable about a fig tree that doesn’t bear fruit Jesus offers his disciples a word of grace. He reminds them that, even if they have been unproductive fig trees, God never gives them what they deserve. God does not abandon them or cut them down, as human rulers do. Rather, like the gardener, God always gives them a second chance. God is always willing to be patient, take extra care, or offer richer nourishment, so that they may bear the fruit they were created to bear, so that they might indeed mature into plants producing luscious figs, juicy grapefruit, crisp apples, cherries, tomatoes, or any one of millions of other fruits.
Is Jesus speaking the same words to us? On Ash Wednesday, at the beginning of the church’s retreat in the wilderness, we accepted the challenge to keep a holy Lent through engaging in self-examination and repentance. You remember that the word that gets translated as “repentance” is metanoia, which means change of direction. Certainly acknowledging all the ways in which we miss the mark is necessary for our spiritual health,. However, in Lent, we are not called to manufacture sins – which we then “confess” to God. Rather, we are called to assess our lives, to examine how we are living, how we are spending our money, with whom we are associating, what we are returning to the community, and to ponder where change of direction might be needed.
Perhaps you are struggling at home. Perhaps you hate your job. Perhaps the teens are trying to figure out what kind of life they are supposed to live. Perhaps the seniors wonder if the psalmist was really right in declaring, “They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green” (Ps.92:14). Perhaps some are wondering whether, after the wreck they have made of their lives, God could still love them.
Lent is truly the time to ask ourselves, “Where should I be bearing fruit in my life?” What fruits might God want to see us bear? For what help might we ask God, in our desire to bear richer fruit? In his letter to the contentious Christians in Galatia, Paul reminds them and us that “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” If you need a standard by which to examine your life, Galatians 5:22-23 would be a good place to start. We might also ask ourselves what fruits of ministry God might expect us to bear. Are you serving the church in any way? Praying for our parish and regularly attending worship is an important part of our ministry as Christians. Growing spiritually through prayer and formation is also part of our ministry, as is actively serving those who come through our doors. And we might ask ourselves, what fruits of service to the wider world God expects of us. Are you working in any way for a more just world, are you helping to alleviate hunger, are you part of the effort to enact sane gun laws, wider healthcare access, more effective immigration policies, appropriate aid to overseas churches and organizations? Finally, are we emulating our master in living an open and generous life, welcoming, indeed embracing, all whom we meet?
We might ask ourselves similar questions as a parish. Indeed, the fig tree is a collective image, often used in the Hebrew Scriptures to refer to Israel. What kind of fig tree are we as a parish? Are we bearing the fruit that God intends? Or do we need to pray for more help? If you are worried about the survival of St. Peter’s, are you praying that God will continue to give us a second chance, showing us how we must change?
You don’t think it’s possible to change your life? Then hear the story of Genelle Guzman-McMillan, the very last person to be rescued from the destruction of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.1 Though her right leg was crushed, Genelle received a second chance at life. Genelle had been living with her boyfriend Roger and spending her life working and going to dance clubs. She and Roger, who had been raised in church-going families, seldom awakened early enough on Sunday morning to consider attending church. Something happened to Genelle while she lay under the rubble of the Trade Center for twenty-six hours: she began to pray. She had visions of God and angels. When she awoke from sleep, she prayed some more, gradually feeling at peace. Arising again from sleep, she heard voices and knew that she was being rescued.
A few hours later in her hospital bed, Genelle told Roger of her experiences. She didn’t have a clear sense of direction, but she knew she needed to change her life. She told Roger that they needed to get married, and that they would attend the Brooklyn Tabernacle. Roger agreed, and they began planning a wedding. Genelle knows that her experience in the rubble truly transformed her. She cares much less than before about money or looking good. She refused to participate in the suits brought by other survivors. And she radiates a deep sense of peace. The designer of her wedding gown said that, “My main impression of her is really just how calm she is. You would never guess what she had been through.”
All of us have faced tragedy in our lives, but God willing, none of us will lie under rubble for twenty-six hours. Even so, God continues to give us second chances, continues to stand with us as we ponder how we might amend our lives, continues to offer us people who support us in the changes we see that we need to make. By God’s grace, this parish might be a place where we bear one another’s burdens, and where those who seek to amend their lives might be welcomed and encouraged.
“Bear fruits worthy of repentance.” Let God tend to you. By God’s grace, and with God’s help, our lives will bring forth good fruit, luscious, juicy, crisp, beautiful fruit.
1. The following is based on Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Series V, Year C (Lima: CSS, 2006), pp. 68ff. This chapter is based on John Cloud, “A Miracle’s Cost,” Time magazine, September 9, 2002.
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