I Am Two-Years-Old

Spending time with my nephews makes me realize I am like a two-year-old. We all are!

Last year during the spring and summer, I spent some quality time with my twin nephews. At the time they were two-years-old. And even with marvelous parenting from my sister and brother-in-law and stupendous grand-parenting from their Bebe, they helped me to understand why people think the two’s are terrible. There were tears, tantrums, and running around like pair of super-destructive, superconductors that somehow feed off of each other’s energy. And while the experience reminded me that parenting is very difficult, the grandest inspiration that struck me came when I recognized that at my core I am two-years old.

No, I do not respond with the same mechanism. Of course, I do not get on the floor in my office and pound my fists and feet on the floor. I am not the type that whines and cries until I get what I want, but somewhere inside of me I see those two-year-old boys and in them I see me. My fiancée already recognizes this and sees it most notably when I am hangry (hungry+angry), so she will gently lead me towards food before I begin the irrational comments. In her sweet gesture I see that my nephews would probably not respond with their meltdowns if they knew another way, but that is indeed the way that they respond to a need within themselves.

I do not only act like I am two when I am hangry though. There are other moments when I am confronted with stresses that make me feel small or scared. If I am healthy (in body, mind, and spirit) they are no big deal. And yet, even if I am doing well some things are too big for me to confront. These are the moments when I get base. I respond in fear or anxiety. I push people away that love me, or worse yet, I run away from them.

Our Gospel reading for tonight does not reveal why Cleopas and the other disciple were heading from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They had been in that Holy City to witness the awful events of Good Friday. They stuck around over the Passover Festival. The women of their group had even told them that the tomb was empty, but some things are too difficult for us to understand or believe. I suspect that they were a little afraid that what had happened to Jesus could very well happen to them. So, they traveled from the Passover city and on the way they met a stranger.

The stranger did not know what had happened. The stranger walked with them. The stranger listened. That was until the stranger could stand it no more, so he opened the Scripture to them pointing to all those moments when the Messiah’s suffering and death were foretold. Onward the stranger would have gone were it not for Cleopas and the other disciple’s request to dine with them.

It was at this moment of breaking bread together that the scales fell from the disciples eyes and they saw Jesus as himself. They went running seven miles back to Jerusalem at night, so that they could share with the others that “HE IS RISEN!” Somewhere along the way though when the disciples were pumping oxygen and blood through their bodies they also remarked that their hearts had been burning when Jesus was with them.

In the moments when I am trending towards two-years-old, when I am fearful, when I run from my problems like those disciples were hiding from their fate earlier in the story it is these moments when I have the hardest time seeing. I would be just like those disciples. I would not be able to see Jesus walking right next to me. So sometimes, I believe this is where we are in our lives. We are too preoccupied with fear or doubt or rushing around or even doing things that seem like they are good or worthwhile, but all the while we miss that the God who came to dwell with us is dwelling right with us.

This would seem like a bad thing, that we miss God so easily, except that our God is always faithful, always sure, always loving. God, when we miss the presence of Christ right here with us, will come to us as that burning within our hearts. That feeling of pure joy, free gift, or complete love is God knocking at the door to our souls. There are times though when we will even miss that knock. It is at these times that in a strange set of circumstances when we might be with someone we have never met before that God will throw an altar into our lives, so that God can actually break bread with us. That is right. God will come into our lives through something strange and miraculous to get our attention, so that we might commune with him at a sacred meal just for a little while.

When we are confronted with the Risen Christ who comes to share that all things are made new again that even our turning and walking away are transformed into walking with God, we can respond in any number of ways; however, I think Cleopas and the other disciple were spot on. They went immediately and ran to tell others this Good News. And, when they arrived to tell them Jesus showed up there too! This is the joy of Easter. Even when we throw tantrums in our lives, even when we cry and run away, even when we attempt to escape, God has another way. God will burn in our hearts, God will make a table to dwell in sacred meal with us, God will show up to bring us peace. Alleluia, He is Risen!

Without

Today we are without...

I do not like to wait…
In grocery store lines,
On traffic filled highways,
At airport check-ins,
But, today we wait.

We wait with no cause
We wait all alone
We wait scared and numb
Our existence breaks
And we are without…

We are strings without guitar;
Song without singer;
Symphony without conductor.

We are theory without scientist;
Equation without mathematician;
Project without engineer.

We are students without teacher;
Classroom without professor;
School without principal.

We are an order without a soldier;
A badge without an officer;
An accident without an E.M.T.

We are illness without doctor;
Disease without therapist;
Cavity without dentist.

We are a play without an actor,
A painting without an artist,
A poem without a poet.

We are a field without a farmer
Sheep without the Shepherd
Branches without the Vine.

We are the body without the head;
The Church without the Christ;
The Universe without its Savior.

We are without…
Without purpose and,
Without direction;
Without feeling and
Without affection.

Today we’re without,
And so we must wait,
Wait with a semblance,
A sliver of hope.
Wait outside the tomb.

“Does Washing Feet Even Mean What It Once Did?”

Our feet are not dirty like the disciples' feet, so do they need to be washed?

Morgan Freeman asked one of the most appropriate questions for Maundy Thursday when he played the character Red in Shawshank Redemption, “Seriously, how often do you really look at a man’s shoes?” Except, I would amend the line to say, “Seriously, how often do you really think about feet?” Feet are the Rodney Dangerfield of body parts. They get no respect. None. Before tonight when was the last time you even thought about your feet?

Perhaps someone here got a pedicure in preparation for tonight’s foot washing and laughed when the manicurist scraped, polished, and massaged. Yes, if you have recently been to the beach you might have remembered that you have feet as your toes buried their way into the sand. If you are like me you have thought of your feet recently because you developed a blister while out on a run. However, by and large, we pay our feet no mind.

One might argue, “I love and respect my feet, as they are like the tires on a car without them I can go nowhere,” but this would only be true if we wrapped our tires in layers to disguise their very existence. Feet are not what they were in Jesus’ day. We hardly ever see one another’s feet anymore. So, our very understanding of foot washing has gotten complicated. Back then, the most elaborate footwear around were sandals, so everyone saw each other’s feet, but now we lay them beneath layers of leather and lycra hoping that they never see the light of day. We may not intentionally be ashamed of our feet, but even accidentally our actions point to a hiding away of a member of the whole.

Is there a part of our bodies that does more for us and about which we are more guarded? Everyone appreciates the eyes, they help us to see, to read, and to view this world. Without the nose and mouth we would have no taste and life would unpalatable. Hands help us to hold, to reach out, and to serve the world around us. And yet, our feet carry us to and fro all the while hidden away. Protected yes, but hidden nonetheless. Even in our homes I bet most of us wear house-shoes or slippers. But exposing feet and going a step farther by washing feet was not back in Jesus’ day and is not in our own day only about a oft’ forgotten part of our body.

Have you ever noticed in the midst of a fight with a spouse or a close friend that the two of you are not actually fighting about what you are yelling at each other? “Well, you never put the dishes away!” “How come you don’t like my mother?!” “You never put the toilet seat down!” has nothing to do with dishes or mothers-in-law or toilet seats. By putting those dishes away, by putting up with a mother-in-law, and by putting the seat down we show each other respect, reverence, and even love. Jesus kneeling down to wash his disciple’s feet was not an empty offering, it was not because he was worried about their feet being dirty either. No, it was a final teaching during a final meal. Jesus attached to his great commandment—Love one another as I have loved you—the action of being a servant and washing his disciples’ dirty, grimy, and disgusting feet.

In the other gospel accounts the Words of Institution that are so familiar take center stage at the Last Supper. We heard those words in Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians tonight: “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me,” and “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me” (1 Cor. 11:24-25). We hear these words so often that they have soaked into our souls. We weekly reach out our hands and mouth to accept the Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven and the Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation. We believe that these are sacramental elements: outward and visible signs and sure and certain means of inward and spiritual grace! But we very rarely think about feet, and washing them, in this same way.

Today, in this part of the world, feet do not carry the same stigma as they did in Jesus’ day. They are not covered in the filth of the streets like they were, instead we keep our feet hidden. We wear extravagant shoes and fancy socks and our feet do their job balancing and moving us without saying a word. But, tonight is not about feet, just like arguments are not about the dishes, mothers-in-law, or the toilet seat. Feet are those things in our lives that we hide away. Feet are those parts of us that we cover up with multiple layers hoping that they do not see the light of day. They may propel us through life, but we keep them hidden from those whom we meet, maybe even those we love. But, Christ says no more. I want to wash your feet.

What are the feet in your own life? What are the things that you keep hidden from the light of day? What part of your life are you keeping secret that God not only wants to cleanse, but also by washing that will show you what true love is?

Who are the feet in your own life? Who are those people that you have been hiding or from whom you have been hiding? Who are those people that you long to wash and to serve, so that you might offer the cleansing love that Christ offers us tonight?

Back in Jesus’ day feet were the grimy body part that was in severe need of cleaning. Now in our day of modern hygiene and pedicures feet are no longer dirty, instead they are hidden away. The meaning of washing our feet has changed, and yet it is still the same. It is still about kneeling down to serve friend, family, or neighbor, but now it is also about God cleansing even that part of us that we are afraid to show to the rest of the world. Christ says: Love one another, serve one another, and wash each other’s feet.

The Trouble with Being Troubled

Getting off the sidelines can get us into trouble, but isn't that precisely what God did in Jesus?

Being troubled troubles me. Being agitated agitates me. Being distressed distresses me. I like things to be calm. I can count on one hand the times I was “in trouble.” Most of those happened before I was even in high school. Being called to the principal’s office, getting an earful from a parent, or being stopped by a police officer are the stuff of my nightmares, along with spiders and snakes. Except this feeling from being troubled does not just stop with me. Call it a defect in those who are empathetic, but when I observe others vexed it vexes me too. “No man is an island,” as John Donne so poetically put it means that I do not ask on whom anxiety preys, for I know it preys on me too. So, when I observe Our Lord Jesus “troubled in spirit” I too am troubled. This cannot be happening, I say to myself.

John, the Gospel writer, began his account with a profoundly beautiful and awe-inspiring hymn that picks up the theme set out in the very first words of Hebrew Scripture: “In the beginning” except where we expect to find “God created,”(Genesis 1:1) instead we find, “was the Word” (John 1:1). In the beginning was the Word. We may recall that John told us that through the Word all things were made. Without the Word not one thing came into being. This Word it turns out, came to dwell among us, as a man named Jesus, the Son of God. All of this is most certainly familiar to us who have had those opening lines of John’s Gospel wash over us time and time again. Yet, what is so striking in holding that hymn up against today’s passage is that the same Word that created all things, this very same Word made flesh was troubled.

The Word through whom all things were made being troubled feels impossible to believe. Isn’t God supposed to be all powerful? If a god walks into this earth is he not able to call lighting down from heaven to strike his enemies? Are we not still taught to believe that God will crush all who oppose Him? This is still the prevailing belief about God. And yet, Jesus shows us something different. The Word made flesh that dwelt among us did not just don human skin as though God were in costume. No, Jesus became fully human, warts and all, emotions and all, being troubled and all.

Perhaps the reason I have such an aversion to trouble has to do with not liking being held in suspense, at least not when it is something very personal to me. Yes, I love watching a close football game as long as it is not my team. Sure, I love watching a political drama unfold as long as it is a TV Show and not in real life. But this week we are called off of the sidelines, off of our couches, and out of our homes into the drama and into the trouble.

“Jesus was troubled in spirit,” continues to strike to my core. That the God through whom all things were made would be troubled by his upcoming suffering, his forthcoming Passion, and his impending death indicates that we have a God that came not just to pretend like he was a human, he came to be fully human and still fully God. Our God chose to get into the mess of life, even to get into the trouble of life.

When we feel as though our lives are full of chaos, when we look around and see terrorist attacks, racial violence, political rioting, sexual abuse, economic inequality, and oppression of all kinds we might feel as though our God is like a watchmaker who set this whole thing spinning and chooses to remain back at the clock shop, but that is just not true. Christ Jesus clearly showed that God’s work gets God into trouble, not just long ago, but right here and right now. As we walk with Jesus into the troubling days of the Triduum, we know that God walks with us in all the troubles of our lives.

No One Talks About Dried Fish

Dried fish usually are not the topic of sermons, but they are today.

Dried fish. No one ever talks about dried fish. Sure, throughout the Bible there are dozens of mentions of fishing. Jesus even recruits his first disciples using the analogy of angling to lure them to follow him (yes, pun intended). However, we do not hear about dried fish. I bet you’ve never even heard a sermon mention dried fish. Perhaps that is because the fragrance of perfumed nard covers up any stench of smoked fish, but as we walk with Jesus into the home of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary in Bethany, I want to tell you about dried fish.

Before I can tell you about the fish though, we have to do a little math. This is not my strong suit, so forgive me if I miscalculate, but to talk about the fish we have to do the math and we have to talk about some money. When our Gospel story for today took place the way that people were paid for their deeds was a silver denarius. This was not a completely silver coin. It was probably 80%, which would not have been acceptable in Temple sacrifice, no they needed the more pure 94% silver pieces minted in Tyre. This is beside the point, and I am getting away from the money, and the math, and the fish. A denarius, regardless of its silver content, was the standard wage for a day’s work. A week’s work equaled 6 denarii, remember to keep the Sabbath holy. A month’s work equated to about 26 denarii. A year’s salary (with a little vacation thrown in there) would be right around 300 denarii. If you put 300 denarii, or a year’s salary into today’s standards that is $30,000 (plus or minus a little bit). Now what does this have to do with dried fish? We’re getting there.

$30,000 is an eye popping amount of money. Maybe not to Bill Gates, but to me that is a lot of money. Even more, that is a ton of money to spend on one item. Maybe not if we are talking about a car, or a year of college (yeah, that's what it costs at some schools), or remodeling a kitchen, but what about something for a dead man? When we hone in on the audacity of Mary Magdalene busting open a $30,000 bottle of essential oil used for burial, it is quite shocking! Of course, Judas got upset. $30,000 was the total of our Outreach Grants last year at St. John’s. What if I decided I wanted to go out and get some essential oils for one person’s funeral instead? I have a feeling I would get more than a slap on the wrist for that costly “mistake.” Fortunately my Google searches for $30,000 essential oils came up with surprisingly few options, although I could make my own perfume fragrance for about that much money. So what does the smell of extravagant nard have to do with dried fish? We’re there now.

Even though this ideal family of believers (Lazarus, Martha, and Mary) were residing in Bethany, most put Mary attribute her home town as Magdala. The research on this town is a little confusing, as there were probably two towns with the same name (like Decatur, AL and Decatur, IL), but scholars point out that the main export in Mary’s hometown was you guessed it dried fish. The people of Magdala were known around the entire region for their ability to smoke and ship fish. This is as though Mary was running her day’s version of the Omaha Steaks company. However, this does not take away from the over generous gift that she so lovingly poured out upon Jesus’ feet. No, it all the more highlights our need, regardless of our status or income level to offer up not just part of us, but all of us to God especially during Holy Week.

Seeing the overgenerous offer that Mary extends to Jesus in Bethany serves as a call to us on this Monday of Holy Week. Yes, it is clever and ironic that a woman who made her living by smoking fish gave to Jesus the sweetest smelling gift. Even more than this moment being humorous though, this show of servanthood shines as a foretaste of John’s story of the “Last Supper.” Jesus will follow in Mary’s path of kneeling down to wash his disciples’ feet, just as Mary washed and whipped his feet with oil and hair. In this holiest of weeks our lives and Jesus’ life are to be so entangled that Christ’s story and our stories become one. To paraphrase from the Rite I Eucharistic Prayer: God, make us one body with Christ that he may dwell in us, and we in him (BCP 336). So now you have heard a sermon about dried fish (and costly nard), but this day and this week are not about one smell covering another, but rather God weaving our stories into the story of Christ. Won’t you get tangled up in God’s Story this Holy Week?

You Can Handle The Truth (With God’s Help)

Jack Nicholson as Col. Jessup in A Few Good Men

Even if you have never seen A Few Good Men I am certain you know one scene from that movie. Lt. Kaffee (Tom Cruise) interrogates Col. Jessup played by Jack Nicholson about a command the Col. ordered. When Kaffee presses Jessup the Col. delivers one of the most famous lines in cinematic history: “You can’t handle the truth!” You can’t handle the truth!

The line might not seem all that significant to us, but somehow it transcends the scene and even the movie, such that most of us have heard it. I believe these words stand out to us because in our own lives we struggle to handle the Truth too! The Truth cannot be bought, corrupted, or swayed it simply is, and so often we have a difficult time allowing it to be in our lives.

Maybe it is that relationship that is not what it used to be. Spouse and spouse, or parents and children, or friend and friend might both know the Truth that things are not how they were, but confronting and accepting the Truth is too tough, so things just keep going how they have been. Perhaps the difficult Truth is that your health is not how you would like it to be, but actually allowing that to set in is too difficult. Everyone complains about work or traffic, but confronting the Truth of that discomfort is another story. It might even be that you do not like the way you connect with God, but you can’t handle the Truth. You are not alone though, I believe we all struggle to handle the Truth.

Growing up I was for the most part an exemplary kid and this was no exception out at camp. As a camper, leader, and staff member I stood out as a paragon for how to act and to be. And yet, one summer as a supervising staff member I thought I was above all those rules I had followed for so long and with some friends I snuck some beer out to camp. Now when we got caught, because of course we got caught, the directors did a lot of hand wringing and finger pointing, but there was hardly a slap on the wrist in terms of punishment. Still something happened that startled me, as it confronted me with the Truth.

A day after this incident, I went to the camp office and there was the camp’s most steadfast matriarch, a woman about my grandmother’s age, with the dignity of the queen, and the faithfulness of a saint. She asked me if I intended to let everyone know that I had been a part of this violation of the rules, to own up to the truth. I stood there scared and silent. As her eyes met mine, she confronted me with the Truth, “A man is only as good as his word.” I knew the truth, she knew the truth, and now we both knew that each other knew the Truth. Could I handle the Truth?

Jesus assures us in today’s gospel lesson that the Truth will set us free, but how difficult it is for us to actually allow the Truth to permeate our lives. We believe we can hide in the shack of sin, separation, and isolation, but Jesus bids us come home to the household of God. For the Jews who have begun following Jesus and confused this invitation to freedom as a slight towards their Father Abraham and for us who so often hide in the shadow of sin what Jesus tells all is the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth.

The Truth, as one Biblical scholar put it, was that Jesus was not victim, nor was he victimizer. Throughout Jesus’ Passion, he did not fall into saying, “Whoa, is me!” nor did he come back for cosmic revenge once it was all over. Rather he showed this path where he let who he was, what he taught, and how he lived speak the Truth. We are about to enter into Holy Week when Jesus will hold up a mirror of Truth for all humanity. He reveals to us all our flaws, imperfections, and corruptions that make us humans. In holding up this mirror he also shows us his Truth.

On the night before Jesus died, he not only ate with his followers, but he also served his friends by washing their feet. He then taught them one last time. In the midst of this he invited them to follow him where he was going. Thomas, the curious one, said but we don’t know where you are going and asked how can we follow you? Jesus replied saying, “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life.” I am, meaning both Jesus and that Great I AM, is the one path, the unmistakable Truth, and the ultimate reality!

Despite what Jack Nicholson said in A Few Good Men, we can handle the Truth, but only with God’s help. As we walk ever closer to Jerusalem where we will see Christ’s Passion, Crucifixion, and Death we are called to follow and we are called to allow the mirror of Christ to reveal our Truth. We are sinful, we are broken, and we are nothing without God, but to walk with Jesus allows us to see the other side of this Truth. Christ who dwells in us all leads us out of the house of sin and into the Household of God! You can handle the Truth, for Jesus tells us, “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life.”