The Rev. Mariclair Partee
When I first started seminary, not that long ago, I was confused to hear my professors and other learned church folks describe all things Christian as being “Easter-centered”.
As followers of Christ we are Easter People, defined by Christ’s empty tomb on Easter morning. Our 30 year old “new” prayer book is an Easter Prayer Book, as it intentionally re-centers our worshipping life around the resurrection of Jesus, both on the micro-level of sharing in the Eucharistic Feast at every Sunday service, and the macro-level of focusing on the promise of resurrection in every major event in our lives as a church- our holiest days, our ordinations, weddings, baptisms, even funerals where the color of vestments the priests wear was shifted from solemn black to Easter white, all to remind us that we were given life when Jesus triumphed over death.
I quickly added this to my own glossary of church speak, and on this second Sunday of Easter it resonates even stronger. This is the golden time of our liturgical year, the solemnity of Lent has been survived, and the relentless schedule of Holy Week has been completed and the lilies and brass bands and general hustle and bustle of Easter Sunday came off without a hitch and now we can sit back and relax enough to bask in the glow of what we just experienced and say:
Alleluia, alleluia Christ is Risen!
Today we are given a glimpse into what it really means to be an Easter People as Christians- literally in John’s Gospel as we hear of the life of the apostles in the days immediately following Christ’s resurrection, and more metaphorically in the message from Acts and in the Psalms, describing what it looks like to have heaven on earth, how the earliest Christian communities embraced Easter in their daily lives, as brethren lived together in unity, and no one was needy, and no one had more or less than they needed.
And in it all, we have the shadow of Thomas, and his doubt. We’ve all heard so much about Thomas that when I realized I would be preaching about him this week I mentally yawned, because what is there to say about Thomas that hasn’t already been said? In a way I feel bad for him, I see him as that stock foot-in-mouth character from tv shows and movies who has the very bad luck of having the exact person he was talking about standing right behind him. But as I sat with this story this week, I started to see more in Thomas than the blustering oaf who didn’t have enough faith, and I actually started to be very thankful that Thomas wasn’t in the room that first day when Jesus appeared to the other disciples, so that he could say, when he heard about it, that he simply couldn’t believe such a thing to be true without proof. In that moment Thomas let us all off the hook for our very human-ness, stated flat out that this risen Lord thing is a very difficult concept and he would like to ask a few more questions before he bought it, in short- he made it okay for us to be faithful and also admit that we don’t really have all the answers.
Facebook story: I recently reconnected with someone I went to high school with via that most astounding of unifiers- Facebook. After the initial round of “how’s your mama and daddy” and “you are a what?” sort of catching up, he told me that lately he had begun to have questions about the things he had been taught in church, and that he was deeply unsettled by this. He was afraid that after an entire life of unshakeable faith, he was no longer able to believe in God.
I don’t think I am breaking his confidence by discussing our online conversation from the pulpit, not just because you could never pick him out of the 500 folks I graduated with, all of whom seem to be on facebook, but because I realize that, in the unorthodox setting of an online networking community, I was given the opportunity to help someone address the questions that I know I have had and I bet everyone in this room has had at some point, the really basic ones like “How can God allow suffering and evil in the world?” and “How can a God of love condemn those who have never had a chance to learn about Jesus?” and “Is there a hell?”.
I didn’t have any easy answers for my friend, and I don’t have any for us here today. He is growing out of a particular denomination’s answers and searching, like we all have to eventually, for answers he must come up with on his own. But I was thankful for the luxury of talking about these basic parts of our faith, which too often I think we just don’t let ourselves question, afraid to ask about for fear of our ignorance being exposed, for our selves to be exposed as doubters. It is a lot easier to develop strongly held opinions about the esoteric things like incense or architecture or who really owns the church property, and avoid the shame of being a fraud.
Jesus wouldn’t let Thomas off the hook so easily- he offered up the marks of the nails in his hands to be touched and the wound in his side for inspection, and by doing so he let Thomas know that he could have all the physical proof in the world, but without faith in his heart, none of it mattered. All the proof Thomas needed, that any of us need, of God’s existence can be found in the way each of us chooses to live Easter everyday- to love God above all else, and our neighbors as ourselves, because we were shown in sacrifice and an empty tomb the triumph of a life lived not to our own glory, but to the glory of God.
AMEN.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Great Vigil of Easter
The Rev. Mariclair Partee
This is the night.
This is the night- as we heard in the ancient hymn of praise called the Exsultet just moments ago- when we rejoice with choirs of angels and all the company of heaven that Jesus Christ has risen, and lives again. This is the night when two Marys travelled to a tomb with spices and oils to anoint the body of their crucified Lord, and found instead an angel with news of resurrection. This is the night when our faith was formed in Jerusalem 2000 years ago, and we form it again every Triduum as we kindle the new flame out of the darkness, and watch as that single flame grows into a flood of light and we are reminded, once again, that though Christians preach Christ crucified, we are defined by Christ resurrected.
In talking with a wise friend about what I should preach tonight, he said, “Say nothing! On this of all nights the symbols do all the preaching that is needed!”
And it is tempting, to bask in the silence after that beautiful chanting and drama, and appreciate the hard work of the altar and flower guilds and all the other guilds that made tonight’s splendor possible, and say nothing for fear of spoiling the message!
However, as the newest priest on staff, I figure I should earn my keep, so let me say this:
Historically the newest members of the Christian faith were inducted on this night, so that they could begin their new life as Christians as all Christians re-lived the mystery of Christ’s resurrection that gave birth to our religion. Anyone who has ever worked diligently through a confirmation class will feel they got off easy when they hear that these earliest catechumens spent three years in preparation and classes. For three years, they were led out of the church after the liturgy of the word, denied sharing in the Eucharistic feast, until they were deemed ready by their teachers.
We have a first hand account of the process from Egeria, a 4th century pilgrim to Jerusalem:
“On the first day of Lent, the candidates [who have been prepared] are led forward in such a way that the men come with their godfathers and the women with their godmothers. Then the bishop questions individually the neighbors of the one who has come up, inquiring: "Does he lead a good life? Does he obey his parents? Is he a drunkard or a liar?" And he seeks out in the man other vices which are more serious. If the person proves to be guiltless in all these matters . . . the bishop . . . notes down the man's name with his own hand. If, however, he is accused of anything, the bishop orders him to go out and says: "Let him amend his life, and when he has done so let him then approach the baptismal font."”
Those who are deemed proper candidates for baptism then spend the entirety of Holy Week reading the Scriptures and thinking on holy things, so that their minds and bodies are ready for the transformation that is coming.
Other historical documents have allowed us to piece together what happened on the night of the vigil itself, when these initiates were asked questions much like we just were in our renewal of our baptismal vows, then stripped of their clothing to enter the darkened baptistry, stepping one by one down the steps into a pool- not a font like we have here, but a pool large enough for an adult to be submerged in. With each step the water would rise higher on the candidate’s body, until it covered the head. At this point the candidate would probably feel like he or she was drowning, with no sense of the direction to the steps and safety in the darkness. At some point in this confusion and panic, the priest would offer a hand and pronounce the words: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”, and the new Christian would be anointed with holy oil and led from the pool- reborn into a new life in Christ. Then she or he would be wrapped in a new, pristine garment of white cloth, and led into the blinding light of the church, illuminated by hundreds of candles, to participate in the Lord’s supper for the first time.
You can imagine the joy of the new Christian, half-drowned but safe, and clean, and dry, and surrounded by warmth of candlelight and community, warmed inside by the presence of the Lord.
It is no coincidence that this moment in the life of our church happens as the Earth around us is waking from the deep sleep of winter, and the sun is warming the ground so that the grass greens up, the daffodils and tulips and hyacinths spring from the dirt in a riot of color and scent, and nature begins to come to life again. That in itself is the richest sort of symbolism- the whole earth is welcoming the resurrection of Jesus Christ by reminding us of the Loving Creator who made it. And so again we are reminded of that Creator’s love for us, in the sacrifice and resurrection of his son, our Lord on this night-
For tonight our Risen Lord has conquered sin and death, and assured us of everlasting life in him!
This is the night.
This is the night- as we heard in the ancient hymn of praise called the Exsultet just moments ago- when we rejoice with choirs of angels and all the company of heaven that Jesus Christ has risen, and lives again. This is the night when two Marys travelled to a tomb with spices and oils to anoint the body of their crucified Lord, and found instead an angel with news of resurrection. This is the night when our faith was formed in Jerusalem 2000 years ago, and we form it again every Triduum as we kindle the new flame out of the darkness, and watch as that single flame grows into a flood of light and we are reminded, once again, that though Christians preach Christ crucified, we are defined by Christ resurrected.
In talking with a wise friend about what I should preach tonight, he said, “Say nothing! On this of all nights the symbols do all the preaching that is needed!”
And it is tempting, to bask in the silence after that beautiful chanting and drama, and appreciate the hard work of the altar and flower guilds and all the other guilds that made tonight’s splendor possible, and say nothing for fear of spoiling the message!
However, as the newest priest on staff, I figure I should earn my keep, so let me say this:
Historically the newest members of the Christian faith were inducted on this night, so that they could begin their new life as Christians as all Christians re-lived the mystery of Christ’s resurrection that gave birth to our religion. Anyone who has ever worked diligently through a confirmation class will feel they got off easy when they hear that these earliest catechumens spent three years in preparation and classes. For three years, they were led out of the church after the liturgy of the word, denied sharing in the Eucharistic feast, until they were deemed ready by their teachers.
We have a first hand account of the process from Egeria, a 4th century pilgrim to Jerusalem:
“On the first day of Lent, the candidates [who have been prepared] are led forward in such a way that the men come with their godfathers and the women with their godmothers. Then the bishop questions individually the neighbors of the one who has come up, inquiring: "Does he lead a good life? Does he obey his parents? Is he a drunkard or a liar?" And he seeks out in the man other vices which are more serious. If the person proves to be guiltless in all these matters . . . the bishop . . . notes down the man's name with his own hand. If, however, he is accused of anything, the bishop orders him to go out and says: "Let him amend his life, and when he has done so let him then approach the baptismal font."”
Those who are deemed proper candidates for baptism then spend the entirety of Holy Week reading the Scriptures and thinking on holy things, so that their minds and bodies are ready for the transformation that is coming.
Other historical documents have allowed us to piece together what happened on the night of the vigil itself, when these initiates were asked questions much like we just were in our renewal of our baptismal vows, then stripped of their clothing to enter the darkened baptistry, stepping one by one down the steps into a pool- not a font like we have here, but a pool large enough for an adult to be submerged in. With each step the water would rise higher on the candidate’s body, until it covered the head. At this point the candidate would probably feel like he or she was drowning, with no sense of the direction to the steps and safety in the darkness. At some point in this confusion and panic, the priest would offer a hand and pronounce the words: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”, and the new Christian would be anointed with holy oil and led from the pool- reborn into a new life in Christ. Then she or he would be wrapped in a new, pristine garment of white cloth, and led into the blinding light of the church, illuminated by hundreds of candles, to participate in the Lord’s supper for the first time.
You can imagine the joy of the new Christian, half-drowned but safe, and clean, and dry, and surrounded by warmth of candlelight and community, warmed inside by the presence of the Lord.
It is no coincidence that this moment in the life of our church happens as the Earth around us is waking from the deep sleep of winter, and the sun is warming the ground so that the grass greens up, the daffodils and tulips and hyacinths spring from the dirt in a riot of color and scent, and nature begins to come to life again. That in itself is the richest sort of symbolism- the whole earth is welcoming the resurrection of Jesus Christ by reminding us of the Loving Creator who made it. And so again we are reminded of that Creator’s love for us, in the sacrifice and resurrection of his son, our Lord on this night-
For tonight our Risen Lord has conquered sin and death, and assured us of everlasting life in him!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Good Friday
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
We hear the words of this familiar Negro spiritual this day, knowing our journey in this “Great Week” and on this second of the three holiest days ritualizes God’s powerful action of love and freedom for our lives. For the Christian, the action we are invited to is the deepest of intimate moments. The spiritual we sing is crafted by one who clearly is not reflecting ABOUT Jesus on the day of his crucifixion, but instead is a love song being sung by one who KNOWS Jesus. This KNOWING is clearly expressed with a depth of love and intimacy. This Jesus is one who is named as Lord, declaring the author’s willingness to adore, love, and to follow Jesus. To declare as Lord is to find a deep intimacy that leads to complete trust and faith in the one who leads. To declare as Lord is to lose one’s own need to control, to protect, to play it safe, and to risk the losing of much in the hope of gaining something new and unexpected. This is intimacy and trust-defined faithfulness, to follow wherever this Lord may lead. Not without uncertainty, not without trembling, not without grief, but following in spite of it. In this case, the following leads perhaps to the most unexpected of places, to a tree, where there are nails and torture and death. The one who sings this song KNOWS this Lord. What else would be a response to such a circumstance than the very trembling professed, surely a trembling in disbelief, deep grief, and disquiet.
I might suggest this day, as you approach the experience of this ritual, that you consider the question of how we receive the story. Do we receive the story as those who hear about Jesus of Nazareth? Or do we engage the story of one we KNOW, intimately, lovingly, beautifully, in the depth of love, one to whom we dare give our hearts over and follow because we have claimed him and trust him as LORD!
Claiming Jesus as Lord is not an easy thing. First of all, in modern times and in our culture, to call one Lord invites us into a fear that we might be “LORDED OVER” and for a politically-free people, this has negative connotations. Secondly, depending on how we are wired, we may find ourselves of the ilk whose default mode is to manage things on our own. We are apt to be trained to find that extra effort and skill to resolve things on our own. This, in itself, is not a bad approach to life, but oft times, in spiritual matters, is met with futility. Beyond that, we are human beings living in a world where we may not easily become vulnerable to another, vulnerable enough to show our tender spots, our roughest edges, our greatest weaknesses. To do so takes so much trust. Ask yourself this day, really, “Who do you trust?” Who do you trust to be most vulnerable with? Do you feel you KNOW Jesus well enough to let go? To expose your tender spots, your roughest edges, your greatest weakness? To hand your heart over and call him Lord, trusting that he will meet you in those tender places, to meet you in those rough edges, to meet you in that greatest weakness, and not only meet you there but invite you to meet him in his?
I submit to you this day that this meeting of Jesus in this most intimate circumstance is where we may find power and meaning of this day we dare call “Good.” Meeting Jesus in his most vulnerable and tender moment, in his roughest edge, meeting him in his greatest weakness, NO, following our Lord into his greatest weakness, this is perhaps where God’s mysterious power waits for us.
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
Come and know him, see what God can do with the most vulnerable of circumstances. See the paradox of how weakness becomes the crucible for power and new life. It was not a tree, of course, but a tree, if you will, in the shape of a cross that Jesus hangs on today, dies on today. Make no mistake, the cross in Jesus time was a symbol of power, the power of an occupying Roman government that chose crucifixion as the method of capital punishment for those who broke the laws of Rome and for those who posed a political threat. Jesus, our Lord, was executed as a criminal, make no mistake. Remarkable then, isn’t it, that this symbol of judgment and murder would become for followers of Jesus a symbol of God’s power. Why? Because God’s ways of power would be strikingly opposite to the ways of an oppressive government that ruled by fear, instituted a system of economic injustice for the powerful’s gain, and to keep the poorest poor; and whose response to conflict was war and terror. Instead, God would choose to transform the world by showing another way of being whose most powerful weapon was compassion and forgiveness, the core values of Jesus’ life and teaching. For those who follow Jesus to the cross, there we find a symbol not of execution, but of God’s turning weakness into power. For all who KNOW Jesus know that our weakness, our rough spaces, our tender spots, are offered to the world as compassion and forgiveness, the ointment of transformation. Knowing Jesus means knowing God is banking on this power, and it is in you and it is in me.
So we follow our Lord and offer him our hearts, grateful for our meeting him. And on this day, we lay him in the tomb and we wait, for we KNOW there is another day coming.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
We hear the words of this familiar Negro spiritual this day, knowing our journey in this “Great Week” and on this second of the three holiest days ritualizes God’s powerful action of love and freedom for our lives. For the Christian, the action we are invited to is the deepest of intimate moments. The spiritual we sing is crafted by one who clearly is not reflecting ABOUT Jesus on the day of his crucifixion, but instead is a love song being sung by one who KNOWS Jesus. This KNOWING is clearly expressed with a depth of love and intimacy. This Jesus is one who is named as Lord, declaring the author’s willingness to adore, love, and to follow Jesus. To declare as Lord is to find a deep intimacy that leads to complete trust and faith in the one who leads. To declare as Lord is to lose one’s own need to control, to protect, to play it safe, and to risk the losing of much in the hope of gaining something new and unexpected. This is intimacy and trust-defined faithfulness, to follow wherever this Lord may lead. Not without uncertainty, not without trembling, not without grief, but following in spite of it. In this case, the following leads perhaps to the most unexpected of places, to a tree, where there are nails and torture and death. The one who sings this song KNOWS this Lord. What else would be a response to such a circumstance than the very trembling professed, surely a trembling in disbelief, deep grief, and disquiet.
I might suggest this day, as you approach the experience of this ritual, that you consider the question of how we receive the story. Do we receive the story as those who hear about Jesus of Nazareth? Or do we engage the story of one we KNOW, intimately, lovingly, beautifully, in the depth of love, one to whom we dare give our hearts over and follow because we have claimed him and trust him as LORD!
Claiming Jesus as Lord is not an easy thing. First of all, in modern times and in our culture, to call one Lord invites us into a fear that we might be “LORDED OVER” and for a politically-free people, this has negative connotations. Secondly, depending on how we are wired, we may find ourselves of the ilk whose default mode is to manage things on our own. We are apt to be trained to find that extra effort and skill to resolve things on our own. This, in itself, is not a bad approach to life, but oft times, in spiritual matters, is met with futility. Beyond that, we are human beings living in a world where we may not easily become vulnerable to another, vulnerable enough to show our tender spots, our roughest edges, our greatest weaknesses. To do so takes so much trust. Ask yourself this day, really, “Who do you trust?” Who do you trust to be most vulnerable with? Do you feel you KNOW Jesus well enough to let go? To expose your tender spots, your roughest edges, your greatest weakness? To hand your heart over and call him Lord, trusting that he will meet you in those tender places, to meet you in those rough edges, to meet you in that greatest weakness, and not only meet you there but invite you to meet him in his?
I submit to you this day that this meeting of Jesus in this most intimate circumstance is where we may find power and meaning of this day we dare call “Good.” Meeting Jesus in his most vulnerable and tender moment, in his roughest edge, meeting him in his greatest weakness, NO, following our Lord into his greatest weakness, this is perhaps where God’s mysterious power waits for us.
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they pierced him in the side?
Come and know him, see what God can do with the most vulnerable of circumstances. See the paradox of how weakness becomes the crucible for power and new life. It was not a tree, of course, but a tree, if you will, in the shape of a cross that Jesus hangs on today, dies on today. Make no mistake, the cross in Jesus time was a symbol of power, the power of an occupying Roman government that chose crucifixion as the method of capital punishment for those who broke the laws of Rome and for those who posed a political threat. Jesus, our Lord, was executed as a criminal, make no mistake. Remarkable then, isn’t it, that this symbol of judgment and murder would become for followers of Jesus a symbol of God’s power. Why? Because God’s ways of power would be strikingly opposite to the ways of an oppressive government that ruled by fear, instituted a system of economic injustice for the powerful’s gain, and to keep the poorest poor; and whose response to conflict was war and terror. Instead, God would choose to transform the world by showing another way of being whose most powerful weapon was compassion and forgiveness, the core values of Jesus’ life and teaching. For those who follow Jesus to the cross, there we find a symbol not of execution, but of God’s turning weakness into power. For all who KNOW Jesus know that our weakness, our rough spaces, our tender spots, are offered to the world as compassion and forgiveness, the ointment of transformation. Knowing Jesus means knowing God is banking on this power, and it is in you and it is in me.
So we follow our Lord and offer him our hearts, grateful for our meeting him. And on this day, we lay him in the tomb and we wait, for we KNOW there is another day coming.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Maundy Thursday
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
April 9, 2009
There is a Latin word for where we find ourselves tonite. The word is Triduum. It is Latin for three days. Patrick Malloy, the rector of Grace Church in Allentown, who has recently been called to be associate professor of liturgics at General Seminary in New York City, has described the Triduum this way:
“(We have three liturgies that) are really one liturgy.
• Thursday, we experience in the washing of feet and the sharing of the eucharist how servanthood is true risen life.
• Friday, we celebrate Jesus’ victory on the cross and how in our own daily dying, we live.
• Saturday night, we see in fire and the stories of how God saved our ancestors through water and in the eucharist how risen life is now ours, and how we are charged with sharing it.
We have been working and living for this time for a long time. And then comes Sunday with the celebration of the Easter resurrection of Jesus.”
But tonite we focus on incredible, amazing, incomprehensible acts of love performed by Jesus as he provides a meal for his friends and disciples and as he lovingly bathes their feet in an act of humility and servanthood.
Later in this liturgy, after we all have shared in this last supper with our Lord, Mariclare and I will lovingly wash the altar. The accent is on the word, lovingly. This is a night made for love. Not the romantic kind, but the kind that does move the earth and the heavens and the hearts of all of God’s faithful people. This is a big night! And it is all about love.
The offering of bread and wine, the offering of the body and blood of Jesus – these are the things that will connect his disciples to him and to one another forever. It will be their strength. It will be their nourishment. It will be their bond. It will be his continuing presence with them.
Jesus offers one last teaching, one last demonstration of the nature of God’s kingdom that he is bringing into being, one last act which incarnates – which brings to life right there and then – the purpose of his life and ministry, and the nature of God and God’s kingdom.
He does it by washing their feet in a humble and humbling act of love. “The only way to teach the disciples the reality of the kingdom was to get down on his knees and wash their feet.”
The Gospel of John was written decades after the death and resurrection of Jesus to a church that was polarized with division, with contention, with great disputes about who was more right, more righteous, who had the best take on the truth, knew best what God wanted for people, for the world and for the church.
It seems disciples will be disciples no matter in what era they live. The gospel writer obviously felt that the great divisions of the world and the church needed to hear again this final teaching from Jesus that the kingdom of God is defined by love as he has loved and by servanthood as he has served.
And tonight we hear again this message addressed to our world, and to our church, and to us. It seems that things are not much different today. Still self-righteousness, still “my way or the high-way”, still separation of one from anther, still division in the church among the Roman, and the Orthodox, and the Anglican, and the protestant denominations; still between the evangelicals and the social gospel crowd; still between the Episcopal Church USA and the conservative churches of the Anglican Communion, etc., etc. etc.
In the hope that the message, the commandment to love and serve will work deeper into our personal and communal life and practice, we remember once again that “Jesus got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.”
We hear him say again, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord--and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one an-other's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”
My wonderful friend and colleague Bill Lewellis holds dear a vision of how Jesus will greet each of us when we arrive in heaven. Tired and worn, Jesus greets us with a towel tied around him and a ba-sin and water to wash and refresh, as he says “welcome to the banquet that has been prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”
This self-offering and servanthood is not what the people of that time – including the disciples – expected from God, from the Messiah of God, or from the man, Jesus. It is not what people from this day and time expect, either. People do not expect the power of God Almighty to be shown in humbly serving all sorts and conditions of people, especially the lonely, outcast, the sick,
"The tired, the poor,
The huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse on our teeming shore.
The homeless, tempest-tossed,"
The illegal alien, the un-lovely,
The inconvenient, the pesky and the pest.
Whatever the sort and whatever the condition.
They do not expect power to be patient in suffering. They do not expect power to be an offering of love. They do not expect power to have to - or to be able to - endure. They do not expect power to serve others.
The Jesus who offers himself, the Jesus who serves others, the Jesus who goes to the Cross, is the truth of God. It has been said, “The crucified Jesus is the only accurate picture of God the world has ever seen.”
That is the One we are to walk with this Triduum, these three days – and rejoice in on Easter morning – and follow all the days of our life.
April 9, 2009
There is a Latin word for where we find ourselves tonite. The word is Triduum. It is Latin for three days. Patrick Malloy, the rector of Grace Church in Allentown, who has recently been called to be associate professor of liturgics at General Seminary in New York City, has described the Triduum this way:
“(We have three liturgies that) are really one liturgy.
• Thursday, we experience in the washing of feet and the sharing of the eucharist how servanthood is true risen life.
• Friday, we celebrate Jesus’ victory on the cross and how in our own daily dying, we live.
• Saturday night, we see in fire and the stories of how God saved our ancestors through water and in the eucharist how risen life is now ours, and how we are charged with sharing it.
We have been working and living for this time for a long time. And then comes Sunday with the celebration of the Easter resurrection of Jesus.”
But tonite we focus on incredible, amazing, incomprehensible acts of love performed by Jesus as he provides a meal for his friends and disciples and as he lovingly bathes their feet in an act of humility and servanthood.
Later in this liturgy, after we all have shared in this last supper with our Lord, Mariclare and I will lovingly wash the altar. The accent is on the word, lovingly. This is a night made for love. Not the romantic kind, but the kind that does move the earth and the heavens and the hearts of all of God’s faithful people. This is a big night! And it is all about love.
The offering of bread and wine, the offering of the body and blood of Jesus – these are the things that will connect his disciples to him and to one another forever. It will be their strength. It will be their nourishment. It will be their bond. It will be his continuing presence with them.
Jesus offers one last teaching, one last demonstration of the nature of God’s kingdom that he is bringing into being, one last act which incarnates – which brings to life right there and then – the purpose of his life and ministry, and the nature of God and God’s kingdom.
He does it by washing their feet in a humble and humbling act of love. “The only way to teach the disciples the reality of the kingdom was to get down on his knees and wash their feet.”
The Gospel of John was written decades after the death and resurrection of Jesus to a church that was polarized with division, with contention, with great disputes about who was more right, more righteous, who had the best take on the truth, knew best what God wanted for people, for the world and for the church.
It seems disciples will be disciples no matter in what era they live. The gospel writer obviously felt that the great divisions of the world and the church needed to hear again this final teaching from Jesus that the kingdom of God is defined by love as he has loved and by servanthood as he has served.
And tonight we hear again this message addressed to our world, and to our church, and to us. It seems that things are not much different today. Still self-righteousness, still “my way or the high-way”, still separation of one from anther, still division in the church among the Roman, and the Orthodox, and the Anglican, and the protestant denominations; still between the evangelicals and the social gospel crowd; still between the Episcopal Church USA and the conservative churches of the Anglican Communion, etc., etc. etc.
In the hope that the message, the commandment to love and serve will work deeper into our personal and communal life and practice, we remember once again that “Jesus got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.”
We hear him say again, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord--and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one an-other's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”
My wonderful friend and colleague Bill Lewellis holds dear a vision of how Jesus will greet each of us when we arrive in heaven. Tired and worn, Jesus greets us with a towel tied around him and a ba-sin and water to wash and refresh, as he says “welcome to the banquet that has been prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”
This self-offering and servanthood is not what the people of that time – including the disciples – expected from God, from the Messiah of God, or from the man, Jesus. It is not what people from this day and time expect, either. People do not expect the power of God Almighty to be shown in humbly serving all sorts and conditions of people, especially the lonely, outcast, the sick,
"The tired, the poor,
The huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse on our teeming shore.
The homeless, tempest-tossed,"
The illegal alien, the un-lovely,
The inconvenient, the pesky and the pest.
Whatever the sort and whatever the condition.
They do not expect power to be patient in suffering. They do not expect power to be an offering of love. They do not expect power to have to - or to be able to - endure. They do not expect power to serve others.
The Jesus who offers himself, the Jesus who serves others, the Jesus who goes to the Cross, is the truth of God. It has been said, “The crucified Jesus is the only accurate picture of God the world has ever seen.”
That is the One we are to walk with this Triduum, these three days – and rejoice in on Easter morning – and follow all the days of our life.
The Fifth Sunday in Lent
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
March 29, 2009
John 12:20-33
I climbed into the pulpit to preach one Sunday, not into this pulpit but one where I was the guest preacher. In the pulpit on the little wooden stand for notes was a small brass plaque, dark with the venerable age of the early 20th century. The plaque contained a short message for the preacher, each preacher privileged to climb the steps to preach. In the language of King James it read, “Sir, we would see Jesus.”
I imagine that you, too, are here today to see Jesus; to see Jesus so that, as the old hymn goes, you will be better able to:
See him more clearly.
Love him more dearly.
Follow him more nearly day by day.
So have you taken into yourself this hope from today’s Gospel story? You have come here today, and perhaps you wait hopefully, expectantly, even attentively to see Jesus. I pray you do.
What is it that you hear when Jesus says, “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself”?
I want to explore with you for a few minutes what it means for Jesus to say that judgment of the world has been rendered; that the ruler of the world has been thrown out.
What would it mean for you if today the ruler of the world were really driven out? What would it mean if the ruler of you were driven out? What would it mean if those powers to which you feel subject were driven out? The power of not having enough? The power of not being good enough? The power of the now, over the future of what could be? The power of a life of insufficiency? The power of me first? The power of what was? The power of the status quo? The power of the fear of the unknown?
What is it? Which is it for you?
Do you remember hearing a child say to an older more powerful child, “You’re not the boss of me”? Well, who or what is trying to be the boss of you? What power or powers rule, govern, guide your life, your behavior, your actions, your goals? What if today they were driven out and you became truly free? Think about it.
Free to be. Free to do. Free to dream. Free to live a dream. Do you have a dream waiting to be lived?
Remember that dream spoken of on the mall in Washington.
"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!"
And look at what’s happened since then?
If you have a dream, what’s keeping you from living into it? What ruler prevents you from living toward it, reaching for it? If there is something in the way of you and your living into your dream, well that is a power that rules over you. What if today that ruler of your world was driven by out by Jesus Christ?
If you can say, Jesus is Lord, then you are on the way to recognizing the truth that Jesus is Lord, the Lord of you, and the other rulers of your world have been driven out. You are on the way to knowing there is nothing between you and Jesus. There is nothing between you and the true you, the one God created you to be.
If you truly believe Jesus is Lord, then you have been freed from the powers of this world. There is nothing between you and the person you are created to be, and you are free to live that way – now.
“The judgment of this world” is the climax of Jesus’ work on earth, the end of everything that separates us from one another and from God and from our true selves. It is nothing less than the answer to our prayer that God's kingdom come and God's will be done -- on earth and in us, as it is in heaven. And nothing else has a hold on us.
Are you waiting to use your voice, your power, your life for some purpose until you've got the education, the money, the institutional clearance, the world's permission? Why are you waiting if the time is now. If there's something you're passionate about, some possibility that has ignited your imagination, some dream perhaps to make some corner of the world a little more like the visible sign of God's love, God's peace, God's justice, and God's blessing, you need no permission from the rulers of this world or of your world. They have been driven out.
We are very close to Holy Week and looking toward the journey of Jesus to the Cross. The Cross is the judgment God renders on this world. It is the end of everything that separates us from one another and from God and from our true selves.
Listen to how St. Paul puts it. "If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? … Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? …No… For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." – Romans 8:31-39
If Paul is right that Jesus is right, then we don't need to fear. We need to follow. When Jesus is lifted up, he draws all people to him. The God we see in Jesus Christ, the God who created the universe – the God who created you, and redeemed you, and calls you, and loves you – that God is still drawing the universe toward the dream for which it – and you – ache. That God is calling you. He is the one who has already freed you from the rulers of this world.
Is this the Jesus you see? If it is, follow him.
March 29, 2009
John 12:20-33
I climbed into the pulpit to preach one Sunday, not into this pulpit but one where I was the guest preacher. In the pulpit on the little wooden stand for notes was a small brass plaque, dark with the venerable age of the early 20th century. The plaque contained a short message for the preacher, each preacher privileged to climb the steps to preach. In the language of King James it read, “Sir, we would see Jesus.”
I imagine that you, too, are here today to see Jesus; to see Jesus so that, as the old hymn goes, you will be better able to:
See him more clearly.
Love him more dearly.
Follow him more nearly day by day.
So have you taken into yourself this hope from today’s Gospel story? You have come here today, and perhaps you wait hopefully, expectantly, even attentively to see Jesus. I pray you do.
What is it that you hear when Jesus says, “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself”?
I want to explore with you for a few minutes what it means for Jesus to say that judgment of the world has been rendered; that the ruler of the world has been thrown out.
What would it mean for you if today the ruler of the world were really driven out? What would it mean if the ruler of you were driven out? What would it mean if those powers to which you feel subject were driven out? The power of not having enough? The power of not being good enough? The power of the now, over the future of what could be? The power of a life of insufficiency? The power of me first? The power of what was? The power of the status quo? The power of the fear of the unknown?
What is it? Which is it for you?
Do you remember hearing a child say to an older more powerful child, “You’re not the boss of me”? Well, who or what is trying to be the boss of you? What power or powers rule, govern, guide your life, your behavior, your actions, your goals? What if today they were driven out and you became truly free? Think about it.
Free to be. Free to do. Free to dream. Free to live a dream. Do you have a dream waiting to be lived?
Remember that dream spoken of on the mall in Washington.
"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!"
And look at what’s happened since then?
If you have a dream, what’s keeping you from living into it? What ruler prevents you from living toward it, reaching for it? If there is something in the way of you and your living into your dream, well that is a power that rules over you. What if today that ruler of your world was driven by out by Jesus Christ?
If you can say, Jesus is Lord, then you are on the way to recognizing the truth that Jesus is Lord, the Lord of you, and the other rulers of your world have been driven out. You are on the way to knowing there is nothing between you and Jesus. There is nothing between you and the true you, the one God created you to be.
If you truly believe Jesus is Lord, then you have been freed from the powers of this world. There is nothing between you and the person you are created to be, and you are free to live that way – now.
“The judgment of this world” is the climax of Jesus’ work on earth, the end of everything that separates us from one another and from God and from our true selves. It is nothing less than the answer to our prayer that God's kingdom come and God's will be done -- on earth and in us, as it is in heaven. And nothing else has a hold on us.
Are you waiting to use your voice, your power, your life for some purpose until you've got the education, the money, the institutional clearance, the world's permission? Why are you waiting if the time is now. If there's something you're passionate about, some possibility that has ignited your imagination, some dream perhaps to make some corner of the world a little more like the visible sign of God's love, God's peace, God's justice, and God's blessing, you need no permission from the rulers of this world or of your world. They have been driven out.
We are very close to Holy Week and looking toward the journey of Jesus to the Cross. The Cross is the judgment God renders on this world. It is the end of everything that separates us from one another and from God and from our true selves.
Listen to how St. Paul puts it. "If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? … Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? …No… For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." – Romans 8:31-39
If Paul is right that Jesus is right, then we don't need to fear. We need to follow. When Jesus is lifted up, he draws all people to him. The God we see in Jesus Christ, the God who created the universe – the God who created you, and redeemed you, and calls you, and loves you – that God is still drawing the universe toward the dream for which it – and you – ache. That God is calling you. He is the one who has already freed you from the rulers of this world.
Is this the Jesus you see? If it is, follow him.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Palm Sunday Homily-Sunday April 5, 2009
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
The Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
" Throughout the whole week, beginning from to-morrow, let us all assemble in the martyrium, that is, in the great church, at the ninth hour." This is the instruction as recorded by Egeria, a nun and a pilgrim to Jerusalem in the late fourth century. The instruction is given by the Archdeacon and is part of the ritual of Holy week as experienced by those who would travel to Jerusalem seeking through ritual a connection with Jesus. The instruction was the beginning of invitation for what would be called the Great Week, or as we call it today Holy Week. Our ritual today in this liturgy of Palm Sunday finds its roots in the early experiences of Pilgrims to Jerusalem.
Someone once said that to recognize the signs of God, pay attention to your stirrings. Look closely when you feel the swell of joy within, or the tightness as your throat closes up in sorrow. Live in that moment, poke around in its corners, and feel the texture of its walls. Sit with it for awhile, long enough to sense the presence of God sitting with you.(1)
Today we begin our ritual gifted by a tradition of pilgrimage dating back to the fourth century. We begin our “Great Week” with ritual opportunities to recognize and pay attention to signs of God. Today in our Palm Sunday ritual we have shared our enthusiasm and affection for our Lord by welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem riding on a donkey while onlookers sing Hosannas and wave palms. In the ritual we are reminded that both the donkey and the palms were signs of royalty in the ancient world. The fact that Jesus chose a donkey over a horse to ride was also significant. Kings at war rode horses; kings entering in peace rode donkeys. Jesus comes to Jersualem very intentionally embodying a peacefulness of his kingdom theology. Those expecting a military kingship to smite enemies and restore Israel, would need to look elsewhere. Jesus also comes with courage. Jesus is surely aware his entry into Jerusalem will catch the attention and despise of Roman authorities and Jewish religious leaders. This Jesus is remarkable in his insistence to ride into the roughest of circumstance so that love may have its day.
Our ritual today has brought us to meet him. We bring our hopes and expectations whatever they may be to Jesus and we have waived our palm branches and have sung All Glory Laud and Honor in welcome. Then not too long after we join voices in shouting “Crucify him! Crucify him!” We are remarkable at times in our inability to hold the course in following him. It is a human experience isn’t it, to savor the opportunity to join in the goodness and fervor of worshipping the triumphant nature of Christ, we do after all like to be on the winning side, And at another moment to find ourselves pushing Christ away, losing sight of our call to follow Jesus into the roughest of places.
It is startling then isn’t it, that we end up at the foot of the cross and there find instead of rejection, arms stretched wide with an embrace of forgiveness. Glancing through the shadow of the cross we see a light of new life. There is a chance for us after all. How remarkable is this Jesus?
Welcome to the Great Week. Welcome to this week of ritual that promises much. Pay attention to your stirrings. Look closely when you feel the swell of joy within, or the tightness as your throat closes up in sorrow. Live in that moment, poke around in its corners, and feel the texture of its walls. Sit with it for awhile, long enough to sense the presence of God sitting with you.(1)
(1) Reference taken from www.explorefaith.org
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
The Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
" Throughout the whole week, beginning from to-morrow, let us all assemble in the martyrium, that is, in the great church, at the ninth hour." This is the instruction as recorded by Egeria, a nun and a pilgrim to Jerusalem in the late fourth century. The instruction is given by the Archdeacon and is part of the ritual of Holy week as experienced by those who would travel to Jerusalem seeking through ritual a connection with Jesus. The instruction was the beginning of invitation for what would be called the Great Week, or as we call it today Holy Week. Our ritual today in this liturgy of Palm Sunday finds its roots in the early experiences of Pilgrims to Jerusalem.
Someone once said that to recognize the signs of God, pay attention to your stirrings. Look closely when you feel the swell of joy within, or the tightness as your throat closes up in sorrow. Live in that moment, poke around in its corners, and feel the texture of its walls. Sit with it for awhile, long enough to sense the presence of God sitting with you.(1)
Today we begin our ritual gifted by a tradition of pilgrimage dating back to the fourth century. We begin our “Great Week” with ritual opportunities to recognize and pay attention to signs of God. Today in our Palm Sunday ritual we have shared our enthusiasm and affection for our Lord by welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem riding on a donkey while onlookers sing Hosannas and wave palms. In the ritual we are reminded that both the donkey and the palms were signs of royalty in the ancient world. The fact that Jesus chose a donkey over a horse to ride was also significant. Kings at war rode horses; kings entering in peace rode donkeys. Jesus comes to Jersualem very intentionally embodying a peacefulness of his kingdom theology. Those expecting a military kingship to smite enemies and restore Israel, would need to look elsewhere. Jesus also comes with courage. Jesus is surely aware his entry into Jerusalem will catch the attention and despise of Roman authorities and Jewish religious leaders. This Jesus is remarkable in his insistence to ride into the roughest of circumstance so that love may have its day.
Our ritual today has brought us to meet him. We bring our hopes and expectations whatever they may be to Jesus and we have waived our palm branches and have sung All Glory Laud and Honor in welcome. Then not too long after we join voices in shouting “Crucify him! Crucify him!” We are remarkable at times in our inability to hold the course in following him. It is a human experience isn’t it, to savor the opportunity to join in the goodness and fervor of worshipping the triumphant nature of Christ, we do after all like to be on the winning side, And at another moment to find ourselves pushing Christ away, losing sight of our call to follow Jesus into the roughest of places.
It is startling then isn’t it, that we end up at the foot of the cross and there find instead of rejection, arms stretched wide with an embrace of forgiveness. Glancing through the shadow of the cross we see a light of new life. There is a chance for us after all. How remarkable is this Jesus?
Welcome to the Great Week. Welcome to this week of ritual that promises much. Pay attention to your stirrings. Look closely when you feel the swell of joy within, or the tightness as your throat closes up in sorrow. Live in that moment, poke around in its corners, and feel the texture of its walls. Sit with it for awhile, long enough to sense the presence of God sitting with you.(1)
(1) Reference taken from www.explorefaith.org
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