The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
May 28, Easter 7B
Acts 1:15-17, 21-26
One of the highlights of my childhood was the annual Feast of Lights pageant in my parish. It was like a Christmas pageant except it covered more of the story and was presented on the Feast of Epiphany (January 6). It began with creation and followed our salvation story through the birth of Christ to the beginning of the Church. As such it included the calling of the twelve apostles. One of the featured roles was that of Judas. The older children in the pageant each carried a lighted candle. When Judas was named as the one who betrayed Jesus, that person dramatically blew out his candle and ran from the church. He would return later in the pageant dressed as Mathias (an envied costume change).
To this day, I still remember what it felt like to hear “and Judas who betrayed him” and watch that boy blow out his candle. It was as if the light of Christ within him had been extinguished. It was as if Judas no longer existed, as if he had been Xed out.
In her beautiful children’s book The Wind through the Door, Madeline L’Engle writes about a young girl named Meg who meets a cherubim. They are sent on a special mission and Meg learns that she is called to be a Namer: someone who recognizes the true self of others and names them. She is called to help people know who they are. As the Cherubim explains the chief weapon of the fallen angels is un-naming—making people not know who they are. Meg is given the difficult task of naming Mr. Jenkins, her high school principal whom she deplores (and with good reason).
“If I hate Mr. Jenkins whenever I think of him, am I Naming him?” she asks the cherubim.
“You’re Xing him,…when people don’t know who they are, they are open either to be Xed, or Named.”
Did Judas know who he was? Did he fall prey to a fallen angel, to Satan? Was he unnamed? Who was Judas called to be?
Judas has received much attention recently due to a 1700-year-old codex containing a writing called the Gospel of Judas. A brief history: for several hundred years after the death and resurrection of Jesus many people wrote about what they saw or heard or thought had happened. Part of the work of the early church was sorting through these accounts and deciding which had veracity, which held truth and contained God’s revelation. One of these many accounts written was called the Gospel of Judas. This Gospel does not purport to be written by Judas, but rather to be a secret account of a conversation between Jesus and Judas a few days before the crucifixion. Scholars knew it was out there somewhere because other early writers referred to it; most notably Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyon, in 180. So why did this come to light now? Because the document containing this gospel was lost for more than a thousand years. The codex was discovered in Egypt (preserved by the dry dessert heat) and sold as an antiquity. Written in Coptic, it was stored---untranslated. It was sold again and put in a safety deposit box in New York for 16 years--where it deteriorated. Someone found it, restored it, pieced it together, and translated it. This spring it hit the front page of local newspapers. You can read it online or in print from the National Geographic Society---it is only about seven pages long.
One reason at least that this was big news is the number of people who thought it might shed some light on this betrayer of all betrayers. After all, the name Judas is notorious. To be a Judas is not a good thing. The question in almost every news report was, “Was Judas destined to betray Jesus?” But I think our question is an even deeper one. Can Judas be redeemed?
It seems that the early Church was satisfied with the explanation that Judas was somehow preordained to be a betrayer. This is what Peter says in the Book of Acts; “Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus.” Scripture had to be fulfilled. It’s a fine thing for Peter to say. It’s not like he ever betrayed Jesus---or denied him three times, after he swore he never would. It’s not like the other members of “The Twelve” were deserters--who ran away after Jesus was arrested and left him to die on the cross alone (it is the women, and the one beloved disciple who are found at the foot of the cross).
It is after all convenient for Peter, and for us, to have someone to pin it all on. We don’t have to think of our own capacity to deny, to betray. After all, we didn’t do what Judas did. We didn’t betray Christ. We have never disappointed someone we loved, never made a bad choice, never felt pressured by those in power. We have never been less than who we are, never been vulnerable and open to unnaming. We have never been beyond redemption. This is what I truly believe is behind our fascination with Judas. This is what is behind the question, can Judas be redeemed. Can someone who failed so miserably in the very face of Christ be redeemed? Can we be redeemed? This is the real question. Where is the point of no return? When have I crossed the line and am beyond God’s loving salvation?
From the Cherubim Meg learns that the way to name someone is to love them. Not to feel love for them, naming is not an emotional thing, but to love them. To make loving choices towards them. To act with love. How do we love Judas? How do we love Peter? How do we love those who betray us? How do we love ourselves when we betray our very souls? Are we ever beyond redemption? Beyond love? Unlovable? Unnamed?
Judas has captured the imagination of others before now. In 1928 Thornton Wilder published a volume of 3 minute plays (which he wrote in high school and college). One is called Hast Thou Considered my Servant Job? The three characters are Satan, Judas, and Christ. Taking its title from the Book of Job (in which God tells Satan that he may test his faithful servant Job) the prologue of this play suggests that Judas is the servant of Satan, evil and faithless. As God allowed Satan to tempt Job, so Satan allows Christ to tempt Judas. The setting is after Christ’s death. As Christ ascends to his place he pauses by the realm of Satan. Satan expresses his surprise and delight at Christ’s defeat. He can hardly believe how all betrayed this Son of God. And where is his beloved fiend Judas? Judas appears, black ligature marks still visible on his neck. Satan welcomes him home. But rather than crossing to him, Judas casts the thirty pieces away from him in revulsion.
Satan speaks, “What have they done to you, …why don’t you speak to me, my son, my treasure!”
Judas is silent, eyes downcast.
Christ says to him, “Speak to him then, my beloved son.”
Judas speaks softly to Satan, “Accursed be thou, from eternity to eternity.”
The two mount upward to their due place. And Satan remains to this day, uncomprehending, upon the pavement of hell.
After all, Judas did repent. What is offered to all who repent? Where is the end of God’s redeeming power? There is no end to God’s love.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The Sixth Sunday of Easter: Endurance
Elizabeth Yale
May 21, 2006
Matthew 22:15-22
John 15:9-17
Endurance
Endurance. It means a lot. “How many more miles,” wonders the tired, torn, churning racer. “How many days left,” wonders the broken, beaten child sitting on the floor of his jail cell, or even just behind a desk watching his teacher, back and forth, back and forth, knowing that summer is just a few more weeks away. “How much longer, how much longer will this last,” wonders the abused child hiding from her father. “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the dirty discouraged preacher, “until a break in the clouds.” “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the muddled and angry mother, knowing that her baby is crying and hasn’t ever had enough to eat.
Endurance. We tell ourselves one day at a time, one week, one hour! Yet, inside we still sit and wonder how much more, how much longer must we endure? We look for guidance--all we receive from God and the scriptures is: have patience, endure, wait. Four little words which bring us through all the bad times with the hope of something different, perhaps even better. Unfortunately, this is one of the worst times for a new Christian and certainly no easy pickle for an old one either. The world comes crashing down, you fall into the black abyss of pain, and all God can say, or will say, is: have patience, endure wait.
In our impatience, we cry out, wait for what? We need to fix this, we need help, NOW! What will help us later? Things will be better then! Yet, still God remains solid, a rock: have patience, endure, wait. The problems of this world have us calling out to God, what is going on? Why are you not doing something about this? And again God tells us: have patience, endure. But, there is no waiting involved here. No, a little voice, a faint echo, comes back from the great black abyss. Why aren’t you doing anything about it? For that is what you are called to do. And that is what we are called to do. We are here as God’s children, to take care of all God’s children, and to help God’s children to love.
The multitude of feelings, emotions and moments that come out of this working for others, this caring for others, can itself tear us down and build us up. This work and care can confuse us past belief, and then give us sweet moments of epiphany and understanding. Then, we can call out into the black abyss with words of praise, thanksgiving, and rejoicing. Words like, thank you Lord! I can, we can, with your help do something about this and in the process, look who we find, you, God! Persistently, that little voice, the faint echo from beyond the abyss always has the last say. Softly it comes, “See, God does work in the world, he does so through the people, his Children--you.”
In our praise, thanksgiving, and joy, we remember Paul’s words to the Corinthians, that so sadly, we forget in our suffering and pain, and in the suffering and pain all around us. Though we may be afflicted, perplexed, persecuted and struck down, with God on our side, we will never be crushed, driven to despair, forsaken or destroyed. God has given us this Great news: through everything, we can endure. Unfortunately, there are thousands of people, parents, and children, believing themselves to be crushed and forsaken. But that is why we are here: to celebrate the true life God has given us and to share it with others. Through showing, sharing, telling, we show the world that all people are God’s people and that all children are God’s children.
Every single child deserves the very best. They are, after all, all God’s children. We wouldn’t want to treat God with anything less than our best--because we have found God in everyone around us, from the happy child to the lonely older widow. By working with people and walking the road of life, journeying, enduring with them, God calls us to follow Jesus’ commands: to love everyone as God has loved us, and to give to God the things that are God’s. We are called in prayer and in works to do the best we can. Because, it is only by giving our best to all those around us, and to those we reach out to, that we can ever possibly hope to give our best to God. And if you ever fail, and you will, we all do, I have some reminders: laugh, remember that there have always been hard times and you have made it through before, and know that you are never forsaken or destroyed, that with God, and God is always with you, you can take what tomorrow brings. You can endure.
May 21, 2006
Matthew 22:15-22
John 15:9-17
Endurance
Endurance. It means a lot. “How many more miles,” wonders the tired, torn, churning racer. “How many days left,” wonders the broken, beaten child sitting on the floor of his jail cell, or even just behind a desk watching his teacher, back and forth, back and forth, knowing that summer is just a few more weeks away. “How much longer, how much longer will this last,” wonders the abused child hiding from her father. “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the dirty discouraged preacher, “until a break in the clouds.” “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the muddled and angry mother, knowing that her baby is crying and hasn’t ever had enough to eat.
Endurance. We tell ourselves one day at a time, one week, one hour! Yet, inside we still sit and wonder how much more, how much longer must we endure? We look for guidance--all we receive from God and the scriptures is: have patience, endure, wait. Four little words which bring us through all the bad times with the hope of something different, perhaps even better. Unfortunately, this is one of the worst times for a new Christian and certainly no easy pickle for an old one either. The world comes crashing down, you fall into the black abyss of pain, and all God can say, or will say, is: have patience, endure wait.
In our impatience, we cry out, wait for what? We need to fix this, we need help, NOW! What will help us later? Things will be better then! Yet, still God remains solid, a rock: have patience, endure, wait. The problems of this world have us calling out to God, what is going on? Why are you not doing something about this? And again God tells us: have patience, endure. But, there is no waiting involved here. No, a little voice, a faint echo, comes back from the great black abyss. Why aren’t you doing anything about it? For that is what you are called to do. And that is what we are called to do. We are here as God’s children, to take care of all God’s children, and to help God’s children to love.
The multitude of feelings, emotions and moments that come out of this working for others, this caring for others, can itself tear us down and build us up. This work and care can confuse us past belief, and then give us sweet moments of epiphany and understanding. Then, we can call out into the black abyss with words of praise, thanksgiving, and rejoicing. Words like, thank you Lord! I can, we can, with your help do something about this and in the process, look who we find, you, God! Persistently, that little voice, the faint echo from beyond the abyss always has the last say. Softly it comes, “See, God does work in the world, he does so through the people, his Children--you.”
In our praise, thanksgiving, and joy, we remember Paul’s words to the Corinthians, that so sadly, we forget in our suffering and pain, and in the suffering and pain all around us. Though we may be afflicted, perplexed, persecuted and struck down, with God on our side, we will never be crushed, driven to despair, forsaken or destroyed. God has given us this Great news: through everything, we can endure. Unfortunately, there are thousands of people, parents, and children, believing themselves to be crushed and forsaken. But that is why we are here: to celebrate the true life God has given us and to share it with others. Through showing, sharing, telling, we show the world that all people are God’s people and that all children are God’s children.
Every single child deserves the very best. They are, after all, all God’s children. We wouldn’t want to treat God with anything less than our best--because we have found God in everyone around us, from the happy child to the lonely older widow. By working with people and walking the road of life, journeying, enduring with them, God calls us to follow Jesus’ commands: to love everyone as God has loved us, and to give to God the things that are God’s. We are called in prayer and in works to do the best we can. Because, it is only by giving our best to all those around us, and to those we reach out to, that we can ever possibly hope to give our best to God. And if you ever fail, and you will, we all do, I have some reminders: laugh, remember that there have always been hard times and you have made it through before, and know that you are never forsaken or destroyed, that with God, and God is always with you, you can take what tomorrow brings. You can endure.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Diaconal Ordination Sermon
Ordination to the Diaconate of Mary Lou Divis and Donna Jean Kiessling
May 17th, 2006
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, PA
Jeremiah 1:4-9
2 Corinthians 4:1-6
Luke 22:24-27
Who do You Represent
Who do you represent? Why are you here tonight? And, by the way, what does it mean to represent someone? Represent. To re-present. It comes from the Latin praesentare, “to see.” Thus, to re-present is to see again. To represent something means to stand for or symbolize that thing. It can mean to portray. To represent a person means to serve as a delegate or agent for that person, or to act as a spokesperson. So, who do you represent tonight?
“Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, before I formed you in the womb I knew you and before you were born I consecrated you.” Thus begins the call of Jeremiah, the great prophet. More than a call or vocation, his was almost a compulsion. It was no easy road to walk--being God’s prophet during a time of disaster and exile. Jeremiah was often uneasy in his call, if not downright outraged. From the beginning he wants out.
Please, I am only a kid. I really know nothing about this prophet business. Choose someone else, someone older and wiser.
But for God there are no excuses for not being who you are.
Don’t tell me your just a boy. Don’t you think I know who you are? Don’t you think I know what I am doing? I am God, after all. And you shall go to all to whom I send you and you shall speak whatever I command you. I have put my words into your mouth.
Literally with a touch of the holy hand, God places God’s own words into Jeremiah’s mouth. It could hardly be any clearer. It could hardly be any simpler.
It’s as simple as that, Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is a simple as that, Bishop Paul. It is as simple as that, people gathered. God consecrates, the prophet delivers.
It would be easy to imagine that these lofty words about being consecrated before you were born apply not only to Jeremiah but to Donna Jean and Mary Lou as well. It would be easy in the context of this grand liturgy to think that these two women are somewhat exalted (or about to be.) Easy to think that since before they were born they were destined for this night, and for another night a few months from now when they will be set aside for priestly ministry. It would be easy--and it would let the rest of us off the hook. Because we could imagine that this service had nothing to do with us, with our ministry.
It would be easy to think that Donna Jean and Mary Lou are special because God knows them in particular, knew them in fact from the very beginning. Knew that they had these gifts for ministry. In fact, gave them these gifts and now we as a church community are recognizing these gifts and calling these two women to use them to the fullest. It would be easy to think this and it would be true--but not the whole truth. Because this night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean.
Is there anyone who God doesn’t know intimately? Any one who lacks gifts? Anyone among us who is not called? Who do you represent? Why are you here?
We are here tonight to represent Christ and his Church. At least that’s what it said on my invitation, didn’t it on yours? That’s what it says in the Book of Common Prayer (p. 855 in the Catechism if you want to look it up.) Under the section titled The Ministry, the first question asked is: Who are the ministers of the Church? The answer: lay persons, bishops, priests and deacons. The next four questions are--what is the ministry of the laity, what is the ministry of a bishop, what is the ministry of a priest, and what is the ministry of a deacon. And the answers? The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church, to bear witness to him wherever they may be…(so it begins). The ministry of a bishop is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as apostle…(and so forth). The ministry of a priest is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as a pastor to the people…(and it goes on). Guess how the ministry of a Deacon begins?
They all begin the same: to represent Christ and his Church. The particulars of how, are distinct for each office. But the call and context are the same. So whether you are here tonight as a lay person, or as a bishop, or as a priest, or as a deacon, or as someone about to become a deacon, we share this purpose. We are all called. Maybe you thought this service tonight was about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, but it’s not. It’s about you. Who do you represent? It’s as simple as that. God calls, we deliver, work done, case closed. What is true for Jeremiah is true for Donna Jean and Mary Lou and is true for the rest of us. God knows us. God knows the gifts we have. God in fact gave us gifts for a reason and I’m quite sure the reason was not so we could sit on them.
All of us are known. All of us are gifted. All of us are called. Not necessary as prophets or as deacons, but each of us with different gifts appointed to different ministries. The goal of each is the same: to do God’s will. To represent Christ. It’s that simple. So why is it so hard, frightening, and intimidating? Why in our hearts of hearts do we want this liturgy to be all about these two women rather than think about our place in ministry?
Thank God, we are not on our own. “Do not be afraid, for I am with you to deliver you,” God says to Jeremiah. And to the early church hundreds of years after Jeremiah the apostle Paul proclaims, “Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. For we do not proclaim ourselves, we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord.” It is not for ourselves that we are here. It is not for Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is for Christ, to represent Christ and his church.
If we are to represent Christ, then we must help the people around us, the world around us, to see again--to see Christ again. To represent Christ is to stand for, symbolize our savior. It is to serve as Christ’s agent and spokesperson. This night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, it is about all of you here…and those not here. Perhaps tonight is especially about those not here and for those who don’t even know that here is here. We, as a community, set aside these two women for the work of deacons so that the world might know Christ. If we are here to celebrate the gifts of Mary Lou and Donna Jean and not demand that they use them, then we fail at the ministry of the church. If we gather because we are hungry and we know we will get fed, but do not then feed those beyond these walls, we are not the ministers of the Church that God calls us to be.
In preparation for tonight, Mary Lou and Donna Jean practiced preparing the altar. In a few moments, they will set the table for the first time as new deacons. They will reverently and gently set the table and prepare it for all of us to feast. They will prepare the space and by doing that they will prepare us as well. And when the feast is ready, they will serve us. But it will not, it cannot stop here. I hope that over the years of their formation, as they continue to learn to identify and use their gifts, as they become more and more the people God knows them to be, they will set many tables. I hope they will prepare many communities to receive the feast. And I hope this about all of you here tonight: that you too will use your gifts to prepare tables and spaces where people may come to know Christ. I pray that you will represent Christ and introduce others to the King and messiah who said, “I am among you as one who serves.”
The ministry of a deacon is “to represent Christ and his church, particularly as a servant of those in need.” Mary Lou and Donna Jean, I expect you to serve others with love and competence, daring and persistence, holy humor (and sometimes chocolate.)
The duty of all Christians is “to follow Christ, to come together week by week for corporate worship, to work, pray and give for the spread of the kingdom of God.” (BCP p. 856) Know yourself as God knows you. Discover and revel in the gifts God gave you. Represent Christ with all that you are and all that you have.
Amen.
May 17th, 2006
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, PA
Jeremiah 1:4-9
2 Corinthians 4:1-6
Luke 22:24-27
Who do You Represent
Who do you represent? Why are you here tonight? And, by the way, what does it mean to represent someone? Represent. To re-present. It comes from the Latin praesentare, “to see.” Thus, to re-present is to see again. To represent something means to stand for or symbolize that thing. It can mean to portray. To represent a person means to serve as a delegate or agent for that person, or to act as a spokesperson. So, who do you represent tonight?
“Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, before I formed you in the womb I knew you and before you were born I consecrated you.” Thus begins the call of Jeremiah, the great prophet. More than a call or vocation, his was almost a compulsion. It was no easy road to walk--being God’s prophet during a time of disaster and exile. Jeremiah was often uneasy in his call, if not downright outraged. From the beginning he wants out.
Please, I am only a kid. I really know nothing about this prophet business. Choose someone else, someone older and wiser.
But for God there are no excuses for not being who you are.
Don’t tell me your just a boy. Don’t you think I know who you are? Don’t you think I know what I am doing? I am God, after all. And you shall go to all to whom I send you and you shall speak whatever I command you. I have put my words into your mouth.
Literally with a touch of the holy hand, God places God’s own words into Jeremiah’s mouth. It could hardly be any clearer. It could hardly be any simpler.
It’s as simple as that, Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is a simple as that, Bishop Paul. It is as simple as that, people gathered. God consecrates, the prophet delivers.
It would be easy to imagine that these lofty words about being consecrated before you were born apply not only to Jeremiah but to Donna Jean and Mary Lou as well. It would be easy in the context of this grand liturgy to think that these two women are somewhat exalted (or about to be.) Easy to think that since before they were born they were destined for this night, and for another night a few months from now when they will be set aside for priestly ministry. It would be easy--and it would let the rest of us off the hook. Because we could imagine that this service had nothing to do with us, with our ministry.
It would be easy to think that Donna Jean and Mary Lou are special because God knows them in particular, knew them in fact from the very beginning. Knew that they had these gifts for ministry. In fact, gave them these gifts and now we as a church community are recognizing these gifts and calling these two women to use them to the fullest. It would be easy to think this and it would be true--but not the whole truth. Because this night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean.
Is there anyone who God doesn’t know intimately? Any one who lacks gifts? Anyone among us who is not called? Who do you represent? Why are you here?
We are here tonight to represent Christ and his Church. At least that’s what it said on my invitation, didn’t it on yours? That’s what it says in the Book of Common Prayer (p. 855 in the Catechism if you want to look it up.) Under the section titled The Ministry, the first question asked is: Who are the ministers of the Church? The answer: lay persons, bishops, priests and deacons. The next four questions are--what is the ministry of the laity, what is the ministry of a bishop, what is the ministry of a priest, and what is the ministry of a deacon. And the answers? The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church, to bear witness to him wherever they may be…(so it begins). The ministry of a bishop is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as apostle…(and so forth). The ministry of a priest is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as a pastor to the people…(and it goes on). Guess how the ministry of a Deacon begins?
They all begin the same: to represent Christ and his Church. The particulars of how, are distinct for each office. But the call and context are the same. So whether you are here tonight as a lay person, or as a bishop, or as a priest, or as a deacon, or as someone about to become a deacon, we share this purpose. We are all called. Maybe you thought this service tonight was about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, but it’s not. It’s about you. Who do you represent? It’s as simple as that. God calls, we deliver, work done, case closed. What is true for Jeremiah is true for Donna Jean and Mary Lou and is true for the rest of us. God knows us. God knows the gifts we have. God in fact gave us gifts for a reason and I’m quite sure the reason was not so we could sit on them.
All of us are known. All of us are gifted. All of us are called. Not necessary as prophets or as deacons, but each of us with different gifts appointed to different ministries. The goal of each is the same: to do God’s will. To represent Christ. It’s that simple. So why is it so hard, frightening, and intimidating? Why in our hearts of hearts do we want this liturgy to be all about these two women rather than think about our place in ministry?
Thank God, we are not on our own. “Do not be afraid, for I am with you to deliver you,” God says to Jeremiah. And to the early church hundreds of years after Jeremiah the apostle Paul proclaims, “Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. For we do not proclaim ourselves, we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord.” It is not for ourselves that we are here. It is not for Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is for Christ, to represent Christ and his church.
If we are to represent Christ, then we must help the people around us, the world around us, to see again--to see Christ again. To represent Christ is to stand for, symbolize our savior. It is to serve as Christ’s agent and spokesperson. This night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, it is about all of you here…and those not here. Perhaps tonight is especially about those not here and for those who don’t even know that here is here. We, as a community, set aside these two women for the work of deacons so that the world might know Christ. If we are here to celebrate the gifts of Mary Lou and Donna Jean and not demand that they use them, then we fail at the ministry of the church. If we gather because we are hungry and we know we will get fed, but do not then feed those beyond these walls, we are not the ministers of the Church that God calls us to be.
In preparation for tonight, Mary Lou and Donna Jean practiced preparing the altar. In a few moments, they will set the table for the first time as new deacons. They will reverently and gently set the table and prepare it for all of us to feast. They will prepare the space and by doing that they will prepare us as well. And when the feast is ready, they will serve us. But it will not, it cannot stop here. I hope that over the years of their formation, as they continue to learn to identify and use their gifts, as they become more and more the people God knows them to be, they will set many tables. I hope they will prepare many communities to receive the feast. And I hope this about all of you here tonight: that you too will use your gifts to prepare tables and spaces where people may come to know Christ. I pray that you will represent Christ and introduce others to the King and messiah who said, “I am among you as one who serves.”
The ministry of a deacon is “to represent Christ and his church, particularly as a servant of those in need.” Mary Lou and Donna Jean, I expect you to serve others with love and competence, daring and persistence, holy humor (and sometimes chocolate.)
The duty of all Christians is “to follow Christ, to come together week by week for corporate worship, to work, pray and give for the spread of the kingdom of God.” (BCP p. 856) Know yourself as God knows you. Discover and revel in the gifts God gave you. Represent Christ with all that you are and all that you have.
Amen.
Monday, May 08, 2006
The Fourth Sunday of Easter: Lambs or Lions?
The Ven. Richard I Cluett
May 7, 2006
Acts 4:4:4-14; 1John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18
I know that the images of sheep and shepherd appear frequently in scripture - in-cluding today’s lessons on “Shepherding Sunday” - But it occurs to me that 21st century Americans don't really identify with sheep. Our images have to do with different animals. As an example, our cars are identified as mustangs and jaguars. Its a little hard to imagine an “eight cylinder Sheep”!
The names we give to our school mascots and sport teams don’t have to do with sheep. Can you imagine the “Liberty Lambs” or the “Freedom Fawns”? Instead, mascots are lions, tigers, bears. I did part of my seminary training at Yale, and the Yale mascot is the “bull dog”. After the occasional touchdown by the Yale football team, the stands erupt into a rendition of “Bull dog, bull dog, bow wow wow, Eli Yale!” Its a little hard to imagine the singing of “sheep, sheep, baa, baa, baa, Eli Yale!”
In our day we seem to want images of strength, speed, aggressiveness, quick-ness, alertness, domination. We like to see ourselves as dynamic, in control self-sufficient. Not sheep-like!
Well, are we strong enough, quick enough, alert enough, shrewd enough, to deal with whatever life holds for us? Do we have the “Right Stuff”; do we have what it takes...?”
How does that image relate to the person we really, deep down, know ourselves to be? Are we really wild cats, bears, lions, or tigers when we reflect on who we are or what we are?
There is another Yale song, usually sung towards the end of the evening. Its called the “Whiffenpoof Song”. Whiffenpoof?! The theme song of battling bulldogs? “We are poor little lambs who have lost our way. We are little black sheep who have gone astray... God have mercy on such as we...Baa, baa, baa.”
Maudlin, to be sure, but the lamb image does have an insight into the frailties of our human nature.
The image of the Good shepherd raises serious questions about power. In some ways we feel not as super-persons, but rather as pawns in a power game (at work, at school, as a citizen, perhaps in life, itself) who could use a caretaker.
Are we more like lambs that have gone astray than like lions that exercise domin-ion, or bulldogs that have the world by the tail? Can we hear, know, understand what it means when Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd.”
In one of the optional lessons for today, Ezekiel prophecies in the name of God, “I am the good shepherd.” Then he describes others who claim to be shepherds. “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the crippled you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought; and with force and harshness have you ruled them.”
He goes on to say that the shepherding of God will be “as a shepherd seeks out his flock when some of his sheep have been scattered abroad, so will I seek out my sheep and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scat¬tered...” Jesus says that there will be “one flock and one shep¬herd.”
God has brought you and me from our lost-ness and scattered-ness into the Church, into the community of faith, into his flock, into the fold, into his king-dom, into his life. We are not meant to be alone, isolated, from God or from one another. We are part of a community that gives us our identity, nurtures us, strengthens us, comforts us, challenges us, and encourages us.
It is the shepherd who draws us into this flock, who finds us when we are lost, heals us when we are wounded, restores us when we have separated ourselves from the flock. The shepherd is Jesus.
If the image of the shepherd points to the nature of God, points to the way of Jesus, it also points to us. Perhaps true power and true humility are found in the same person. Both were found in Jesus. Both were given to his continuing pres-ence, the Church. Those of us who follow him are also called to a life of true hu-mility and true power.
When Jesus says that he is the Good Shepherd, he is telling us how we are to be. We are to be involved with dirty hands and sweat. We are to confront the false shep¬herds who scatter or lead the sheep astray. We are to search out those who are lost; those who have no hope; those who have wandered away from safety. We are to share with the hungry and bring them to water. We are to see that there is shelter from the storms. We are even to offer our lives for their sake.
“O God, grant that when we hear His voice we may know Him who calls us each by name, and may follow where he leads.” Amen.
May 7, 2006
Acts 4:4:4-14; 1John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18
I know that the images of sheep and shepherd appear frequently in scripture - in-cluding today’s lessons on “Shepherding Sunday” - But it occurs to me that 21st century Americans don't really identify with sheep. Our images have to do with different animals. As an example, our cars are identified as mustangs and jaguars. Its a little hard to imagine an “eight cylinder Sheep”!
The names we give to our school mascots and sport teams don’t have to do with sheep. Can you imagine the “Liberty Lambs” or the “Freedom Fawns”? Instead, mascots are lions, tigers, bears. I did part of my seminary training at Yale, and the Yale mascot is the “bull dog”. After the occasional touchdown by the Yale football team, the stands erupt into a rendition of “Bull dog, bull dog, bow wow wow, Eli Yale!” Its a little hard to imagine the singing of “sheep, sheep, baa, baa, baa, Eli Yale!”
In our day we seem to want images of strength, speed, aggressiveness, quick-ness, alertness, domination. We like to see ourselves as dynamic, in control self-sufficient. Not sheep-like!
Well, are we strong enough, quick enough, alert enough, shrewd enough, to deal with whatever life holds for us? Do we have the “Right Stuff”; do we have what it takes...?”
How does that image relate to the person we really, deep down, know ourselves to be? Are we really wild cats, bears, lions, or tigers when we reflect on who we are or what we are?
There is another Yale song, usually sung towards the end of the evening. Its called the “Whiffenpoof Song”. Whiffenpoof?! The theme song of battling bulldogs? “We are poor little lambs who have lost our way. We are little black sheep who have gone astray... God have mercy on such as we...Baa, baa, baa.”
Maudlin, to be sure, but the lamb image does have an insight into the frailties of our human nature.
The image of the Good shepherd raises serious questions about power. In some ways we feel not as super-persons, but rather as pawns in a power game (at work, at school, as a citizen, perhaps in life, itself) who could use a caretaker.
Are we more like lambs that have gone astray than like lions that exercise domin-ion, or bulldogs that have the world by the tail? Can we hear, know, understand what it means when Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd.”
In one of the optional lessons for today, Ezekiel prophecies in the name of God, “I am the good shepherd.” Then he describes others who claim to be shepherds. “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the crippled you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought; and with force and harshness have you ruled them.”
He goes on to say that the shepherding of God will be “as a shepherd seeks out his flock when some of his sheep have been scattered abroad, so will I seek out my sheep and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scat¬tered...” Jesus says that there will be “one flock and one shep¬herd.”
God has brought you and me from our lost-ness and scattered-ness into the Church, into the community of faith, into his flock, into the fold, into his king-dom, into his life. We are not meant to be alone, isolated, from God or from one another. We are part of a community that gives us our identity, nurtures us, strengthens us, comforts us, challenges us, and encourages us.
It is the shepherd who draws us into this flock, who finds us when we are lost, heals us when we are wounded, restores us when we have separated ourselves from the flock. The shepherd is Jesus.
If the image of the shepherd points to the nature of God, points to the way of Jesus, it also points to us. Perhaps true power and true humility are found in the same person. Both were found in Jesus. Both were given to his continuing pres-ence, the Church. Those of us who follow him are also called to a life of true hu-mility and true power.
When Jesus says that he is the Good Shepherd, he is telling us how we are to be. We are to be involved with dirty hands and sweat. We are to confront the false shep¬herds who scatter or lead the sheep astray. We are to search out those who are lost; those who have no hope; those who have wandered away from safety. We are to share with the hungry and bring them to water. We are to see that there is shelter from the storms. We are even to offer our lives for their sake.
“O God, grant that when we hear His voice we may know Him who calls us each by name, and may follow where he leads.” Amen.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Sermon preached on the occasion of The Annual Eucharist for the Altar Guild
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
May 6, 2006
1Kings 7:48-8:5 Psalm 84 Luke 2:41-51
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
In the narthex of Christ Church in Corning, NY, which is a dark shadowy place, there are some small stained glass windows. One window, if my memory serves me, contains a vase of flowers and some altar linens. As you might imagine the window was given to honor the work of the Altar Guild; given by a woman who had served on an altar guild for 65 of her 75 years.
Personally for her it symbolized a 65 year vo¬cation – and the ministry of all members of the altar guild, who carry out the tasks of setting the table, doing the dishes, and ar¬ranging the flowers, mak¬ing the sanctuary beautiful for God and for the people of God. A woman of considerable wealth, who in her own home, paid others to set the table, do the dishes, and ar¬range the flowers. But for the ministry of the altar, for the sacra¬mental ministry of the community of Jesus, no task was too menial, no job too humble. For 65 years she polished, prepared and put away Holy Things.
And God honors the work and the hands of all who do so – and so do I. The congregation will never know the details of the work you do, nor will they know the gift you make in your offering, or the blessing you receive. But I know. All priests know. We are partners in this ministry of the sacristy and sanctuary.
The spirituality of the sanctuary and the sacristy is where the Altar Guild assists with the heart and soul of worship. Altar Guild service is a privileged discipline, a service of love, and an offering of time. An integral part of the guild is to make sure the linens are cleansed, the vessels are polished and in place, the sacramental bread available, the wine ready, and the vestments laid out.
The beauty of holy things isn’t always as easily discernible to those removed from the intimacy involved in the ministry of the sacristy and the sanctuary. The intimacy of the sacristy can be compared, rightly I think, to the intimacy of bathing a child or another beloved. Holy things have been touched by the sacred, and those whose lives are drawn to the sacred will find them beautiful, even in their mundane usefulness.
Holy things remind us of the living God; for they have his mark, his touch, and are not just items of beauty or usefulness, empty of meaning. Rather, they bring into the dailyness of our lives, the presence of the Living God. You are privileged and blessed in preparing the Holy Things of God for the people of God.
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
May 6, 2006
1Kings 7:48-8:5 Psalm 84 Luke 2:41-51
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
In the narthex of Christ Church in Corning, NY, which is a dark shadowy place, there are some small stained glass windows. One window, if my memory serves me, contains a vase of flowers and some altar linens. As you might imagine the window was given to honor the work of the Altar Guild; given by a woman who had served on an altar guild for 65 of her 75 years.
Personally for her it symbolized a 65 year vo¬cation – and the ministry of all members of the altar guild, who carry out the tasks of setting the table, doing the dishes, and ar¬ranging the flowers, mak¬ing the sanctuary beautiful for God and for the people of God. A woman of considerable wealth, who in her own home, paid others to set the table, do the dishes, and ar¬range the flowers. But for the ministry of the altar, for the sacra¬mental ministry of the community of Jesus, no task was too menial, no job too humble. For 65 years she polished, prepared and put away Holy Things.
And God honors the work and the hands of all who do so – and so do I. The congregation will never know the details of the work you do, nor will they know the gift you make in your offering, or the blessing you receive. But I know. All priests know. We are partners in this ministry of the sacristy and sanctuary.
The spirituality of the sanctuary and the sacristy is where the Altar Guild assists with the heart and soul of worship. Altar Guild service is a privileged discipline, a service of love, and an offering of time. An integral part of the guild is to make sure the linens are cleansed, the vessels are polished and in place, the sacramental bread available, the wine ready, and the vestments laid out.
The beauty of holy things isn’t always as easily discernible to those removed from the intimacy involved in the ministry of the sacristy and the sanctuary. The intimacy of the sacristy can be compared, rightly I think, to the intimacy of bathing a child or another beloved. Holy things have been touched by the sacred, and those whose lives are drawn to the sacred will find them beautiful, even in their mundane usefulness.
Holy things remind us of the living God; for they have his mark, his touch, and are not just items of beauty or usefulness, empty of meaning. Rather, they bring into the dailyness of our lives, the presence of the Living God. You are privileged and blessed in preparing the Holy Things of God for the people of God.
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
Friday, May 05, 2006
The Third Sunday of Easter: What kind of Savior are you Looking For?
St. Timothy’s, Creve Coeur, Missouri
April 30, 2006
Luke 24:36-48
What kind of a savior are you looking for? As for me, I want someone steady: a rock. Now I think a kind, comfy rock would be nice. One you can lean into and find comfort. One that will put loving arms around you and brush your hair back and tell you that it will be all right. But a rock nonetheless. I want someone strong, dependable and always available. I want someone I can count on whenever I fall apart, or get scared, or overwhelmed. This someone I’m thinking of never falls apart or gets scared or overwhelmed. After all, what good is a vulnerable savior? How can my savior take care of me if that rock is not steady 24/7?
What about you? What kind of a savior are you looking for? Someone who will fight for you or lead you to victory or heal your wounds? Are you looking for a knight in white armor, or a western frontier hero or an inspired political leader? Perhaps it is a miracle worker, or a beacon for global reconciliation or a prophet that makes your savior short-list. Or all of the above? Or someone who will die for you? Now wait a minute--what good is a dead savior? No, give me the one who fights all the demons and wins. Give me the one who is triumphant. I want the one who never falters.
What kind of a savior do you suppose the disciples were looking for? Clearly there were a variety of views among them. Some were looking for a great leader. Some hoped for the return of King David. Some expected a prophet, others a healer. I expect some of their visions are similar to ours: a rock, a warrior, a miracle worker. But even those who believed in their heart of hearts that Jesus was it--the messiah--the one who would save them all--they never got it. Peter, the one who first calls Jesus Messiah when Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” is also the one who rebukes Jesus when our Lord talked about dying. “Get behind me Satan!” Jesus has to say to him. But Peter doesn’t understand. A dead savior? No thank you.
But that’s exactly what they got: a savior, a messiah, who was vulnerable. A savior who was overwhelmed and overcome and broken. A savior who didn’t just die, or offer up his life in some heroic action leading the charge against the enemy or taking the bullet to spare us. This savior, this Jesus was captured and beaten and killed. Dead—desecrated-- and buried. And that was the end of it. Or so they thought. Then comes Easter.
It is still Easter by the way. We celebrate if for 50 days. The great 50 days we call it. And it is still that first Easter day when this story from our gospel takes place. Recall how Luke tells the story. In the early dawn on the first day of the week the women find the empty tomb. They meet two men-in-white who tell them that Jesus has risen. They run and tell the others who do not believe them. Now that same day two of the disciples were going to the village of Emmaus talking about all this. Along the way they meet a stranger who asks them what they are discussing. They reach their destination early evening, invite the stranger to eat with them, and as he breaks the bread he is suddenly revealed to them as Jesus. And then in the next moment, he simply vanishes.
Astonished by what they have seen, they run the seven miles back to Jerusalem (OK maybe they walked fast). They find the others who say, “Have you heard? The Lord has risen indeed!” And they say, “Have we got a story for you…we’ve seen him!” As they are talking, suddenly he is there. Just there. While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified. (Luke 24:36)
Now I have to tell you--if we don’t want a savior who suffers and dies, and they didn’t understand a savior who suffered and died, how do you suppose they felt about a resurrected one? I think startled and terrified don’t quite make it! Honestly, a ghost might have been easier to take than a live, just-got-back-from-being-dead, honest-to-God resurrected messiah. It is sometimes hard to place ourselves in the shoes of those first disciples. We have so many images of Jesus, but all of them carry the stamp of the resurrected one. We know that part of the story already. But those first disciples did not. Those who believed Jesus was the messiah before the crucifixion, thought what they saw was what they got. They expected great things of their teacher, mentor, and friend. But the real encounter with the real resurrected one could not have been what they thought it would be. I am sure some of them spent the rest of their lives trying to get their minds around it.
And this is why we take 50 days for Easter. It is not just because Pentecost comes on the calendar 50 days from now. It is because the resurrection is shocking and startling and terrifying. No matter how many years we have lived this story, we still need time to understand it. It is a great mystery.
Jesus is our savoir. But what kind of a savior do we want? Or perhaps the more important question is, what kind of a savior do we need? Apparently one who is vulnerable. Apparently one who can be beaten down. Apparently one who dies. Because that is what we have in Jesus. And this is why. Because without a dead savior, we do not get a resurrected one. A Jesus who got off the cross and triumphantly put his foes to flight would have been victorious over the Roman officials and the Religious hierarchy of 1st century Palestine. A Jesus who stood up to the authorities of his day and became a new leader who reformed the religious institutions, brought food to the poor, justice to the downtrodden and healing to the sick would have created a better society around the city of Jerusalem. Things would have gone on well for a time. But then what?
But a Jesus who suffered and died and was buried and stayed dead and after three days was resurrected, that Jesus, that messiah, that Christ conquered more. That savior says there is nothing in this world, no evil, no hate, no horrifying death, that God’s love cannot overcome. God’s love conquers hate. God’s love overcomes sin. God’s love ensures that not even death has the last word. A savior like that ensures that there is no dark place that I can be that God has not also been. There is no depth to which I can fall, that God will not be there with me. There is no place of devastation that I can be in that is not redeemable by God. Now that is a savior worth living for.
When Jesus stands there and asks if there is anything to eat in the house, he is showing them that he is no ghost, no joke, no phantom of wishful thinking. He is nothing less than the one who not even death could stop. He is nothing less than the one who comes again to those he loves and offers peace. And even that is not then end of the story; or of our story. “You are witnesses of these things,” Jesus tells those gathered around him that Easter day evening. Repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in the name of the messiah and you are witnesses to these things. In Luke’s account this is the final appearance of Jesus. He has no other message or words of wisdom for his disciples. “You are witnesses of these things.”
And what do you suppose those witnesses were meant to do? Well, we know what they did because we are here. They told the story. They told the story about a vulnerable savior who laid down his life for them, and for us. They told the story of a savior whose love for humankind overcame hate and death. They proclaimed that repentance and forgiveness are available for all of us. They healed the sick, cared for the poor, created communities founded on the Good News of this resurrected Christ.
In our Baptismal Covenant we are asked, “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” We also are witnesses to Easter. We also are called to tell the story. We are called to live lives in the assurance, the blessed assurance, that this incredible love is for us. What kind of savior do you want? What kind savior do you need? What kind of savior do you have? What kind of savior will you witness to?
In God’s Holy Name,
Amen
April 30, 2006
Luke 24:36-48
What kind of a savior are you looking for? As for me, I want someone steady: a rock. Now I think a kind, comfy rock would be nice. One you can lean into and find comfort. One that will put loving arms around you and brush your hair back and tell you that it will be all right. But a rock nonetheless. I want someone strong, dependable and always available. I want someone I can count on whenever I fall apart, or get scared, or overwhelmed. This someone I’m thinking of never falls apart or gets scared or overwhelmed. After all, what good is a vulnerable savior? How can my savior take care of me if that rock is not steady 24/7?
What about you? What kind of a savior are you looking for? Someone who will fight for you or lead you to victory or heal your wounds? Are you looking for a knight in white armor, or a western frontier hero or an inspired political leader? Perhaps it is a miracle worker, or a beacon for global reconciliation or a prophet that makes your savior short-list. Or all of the above? Or someone who will die for you? Now wait a minute--what good is a dead savior? No, give me the one who fights all the demons and wins. Give me the one who is triumphant. I want the one who never falters.
What kind of a savior do you suppose the disciples were looking for? Clearly there were a variety of views among them. Some were looking for a great leader. Some hoped for the return of King David. Some expected a prophet, others a healer. I expect some of their visions are similar to ours: a rock, a warrior, a miracle worker. But even those who believed in their heart of hearts that Jesus was it--the messiah--the one who would save them all--they never got it. Peter, the one who first calls Jesus Messiah when Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” is also the one who rebukes Jesus when our Lord talked about dying. “Get behind me Satan!” Jesus has to say to him. But Peter doesn’t understand. A dead savior? No thank you.
But that’s exactly what they got: a savior, a messiah, who was vulnerable. A savior who was overwhelmed and overcome and broken. A savior who didn’t just die, or offer up his life in some heroic action leading the charge against the enemy or taking the bullet to spare us. This savior, this Jesus was captured and beaten and killed. Dead—desecrated-- and buried. And that was the end of it. Or so they thought. Then comes Easter.
It is still Easter by the way. We celebrate if for 50 days. The great 50 days we call it. And it is still that first Easter day when this story from our gospel takes place. Recall how Luke tells the story. In the early dawn on the first day of the week the women find the empty tomb. They meet two men-in-white who tell them that Jesus has risen. They run and tell the others who do not believe them. Now that same day two of the disciples were going to the village of Emmaus talking about all this. Along the way they meet a stranger who asks them what they are discussing. They reach their destination early evening, invite the stranger to eat with them, and as he breaks the bread he is suddenly revealed to them as Jesus. And then in the next moment, he simply vanishes.
Astonished by what they have seen, they run the seven miles back to Jerusalem (OK maybe they walked fast). They find the others who say, “Have you heard? The Lord has risen indeed!” And they say, “Have we got a story for you…we’ve seen him!” As they are talking, suddenly he is there. Just there. While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified. (Luke 24:36)
Now I have to tell you--if we don’t want a savior who suffers and dies, and they didn’t understand a savior who suffered and died, how do you suppose they felt about a resurrected one? I think startled and terrified don’t quite make it! Honestly, a ghost might have been easier to take than a live, just-got-back-from-being-dead, honest-to-God resurrected messiah. It is sometimes hard to place ourselves in the shoes of those first disciples. We have so many images of Jesus, but all of them carry the stamp of the resurrected one. We know that part of the story already. But those first disciples did not. Those who believed Jesus was the messiah before the crucifixion, thought what they saw was what they got. They expected great things of their teacher, mentor, and friend. But the real encounter with the real resurrected one could not have been what they thought it would be. I am sure some of them spent the rest of their lives trying to get their minds around it.
And this is why we take 50 days for Easter. It is not just because Pentecost comes on the calendar 50 days from now. It is because the resurrection is shocking and startling and terrifying. No matter how many years we have lived this story, we still need time to understand it. It is a great mystery.
Jesus is our savoir. But what kind of a savior do we want? Or perhaps the more important question is, what kind of a savior do we need? Apparently one who is vulnerable. Apparently one who can be beaten down. Apparently one who dies. Because that is what we have in Jesus. And this is why. Because without a dead savior, we do not get a resurrected one. A Jesus who got off the cross and triumphantly put his foes to flight would have been victorious over the Roman officials and the Religious hierarchy of 1st century Palestine. A Jesus who stood up to the authorities of his day and became a new leader who reformed the religious institutions, brought food to the poor, justice to the downtrodden and healing to the sick would have created a better society around the city of Jerusalem. Things would have gone on well for a time. But then what?
But a Jesus who suffered and died and was buried and stayed dead and after three days was resurrected, that Jesus, that messiah, that Christ conquered more. That savior says there is nothing in this world, no evil, no hate, no horrifying death, that God’s love cannot overcome. God’s love conquers hate. God’s love overcomes sin. God’s love ensures that not even death has the last word. A savior like that ensures that there is no dark place that I can be that God has not also been. There is no depth to which I can fall, that God will not be there with me. There is no place of devastation that I can be in that is not redeemable by God. Now that is a savior worth living for.
When Jesus stands there and asks if there is anything to eat in the house, he is showing them that he is no ghost, no joke, no phantom of wishful thinking. He is nothing less than the one who not even death could stop. He is nothing less than the one who comes again to those he loves and offers peace. And even that is not then end of the story; or of our story. “You are witnesses of these things,” Jesus tells those gathered around him that Easter day evening. Repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in the name of the messiah and you are witnesses to these things. In Luke’s account this is the final appearance of Jesus. He has no other message or words of wisdom for his disciples. “You are witnesses of these things.”
And what do you suppose those witnesses were meant to do? Well, we know what they did because we are here. They told the story. They told the story about a vulnerable savior who laid down his life for them, and for us. They told the story of a savior whose love for humankind overcame hate and death. They proclaimed that repentance and forgiveness are available for all of us. They healed the sick, cared for the poor, created communities founded on the Good News of this resurrected Christ.
In our Baptismal Covenant we are asked, “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” We also are witnesses to Easter. We also are called to tell the story. We are called to live lives in the assurance, the blessed assurance, that this incredible love is for us. What kind of savior do you want? What kind savior do you need? What kind of savior do you have? What kind of savior will you witness to?
In God’s Holy Name,
Amen
Monday, May 01, 2006
The Third Sunday of Easter: A story about two birdcages
The Rev. Canon Joel Atkinson
April 30, 2006
I’d like to tell you a story about two birdcages.
The stories say lots concerning the meaning of Easter.
I’m going over there to pick up the first cage.
Do you see it?
It’s a cage like “Tweety Bird” took refuge in
from that mean old cat “Sylvester”
in those wondrous colored cartoons of our youth.
Here I’m picking it up.
Take a look with me.
Those adults present who can’t see the cage
please hold your cynicism in abeyance
and listen to me
while I examine this most special cage.
Listen and I’ll tell you what I see.
It appears to be a brand spanking new birdcage.
The bars are spaced so that even the tiniest of birds
could never escape from this cage.
Now there is something very peculiar about what I see.
What use is a birdcage without a door?
Did you notice there wasn’t a door?
I couldn’t put a bird in there even if I wanted to!
As I’ve been examining this cage
there is something even more peculiar.
Look at the bottom of the cage.
Do you see it?
There’s an eggshell
of a recently hatched bird.
Where’s the bird?
There’s no door to the cage!
There’s no way through the very narrowly spaced bars!
Yet, at the bottom of the cage are the remnants of an eggshell.
Here, I’ll hold the cage so you can see where that bird might have hidden.
Do you see the bird?
Neither do I! The bird isn’t in the cage.
I would like to meet a bird that can hatch from the confinement of its shell
into an escape-proof cage
and then just simply disappear from sight.
Where did it go?
Again I must say,
I would like to meet a bird like that.
That bird sounds remarkably like
that escape Jesus made
and we celebrated on Easter Eve.
The birdcage I described
was like one painted by Rene Magritte
a Belgian surrealist painter.
In this and in other works of his
this postal worker who painted in the dining room of his house
painted images that guide our minds to see realities
that transcend
the obviousness of the concreteness of the world, which surrounds.
In his painting of the empty birdcage
we are lead to see both the impossibility
and the reality of the empty tomb.
Let’s see, I think I’ll place this cage over here.
Right there is a good spot.
There’s another cage – do you see it?
It’s not nearly as nice as the first.
It’s all rusty and bent in places.
The bars aren’t evenly spaced and as close together as in first.
Why look, it’s even got a door.
Bear with me for a moment and I’ll walk over and pick it up.
I’ve got it! I’ll hold it so you can see it.
This ugly old cage looks like it’s ready for nothing but the trash bin.
Looking at it closely I’m reminded of a story.
On an Easter Sunday morning
a pastor at a church in New England
was walking to begin Sunday services.
On the way he saw a young boy coming toward him
with a cage exactly like this one.
As he drew closer
he noticed several birds thrashing in fear
as they sought escape from the confines of the cage.
Taking time out from his walk
he stopped the boy
and asked him what he intended to do with the birds.
“Mister,” the boy replied
“I am going to play with them.
I am going to make them angry and fight with one another.
I am going to pull out their feathers and hurt them.”
“That’s terrible,” the pastor thought.
The he said to the boy “Then what are you going to do?”
Answering his own question
he said to the boy
“You’re going to let them go aren’t you?”
“No!” he said enthusiastically
“there’re lots of hungry cats in the neighborhood
soooo I’m going to feed them to the cats!”
At this last statement the pastor slid his hand into the vest pocket of his jacket
and said “Son, what do you think those three birds are worth?”
“Well mister” he replied, naming a gargantuan sum for one so young.
“They’re worth ten dollars!”
The pastor pulled out his wallet took out a ten dollar bill
and quietly the exchange took place.
Each seemed satisfied with the deal they’d made
though as the boy walked away he waved his ten dollar bill
gloating at the stupidity of the adult he’d pulled a shame upon.
Looking back the boy shouted, as if to rub it in,
“Mister they’re only common field birds with no color at all.
Why they can’t even sing a pretty song!”
The pastor with his prize
walked quietly to a grassy place
by the side of a large tree
that would be hospitable to the three tiny birds.
Then he kneeled, opened the door of the rusty old birdcage,
and gently urged them fly away into the freedom…the life
he’d purchased for them.
On that Easter Sunday he preached one of his best sermons.
The two cages both speak to me of the meaning of Easter.
I am going to place them side-by-side
and I will try not to forget their story.
The challenge becomes for me…for us…
how do we make the story conveyed by the two cages real in our lives?
For me their reality comes
in seeking in my life
to live into the challenge
contained in the words of two extraordinary human beings.
Listen to the words the first extraordinary human being, Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
spoke in addressing the church:
“The compassion of Jesus was not just a passing feeling that made him feel pity
but left him wringing his hands.
No, compassion moved him to do something to change the situation…
People are of infinite worth
because Jesus Christ died for them,
and they must be treated
not just with respect but with reverence.
To treat fellow human beings as less than this
is to spit in the face of God.”
He continued:
“A compassionate church will discern the features of its Lord and Master
in the drug addict, the homeless person, the AIDS patient, the (single) parent,
the hungry, the widow and the orphan, the unemployed, the political prisoner,
the homeless, the oppressed.
The compassionate church will,
like its Lord and Master,
tie a towel around its waist to wash the disciples’
feet, because in serving these it is serving him.”
Our loving compassionate God, as illustrated
in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to free us
from that which binds us to whatever circumstance
that prevents from being all God has created us to be
whether self imposed,
imposed by others,
or by the circumstances of the life into which we have been born
including the mortality shared by all.
Our loving compassionate God,
as illustrated in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to call us into becoming God’s compassionate people
in God’s compassionate church.
When we leave the Cathedral this day these stories
will become more deeply writ into our hearts
if each day we’ll make just a little more effort to being God’s compassionate people
toward those closest around us,
to the strangers we meet,
and even to the self that each of us are.
As we seek to love and to free as God does,
we’ll feel the embrace of God’s eternal arms holding us ever closer.
In the words of that second extraordinary person, St. Teresa of Avila,
“Christ has no body now earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours.
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good.
And yours are the hands with which he is to bless us now.”
Your hands and your feet belong to Christ – use them in his name.
Amen.
April 30, 2006
I’d like to tell you a story about two birdcages.
The stories say lots concerning the meaning of Easter.
I’m going over there to pick up the first cage.
Do you see it?
It’s a cage like “Tweety Bird” took refuge in
from that mean old cat “Sylvester”
in those wondrous colored cartoons of our youth.
Here I’m picking it up.
Take a look with me.
Those adults present who can’t see the cage
please hold your cynicism in abeyance
and listen to me
while I examine this most special cage.
Listen and I’ll tell you what I see.
It appears to be a brand spanking new birdcage.
The bars are spaced so that even the tiniest of birds
could never escape from this cage.
Now there is something very peculiar about what I see.
What use is a birdcage without a door?
Did you notice there wasn’t a door?
I couldn’t put a bird in there even if I wanted to!
As I’ve been examining this cage
there is something even more peculiar.
Look at the bottom of the cage.
Do you see it?
There’s an eggshell
of a recently hatched bird.
Where’s the bird?
There’s no door to the cage!
There’s no way through the very narrowly spaced bars!
Yet, at the bottom of the cage are the remnants of an eggshell.
Here, I’ll hold the cage so you can see where that bird might have hidden.
Do you see the bird?
Neither do I! The bird isn’t in the cage.
I would like to meet a bird that can hatch from the confinement of its shell
into an escape-proof cage
and then just simply disappear from sight.
Where did it go?
Again I must say,
I would like to meet a bird like that.
That bird sounds remarkably like
that escape Jesus made
and we celebrated on Easter Eve.
The birdcage I described
was like one painted by Rene Magritte
a Belgian surrealist painter.
In this and in other works of his
this postal worker who painted in the dining room of his house
painted images that guide our minds to see realities
that transcend
the obviousness of the concreteness of the world, which surrounds.
In his painting of the empty birdcage
we are lead to see both the impossibility
and the reality of the empty tomb.
Let’s see, I think I’ll place this cage over here.
Right there is a good spot.
There’s another cage – do you see it?
It’s not nearly as nice as the first.
It’s all rusty and bent in places.
The bars aren’t evenly spaced and as close together as in first.
Why look, it’s even got a door.
Bear with me for a moment and I’ll walk over and pick it up.
I’ve got it! I’ll hold it so you can see it.
This ugly old cage looks like it’s ready for nothing but the trash bin.
Looking at it closely I’m reminded of a story.
On an Easter Sunday morning
a pastor at a church in New England
was walking to begin Sunday services.
On the way he saw a young boy coming toward him
with a cage exactly like this one.
As he drew closer
he noticed several birds thrashing in fear
as they sought escape from the confines of the cage.
Taking time out from his walk
he stopped the boy
and asked him what he intended to do with the birds.
“Mister,” the boy replied
“I am going to play with them.
I am going to make them angry and fight with one another.
I am going to pull out their feathers and hurt them.”
“That’s terrible,” the pastor thought.
The he said to the boy “Then what are you going to do?”
Answering his own question
he said to the boy
“You’re going to let them go aren’t you?”
“No!” he said enthusiastically
“there’re lots of hungry cats in the neighborhood
soooo I’m going to feed them to the cats!”
At this last statement the pastor slid his hand into the vest pocket of his jacket
and said “Son, what do you think those three birds are worth?”
“Well mister” he replied, naming a gargantuan sum for one so young.
“They’re worth ten dollars!”
The pastor pulled out his wallet took out a ten dollar bill
and quietly the exchange took place.
Each seemed satisfied with the deal they’d made
though as the boy walked away he waved his ten dollar bill
gloating at the stupidity of the adult he’d pulled a shame upon.
Looking back the boy shouted, as if to rub it in,
“Mister they’re only common field birds with no color at all.
Why they can’t even sing a pretty song!”
The pastor with his prize
walked quietly to a grassy place
by the side of a large tree
that would be hospitable to the three tiny birds.
Then he kneeled, opened the door of the rusty old birdcage,
and gently urged them fly away into the freedom…the life
he’d purchased for them.
On that Easter Sunday he preached one of his best sermons.
The two cages both speak to me of the meaning of Easter.
I am going to place them side-by-side
and I will try not to forget their story.
The challenge becomes for me…for us…
how do we make the story conveyed by the two cages real in our lives?
For me their reality comes
in seeking in my life
to live into the challenge
contained in the words of two extraordinary human beings.
Listen to the words the first extraordinary human being, Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
spoke in addressing the church:
“The compassion of Jesus was not just a passing feeling that made him feel pity
but left him wringing his hands.
No, compassion moved him to do something to change the situation…
People are of infinite worth
because Jesus Christ died for them,
and they must be treated
not just with respect but with reverence.
To treat fellow human beings as less than this
is to spit in the face of God.”
He continued:
“A compassionate church will discern the features of its Lord and Master
in the drug addict, the homeless person, the AIDS patient, the (single) parent,
the hungry, the widow and the orphan, the unemployed, the political prisoner,
the homeless, the oppressed.
The compassionate church will,
like its Lord and Master,
tie a towel around its waist to wash the disciples’
feet, because in serving these it is serving him.”
Our loving compassionate God, as illustrated
in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to free us
from that which binds us to whatever circumstance
that prevents from being all God has created us to be
whether self imposed,
imposed by others,
or by the circumstances of the life into which we have been born
including the mortality shared by all.
Our loving compassionate God,
as illustrated in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to call us into becoming God’s compassionate people
in God’s compassionate church.
When we leave the Cathedral this day these stories
will become more deeply writ into our hearts
if each day we’ll make just a little more effort to being God’s compassionate people
toward those closest around us,
to the strangers we meet,
and even to the self that each of us are.
As we seek to love and to free as God does,
we’ll feel the embrace of God’s eternal arms holding us ever closer.
In the words of that second extraordinary person, St. Teresa of Avila,
“Christ has no body now earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours.
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good.
And yours are the hands with which he is to bless us now.”
Your hands and your feet belong to Christ – use them in his name.
Amen.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
The Second Sunday of Easter: The Faithful Church
The Rev. Demery Bader-Saye
Missioner for Youth, the Diocese of Bethlehem
April 23, 2006
Acts 4:32-35; Psalm 133; 1 John 1:1-2:2; John 20:19-31
Alleluia! The Lord is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed - Alleluia! Happy Easter, my sisters and brothers in Christ! What a joy it is to be with you today. I bring you greetings from your bishop and the whole diocesan staff.
It is Easter from now until Pentecost Sunday. We are in the midst of an Easter celebration, reveling in the news that our Lord is risen, healed and whole, gentle and victorious, humble and glorious. As it is written in the Song of Solomon, “for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.”
The prophecy of Gandalf from J.R.R. Tolkein’s allegory to the Christian faith, The Fellowship of the Ring has been fulfilled in the rising of Jesus from the tomb:
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire [has been] woken,
A light from the shadows [does] spring;
Renewed [is the] blade that was broken,
The crownless again [is the] king!
And in the proclamation of our story of our faith, we hear that the word of the resurrection is moving full throttle through Jerusalem. The band of brothers, the followers of Christ in the fellowship of the cross are – depsite threats and opposition from their enemy -- preaching the radically good news of Jesus Christ with power and zeal throughout the region of Jerusalem. They are sheperding a congregation of hundreds, even thousands of believers which is in and of itself, a miracle – and the whole body of believers, Luke writes in this fourth chapter of Acts, are of “one heart and soul.” In the power of the Holy Spirit, everything is coming together for this new community in Christ. No one in the congregation of the early church is bent out of shape (yet), or complaining, or vying for power. Everyone is pulling his or her weight. No one is hungry or thirsty or homeless, for they hold everything in common – they share all of their possessions and from that collective wealth, not one financial need goes unfulfilled. They are living out the covenant that they made on the miraculous day of their baptism, the ancient covenant that Christians to this very day make each and every time we baptize someone new into the life of Christ – a covenant to care for one another tenderly as family and to work as partners with God to bring about the kingdom of God on the earth God loves with such passion. The Acts community of believers here understand that in the fellowship of Christ everyone bears with joy, with willingness, the responsibility to care for the needs, to share the hopes, to encourage the dreams of everyone else and the responsibility to reach out to those in need.
Sometimes life in Christ is like that. Miracles happen left and right. People are fed. Faith flourishes. Enemies are kept at bay. Sometimes it all comes together. And sometimes it doesn’t, even if all the ingredients seem to be there.
Take for instance, the bean and lentil soup fiasco that happened to me and some friends of mine just a few weeks ago. We’re in an emerging church community called Peacemeal (www.peacemealcommunity.blogspot.com) which meets on Friday nights in my living room in Clarks Summit. Feeling pretty fired up during lent, we decided that we wanted to perform an act of love - to follow Jesus in the way of the cross. We were going to feed the homeless and working poor of Scranton. We called a local soup kitchen, which serves a lunch meal every day at noon for some advice. They estimated that they serve as many as 225 hungry people each day in Scranton. So we shopped, and we chopped and we made -- just to be safe – 300 servings of bean and lentil soup. And we bought 250 apples and 5 big sheets of brownies and vanilla pound cake. All week long it felt like Christmas! What kind of gifts would the day bring? Who would see the love of Christ in our eyes? In whose weary eyes would we see the love of Christ? The dinner was to start at 5:00. We’d imagined that it would take us a full hour and a half to move everyone through the line. But by 5:30 we had served everyone who was to eat that night. Did you ever notice the McDonald’s sign down the road – what is it now, over 200 billion served or something like that? Well, if Peacemeal were to have a sign it would be a little more humbling. It would read “over 20 served.”
Sometimes even when people try to live with the same power and zeal as the early church, it just doesn’t come together. A friend of ours from North Carolina tells of a time in his life when he, his wife and a group of enthusiastic believers decided to purchase a big house and live together there in community, praying together, eating together, holding all things in common. It went gloriously well for a time, but in the end, inevitably, tensions mounted and the community disintegrated over something so small as how many ounces of orange juice each person was allowed to drink each morning, or whose turn it was to take out the garbage. Living the life of the fellowship of Christ is not easy.
Even the disciples and all of those new believers did not live out the perfection of the few verses we read today for very long... In the verses that immediately follow Ananias and his wife Saphira decide to hold just a little money back for themselves. They lie to the disciples and fall over dead when confronted with their deception. There were arguments between and among the disciples about how to spread the message, about who needed to hear the story of Christ. The horrible persecution of those who followed Jesus grew heavier. More and more often the hand of the “predator” reached into the community and plucked up a believer, who was stoned or crucified and eventually even thrown to the lions. The persecution became so strong that the believers couldn’t live together or even be seen together because it was too dangerous. Many fell away and be came apostates, denying that they believed in the risen Christ. It was just too risky.
But a faithful remnant remained who wouldn’t give up. And because of them we sit here today. Because of them the radically good news of the risen Christ has reached into most every corner of the earth. And there are, in a good many places, at least outposts of peace and generosity and love which serve as places of renewal for the followers of Christ who continue to try. Who try to go out into the world to do the work God has given them to do, to love and serve God with gladness and singleness of heart. In another word of encouragement from Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring, we read:
The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.
The wheels of the world are turning. The kingdom of God is here - it is coming. Miraculous Acts 4 kind of moments don’t always come together. But we keep on sharing with those in need. We are faithful just one more day, to whomever our community may be – to our spouse, to our family, to our friends, to our church, and we try not to argue over orange juice. And then a day turns into a year, which turns into a week, which turns into a month, which turns into a lifetime of faithfulness. We continue to live out that baptismal covenant asking our parish where we are needed -- how we can live out the promise we make at each one’s baptism to encourage that one’s growth in faith. We keep on feeding hungry people until 20 turns to 200 and 200 turns to 2 million and 2 million turns into 200 billion, until 200 turns into “Everyone has been served!” And over time like a pebble covered with snow rolling down a big hill, momentum increases, power multiplies, people gather, the Holy Spirit stirs up hearts and minds and you find yourself in the midst of a revolution, part of the misseo dei - the mission of God – the magnificent kingdom of God which even now burgeons not only “up there” in heaven, or in some dimension just beyond the veil of our understanding -- but here and now in this big broken, hurting world that God loves so much – sometimes it all comes together!
Until the day when it all comes together for good, we enjoy those delightful “Acts community moments” when we get a glimpse of that powerful kingdom – like the moments that happen sometimes at youth events. As someone who works with youth a lot, I am blessed to see many such moments, like when the teen rector of Happening kneels down to wash the feet of his or her friends. Like the joy that I hope will come next week at Christophany as youth discover more about the risen Jesus.
Not long ago on a mission trip with my youth group from Church of Epiphany we had an extended Acts community moment – for ten days in Central America we held all things in common, we served the poor, and we worshiped and ate together and sang together and played together. It happens for the Cathedral, too. Last summer Elizabeth Yale, one of your youth parishioners sat beside me on the way to the Episcopal Youth Event, and she told me about her J2A pilgrimage, the wondrous trip her class took to Northern California - of trips through the Redwood Forest, innovative worship experiences, long conversations and funny incidents on the road. It all comes together sometimes.
I commend you for all that you do as a congregation on the journey to the kingdom - for your generosity to those in need, for the programs you cultivate for children, youth and adults, for the beauty and power of your worship! Let us all continue forward in that way, and all the more – in the way of the cross, seeking daily to live out the covenant of our baptism – to live in the love, reconciliation, and fellowship of the cross. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Missioner for Youth, the Diocese of Bethlehem
April 23, 2006
Acts 4:32-35; Psalm 133; 1 John 1:1-2:2; John 20:19-31
Alleluia! The Lord is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed - Alleluia! Happy Easter, my sisters and brothers in Christ! What a joy it is to be with you today. I bring you greetings from your bishop and the whole diocesan staff.
It is Easter from now until Pentecost Sunday. We are in the midst of an Easter celebration, reveling in the news that our Lord is risen, healed and whole, gentle and victorious, humble and glorious. As it is written in the Song of Solomon, “for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.”
The prophecy of Gandalf from J.R.R. Tolkein’s allegory to the Christian faith, The Fellowship of the Ring has been fulfilled in the rising of Jesus from the tomb:
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire [has been] woken,
A light from the shadows [does] spring;
Renewed [is the] blade that was broken,
The crownless again [is the] king!
And in the proclamation of our story of our faith, we hear that the word of the resurrection is moving full throttle through Jerusalem. The band of brothers, the followers of Christ in the fellowship of the cross are – depsite threats and opposition from their enemy -- preaching the radically good news of Jesus Christ with power and zeal throughout the region of Jerusalem. They are sheperding a congregation of hundreds, even thousands of believers which is in and of itself, a miracle – and the whole body of believers, Luke writes in this fourth chapter of Acts, are of “one heart and soul.” In the power of the Holy Spirit, everything is coming together for this new community in Christ. No one in the congregation of the early church is bent out of shape (yet), or complaining, or vying for power. Everyone is pulling his or her weight. No one is hungry or thirsty or homeless, for they hold everything in common – they share all of their possessions and from that collective wealth, not one financial need goes unfulfilled. They are living out the covenant that they made on the miraculous day of their baptism, the ancient covenant that Christians to this very day make each and every time we baptize someone new into the life of Christ – a covenant to care for one another tenderly as family and to work as partners with God to bring about the kingdom of God on the earth God loves with such passion. The Acts community of believers here understand that in the fellowship of Christ everyone bears with joy, with willingness, the responsibility to care for the needs, to share the hopes, to encourage the dreams of everyone else and the responsibility to reach out to those in need.
Sometimes life in Christ is like that. Miracles happen left and right. People are fed. Faith flourishes. Enemies are kept at bay. Sometimes it all comes together. And sometimes it doesn’t, even if all the ingredients seem to be there.
Take for instance, the bean and lentil soup fiasco that happened to me and some friends of mine just a few weeks ago. We’re in an emerging church community called Peacemeal (www.peacemealcommunity.blogspot.com) which meets on Friday nights in my living room in Clarks Summit. Feeling pretty fired up during lent, we decided that we wanted to perform an act of love - to follow Jesus in the way of the cross. We were going to feed the homeless and working poor of Scranton. We called a local soup kitchen, which serves a lunch meal every day at noon for some advice. They estimated that they serve as many as 225 hungry people each day in Scranton. So we shopped, and we chopped and we made -- just to be safe – 300 servings of bean and lentil soup. And we bought 250 apples and 5 big sheets of brownies and vanilla pound cake. All week long it felt like Christmas! What kind of gifts would the day bring? Who would see the love of Christ in our eyes? In whose weary eyes would we see the love of Christ? The dinner was to start at 5:00. We’d imagined that it would take us a full hour and a half to move everyone through the line. But by 5:30 we had served everyone who was to eat that night. Did you ever notice the McDonald’s sign down the road – what is it now, over 200 billion served or something like that? Well, if Peacemeal were to have a sign it would be a little more humbling. It would read “over 20 served.”
Sometimes even when people try to live with the same power and zeal as the early church, it just doesn’t come together. A friend of ours from North Carolina tells of a time in his life when he, his wife and a group of enthusiastic believers decided to purchase a big house and live together there in community, praying together, eating together, holding all things in common. It went gloriously well for a time, but in the end, inevitably, tensions mounted and the community disintegrated over something so small as how many ounces of orange juice each person was allowed to drink each morning, or whose turn it was to take out the garbage. Living the life of the fellowship of Christ is not easy.
Even the disciples and all of those new believers did not live out the perfection of the few verses we read today for very long... In the verses that immediately follow Ananias and his wife Saphira decide to hold just a little money back for themselves. They lie to the disciples and fall over dead when confronted with their deception. There were arguments between and among the disciples about how to spread the message, about who needed to hear the story of Christ. The horrible persecution of those who followed Jesus grew heavier. More and more often the hand of the “predator” reached into the community and plucked up a believer, who was stoned or crucified and eventually even thrown to the lions. The persecution became so strong that the believers couldn’t live together or even be seen together because it was too dangerous. Many fell away and be came apostates, denying that they believed in the risen Christ. It was just too risky.
But a faithful remnant remained who wouldn’t give up. And because of them we sit here today. Because of them the radically good news of the risen Christ has reached into most every corner of the earth. And there are, in a good many places, at least outposts of peace and generosity and love which serve as places of renewal for the followers of Christ who continue to try. Who try to go out into the world to do the work God has given them to do, to love and serve God with gladness and singleness of heart. In another word of encouragement from Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring, we read:
The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.
The wheels of the world are turning. The kingdom of God is here - it is coming. Miraculous Acts 4 kind of moments don’t always come together. But we keep on sharing with those in need. We are faithful just one more day, to whomever our community may be – to our spouse, to our family, to our friends, to our church, and we try not to argue over orange juice. And then a day turns into a year, which turns into a week, which turns into a month, which turns into a lifetime of faithfulness. We continue to live out that baptismal covenant asking our parish where we are needed -- how we can live out the promise we make at each one’s baptism to encourage that one’s growth in faith. We keep on feeding hungry people until 20 turns to 200 and 200 turns to 2 million and 2 million turns into 200 billion, until 200 turns into “Everyone has been served!” And over time like a pebble covered with snow rolling down a big hill, momentum increases, power multiplies, people gather, the Holy Spirit stirs up hearts and minds and you find yourself in the midst of a revolution, part of the misseo dei - the mission of God – the magnificent kingdom of God which even now burgeons not only “up there” in heaven, or in some dimension just beyond the veil of our understanding -- but here and now in this big broken, hurting world that God loves so much – sometimes it all comes together!
Until the day when it all comes together for good, we enjoy those delightful “Acts community moments” when we get a glimpse of that powerful kingdom – like the moments that happen sometimes at youth events. As someone who works with youth a lot, I am blessed to see many such moments, like when the teen rector of Happening kneels down to wash the feet of his or her friends. Like the joy that I hope will come next week at Christophany as youth discover more about the risen Jesus.
Not long ago on a mission trip with my youth group from Church of Epiphany we had an extended Acts community moment – for ten days in Central America we held all things in common, we served the poor, and we worshiped and ate together and sang together and played together. It happens for the Cathedral, too. Last summer Elizabeth Yale, one of your youth parishioners sat beside me on the way to the Episcopal Youth Event, and she told me about her J2A pilgrimage, the wondrous trip her class took to Northern California - of trips through the Redwood Forest, innovative worship experiences, long conversations and funny incidents on the road. It all comes together sometimes.
I commend you for all that you do as a congregation on the journey to the kingdom - for your generosity to those in need, for the programs you cultivate for children, youth and adults, for the beauty and power of your worship! Let us all continue forward in that way, and all the more – in the way of the cross, seeking daily to live out the covenant of our baptism – to live in the love, reconciliation, and fellowship of the cross. Thanks be to God! Amen.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
The Great Vigil of Easter: Where do we go from here?
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
April 15, 2006
Mark 16:1-8
Where do we go from here? Just what do you suppose we should do next? We’ve had new fire, the beautifully chanted exultet, great story telling, a baptism, it’s Easter…and the Eucharist is coming up. What more could you want out of one service? Out of one community? Out of life?
Where do we go from here? This might be what Jack’s parents are thinking about now. It took a big effort to get here: to this Church, to this moment, to this baptism. But, as they well know, Baptism is not the end. It is not simply a matter of getting the baby done. Greg and Cheryl are well aware that this is only the beginning. After all, they have just promised to help their son grow into the full stature of Christ. They have some work to do. And by the way, so do we. We all promised to help. I hate to break it to all of you gathered here, but none of us is finished yet…not with Jack’s baptism, and not with ours either.
Baptism is an important event in and of itself. After all, we have been so bold as to call down the Holy Spirit to enter into this newest Christian. Yet it is not the baptismal rite itself but where it leads that is ultimately the point. Baptism is a threshold experience. We do not remain at the font. Jack is already older than he was when we poured water over his head. He is older than he was when we welcomed him into the household of God. He is older than he was when I stared this sermon. He has crossed the threshold of baptism and moved on into his life in Christ. Tonight, we are all moving with him. Did you feel it? Did you get wet? Tonight we too are carried along in the baptismal waters. This baptism recalls a knowledge of Gods’ presence in each of us.
So, where do we go from here? We ask the question because the answer is not always clear. Sometimes we ask the question with confidence, with a certain daring and a sense of completion. How could it get any better than this? But there are times when this question marks confusion, a sense of uncertainty or even despair. Often we don’t know what to do next, either because we are so full, so satiated and so at the top of our game that there seems no place left to go, or because our path seems so dark and we feel so lost that we don’t know if there is any way open to us at all. At those times we feel we have reached a dead end, exhausted all options.
Where do we go from here? This must have been what the women felt when they encountered the empty tomb. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome had been with Jesus for months, even years. These disciples who had traveled with him, shared meals with him and learned from him. These faithful women stood with him even at the foot of the cross. And after that horrible day, they lived through the next empty one.
I think it was the day after the crucifixion, the long Sabbath day after Jesus was laid in the tomb, when they hit the wall. I think it was on the day after, when these women arrived at a dead end. Do you know what the day after feels like? The day after disaster? Your adrenaline has run out and reality sets in. I think they were lost and thought they couldn’t get any more lost. And then…and then… on the next day…the third day, when the sun had just risen, they encountered the empty tomb.
What would it really be like to visit the graveside of your friend, perhaps with flowers in hand, and find an open and empty grave? Despite everything they had ever heard about Jesus and the messiah, they could not have expected this. No wonder they were alarmed! Instead of a body, they find a man in white, just sitting there. And then the man (an angel, perhaps ?) speaks, “Don’t be alarmed!” As if saying that ever helps ! Honestly, it would be a bit like someone telling first time parents not to be alarmed when their newborn suddenly spikes a fever for the first time. It’s not as if these women have encountered a resurrected savior before! Nor do they encounter one now. Jesus is not there.
“You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified,” says the man in white. “He has been raised; he is not here. He’s gone on ahead. You’ll catch up with him in Galilee. Just go and get Peter and the rest and meet him there.” Oh. He’s gone ahead to Galilee. Well that makes complete sense! Thank you very much sir, we’ll just be on our way now…..No. What happened next was those women got the heck out of there. As soon as their frozen hearts and legs would let them, they fled. They fled from the tomb seized with terror and amazement. And apparently they forgot their errand because in this gospel telling, “they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
That is how Mark’s gospel account ends: and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. Now if you go home and look un the gospel of Mark in your bible, you may find an added ending. Because the people that read Mark’s gospel couldn’t leave it there. Later writers added a whole bit about Mary Magdalene meeting the resurrected Jesus. Clearly that did happen. We have other accounts of it in the gospels of Luke, Matthew and John. Clearly the women did tell someone eventually, or else none of us would be here for such a very long church service tonight. But Mark’s gospel account ends in fear and silence. Perhaps that is a realistic response. What would it really be like to find yourself face to face with a fulfilled prophecy? How would you react if you encountered a resurrected Messiah when you went to visit the cemetery? If we fear death (and I think in our heart of hearts we all do), then I believe we fear resurrection more. I think if face to face with the reality of a risen messiah, we would be terrified.
Where do we go from here? Here we are, more than three quarters of the way into this Easter Vigil. We’ve had a new fire, some great stories, a baptism, an empty tomb….and terror and silence. Where do we go from here? Literally, tonight we go to the table. We make Eucharist. We will share an Easter feast and we will remember that Jesus lived and died and rose again. We will remember that because the tomb is empty, our lives are not. We will remember that what opens for those women with the empty tomb, is the possibility that all that Jesus said is true. He is the messiah. He is imbued with Godhead. He is the one who will save, has saved us all. And if that is true, then so is something else. All that Jesus said about us, and all that he calls us to be, is very real. As we make Eucharist tonight, we will remember that like those dry bones in the valley God can breathe life into us. God does breathe life into us. We are to live and to live to the fullest. We are to live into the full stature of Christ.
We will break bread and share in the one cup and be filled with the Holy Spirit. We will rejoice and be sent out into the world to share in this good news; all of us--even baby Jack (who is even older now). We will be sent out. Sometimes that will terrify us. Nevertheless, the story will be told and Christ’s redeeming love will continue to call others to the baptismal waters and the Eucharistic feast and we will go on. So--where will you go from here?
April 15, 2006
Mark 16:1-8
Where do we go from here? Just what do you suppose we should do next? We’ve had new fire, the beautifully chanted exultet, great story telling, a baptism, it’s Easter…and the Eucharist is coming up. What more could you want out of one service? Out of one community? Out of life?
Where do we go from here? This might be what Jack’s parents are thinking about now. It took a big effort to get here: to this Church, to this moment, to this baptism. But, as they well know, Baptism is not the end. It is not simply a matter of getting the baby done. Greg and Cheryl are well aware that this is only the beginning. After all, they have just promised to help their son grow into the full stature of Christ. They have some work to do. And by the way, so do we. We all promised to help. I hate to break it to all of you gathered here, but none of us is finished yet…not with Jack’s baptism, and not with ours either.
Baptism is an important event in and of itself. After all, we have been so bold as to call down the Holy Spirit to enter into this newest Christian. Yet it is not the baptismal rite itself but where it leads that is ultimately the point. Baptism is a threshold experience. We do not remain at the font. Jack is already older than he was when we poured water over his head. He is older than he was when we welcomed him into the household of God. He is older than he was when I stared this sermon. He has crossed the threshold of baptism and moved on into his life in Christ. Tonight, we are all moving with him. Did you feel it? Did you get wet? Tonight we too are carried along in the baptismal waters. This baptism recalls a knowledge of Gods’ presence in each of us.
So, where do we go from here? We ask the question because the answer is not always clear. Sometimes we ask the question with confidence, with a certain daring and a sense of completion. How could it get any better than this? But there are times when this question marks confusion, a sense of uncertainty or even despair. Often we don’t know what to do next, either because we are so full, so satiated and so at the top of our game that there seems no place left to go, or because our path seems so dark and we feel so lost that we don’t know if there is any way open to us at all. At those times we feel we have reached a dead end, exhausted all options.
Where do we go from here? This must have been what the women felt when they encountered the empty tomb. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome had been with Jesus for months, even years. These disciples who had traveled with him, shared meals with him and learned from him. These faithful women stood with him even at the foot of the cross. And after that horrible day, they lived through the next empty one.
I think it was the day after the crucifixion, the long Sabbath day after Jesus was laid in the tomb, when they hit the wall. I think it was on the day after, when these women arrived at a dead end. Do you know what the day after feels like? The day after disaster? Your adrenaline has run out and reality sets in. I think they were lost and thought they couldn’t get any more lost. And then…and then… on the next day…the third day, when the sun had just risen, they encountered the empty tomb.
What would it really be like to visit the graveside of your friend, perhaps with flowers in hand, and find an open and empty grave? Despite everything they had ever heard about Jesus and the messiah, they could not have expected this. No wonder they were alarmed! Instead of a body, they find a man in white, just sitting there. And then the man (an angel, perhaps ?) speaks, “Don’t be alarmed!” As if saying that ever helps ! Honestly, it would be a bit like someone telling first time parents not to be alarmed when their newborn suddenly spikes a fever for the first time. It’s not as if these women have encountered a resurrected savior before! Nor do they encounter one now. Jesus is not there.
“You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified,” says the man in white. “He has been raised; he is not here. He’s gone on ahead. You’ll catch up with him in Galilee. Just go and get Peter and the rest and meet him there.” Oh. He’s gone ahead to Galilee. Well that makes complete sense! Thank you very much sir, we’ll just be on our way now…..No. What happened next was those women got the heck out of there. As soon as their frozen hearts and legs would let them, they fled. They fled from the tomb seized with terror and amazement. And apparently they forgot their errand because in this gospel telling, “they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
That is how Mark’s gospel account ends: and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. Now if you go home and look un the gospel of Mark in your bible, you may find an added ending. Because the people that read Mark’s gospel couldn’t leave it there. Later writers added a whole bit about Mary Magdalene meeting the resurrected Jesus. Clearly that did happen. We have other accounts of it in the gospels of Luke, Matthew and John. Clearly the women did tell someone eventually, or else none of us would be here for such a very long church service tonight. But Mark’s gospel account ends in fear and silence. Perhaps that is a realistic response. What would it really be like to find yourself face to face with a fulfilled prophecy? How would you react if you encountered a resurrected Messiah when you went to visit the cemetery? If we fear death (and I think in our heart of hearts we all do), then I believe we fear resurrection more. I think if face to face with the reality of a risen messiah, we would be terrified.
Where do we go from here? Here we are, more than three quarters of the way into this Easter Vigil. We’ve had a new fire, some great stories, a baptism, an empty tomb….and terror and silence. Where do we go from here? Literally, tonight we go to the table. We make Eucharist. We will share an Easter feast and we will remember that Jesus lived and died and rose again. We will remember that because the tomb is empty, our lives are not. We will remember that what opens for those women with the empty tomb, is the possibility that all that Jesus said is true. He is the messiah. He is imbued with Godhead. He is the one who will save, has saved us all. And if that is true, then so is something else. All that Jesus said about us, and all that he calls us to be, is very real. As we make Eucharist tonight, we will remember that like those dry bones in the valley God can breathe life into us. God does breathe life into us. We are to live and to live to the fullest. We are to live into the full stature of Christ.
We will break bread and share in the one cup and be filled with the Holy Spirit. We will rejoice and be sent out into the world to share in this good news; all of us--even baby Jack (who is even older now). We will be sent out. Sometimes that will terrify us. Nevertheless, the story will be told and Christ’s redeeming love will continue to call others to the baptismal waters and the Eucharistic feast and we will go on. So--where will you go from here?
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Easter Sunday II: The Day of Resurrection
The Ven. Howard Stringfellow
April 17, 2006
at 11 o'clock in the morning
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
This is the Day that preachers yearn to see. This is the Day when we get our chance to show the many people that are here that the preaching is pretty good on the other fifty-one Sundays of the year.
Despite the great music, the beautiful flowers, and the people, this is the Day that we all can relax. The Day is out of our control. And it’s out of our understanding. We preach what cannot be proved unless you know the Lord, and if you do, we preach the undeniable and the incontrovertible.
For this is the Day of the Resurrection, when Jesus Christ was raised from the dead to the glory of the Father. As the Psalmist wrote so long ago and as we have just sung together: “On this day the LORD has acted; * we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Today marks God’s action. We can stare into the empty tomb with Peter, John, who is the disciple who Jesus loved, and Mary Magdalene. And we can relax in what God has done.
Christians have it easy when you think of it. We’ve just finished Lent with its special disciplines and special demands, but they seem to me pale and weak when you consider Islam’s Ramadan, the ninth month, the sacred month, in their year when they fast every day from dawn to sunset. And in Islam, don’t forget, no spirits or wine is permitted on any day of the year, three hundred sixty-five days of the year. Christians enjoy much freedom by comparison.
And we enjoy more freedom, I think, than the Jews, who now are celebrating Passover, a festival, which obliges them to eat unleavened bread, to eat particular foods, and to use special vessels for cooking and eating—all this in addition to the day-by-day separation of meat and dairy foods, and the necessity of keeping the Sabbath holy, of worshipping and doing no work on that day.
By comparison, we Christians have few demands. We have taken on the yoke of Christ, who invites us all to be part of him: “Come to me, all whose work is hard, whose load is heavy; and I will give you relief. Bend your necks to my yoke, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble-hearted; and your souls will find relief. For my yoke is good to bear, and my load is light.” We can relax today, because the yoke we bear is light. God has done for us what we could never do for ourselves.
We’re given an example of how little we actually have to do when Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene after his resurrection. She goes to the tomb and discovers the stone to have been moved and the Lord to be missing. “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” She’s perfectly rational, perfectly reasonable. A rocket scientist could say the same. The empty tomb alone does not persuade her.
And as the proclamation of the Gospel continues, we hear the moving encounter between Mary Magdalene and Jesus, whom she supposes is the Gardener. In her sadness and grief, and in her unbelief, she weeps. And a voice asks her, “‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ Whom are you looking for?’” “‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me were you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’” And she has only to recognize him.
He was the last person she expected to see. But he was the one standing right beside her. He does for her what she cannot do for herself. From time to time, more often than you might think, people visit me by night, as the Scriptures say of Nicodemus’ visit to Jesus, and they ask, “How do I find the Lord in my life?” Like Mary, they see the empty tomb. They know the Lord is missing. They talk to gardeners, doctors, and family, but they want to know that they have seen the Lord, as Mary later announces to the disciples. The best I can say to them is that he makes himself known on his own schedule and often to people who least expect him—like Mary herself, supposing him to be the gardener. His yoke is easy. And his burden is light. He makes himself known even to those who do not believe, like Mary, who believes at first not in the resurrection but in the theft of the Lord’s body. He makes himself known to those who aren’t especially looking to find him. He makes himself known to those who hope and pray never to meet him. He makes himself known to those who, like Mary, will dedicate themselves to make his resurrection known. Many of the people who come to me by night have already seen the Lord. They just haven’t put the name to the face, just like Mary Magdalene.
So, it is good advice today, of all days, to relax. Even as we take our ease, the Gardener is approaching. Even as we go about our business, he is looking to meet us. Even as we celebrate with family and friends, he moves forward, humbly and quietly, to make our acquaintance. As Saint Paul wrote to the Christians in Colossae, “When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.” Alleluia! Christ is risen!
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
April 17, 2006
at 11 o'clock in the morning
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
This is the Day that preachers yearn to see. This is the Day when we get our chance to show the many people that are here that the preaching is pretty good on the other fifty-one Sundays of the year.
Despite the great music, the beautiful flowers, and the people, this is the Day that we all can relax. The Day is out of our control. And it’s out of our understanding. We preach what cannot be proved unless you know the Lord, and if you do, we preach the undeniable and the incontrovertible.
For this is the Day of the Resurrection, when Jesus Christ was raised from the dead to the glory of the Father. As the Psalmist wrote so long ago and as we have just sung together: “On this day the LORD has acted; * we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Today marks God’s action. We can stare into the empty tomb with Peter, John, who is the disciple who Jesus loved, and Mary Magdalene. And we can relax in what God has done.
Christians have it easy when you think of it. We’ve just finished Lent with its special disciplines and special demands, but they seem to me pale and weak when you consider Islam’s Ramadan, the ninth month, the sacred month, in their year when they fast every day from dawn to sunset. And in Islam, don’t forget, no spirits or wine is permitted on any day of the year, three hundred sixty-five days of the year. Christians enjoy much freedom by comparison.
And we enjoy more freedom, I think, than the Jews, who now are celebrating Passover, a festival, which obliges them to eat unleavened bread, to eat particular foods, and to use special vessels for cooking and eating—all this in addition to the day-by-day separation of meat and dairy foods, and the necessity of keeping the Sabbath holy, of worshipping and doing no work on that day.
By comparison, we Christians have few demands. We have taken on the yoke of Christ, who invites us all to be part of him: “Come to me, all whose work is hard, whose load is heavy; and I will give you relief. Bend your necks to my yoke, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble-hearted; and your souls will find relief. For my yoke is good to bear, and my load is light.” We can relax today, because the yoke we bear is light. God has done for us what we could never do for ourselves.
We’re given an example of how little we actually have to do when Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene after his resurrection. She goes to the tomb and discovers the stone to have been moved and the Lord to be missing. “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” She’s perfectly rational, perfectly reasonable. A rocket scientist could say the same. The empty tomb alone does not persuade her.
And as the proclamation of the Gospel continues, we hear the moving encounter between Mary Magdalene and Jesus, whom she supposes is the Gardener. In her sadness and grief, and in her unbelief, she weeps. And a voice asks her, “‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ Whom are you looking for?’” “‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me were you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’” And she has only to recognize him.
He was the last person she expected to see. But he was the one standing right beside her. He does for her what she cannot do for herself. From time to time, more often than you might think, people visit me by night, as the Scriptures say of Nicodemus’ visit to Jesus, and they ask, “How do I find the Lord in my life?” Like Mary, they see the empty tomb. They know the Lord is missing. They talk to gardeners, doctors, and family, but they want to know that they have seen the Lord, as Mary later announces to the disciples. The best I can say to them is that he makes himself known on his own schedule and often to people who least expect him—like Mary herself, supposing him to be the gardener. His yoke is easy. And his burden is light. He makes himself known even to those who do not believe, like Mary, who believes at first not in the resurrection but in the theft of the Lord’s body. He makes himself known to those who aren’t especially looking to find him. He makes himself known to those who hope and pray never to meet him. He makes himself known to those who, like Mary, will dedicate themselves to make his resurrection known. Many of the people who come to me by night have already seen the Lord. They just haven’t put the name to the face, just like Mary Magdalene.
So, it is good advice today, of all days, to relax. Even as we take our ease, the Gardener is approaching. Even as we go about our business, he is looking to meet us. Even as we celebrate with family and friends, he moves forward, humbly and quietly, to make our acquaintance. As Saint Paul wrote to the Christians in Colossae, “When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.” Alleluia! Christ is risen!
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
Easter Sunday: The Day of Resurrection
The Ven. Howard Stringfellow
April 17, 2006
at 8 o'clock in the morning
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If you think it’s challenging to sing at eight o’clock in the morning, I want you to try preaching.
Today marks your new beginning whether it feels like it or not. For Christ’s resurrection created the church. We simply would not be here if the first disciples of Jesus, returning to his tomb at dawn on that first Easter Day morning had found, as they expected to find, his dead body. Because of the onset of the Sabbath at dusk on Good Friday, they had only been able to lay him in the tomb. Being good Jews, they could not anoint his body. They had to wait until the Sabbath was over.
But what they found, instead of his dead body, was his empty tomb. At first, they thought someone had taken his body away. Then Peter entered the tomb and saw the linen cloths. Then John, the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, also went in, and he saw its gaping emptiness. He saw, and he believed. Peter, as you know, recollects himself, so that he could say, as he does in the first reading, “You know .… how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.”
I believe that is why you are all here this morning. Whatever else you know, you are aware of how extraordinary Jesus was. Because of his love and mercy for the outcast and the people on the margins; because of his power to heal the sick and afflicted, to bring peace and sanity to the disturbed and even the possessed; because of his loving honesty that afflicted the powerful, the comfortable, and the self-righteous; because of his amazing sense of inner security and peace and his fearlessness in the face of all the things that make us fearful. If slow at the tomb, Peter was right later when he spoke the first reading today.
So that we may not be slow in the face of the empty tomb, we all need to understand two things.
One. It was inevitable that Jesus would go through his suffering and death, terrible as it was. Jesus knew this and said so. The disciples, led by Peter, would not hear it, but Jesus insisted on it. Actually, Jesus’ death was more than inevitable. It was necessary. The necessity stems from the fact that God is not only almighty. God is almighty love. God, out of almighty love, created human freedom, and with that freedom, God allowed for the possibility that we would choose not to love him in return. God took the risk, out of love, that we would choose to get lost. It was necessary for God to come among us, and in coming among us, endure the worst we had to offer, so that he could bring us back with his almighty love.
Two. Although it was necessary that Christ die, it was impossible for death to hold onto him. In words from a hymn, “They cut me down, but I leapt up high. I am the Life that will never, never die.” We do not speak of a resuscitated corpse. But neither do we speak of a disembodied spirit, a soul, or a ghost. On this side of things, on earth’s side of heaven, all that was left was an empty tomb and some grave cloths. On the other side of things, on heaven’s side of earth, the risen Lord shows us something entirely unexpected and new. Saint Paul describes the mystery in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, chapter 15, in verses following those of the Epistle: “What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable .… It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power.” One of my favorite verses, found in the Epistle to the Colossians, puts the resurrection this way: “You have died, and your life is hid with Christ in God.”
Again, today marks your new beginning whether it feels like it or not. Beloved in Christ: take hold of this gift today. Let go of all the dead things that waste so much of our time and energy. Let us leave them behind for others to gawk at, like the burial linen in Jesus’ tomb. Let us get a grip, as they say, on life, which is hid with Christ in God and which will take us through everything, even death. And let’s be ready to tell people the Good News, the reason why we have a new lease, a new beginning, on this the most glorious day of Creation.
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
April 17, 2006
at 8 o'clock in the morning
In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If you think it’s challenging to sing at eight o’clock in the morning, I want you to try preaching.
Today marks your new beginning whether it feels like it or not. For Christ’s resurrection created the church. We simply would not be here if the first disciples of Jesus, returning to his tomb at dawn on that first Easter Day morning had found, as they expected to find, his dead body. Because of the onset of the Sabbath at dusk on Good Friday, they had only been able to lay him in the tomb. Being good Jews, they could not anoint his body. They had to wait until the Sabbath was over.
But what they found, instead of his dead body, was his empty tomb. At first, they thought someone had taken his body away. Then Peter entered the tomb and saw the linen cloths. Then John, the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, also went in, and he saw its gaping emptiness. He saw, and he believed. Peter, as you know, recollects himself, so that he could say, as he does in the first reading, “You know .… how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.”
I believe that is why you are all here this morning. Whatever else you know, you are aware of how extraordinary Jesus was. Because of his love and mercy for the outcast and the people on the margins; because of his power to heal the sick and afflicted, to bring peace and sanity to the disturbed and even the possessed; because of his loving honesty that afflicted the powerful, the comfortable, and the self-righteous; because of his amazing sense of inner security and peace and his fearlessness in the face of all the things that make us fearful. If slow at the tomb, Peter was right later when he spoke the first reading today.
So that we may not be slow in the face of the empty tomb, we all need to understand two things.
One. It was inevitable that Jesus would go through his suffering and death, terrible as it was. Jesus knew this and said so. The disciples, led by Peter, would not hear it, but Jesus insisted on it. Actually, Jesus’ death was more than inevitable. It was necessary. The necessity stems from the fact that God is not only almighty. God is almighty love. God, out of almighty love, created human freedom, and with that freedom, God allowed for the possibility that we would choose not to love him in return. God took the risk, out of love, that we would choose to get lost. It was necessary for God to come among us, and in coming among us, endure the worst we had to offer, so that he could bring us back with his almighty love.
Two. Although it was necessary that Christ die, it was impossible for death to hold onto him. In words from a hymn, “They cut me down, but I leapt up high. I am the Life that will never, never die.” We do not speak of a resuscitated corpse. But neither do we speak of a disembodied spirit, a soul, or a ghost. On this side of things, on earth’s side of heaven, all that was left was an empty tomb and some grave cloths. On the other side of things, on heaven’s side of earth, the risen Lord shows us something entirely unexpected and new. Saint Paul describes the mystery in the First Epistle to the Corinthians, chapter 15, in verses following those of the Epistle: “What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable .… It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power.” One of my favorite verses, found in the Epistle to the Colossians, puts the resurrection this way: “You have died, and your life is hid with Christ in God.”
Again, today marks your new beginning whether it feels like it or not. Beloved in Christ: take hold of this gift today. Let go of all the dead things that waste so much of our time and energy. Let us leave them behind for others to gawk at, like the burial linen in Jesus’ tomb. Let us get a grip, as they say, on life, which is hid with Christ in God and which will take us through everything, even death. And let’s be ready to tell people the Good News, the reason why we have a new lease, a new beginning, on this the most glorious day of Creation.
In Christ’s Name. Amen.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Good Friday at the Cathedral: Words from the Cross
The First Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Anne Kitch
"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Luke 23:34
Jesus, hangs on the cross. Jesus, the son of God. Jesus, the divine one. Jesus who taught his disciples to forgive seventy time seven. Jesus cannot forgive. His words are not, “I forgive you,” but, “Father, you forgive them.” Jesus asks, in fact commands God to forgive. God, you forgive them. The verb tense he uses for forgive is an imperative*. It is not an entreaty, but a command. Or perhaps, a plea? Jesus, who is fully divine on the cross, must have the power to forgive. Yet, Jesus who is fully human on the cross, does not have the will to forgive. Even so, he still has the grace to know that forgiveness is what it means to be God’s own, to be God’s son, to be a human being in love with God. Jesus, who cannot forgive them the cross, flings it to God. You do it. I can’t.
Too often we think of forgiveness as the same as acquittal. If we forgive someone then it must be as if the hurt never happened. Forgive and forget. But forgiveness is not acquittal at all. There is still the hurt. The consequences of the action remain. The effects of hurt and of sin do not disappear. The suffering that accompanies sin is very real. True forgiveness does not mask the suffering, does not deny it, does not try to pretend that nothing ever happened. Should Jesus try to pretend that the cross doesn’t matter, that’s it’s OK? Should we?
To offer forgiveness that honors the suffering requires a measure of love that is often beyond our human limitations. There are wounds which we cannot forgive. There are wounds which take us years to forgive. At this moment on the cross, Jesus cannot afford years. So he flings his life, and his suffering and his need to forgive into God’s hands. Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. It is beyond Jesus. But it is not beyond God.
*See The Force of Forgiveness, Minka Sprague in The Living Pulpit, 2005. Pulpit.org
The Second Word from the Cross
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
"One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ But the other rebuked him, saying, ‘Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’ " Luke 23:39-43
Jesus had been silent for a long time. Praying, perhaps. Focused on his pain, perhaps. Listening to the taunts, perhaps, of the mob, of the authorities, of the soldiers; listening to the taunt of the man hanging beside him, perhaps.
Those hung on the crosses beside him must have known about him; must have heard, at least, of his parade into Jerusalem, heard of his audacious and rambunctious behavior at the temple, heard of some of the claims about him. Heard enough for one to taunt him, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ If taunting it was, and not a desperate prayer of a desperate man in a desperate situation.
And the second thief certainly knew something about him, and having heard and having nothing to lose and everything to hope for, he asked, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
Who did he think he was? Speaking of audacious! The likes of him asking for a place reserved for the disciples; to be in the presence of Jesus when he comes into his kingdom. Scum of the earth. Robber of the poor, taking from those who had nothing! At least he knew that his punishment on the cross was just. But still, the impertinence to ask, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
But look at his faith. If he had been present with Jesus in his ministry and seen what Jesus did and heard what Jesus said, If he had been at the synagogue in Nazareth, if he had been on the hillside, if he had been at Capernaum, if he had been on the shore of Galilee, if he had been in Bethany when Lazarus died, if he had seen Jesus strong and sure at the top of his game and in his element, you might imagine that he would, that he could, have faith that strong.
But here he is next to this crucified man. Hair matted with blood, body beaten, bloody and bruised, slowly dying in the hot sun, body sagging lower and lower on the cross. This was no star prophet. This was no champion miracle worker. This was a criminal dying on the cross of a criminal.
‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
Probably not even knowing what he was asking, what it meant to ask such a thing, he had enough faith to ask. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to prevail. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to overcome. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to come into his kingdom. Faith the size of a mustard seed and faith strong enough to transcend death on a cross. What a faith!
And what an answer! ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’
Jesus had been silent for a long time, but he heard that man’s prayer and he answered it.
If Jesus would answer the prayer of that thief at that moment is such a wonderful way, how do you think he will answer your prayer?
The Third Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Jane Teter
"Woman, here is your son…Here is your mother." John 19:23-27
"When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says, “They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” And that is what the soldiers did. Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home." John 19:23-27
As we approach this scene, we see that there are four women standing with John at the foot of the cross. There is Mary, Jesus’ mother, and his mother’s sister, Salome – the mother of James and John, the sons of Zebedee. There is Mary, the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene, who owed so much to our Lord. We know very little about Mary the wife of Clopas, some think he was the brother of Joseph, Jesus’ step-father.
The four women are watching the four soldiers as they argue about dividing Jesus’ clothing after he was hanging on the cross. Very possibly these women were the ones who made these garments, as they provided for Jesus and his apostles. And here are the soldiers casting lots for his tunic. How must these women have felt? These women loved this Man as no man had ever been loved. One had borne him in her womb and suckled him at her breast. Of course Mary had been warned that a sword would pierce her own heart, but how could she imagine her son being dragged through the streets of Jerusalem, beaten, made to carry his cross, stripped naked and nailed to that cross.
While lots were being cast, Jesus looks down from the cross. He is almost at the end of his struggle. His words from the cross had been for others, his enemies, his executioners (Father, forgive them); for the penitent thief (Today you will be with me in paradise). Now he looks down and sees his Mother and John, the beloved disciple, and he delivers her into John’s keeping: “Woman, behold your son; behold your mother.” And John took her to his own home from that very hour. Even in his suffering, Jesus was concerned about his mother and who would care for her. It was an act of concern, of love, of putting his human affairs in order.
William Temple suggests that Jesus wanted John to take Mary away at that very moment, sparing her his final dying moments. We do not know for sure, but we do know that John was there at the end. I think that Mary was there also – in all of her anguish, it would have been difficult to drag her away. This was her son, dying a horrible death. How must Mary have felt – helpless, being unable to do anything to save her Son. There was nothing she could do to make this go away, to make it better. All she could do was watch and pray. (Many of you have been in situations where you have felt this way – helpless, unable to do anything. But, perhaps, being present and praying is enough).
Ann Weems wrote a poem entitled: Even Now
She stands
beneath him dying
and will not be persuaded to leave,
despite the urging of the others.
They huddle against her
in an effort to hold her
against the pain,
but she stands erect,
unleaning,
her eyes upon his face.
From the hillside
the sounds of weeping and wailing
hang heavy in the air,
but she who held him
in a stable in Bethlehem
stands silent
beneath his cross in Jerusalem,
her heart pondering still,
her soul magnifying the Lord,
her spirit praising God,
knowing even now
that she is blessed among women.
The Fourth Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Bill Lewellis
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Mark 15:34
"I had a revelation during last evening’s Eucharist. The preacher helped. I recognized that what Jesus was really saying to Peter when Peter made his protest about letting Jesus wash his feet was, “Ah, Peter, let me love you.”
This afternoon, I know that the meaning of Good Friday, too, is God’s incredible love for us. Incredible. Hard to believe. Hard to believe because, for any number of reasons, we find it difficult to accept love and simply say thank you. We’d prefer fair play – forgetting, perhaps, that if God were merely fair, we wouldn’t stand a chance.
God’s word to us today, as I hear it, is: Let God love you. Let God love you.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Two of the gospel writers, Matthew and Mark, say simply that Jesus said these words from the cross before he died. What they don’t say is whether the words on Jesus’ lips were an utterance of prayer or a cry of utter despair.
A prayer? Well, the words are the beginning of Psalm 22, which Jesus knew from the Jewish scriptures.
Despair? The psalm is filled with sounds of despair:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
and are so far from my cry
and from the words of my distress?
O my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer;
by night as well, but I find no rest.
I am a worm and no man,
Scorned and despised by the people.
All who see me laugh me to scorn;
They curl their lips and wag their heads, saying,
“He trusted in the Lord, let him deliver him;
let him rescue him, if he delights in him.
And later in the psalm, the Contemporary English Version of the psalm reads:
You, God, have left me to die in the dirt.
Sounds to me from those verses like a cry of despair.
But take a look at how Psalm 22 reads over all. It’s one of many examples in the scriptures that one-verse proofing proves nothing.
Most of Psalm 22 moves quickly, two to three verses at a time, from cries of utter desperation to prayers of complete trust.
Here are a few of the verses I purposely skipped:
Yet (a crucial word, it seems, in the scriptures) …
Yet you are the Holy One,
enthroned upon the praises of Israel.
Our forefathers put their trust in you;
they trusted, and you delivered them.
They cried out to you and were delivered
they trusted in you and were not put to shame.
Then, a few more verses of despair ... after which we read:
Yet you are he who took me out of the womb,
and kept me safe upon my mother’s breast.
I have been entrusted to you ever since I was born,
you were my God when I was still in my mother’s womb.
Be not far from me, for trouble is near,
and there is none to help.
Utter despair or complete trust?
For me … both.
After all, Jesus was truly human.
I want to tell you something that, for most of my adult life, has been crucial to my relationship with Jesus.
Before doing so, however, let me say this: I can’t think of a time in my life that I did not believe in God in Jesus. I have always believed in … and I set my heart today on God in Jesus.
For most of my adult life, however, it has been crucial to my relationship with Jesus to think that Jesus lived his life without knowing how things were going to turn out … that he was not an actor who knew the ending of the script. I believe in the true man in Jesus. I set my heart on Jesus as true man.
Because Jesus was truly human, he had no more (and no less) reason to trust God than you and I do. He had the tradition. He had the scriptures. It seems he knew them well. He had friends. He had prayer.
Those who wrote the gospels (after the resurrection) knew then more than Jesus (when he walked his way of the cross) about how things would turn out. That is crucial for me. Otherwise, I would have to believe Jesus, when he suffered and died, was simply a good actor. And if I believed Jesus were an actor, I could not believe that he understands how I think, how I feel, how I can live through hills and valley of prayer and despair … how I struggle to understand myself.
Though I set my heart on both the man and the God in Jesus, though it is crucial to know in faith that the man on the cross was God, believing that Jesus did not know he was God has in crucial ways meant more to me than believing he was.
The man on the cross did not know he was God. But he trusted, in the face of evidence to the contrary, that God loved him, that God delighted in him. The God on the cross loved the man on the crorss – passing over with him through death to new life.
On this Good Friday, may we know God’s incredible love for us. Let God love you. Let God love you.
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
The Fifth Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Joel Atkinson
"I thirst." John 19:28
there are all kinds of thirst.
the thirst of one in an arid place
a place where lips
and skin are parched
a place where the tongue clings
to roof of one’s mouth
jesus considering what he’d been through
had to have felt deeply
this kind of physical thirst
those who offered vinegar
to quench his thirst
obviously thought so
“I THIRST!”
i believe his thirst was deeper
than this parching kind of thirst
perhaps he thirsted for all
his dying so young
would cause him to miss in life
no wife
no family
never the satisfaction of living to a ripe old age
surrounded by those he loved
jesus knew authorities
both national and roman
viewed him a dangerous man
possibly a revolutionary
a trouble maker
an upsetter of the apple cart
maybe even a terrorist threat
jesus had to have known
humiliation and execution
were in the realm of possibility
jesus cried in dread and fear of all the things
other mortals might make him bear
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
yet though existential dreads and losses were felt
i believe his deepest thirsty cry
was of another sort
“My God my God why have you forsaken me!”
maybe jesus in his anguished thirsty cry
sought assurance from god
his life had not been in vain
abandoned by pledgers of allegiance to his ministry
now suffering excruciating mental
physical and
spiritual pain
he must have ask
where’s the father he so loved
and ever sought to mind?
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
yet I believe there was even a deeper kind of thirst he felt
as his life lost focus
in the seeming denial of all his life had meant
in the anguish he personally felt
he cried forgiveness
in an incomprehensible leap of faith
‘cause from his lips issued hope
to another suffering
upon a neighboring bloody tool of death
“Today you will be with me in paradise.”
a cry of thirst for life
not just for that dying thief
but in that affirmation of hope
in the midst death
for that thief
himself
and all of us as well
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
one more thirst remains
he thirsted
for all who knew his life
for all who’d heard his words
for all who’d witnessed his deeds
for all who’d met him
for even those who knew him not
that they will come to know the loving Father he had known
that they would seek
to make real the love of God they’d felt
and that all God’s children
with that thief and himself
would finally and most fully
be enfolded into the eternal life of God.
The Sixth Word from the Cross
The Ven Richard I. Cluett
"When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit." John 19:30
He gave it up. He gave it over. The work of Jesus of Nazareth is done. All is finished, but nothing is lost. His spirit rests on you and me and the church.
There does come a time, doesn’t it when we need to say, “It’s over.” “Let it go.” “Give it up.” “Move on.” “It is finished.”
“On the seventh day God finished the work he had done, and on the seventh day he rested from all the work he had done.” Genesis 2:2
It’s time to put away childish things and grow up, childhood is finished. A marriage is begun, being priority number one is finished. The job is finished. A relationship ends, it is finished. Our abilities are impaired and it’s time to stop driving, it is finished. Eventually we will die, it will be finished.
Acknowledge the inevitable? Perhaps. Recognize reality? Perhaps. Admit to our finitude? Perhaps. For everything there is a season? Perhaps.
How do we do it, though? That is the question. How do we let it go? How do we give it up? How do we move on? How do we finish?
Do we rage and storm? Sturm and drang? Curse God and die? Or do we go gently into that good night, that future, that next stage?
All finishes contain the opportunity to trust – or not? Finishing school and going out into the work-a-day world. Finishing work and going into retirement? Finishing this life. All are opportunities for trust and for grace. Endings are part of all life.
It is because Jesus finished that we can end whatever needs ending safely, with trust and grace. Jesus has given us his spirit, and one another, and hope, and eternal life and, and, and, and...
It is safe to say, it is okay to say, “It is finished” when it is finished.
The Seventh Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Anne Kitch
"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Luke 23:46
I don’t know what it is like to die. I don’t know if there is that moment, when you are being killed, that you realize that you are going to die and that it is all going to end. I don’t know if there is a conscious moment when you can make one final act of will, one final choice to let go. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. The final action of Jesus on the cross, Jesus’ final choice, is to let go. But it is more than that. It is to give. His final act is to give himself, to offer himself, to place himself in God’s hands. Jesus dying act is to entrust himself to a loving father. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.
Into your hands. What are God’s hands like?
It’s elements were unremarkable: a basin, a pitcher of water, and a towel. As we celebrated Maundy Thursday here in this Cathedral last night, a father and child came forward for the ritual foot washing. The father sat in a wooden chapel chair as the child knelt at his feet. They were unobserved by most in the congregation who were singing a hymn at the time. The father placed his bare feet in the basin, the young child carefully poured warm water on them, then picked them up one by one and held them in her small hands. She gently washed each one, intent on her task. This was not a symbolic act for her. There was nothing perfunctory in her movements. Her hands held his feet fast. He gave himself over into her care. It was loving. It was safe. It was redeeming.
Into your hands I commend my spirit. These words on the lips of Jesus are quoted from a psalm (Psalm 31:5). What are God’s hands like?
God’s hands, which lovingly created the world:
In the beginning, O Lord, you laid the foundations of the earth and the heavens are the work of your hands (Psalm 102:25)
God’s hands, which faithfully reach for us:
The works of his hands are faithfulness and justice, all his commandments are sure (Psalm 111.7)
God’s hands, which never let go:
My soul clings to you, your right hand holds me fast (Psalm 63:8)
Into your hands, I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me, O Lord O God of truth, the psalmist prays. Into your hand I commend my spirit, Jesus prays.
Into your hands.
The Rev. Canon Anne Kitch
"Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Luke 23:34
Jesus, hangs on the cross. Jesus, the son of God. Jesus, the divine one. Jesus who taught his disciples to forgive seventy time seven. Jesus cannot forgive. His words are not, “I forgive you,” but, “Father, you forgive them.” Jesus asks, in fact commands God to forgive. God, you forgive them. The verb tense he uses for forgive is an imperative*. It is not an entreaty, but a command. Or perhaps, a plea? Jesus, who is fully divine on the cross, must have the power to forgive. Yet, Jesus who is fully human on the cross, does not have the will to forgive. Even so, he still has the grace to know that forgiveness is what it means to be God’s own, to be God’s son, to be a human being in love with God. Jesus, who cannot forgive them the cross, flings it to God. You do it. I can’t.
Too often we think of forgiveness as the same as acquittal. If we forgive someone then it must be as if the hurt never happened. Forgive and forget. But forgiveness is not acquittal at all. There is still the hurt. The consequences of the action remain. The effects of hurt and of sin do not disappear. The suffering that accompanies sin is very real. True forgiveness does not mask the suffering, does not deny it, does not try to pretend that nothing ever happened. Should Jesus try to pretend that the cross doesn’t matter, that’s it’s OK? Should we?
To offer forgiveness that honors the suffering requires a measure of love that is often beyond our human limitations. There are wounds which we cannot forgive. There are wounds which take us years to forgive. At this moment on the cross, Jesus cannot afford years. So he flings his life, and his suffering and his need to forgive into God’s hands. Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. It is beyond Jesus. But it is not beyond God.
*See The Force of Forgiveness, Minka Sprague in The Living Pulpit, 2005. Pulpit.org
The Second Word from the Cross
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
"One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ But the other rebuked him, saying, ‘Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’ " Luke 23:39-43
Jesus had been silent for a long time. Praying, perhaps. Focused on his pain, perhaps. Listening to the taunts, perhaps, of the mob, of the authorities, of the soldiers; listening to the taunt of the man hanging beside him, perhaps.
Those hung on the crosses beside him must have known about him; must have heard, at least, of his parade into Jerusalem, heard of his audacious and rambunctious behavior at the temple, heard of some of the claims about him. Heard enough for one to taunt him, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ If taunting it was, and not a desperate prayer of a desperate man in a desperate situation.
And the second thief certainly knew something about him, and having heard and having nothing to lose and everything to hope for, he asked, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
Who did he think he was? Speaking of audacious! The likes of him asking for a place reserved for the disciples; to be in the presence of Jesus when he comes into his kingdom. Scum of the earth. Robber of the poor, taking from those who had nothing! At least he knew that his punishment on the cross was just. But still, the impertinence to ask, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
But look at his faith. If he had been present with Jesus in his ministry and seen what Jesus did and heard what Jesus said, If he had been at the synagogue in Nazareth, if he had been on the hillside, if he had been at Capernaum, if he had been on the shore of Galilee, if he had been in Bethany when Lazarus died, if he had seen Jesus strong and sure at the top of his game and in his element, you might imagine that he would, that he could, have faith that strong.
But here he is next to this crucified man. Hair matted with blood, body beaten, bloody and bruised, slowly dying in the hot sun, body sagging lower and lower on the cross. This was no star prophet. This was no champion miracle worker. This was a criminal dying on the cross of a criminal.
‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’
Probably not even knowing what he was asking, what it meant to ask such a thing, he had enough faith to ask. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to prevail. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to overcome. Faith that this crucified man was somehow going to come into his kingdom. Faith the size of a mustard seed and faith strong enough to transcend death on a cross. What a faith!
And what an answer! ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’
Jesus had been silent for a long time, but he heard that man’s prayer and he answered it.
If Jesus would answer the prayer of that thief at that moment is such a wonderful way, how do you think he will answer your prayer?
The Third Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Jane Teter
"Woman, here is your son…Here is your mother." John 19:23-27
"When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says, “They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” And that is what the soldiers did. Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home." John 19:23-27
As we approach this scene, we see that there are four women standing with John at the foot of the cross. There is Mary, Jesus’ mother, and his mother’s sister, Salome – the mother of James and John, the sons of Zebedee. There is Mary, the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene, who owed so much to our Lord. We know very little about Mary the wife of Clopas, some think he was the brother of Joseph, Jesus’ step-father.
The four women are watching the four soldiers as they argue about dividing Jesus’ clothing after he was hanging on the cross. Very possibly these women were the ones who made these garments, as they provided for Jesus and his apostles. And here are the soldiers casting lots for his tunic. How must these women have felt? These women loved this Man as no man had ever been loved. One had borne him in her womb and suckled him at her breast. Of course Mary had been warned that a sword would pierce her own heart, but how could she imagine her son being dragged through the streets of Jerusalem, beaten, made to carry his cross, stripped naked and nailed to that cross.
While lots were being cast, Jesus looks down from the cross. He is almost at the end of his struggle. His words from the cross had been for others, his enemies, his executioners (Father, forgive them); for the penitent thief (Today you will be with me in paradise). Now he looks down and sees his Mother and John, the beloved disciple, and he delivers her into John’s keeping: “Woman, behold your son; behold your mother.” And John took her to his own home from that very hour. Even in his suffering, Jesus was concerned about his mother and who would care for her. It was an act of concern, of love, of putting his human affairs in order.
William Temple suggests that Jesus wanted John to take Mary away at that very moment, sparing her his final dying moments. We do not know for sure, but we do know that John was there at the end. I think that Mary was there also – in all of her anguish, it would have been difficult to drag her away. This was her son, dying a horrible death. How must Mary have felt – helpless, being unable to do anything to save her Son. There was nothing she could do to make this go away, to make it better. All she could do was watch and pray. (Many of you have been in situations where you have felt this way – helpless, unable to do anything. But, perhaps, being present and praying is enough).
Ann Weems wrote a poem entitled: Even Now
She stands
beneath him dying
and will not be persuaded to leave,
despite the urging of the others.
They huddle against her
in an effort to hold her
against the pain,
but she stands erect,
unleaning,
her eyes upon his face.
From the hillside
the sounds of weeping and wailing
hang heavy in the air,
but she who held him
in a stable in Bethlehem
stands silent
beneath his cross in Jerusalem,
her heart pondering still,
her soul magnifying the Lord,
her spirit praising God,
knowing even now
that she is blessed among women.
The Fourth Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Bill Lewellis
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Mark 15:34
"I had a revelation during last evening’s Eucharist. The preacher helped. I recognized that what Jesus was really saying to Peter when Peter made his protest about letting Jesus wash his feet was, “Ah, Peter, let me love you.”
This afternoon, I know that the meaning of Good Friday, too, is God’s incredible love for us. Incredible. Hard to believe. Hard to believe because, for any number of reasons, we find it difficult to accept love and simply say thank you. We’d prefer fair play – forgetting, perhaps, that if God were merely fair, we wouldn’t stand a chance.
God’s word to us today, as I hear it, is: Let God love you. Let God love you.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Two of the gospel writers, Matthew and Mark, say simply that Jesus said these words from the cross before he died. What they don’t say is whether the words on Jesus’ lips were an utterance of prayer or a cry of utter despair.
A prayer? Well, the words are the beginning of Psalm 22, which Jesus knew from the Jewish scriptures.
Despair? The psalm is filled with sounds of despair:
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
and are so far from my cry
and from the words of my distress?
O my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer;
by night as well, but I find no rest.
I am a worm and no man,
Scorned and despised by the people.
All who see me laugh me to scorn;
They curl their lips and wag their heads, saying,
“He trusted in the Lord, let him deliver him;
let him rescue him, if he delights in him.
And later in the psalm, the Contemporary English Version of the psalm reads:
You, God, have left me to die in the dirt.
Sounds to me from those verses like a cry of despair.
But take a look at how Psalm 22 reads over all. It’s one of many examples in the scriptures that one-verse proofing proves nothing.
Most of Psalm 22 moves quickly, two to three verses at a time, from cries of utter desperation to prayers of complete trust.
Here are a few of the verses I purposely skipped:
Yet (a crucial word, it seems, in the scriptures) …
Yet you are the Holy One,
enthroned upon the praises of Israel.
Our forefathers put their trust in you;
they trusted, and you delivered them.
They cried out to you and were delivered
they trusted in you and were not put to shame.
Then, a few more verses of despair ... after which we read:
Yet you are he who took me out of the womb,
and kept me safe upon my mother’s breast.
I have been entrusted to you ever since I was born,
you were my God when I was still in my mother’s womb.
Be not far from me, for trouble is near,
and there is none to help.
Utter despair or complete trust?
For me … both.
After all, Jesus was truly human.
I want to tell you something that, for most of my adult life, has been crucial to my relationship with Jesus.
Before doing so, however, let me say this: I can’t think of a time in my life that I did not believe in God in Jesus. I have always believed in … and I set my heart today on God in Jesus.
For most of my adult life, however, it has been crucial to my relationship with Jesus to think that Jesus lived his life without knowing how things were going to turn out … that he was not an actor who knew the ending of the script. I believe in the true man in Jesus. I set my heart on Jesus as true man.
Because Jesus was truly human, he had no more (and no less) reason to trust God than you and I do. He had the tradition. He had the scriptures. It seems he knew them well. He had friends. He had prayer.
Those who wrote the gospels (after the resurrection) knew then more than Jesus (when he walked his way of the cross) about how things would turn out. That is crucial for me. Otherwise, I would have to believe Jesus, when he suffered and died, was simply a good actor. And if I believed Jesus were an actor, I could not believe that he understands how I think, how I feel, how I can live through hills and valley of prayer and despair … how I struggle to understand myself.
Though I set my heart on both the man and the God in Jesus, though it is crucial to know in faith that the man on the cross was God, believing that Jesus did not know he was God has in crucial ways meant more to me than believing he was.
The man on the cross did not know he was God. But he trusted, in the face of evidence to the contrary, that God loved him, that God delighted in him. The God on the cross loved the man on the crorss – passing over with him through death to new life.
On this Good Friday, may we know God’s incredible love for us. Let God love you. Let God love you.
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
The Fifth Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Joel Atkinson
"I thirst." John 19:28
there are all kinds of thirst.
the thirst of one in an arid place
a place where lips
and skin are parched
a place where the tongue clings
to roof of one’s mouth
jesus considering what he’d been through
had to have felt deeply
this kind of physical thirst
those who offered vinegar
to quench his thirst
obviously thought so
“I THIRST!”
i believe his thirst was deeper
than this parching kind of thirst
perhaps he thirsted for all
his dying so young
would cause him to miss in life
no wife
no family
never the satisfaction of living to a ripe old age
surrounded by those he loved
jesus knew authorities
both national and roman
viewed him a dangerous man
possibly a revolutionary
a trouble maker
an upsetter of the apple cart
maybe even a terrorist threat
jesus had to have known
humiliation and execution
were in the realm of possibility
jesus cried in dread and fear of all the things
other mortals might make him bear
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
yet though existential dreads and losses were felt
i believe his deepest thirsty cry
was of another sort
“My God my God why have you forsaken me!”
maybe jesus in his anguished thirsty cry
sought assurance from god
his life had not been in vain
abandoned by pledgers of allegiance to his ministry
now suffering excruciating mental
physical and
spiritual pain
he must have ask
where’s the father he so loved
and ever sought to mind?
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
yet I believe there was even a deeper kind of thirst he felt
as his life lost focus
in the seeming denial of all his life had meant
in the anguish he personally felt
he cried forgiveness
in an incomprehensible leap of faith
‘cause from his lips issued hope
to another suffering
upon a neighboring bloody tool of death
“Today you will be with me in paradise.”
a cry of thirst for life
not just for that dying thief
but in that affirmation of hope
in the midst death
for that thief
himself
and all of us as well
what went wrong or is this the way it was supposed to be?
“I THIRST!”
one more thirst remains
he thirsted
for all who knew his life
for all who’d heard his words
for all who’d witnessed his deeds
for all who’d met him
for even those who knew him not
that they will come to know the loving Father he had known
that they would seek
to make real the love of God they’d felt
and that all God’s children
with that thief and himself
would finally and most fully
be enfolded into the eternal life of God.
The Sixth Word from the Cross
The Ven Richard I. Cluett
"When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit." John 19:30
He gave it up. He gave it over. The work of Jesus of Nazareth is done. All is finished, but nothing is lost. His spirit rests on you and me and the church.
There does come a time, doesn’t it when we need to say, “It’s over.” “Let it go.” “Give it up.” “Move on.” “It is finished.”
“On the seventh day God finished the work he had done, and on the seventh day he rested from all the work he had done.” Genesis 2:2
It’s time to put away childish things and grow up, childhood is finished. A marriage is begun, being priority number one is finished. The job is finished. A relationship ends, it is finished. Our abilities are impaired and it’s time to stop driving, it is finished. Eventually we will die, it will be finished.
Acknowledge the inevitable? Perhaps. Recognize reality? Perhaps. Admit to our finitude? Perhaps. For everything there is a season? Perhaps.
How do we do it, though? That is the question. How do we let it go? How do we give it up? How do we move on? How do we finish?
Do we rage and storm? Sturm and drang? Curse God and die? Or do we go gently into that good night, that future, that next stage?
All finishes contain the opportunity to trust – or not? Finishing school and going out into the work-a-day world. Finishing work and going into retirement? Finishing this life. All are opportunities for trust and for grace. Endings are part of all life.
It is because Jesus finished that we can end whatever needs ending safely, with trust and grace. Jesus has given us his spirit, and one another, and hope, and eternal life and, and, and, and...
It is safe to say, it is okay to say, “It is finished” when it is finished.
The Seventh Word from the Cross
The Rev. Canon Anne Kitch
"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Luke 23:46
I don’t know what it is like to die. I don’t know if there is that moment, when you are being killed, that you realize that you are going to die and that it is all going to end. I don’t know if there is a conscious moment when you can make one final act of will, one final choice to let go. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. The final action of Jesus on the cross, Jesus’ final choice, is to let go. But it is more than that. It is to give. His final act is to give himself, to offer himself, to place himself in God’s hands. Jesus dying act is to entrust himself to a loving father. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.
Into your hands. What are God’s hands like?
It’s elements were unremarkable: a basin, a pitcher of water, and a towel. As we celebrated Maundy Thursday here in this Cathedral last night, a father and child came forward for the ritual foot washing. The father sat in a wooden chapel chair as the child knelt at his feet. They were unobserved by most in the congregation who were singing a hymn at the time. The father placed his bare feet in the basin, the young child carefully poured warm water on them, then picked them up one by one and held them in her small hands. She gently washed each one, intent on her task. This was not a symbolic act for her. There was nothing perfunctory in her movements. Her hands held his feet fast. He gave himself over into her care. It was loving. It was safe. It was redeeming.
Into your hands I commend my spirit. These words on the lips of Jesus are quoted from a psalm (Psalm 31:5). What are God’s hands like?
God’s hands, which lovingly created the world:
In the beginning, O Lord, you laid the foundations of the earth and the heavens are the work of your hands (Psalm 102:25)
God’s hands, which faithfully reach for us:
The works of his hands are faithfulness and justice, all his commandments are sure (Psalm 111.7)
God’s hands, which never let go:
My soul clings to you, your right hand holds me fast (Psalm 63:8)
Into your hands, I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me, O Lord O God of truth, the psalmist prays. Into your hand I commend my spirit, Jesus prays.
Into your hands.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Maundy Thursday: Towel & Basin
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
April 13, 2006
Exodus 12:1-14a 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 John 13:1-15
How is this night different from all others? It is the night Jesus gathers with his disciples for the last time. It is the night he gives new meaning, eternal significance, to the meal they share. The bread and wine are what 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.
How is this night the same as the others? It is the same group of disciples that Jesus has been with for his entire journey toward Jerusalem. Along with the un-named women, they are Simon Peter, James son of Zebedee, John son of Zebedee, Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Thaddeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas Iscariot.
They are the same bickering, quarrelsome, contentious group of people they have always been. Apparently looming crisis and confrontation do not inform their behavior. They are arguing and debating many things, including questions of status (who will be number 1 in the absence of Jesus), clueless as to what is about to happen and about it’s meaning for them and for the world.
Into that familiar disputatious scene comes Jesus, who “having loved his own who were in the world loves them to the end.” (God alone knows why), Jesus comes with one last teaching, one last demonstration of the nature of God’s kingdom 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, 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, 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 us, to our world, and to our church. Of course, things are much different today. Not much self-righteousness, not much “my way or the highway”; not much division in the church, except for a little among the roman, and the orthodox, and the anglican, and the protestant denominations; a little between the evangelicals and the social gospel crowd; a little between the Episcopal Church USA and the conservative churches of the Anglican Communion, etc., etc. etc.
In the hopes that the message, the commandment to love and serve, will work a little deeper into our personal and communal awareness, we watch once again as “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 another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”
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 acceptance of 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 aliens.
They do not expect power to be patient in suffering. They do not expect power to be an offered love. They do not expect power to have to - or 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. God who loves, of¬fers and serves. It has been said "The crucified Jesus is the only accurate picture of God the world has ever seen."
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 basin and water to wash and refresh, as he says “you are welcome to the banquet that has been prepared for you from the foundation of the world.
What we have been given by his example of serving, what we have been given by his continuing offering of himself in the Eucharist, will help us. Because if God was in Jesus, we must come to terms with a God for whom it is natural to be humble, compassionate, serving, and at risk - for others. And take his nature upon ourselves.
And so as mark of our new nature I invite you to humble yourself to receive an act of love as some one bathes and refreshes your feet and to offer that act of love to another.
We will then go to the table to participate in the supper that unites us with Jesus and with all believers throughout eternity as share the bread and the cup.
I pray that thereby we will be empowered to bring his love and his servanthood to a suffering world and a divided church and to those who have not experienced his love or who do not yet know him.
April 13, 2006
Exodus 12:1-14a 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 John 13:1-15
How is this night different from all others? It is the night Jesus gathers with his disciples for the last time. It is the night he gives new meaning, eternal significance, to the meal they share. The bread and wine are what 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.
How is this night the same as the others? It is the same group of disciples that Jesus has been with for his entire journey toward Jerusalem. Along with the un-named women, they are Simon Peter, James son of Zebedee, John son of Zebedee, Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, James son of Alphaeus, Thaddeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas Iscariot.
They are the same bickering, quarrelsome, contentious group of people they have always been. Apparently looming crisis and confrontation do not inform their behavior. They are arguing and debating many things, including questions of status (who will be number 1 in the absence of Jesus), clueless as to what is about to happen and about it’s meaning for them and for the world.
Into that familiar disputatious scene comes Jesus, who “having loved his own who were in the world loves them to the end.” (God alone knows why), Jesus comes with one last teaching, one last demonstration of the nature of God’s kingdom 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, 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, 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 us, to our world, and to our church. Of course, things are much different today. Not much self-righteousness, not much “my way or the highway”; not much division in the church, except for a little among the roman, and the orthodox, and the anglican, and the protestant denominations; a little between the evangelicals and the social gospel crowd; a little between the Episcopal Church USA and the conservative churches of the Anglican Communion, etc., etc. etc.
In the hopes that the message, the commandment to love and serve, will work a little deeper into our personal and communal awareness, we watch once again as “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 another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”
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 acceptance of 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 aliens.
They do not expect power to be patient in suffering. They do not expect power to be an offered love. They do not expect power to have to - or 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. God who loves, of¬fers and serves. It has been said "The crucified Jesus is the only accurate picture of God the world has ever seen."
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 basin and water to wash and refresh, as he says “you are welcome to the banquet that has been prepared for you from the foundation of the world.
What we have been given by his example of serving, what we have been given by his continuing offering of himself in the Eucharist, will help us. Because if God was in Jesus, we must come to terms with a God for whom it is natural to be humble, compassionate, serving, and at risk - for others. And take his nature upon ourselves.
And so as mark of our new nature I invite you to humble yourself to receive an act of love as some one bathes and refreshes your feet and to offer that act of love to another.
We will then go to the table to participate in the supper that unites us with Jesus and with all believers throughout eternity as share the bread and the cup.
I pray that thereby we will be empowered to bring his love and his servanthood to a suffering world and a divided church and to those who have not experienced his love or who do not yet know him.
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