“Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee: Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty, God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!” What a grand old hymn – one of my favorites for this day. Lutherans sing it, as do Presbyterians and many others. It was written by English priest and missionary bishop Reginald Heber, who was born in 1783 and died in India in 1826. Heber actually wrote more than fifty hymns during his life, of which four others besides this one are in our hymnal, but this one is probably his best known.
But why are we singing this grand old hymn at all? What on earth are we celebrating today? We’re halfway through the church year. In the first half of the year, from Advent to Pentecost, our Sundays mark events in the life of Jesus: his birth, his discovery by gentiles, his baptism, his ministry, his death, his resurrection, and, finally, his gift of the Holy Spirit. Tomorrow we begin the second half of the church year. Episcopalians call this time, “Sundays after Pentecost.” Roman Catholics and others call this “ordinary time.” However we name it, this second half of the year is a time of spiritual growth, a time in which we support each other in strengthening our bonds to God and serving the world.
Today we stand poised between the two halves of our year, celebrating not an event, or even a holy person, but an idea. Today is the only day in the church year when we are asked to pay attention to a paradox, the “mystery of faith”: that the God whom we worship is a Trinity, one God in three “persons.” From the time that the framers of the Nicene Creed agreed on its wording in the fourth century – and maybe even before that – the church has been wrestling with this mystery. The number of treatises and books about the Trinity would fill this sanctuary. I myself spent a semester in seminary reading some of them, but I’m not going to treat you to a learned disquisition on the Trinity – or impress you with all the wonderful Greek words I learned to describe it. I will leave that to the theologians! Of course, even for the most learned theologians, God is still ultimately a mystery. Try as we might to find words to describe our experiences of God, God will always be, in Walter Brueggemann’s phrase, “One who is other than us.”
Even so, we still feel compelled to use this language of “trinity.” After the events of Jesus’ life, after his death and resurrection, and after the coming of the Holy Spirit, Christians began to try to put words to what they had discovered about God through these events. Since Greek was the common language of the early church, they used Greek words to express their new understanding. One of the words they used is translated into English as “person.” Hence, “God in three persons, blessed Trinity.” Now the word “person” is problematic for us, since in modern English, “person” connotes a distinct individual. So, do we believe in three Gods, as some think? Barry Howard suggests that it might be helpful to think about the three ways of experiencing God as three divine roles, rather than distinct personalities.1 He turns to Marcus Borg, who reminds us that the word translated as “person” originally meant a mask, i.e., a mask worn by an actor in a Greek theater that identifies the character that the actor is playing. Thinking about God this way, we realize that we know God in three different ways: as God the Source of All Being, as God the Word made flesh in Jesus, and as God the abiding Spirit. Since God is one personality, one God behind the three masks, these three roles are in complete unity with each other and eternally interact with each other in complete love.
These roles are all analogies to be sure, but perhaps they are not totally incomprehensible to us. God the Source of All Being, is God the Creator, the unknowable origin of all that is, God beyond all gender, beyond all attributes that we can think of, God who gave birth to all creation. This is the God of Genesis and most of the rest of the Hebrew Bible. This is the God who spoke to Moses, whose name could only be rendered as “I Am Who I Am,” or “I Will Be Who I Will Be.” Every culture has a creation story, for we instinctively realize that some other power besides ourselves must be the source of all life. Even scientists, who relentlessly probe the origin of the universe, and who have given us the Big Bang as a plausible explanation, admit that ultimately the source of matter, the source of the laws of the cosmos, and the source of the principle of evolution by which the development of life on earth been guided, is still a mystery.
God the Incarnate Word, God the Word made Flesh, is a little more familiar to us, since, as Christians, our central claim is that God the Word deigned to take human form in Jesus of Nazareth. As all the Gospels assert, and especially the Gospel according to John, which we heard through Eastertide, Jesus is God with skin on. Indeed many of us are so aware of Jesus’ divinity that we often find it hard to reckon with Jesus’ humanity. Next week we return to readings from the Gospel according to Luke. As you hear them, try to remember that the Word made Flesh was truly both, Word and Flesh.
God the Holy Spirit is perhaps the least known to us. Unlike the Eastern Church, the Western Church scarcely mentions the Holy Spirit after the day of Pentecost itself. And yet in some ways it is God the Holy Spirit who is most central to our lives as followers of Jesus. For in essence the Holy Spirit is God within us, inspiring and empowering us in our attempts to live out our faith. The idea of God within us is not something that Christians invented. The Hebrew Bible is full of examples of God’s Spirit at work within either individuals or the community. Here’s just one example: in the midst of exile, the prophet Isaiah reminds his people that, “Though YHWH may give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide from you anymore; your eyes will see your Teacher. And when you turn to the right and when you turn to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way – walk in it’” (30:20-21, The Inclusive Bible).
What Christians discovered after Jesus left them – and here is the really good news – is that Jesus did not leave them alone. They discovered that God the Spirit is now within us, within us as individual disciples of Jesus, and, what is more important, within the community of the followers of Jesus. As Jesus promised his friends after his last meal with them, and as his friends discovered, either on Easter Even or Pentecost, depending on whether you read John or Acts, God the Holy Spirit now resides within the church, within the community of believers. We do not flounder about on our own. Indeed, the Holy Spirit works within us just as Jesus would if he were still physically present to us. The Holy Spirit brings God’s care and compassion for us into our midst. Through the Holy Spirit we come, as individuals and as a body, to deeper understanding of who Jesus is and who we are called to be as his disciples. Sanctification, i.e., perfection in holiness, both for individuals and the church as a body, is still an ongoing process, is still unfinished. God still “has yet more truth to reveal.” It is God the Holy Spirit who continues to guide us, to teach us, to inspire us to do things we never thought possible, and to lead us into an ever-deepening relationship with God.
Are there ways to glimpse the Holy Spirit at work among us? Last week we exuberantly celebrated the Spirit’s power to upend us by wearing red, sporting fancy hats, singing “Happy Birthday” to the church, and being a little bit silly. Yes, the Spirit does call us to joy and energy, to singing, dancing, hugging, shouting, and proclaiming, as she did among Jesus’ first friends. But we can also begin to notice the Spirit at work among us in daily prayer, in being still, in silently listening for the Spirit’s faint notes. This week, take a few minutes in your own prayer to silently reflect on ways you have sensed the Spirit at work in your life. Take a few minutes in silence in church to reflect on how the Spirit has guided the life of this parish.
In the end, we run out of words in the face of the ineffable mystery of God. As we acknowledge our limited understanding of God’s true nature, of the reality and meaning of the Trinity, we can still join hands in the Spirit. We can still draw nearer to God together. We can still grow in our understanding of God’s purposes and strengthen our bonds with each other. We can still cry, “Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! All thy works shall praise thy name, in earth, and sky, and sea; Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty, God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!”
1. “Reflections on the Lectionary, Christian Century, 130, 10, May 15, 2013, p. 21.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Come, Holy Spirit
(From the back of the Church) What are you waiting for? Jesus’ disciples were waiting and wondering. What are you waiting for?
There they were, gathered in Jerusalem. There they were, waiting, waiting, patiently waiting. Jesus had told them to wait. Most of them had seen him after he’d been raised from the dead. Some of them had been with him ten days ago, when he was taken up from them, when he’d told them to go back to Jerusalem to wait. Just before leaving them, he’d reminded them that he would send them what the Father had promised them. He reminded them that John had baptized them with water, but that they would be baptized with the Holy Spirit. He told them that they would be his witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. They prayed in the temple, they chose another leader of their group to replace Judas, and they waited. Now it was fifty days after Passover. It was the day of Pentecost, one of the three great Jewish festivals. It was the day when, as Jews, they’d offered the first fruits of their harvest to God, and they’d celebrated God’s gift of the Law, the Torah, on Mt. Sinai. Now they were all together, perhaps 120 of them, the twelve and all those others, some women, some men, some younger, some older. Probably even some kids. Perhaps they were gathered in someone’s courtyard after their temple worship.
They were good Jews who knew their Scripture. They knew about the fire on Mt. Sinai when Moses received the law. Perhaps some of them remembered the other times God came to people in fire: when God sealed the covenant with Abraham; when God spoke to Moses out of the burning bush; when the Pillar of fire led the people through the desert; when the angel purified Isaiah’s lips with a burning coal as God commissioned Isaiah to be a prophet.
Perhaps some others remembered how God came to people as wind: how the east wind sent by God allowed the people to cross the Sea of Reeds from Egypt; how God spoke to Job out of the whirlwind; how Elijah was taken up to heaven in a whirlwind. In their temple worship perhaps they had heard the lector read the passage telling of Ezekiel’s vision of how God commanded the four winds to breathe new life into the dry bones of the house of Israel. And they all knew the psalms. Perhaps they sang the psalm we said today. Perhaps they remembered that God sends forth God’s spirit and creates the entire world, that God continually renews the face of the earth. As they sat there, perhaps they remembered Jesus’ that he had made when he was at dinner with them for the last time, his promise that, because he was going away from them, he would send a Paraclete, a helper, to guide them and lead them into all truth.
And then it happened! They felt something like a great rush of wind. As they looked at each other, they all seemed to be on fire! They knew that God was with them, and that Jesus’ promises had come true. They rushed out of the courtyard and starting addressing the people who had gathered round, people from all over the Jewish Diaspora, who had come to Jerusalem to worship on Pentecost. They were empowered! They were filled with the Holy Spirit! They were out there laughing and dancing, hugging, and singing. They spoke in new languages. They might have been Galileans, but they could talk about God’s mighty acts in Jesus to everyone, whoever they were! And then Peter gave a wonderful sermon, telling how they were all doing what the prophet Joel had promised they would, explaining that it was God’s Spirit through Jesus crucified and risen who was empowering them. After it was all over, 3,000 people believed Peter and were baptized!
Could such an event happen again? Did it ever happen again? It did, believe it! The Holy Spirit was there when St Francis heard Jesus’ command to rebuild his church, and when Julian had her visions, lying, as she thought, mortally ill. Don’t you think the Holy Spirit was there when John Wesley felt his heart “strangely warmed” at the Aldersgate meeting? The Holy Spirit was certainly present to Zilpha Elaw, an African American Methodist preacher. Zilpha was 27 when the Spirit literally knocked her down at a camp meeting in 1817. Lying on the ground she felt her own spirit ascend to heaven and a voice assuring her that she was sanctified. After she recovered from her vision, she began to lead those around her in prayer.
Could such an outpouring of the Spirit happen here? Like the disciples, we’re all gathered together. We’ve heard readings from the Scripture. We’re singing songs and praying. We’ve been hearing all these fifty days again what it means to be disciples of a risen Lord. We’ve heard Jesus’ promises. We know about the Holy Spirit. What are we waiting for? Are we sitting on our hands waiting for throngs of new people to find their way through the red doors? Wait a minute. Suddenly we too feel something like a mighty wind blowing through us. In the sanctuary the light fixtures begin to shake, the wonderful old windows begin to rattle, and we worry about the stained glass. The electric power flickers, and we feel caught up in something mighty and overpowering. We feel as if fire is coursing through us. We want to shout out loud. We want to dance and sing. We want to shout, “Hallelujah!” Then we rush out through the doors and run down to the park. There’s a crowd gathered out there, people from all over, black and white, rich and poor, young and old, native-born and immigrants. They’re just milling around, as if they’re waiting for something to happen. We start talking to them about Jesus! Some of them think we’re drunk – perhaps we’ve had too much of that Episcopal communion wine -- but others get it! The church is alive, and they want to join it! And they do, hundreds of them! The pastors can’t keep up!
Can’t happen here, you say? Not so. The Holy Spirit doesn’t work that way anymore? Yes, she does! Believe it! The Holy Spirit is still very much alive in our churches, in us as the priesthood of all believers, in us who were sealed with the Spirit in baptism and born anew. She has changed our born flesh with her touch, and she is still leading us into all truth. She is still calling us to be prophets. She is still teaching us how to proclaim the good news of God’s love for us and God’s promises of renewal for all creation. She is still sending us out into the world to tell everyone that God’s kingdom has come near, that God’s future has broken into our present, and that we have a glimpse of that future in Jesus and in the communities gathered in Jesus’ name. She is still sending us out to remind people that God is remaking the world, and that we are empowered to share with God in God’s great work. She is still teaching us not to be “however” people: people who see, for example that children are hungry and say, “However, we can’t….” The Holy Spirit is teaching us to be “therefore” people: people who see that children are hungry and say, “Therefore, let’s….”
And our churches are reborn. Wherever we gather, to hear Scripture read, to pray with every fiber of our being, to sing with all the fullness of our hearts, to thank God for God’s great gifts to us, to share God’s love with those around us, whenever we trust God to do more than we can ask or imagine, there the Spirit joins with us, renewing and rebirthing us. And we cry out, O come, Holy Spirit, move us, blow us away, make us laugh, shout, dance, sing, speak, preach, make us joyfully seize your presence among us.
“We name you wind, power, force, and then,
Imaginatively, “Third Person.”
We name you and you blow…
blow hard,
blow cold,
blow hot,
blow strong,
blow gentle,
blow new…
Blowing the world out of nothing to abundance,
blowing the church out of despair to new life,
blowing little David from shepherd boy to messiah,
blowing to make things new that never were.
So blow this day, wind,
Blow here and there, power,
Blow even us, force,
Rush us beyond ourselves,
Rush us beyond our hopes,
Rush us beyond our fears, until we enact your newness in the world.
Come, come spirit. Amen.”1
1. Walter Brueggemann, Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press), 2003, p.167.
There they were, gathered in Jerusalem. There they were, waiting, waiting, patiently waiting. Jesus had told them to wait. Most of them had seen him after he’d been raised from the dead. Some of them had been with him ten days ago, when he was taken up from them, when he’d told them to go back to Jerusalem to wait. Just before leaving them, he’d reminded them that he would send them what the Father had promised them. He reminded them that John had baptized them with water, but that they would be baptized with the Holy Spirit. He told them that they would be his witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. They prayed in the temple, they chose another leader of their group to replace Judas, and they waited. Now it was fifty days after Passover. It was the day of Pentecost, one of the three great Jewish festivals. It was the day when, as Jews, they’d offered the first fruits of their harvest to God, and they’d celebrated God’s gift of the Law, the Torah, on Mt. Sinai. Now they were all together, perhaps 120 of them, the twelve and all those others, some women, some men, some younger, some older. Probably even some kids. Perhaps they were gathered in someone’s courtyard after their temple worship.
They were good Jews who knew their Scripture. They knew about the fire on Mt. Sinai when Moses received the law. Perhaps some of them remembered the other times God came to people in fire: when God sealed the covenant with Abraham; when God spoke to Moses out of the burning bush; when the Pillar of fire led the people through the desert; when the angel purified Isaiah’s lips with a burning coal as God commissioned Isaiah to be a prophet.
Perhaps some others remembered how God came to people as wind: how the east wind sent by God allowed the people to cross the Sea of Reeds from Egypt; how God spoke to Job out of the whirlwind; how Elijah was taken up to heaven in a whirlwind. In their temple worship perhaps they had heard the lector read the passage telling of Ezekiel’s vision of how God commanded the four winds to breathe new life into the dry bones of the house of Israel. And they all knew the psalms. Perhaps they sang the psalm we said today. Perhaps they remembered that God sends forth God’s spirit and creates the entire world, that God continually renews the face of the earth. As they sat there, perhaps they remembered Jesus’ that he had made when he was at dinner with them for the last time, his promise that, because he was going away from them, he would send a Paraclete, a helper, to guide them and lead them into all truth.
And then it happened! They felt something like a great rush of wind. As they looked at each other, they all seemed to be on fire! They knew that God was with them, and that Jesus’ promises had come true. They rushed out of the courtyard and starting addressing the people who had gathered round, people from all over the Jewish Diaspora, who had come to Jerusalem to worship on Pentecost. They were empowered! They were filled with the Holy Spirit! They were out there laughing and dancing, hugging, and singing. They spoke in new languages. They might have been Galileans, but they could talk about God’s mighty acts in Jesus to everyone, whoever they were! And then Peter gave a wonderful sermon, telling how they were all doing what the prophet Joel had promised they would, explaining that it was God’s Spirit through Jesus crucified and risen who was empowering them. After it was all over, 3,000 people believed Peter and were baptized!
Could such an event happen again? Did it ever happen again? It did, believe it! The Holy Spirit was there when St Francis heard Jesus’ command to rebuild his church, and when Julian had her visions, lying, as she thought, mortally ill. Don’t you think the Holy Spirit was there when John Wesley felt his heart “strangely warmed” at the Aldersgate meeting? The Holy Spirit was certainly present to Zilpha Elaw, an African American Methodist preacher. Zilpha was 27 when the Spirit literally knocked her down at a camp meeting in 1817. Lying on the ground she felt her own spirit ascend to heaven and a voice assuring her that she was sanctified. After she recovered from her vision, she began to lead those around her in prayer.
Could such an outpouring of the Spirit happen here? Like the disciples, we’re all gathered together. We’ve heard readings from the Scripture. We’re singing songs and praying. We’ve been hearing all these fifty days again what it means to be disciples of a risen Lord. We’ve heard Jesus’ promises. We know about the Holy Spirit. What are we waiting for? Are we sitting on our hands waiting for throngs of new people to find their way through the red doors? Wait a minute. Suddenly we too feel something like a mighty wind blowing through us. In the sanctuary the light fixtures begin to shake, the wonderful old windows begin to rattle, and we worry about the stained glass. The electric power flickers, and we feel caught up in something mighty and overpowering. We feel as if fire is coursing through us. We want to shout out loud. We want to dance and sing. We want to shout, “Hallelujah!” Then we rush out through the doors and run down to the park. There’s a crowd gathered out there, people from all over, black and white, rich and poor, young and old, native-born and immigrants. They’re just milling around, as if they’re waiting for something to happen. We start talking to them about Jesus! Some of them think we’re drunk – perhaps we’ve had too much of that Episcopal communion wine -- but others get it! The church is alive, and they want to join it! And they do, hundreds of them! The pastors can’t keep up!
Can’t happen here, you say? Not so. The Holy Spirit doesn’t work that way anymore? Yes, she does! Believe it! The Holy Spirit is still very much alive in our churches, in us as the priesthood of all believers, in us who were sealed with the Spirit in baptism and born anew. She has changed our born flesh with her touch, and she is still leading us into all truth. She is still calling us to be prophets. She is still teaching us how to proclaim the good news of God’s love for us and God’s promises of renewal for all creation. She is still sending us out into the world to tell everyone that God’s kingdom has come near, that God’s future has broken into our present, and that we have a glimpse of that future in Jesus and in the communities gathered in Jesus’ name. She is still sending us out to remind people that God is remaking the world, and that we are empowered to share with God in God’s great work. She is still teaching us not to be “however” people: people who see, for example that children are hungry and say, “However, we can’t….” The Holy Spirit is teaching us to be “therefore” people: people who see that children are hungry and say, “Therefore, let’s….”
And our churches are reborn. Wherever we gather, to hear Scripture read, to pray with every fiber of our being, to sing with all the fullness of our hearts, to thank God for God’s great gifts to us, to share God’s love with those around us, whenever we trust God to do more than we can ask or imagine, there the Spirit joins with us, renewing and rebirthing us. And we cry out, O come, Holy Spirit, move us, blow us away, make us laugh, shout, dance, sing, speak, preach, make us joyfully seize your presence among us.
“We name you wind, power, force, and then,
Imaginatively, “Third Person.”
We name you and you blow…
blow hard,
blow cold,
blow hot,
blow strong,
blow gentle,
blow new…
Blowing the world out of nothing to abundance,
blowing the church out of despair to new life,
blowing little David from shepherd boy to messiah,
blowing to make things new that never were.
So blow this day, wind,
Blow here and there, power,
Blow even us, force,
Rush us beyond ourselves,
Rush us beyond our hopes,
Rush us beyond our fears, until we enact your newness in the world.
Come, come spirit. Amen.”1
1. Walter Brueggemann, Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press), 2003, p.167.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
That They May Be One
The film “Chocolat” tells the poignant story of Vianne, a single mother, who arrives during Lent in 1959 in a rigidly traditional French village. Despite the villagers’ commitment to Lenten fasting and self-denial, Vianne, a chocolatier, sets up a small shop and begins to introduce the villagers to the delights of chocolate. During the course of the story, Vianne befriends the wife of a brutal alcoholic, welcomes a group of river gypsies who camp nearby, endures the hostility of the mayor, and faces down the alcoholic husband when he threatens to destroy her shop. Towards the end of the film, as Easter approaches, Vianne resolves to leave the village. However, when a group of villagers shares with her their gratitude for her generosity and open heart, she changes her mind. As if affirming her decision, in his Easter sermon, the young priest Pere Henri tells the villagers, “ I want to talk about Christ’s humanity, I mean how he lived his life on earth: his kindness, his tolerance. We must measure our goodness, not by what we resist, or whom we exclude. Instead, we should measure ourselves by what we embrace, what we create, and whom we include.”
“Whom we include.” We are coming to the end of Easter tide. The feast of the Ascension this past Thursday reminded us that Jesus, while no longer physically present to us, is now present to us in a way that transcends time and space. Pentecost, when we joyously celebrate God’s gift of the Holy Spirit, is still ahead of us. During this Easter tide, in our Scripture readings we have been pondering all the ways in which Christ’s resurrection makes a difference in our lives. Today, in our reading from John’s gospel, we hear Jesus’ very last words to us before his acceptance of crucifixion and death. Having washed his friends’ feet and eaten dinner with them, Jesus has instructed them about how to continue their lives together without him. He has given them his peace, he has commanded them to love each other as he has loved them, and he has reminded them that he is the vine, and they are the branches. Now he concludes his after dinner speech with a prayer: a prayer for them, and through them, for every community of disciples that will come into being after his resurrection.
In this prayer Jesus is no longer speaking with his friends. He is not commanding them to do anything. Indeed, he has already given them a new commandment. Here Jesus is in communion with his Father, and he is expressing to his Father his deepest desires for his friends and, by extension, for us. If you read all of Jesus’ prayer in chapter 17 of John’s gospel, you may find it convoluted and hard to follow. Although Jesus seems to be circling around his requests, at least one of Jesus’ requests to God on behalf of his friends stands out clearly: that “they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be completely one….”
What is this oneness for which Jesus prays on our behalf? I believe that we can think about this oneness along three dimensions: oneness with God, oneness with each other, and oneness in service to the world. It’s almost like the sign of the Cross, isn’t it? As Jesus’ friends, as members of his Body, we are already in this life united with God. Oneness with God is not something we strive for, it is something we already have. We can begin to experience this oneness with God in our own personal prayer time. As we sit in stillness, waiting in silence on God, as we voice to God our deepest aspirations for those we care about, as we share with God our grief and frustrations, as we ponder our day and thank God for God’s gifts to us, God may grace us with a sense of union with God, and we may know more surely that we are and have never been anything but God’s beloved children.
We appropriate even more surely our oneness with God when we approach God together with our fellow disciples. Deepening our own personal relationship with Jesus is certainly an important part of maturing as disciples. Yet our personal relationship with God is never the end of Christian life. The Christian life is never solely about “me and sweet Jesus.” We have been baptized into Christ’s Body. As members of Christ’s Body, we are also called to pray and worship together. Believe it or not, even silent prayer is deeper and richer when done together with others in a praying community. As members of the Episcopal Church we are especially called to corporate worship, as we pray from a book of common prayer, a book intended for all. Figuratively, if not literally, as Anglicans we stand around the table together. We know that whatever divides us, together we worship God. And we sense more deeply our oneness with God as all of us together partake of the one bread and drink from the one cup.
The second dimension of oneness Jesus prays that we will experience is oneness with each other. It is ironic – or perhaps prescient – that the writer of John’s gospel should have Jesus offer this prayer, as the community to which John was writing was deeply divided. Nevertheless, here Jesus prays that we will recognize, as members of Christ’s Body, our fundamental oneness with each other. On the parish level, we understand ourselves to be part of a community that supports its members both spiritually and pastorally and whose invitation is open to all. Indeed, a parish our size cannot afford the luxury of conflict and schism, but, rather, is called to graciously include all who come through the red doors – or even the glass doors. Our Common Ministry team has recognized our desire to live into our oneness as a community. For that reason, the team has surveyed our gifts and strengths as a parish, begun the Second Sunday potlucks, and suggested a gala celebration next week for Pentecost.
Our oneness with fellow disciples extends beyond the parish. As Episcopalians we are also part of a diocese, the Diocese of Southern Ohio, which is made up of 25,000 people who attend eighty different parishes in the southern half of the state. This past Wednesday we received a powerful reminder of our oneness with the rest of the diocese, as representatives from five parishes from different parts of the diocese gathered to induct new members of the Society of St. Simeon and St. Anna, including our own Alice and Jimmy Salyer. We are also members of the wider Episcopal Church in the United States. Last month, I was graced to experience our ties to the Church of the Resurrection, the parish on Long Island that has been adding children’s clothes and equipment to our diaper distribution program. Through our ecumenical efforts here at home and through the Anglican Communion, the World Council of Churches, and other church bodies, we are reminded of our oneness with all our sisters and brothers in Christ. Our oneness with fellow Christians even transcends time and space, as we know ourselves to be surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, fellow disciples in the communion of saints, who have gone before us as members of Christ’s Body.
Finally, in his great priestly prayer, Jesus prays that we will experience oneness with those whom we serve, those to whom we give sacrificially of ourselves, as he gave himself for us. When we are at our best, we experience that sense of oneness with those whom we serve at the Loaves and Fishes dinner. We don’t just tolerate our diners. We don’t just welcome them. We invite them, and we embrace them as God’s children, sisters and brothers for whom Christ died, sisters and brothers who are as beloved of God as we are. We are also at one with those whom we serve farther away. When Hurricane Sandy destroyed homes, businesses, and churches six months ago, many dioceses and individual parishes understood their oneness with east coast communities and stepped in with aid. The Episcopal dioceses of Easton, New Jersey, Newark, New York, and Long Island are among those who are even now generously helping impacted communities recover from the devastation. As many of you know well, our oneness with our fellow human beings extends well beyond our borders. Our care and concern for others transcends lines of faith communities and ultimately national boundaries. In the Episcopal Church, for example, the diocese of Atlanta has played a major part in the fight against malaria, both historically in the United States and now as a major force in the Nets for Life Inspiration Fund, the church-wide, grassroots effort of Episcopal Relief and Development to raise awareness and support for malaria prevention.
“We’re all just walking each other home,” says American spiritual teacher Ram Dass. As we go, Jesus prays that we will turn no one away, and that we will walk hand in hand, one with God, one with each other, and one in service to all who need our love and care.
“Whom we include.” We are coming to the end of Easter tide. The feast of the Ascension this past Thursday reminded us that Jesus, while no longer physically present to us, is now present to us in a way that transcends time and space. Pentecost, when we joyously celebrate God’s gift of the Holy Spirit, is still ahead of us. During this Easter tide, in our Scripture readings we have been pondering all the ways in which Christ’s resurrection makes a difference in our lives. Today, in our reading from John’s gospel, we hear Jesus’ very last words to us before his acceptance of crucifixion and death. Having washed his friends’ feet and eaten dinner with them, Jesus has instructed them about how to continue their lives together without him. He has given them his peace, he has commanded them to love each other as he has loved them, and he has reminded them that he is the vine, and they are the branches. Now he concludes his after dinner speech with a prayer: a prayer for them, and through them, for every community of disciples that will come into being after his resurrection.
In this prayer Jesus is no longer speaking with his friends. He is not commanding them to do anything. Indeed, he has already given them a new commandment. Here Jesus is in communion with his Father, and he is expressing to his Father his deepest desires for his friends and, by extension, for us. If you read all of Jesus’ prayer in chapter 17 of John’s gospel, you may find it convoluted and hard to follow. Although Jesus seems to be circling around his requests, at least one of Jesus’ requests to God on behalf of his friends stands out clearly: that “they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be completely one….”
What is this oneness for which Jesus prays on our behalf? I believe that we can think about this oneness along three dimensions: oneness with God, oneness with each other, and oneness in service to the world. It’s almost like the sign of the Cross, isn’t it? As Jesus’ friends, as members of his Body, we are already in this life united with God. Oneness with God is not something we strive for, it is something we already have. We can begin to experience this oneness with God in our own personal prayer time. As we sit in stillness, waiting in silence on God, as we voice to God our deepest aspirations for those we care about, as we share with God our grief and frustrations, as we ponder our day and thank God for God’s gifts to us, God may grace us with a sense of union with God, and we may know more surely that we are and have never been anything but God’s beloved children.
We appropriate even more surely our oneness with God when we approach God together with our fellow disciples. Deepening our own personal relationship with Jesus is certainly an important part of maturing as disciples. Yet our personal relationship with God is never the end of Christian life. The Christian life is never solely about “me and sweet Jesus.” We have been baptized into Christ’s Body. As members of Christ’s Body, we are also called to pray and worship together. Believe it or not, even silent prayer is deeper and richer when done together with others in a praying community. As members of the Episcopal Church we are especially called to corporate worship, as we pray from a book of common prayer, a book intended for all. Figuratively, if not literally, as Anglicans we stand around the table together. We know that whatever divides us, together we worship God. And we sense more deeply our oneness with God as all of us together partake of the one bread and drink from the one cup.
The second dimension of oneness Jesus prays that we will experience is oneness with each other. It is ironic – or perhaps prescient – that the writer of John’s gospel should have Jesus offer this prayer, as the community to which John was writing was deeply divided. Nevertheless, here Jesus prays that we will recognize, as members of Christ’s Body, our fundamental oneness with each other. On the parish level, we understand ourselves to be part of a community that supports its members both spiritually and pastorally and whose invitation is open to all. Indeed, a parish our size cannot afford the luxury of conflict and schism, but, rather, is called to graciously include all who come through the red doors – or even the glass doors. Our Common Ministry team has recognized our desire to live into our oneness as a community. For that reason, the team has surveyed our gifts and strengths as a parish, begun the Second Sunday potlucks, and suggested a gala celebration next week for Pentecost.
Our oneness with fellow disciples extends beyond the parish. As Episcopalians we are also part of a diocese, the Diocese of Southern Ohio, which is made up of 25,000 people who attend eighty different parishes in the southern half of the state. This past Wednesday we received a powerful reminder of our oneness with the rest of the diocese, as representatives from five parishes from different parts of the diocese gathered to induct new members of the Society of St. Simeon and St. Anna, including our own Alice and Jimmy Salyer. We are also members of the wider Episcopal Church in the United States. Last month, I was graced to experience our ties to the Church of the Resurrection, the parish on Long Island that has been adding children’s clothes and equipment to our diaper distribution program. Through our ecumenical efforts here at home and through the Anglican Communion, the World Council of Churches, and other church bodies, we are reminded of our oneness with all our sisters and brothers in Christ. Our oneness with fellow Christians even transcends time and space, as we know ourselves to be surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, fellow disciples in the communion of saints, who have gone before us as members of Christ’s Body.
Finally, in his great priestly prayer, Jesus prays that we will experience oneness with those whom we serve, those to whom we give sacrificially of ourselves, as he gave himself for us. When we are at our best, we experience that sense of oneness with those whom we serve at the Loaves and Fishes dinner. We don’t just tolerate our diners. We don’t just welcome them. We invite them, and we embrace them as God’s children, sisters and brothers for whom Christ died, sisters and brothers who are as beloved of God as we are. We are also at one with those whom we serve farther away. When Hurricane Sandy destroyed homes, businesses, and churches six months ago, many dioceses and individual parishes understood their oneness with east coast communities and stepped in with aid. The Episcopal dioceses of Easton, New Jersey, Newark, New York, and Long Island are among those who are even now generously helping impacted communities recover from the devastation. As many of you know well, our oneness with our fellow human beings extends well beyond our borders. Our care and concern for others transcends lines of faith communities and ultimately national boundaries. In the Episcopal Church, for example, the diocese of Atlanta has played a major part in the fight against malaria, both historically in the United States and now as a major force in the Nets for Life Inspiration Fund, the church-wide, grassroots effort of Episcopal Relief and Development to raise awareness and support for malaria prevention.
“We’re all just walking each other home,” says American spiritual teacher Ram Dass. As we go, Jesus prays that we will turn no one away, and that we will walk hand in hand, one with God, one with each other, and one in service to all who need our love and care.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
The Spirit Will Teach You Everything
There’s an old story about a king who decided to create a special holiday to honor the greatest subject in his kingdom.1 When the day came, a large crowd gathered in the palace courtyard. The judges brought four finalists forward, from whom the king would choose the winner. The first person the judges presented was a wealthy philanthropist, who had generously given away much of his wealth to the poor and supported many humanitarian efforts. The second person was a celebrated physician, who had faithfully and conscientiously spent his life serving the sick. The third person was a distinguished judge, who was known for his wisdom, fairness, and brilliant decisions. To everyone’s surprise, the fourth person to come forward was an elderly woman. Her manner and dress were very humble. Was she really someone who would be honored as the greatest subject in the kingdom? What chance could she have had, compared with the others who had accomplished so much? Yet, there was something about her: she seemed to radiate love, understanding, and quiet confidence. The king was intrigued, yet also puzzled. He asked who she was. The answer came, “You see the philanthropist, the physician, and the judge? Well, she was their teacher!”
Those of you who were or are teachers know the importance of your work. If you’re fortunate, you occasionally got or get a glimpse of your impact on others – always, we hope, for good. And all of us should be able to remember the teachers who influenced us, the teachers who taught, encouraged, advised, and helped us.
The reason we know anything about Jesus is that he left us a teacher, the greatest Teacher there is. Throughout Easter tide we have been getting glimpses of the impact of the resurrection on the lives of Jesus’ first followers, and on our lives as his disciples. We have been pondering the question, “What does it mean to be disciples of the risen Christ?” Each week, the first lesson from the book of Acts has provided snapshots of the expansion of the first group of Jesus’ followers. Similarly, the reading from the Gospel according to John has reminded us of Jesus’ promises to his followers about what their lives would be like. It’s important to remember that John’s gospel was written in the late ‘80s or early ‘90s. Its audience was a community in conflict with both the Jewish religious leaders and the Roman civic leaders, a community that desperately needed reassurance that they had made the right choice in becoming followers of Jesus.
Today’s gospel lesson is a portion of Jesus’ last words to his friends at his last meal with them. Jesus knows that he is leaving them, and they probably do too. They are confused, upset, fearful, and full of questions. “Where are you going? “Show us the Father, they demand.” Today’s portion actually immediately follows a question posed by the other Judas: “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?” Jesus doesn’t really answer the question. Instead, he tells his friends – and the audience of John’s gospel – what they really need to hear. Jesus makes a promise to them. He reassures them that they will not be left alone. They will not disappear as a community. They will not forever be weak, marginalized, and bereft of God’s presence with them.
Rather – and here’s the good news – Jesus assures his friends that after his death and resurrection, they will have a new way of experiencing his presence. Though he will no longer be physically present to his disciples, he will send them a Teacher. In Greek, the word is parakletos, “paraclete,” or Advocate, as our translation has it. The Greek word is a legal term meaning someone who is called to stand beside a person in a legal proceeding. But a better translation is “teacher,” since the paraclete is really called to teach, not to defend. Here Jesus can already see what his friends cannot as yet see. He promises his followers that the Teacher that will come to them will clarify everything that they don’t yet understand. The Teacher will remind them of everything that Jesus taught them. The Teacher will come to communities of the faithful to instruct and witness to them. The Teacher will give them all the resources they will need to continue as Jesus’ followers. Most important, the Teacher, the paraclete, the Holy Spirit will be Jesus’ ongoing presence with the community of disciples after the resurrection. When the faithful gather together in Jesus’ name, the Teacher will help them to experience the Holy One in their midst, will help them to know that they are connected to both the Father and Jesus.
In John’s gospel, the disciples received the Holy Spirit immediately after Easter, when Jesus came and breathed on them in the upper room on Easter even. In the synoptic gospels, the Holy Spirit came to the gathered disciples fifty days after Easter, at Pentecost. However, it happened, what is clear is that Jesus’ first followers did indeed receive the Holy Spirit, and that the first communities of Christians did indeed continue to be taught by the Spirit. The Holy Spirit helped Jesus’ first followers to spread the good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection. The Holy Spirit helped them discern how to incorporate gentiles into what was initially a community of faithful Jews. Even as the good news spread, as we’ve been hearing in our lessons from Acts, the Holy Spirit continued to instruct the new churches and enable communities of the faithful to see the world around them more clearly.
Much has changed in the church since Jesus first promised the gift of the Holy Spirit to his followers. Christianity became a favored religion in the late Roman Empire. The Eastern Church separated from the Western Church. The Western church splintered yet again during the Reformation. In 1620, as the community of Pilgrims was about to depart from Leiden for North America, John Robinson, their spiritual leader, told them in his farewell address, “I Charge you before God and his blessed angels that you follow me no further than you have seen me follow Christ. If God reveal anything to you by any other instrument of His, be as ready to receive it as you were to receive any truth from my ministry, for I am verily persuaded the Lord hath more truth and light yet to break forth from His holy word.” And so the Holy Spirit continues to this day to guide faithful Christian communities.
I believe that we are witnessing a time in which yet more truth and light are breaking forth from God’s holy word. The church is in yet another period of upheaval and transition. We have already witnessed the abolition of slavery and the breakdown of barriers based on ancestry, ethnicity, gender, and sexual preference. We are seeing liturgical change. I think that we will see institutional changes during this century, as the Holy Spirit shows faithful Christians new ways of gathering, organizing themselves, and reaching out to others. We must not resist change. We must not fear it. We must remain faithful to Jesus. We must continue to pray, study Scripture, serve those in need, and allow the Holy Spirit to teach us how to love. We must find ways both in the wider church and in this parish to make the changes in our church lives that the Holy Spirit is calling us to make. We must find new means, whether through social media, QR codes, Instagram, or media we cannot yet imagine, to communicate the good news. We must new times, places, and reasons for gathering together as Jesus’ followers. Above all, we must have faith that the Holy Spirit will continue to be in our midst and will continue to teach us all that we need to learn.
In a lovely sculpture, Vermont artist Jerry Geier gives us a wonderful picture of Jesus’ last meal with his friends. Unlike most renderings of this scene, Jesus and the disciples are dressed in modern clothes and are shown sitting around an ordinary dining table. Jesus’ back is towards us, so that we can focus on the faces of all his friends. Don’t they look like people you might meet at Foodland? They certainly don’t look as fearful in this sculpture as they seem to be in John’s gospel. Perhaps that is because they can already feel the changes that are coming. Notice the open window behind them. The curtains are already stirring, and a breeze is beginning to blow through that window. The promised Teacher will soon show up.
My friends, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” Have faith that the Holy Spirit will continue to teach us and lead us. We have Jesus’ promise.
1. Based Gregory L. Tolle, “The Great Teacher,” Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Series V, Cycle C (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing, 2006), 97-98.
Those of you who were or are teachers know the importance of your work. If you’re fortunate, you occasionally got or get a glimpse of your impact on others – always, we hope, for good. And all of us should be able to remember the teachers who influenced us, the teachers who taught, encouraged, advised, and helped us.
The reason we know anything about Jesus is that he left us a teacher, the greatest Teacher there is. Throughout Easter tide we have been getting glimpses of the impact of the resurrection on the lives of Jesus’ first followers, and on our lives as his disciples. We have been pondering the question, “What does it mean to be disciples of the risen Christ?” Each week, the first lesson from the book of Acts has provided snapshots of the expansion of the first group of Jesus’ followers. Similarly, the reading from the Gospel according to John has reminded us of Jesus’ promises to his followers about what their lives would be like. It’s important to remember that John’s gospel was written in the late ‘80s or early ‘90s. Its audience was a community in conflict with both the Jewish religious leaders and the Roman civic leaders, a community that desperately needed reassurance that they had made the right choice in becoming followers of Jesus.
Today’s gospel lesson is a portion of Jesus’ last words to his friends at his last meal with them. Jesus knows that he is leaving them, and they probably do too. They are confused, upset, fearful, and full of questions. “Where are you going? “Show us the Father, they demand.” Today’s portion actually immediately follows a question posed by the other Judas: “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?” Jesus doesn’t really answer the question. Instead, he tells his friends – and the audience of John’s gospel – what they really need to hear. Jesus makes a promise to them. He reassures them that they will not be left alone. They will not disappear as a community. They will not forever be weak, marginalized, and bereft of God’s presence with them.
Rather – and here’s the good news – Jesus assures his friends that after his death and resurrection, they will have a new way of experiencing his presence. Though he will no longer be physically present to his disciples, he will send them a Teacher. In Greek, the word is parakletos, “paraclete,” or Advocate, as our translation has it. The Greek word is a legal term meaning someone who is called to stand beside a person in a legal proceeding. But a better translation is “teacher,” since the paraclete is really called to teach, not to defend. Here Jesus can already see what his friends cannot as yet see. He promises his followers that the Teacher that will come to them will clarify everything that they don’t yet understand. The Teacher will remind them of everything that Jesus taught them. The Teacher will come to communities of the faithful to instruct and witness to them. The Teacher will give them all the resources they will need to continue as Jesus’ followers. Most important, the Teacher, the paraclete, the Holy Spirit will be Jesus’ ongoing presence with the community of disciples after the resurrection. When the faithful gather together in Jesus’ name, the Teacher will help them to experience the Holy One in their midst, will help them to know that they are connected to both the Father and Jesus.
In John’s gospel, the disciples received the Holy Spirit immediately after Easter, when Jesus came and breathed on them in the upper room on Easter even. In the synoptic gospels, the Holy Spirit came to the gathered disciples fifty days after Easter, at Pentecost. However, it happened, what is clear is that Jesus’ first followers did indeed receive the Holy Spirit, and that the first communities of Christians did indeed continue to be taught by the Spirit. The Holy Spirit helped Jesus’ first followers to spread the good news of Jesus’ death and resurrection. The Holy Spirit helped them discern how to incorporate gentiles into what was initially a community of faithful Jews. Even as the good news spread, as we’ve been hearing in our lessons from Acts, the Holy Spirit continued to instruct the new churches and enable communities of the faithful to see the world around them more clearly.
Much has changed in the church since Jesus first promised the gift of the Holy Spirit to his followers. Christianity became a favored religion in the late Roman Empire. The Eastern Church separated from the Western Church. The Western church splintered yet again during the Reformation. In 1620, as the community of Pilgrims was about to depart from Leiden for North America, John Robinson, their spiritual leader, told them in his farewell address, “I Charge you before God and his blessed angels that you follow me no further than you have seen me follow Christ. If God reveal anything to you by any other instrument of His, be as ready to receive it as you were to receive any truth from my ministry, for I am verily persuaded the Lord hath more truth and light yet to break forth from His holy word.” And so the Holy Spirit continues to this day to guide faithful Christian communities.
I believe that we are witnessing a time in which yet more truth and light are breaking forth from God’s holy word. The church is in yet another period of upheaval and transition. We have already witnessed the abolition of slavery and the breakdown of barriers based on ancestry, ethnicity, gender, and sexual preference. We are seeing liturgical change. I think that we will see institutional changes during this century, as the Holy Spirit shows faithful Christians new ways of gathering, organizing themselves, and reaching out to others. We must not resist change. We must not fear it. We must remain faithful to Jesus. We must continue to pray, study Scripture, serve those in need, and allow the Holy Spirit to teach us how to love. We must find ways both in the wider church and in this parish to make the changes in our church lives that the Holy Spirit is calling us to make. We must find new means, whether through social media, QR codes, Instagram, or media we cannot yet imagine, to communicate the good news. We must new times, places, and reasons for gathering together as Jesus’ followers. Above all, we must have faith that the Holy Spirit will continue to be in our midst and will continue to teach us all that we need to learn.
In a lovely sculpture, Vermont artist Jerry Geier gives us a wonderful picture of Jesus’ last meal with his friends. Unlike most renderings of this scene, Jesus and the disciples are dressed in modern clothes and are shown sitting around an ordinary dining table. Jesus’ back is towards us, so that we can focus on the faces of all his friends. Don’t they look like people you might meet at Foodland? They certainly don’t look as fearful in this sculpture as they seem to be in John’s gospel. Perhaps that is because they can already feel the changes that are coming. Notice the open window behind them. The curtains are already stirring, and a breeze is beginning to blow through that window. The promised Teacher will soon show up.
My friends, “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” Have faith that the Holy Spirit will continue to teach us and lead us. We have Jesus’ promise.
1. Based Gregory L. Tolle, “The Great Teacher,” Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Series V, Cycle C (Lima, OH: CSS Publishing, 2006), 97-98.
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