In another life, I taught a large introductory course at the University of Arizona called Oriental Humanities. It covered the art, literature, and religions of the Middle East and India. Because it had the dubious distinction of satisfying two categories of General Education requirements at the same time, it often attracted more than 300 students. I always announced my own religious affiliation at the outset. I told the students that I was a member of the Episcopal Church and a committed Christian. However, I also wanted them to know that I would try to teach about Islam and Hinduism from an insider’s perspective, i.e., as sympathetically as I could, as an outsider to both traditions. Invariably, at the end of the course, one or more of the comments in my student evaluations would read something like, “How can she, as a committed Christian, teach as if these other religions are also true?”
That’s a real question, and one that is still very much alive today in today’s religiously plural world. Often we fall on one side of the question or the other. On one side, like the students questioning my stance in the Oriental Humanities class, we assume that commitment to one faith means that there is nothing good in other faiths, and that we must reject those who hold those faiths. On the other hand, we might think that, in the interest of tolerance, we must deny our own beliefs and focus only on what we hold in common with other faiths. Neither stance is helpful. Despite all the current political rhetoric, the real challenge for us as people committed to Christ is how can we remain grounded in our own tradition while, at the same time, showing sympathy for others and respecting – perhaps even learning from – others’ unique traditions.
If the only Scripture reading you heard this morning was the lesson from 1 Kings, you might say that there is no challenge, that we must reject all other faith traditions. Elijah has been sent to Ahab’s kingdom. In an attempt to bring the people of Israel back into covenant with God, Elijah engages in a fierce competition with 450 priests who serve the pagan god Baal. As the priests of Baal dance up and down and wail their pleas, the people stand by watching mutely while nothing happens. Then Elijah, after having upped the ante by dousing the altar three times, calls upon God to consume the burnt offering. And, of course God does! Seeing this, the people finally find their voices as they fall on their faces and cry out, “The Lord indeed is God.” Israel had a long history of flirting with the religions of the other nations around it. So perhaps it is justifiable that Scripture would portray yet another story in which God, through Elijah, seeks to again call Israel back to the God of their ancestors. Rather than wholesale rejection of other faith communities, perhaps the contest for us in this story is between apathy and commitment to God. And perhaps the lesson for us should be that, unlike the people who stood by mutely, we are called to understand our faith as a serious and demanding commitment.
Our gospel story begins to suggest what mutual respect between people of different faith communities might look like. Here we see a Roman centurion, a member of the hated occupying forces in Israel, who has yet been a benefactor of the local synagogue. The centurion’s slave is mortally ill. Seeking help for the slave, the centurion is willing to approach the Jewish rabbi, whose fame as a healer has been spreading. However, the centurion respects the boundaries between himself as a gentile and Jesus as a Jew. Therefore the centurion does not approach Jesus directly, but sends emissaries. Nor does he force Jesus to enter his house, but rather sends the message that he understands that Jesus’ healing power will work at a distance, just as the centurion’s authority does. The Jewish elders are grateful for the centurion’s respect for the Jews and his gift of a synagogue, and they willingly approach Jesus on his behalf. And, of course, the centurion’s slave is healed.
More clues, though perhaps a little less obvious, are in this opening section of Paul’s letter to the Christians in Galatia. If you think Paul is testy in this opening part, wait till we get to chapter 3! The issue here is that the majority of these new Galatian Christians are gentiles. They have not been circumcised, and they do not follow Jewish law. To many observant Jews, their way of life was extremely distasteful. After Paul had evangelized them, the so-called “Judaizers” visited them, i.e., evangelists who told the Galatians that they had to be circumcised and follow Jewish law in order to join the fellowship of Jesus’ followers. Paul is livid. For him, the gospel that he preached was an inclusive gospel, i.e., that fellowship in the Christian Way is open to all, that Christ died for all, and that God’s love extends to all. The “different gospel” that Paul rails against in this letter is one that makes the Christian way into an exclusive Jewish sect, one that “restricts, narrows, or limits the love of God to an exclusive few, i.e., those gentiles willing to live as Jews. “The ‘true gospel’ that Paul defends is one that expands the love of God in Christ to all people without exception…. Through the one particular man Jesus, the love of God embraces all the world.”1 Reiterating this argument, Paul says later in his letter to the Christians in Ephesus, that God is the father of all fatherhood, the father of the whole human family, even of the entire unseen world.
Political rhetoric aside, perhaps this isn’t so difficult for Americans to understand. Ethnic and cultural diversity is the very bedrock of our country. Even before the various waves of Europeans arrived here, there were diverse communities of Native Americans speaking mutually unintelligible languages and following very different ways of life. Once in this country, the various immigrant communities from Europe founded Roman Catholic parishes, Protestant churches of various denominations, Eastern Orthodox parishes, and Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, and Hasidic synagogues. In fact, now forty percent of all Jews in the world live in the United States. Some African slaves may originally have been Muslims. Muslims from the Middle East have been in this country since at least the mid-nineteenth century. Immigrants from Asia, especially after the end of the Asian Exclusion Act, have brought Hinduism, Buddhism, and Sikhism to this country. Near Pittsburgh, you can see the Sri Venkateshwara temple, built in 1975. In my Oriental Humanities course, I used to show a film depicting how the temple was built, with the help of Hindu priests, according to precise Hindu specifications. The first Sikh gurdwara, i.e., Sikh temple, was built in Stockton, California in 1912.
We are, and have been, a mosaic of ethnic and religious communities in this country, as are most other countries now. That is why I cringe when I hear the rhetoric calling for contraction of immigration or restrictions on the rights of Muslims or any other community. Certainly, we want to guard against terrorists from abroad, even as we remember that we have our own strain of domestic terrorism. But thanks be to God, the diverse communities that have come here have flourished here, and all of us have benefited from their courage in leaving their ancestral homes to come here. A story earlier this month in the Columbus Dispatch detailed the miraculous recovery from lung and kidney failure of Scott Hamilton of Mt. Sterling, Ohio. He was fortunate to receive the first lung-kidney transplant ever at OSU hospital. The name of the leader of his surgical team: Ashraf El-Hinnawi. What do you think Dr. El-Hinnawi’s religion was?
So, as faithful followers of the one who reached out to all people, regardless of their religion or ethnicity, how indeed do we remain faithful to our own commitment while respecting those of others? The first step, so wonderfully exemplified by Jesus’ treatment of the centurion, is to see the goodness in the other, to accept that others are as worthy of respect and compassion as we ourselves are. Consider reading Brian McLaren’s insightful book, Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? Or consider these few simple principles. Speak honestly about your own faith and allow others to do the same. Understand what contributions different faiths have made to the religious landscape. Be critical both about your own faith and those of others. Consider what you might learn from another tradition and what questions you have about your own tradition. Most especially, open your “hands, hearts, and minds to receive the gift of the other for who the other is, finding ways to serve one another and with one another.”
Egyptian Christian Safwat Marzouk reminds us that, “When people take both their own faith and the other person’s faith seriously, when they find healthy ways to both cross boundaries and maintain them, then they can turn their differences into a source of theological enrichment. They can join together to bring healing, well-being, and peace to our broken world.”2 Are you ready to join with others in the repair of the world? Are you ready to let the gospel be good news for all, even for those who journey to God on different paths?
1. Dan Clendenin, “No other Gospel, Journey with Jesus, May 29, 2016
2. “Living by the Word, Christian Century, May 10, 2016
Sunday, May 29, 2016
Sunday, May 22, 2016
The Spirit Will Lead You
Can a twenty first-century person be a Christian? Our language of Scripture, liturgy, and prayer mostly reflect a premodern understanding of the cosmos. Even if we understand that the language of Scripture and liturgy is poetic and metaphorical – in this church we are not, for example, asked to believe that the account of creation in Genesis is literal – how are we to follow Jesus in our own time and place? What does it mean for me as a twenty first-century person to commit myself to the revelation of Scripture, especially when the scientific discoveries of the last few centuries have given us a vastly different understanding of the world than the one that the writers of Scripture held?
Of course, these are not completely new questions. Scientists and religious thinkers through the centuries have been using their God-given reason to understand both creation and the revelation of God in Christ. When Galileo proposed that the earth was round, not flat, for example, and that the earth both rotated on its axis and revolved around the sun, his ideas were considered heretical and contrary to Scripture. He was even briefly imprisoned and forced to publicly recant his discoveries. Now, thanks to the work of astronomers we know that our corner of the universe is just a single small galaxy, that the universe is vaster than we can imagine and slowly expanding, and that the entire cosmos probably began about 13.6 billion years ago with a Big Bang.
Astronomers and biologists have also taught us that all existing matter was created in the Big Bang, that all the atoms in our bodies and everything around us are simply being recycled, and that all life, all things, are interconnected. We thus have a responsibility to respect and work with people, animals, the earth, all of creation, rather than to rape, pillage, and destroy. Mendel and Darwin, and host of other biologists and geneticists have taught us more about the mechanisms of life than ancient physicians, skilled as they were, could even begin to imagine. And more: for the writers of Scripture the known world consisted more or less of the Mediterranean world. Little, if anything, was known of sub-Saharan Africa or Asia. Nothing at all was known of the civilizations in central and South America that began to flourish well before the time of Christ, and whose ruins we are still discovering!
So how do we reconcile what we now know – what God has enabled us to know through the gift of reason – with Scripture? Must we take the Bible literally, as some “creationists” do, or do we have to throw it out altogether, as many atheists do? Worse yet, do we profess one thing when we come inside this building and something else altogether on the other side of the red doors? Perhaps today’s gospel reading helps answer these questions. Clearly, the disciples were confused and afraid – and asking lots of questions. It was their last night with Jesus in the account in John’s gospel. Talking a long time, Jesus had been explaining his reasons for leaving them and how they were to carry on once he was gone. He warned them that they wouldn’t understand right away what was happening. Then he made them a promise: the Spirit of truth would be with them and would guide them into all truth.
John’s gospel tells us a different story of Jesus’ last night with his friends than the story the other three gospels tell. Writing in the ‘90s or later, the evangelist was addressing a community that was separating from the wider Jewish community. These new followers of Jesus needed a deeper understanding of who Jesus was. They also needed reassurance that they had made the right choice in following him. For that reason, the gospel of John is less a historical account of Jesus’ life and more a theological study of Jesus. Seeking to explain for new followers who Jesus truly was, the gospel emphasizes throughout that Jesus is the Word made flesh, i.e., “God with skin on.” However, especially through Jesus’ words in today’s reading, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth,” the gospel writer also reassures these new followers that they don’t have to understand everything about Jesus all at once. The gospel writer assures the hearers of this gospel that, by following Jesus, they would be led by God’s Spirit to understand more deeply who God is, who Jesus is, and how God’s Spirit works in their lives. Most important, the gospel writer promises them that the Spirit of truth would continually help them to be transformed into faithful followers of Jesus, and that they – and by extension all faithful followers of Jesus – would continue to reinterpret, as individuals and as a community, the mission of Jesus and its meaning for their lives.
So can a twenty first-century person still follow this Jesus? Just as scientific understanding has changed over the centuries, so too has our understanding of Jesus. Thinkers in the earliest centuries after Christ wrestled with the question of how Jesus could be both human and divine. While orthodox Christianity asserts that Jesus was both, often the emphasis was on Jesus’ divinity. Indeed, the Nicene Creed, which we faithful recite as part of our Sunday worship, represents an attempt by the early leaders of the church to reach some consensus as to who Jesus was, and what his relationship was to God the creator and God the Spirit. Since the Renaissance, and especially since the eighteenth century, scholars and theologians have tended to emphasize the humanity of Jesus. Today, many interpreters of Scripture emphasize Jesus’ social teachings, emphasizing Jesus’ call to seek peace, end capital punishment, care for the poor, welcome the outcast in society, and end exclusion based on gender, sexuality, race, or socio-economic status.
Every era has been called on to reinterpret Jesus’ mission and relationship to God. Indeed, one writer suggests that continued reinterpretation of Jesus’ role is the very thrust of this part of John’s gospel. “What the text wants most to do,” this writer suggests, “is to encourage within the community an openness to fresh encounters with the revelation of Jesus. John intends to shape a community that is receptive to Spirit-guided growth. It is not that there will be new ‘truth’ beyond that of the ‘Word made flesh’…. John imagines a Christian community that is not locked into the past but understands what Jesus means for its own time. He anticipates that changing circumstances and the emergence of new questions – stem cell research, for example, or the ability to prolong life by artificial means, or growing religious pluralism – will require the community to think afresh.”
My friends, this is our call too. God has given us reason, and God has enabled us to understand Scripture, creation and each other more deeply than earlier centuries perhaps did. In our century we too are called to “think afresh.” Or maybe we need to ask ourselves is, do we really want to “think afresh?” Or would we rather let Jesus be a figure in some interesting stories, rather than someone to whom we have committed our lives? If we really want, as twenty first-century Christians, to continue to grow in our understanding of Jesus, how might we do that?
If we believe Jesus’ promise in John’s gospel that the Spirit will guide us into all truth, then we have to be open to the work of the Spirit. We have to let the Spirit teach us, in our own private prayer. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’ll ask again: can you find a time in your day – busy as you are – to regularly place yourself in God’s presence and let the Spirit begin to work within you? The Spirit also nourishes us in Word and Sacrament. Have you ever felt, sitting here or in any worship service, that sudden shard of understanding, that sudden glimpse of the reality of Jesus in your life? The Spirit especially leads and guides us in our study – of Scripture, theology, science, history, and social justice, to name just a few. Again, I’ll risk sounding like a broken record: God was not done with you when the priest poured water on your head, or the bishop laid hands on you. No less than the first hearers of John’s gospel, we too are called to “think afresh” about Jesus and how our commitment to following him impacts our life. The Spirit also leads us in our practice of mission. Sometimes when we are acting as God’s hands, when we look deeply into the eyes of people striving for justice and hear their stories, we learn more about the reality of Jesus than any book can teach us. And one more thing: growth in our understanding of Jesus is not in the end a do-it-yourself project, important as private prayer and study are. Ultimately, we are called to grow as a community of Jesus’ followers, to be Jesus in the world as a fellowship, and to do his works to the best of our ability.
God has blessed us with reason and skill. Jesus has promised us that we will continue to grow in our understanding of him and of the cosmos. And so, this week I invite you to meditate on these questions. Who is Jesus for you? How has your understanding of Jesus changed over the years? How does your life reflect your commitment to Jesus? Are you open to “thinking afresh” about the work of the Spirit in your life? Rest assured that Jesus’ promise still stands: even with all the discoveries that we have made over the centuries, the Spirit is still at work within us, helping us to see anew, to understand more deeply, and to follow more faithfully.
Of course, these are not completely new questions. Scientists and religious thinkers through the centuries have been using their God-given reason to understand both creation and the revelation of God in Christ. When Galileo proposed that the earth was round, not flat, for example, and that the earth both rotated on its axis and revolved around the sun, his ideas were considered heretical and contrary to Scripture. He was even briefly imprisoned and forced to publicly recant his discoveries. Now, thanks to the work of astronomers we know that our corner of the universe is just a single small galaxy, that the universe is vaster than we can imagine and slowly expanding, and that the entire cosmos probably began about 13.6 billion years ago with a Big Bang.
Astronomers and biologists have also taught us that all existing matter was created in the Big Bang, that all the atoms in our bodies and everything around us are simply being recycled, and that all life, all things, are interconnected. We thus have a responsibility to respect and work with people, animals, the earth, all of creation, rather than to rape, pillage, and destroy. Mendel and Darwin, and host of other biologists and geneticists have taught us more about the mechanisms of life than ancient physicians, skilled as they were, could even begin to imagine. And more: for the writers of Scripture the known world consisted more or less of the Mediterranean world. Little, if anything, was known of sub-Saharan Africa or Asia. Nothing at all was known of the civilizations in central and South America that began to flourish well before the time of Christ, and whose ruins we are still discovering!
So how do we reconcile what we now know – what God has enabled us to know through the gift of reason – with Scripture? Must we take the Bible literally, as some “creationists” do, or do we have to throw it out altogether, as many atheists do? Worse yet, do we profess one thing when we come inside this building and something else altogether on the other side of the red doors? Perhaps today’s gospel reading helps answer these questions. Clearly, the disciples were confused and afraid – and asking lots of questions. It was their last night with Jesus in the account in John’s gospel. Talking a long time, Jesus had been explaining his reasons for leaving them and how they were to carry on once he was gone. He warned them that they wouldn’t understand right away what was happening. Then he made them a promise: the Spirit of truth would be with them and would guide them into all truth.
John’s gospel tells us a different story of Jesus’ last night with his friends than the story the other three gospels tell. Writing in the ‘90s or later, the evangelist was addressing a community that was separating from the wider Jewish community. These new followers of Jesus needed a deeper understanding of who Jesus was. They also needed reassurance that they had made the right choice in following him. For that reason, the gospel of John is less a historical account of Jesus’ life and more a theological study of Jesus. Seeking to explain for new followers who Jesus truly was, the gospel emphasizes throughout that Jesus is the Word made flesh, i.e., “God with skin on.” However, especially through Jesus’ words in today’s reading, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth,” the gospel writer also reassures these new followers that they don’t have to understand everything about Jesus all at once. The gospel writer assures the hearers of this gospel that, by following Jesus, they would be led by God’s Spirit to understand more deeply who God is, who Jesus is, and how God’s Spirit works in their lives. Most important, the gospel writer promises them that the Spirit of truth would continually help them to be transformed into faithful followers of Jesus, and that they – and by extension all faithful followers of Jesus – would continue to reinterpret, as individuals and as a community, the mission of Jesus and its meaning for their lives.
So can a twenty first-century person still follow this Jesus? Just as scientific understanding has changed over the centuries, so too has our understanding of Jesus. Thinkers in the earliest centuries after Christ wrestled with the question of how Jesus could be both human and divine. While orthodox Christianity asserts that Jesus was both, often the emphasis was on Jesus’ divinity. Indeed, the Nicene Creed, which we faithful recite as part of our Sunday worship, represents an attempt by the early leaders of the church to reach some consensus as to who Jesus was, and what his relationship was to God the creator and God the Spirit. Since the Renaissance, and especially since the eighteenth century, scholars and theologians have tended to emphasize the humanity of Jesus. Today, many interpreters of Scripture emphasize Jesus’ social teachings, emphasizing Jesus’ call to seek peace, end capital punishment, care for the poor, welcome the outcast in society, and end exclusion based on gender, sexuality, race, or socio-economic status.
Every era has been called on to reinterpret Jesus’ mission and relationship to God. Indeed, one writer suggests that continued reinterpretation of Jesus’ role is the very thrust of this part of John’s gospel. “What the text wants most to do,” this writer suggests, “is to encourage within the community an openness to fresh encounters with the revelation of Jesus. John intends to shape a community that is receptive to Spirit-guided growth. It is not that there will be new ‘truth’ beyond that of the ‘Word made flesh’…. John imagines a Christian community that is not locked into the past but understands what Jesus means for its own time. He anticipates that changing circumstances and the emergence of new questions – stem cell research, for example, or the ability to prolong life by artificial means, or growing religious pluralism – will require the community to think afresh.”
My friends, this is our call too. God has given us reason, and God has enabled us to understand Scripture, creation and each other more deeply than earlier centuries perhaps did. In our century we too are called to “think afresh.” Or maybe we need to ask ourselves is, do we really want to “think afresh?” Or would we rather let Jesus be a figure in some interesting stories, rather than someone to whom we have committed our lives? If we really want, as twenty first-century Christians, to continue to grow in our understanding of Jesus, how might we do that?
If we believe Jesus’ promise in John’s gospel that the Spirit will guide us into all truth, then we have to be open to the work of the Spirit. We have to let the Spirit teach us, in our own private prayer. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’ll ask again: can you find a time in your day – busy as you are – to regularly place yourself in God’s presence and let the Spirit begin to work within you? The Spirit also nourishes us in Word and Sacrament. Have you ever felt, sitting here or in any worship service, that sudden shard of understanding, that sudden glimpse of the reality of Jesus in your life? The Spirit especially leads and guides us in our study – of Scripture, theology, science, history, and social justice, to name just a few. Again, I’ll risk sounding like a broken record: God was not done with you when the priest poured water on your head, or the bishop laid hands on you. No less than the first hearers of John’s gospel, we too are called to “think afresh” about Jesus and how our commitment to following him impacts our life. The Spirit also leads us in our practice of mission. Sometimes when we are acting as God’s hands, when we look deeply into the eyes of people striving for justice and hear their stories, we learn more about the reality of Jesus than any book can teach us. And one more thing: growth in our understanding of Jesus is not in the end a do-it-yourself project, important as private prayer and study are. Ultimately, we are called to grow as a community of Jesus’ followers, to be Jesus in the world as a fellowship, and to do his works to the best of our ability.
God has blessed us with reason and skill. Jesus has promised us that we will continue to grow in our understanding of him and of the cosmos. And so, this week I invite you to meditate on these questions. Who is Jesus for you? How has your understanding of Jesus changed over the years? How does your life reflect your commitment to Jesus? Are you open to “thinking afresh” about the work of the Spirit in your life? Rest assured that Jesus’ promise still stands: even with all the discoveries that we have made over the centuries, the Spirit is still at work within us, helping us to see anew, to understand more deeply, and to follow more faithfully.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Who is God Calling Us to be?
Is God calling you? Who might God be calling you to be, and how are you responding to God’s call? If you are in the last quarter of your life, are you accepting God’s call to age gracefully, or are you fiercely resisting going “gentle into that good night?” If you are younger, how is God calling you, your spouse, and your family? How is God calling this parish? In 1841 a small group of Episcopalians decided to begin meeting. To what might this community be called 175 years later? And are we as individuals or as a parish called to partner with God in bringing God’s reign nearer?
Today’s readings from Scripture invite us to wonder about God’s call and possible responses to it Actually, from Genesis to Revelation, Scripture is filled with stories of people hearing God’s call and wondering about how to answer it. Think of Jacob at Haran, how he dreamed of a ladder on which angels were going up and down and heard God’s promise to bring him back to the land of Israel. What did Jacob say when he woke up? “’Surely the Lord is in this place; and I did not know it.’ And he was afraid, and said, ‘This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’” Or think of Moses and the burning bush, or Isaiah in the temple, or Jeremiah. All knew themselves called by God, and all answered at first, “Surely, not me!” Even so, all eventually heeded God’s call and were transformed into leaders and prophets.
Do we see something similar in today’s Gospel reading? Jesus is about to depart from his faithful friends. Before the end, he gives them a preview of what life after his resurrection might look like. He promises that the Holy Spirit will lead and guide them and will call them to new, more confident life in him. In the last chapter of Revelation, the culmination of many visions, John of Ephesus has a foretaste of God’s future, of the re-creation and renewal of the entire cosmos. And, of course, the reading from the Acts of the Apostles depicts a point in the history of the early church where visions, calls, and responses proved decisive for the fledgling Christian community.
We enter the story at the point where Paul is making further plans for sharing the good news of Jesus. Having left Jerusalem, his plan was to stay in Asia Minor, i.e., what is today western Turkey. However, he “had a vision” of a call to Macedonia, i.e., the northern part of what today we call Greece. Taking with him the younger Timothy, he sailed about 100 miles northwest from Troas on the west coast of Turkey. He then went inland about ten miles to the Roman colony of Philippi, an area that had been settled mostly by veterans of the Roman wars who had been given land in return for their service. In a new place, Paul’s practice was to look for a synagogue where he might begin teaching devout Jews about the new Way of Jesus. So on the Sabbath day, he went where he thought they might gather, expecting no doubt to meet that “man of Macedonia” who had called to Paul in his vision. Sitting down to teach – that was the normal way in the ancient world – Paul found instead that he was teaching women.
One among these women, Lydia, heard God’s call through Paul’s teaching. Lydia was originally from an area of Asia Minor especially known for its expensive purple dye. Perhaps she was an agent of a company there. She was probably a widow and an independent businesswoman who owned her own home, to which she could invite Paul and Timothy. Most likely she was a gentile but also what was a called a “God-fearer,” i.e., someone who respected Judaism and worshipped with Jews without converting. Because of her devotion to God and her regular worship, because of her openness to God, she was able to hear God calling her to join the community of Jesus’ followers. From that moment on, her life was transformed. She was baptized, offered Paul and Timothy hospitality, eventually became a leader of the Christian community in Philippi and an evangelist in her own right, and even offered Paul her home after he was released from prison later on.
Through regular worship and prayer, both Paul and Lydia were able to hear God’s call. Both were transformed by God’s call. Paul left Asia Minor to evangelize Europe, even eventually planning trips to Rome and Spain. Lydia joined other women leaders of the early church, trusting in God’s promises, and courageously spreading the good news of Jesus wherever the Holy Spirit led them.
Does God still call us? On Monday I returned from a week-long CREDO conference at the retreat center of the Diocese of Virginia. The conference asked us to discern several questions. Perhaps the most important of these questions were “What is God calling me to do?” and “How am I responding to God’s call?” Nineteen of us officially retired clergy, all older than 68, attended the conference. Most were fully retired, but a few, like me, were still serving parishes. We were joined by eight faculty members, four of whom were also priests, representing the financial, vocational, health, and spiritual aspects of ministry. All of the faculty members were very candid about their faith journeys, how they had felt called, how they had responded, and what call they were now hearing. In small groups, each of us looked both back and ahead, sharing our own sense of how we were living out our call.
Some of you have heard my own call story, but perhaps this is a good time to share it. I was not like Lydia! Actually, I thought I heard a call to ordained ministry as a teenager, but I am old enough that no one was ordaining women in those days. As an adult I was busy with raising three children and pursuing a demanding academic career at three different universities. In 1998 I had organized a quiet morning at Good Shepherd in Athens led by a sister from the Community of the Transfiguration in Cincinnati. As I sat praying in the sanctuary, I distinctly heard God’s call. But I answered, “Not me, Lord! Go away.” In 2000, I chaired a parish discernment committee for another person. To my surprise, I asked myself the same questions that we were asking her. Again I said, “Nope, not me.” Shortly after the long-time rector of Good Shepherd left in late 2002, a sister from the Community of the Holy Spirit in New York, Sr. Faith Margaret whom some of you have met, came to talk with then Vestry members about the transition. I spent about five minutes with her talking about Vestry matters and the rest of the time about my lack of prayer life. Following her counsel, I began to pray again and in May 2003 became an associate of the Community.
Perhaps all the prayer had finally opened my ears. Perhaps the Holy Spirit finally shouted at me loud enough. In early 2004, I opened my mouth and said to Sr. Faith Margaret, “I’m thinking about ordained ministry.” She was the first person I had ever said those words to besides my spouse. After that, the Holy Spirit grabbed my hand and off we went: I was a postulant for the priesthood eleven months later, took early retirement from Ohio University in 2005, was ordained priest three years later, and have now stood before you for eight years. By God’s grace, and with the help of you all, my spiritual directors, and many others, I am still learning and growing as a follower of Jesus.
What is God calling you to do? Do you create the time in your day, in your week, so that you can hear God’s call to you? Is there any Sabbath time in your life, so that you too might go outside the gate by the river and hear life-changing teaching? Have you perhaps had a vision or heard a call, as Paul and others in Scripture did? Or perhaps God’s words have pierced your soul as you have read, sat in silence, or even sung a hymn. Is God calling you to have the courage to change the course of your life, to minister in some new way to those around you, to leave behind those habits and addictions that keep you from following Jesus? How are you answering God’s call?
What is God calling us to do? Are we as a parish called to leave our comfortable home in Asia Minor and cross over to Macedonia? Perhaps there’s a Lydia waiting to hear from us. Soon after Johnny “Knuckles” DeVincenzo left prison after a 44-year sentence, he heard a child crying in the lobby of his Harlem apartment building. Her mother explained that they were both hungry, so DeVincenzo took them out to dinner. So began a most unusual partnership between the leaders of the Fortune Society, a New York-based nonprofit whose mission is to reintegrate formerly incarcerated people into society, and “The Castle,” a Gothic-style apartment house. Partnering with a development firm, Fortune opened an eleven-story building adjacent to the Castle that houses both former convicts and low-income families. As so many former convicts are older and male, and so many of the low-income families are headed by single mothers, The Castle has become a unique haven. After having previously having been on the own, both the men and women have found surprisingly supportive families and healing for their souls.
Whenever we are moved by love, we are being sent by God. Who is God calling us to be? Where is God sending us? How are we answering God’s call?
Today’s readings from Scripture invite us to wonder about God’s call and possible responses to it Actually, from Genesis to Revelation, Scripture is filled with stories of people hearing God’s call and wondering about how to answer it. Think of Jacob at Haran, how he dreamed of a ladder on which angels were going up and down and heard God’s promise to bring him back to the land of Israel. What did Jacob say when he woke up? “’Surely the Lord is in this place; and I did not know it.’ And he was afraid, and said, ‘This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’” Or think of Moses and the burning bush, or Isaiah in the temple, or Jeremiah. All knew themselves called by God, and all answered at first, “Surely, not me!” Even so, all eventually heeded God’s call and were transformed into leaders and prophets.
Do we see something similar in today’s Gospel reading? Jesus is about to depart from his faithful friends. Before the end, he gives them a preview of what life after his resurrection might look like. He promises that the Holy Spirit will lead and guide them and will call them to new, more confident life in him. In the last chapter of Revelation, the culmination of many visions, John of Ephesus has a foretaste of God’s future, of the re-creation and renewal of the entire cosmos. And, of course, the reading from the Acts of the Apostles depicts a point in the history of the early church where visions, calls, and responses proved decisive for the fledgling Christian community.
We enter the story at the point where Paul is making further plans for sharing the good news of Jesus. Having left Jerusalem, his plan was to stay in Asia Minor, i.e., what is today western Turkey. However, he “had a vision” of a call to Macedonia, i.e., the northern part of what today we call Greece. Taking with him the younger Timothy, he sailed about 100 miles northwest from Troas on the west coast of Turkey. He then went inland about ten miles to the Roman colony of Philippi, an area that had been settled mostly by veterans of the Roman wars who had been given land in return for their service. In a new place, Paul’s practice was to look for a synagogue where he might begin teaching devout Jews about the new Way of Jesus. So on the Sabbath day, he went where he thought they might gather, expecting no doubt to meet that “man of Macedonia” who had called to Paul in his vision. Sitting down to teach – that was the normal way in the ancient world – Paul found instead that he was teaching women.
One among these women, Lydia, heard God’s call through Paul’s teaching. Lydia was originally from an area of Asia Minor especially known for its expensive purple dye. Perhaps she was an agent of a company there. She was probably a widow and an independent businesswoman who owned her own home, to which she could invite Paul and Timothy. Most likely she was a gentile but also what was a called a “God-fearer,” i.e., someone who respected Judaism and worshipped with Jews without converting. Because of her devotion to God and her regular worship, because of her openness to God, she was able to hear God calling her to join the community of Jesus’ followers. From that moment on, her life was transformed. She was baptized, offered Paul and Timothy hospitality, eventually became a leader of the Christian community in Philippi and an evangelist in her own right, and even offered Paul her home after he was released from prison later on.
Through regular worship and prayer, both Paul and Lydia were able to hear God’s call. Both were transformed by God’s call. Paul left Asia Minor to evangelize Europe, even eventually planning trips to Rome and Spain. Lydia joined other women leaders of the early church, trusting in God’s promises, and courageously spreading the good news of Jesus wherever the Holy Spirit led them.
Does God still call us? On Monday I returned from a week-long CREDO conference at the retreat center of the Diocese of Virginia. The conference asked us to discern several questions. Perhaps the most important of these questions were “What is God calling me to do?” and “How am I responding to God’s call?” Nineteen of us officially retired clergy, all older than 68, attended the conference. Most were fully retired, but a few, like me, were still serving parishes. We were joined by eight faculty members, four of whom were also priests, representing the financial, vocational, health, and spiritual aspects of ministry. All of the faculty members were very candid about their faith journeys, how they had felt called, how they had responded, and what call they were now hearing. In small groups, each of us looked both back and ahead, sharing our own sense of how we were living out our call.
Some of you have heard my own call story, but perhaps this is a good time to share it. I was not like Lydia! Actually, I thought I heard a call to ordained ministry as a teenager, but I am old enough that no one was ordaining women in those days. As an adult I was busy with raising three children and pursuing a demanding academic career at three different universities. In 1998 I had organized a quiet morning at Good Shepherd in Athens led by a sister from the Community of the Transfiguration in Cincinnati. As I sat praying in the sanctuary, I distinctly heard God’s call. But I answered, “Not me, Lord! Go away.” In 2000, I chaired a parish discernment committee for another person. To my surprise, I asked myself the same questions that we were asking her. Again I said, “Nope, not me.” Shortly after the long-time rector of Good Shepherd left in late 2002, a sister from the Community of the Holy Spirit in New York, Sr. Faith Margaret whom some of you have met, came to talk with then Vestry members about the transition. I spent about five minutes with her talking about Vestry matters and the rest of the time about my lack of prayer life. Following her counsel, I began to pray again and in May 2003 became an associate of the Community.
Perhaps all the prayer had finally opened my ears. Perhaps the Holy Spirit finally shouted at me loud enough. In early 2004, I opened my mouth and said to Sr. Faith Margaret, “I’m thinking about ordained ministry.” She was the first person I had ever said those words to besides my spouse. After that, the Holy Spirit grabbed my hand and off we went: I was a postulant for the priesthood eleven months later, took early retirement from Ohio University in 2005, was ordained priest three years later, and have now stood before you for eight years. By God’s grace, and with the help of you all, my spiritual directors, and many others, I am still learning and growing as a follower of Jesus.
What is God calling you to do? Do you create the time in your day, in your week, so that you can hear God’s call to you? Is there any Sabbath time in your life, so that you too might go outside the gate by the river and hear life-changing teaching? Have you perhaps had a vision or heard a call, as Paul and others in Scripture did? Or perhaps God’s words have pierced your soul as you have read, sat in silence, or even sung a hymn. Is God calling you to have the courage to change the course of your life, to minister in some new way to those around you, to leave behind those habits and addictions that keep you from following Jesus? How are you answering God’s call?
What is God calling us to do? Are we as a parish called to leave our comfortable home in Asia Minor and cross over to Macedonia? Perhaps there’s a Lydia waiting to hear from us. Soon after Johnny “Knuckles” DeVincenzo left prison after a 44-year sentence, he heard a child crying in the lobby of his Harlem apartment building. Her mother explained that they were both hungry, so DeVincenzo took them out to dinner. So began a most unusual partnership between the leaders of the Fortune Society, a New York-based nonprofit whose mission is to reintegrate formerly incarcerated people into society, and “The Castle,” a Gothic-style apartment house. Partnering with a development firm, Fortune opened an eleven-story building adjacent to the Castle that houses both former convicts and low-income families. As so many former convicts are older and male, and so many of the low-income families are headed by single mothers, The Castle has become a unique haven. After having previously having been on the own, both the men and women have found surprisingly supportive families and healing for their souls.
Whenever we are moved by love, we are being sent by God. Who is God calling us to be? Where is God sending us? How are we answering God’s call?
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