Showing posts with label Philippians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philippians. Show all posts

Sunday, April 13, 2025

Love Lays Everything Aside

 

This week, Love lays everything else aside, will we do the same?


The Liturgy of the Palms

Luke 19:28-40

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

The Liturgy of the Word

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Philippians 2:5-11

Luke 22:14-23:56

or Luke 23:1-49

Psalm 31:9-16

 

©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was preached on Palm Sunday at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL.  A video of the sermon may be found here.

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.

Today, Palm Sunday, is a rollercoaster of a day. We begin with shouts of Hosanna—palm branches waving, children smiling, we are giving parade vibes, for sure! And we end in silence, with Jesus taken down from the cross. Joy and devastation in the same hour. Triumph and tragedy, held together.

With such a wide array of the human experience, perhaps what this Sunday most invites is not understanding, but presence—a willingness to stay with Jesus, even as the story devolves into tragedy.

When the disciples first followed Jesus into Jerusalem, they were hopeful. The crowd was energized. Jesus looked like the kind of leader they had been praying for. But not long after, things got confusing. Jesus washed their feet instead of raising a sword. He offered his body and blood instead of battle plans. He knelt in a garden and wept.

And slowly, one by one, his friends disappeared. One betrayed him. Another denied him. Most simply vanished into the shadows.

The story of this week—this Holy Week—isn’t just the story of what Jesus did for us. It’s also the story of how easily we leave when love starts to cost us something.

But here’s the good news: Jesus doesn’t abandon us, even when we abandon him.

In Philippians, we’re told to “let the same mind be in us that was in Christ Jesus.” That’s not just a call to think like Jesus—it’s a call to live like him. To take on the posture of humility. To empty ourselves. To make room for others. To choose love over pride, vulnerability over power, presence over comfort.

It’s not an easy way. But it’s the way of Christ.

So, as we begin this holiest of weeks, I offer you this invitation:

Don’t rush ahead to Easter. Stay with the story.
Stay when the crowd turns angry.
Stay when the silence grows heavy.
Stay when your heart breaks.
Because it’s in the staying that resurrection takes root.

Let this week shape you—not just as a memory of what happened long ago, but as a living call to walk the way of love. Because this world still needs the peace that rides in on a donkey. This world still needs people who choose mercy over vengeance, courage over fear, presence over escape.

So stay with Jesus. And, let God’s story unfold in you.

Amen.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

The Model Shepherd: An Ordination Sermon

Corey Jones (left) the newest (for now) presbyter in the Episcopal Diocese of Alabama.

The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father” (John 10:13-14, New Revised Standard Version).

Apophatic Theology has been around for a long time. Whether its roots stem back to the Cistercians of the 11th Century, to the Neo-Platonists of the 3rd Century, or to the origins of philosophy itself is widely contested. Of course, you know this Corey. You graduated from the School of Theology at the University of the South. What scholars do not debate is the usefulness of this way of taking about God. See, apophatic theology stands out as the practice of speaking not in positive statements about God—like God is good—but instead saying only those things we are certain do not pertain to the perfectness of God. Our own Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has championed an apophatic slogan lately: “If it ain’t about love, it ain’t about God.”[1]

Well, Corey on this day when God’s one holy catholic and apostolic Church will ordain you as presbyter—a shepherd of the flock—it feels oddly appropriate to start in an apophatic way. Much of our friendship finds its basis in apophatic humor—finding reverence in the irreverent, the sacred in the profane—so, why not begin not with the paragon of priestly perfection, but with the inverse? Why not commence not with the Good Shepherd, but with the bad shepherd?

To this end and drawing upon the great modern day prophet David Letterman, formerly of the Late Show, here are the Top 10 Ways to be a Bad Shepherd:

10. Starting every vestry meeting with 30 minutes of silent meditation.
9. Saying to a grieving family at a funeral planning meeting, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do the funeral at that time because my fantasy football team is playing then.”
8. Teaching an Augustine of Hippo Christian Education class entitled, “My Confessions: The True Life Tales of Corey Jones Before He Met Jesus”
7. Forgetting your microphone is on when you find your way to the facility and say to yourself out loud that your church musicians should “not quit their day jobs.”
6. Instead of using the BCP, siding with a bridezilla‘s desire to write her own vows, which include a line about how her husband will spend every Monday night watching ABC’s the Bachelor with her.
5. Wearing a purple clerical shirt around your home and making your family refer to you as the bishop of Narnia.
4. Doing anything to upset the Episcopal mafia a.k.a. your altar guild. Remember: they run the Church. (Forget about it!)
3. Waking up at 3 o’clock in the morning to wage theological warfare with your parishioners using the 140 characters of Twitter.
2. Starting and ending your sermons with the catch all prayer, “Roll Tide!”
1. The number one way to become a bad shepherd is… well, hold on a minute!

As funny as some of these are, there is a sad kernel of truth that runs through each of them. Hidden in the background of the 10th Chapter of John’s Gospel account about the Good Shepherd are some words from the prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel and Jesus were concerned not only with describing God as the Good Shepherd, but also with the apophatic practice of pointing out the bad shepherds too. As Ezekiel put it, shepherds who had “not strengthened the weak...healed the sick...bound up the injured...brought back the strayed...sought the lost, but with force and harshness [had] ruled them” (34:4). Bad shepherds—sadly enough—are not characters confined to ancient history. Painfully, we know examples that are not humorous, but heart-wrenching. We can think of church leaders who have been bad shepherds—teachers who have caused us pain, priests who have violated our trust, and pastors who have scattered the flock. We may wonder why this happens.

The Quaker thinker and author Parker Palmer, in his great little book Let Your Life Speak, borrows a line from the Sufi mystic Rumi that surgically cuts to a deep and painful truth—a truth that gets at answering this question of why. “If you are here unfaithfully with us, you’re causing terrible damage.” Palmer adds on, “If we are unfaithful to [our] true self we will extract a price from others. We will make promises we cannot keep, build houses from flimsy stuff, conjure dreams that devolve into nightmares, and other people will suffer—if we are unfaithful to our true self.”[2] This is the apophatic description of the Good Shepherd.

Here’s how we might say it along more positive: The Good Shepherd gives to others. The Good Shepherd keeps promises. The Good Shepherd builds houses that last. The Good Shepherd conjures dreams that grow. The Good Shepherd takes away suffering. The Good Shepherd is faithful. Corey, what you are called to do among this congregation, in this diocese, and in the Church is to be not the bad shepherd, not the hireling, but it’s also not up to you to be the Good Shepherd. We are getting closer to the number one way to be a bad shepherd.

Because I do not get to preach in front of this fine congregation including my fellow priests and the bishop too often I did more sermon prep than I usually do—and that is never a good thing—but I found something odd. The Greek word that we so casually throw around as good, doesn’t mean good—at least not how we commonly use it. Good has as its opposite bad. The original word here (kalos) though means model or example.[3] The model, the example shepherd. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, as in the model shepherd, the one we are to follow.

Corey, Jesus has called you to follow him in a very particular way. It’s rather like being a shepherd—not that I have actually herded any sheep myself, only cats.[4] Jesus has called you to get to know your people, to provide nourishment for them, and even to lay down your life for them, like the model shepherd does for his sheep. This last bit is scary though, especially with a family. Laying down one’s life is not something that commonly appears in a job description from a church. And while the Ordination Rites are right next to the Burial Rites in our Book of Common Prayer—a rather peculiar placement if you ask me—the type of martyrdom you are called into is a living one that requires you to choose the life of a priest and dying to self on a daily basis.

In just a moment, our Bishop will illuminate the particular tasks of this life as a priest. You are to…
·        Shape your life around the Good News of Christ Jesus
·        Love and serve those with whom you work regardless of age or wealth or race or anything else
·        Preach God’s Good News
·        Declare God’s Forgiveness to penitent sinners
·        Pronounce God’s blessing
·        Share in the Sacraments of Holy Baptism and the Mysteries of Christ’s Body and Blood
·        And that beautiful catch all: perform the other ministries entrusted to you
(Book of Common Prayer, 531).

Corey, I believe whole-heartedly that you have every gift you need to do each and every one of these things, but there’s one more bit to this whole priesthood thing that needs to be mentioned.
The number one thing that makes a good priest into a bad shepherd is thinking that you are the Good Shepherd. You aren’t the Good Shepherd. You aren’t called to be the Good Shepherd. None of us are. But, to help clarify this whole Good Shepherd thing let us consult the classic film Home Alone.

Now, you may recall that Kevin McAllister—played by the exquisite Macaulay Culkin—gets left at home alone by his family. Kevin survives pretty well for a couple of days, but soon wants nothing more than to be surrounded by his family again. So on Christmas Eve, Kevin finds a mall Santa who is smoking a cigarette with his fake beard halfway off his face, and he says, “I know you’re not the real Santa…but I also know you work for him.” Likewise Corey, you aren’t the Good Shepherd, but we know that you work for the guy. And good news, so does everyone else here.

Lionel Mitchell—the Liturgical Theologian not to be confused with Lionel Messi the soccer Phenom—makes clear that this occasion is not the coronation of a new presbyter in the Church, instead this Ordination is the celebration of our ministry together as the Body of Christ.[5] Our Prayer Book states, “[ordination] is a gift from God for the nurture of [God’s] people and the proclamation of [Good News] everywhere.” (BCP 510). Not only do we witness a person making some huge promises and the bishop and some priests laying their hands on him or her, but we also experience this action of the Body of Christ, so that the good news of God’s love may be shared with the world—a world that desperately needs good news right now! Your family, your sending congregation, the commission on ministry, the Standing Committee, the Bishop, your seminary, and the entire Church share in this moment. All orders of ministry—the priesthood of all believers and deacons and priests and a bishop—rejoice and point to the ministry of a new shepherd AND the ministry of the Good Shepherd, our model shepherd.

Corey, you will never do ministry in a vacuum—that is Worth’s job because he’s in Hoover. Sorry. I couldn’t help it. I actually have a whole lot of vacuum jokes, but the rest of them suck. Okay, I needed to make sure y'all were still with me, but I digress. None of us actually do ministry in a vacuum.

We are all part of the ministry of the Good Shepherd, which means all of us are called to follow the example of the model shepherd Jesus. All of us are called to strengthen the weak, heal the sick, bind up the injured, bring back the strayed, and seek the lost. All of us are called to give to others, keep promises we make, build houses that last, conjure dreams that grow, take away suffering, and remain faithful. All of us are called to follow our model shepherd.

Beloveds, this means that though we be people with unclean lips we say to God, “here am I, send me!” This means that we seek whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise. This means that we protect the vulnerable lambs, feed the hungry sheep, and go in search of any lost member of the flock. In a world that is so filled with bad news Jesus calls us to participate in this Good News with every one that we meet.

Of course, sometimes advanced theology doesn’t make sense to me, so maybe a final analogy will be helpful. Corey, we’ve worked in camp settings together on occasion. I think you know the game “Sharks and Minnows.” A single shark starts as the person who is “it,” but once a minnow is tagged she turns into a shark that tries to tag the rest of the minnows. Well, for the purposes of today let’s change it to Shepherds and Sheep. All of us wander like lost sheep without the Good Shepherd, but once the love of the Good Shepherd hits us we are called not to hoard it away—no we are called to share it by going in search with the Good Shepherd for other sheep who will become shepherds too. Corey, you have been so loved by God. Now, you are called to share that love with all whom you meet through the specific ministries of being a shepherd in God’s Church. 

Corey, will you please stand? I charge you to remember that you are not the Good Shepherd, but that you work for the guy. I charge you to trust that God loves you, has called you, and has given you every gift you need to succeed. And, I charge you not to hide this love or your talents away, but to share them through the ministry that we all share with the Model Shepherd.

Now, as this thing is not just about you, will all followers of Jesus please stand? I charge all of you to remember that you are not the Good Shepherd either, but that you too are called to take part in God’s ministry. I charge you all to support this newest presbyter in God’s Church. And, I charge you to receive God’s love and then to share it with all whom you meet. For if it ain’t about love, it ain’t about God.

Amen.




[1] Sidebotham, Jay. Renewal Works. November 21, 2016. http://renewalworks.org/2016/11/monday-matters-november-21-2016/ (accessed November 30, 2017).

[2] Palmer, Parker J. Let Your Life Speak. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2000, 31.

[3]Henrich, Sarah S. "John 10:11-18: Exegetical Perspective." In Feasting on the Word, by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, 449-453. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008.

[4] See: Cranmer Meme: “I retained the title of priest for ordained Anglican ministers because cat herder though more appropriate didn’t seem to have sufficient dignity.”
[5]Mitchell, Lionel L. Praying Shapes Believing. New York: Morehouse Publishing, 1985, 252-53.

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Even Death on a Cross

The portion of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, which we read today, offers for us a profound challenge: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” How are we—mere mortals—supposed to have the same mind as Jesus the Christ had?

As I think more about having the mind of Christ the task becomes exponentially more difficult. To me it seems easier to think of the ways that would be ineffective at having the same mind as Christ. How might we not be like Christ? Well, we can rule out committing the deadly sins and breaking the Ten Commandments, but then we get into some trickier territory. Thinking good thoughts always seems like a good idea, but then not acting on our good intentions is part of the pavement on the way to hell. What may be even worse though is believing that it is up to us to act our way into being like Christ.

For us to be like Christ we cannot simply think our way into this state, nor can we act our way into having the mind of Christ. In actuality, we may be overthinking all of this. The first word in this reading is let, as in let it happen because the Spirit is already at work. Is that it? Are we just passive blobs like amoeba sitting on a log? I do not think so, I believe we do have a part to play. The way for God’s Spirit to transform not only our minds but also the rest of our innermost and outermost comes in a most countercultural way: death.

Last night I saw a documentary about the band the Avett Brothers. They are a great folk/songwriter band from North Carolina who create music that has depth and soul uncommon for our age. I commend your listening to their albums. At one point one of the members of the Avett Brothers made an offhand comment about how everyone thinks their songs are morbid because simply put they are not afraid to talk about or rather sing about death. Apparently writing about loss and death, instead of wild nights and finding love in this day and age invites criticism.

No one really likes talking about death, but somehow at least from my perspective, some death is easier to think about than others. A well-lived life of eighty, ninety, or a hundred years often does not bear the same sadness as a life cut far short. The end of a struggle with a debilitating disease feels easier for us to bear than seeing someone pass tragically in the blink of an eye. How much more would the death of a beloved friend or family member strike us? How much more would the death of a beloved leader shake us? How much more would we be transformed by the death of not just a leader, teacher, or friend, but the death of God who came to save us by being with us?

These beautiful words from Paul’s letter do not simply invite us into living like Christ, they invite us into dying like him. Christ who became incarnate in Jesus did not regard his godly nature as something to be exploited rather, he emptied himself and was born as a lowly human being—a human being acquainted with poverty, oppression, and suffering. This life though was not the end of the story, it was only the beginning—or rather the continuation of what God has always been doing. We may not like to speak about it, but on this day—Holy Cross Day—we are drawn into this moment when Jesus not only endured death, but even death on a cross. So why is this so important and what does it have to do with letting Christ’s mind be in us?

For us to let our entire lives be transformed by Christ, for us to let the same mind be in us as was in Christ Jesus we are called to our own crosses and to our own deaths—not just literal crosses and deaths, but every form that these sufferings take. Now, as the Avett Brothers remind us no one likes talking about death—especially death on a cross. As strange as it sounds though, seeking our own crosses is a prerequisite for living as a Christian. Yes, God will always love us, but living as a follower of Christ does not mean that we point to Jesus’ death and keep on going the same as we always have. Nor can we call ourselves Christians if merely think that all our screw-ups are covered in some cosmic insurance policy. That is not life in Christ—that is not letting the same mind be in us as was in Christ Jesus.

Christ Jesus came to show us that the ways that had always been no longer worked. That sacrificial violence does not work anymore. Even though they crucified God Incarnate, God still lived. We cannot scapegoat the problems out of our lives, like previous generations tried to do. We cannot avoid the problems of our lives, like we may be prone to do. Nor, can we otherwise try to weasel our way out of our own issues. Instead, we are required to do the hard work and heavy lifting of picking up our own crosses. This means turning inside and seeing what it is that needs to die so that God may resurrect it. This means inviting God to be in us. This means that through us God can turn violence, disaster, famine, and all other suffering in this world into a source of God’s healing redemption. For us to have the same mind as Christ we must start by seeking out our own crosses, lifting them up, and walking with Jesus not away from hardship, but towards it!



x