Watch a video of the lesson below.
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
The Parable of the Mustard Seed
On Sunday, instead of a traditional sermon, Josh presented a Godly Play lesson on the Parable of the Mustard Seed. Godly Play is a Montessori-influenced curriculum for presenting the Bible to young children.
Watch a video of the lesson below.
Watch a video of the lesson below.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
At Home with Jesus' Family
Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling, O sinners, come home.
Come home. Today we hear about Jesus coming home. We never really hear about him at home – he wasn’t even born at home. He’s usually on the road with the disciples, doing the teaching, healing, miracles thing. But this morning, he’s home; and of course bringing all the people with him.
Now wouldn’t you maybe think that his parents and siblings would be happy to see him? He’s JESUS! Hindsight is 20/20 isn’t it though, because to us he’s JESUS – but to them – he’s just Jesus. Jesus who’s hanging out with the wrong crowd. Jesus who’s bringing all those people with him everywhere. Jesus who acts in ways that that make people uncomfortable and embarrass his family.
Do you think that maybe when he wasn’t at home – which we can assume was pretty often – his mother and brothers and sisters would talk about him – like when is Jesus gonna get his act together? When is he going to get a real job and start thinking about starting a family? When is he going to settle down – and start ACTING like a member of this family?
They must have been saying something to that effect when Jesus was out doing his thing – because no one from his family rushes to greet him with open arms when he stops in for a bite to eat. Instead they are embarrassed? They are frustrated? Angry? What tone do you think his family hits when they see Jesus and his disciples and these crowds of followers and exclaim – someone get out there and do something. He has gone out of his mind!
Oh family. I’m not all that surprised we don’t hear a lot of stories with Jesus home with his family.
Jesus says a couple of things about family, but they’re not all that good. At the end of this passage he says – who are my family? Who are my brothers and sisters? Those who do the will of God – that’s who my family is! Implied is that his blood relations don’t necessarily fall into that category, right?
On the cross in John’s gospel as the beloved disciple and his mother stand there he says – woman, behold your son. And looking at the disciples says – behold your mother. We can assume they are not related – by blood – but through Jesus they are now family.
And chapter 10 in Matthew he says – Peace? You think I came to bring peace? I came to bring a sword. For I have come to set man against father, and daughter against mother – and ones enemies will be members of one’s own family!
Doesn’t sound to me like Jesus has a lot of great things to say about family – does it? Why do you think that is?
Ye who are weary come home, come home – that hymn goes. Family can sometimes make us very weary. It’s something that hasn’t changed all that much since Jesus’ time in many ways – an idea that’s cross-cultural I’d say. I’m talking this notion, this tradition we have that family is everything.
Jesus’ family thinks he is crazy because Jesus doesn’t buy that, doesn’t live like that, in terms of our surname family, is everything. Jesus believes – and wants us to believe, accept and live out – the good news that God’s family is bigger than Weeks, or Smith or Thomas. That the waters of baptism are stronger than the ties, the blood, of family.
Ye who are weary come home. You know the first time I heard that hymn was at a Baptist church in Durham, NC. When I was associate rector there I was involved with our J2A group going on a pilgrimage to Greece. Just like our teens are about to go on their J2A pilgrimage to the Grand Tetons in a couple of weeks.
You know sometimes folks in churches think pilgrimages are over the top – like how is a pilgrimage relevant to a teenager learning about the Christian faith. Well, in my experience – and I’ll bet if you ask the leaders of our J2A and teens that have been involved – a theme that would emerge – would be family. Not the family your born into but the family that gets created in community – that is not of your choosing, but God’s.
Anyway on this pilgrimage to Greece on of our teens, Ed – his mother was very ill – she was dying. His parents didn’t come to church. Ed had come once from a sleepover and yes, the activities of the youth group and the pilgrimage were the primary reason he came to church. His parents were divorced. I talked with the dad – his mom was Baptist. Ed’s mom was so ill at this point we waited until the last possible minute to even see if Ed would go – but in the end, he decided he would.
Day three of the pilgrimage – we’re in Thessaloniki – as in Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians – and his dad calls my cell phone. His mother is dying – really dying. As always when it comes to these situations you can’t set a time and day. His father is beside himself on the phone with me – he doesn’t know what to do. He feels horrible about making Ed leave. He feels guilty about the costs of getting Ed home early (the church would be covering much of that). And he doesn’t know if this is really it – really the end. She’s been sick for so long what if it’s just another incident?
This man wasn’t a member of my family. I didn’t even really have a relationship with him through church. He was sobbing – sobbing with me on the phone asking over and over again – what should I do?
What your heart tells you to do. There is no right answer. There is your gut. There is your heart.
At 3am that morning I sat in the lobby with Ed waiting for a cab to drive him to the airport so he could catch his flight back home.
Before the kids went to bed that night we all sat around and talked – and everything shifted. Everyone was family – when families are at their best. Listening, supporting, crying, laughing.
During the pilgrimage the kids got Ed souvenirs and sent him postcards. They wanted Ed to be as much a part of their pilgrimage experience as possible. And a few weeks after we got home, his mother died. His family was small and was hurting and didn't fill that big Baptist church. I can't tell you how powerful it was when all 16 kids, their parents and their leaders and me – were at that funeral - singing that hymn. There was a church family there for Ed, which believe me, he needed – a family of peers, of friends – whom God had brought together.
We were a sign of love and support. We were living into Jesus’ definition of family – whoever does the will of God is my family, he said. And we are brought into this family through what? Through baptism – that’s how we mark it anyway – often on behalf of children before they even know it.
Yesterday morning, we had a baptism here. I want you all to know about a new member of this family – Sophia Hendrickson, granddaughter to John and Elizabeth Hendrickson. Now as you know, typically we do baptisms together as a church family as a part of Sunday Eucharist. Because those two sacraments – Baptism and Eucharist are the core of our identity as a family and meant to be in community. But occasionally – and for pastoral reasons – we will do baptism outside of Sunday. And I will say – it was wonderful because it wasn’t a small gathering but y’all brought a contingent, many of who had connections already to Good Shepherd. And best of all – lots of kids who could participate and allow me the opportunity to explain the why of what we’re doing. I’m explaining it to the kids – but truth be told it’s the adults who need to understand that a baptism isn’t special mojo being bestowed – it’s symbolic of the grace of God that has already entered their life – and they have a responsibility as parents and godparents to remember that grace for their child and for themselves.
There’s this thing with baptism I’ve been thinking about doing for well over a year – but I’m scared. It’s one of those things were you all might think to yourself – uh oh, Arianne’s gone out of her mind. Its called open baptism – so before the baptism when I say, the candidates will now be presented – I also say – if there is anyone here who feels the love of Jesus Christ and is moved to make a commitment to proclaim the good news of God please come forward. Is there anyone here who desires to be baptized?
So I’m scared I’ll look foolish, because would anyone come forward. But what’s even more terrifying – what if someone does come forward?
Bishop Doyle of Texas tells a story – because he practices open baptism – so whenever he does a visitation – he includes this invitation – our version of an altar call. He says the majority of the time – the response is the sound of crickets. But one time he was at a church, he invited, there was silence and then a man stood up in the back and said – I want to, but I’m a sinner. And the bishop immediately replied – that’s ok, because I am too! And as that man walked forward – 20 people, 20 adults followed in behind – and all were welcomed into the family – all felt the waters of forgiveness that day.
Look. I’m not saying the Christian family is better than any other. In fact, we struggle with all the same problems as any other family – spend enough time in church – read the news of our diocese this past year – and you know our family is like any other. But, Jesus is the reason we have been brought together. When you and I are a part of families that we’ve chosen – or that we’ve been brought into – where we practice the healthy, life-giving ways of God – the ways of acceptance, the ways of loving detachment, the ways of right speech, the ways of pulling out the logs in our own eyes before we try to pluck the speck from our neighbors – the ways of humility, mercy, and steadfastness – when we practice the attributes that God brings before us in Christ – we get better at bringing those practices into our families.
I know there are people sitting here who are struggling in their families. I know there are people sitting here who have been carrying the hurts inflicted on them – or the hurts they have inflicted on members of their family for a long time. This morning we hear Jesus say – come home – calling O sinner – come home. There is a wonderful image Jesus uses for family – in the gospel of Luke – as he looks out over all Jerusalem and cries – and through his tears says – O Jerusalem – you crazy family who hurt the ones who bring God’s ways into your midst – how I long to gather you like a mother hen gathers her brood underneath her wings.
Renew yourself day by day, come home. Let Jesus gather you into God's family and practice the ways of Jesus for yourself, and for your family. Amen.
Now wouldn’t you maybe think that his parents and siblings would be happy to see him? He’s JESUS! Hindsight is 20/20 isn’t it though, because to us he’s JESUS – but to them – he’s just Jesus. Jesus who’s hanging out with the wrong crowd. Jesus who’s bringing all those people with him everywhere. Jesus who acts in ways that that make people uncomfortable and embarrass his family.
Do you think that maybe when he wasn’t at home – which we can assume was pretty often – his mother and brothers and sisters would talk about him – like when is Jesus gonna get his act together? When is he going to get a real job and start thinking about starting a family? When is he going to settle down – and start ACTING like a member of this family?
They must have been saying something to that effect when Jesus was out doing his thing – because no one from his family rushes to greet him with open arms when he stops in for a bite to eat. Instead they are embarrassed? They are frustrated? Angry? What tone do you think his family hits when they see Jesus and his disciples and these crowds of followers and exclaim – someone get out there and do something. He has gone out of his mind!
Oh family. I’m not all that surprised we don’t hear a lot of stories with Jesus home with his family.
Jesus says a couple of things about family, but they’re not all that good. At the end of this passage he says – who are my family? Who are my brothers and sisters? Those who do the will of God – that’s who my family is! Implied is that his blood relations don’t necessarily fall into that category, right?
On the cross in John’s gospel as the beloved disciple and his mother stand there he says – woman, behold your son. And looking at the disciples says – behold your mother. We can assume they are not related – by blood – but through Jesus they are now family.
And chapter 10 in Matthew he says – Peace? You think I came to bring peace? I came to bring a sword. For I have come to set man against father, and daughter against mother – and ones enemies will be members of one’s own family!
Doesn’t sound to me like Jesus has a lot of great things to say about family – does it? Why do you think that is?
Ye who are weary come home, come home – that hymn goes. Family can sometimes make us very weary. It’s something that hasn’t changed all that much since Jesus’ time in many ways – an idea that’s cross-cultural I’d say. I’m talking this notion, this tradition we have that family is everything.
Jesus’ family thinks he is crazy because Jesus doesn’t buy that, doesn’t live like that, in terms of our surname family, is everything. Jesus believes – and wants us to believe, accept and live out – the good news that God’s family is bigger than Weeks, or Smith or Thomas. That the waters of baptism are stronger than the ties, the blood, of family.
Ye who are weary come home. You know the first time I heard that hymn was at a Baptist church in Durham, NC. When I was associate rector there I was involved with our J2A group going on a pilgrimage to Greece. Just like our teens are about to go on their J2A pilgrimage to the Grand Tetons in a couple of weeks.
You know sometimes folks in churches think pilgrimages are over the top – like how is a pilgrimage relevant to a teenager learning about the Christian faith. Well, in my experience – and I’ll bet if you ask the leaders of our J2A and teens that have been involved – a theme that would emerge – would be family. Not the family your born into but the family that gets created in community – that is not of your choosing, but God’s.
Anyway on this pilgrimage to Greece on of our teens, Ed – his mother was very ill – she was dying. His parents didn’t come to church. Ed had come once from a sleepover and yes, the activities of the youth group and the pilgrimage were the primary reason he came to church. His parents were divorced. I talked with the dad – his mom was Baptist. Ed’s mom was so ill at this point we waited until the last possible minute to even see if Ed would go – but in the end, he decided he would.
Day three of the pilgrimage – we’re in Thessaloniki – as in Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians – and his dad calls my cell phone. His mother is dying – really dying. As always when it comes to these situations you can’t set a time and day. His father is beside himself on the phone with me – he doesn’t know what to do. He feels horrible about making Ed leave. He feels guilty about the costs of getting Ed home early (the church would be covering much of that). And he doesn’t know if this is really it – really the end. She’s been sick for so long what if it’s just another incident?
This man wasn’t a member of my family. I didn’t even really have a relationship with him through church. He was sobbing – sobbing with me on the phone asking over and over again – what should I do?
What your heart tells you to do. There is no right answer. There is your gut. There is your heart.
At 3am that morning I sat in the lobby with Ed waiting for a cab to drive him to the airport so he could catch his flight back home.
Before the kids went to bed that night we all sat around and talked – and everything shifted. Everyone was family – when families are at their best. Listening, supporting, crying, laughing.
During the pilgrimage the kids got Ed souvenirs and sent him postcards. They wanted Ed to be as much a part of their pilgrimage experience as possible. And a few weeks after we got home, his mother died. His family was small and was hurting and didn't fill that big Baptist church. I can't tell you how powerful it was when all 16 kids, their parents and their leaders and me – were at that funeral - singing that hymn. There was a church family there for Ed, which believe me, he needed – a family of peers, of friends – whom God had brought together.
We were a sign of love and support. We were living into Jesus’ definition of family – whoever does the will of God is my family, he said. And we are brought into this family through what? Through baptism – that’s how we mark it anyway – often on behalf of children before they even know it.
Yesterday morning, we had a baptism here. I want you all to know about a new member of this family – Sophia Hendrickson, granddaughter to John and Elizabeth Hendrickson. Now as you know, typically we do baptisms together as a church family as a part of Sunday Eucharist. Because those two sacraments – Baptism and Eucharist are the core of our identity as a family and meant to be in community. But occasionally – and for pastoral reasons – we will do baptism outside of Sunday. And I will say – it was wonderful because it wasn’t a small gathering but y’all brought a contingent, many of who had connections already to Good Shepherd. And best of all – lots of kids who could participate and allow me the opportunity to explain the why of what we’re doing. I’m explaining it to the kids – but truth be told it’s the adults who need to understand that a baptism isn’t special mojo being bestowed – it’s symbolic of the grace of God that has already entered their life – and they have a responsibility as parents and godparents to remember that grace for their child and for themselves.
There’s this thing with baptism I’ve been thinking about doing for well over a year – but I’m scared. It’s one of those things were you all might think to yourself – uh oh, Arianne’s gone out of her mind. Its called open baptism – so before the baptism when I say, the candidates will now be presented – I also say – if there is anyone here who feels the love of Jesus Christ and is moved to make a commitment to proclaim the good news of God please come forward. Is there anyone here who desires to be baptized?
So I’m scared I’ll look foolish, because would anyone come forward. But what’s even more terrifying – what if someone does come forward?
Bishop Doyle of Texas tells a story – because he practices open baptism – so whenever he does a visitation – he includes this invitation – our version of an altar call. He says the majority of the time – the response is the sound of crickets. But one time he was at a church, he invited, there was silence and then a man stood up in the back and said – I want to, but I’m a sinner. And the bishop immediately replied – that’s ok, because I am too! And as that man walked forward – 20 people, 20 adults followed in behind – and all were welcomed into the family – all felt the waters of forgiveness that day.
Look. I’m not saying the Christian family is better than any other. In fact, we struggle with all the same problems as any other family – spend enough time in church – read the news of our diocese this past year – and you know our family is like any other. But, Jesus is the reason we have been brought together. When you and I are a part of families that we’ve chosen – or that we’ve been brought into – where we practice the healthy, life-giving ways of God – the ways of acceptance, the ways of loving detachment, the ways of right speech, the ways of pulling out the logs in our own eyes before we try to pluck the speck from our neighbors – the ways of humility, mercy, and steadfastness – when we practice the attributes that God brings before us in Christ – we get better at bringing those practices into our families.
I know there are people sitting here who are struggling in their families. I know there are people sitting here who have been carrying the hurts inflicted on them – or the hurts they have inflicted on members of their family for a long time. This morning we hear Jesus say – come home – calling O sinner – come home. There is a wonderful image Jesus uses for family – in the gospel of Luke – as he looks out over all Jerusalem and cries – and through his tears says – O Jerusalem – you crazy family who hurt the ones who bring God’s ways into your midst – how I long to gather you like a mother hen gathers her brood underneath her wings.
Renew yourself day by day, come home. Let Jesus gather you into God's family and practice the ways of Jesus for yourself, and for your family. Amen.
Monday, June 1, 2015
The Opposite of Easy, Quick Solutions
Trinity Sunday
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs
Today is Trinity Sunday, the only day in the entire
liturgical year that is devoted to a doctrine, rather than set aside to
commemorate an event in the great story of God’s love for us. Our readings this
morning, I’m sorry to say, are not much help. None of them is about the
Trinity, because the word “trinity” never occurs in the Bible. Not once. Our
Gospel reading comes as close as any passage of scripture does, mentioning God,
the Son, and the Spirit. But that doesn’t spell out the doctrine we proclaim
this morning, that God is Three in One and One in Three, inseparable, and yet
distinct.
Honestly, most of us are much more attached to stories than
doctrine, aren't we? We haven’t gathered here this morning because we have
logically accepted propositions about God’s existence as true, we are here
because we feel God’s presence in our lives. It’s about story, about
relationship, not about dogma, isn't it?
Our Bible study group is currently gathering on Tuesday
mornings to discuss The Shack, a book about the Trinity. This past
Tuesday, in part because I was preparing this sermon, we discussed how we felt
about the idea of God as Trinity. You know what people said? No one talked
about how meaningful the Trinity was. People talked about God as Father, as
Son, and as Spirit and how the relationship those names described was
meaningful to them. But even if the Church says that the Trinity is so important
that it deserves an entire Sunday devoted to it, it's hard to feel that
importance in our lives, isn’t it?
The problem is that it’s hard to find an example of what the
Trinity is like. Jesus could tell parable about how the Kingdom of Heaven is
like this or that, a shepherd or a seed or a woman seeking a lost coin. When
you try to do that with the Trinity, you get in trouble. Scott and Joe Morales
taught our middle school Sunday School class this past year—what is generally a
pretty thankless job—and more than that, they taught them theology. Last fall,
Scott was preparing to lead the lesson on the Trinity. We were sitting on the
couch in our living room, and he turned to me and said, “I’ve got the best
illustration for the Trinity. I promised the class ice cream, and I’m going to
bring Neapolitan ice cream.” He wasn’t expecting me to give him a horrified
look in response and to say, “You can’t do that! That’s modalism!” That lead to
a discussion about what modalism, an ancient heresy, is. Modalism
misunderstands the Trinity because it separates the inseparable Persons—the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—into three distinct modes through which
God interacts with the world. God as Father created. God as Son redeemed. And
God as Spirit is sustaining. But modalism says they do these things one at a
time. There’s only ever one active mode of God. Just like you can separate the
chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla parts of Neapolitan ice cream, modalism
separates God.
Eventually, I helped Scott find an ice cream recipe that had
three ingredients, which would become inseparable, and that the internet assured
us could easily be made in a ziplock bag. It wasn’t perfect as an illustration,
but it was pretty good. Everything seemed like it would go well on Sunday. I
even planned to stop by at the end of class to see how it went. When I did, I
found Scott and four middle schoolers washing their hands. “How was the ice
cream?” I asked. “We don’t know. The bag broke before it made,” one of them
told me.
“The bag broke” is actually a pretty good explanation of the
Trinity, even if it wasn’t particularly appreciated by the middle school Sunday
School class. Augustine of Hippo wrote a very, very long book explaining the
Trinity. He concluded it this way, “I have spoken much, and yet come short.
When, therefore, we shall come to Thee, these very many things that we speak,
and yet come short, will cease; and Thou, as One, wilt remain ‘all in all.’”[1] In
other words, the bag broke. No matter how hard we try, we can never explain the
Trinity. We can only experience it.
That's disappointing, because we live in a world of quick fixes and next big things. Honestly,
I’m always looking for that new thing that will completely transform my life. Last
weekend, a friend told me about a new organizational technique called
“Konmari,” which was founded by a Japanese woman named Marie Kondo. I am a
sucker for books on organization. Marie Kondo promises that none of her clients
have ever gone back to being cluttered people. It sounds too good to be true,
doesn’t it?
The fact is, that I want an easy, quick solution. I want
three-ingredient ice cream in a bag. But the Trinity is the opposite of easy,
quick solutions. It’s hard, and it’s incomprehensible, and, frankly, it doesn’t
the emotional appeal of a brand-new, life-changing, can’t-fail Japanese
organizational system. That’s why it’s important. That’s why I need to hear it.
In the Trinity, God reveals to us that the essence of God’s
nature is relationship. When we are told that we are created in God’s image and
likeness, that refers to our own capacity to enter into relationships with
others. But relationships—real relationships—are hard. They’re messy. They’re
complicated. Shortly before Scott and I got married, Jack and Doris Zimmerman
took us out to dinner and gave us some wonderful advice: “The two of you are
going to have a huge fight over something small like toothpaste. That is
normal. That is okay.” And you know what? Two weeks after we got married, we
had a huge fight over laundry detergent. And you know what? It was messy, it
was complicated, but it was okay.
None of our human relationships are like the perfect
relationship that is the Trinity, but they do all participate in that greater
reality. God uses our relationships to help us grow in love, grace, and
holiness. God, who is perfect, self-giving love, is revealed to us as Three in
One and One in Three to remind us that there are no easy fixes, no quick
solutions. We are imperfect, but we are loved. In the waters of baptism, we
weren’t promised an easy answer or a magical charm that would make everything okay.
We were promised a relationship, with all the difficulties that implies on this
side of heaven. We were promised grace to see us through. There are no quick
fixes. There are only broken ziplock bags. There are only relationships, imperfect
reflections of that great relationship that is God, in whose love we find our
truest selves. There is only grace, and that is enough.
Amen.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Breathing in the Spirit
Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 104: 25-35,37
Acts 2:1-21; John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
Sermon for Pentecost Sunday, 5/24/15
Twice in my life when I’ve been made distinctly aware my own breathing, and my complete dependence on it.
When I was around 8, we lived in Nashville, TN in a condo complex – similar to one of those in the May Chapel area. During the school year I made my way to the bus stop running down a fairly sloped hill to the lower side walk and heading to the corner. One morning in early spring, a bit chilly with dew covering the ground. And as I rushed down that slope, both my feet slide right out from under me. Up they went, and down I went – splat on my back. And I stared at the clouds in a beautiful blue sky and for what felt like the longest of seconds – because I could not take a breath.
A slow creeping fear filled my body and I thought – I can’t breathe – and almost simultaneously – gulp – inhale I indeed did. And then I burst into tears, it was terrifying. My mom later told me, oh you got the wind knocked out of you. That’s all.
That’s all? I thought. I felt like I had grown ages with wisdom through this experiential knowledge of not being able to breathe. Like inched closer, in some vague way, to what it must be like to die.
And then two years ago, I attended a conference in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. The conference was in mid-May. The southwest in early summer – I was psyched. Packed all my shorts, t-shirts and flip flops. I probably should have looked at a map (I’m really bad with geography). and checked weather.com. For as I sat on the shuttle bus taking us from the airport to the conference center, winding our way – up and up – I looked at all the snow on the ground and the snow falling – I thought – oh yeah, Rocky mountains, high elevation, later learning 8k feet to be exact. And while it was much colder than I was prepared for – what was worse, much worse was that I couldn’t breathe. We were staying in the main conference part of the center – it’s a YMCA actually, Estes Park, Colorado if you know it – and the dining hall was in an adjacent building, probably about an eighth of a mile away up a slight incline.
The first time I walked up there, with a friend – I sat right down and put my head between my legs saying, I want my mom. Because that was the most succinct phrase I could utter that expressed how helpless I felt. This time the wind hadn’t been knocked out of me because I couldn’t catch my breath. And it made me feel sick and headachy and very out of sorts. For the remainder of the conference – it was a whole week – I was driven back and forth to that dining hall – which also made me feel – well, pathetic.
I never adjusted and I couldn’t wait to get on that mountain. But when I got home – I went running – and wow – felt like a superhero – like I had no idea how much oxygen the good state of Maryland has to share.
And not too long after that I visited a parishioner who is homebound and on oxygen 24/7 – and again I believed I had inched closer to a vague awareness, in some small way, of what that must be like.
Pentecost is about breath. The breath of God that fills a room filled with terrified disciples – infusing them with the Holy Spirit. The breath of God – that ignites a fire in their hearts so they can speak the good news of God in every language available. And the breath of God, described in an odd and prophetic vision from Ezekiel. The prophet is sent into a land that has been decimated and is filled with the bones of a defeated army and civilians. Ezekiel was one of the deported inhabitants of Jerusalem when Babylonians razed their city. And God tells him to go back, be present to the desolation and breathe.
I did some research on breathing this week and learned that on average we take about 12k breaths a day. And if we aren’t doing anything that exerts too much energy, our bodies need us to breathe about 4-6x/minute. Those 4-6 breaths per minute would enable us to 99% of our energy. But, most of us take about 16-20 breaths/minute and access only about 10-20% of the energy available to us. That’s more work for less. That’s energy we don’t use and we never get back.
When I discovered this – I said, well I’m gonna try it. So I got out my phone, tapped stopwatch and “start” – the moment I saw the ticking seconds, I panicked. 1,2,3 – and thought 4-6 breaths isn’t nearly enough for a whole minute. But, calming myself, I made it in 5. And then I tried it again. I sat up straight, put my feet on the ground – pressed “start” – and breathed deeply in and slowly out – and guess what – I did it in 3. And felt calm and relaxed – and prayerful. Let’s try that shall we?
Don’t you feel that change? Don’t you feel that awareness, more connected? You know how we say Yahweh, and you know how that comes from the Hebrew letters – YHWH – which is pronounced – Yod-Heh-Vah-Heh. Ancient Hebrew scholars said that was one reason why the name of Lord should not be pronounced – indeed was not pronounceable – is because the name of God is our very breath itself.
Yod-Heh-Vah-Heh.
In the beginning, the earth was a formless void and the wind of God swept over it (Gen 1:1). God breathed creation into being.
And then God took the dust of the earth, formed it – breathed into it – creating us (1:30).
What is the first thing we need a baby to do when it is born? What is the last thing we do before we die?
You might say then, when we enter this world and leave this world, when we get the wind knocked out of us or we can’t catch our breath – it is the very name of God – Yod-Heh-Vah-Heh that is on our lips.
I think so many of us want to know the Holy Spirit in that way. The elusive peace, inner quiet and connection to God received through prayer and contemplation. And if we do, it is as simple as allowing the breath of God to fill our whole being.
Takes patience and intention though. And the busyness and stress of our lives is probably why we take 16 breaths a minute instead of 4! We breathe up high – we breathe shallow, not deep. And our minds race incessantly – so of course our hearts follow suit. When I took 3 breaths a minute – I had to choose to focus.
Before we got to the wild breath of Pentecost, Jesus went on and on instructing the disciples to abide in God. Abide in me as I abide in the Father. Abide in me and ask for whatever you wish. Abide in my words and my words abide in you. Abide in my love.
It certainly seems to me Jesus is saying we need to prepare for the Spirit of Truth – the Holy Spirit – the Advocate – the Paraclete – by first abiding in God. Could we practice abiding in God by simply recognizing the gift of life that each breath brings? Or is it only when we can’t catch our breath – when our wind gets knocked out of us – literally and metaphorically – that we are made aware of our gifts? Might we invite a deeper connection with the Holy Spirit by intentionally and daily connecting with the breath that God has breathed into us?
Breathe upon these bones, God tells Ezekiel. God’s spirit is the very thing that propels us – energizes us – God’s spirit is all about lifting us up.
So, as we invite the spirit of Pentecost into our lives, I wonder…do we have the patience to take 4-6 slow, deep breaths, a few times a day – allowing the gratitude of life to fill our hearts? Allowing the Holy Spirit to propel us to be present and breathe life into places of desolation the world would rather forget?
As we prayed in our psalm this morning –
God sends forth the spirit so that we are created. And God sends us that Holy Spirit so that we might renew the face of our earth. Amen.
Acts 2:1-21; John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
Sermon for Pentecost Sunday, 5/24/15
Twice in my life when I’ve been made distinctly aware my own breathing, and my complete dependence on it.
When I was around 8, we lived in Nashville, TN in a condo complex – similar to one of those in the May Chapel area. During the school year I made my way to the bus stop running down a fairly sloped hill to the lower side walk and heading to the corner. One morning in early spring, a bit chilly with dew covering the ground. And as I rushed down that slope, both my feet slide right out from under me. Up they went, and down I went – splat on my back. And I stared at the clouds in a beautiful blue sky and for what felt like the longest of seconds – because I could not take a breath.
A slow creeping fear filled my body and I thought – I can’t breathe – and almost simultaneously – gulp – inhale I indeed did. And then I burst into tears, it was terrifying. My mom later told me, oh you got the wind knocked out of you. That’s all.
That’s all? I thought. I felt like I had grown ages with wisdom through this experiential knowledge of not being able to breathe. Like inched closer, in some vague way, to what it must be like to die.
And then two years ago, I attended a conference in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. The conference was in mid-May. The southwest in early summer – I was psyched. Packed all my shorts, t-shirts and flip flops. I probably should have looked at a map (I’m really bad with geography). and checked weather.com. For as I sat on the shuttle bus taking us from the airport to the conference center, winding our way – up and up – I looked at all the snow on the ground and the snow falling – I thought – oh yeah, Rocky mountains, high elevation, later learning 8k feet to be exact. And while it was much colder than I was prepared for – what was worse, much worse was that I couldn’t breathe. We were staying in the main conference part of the center – it’s a YMCA actually, Estes Park, Colorado if you know it – and the dining hall was in an adjacent building, probably about an eighth of a mile away up a slight incline.
The first time I walked up there, with a friend – I sat right down and put my head between my legs saying, I want my mom. Because that was the most succinct phrase I could utter that expressed how helpless I felt. This time the wind hadn’t been knocked out of me because I couldn’t catch my breath. And it made me feel sick and headachy and very out of sorts. For the remainder of the conference – it was a whole week – I was driven back and forth to that dining hall – which also made me feel – well, pathetic.
I never adjusted and I couldn’t wait to get on that mountain. But when I got home – I went running – and wow – felt like a superhero – like I had no idea how much oxygen the good state of Maryland has to share.
And not too long after that I visited a parishioner who is homebound and on oxygen 24/7 – and again I believed I had inched closer to a vague awareness, in some small way, of what that must be like.
Pentecost is about breath. The breath of God that fills a room filled with terrified disciples – infusing them with the Holy Spirit. The breath of God – that ignites a fire in their hearts so they can speak the good news of God in every language available. And the breath of God, described in an odd and prophetic vision from Ezekiel. The prophet is sent into a land that has been decimated and is filled with the bones of a defeated army and civilians. Ezekiel was one of the deported inhabitants of Jerusalem when Babylonians razed their city. And God tells him to go back, be present to the desolation and breathe.
I did some research on breathing this week and learned that on average we take about 12k breaths a day. And if we aren’t doing anything that exerts too much energy, our bodies need us to breathe about 4-6x/minute. Those 4-6 breaths per minute would enable us to 99% of our energy. But, most of us take about 16-20 breaths/minute and access only about 10-20% of the energy available to us. That’s more work for less. That’s energy we don’t use and we never get back.
When I discovered this – I said, well I’m gonna try it. So I got out my phone, tapped stopwatch and “start” – the moment I saw the ticking seconds, I panicked. 1,2,3 – and thought 4-6 breaths isn’t nearly enough for a whole minute. But, calming myself, I made it in 5. And then I tried it again. I sat up straight, put my feet on the ground – pressed “start” – and breathed deeply in and slowly out – and guess what – I did it in 3. And felt calm and relaxed – and prayerful. Let’s try that shall we?
Don’t you feel that change? Don’t you feel that awareness, more connected? You know how we say Yahweh, and you know how that comes from the Hebrew letters – YHWH – which is pronounced – Yod-Heh-Vah-Heh. Ancient Hebrew scholars said that was one reason why the name of Lord should not be pronounced – indeed was not pronounceable – is because the name of God is our very breath itself.
Yod-Heh-Vah-Heh.
In the beginning, the earth was a formless void and the wind of God swept over it (Gen 1:1). God breathed creation into being.
And then God took the dust of the earth, formed it – breathed into it – creating us (1:30).
What is the first thing we need a baby to do when it is born? What is the last thing we do before we die?
You might say then, when we enter this world and leave this world, when we get the wind knocked out of us or we can’t catch our breath – it is the very name of God – Yod-Heh-Vah-Heh that is on our lips.
I think so many of us want to know the Holy Spirit in that way. The elusive peace, inner quiet and connection to God received through prayer and contemplation. And if we do, it is as simple as allowing the breath of God to fill our whole being.
Takes patience and intention though. And the busyness and stress of our lives is probably why we take 16 breaths a minute instead of 4! We breathe up high – we breathe shallow, not deep. And our minds race incessantly – so of course our hearts follow suit. When I took 3 breaths a minute – I had to choose to focus.
Before we got to the wild breath of Pentecost, Jesus went on and on instructing the disciples to abide in God. Abide in me as I abide in the Father. Abide in me and ask for whatever you wish. Abide in my words and my words abide in you. Abide in my love.
It certainly seems to me Jesus is saying we need to prepare for the Spirit of Truth – the Holy Spirit – the Advocate – the Paraclete – by first abiding in God. Could we practice abiding in God by simply recognizing the gift of life that each breath brings? Or is it only when we can’t catch our breath – when our wind gets knocked out of us – literally and metaphorically – that we are made aware of our gifts? Might we invite a deeper connection with the Holy Spirit by intentionally and daily connecting with the breath that God has breathed into us?
Breathe upon these bones, God tells Ezekiel. God’s spirit is the very thing that propels us – energizes us – God’s spirit is all about lifting us up.
So, as we invite the spirit of Pentecost into our lives, I wonder…do we have the patience to take 4-6 slow, deep breaths, a few times a day – allowing the gratitude of life to fill our hearts? Allowing the Holy Spirit to propel us to be present and breathe life into places of desolation the world would rather forget?
As we prayed in our psalm this morning –
God sends forth the spirit so that we are created. And God sends us that Holy Spirit so that we might renew the face of our earth. Amen.
The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Where are We in God's Story?
Feast of Ascension (transferred)
2015 Annual Meeting
5/17/15
Acts 1:1-11
Ephesians 1:15-23
Luke 24:44-53
This
morning we come together and celebrate the Feast of the Ascension. Ascension to God being the final sign to
those disciples that truly, this Jesus is God’s son. It marks the end of one story and the
beginning of another. And interestingly
enough, we just heard the story twice, from two different books, told in two
different ways.
From
our reading in Acts: “In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that
Jesus did and taught from the beginning” (1:1) Let’s start there, “In the first book” – what’s the first
book? Josh, can’t answer. Luke – the gospel of Luke. We are pretty sure that the same author wrote
both books and there are several reasons why, but an obvious clue is in how
they both begin.
Luke
1, verse 1, “Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the
events that have been fulfilled among us….I too decided, after investigating
everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you,
most excellent Theophilus.”
Theophilus
– theo, means God – philia means friend.
Friend of God. Now perhaps the
author was writing this for a particular person named Theophilus – but probably
not. More likely, given the style of the
times, is that it is a term of endearment towards the reader. Oh, you want to hear the story of Jesus – well,
you must be a friend of God. Theophilus
is you – and me.
When
you think about it, it is a story, more so than a person that we follow. I never met Jesus. I don’t think any of you have. We believe in the truths of the stories.
Stories like we heard today that point towards something we can’t describe any
other way.
So
why don’t all the stories harmonize? Why would the same author tell the same story
twice and in two different way? In Acts
– the Ascension takes place 40 days after the resurrection. In Luke – Jesus ascends maybe three days
later – a little while after they’ve been to the empty tomb. Why don’t the stories add up?
Well
a little something about the author of Luke-Acts that I think is important for
us to know. He clearly believed in the
power of a good story. Because the
people he wrote the gospel for, those early gentile followers of Christ, needed
one. Most of Luke’s audience, we think, weren’t Jewish. They did not know the story of God that fills
the whole of the Hebrew Bible.
And
lots of those stories doesn’t add up either. Adam and Eve – the garden, stories
of Creation – and there isn’t one version, but 2
Noah
and the flood and rainbow – great story – made into a movie – and is there one
version? Nope – there’s 2!
And
the list goes on – Abraham and Sarah – Moses – burning bushes – calf idols –
tablets on mountains – Elijah, Elisha – Solomon, Bathsheba, David, Samuel, Ruth
– on and on and on. Story after story of
people and persons – doing what? Making
sense of their experience in the context of a relationship with God.
And
of course you know that all the stories in the Old Testament – and the New for
that matter – are what you could call revisionist history. Written after the fact – sometimes presented
as eyewitness accounts – but written after the fact. I don’t mean it in a negative way – I mean –
its narrative theology. It’s trying to
articulate and share the truth of God through how we interpret individual human
experiences and through generations of social movement.
The
author of Luke-Acts knew the new experiences of Jesus’ followers needed to find
their truth in an ongoing narrative. Which
is why no gospel has better stories than Luke.
How was Christ born in Luke?
Doesn’t just appear like in Mark or John – but there are angels and
shepherds – there is Mary’s cousin Elizabeth who she runs to greet and they hug
and sing – there is Simeon, Elizabeth’s husband, who is rendered speechless in
the temple when he doubts, Zechariah, Anna – so many more characters and sub
plots. You see any movie, watch any pageant – it’s based on Luke’s version because
it conveys the most human drama of Jesus’ story.
So
it’s not all that surprising that Luke dramatically portrays the Ascension
twice. In Luke it’s the end of Jesus’
story which leads to the beginning of ours.
But why aren’t the facts of the stories the same – wouldn’t that help
our belief in something as fantastical as a person being lifted into the
heavens?
Who
would you say makes the greatest documentaries – the greatest stories of our
more recent history? Ken Burns. Civil
War, Baseball, Lincoln, The Dust Bowl, The Roosevelts. He’s has defined the genre for our time as to
how we tell the story of our history. Why
are his films so good?
Ken
Burns says, good stories, one that speak truth, don’t add up. 1 and 1 equaling two, that’s not a story,
it’s a fact. A genuine story about 1 and
1 equaling 3
Love,
God, reason – whatever you call it – the whole of the story is greater than the
sum of the facts.
Abraham
Lincoln wins the Civil War, and decides to go to the theater – that’s a good
story.
When
Thomas Jefferson says – We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men
are created equal – he owned 100 human beings and never saw the contradiction,
never say the hypocrisy, never saw fit in his lifetime to free any one of them
– that’s a good story. Good people who
are flawed, villains who aren’t entirely bad - that’s a good story.
Truth,
Burns said, is a byproduct of the best of our stories. And yet – there are many different kinds of
truths. (Ken Burns: On Story, vimeo.com/40972394)
In
one version of today’s story – Jesus ascends 40 days after the
resurrection. In the other – 3 days
later. Both numbers have significance
that you know and I don’t need to explain (or ask me later). The story needs to connect to the Old and the
New – because the truth of the story is that Jesus is literally God. Did he literally ascend? Does that matter? In your life experience – have you come to
faith because 1 and 1 equal 2? Or because of those times when something totally
unexpected happens and you find that 1 and 1 equal 3?
So
here’s my report – we’ve had another good year at Good Shepherd. When you read and hear about what we’ve done
– and where we are – we are engaged with creating a sanctuary for God and God’s
people – many of us are committed to working towards systemic change around
poverty and trying to deepen relationships in our community. We offer classes and Christian education for
young and old alike. We walk with people
through baptisms and funerals and joys and sorrows of all kinds. We pray.
We know how to put on a great party – and enjoy getting together to eat,
drink and be merry.
But
the story of our times is that church as we traditionally think of it, is being
called to change. The latest Pew
Research study of this week has (www.pewforum.org/2015/05/12/americas-changing-religious-landscape/)
– that we’ve heard about in headline after headline with the news that people continue
to leave the church in droves, especially the millennials among us.
Even
while we are a country where 70% of us say we are Christian. Clearly then, we are a country of Christians
who do not go to a church. And I think
that’s because traditional church is no longer what people want.
We
don’t want institutional hierarchy to tell us how to behave and what doctrine
to believe. We want the truths in
stories, our stories. And we want to be belong to communities where we can tell
our story. Where we can hear the stories
of others – and find the truths that resonate between us.
Let
me talk about how this specifically played out for me this year. Maybe some of you – I imagine many of you –
knew that this year the vestry and I were considering a change to our Sunday
worship schedule. I was – and stress was – of the strong belief that changing
when we worship on Sundays might bring the suburban families that surround us
flocking through our doors.
But
mostly I thought, maybe finally we as a community can stop having a conversation
that has been going on since long before I came: which service schedule is the “best”
one, the “right” one.
So
after a year of meetings, conversations and discernment it finally dawned on
me, “There is no best one! There is no
right one! And actually changing our service schedule right now does not resonate
with scripture story truth.”
Listen
to what the disciples as Jesus as he ascends, after all this time with him,
they are still fixated on knowing the “right” answer, the fix to their problems,
“Jesus, please tell us, when is the time when the kingdom will be restored?
(Acts 1:6)” When is the time the problems will be fixed? And Jesus, surely dumbfounded that they are
still so focused on quick fixes – replies, stop asking that question!
Simply
changing the times we worship on Sunday we will not restore us to perfection. All
it will do is ensure we spend more time debating what the “best” service
schedule is. And most of our answers are based on our own personal preferences,
what works best for me and my family.
Which is fair enough, its how we make most of our decisions.
But
my friends, faith communities that focus on those questions are exactly the
places that people not going to church label “religious, but not spiritual.” And spiritual is what people today are
longing for.
Before
Jesus ascended he tells us – spend all our time spreading the good news (Lk
24:47). Which is the truth at the heart
of every single story of scripture.
Every single story of scripture can be boiled down to a story of
forgiveness and restoration.
Individuals
are forgiven and restored to wholeness within themselves and within
communities. And that is what people are
longing to hear. Those are the stories
people are longing to tell. All the
spiritual but not religious – which is the fastest rising label in our very
Christian country – want to connect their spirit with the spirit of truth! We find the truth in our stories. We are called to create community that makes
space for that to happen.
The
Rev. John Grainger, 2nd rector of this community preached that The Church of the Good Shepherd can never
confuse the busyness of being church with being and sharing the story of Christ
outside our walls. (A. Machen, A Big Little Church on a Hill, 2000) That is what we
are called to do. That is our mission
and our reason for being. That is what
enables each of us to draw ever closer to the grace of God that we are blessed
with each and every day.
So –
as a community that is always looking forward – that is always following a
Savior who did things that didn’t add up.
So let’s have committees and meetings and ministries that focus on the truth
of the story. Let’s find more ways to look at our own holy narratives – share
the forgiveness and restoration that we’ve experienced in our lives with one
another. And let’s invite people to be a
part of our story. Amen.
The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks, Rector
Monday, May 11, 2015
A Church that Shows Our Scars
The Sixth Sunday After Easter, Year B
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs
Acts 10:44-48
I spent this past weekend at the Two-Hundred and Thirty-First Annual Convention of the Diocese of Maryland. Diocesan Convention is important, but whenever I mentioned to any of you last week that I was going to convention, you all said the same thing: "I'm sorry." I can understand why convention has the reputation it does. When the whole diocese gets together at events like Convention, we like to make ourselves feel important. We pull out the pomp and circumstance and Robert’s Rules of Order, and we pass resolutions in an attempt to make ourselves feel relevant. Statistically, fewer and fewer people come to Episcopal churches—or any churches, for that matter—each year, but you wouldn’t know that at a diocesan convention, because we are so busy saying very important things using proper parliamentary procedure. It’s a collective exercise in refusing to be be vulnerable or face hard realities.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on diocesan convention, though, because our reading from the Acts of the Apostles this morning is about a time when Peter refused to be vulnerable. Now you wouldn’t know that from the reading, because the lectionary only gives us five verses of a story that takes an entire chapter of Acts to tell. It starts like this: an angel appears to a man named Cornelius and tells him to send messengers to a man named Peter, who will come and preach the Gospel to him. This is unusual, because Cornelius is a Roman centurion, a gentile. Up until this point, Peter and the other apostles have only preached to other Jews. But Cornelius sends messengers to Peter.
Right before the messengers arrive, Peter has a vision where a voice from heaven tells him to kill and eat some non-kosher animals. Peter refuses, because he has kept kosher his entire life, and in keeping kosher, he dedicates his life to serving God. The voice tells him not to call unclean what God has made clean, but Peter refuses two more times before Cornelius’ messengers arrive. When they do show up, Peter invites them into the house and is a gracious host. He’s happy to be a host, because it means that he’s in charge.He agrees to go with these men to meet Cornelius. But when he gets to Cornelius’ house, Peter suddenly has second thoughts about being a guest. He tells Cornelius, “You know, I really shouldn’t be here.” He’s right—observant Jews weren’t supposed to go into gentiles’ houses and eat gentiles’ food. But Peter suddenly remembers the vision, and he laughs and says, “But God has told me not to call you unclean.” With a little prompting, Peter begins to preach to Cornelius and Cornelius’ family and friends, beginning his sermon, “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.” However, the rest of the sermon is about how Jesus came to preach good news to the children of Israel, and the children of Israel alone. Peter doesn’t ever say that gentiles are acceptable to God.
This, for the record, is where our reading finally begins. The Holy Spirit interrupts Peter’s sermon and falls upon Cornelius and his family and friends, who begin to prophesy and speak in tongues, just like the apostles did on the Day of Pentecost. Peter has to admit that God finds gentiles acceptable, which he’s said plenty of times already, but doesn’t seem to have really believed. So Cornelius and his family are baptized, and Peter finally agrees to be their guest. He gives up control and accepts hospitality, rather than giving it.
For Peter, just like for us, being vulnerable is hard. It’s threatening. Personal confession, it is so much easier for me to offer to pray for you, than to have you offer to pray for me. That would require me to be vulnerable, to be ministered to, rather than to minister. That would upset the stable boundaries that I depend on, boundaries that are demonstrated and enforced by the collar I wear every day. But guess what? God didn’t make those boundaries. We did. God isn’t the one who cares about those boundaries. God wants us to be vulnerable, open to the new things that Holy Spirit is doing among us.
For all we attempted at convention to focus on our own importance as a diocese, rather than being honest and vulnerable, moments of vulnerability crept in. This year, the Rev. Becca Stevens delivered the keynote address to the Convention. Becca is the founder of Magdalene House and Thistle Farms, an amazing ministry based in Nashville, Tennessee that provides housing, training, and jobs for women who have been victims of human trafficking and struggle with addiction. Becca gave this wonderful keynote address, and afterword took questions from the floor. I always groan when questions come from the floor at Convention, because they’re rarely questions; they’re attempts to prove how much smarter the speaker is than everyone else. But this year, a delegate stood up and asked “Do you have resources in California?” He went on to admit that his daughter who lived in California was in active addiction and living on the streets. It was a moment of profound vulnerability, the kind you don’t often see in church. Bishop Sutton stopped everything and lead us in prayer for this man and his daughter, remembering them by name before God. As I look back on this past weekend, that was the moment when we were most truly what the church is called to be. It wasn’t when we debated resolutions. It was when we recognized the gift of vulnerability that was given to us, and met a beloved child of God in the midst of real need.
As wonderful as it is when the church ministers to the vulnerable, I think what’s even more necessary is for us, as a church, to be vulnerable. In our story from Acts, we are not Cornelius. We are Peter, the safe religious insider who is sure he has all the answers. But he doesn’t. We don’t. Only God has all of the answers, and we aren’t God.
What would it cost us to be vulnerable? What would it cost us to become a community where we all can admit our flaws? What would it cost us to respond to one another with grace in the face of imperfection? What would it cost us to lay aside our obsessions with perfection?
Make no mistake, it will cost us something. It cost Peter something to become vulnerable. He had to lay aside his old certainties to follow the Holy Spirit. We will too. But in the face of the need that exists in our city, in our world, what else can we do?
Even after his resurrection, Christ still bears the scars of the crucifixion. Why do we believe that we, who follow Jesus, have to hide ours?
Amen.
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs
Acts 10:44-48
I spent this past weekend at the Two-Hundred and Thirty-First Annual Convention of the Diocese of Maryland. Diocesan Convention is important, but whenever I mentioned to any of you last week that I was going to convention, you all said the same thing: "I'm sorry." I can understand why convention has the reputation it does. When the whole diocese gets together at events like Convention, we like to make ourselves feel important. We pull out the pomp and circumstance and Robert’s Rules of Order, and we pass resolutions in an attempt to make ourselves feel relevant. Statistically, fewer and fewer people come to Episcopal churches—or any churches, for that matter—each year, but you wouldn’t know that at a diocesan convention, because we are so busy saying very important things using proper parliamentary procedure. It’s a collective exercise in refusing to be be vulnerable or face hard realities.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on diocesan convention, though, because our reading from the Acts of the Apostles this morning is about a time when Peter refused to be vulnerable. Now you wouldn’t know that from the reading, because the lectionary only gives us five verses of a story that takes an entire chapter of Acts to tell. It starts like this: an angel appears to a man named Cornelius and tells him to send messengers to a man named Peter, who will come and preach the Gospel to him. This is unusual, because Cornelius is a Roman centurion, a gentile. Up until this point, Peter and the other apostles have only preached to other Jews. But Cornelius sends messengers to Peter.
Right before the messengers arrive, Peter has a vision where a voice from heaven tells him to kill and eat some non-kosher animals. Peter refuses, because he has kept kosher his entire life, and in keeping kosher, he dedicates his life to serving God. The voice tells him not to call unclean what God has made clean, but Peter refuses two more times before Cornelius’ messengers arrive. When they do show up, Peter invites them into the house and is a gracious host. He’s happy to be a host, because it means that he’s in charge.He agrees to go with these men to meet Cornelius. But when he gets to Cornelius’ house, Peter suddenly has second thoughts about being a guest. He tells Cornelius, “You know, I really shouldn’t be here.” He’s right—observant Jews weren’t supposed to go into gentiles’ houses and eat gentiles’ food. But Peter suddenly remembers the vision, and he laughs and says, “But God has told me not to call you unclean.” With a little prompting, Peter begins to preach to Cornelius and Cornelius’ family and friends, beginning his sermon, “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.” However, the rest of the sermon is about how Jesus came to preach good news to the children of Israel, and the children of Israel alone. Peter doesn’t ever say that gentiles are acceptable to God.
This, for the record, is where our reading finally begins. The Holy Spirit interrupts Peter’s sermon and falls upon Cornelius and his family and friends, who begin to prophesy and speak in tongues, just like the apostles did on the Day of Pentecost. Peter has to admit that God finds gentiles acceptable, which he’s said plenty of times already, but doesn’t seem to have really believed. So Cornelius and his family are baptized, and Peter finally agrees to be their guest. He gives up control and accepts hospitality, rather than giving it.
For Peter, just like for us, being vulnerable is hard. It’s threatening. Personal confession, it is so much easier for me to offer to pray for you, than to have you offer to pray for me. That would require me to be vulnerable, to be ministered to, rather than to minister. That would upset the stable boundaries that I depend on, boundaries that are demonstrated and enforced by the collar I wear every day. But guess what? God didn’t make those boundaries. We did. God isn’t the one who cares about those boundaries. God wants us to be vulnerable, open to the new things that Holy Spirit is doing among us.
For all we attempted at convention to focus on our own importance as a diocese, rather than being honest and vulnerable, moments of vulnerability crept in. This year, the Rev. Becca Stevens delivered the keynote address to the Convention. Becca is the founder of Magdalene House and Thistle Farms, an amazing ministry based in Nashville, Tennessee that provides housing, training, and jobs for women who have been victims of human trafficking and struggle with addiction. Becca gave this wonderful keynote address, and afterword took questions from the floor. I always groan when questions come from the floor at Convention, because they’re rarely questions; they’re attempts to prove how much smarter the speaker is than everyone else. But this year, a delegate stood up and asked “Do you have resources in California?” He went on to admit that his daughter who lived in California was in active addiction and living on the streets. It was a moment of profound vulnerability, the kind you don’t often see in church. Bishop Sutton stopped everything and lead us in prayer for this man and his daughter, remembering them by name before God. As I look back on this past weekend, that was the moment when we were most truly what the church is called to be. It wasn’t when we debated resolutions. It was when we recognized the gift of vulnerability that was given to us, and met a beloved child of God in the midst of real need.
As wonderful as it is when the church ministers to the vulnerable, I think what’s even more necessary is for us, as a church, to be vulnerable. In our story from Acts, we are not Cornelius. We are Peter, the safe religious insider who is sure he has all the answers. But he doesn’t. We don’t. Only God has all of the answers, and we aren’t God.
What would it cost us to be vulnerable? What would it cost us to become a community where we all can admit our flaws? What would it cost us to respond to one another with grace in the face of imperfection? What would it cost us to lay aside our obsessions with perfection?
Make no mistake, it will cost us something. It cost Peter something to become vulnerable. He had to lay aside his old certainties to follow the Holy Spirit. We will too. But in the face of the need that exists in our city, in our world, what else can we do?
Even after his resurrection, Christ still bears the scars of the crucifixion. Why do we believe that we, who follow Jesus, have to hide ours?
Amen.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Christians are Called to Get At the Roots
Fifth Sunday in Easter
Acts 8:26-40; Psalm 22:24-30
1 John 4:7-21; John 15:1-8
Jesus said, I am the vine, you are the branches…abide in me, and my words abide in you. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love. John 15:5ff
The well-known theologian Karl Barth of the early 20th century said this – The Christian who wants to know God in their lives simply has one thing to do each day, read the bible and read the newspaper.
Personally I prefer doing that when the news is at a distance. When the gospel imperative to love neighbor as self refers more to neighbors far away – than neighbors 15 minutes south by car. Because as the religious authorities who explained to Pontius Pilate why Jesus should be killed said – the gospel he’s proclaiming stirs the people up! Jesus came proclaiming a new economy, God’s economy that decried the status quo, made people uncomfortable, and stirred things up! Jesus wanted people to change their lives, change the world – bring in the reign of God. And 2,000 years later the message is only relevant if we continue to get stirred up when we hear the words of scripture as we hear the news of our world.
I was on a plane yesterday because I’ve been at Camp Allen outside of Houston, Texas for a church conference. Invite, Welcome, Connect – basically about the thing we have a lot of conferences about these days – how to grow the church. Anyway, coming home on the plane I watched the CBS Evening News on my phone. The lead story was yesterday’s protests in Baltimore. Protests expected to be a repeat of Monday but instead were peaceful. The newscaster said it was almost celebratory because the city had charged the officers who arrested Freddie Gray. The feeling being then that we’d reached some kind of resolution – at least for the time being. The news likes resolutions for the time being.
At my conference, Bishop Andy Doyle of the Diocese of Texas, opened his key note with a quote from Henry Melville, not the author but an 19th century Anglican priest:
“We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.”
What’s life-changing and uncomfortable about the good news of Christ is that Jesus asks us, those who follow him to see the effects and then grapple with the causes.
We just prayed the words of our psalmist – the poor shall eat and be satisfied for Kingship belongs to the Lord. That’s not true in Baltimore, or in Texas, or cities and rural communities throughout our country. Perhaps fibers connect us to one another – but we believe we are branches connected to a vine. What’s challenging and liberating for the Christian is to examine and prune those things in our lives and in our hearts and minds that keep us from seeing and tackling the root causes of cultures of criminality that lead to cultures of police brutality.
Jesus says, abide in me…as I abide in you. Jesus doesn’t say – abide in me, or else your cut off! Jesus doesn’t say – abide in me and if you don’t get it right all the time, I’m done with you. No. Jesus says – abide in me, for I already abide in you. Jesus is here – with us – right now – resurrected life – to like Philip in our story from Acts – encouraging us to cast out fear and go down that wilderness road.
When I was around 10 both my parents worked in Manhattan and we lived on Long Island – the north shore of Long Island which is NY speak for a place very much like Ruxton. I loved days when I got to go into work with them – go into the city, stop at the deli for breakfast, tall office buildings, fancy office phones (I’ve always loved an office – such order!) And I always got to stay up late because we never left the city until after 6 or even 7pm.
One night we were getting on the Long Island Expressway (LIE) via the Triborough Bridge – and I had a Jesus inspired epiphany. “Mom, Dad – I know how we can solve the homeless problem in the city!” (The New York of the 80s was very different than the New York of today) How about all the homeless people simply line up on the bridge, and everyone driving home can simply pick up one or two people with them. They’ll come home with them, get dinner, spend the night, and then in the morning – they can just get a ride back into the city!” Perfect, I thought! And note my cultural conditioning at 10 was assuming everyone had a house like us, big enough to accommodate unexpected hospitality.
My parents smiled, I guess, I was in the backseat – that’s a nice idea, Arianne.
The older I get – the longer I’m a mom – the more I am struck by the similarities of why Jesus said, blessed are the children. Kid logic works in God’s kingdom.
Jesus says, I am the vine and you are the branches if you will keep my commandments you will abide in my love. What is the commandment – simply this - love one another as I have loved you. We call this Agape Love – the all-inclusive neighbor love we celebrate in the feast at that altar. Yesterday Bishop Doyle in his keynote basically told us – we can’t! We can’t house the homeless, as Jesus would – we’re not there yet. And we, Christians today, use the impossibility that confronts us to keep ourselves from entering into relationship. We do Agape Love at a distance. I love my neighbor – over there. Yeah, I love you – just stay over there – don’t come into my world, don’t turn my life upside down.
So what is the love we can get to – you all already know there are 4 kinds of love referred to in the gospels. If Jesus commands us to love, what’s the love we can actually practice that will cut away the assumptions, and cultural conditionings, and fears that fill all our hearts?
Philia - friendship love? Jesus talks about that – no one has greater love than this but to lay down one’s life for their friends. The problem with that though is that we don’t choose friends like Jesus did. Jesus befriended anyone who wanted to be his friend – the sinners, the tax collectors, the prostitutes. That’s not how I make friends. My way has been – hey, I like you! Yeah, we have similar interests – hey, you don’t threaten me – sure great – let’s be friends! I’m joking, kind of. I choose my friends – I’d do almost anything for them – that close circle of people – but that’s it – it’s a close and closed circle. The way you and I do friendship – it’s exclusive – it’s not everyone.
Well – what about eros love – that’s in the bible. Yeah….no. First of all we don’t talk about eros love in church ok – maybe, maybe in premarital counseling. But eros love – that’s really exclusive – and if it isn’t well – that’s a whole ‘nother problem – and I’m not going to talk about it today.
So friendship (philia) love – exclusive – eros love – very exclusive – agape love – its what we’re called to – but – as we prayed in our opening collect we know that love needs to be perfected in us if we were to really and truly follow. But there is the fourth kind of love Paul describes to help Christian communities – affection (storges in Greek) – love one another with mutual affection he says in Romans (12:10). It is the love whereby you approach and treat every human being with mutuality and respect. It’s what Philip is doing in the story we hear from Acts.
What might that mean for us – as a community that prays to live the way, the truth and the life? As a community blessed with resources and means and networks of mutual support? What would life-changing love practices of affection look like for us?
Well – we’d have Blue Jean Sunday here. It’s great we strengthen our relationships working on our beautiful campus. But could we take Blue Jean Sunday downtown? Down a wilderness road to other places our care is needed?
What would it look like here? We’d collect spaghetti sauce and food for Assistance Center of Towson Churches (ACTC) – that’s good, but my friend’s that is “at a distance love!” What if more of us spent time at ACTC – meeting the mothers and fathers and children who are served by that center. We’d listen and get to know the people who use ACTC. And we’d maybe even get stirred up to address the causes that bring them there.
We do this when we go to Habitat in Sandtown or Govins, Paul’s Place in Pigtown – when we go down wilderness roads of Baltimore to be in relationship with the faces of poverty, the children in poverty in communities that are bereft of so many of the resources we have. One by one, group by group, committee by committee, we can do that. We are called to do that. It’s terrifying because it’s life changing. It’s challenging to face the enormous disparities in economies and education north and south of Gittings Avenue – but we believe we abide in God! We believe God’s love casts out fear. The simple steps of mutual affection move hearts towards making real our psalmist prayer - that the poor would eat and be satisfied. Every week we pray, And now father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do – Jesus left this work of love to us.
We are the branches. Jesus is the vine. God is the root – deep down in the ground of eternal time. What seems impossible for us is never impossible for God. From this morning’s epistle - “Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this – those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”
We are called to read the bible and read the newspaper – and get at the roots of what our problems are. Stir the people up – and do the life changing and liberating work of making real the resurrected Christ we say we believe in and say we follow into the wilderness roads of our time – here and now.
The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks
Acts 8:26-40; Psalm 22:24-30
1 John 4:7-21; John 15:1-8
Jesus said, I am the vine, you are the branches…abide in me, and my words abide in you. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love. John 15:5ff
The well-known theologian Karl Barth of the early 20th century said this – The Christian who wants to know God in their lives simply has one thing to do each day, read the bible and read the newspaper.
Personally I prefer doing that when the news is at a distance. When the gospel imperative to love neighbor as self refers more to neighbors far away – than neighbors 15 minutes south by car. Because as the religious authorities who explained to Pontius Pilate why Jesus should be killed said – the gospel he’s proclaiming stirs the people up! Jesus came proclaiming a new economy, God’s economy that decried the status quo, made people uncomfortable, and stirred things up! Jesus wanted people to change their lives, change the world – bring in the reign of God. And 2,000 years later the message is only relevant if we continue to get stirred up when we hear the words of scripture as we hear the news of our world.
I was on a plane yesterday because I’ve been at Camp Allen outside of Houston, Texas for a church conference. Invite, Welcome, Connect – basically about the thing we have a lot of conferences about these days – how to grow the church. Anyway, coming home on the plane I watched the CBS Evening News on my phone. The lead story was yesterday’s protests in Baltimore. Protests expected to be a repeat of Monday but instead were peaceful. The newscaster said it was almost celebratory because the city had charged the officers who arrested Freddie Gray. The feeling being then that we’d reached some kind of resolution – at least for the time being. The news likes resolutions for the time being.
At my conference, Bishop Andy Doyle of the Diocese of Texas, opened his key note with a quote from Henry Melville, not the author but an 19th century Anglican priest:
“We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.”
What’s life-changing and uncomfortable about the good news of Christ is that Jesus asks us, those who follow him to see the effects and then grapple with the causes.
We just prayed the words of our psalmist – the poor shall eat and be satisfied for Kingship belongs to the Lord. That’s not true in Baltimore, or in Texas, or cities and rural communities throughout our country. Perhaps fibers connect us to one another – but we believe we are branches connected to a vine. What’s challenging and liberating for the Christian is to examine and prune those things in our lives and in our hearts and minds that keep us from seeing and tackling the root causes of cultures of criminality that lead to cultures of police brutality.
Jesus says, abide in me…as I abide in you. Jesus doesn’t say – abide in me, or else your cut off! Jesus doesn’t say – abide in me and if you don’t get it right all the time, I’m done with you. No. Jesus says – abide in me, for I already abide in you. Jesus is here – with us – right now – resurrected life – to like Philip in our story from Acts – encouraging us to cast out fear and go down that wilderness road.
When I was around 10 both my parents worked in Manhattan and we lived on Long Island – the north shore of Long Island which is NY speak for a place very much like Ruxton. I loved days when I got to go into work with them – go into the city, stop at the deli for breakfast, tall office buildings, fancy office phones (I’ve always loved an office – such order!) And I always got to stay up late because we never left the city until after 6 or even 7pm.
One night we were getting on the Long Island Expressway (LIE) via the Triborough Bridge – and I had a Jesus inspired epiphany. “Mom, Dad – I know how we can solve the homeless problem in the city!” (The New York of the 80s was very different than the New York of today) How about all the homeless people simply line up on the bridge, and everyone driving home can simply pick up one or two people with them. They’ll come home with them, get dinner, spend the night, and then in the morning – they can just get a ride back into the city!” Perfect, I thought! And note my cultural conditioning at 10 was assuming everyone had a house like us, big enough to accommodate unexpected hospitality.
My parents smiled, I guess, I was in the backseat – that’s a nice idea, Arianne.
The older I get – the longer I’m a mom – the more I am struck by the similarities of why Jesus said, blessed are the children. Kid logic works in God’s kingdom.
Jesus says, I am the vine and you are the branches if you will keep my commandments you will abide in my love. What is the commandment – simply this - love one another as I have loved you. We call this Agape Love – the all-inclusive neighbor love we celebrate in the feast at that altar. Yesterday Bishop Doyle in his keynote basically told us – we can’t! We can’t house the homeless, as Jesus would – we’re not there yet. And we, Christians today, use the impossibility that confronts us to keep ourselves from entering into relationship. We do Agape Love at a distance. I love my neighbor – over there. Yeah, I love you – just stay over there – don’t come into my world, don’t turn my life upside down.
So what is the love we can get to – you all already know there are 4 kinds of love referred to in the gospels. If Jesus commands us to love, what’s the love we can actually practice that will cut away the assumptions, and cultural conditionings, and fears that fill all our hearts?
Philia - friendship love? Jesus talks about that – no one has greater love than this but to lay down one’s life for their friends. The problem with that though is that we don’t choose friends like Jesus did. Jesus befriended anyone who wanted to be his friend – the sinners, the tax collectors, the prostitutes. That’s not how I make friends. My way has been – hey, I like you! Yeah, we have similar interests – hey, you don’t threaten me – sure great – let’s be friends! I’m joking, kind of. I choose my friends – I’d do almost anything for them – that close circle of people – but that’s it – it’s a close and closed circle. The way you and I do friendship – it’s exclusive – it’s not everyone.
Well – what about eros love – that’s in the bible. Yeah….no. First of all we don’t talk about eros love in church ok – maybe, maybe in premarital counseling. But eros love – that’s really exclusive – and if it isn’t well – that’s a whole ‘nother problem – and I’m not going to talk about it today.
So friendship (philia) love – exclusive – eros love – very exclusive – agape love – its what we’re called to – but – as we prayed in our opening collect we know that love needs to be perfected in us if we were to really and truly follow. But there is the fourth kind of love Paul describes to help Christian communities – affection (storges in Greek) – love one another with mutual affection he says in Romans (12:10). It is the love whereby you approach and treat every human being with mutuality and respect. It’s what Philip is doing in the story we hear from Acts.
What might that mean for us – as a community that prays to live the way, the truth and the life? As a community blessed with resources and means and networks of mutual support? What would life-changing love practices of affection look like for us?
Well – we’d have Blue Jean Sunday here. It’s great we strengthen our relationships working on our beautiful campus. But could we take Blue Jean Sunday downtown? Down a wilderness road to other places our care is needed?
What would it look like here? We’d collect spaghetti sauce and food for Assistance Center of Towson Churches (ACTC) – that’s good, but my friend’s that is “at a distance love!” What if more of us spent time at ACTC – meeting the mothers and fathers and children who are served by that center. We’d listen and get to know the people who use ACTC. And we’d maybe even get stirred up to address the causes that bring them there.
We do this when we go to Habitat in Sandtown or Govins, Paul’s Place in Pigtown – when we go down wilderness roads of Baltimore to be in relationship with the faces of poverty, the children in poverty in communities that are bereft of so many of the resources we have. One by one, group by group, committee by committee, we can do that. We are called to do that. It’s terrifying because it’s life changing. It’s challenging to face the enormous disparities in economies and education north and south of Gittings Avenue – but we believe we abide in God! We believe God’s love casts out fear. The simple steps of mutual affection move hearts towards making real our psalmist prayer - that the poor would eat and be satisfied. Every week we pray, And now father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do – Jesus left this work of love to us.
We are the branches. Jesus is the vine. God is the root – deep down in the ground of eternal time. What seems impossible for us is never impossible for God. From this morning’s epistle - “Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this – those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”
We are called to read the bible and read the newspaper – and get at the roots of what our problems are. Stir the people up – and do the life changing and liberating work of making real the resurrected Christ we say we believe in and say we follow into the wilderness roads of our time – here and now.
The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks
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