Saint Alban: Inspiring Martyrdom

St. Alban reminds us that Faith is not a trend.

Although I have only lived for 31 years on this beautiful ball we call earth, I have observed many fads in those 3.1 decades: the Atkins Diet, Beanie Babies, baggy pants, boy bands, gluten free diets, Livestrong bracelets, the Macarena, and selfies just to name a few. Really there are so many fads that websites exist solely dedicated to making sure we remember how ridiculous all of us are for jumping on whatever novel thing is trending. Nowhere on any of those websites can be found the fad of martyrdom; however, in the early 200s Saint Alban seemed to inspire just such a trend.

For some time in Christian history scholars believed that Alban lived in the late 200s and died around 303 or 304; however current Church studies show that he lived a whole century earlier, and died inspiring others to follow Christ to the point of death. Alban did not begin his life as a Christian. Instead, he grew up pagan and served the Roman Empire as a soldier. In the time of his life Britain was under the ruling arm of Rome. Alban, stationed at Verulamium—about twenty miles north of London—one day encountered a fleeing priest, which was the event that changed Alban’s life.

Alban met the runaway priest and had a choice to make. Would Alban turn the Christian into Roman authorities certainly sealing the priest’s fate or would Alban respond compassionately? In conversations with the priest Alban was converted to following Christ Jesus. Alban’s faith was immediately tested, as Roman authorities came looking for the priest. When Alban discovered that his fellow soldiers were looking for the priest, the neophyte convert to the Faith dressed in clerical attire.

The authorities took Alban to be tortured and in the process he revealed that he was not the priest, but a Roman soldier who had turned to follow Jesus after hearing the Good News of Jesus. Even in the face of death Alban never renounced his belief in Jesus. Thus, he was to be beheaded. However, the initial executioner upon hearing Alban’s story of conversion would not kill the man and even converted to Christianity on the spot. The actual priest got wind of the bravery of Alban and came to clear up the misunderstanding; however Alban, the would-be-executioner, and the priest all were eventually beheaded. Alban was thus the first martyr of Britain, but was quickly followed by the two others.

The life and witness of Alban should give us pause to hold fast to those things that are good and enduring in a world of fads. He was bold enough not to turn on his new Faith even though he was immediately put under immense stress to recant. During the makeshift trial a judge kept insisting on knowing about Alban’s family, but he simple replied, “My parents named me Alban and I worship and adore the living and true God, who created all things.” Our reading from Matthew reminds us that Faith might call us into situations where we must deny even our family and our national identity to follow Jesus. This is easier said than done, but through the iconic lens of Alban’s witness we see what Christ calls each and every one of us to do.

There are many things in this life that are passing fads, but Faith in the living and true God who created all things lasts forever. We might look at Alban’s life and think, “I can’t do that;” however, the Spirit of Christ strengthens each one of us to take up that same call of martyrdom. In our world that probably does not mean an actual, physical death, but rather killing a part of us that associates more closely with selfish ambition, radical patriotism, or even family name over following Jesus. To follow Jesus will never be a fad, but Faith in the living and true God requires daily dying to those parts of us that beg us to do anything other than living our life in Christ!

Finding Your Place

On a balmy morning in early June of 2012 near Richmond, Virginia I met a strange woman. She stuck out her hand to greet me, but instead of saying her name she said, "Hello. I'm a foot. What are you?" We were at Roslyn Center, a beautiful place of retreat, at a preaching program for seminarians from across the Episcopal Church, and this loon just so happened to be in my group. At first, her presence was off putting. Who wants to develop new methods of sharing God's Good News with someone who introduces herself as a foot? However, the theme for the event was Preaching Paul, and she had immersed herself in the image of the Body of Christ. Then, oddly enough by the end of the week our entire small group was claiming our individual identities as parts that work together in Christ's living Body.

Sometimes I still wonder, what is my place? What member of the body am I? Am I something important like a hand, or am I something superfluous like an appendix? Could I be something grand like an eye, or am I just an eyelash? Nose, or nose hair? One of the most difficult things any of us ever attempt to do is to find our place within this world. Almost everyone wonders where he fits into the human family. And, every Christian at some point in her life journey wants to know what members she constitutes within the Body of Christ; however, if it is such a crucial and universal task to find one's place in the body how is it possible that so many people continue to wonder, "Where's my place?" Saint Paul's image of the body still gives us an individual and a collective hope of fitting into something bigger, but how do we do this? Perhaps, right now is the perfect time to continue your exploration of how it is that you personally live as part of the whole.

Every part of our year at St. John's provides a different rhythm. Fall gives order with new offerings fitting into the routine of the school year (and football season). Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany provide crescendo like build up to God's Incarnation. Lent provides for greater discipleship in preparation for the joys of Easter. Then, as the school year ends we celebrate the accomplishments of those making transitions. After all of this summer can feel like a "throw away" season when the members are spread out across not just the state but the globe. We may feel that we are not on the same page, which means this is the perfect period to develop your own spirituality. "But how?" you say. I am so happy you asked.

Pick up a book. May I recommend Jabbok by Bishop Kee Sloan? Evan's Monday morning class will begin covering that on July 25th. Come to the Sunday morning articles class. If you have ever wondered how your Faith intersects with culture and society, this class in which we discuss current news topics through the lens of our discipleship can provide clarity. Go on a retreat. St. Mary's Sewanee offers fantastic times of restoration and discernment just an hour and a half from Decatur. If you are interested in another way of seeing how you fit into the Body of Christ try the Enneagram Conference up at Camp Kanuga in October. St. John's is also planning a parents retreat to Gulf Shores this fall, so retreat opportunities abound. Try praying differently. Have you always read the Forward Day-By-Day, but you do not like the style of the current contributors? Read Morning Prayer instead or Richard Rohr's daily meditations. Serve and give. Still not sure how you fit into the Body of Christ? Try a new volunteering opportunity at the CCC clothing closet, stop by PACT to see if they need some help at their front desk, or pack a bag of non-perishable food items that you can offer to someone who is in need. Give financially to the work of God in this world by contributing to a ministry that is meeting a cause close to your heart. Ways to find your place are as numerous as members in the body!

Although I still wonder which part I am in the Body of Christ something tells me that I will always be pondering my place. As much as the ambiguity unsettles me, this not knowing gives me and us an opportunity. In each stage of life God gifts us the challenge of wondering again who we are, what our gifts are, and what our place in this world is. In response we get to trust in God and have faith, just as God is Faithful. Trying some new discipline this summer allows us to wonder in this season and beyond about who we are. As you make new discoveries in your discernment share these insights with me and with others for the eye cannot say to the ear I do not need you, and individual discernment enhances our collective ministry. Saint Paul still reminds us that we are One Body for we all partake in the one bread and we all are made to share the same cup. As you find your place in this body do not be afraid to share who you are, even if you may be a foot!

Be Healed OR Ask Jesus To Go?

What's hidden at the back of the fridge that is your life?

The Tupperware sits within my refrigerator hidden by the spinach, filtered water, and package of chicken. I forget what is in it for at least a little while. Was it the pulled pork I cooked in the crock pot or the leftover sautéed squash that I put in the plastic container? A few days pass. Then, a few more days. I still don’t open up the Tupperware. I kind of know that it’s there, but for some reason I do not acknowledge its existence. The smell of rotting food, the guilt of wasting resources, and the other demands on my day keep me from prying open the container. I finally get a moment one evening and discover it was leftover sweet potato fries. I really would have enjoyed eating those again I think too bad I did not want to look inside. If you are anything like me and you do not like dealing with stuff hidden away in a cold dark place, then you know more about demon-possession than you ever knew.

There was a man in the land of the Geresenes who was possessed by demons. Enough demons that the evil spirits called themselves “Legion,” like the giant Roman formation of troops. The demonic force recognized Jesus, and what happened next is painful to all of the bacon-lovers among us. The demons drove the pigs down a steep bank and into a lake where they drowned.

The swineherds told the rest of the town, the town members came to find Jesus, and imagine that they grabbed pitch forks, torches, and machetes to form a viciously angry mob. This group of peo-ple was going to confront this man who had broken up their barbeque and plunged their pork into a pool. The text never says that the Geresenes got freaked out by the man possessed by demons, even when he went running stark naked through the graveyard. (Can you imagine a burial with a streak-er?) However, when the Gersenes saw that the man formerly possessed by demons was in his right mind, they were afraid.

They were not scared of a man chained up by the tombs, unafraid of a man possessed by demons, but when this man came into his right mind they were filled with fear. This makes absolutely no sense. And, what happened next is shocking! The Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave. First they get freaked out by a formerly demon-possessed man who was healed, then they realize the potential of Jesus, and so they wanted nothing to do with it. WHY?! Why on earth would these people want Je-sus to leave? It has everything to do with Tupperware, well Tupperware and God.

Anything we hide away or forget about without dealing with it can end up rotting, producing guilt, and hit us at a time when we feel like we just do not have time to deal with it. It could be a skeleton in the closet, a small moment where we traumatized that we just have not dealt with yet, or that re-lationship that just feels off, but we are too afraid to say anything about it. The Gerasenes saw Jesus offering to get rid of the old Tupperware (or demons), but they were too used to the way things were, they were too accustomed to the crazy man being crazy to actually allow Jesus to stay.

They did not want to go through the difficult work of healing. They would have rather just let eve-rything stay the exact same. They wanted their bacon. They were okay with the crazy person being crazy. We do this too. And not just with the Tupperware. We do this with relationships, with our own problems, with complexes, old traumas and with communal issues. God worked through Christ Jesus then, and God still works through Christ now to bring healing, but it is not easy.

If God brings this healing and it actually works, then it means that God is real and not in our imag-ination. If this healing happens, then it means that we might actually have to give up something we really like to see more healing take place. If this healing takes place, then God is the one that is in control and not us, and yes, the Geresenes were right to be scared, for this is scary! God being in control can produce fear in us, as we are not just making up God and we are not making up what is happening, but instead we are living into the reality of God, the kingdom of God, the dream of God. The question is would we rather have the nightmare that is our world as the Geresenes saw it and as it still is today, or would we rather live into God’s dream for this world?

Often it seems we would rather just keep the status quo instead of finding a way to dream with God. We would rather allow people on FBI watch lists have access to purchasing guns than create a safer world. We would rather keep silent than stand up for those who are struggling to have equal rights because of their race, gender, religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation. We would rather Jesus leave than guide us through the hard work of healing, the pulling open of old Tupperware, and the casting out of demons.

In an age of too much violence are we willing to listen to the ancient dream heard in Micah and Isaiah to beat our swords into plowshares? In an era of exclusion are we able to break down the walls built in obtaining a false sense of security, so that we might live as one body? In a time of stink and rotting will we allow Jesus into our lives, so that we may do the difficult, but life-changing work of reconciliation? Or will we be like the Gerasenes and ask Jesus to go?

Healing is hard. It’s much more difficult than pulling out old Tupperware from the fridge. God’s work is reconciliation though, and if we live freely in God’s grace our response will lead us to being more like Jesus who sought healing and restoration for all. To be healed is as great a transformation as one man going from a demon-possessed streaker to being a fully clothed, sane follower of Jesus. What will you do? Be healed or ask Jesus to go!

Evelyn Underhill: Follow Jesus Personally and Corporately

Today we remember the mystic in disguise Evelyn Underhill

When you read the word "mystic" what is the first thing that pops into your head? Someone convulsing in a trance? A monk or a nun fasting and enraptured in a vision of the Almighty? Perhaps it is something even more bizarre? Raise your hand--yes, you at your computer screen, raise your hand--if when you heard the word “mystic” you thought of someone who enjoys yachting, gardening, bookbinding, and travel? That’s what I thought, you definitely did not think of that type of person! Common conceptions of mysticism often lead us to thinking of people that are slightly off, monastics who have been long fasting, individuals rubbing magic crystals, or other people on the fringe of society; however, in the early 20th Century Evelyn Underhill helped many mainstream people in the Church of England to discover that mysticism is an experience of the Divine meant for everyone!

Underhill, on the surface, appeared to be just a normal single child. The daughter of a barrister (lawyer) who was sent off to school to study languages, botany, philosophy, history, but certainly not theology. Her family may have baptized her, as was the almost universal custom in those days, but they did not bring her up in religion. From the age of 16 though Underhill developed one of her greatest talents, writing. For twenty years this gift led Underhill to writing articles and short pieces, but at the age of 36 she blossomed into a spiritual giant with the publication of Mysticism.

At the time mysticism was misunderstood, in much the same way it is now. Underhill through meticulous research and many trips to continental Europe cobbled together 133 different mystic writers throughout various ages to give people a more realistic glimpse of this spiritual experience. In this book, one of her two masterpieces, Underhill laid out four components to demystify mysticism.

First, the practice of mysticism is not voodoo, it’s not even theological, instead it is practical. It is an intense spiritual experience that leads not just to speculation, but to action. Next, mystic practice aims not to solve some problem, but it is instead a spiritual activity unto itself. Third, the way to do mysticism is to love, not like an emotional rollercoaster expression of sentiment, but rather a dedicated, committed love of a doting spouse. Finally, mysticism involves the entire self: heart, mind, body, and spirit; conscious and unconscious. For many people these four defining characteristics shifted how they viewed mysticism. Instead of it being something for a few, it became a practice of the many.

On some small level Evelyn Underhill bringing mysticism to 20th Century England was a big transition away from the past and towards something that we still experience to this day. Even though the Protestant Reformation had begun about 400 years before her life, Underhill shifted some prevailing spiritual practices of the Middle Ages. Most notably, people believed that certain spiritual experiences were meant only for those who lived in a monastery. Underhill continued what other spiritual reformers had begun, she made it possible for the common lay person to understand that their own household could experience something previously confined to a spiritual community. She exemplified that every household is in itself like a microcosmic church or intentional community.

Evelyn Underhill brought the spiritual practice of living mystically into focus for so many Christians in England. And yet, that is not all that she did. She also spent much of the second half of her life connecting contemplative practice to a contemplative life of action. A contemplative practice like centering prayer, silent meditation, or Lectio Divina helps individuals to come in contact with the ever present Spirit of God. Still Underhill’s example showed that life cannot be confined simply to spiritual practice, but it necessarily leads us to an active life in Christ.

One of Underhill’s closest friends and her spiritual director, Baron Friedrich von Hugel challenged her to move from what was most comfortable to her into a space where she might meet Jesus. For Underhill this meant that instead of just staying in the theoretical she was challenged to spend a couple of days each week working in the slums of London. This practical spiritual practice and time spent in community with a local parish led to her second great work Worship. This book focused not on the individual spiritual journey developed in mysticism, but the life-giving spiritual life that overflows from a church’s week-to-week worship and life together.

Underhill inspired so many in both of these works, in her appearance as the first female lecturer at Oxford University, as retreat leader (even to all male clergy retreats), in weekly radio addresses, and in the way that she lived her life. It is through someone like Evelyn Underhill that we remember Jesus’ example of both individual and communal spiritual practices and how they lead us into a deeper realization that God’s presence pervades all things, all people, and all places. Let us follow her example and live both personally and corporately as followers of Jesus devoting our lives to a greater connection with Christ who dwells within, among, and beyond us. Amen.

The Church of the Future

IT’S SUMMERTIME!!! Okay, so summer technically is not here until June 21st, it already feels in full swing with camp sessions, beach trips, and warmer temperatures. In the life of our church, this season always deceives me. I continue to think that as the rhythm of the school year slows down, I can take a deep breath and float through the summer months. Surprisingly though, the life of St. John’s Church does not go into hibernation during these hot months, but instead not only do we continue our normal pattern of worship, we also catch a glimpse of the Church of the future at work.

Have you ever noticed that people in the Church love to worry about the future of the Church? I have yet to go to a clergy gathering without someone mentioning how to get younger people in the pews. When I scour trendy priest-blogs—yes, these exist—so many of them point to dire Pew Research Center results about how many members the Church has lost recently, and then mention how we might avoid our doomed fate to disintegrate into nonexistence. Even in our own parish hall, sacristy, and library we worry over what will become of the Church of the future. And yet, if we only focus upon the future, attracting a certain subset of people, and keeping our numbers up, we are being the Church (the Living Body of Christ) all wrong.

During my first clergy conference—when the clergy people of the Diocese of Alabama gather for renewal, fun, and a little bit of worrying—I was participating in some serious fellowship exercises playing poker with Bishop Kee and some wise clergy. In the midst of this light-hearted moment, Kee subtly used this opportunity to teach those gathered a lesson, and not just one about playing cards. He asked me how I was enjoying being a young priest. I gave him a polished response fit for a seminary textbook. Instead of telling me that I did not need to put on airs for him, the Bishop while dealing out the cards told me a story.

When Kee was a young priest in the Diocese of Mississippi he loved and revered his bishop, and the more-experienced clergy of that era. The Episcopal Church in Mississippi and its diocesan camp had been the place where Kee was loved into that person who was called to serve as a priest in the Church. And while he respected the stalwarts of the Faith that had guided him, he also knew that they were human beings. They made mistakes, just like the generation before them. They struggled with change, just like the generations before them. They had great triumphs, just like the generation before them.

At the end of saying all this Kee leaned over to me and said, “I am getting to a time when I am part of that older generation, and when I was your age, I always wished that my elders had invited me into building the Church that was to come. This is your invitation to keep building the Church. And, if I ever get in the way of God’s work being done just pull on my arm and tell me to get out of the way.” I was speechless. I don’t remember saying anything else the rest of the night, even when I was the big winner taking $12 off the old priests and the bishop—a considerable amount of money given the buy-in. What I learned in that moment is that if the bishop is willing to be told to get out of the way, I must be willing to do that too.

Last week, I spent time with our youth on the EYC Work Week. Next week, St. John’s will be transformed into the land of Egypt as we put on our Vacation Bible School. In addition to these local moments of the Church of the future already being here, young people from all over our diocese will be a part of Camp McDowell, Foothills Day Camp, Sawyerville Day Camp, Special Session, Young People Paint Birmingham, and so much more this summer. I do not anticipate a time when I will need to pull the Bishop aside to tell him that he is in the way of God’s work being done; however, I do think we would all be wise to see that the Church of the future is actually the Church of right now!

Our other bishop, Bishop Santosh, when he visited with us on Sunday morning, described the beauty of the Church in how we take care of one another. We constantly reach across generations in this Church. Each cohort has something to contribute, but to be the fullest, richest, and healthiest Body we can be we must make room for all generations right now, not just down the line when they have proven themselves. There is no Church of the future, it will always be the Church right now, so how will we right now welcome all generations to God’s Table in God’s Church?

No longer

The events of early Sunday morning in Orlando continue to upset me. Terrifying stories of club-goers texting their parents, as they feared for their lives, or running from Pulse not knowing if they would ever see their friends again seem so surreal. And yet, this is the reality of 2016 America. In this same reality people post messages on Social Media saying they knew this type of religiously motivated terrorism would happen, and even posts congratulating Omar Mateen because he killed LGBTQ people. How do I respond to this sickening, disgusting reality? 

At first, I just want to scream at it! To rage against it, or maybe even to speak to the violence in some manner that it could understand. Except I once heard noted Northern Irish theologian Peter Rollins speak about violence. He said that to respond with the force of violence is to end conversation, to stop dialogue from continuing. Screaming, raging, and using force cannot be my response, for it cancels furthering relationship even with those filled with hate.

My next instinct takes me to thinking on those and praying for those who were killed, injured, or scarred in some other way by Sunday morning’s events. While prayer is a deeply personal practice, I have seen some criticize both the shallowness and the hypocrisy of offering thoughts and prayers for those in Orlando. I think I understand the anger from these comments. Those who offer up hollow prayers or write that they are praying just so others will pay them attention frustrate me too. And, confusing is someone who condemns LGBTQ people in one breath and offers prayers up for them the next. Prayer though is not something that I do for others to see, instead it is something done behind closed doors between God and me. 

A prayerfully lived existence though leads beyond closed doors and into some place of action. The place that I end up this morning is remembering what Paul wrote to the Church of Galatia, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). These words are critical as to how I follow Christ Jesus. I am given a mandate to no longer view people through their outward appearance, their religious identity, their gender identification, their legal status, their sexual preference, or any other distinguishing characteristic that I or the world around me fixates upon in a given moment. Instead, I am called to see through the lens of Christ who welcomed the poor, the weak, the naked, the hungry, the stranger, the outcast, and any who was considered sinful or different by the prevailing culture. Through this lens reality looks different.

Jesus envisioned a different reality, an Ultimate Reality that caused the ridiculous cultural reality to cower and crumble. In the Ultimate Reality the vulnerable overthrow the fearful status quo, weapons are beaten into tools of creation, everyone has enough, respect abounds, and love exists in such abundance that it is hard not to see it everyone I look. The trouble in moments like right now is to remember that Jesus already initiated this Reality. It already exists! Prayer, solitude, a contemplative lifestyle, service, Divine Liturgy, and so much more in the Life of Christ all point to remembering this reality. This remembering is how I am called to exist. Remembering this is not easy and I feel the tension and the clashing between God’s dream and what is happening in this world. So, I will keep praying and remembering, but as I remember I will no longer...

Be silent when others express bigotry of any kind...

Condone such lethal weapons being so readily available to people who are known to be dangerous...

See people through the ridiculous reality of hatred, fear, culture, but instead view others through the lens of Christ.

We can no longer live in this ridiculous reality, may we remember God's Ultimate Reality of respect for all, protecting the weak, and loving everyone!

Shame and Guilt: A Lesson of A Sinful Woman

Brené Brown makes a very important distinction between shame and guilt in her second TED talk. Guilt is feeling bad for doing something wrong. For example, I really messed up that math test. Shame, on the other hand, is feeling bad for being someone wrong. I am messed up and a bad person because I didn’t do well on that math test. In this coming Sunday’s gospel story we learn what freedom from that latter looks like in real life.

In the Luke 7:36-8:3 story a Pharisee invites Jesus to dinner. In the midst of the dinner a woman in the city “who was a sinner” found out that Jesus was dining at this home, so she went out of her way to go and get a costly jar of ointment, and came to the Pharisee’s home. This woman wept and wept and wept, so much so that she could wipe Jesus’ dirty feet with the tearful solution. She kissed Jesus’ feet, and even broke open the oil to care for them. We never discover precisely why she felt the need to do this, but we can look around at the clues in this story to find out more.

The narrator in the story never lists the woman’s name and uses the straightforward descriptor, “who was a sinner.” To me this points out that she was not someone who felt she had done something wrong, but her entire identity was wrapped up in this term. Her name was sinner. At least her name used to be sinner.

Something had obviously happened between Jesus and this woman, or maybe she wanted some holy transaction to occur. The Pharisee was still focused on the old identity of shame that he had established for this woman, but Jesus was much more interested in what was happening in that moment. Whatever she had done in the past was gone. In the place of that entity of sinfulness the woman had put on a new being of service.

I believe this means that this display of kindness and service was a step in a new direction for this courageous woman. She no longer wanted to be the sinful woman, she knew through following Jesus the true reality that lies within all of us. We are made good in our creation, we are restored to goodness in our salvation through Christ, and we are perpetually remade into goodness through the power of the Spirit. It’s easy to forget this. It’s even easy to think that when we make a mistake it’s because we are bad, stupid, ignorant, unworthy, cursed, etc. This isn’t the truth.

We all make mistakes. When we do we may see them as misguided actions or we may choose to believe that these mistakes are part of our identity as sinners. Through Jesus we see that Christ’s redemptive works make us no longer shameful sinners, but redeemed children of God who may make mistakes, but always have a God who serves us through forgiving us. How will we serve in response to God’s love like this woman did?

As We Forgive Those Who Sin Against Us…

Seth and James rocking out at ACL Fest 2011 (You'd never know that these two love theological discourse)

Yesterday I wrote this post about this coming Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 7:36-8:3), and my friend James Mason (who is in an awesome band called The Roosevelts, you should definitely check them out and buy their music) left a couple of comments on FaceBook that got me thinking. First, he wrote, “At first I struggled with your sentiment that ‘greater sin leads to greater love.’ But that's because I have never read that particular gospel. When Jesus says, ‘Whoever has been forgiven little loves little’... That forces a HUGE ideology shift in the mindset of most Christian thinking.” Then he added, “I love thinking of receiving forgiveness as a prerequisite before you can give Love. It roots Love as a byproduct of self-awareness rather than a byproduct of hoping that other people like you.” During my morning run today these two thoughts coalesced and mingled together, and I wrestled with a more succinct way to articulate this idea of God’s forgiveness opening us up to love. Then, it hit me.

During my freshman year of undergraduate studies at Sewanee I applied to be a sacristan (along with James and some other stellar individuals). Eight of us in this class of sacristans essentially took on another elective class to prepare for the work of tending to All Saints’ Chapel. I learned a lot in those classes (like that the thing that keeps your hand from getting hot wax on it when processing with candles is called a bobeche), but one of the most interesting things I learned was that almost any time Episcopalians pray using our common prayer book we say the Lord’s Prayer. This makes sense, right? The disciples said, “Teach us to pray,” Jesus responded with what is now a familiar prayer, and now anytime we pray we too repeat those words. The trouble with saying that pray over and over again is that we can forget what we are saying.

“Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us,” Jesus said. Right after he spoke of asking God to give us our daily bread Jesus taught his disciples a lesson on forgiveness. If reconciliation comes immediately after sustenance think how important this must be for living life in Christ, life in the Kingdom of God. Forgiveness is like the oxygen that keeps the body of love living and breathing! The strange thing though is that this line in the Lord’s Prayer is still somewhat mystical to us two thousand years later. We still struggle to understand exactly what it means. Here are some options:

1. Are we forgiving others’ sins so that God will forgive us? This sentiment does not adhere to the nature of God. God might sometimes appear vindictive to us, but I believe, and Christian Tradition maintains, that God is a merciful God, forgiving to the thousandth generation even.

2. Are we forgiving others’ sins at the same time God forgives us? I think this might be a misunderstanding of grammar and theology. God exists outside of time, so this would not really make sense either.

3. Are we forgiving others as we have been forgiven ourselves? YES! At least I think so. This fits with the nature of a merciful, loving, and forgiving God.

God’s forgiveness is a prerequisite for us loving. And while I love self-awareness (although it ought to come with a warning label) and agree that once we recognize how much God has forgiven us it is only natural to extend that type of grace to others, I want to make one thing very clear: we do not and cannot do anything to deserve, destroy, or alter God’s love for and God's forgiveness of us! Yes, our forgiving others is an extension of God’s forgiveness, but even if we never get close to becoming aware of God’s overwhelming love for us God’s love will never change for us. It is everlasting.

I am so grateful for James, for his friendship, and for his thought-provoking comments. Love is not hoping that someone will like us, rather love extends from God. We begin our life in this love knowing that we are created, redeemed, and sustained by the Almighty Divine One who wants nothing more than for us to know this truth and to share this Good News with all whom we meet. Be aware that God forgives and also be aware that if we are not aware that God forgives God still forgives!

Fortune Favors the Bold

This Sunday’s Collect reads:
Keep, O Lord, your household the Church in your steadfast faith and love that through your grace we may proclaim your truth with boldness, and minister your justice with compassion; for the sake of our Savior Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen (Book of Common Prayer, 230).

Several characteristics strike me when reading through this collect. First, this prayer begins slightly unusually with a plea to God to allow us in the state of faith and love. Could this be our natural state if we are asking God to keep us in this place? Second, the reason we would like to be steadfast in faith and love is that we would like, through God’s grace, to proclaim God’s truth with boldness and to minister God’s justice with compassion. This is almost always the case with Prayer Book collects, we ask God for one of God’s qualities that we might be more Godly! Finally, what truly hits home about this collect is that it fits so well with our Gospel lesson for Sunday (Luke 7:36-8:3).

Most notably linking with the Gospel the line “minister your justice with compassion” reminds me of how Jesus explains God’s merciful, grace-filled forgiveness. When the Pharisee and the sinful woman lay their sins out next to one another to the human eye it seems as though the woman beats the religious man by a mile in a competition of iniquities. And yet, as a couple of my friends were want to say in college (and beyond), “Fortune favors the bold.” Or, to borrow a line from Martin Luther, “Sin boldly.”

It seems a bit strange to advocate sinning, but I am not as much advocating living in a distorted relationship with God or neighbor as much as I am pointing to the great (and difficult) truth of God’s love: our sins do not matter. As tough as it is for us to understand or comprehend this, God loves the jaywalker as much as God loves the murderer. God loves the overdue library member as much as God loves the two-timing cheater. God does not see us through a lens of sin, but instead God views us through the love of Christ.

When we sin we obscure how we see God, but it does nothing to how God sees us. Should we then attempt to get in as much sin as possible? I find that twisting my relationship with self, others, and God takes more than it gives, but when we sin and even when we sin boldly we know that greater sin only means greater love (as we see from the woman’s story in the Gospel lesson). Martin Luther, of course, wrote more than just “Sin boldly.” He finished that thought by writing, “but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly.” We start in a state of faith and love, when we mess up God love us enough to see us as he sees Christ, so when we sin boldly believe and rejoice in Christ just as boldly, for fortune favors the bold.

Wait, Did Jesus Say That To Peter?

This coming Sunday’s gospel text (Luke 7:36-8:3) is one of my favorite not-so-well-known texts from the Good News of Christ Jesus. I love it because it has this strange encounter between “a woman in the city, who was a sinner,” a dinner party hosting Pharisee, Jesus, and poor ol’ Peter. Jesus called him Simon, but I cannot help but think of what my colleague Jeff Evans likes to say after speaking Peter’s name, “Bless his heart.” Peter was plopped into the middle of some conflict that had nothing to do with him, but why?

Let’s take a look at what happened in the story. A generous, or at least showy, Pharisee decided to throw a dinner. He invited Jesus. Somehow in the midst of the evening’s events a woman from the city, a known sinner, more than likely a prostitute, snuck into the party and started washing Jesus’ feet with tears, hair, and ointment. The Pharisee, not so pleased with the uninvited guest, thought some snarky comment in his head. All he did was think something. Then, strangely Jesus turned not to him, but to Peter to tell a story.

Jesus told Peter a tale about two debtors, one with a greater debt than the other. He asked his disciple if both were forgiven by their creditor which one would love the forgiving person more. Peter responded the one who had the greater debt. We can easily draw the comparison of the bigger debtor being the woman of the city. Also, we can think that the Pharisee was forgiven less; however what seems strange in this story is that Jesus did not tell the story to either the Pharisee or the woman. “Wait, did Jesus say that to Peter?” we might question. Then, Jesus takes it a step further.

Jesus turned toward the woman but again spoke to Peter. He told Peter that since he had entered his house Peter had not given him any accommodations, no water for Jesus’ feet, no kiss of peace, and no oil for his head. This woman; however, had not stopped welcoming Jesus. She washed his feet, she kept kissing him, and she spread oil upon him. While most of this is true, there is one huge mistake. This is not Peter’s home! So why did Jesus say this to him?

Sometimes in life we are not ready to hear the truth. Peter was serving a divine purpose. He could listen and respond to Jesus’ inquiry and (hopefully) not be offended by the teaching moment. Peter could hear the truth in the place of those who were not ready to hear. The Pharisee was not ready to hear this difficult (for him) message that God’s love cancels out all debts, so Jesus spoke to Peter instead. Additionally, Jesus did not speak to the woman, perhaps because he did not want to take her from this moment of service. Even though the Pharisee was an expert on the Law and what God had spoken to God’s people, he was not an experienced practitioner of forgiving and being forgiven. The woman on the other hand was intimate with not only sinfulness, but God’s grace, forgiveness, and unconditional love.

What lesson are we being taught indirectly by God? Who is God speaking about us, but right next to us? How might Jesus be teaching us of the healing power of forgiveness through our neighbors?

Justin: A Martyr Seeking the Truth

Today, June 1, the Church celebrates the Christian martyr and apologist Justin.

Every once in a while a moment will emerge allowing us to take stock in life. These can be transitional events like a graduation, a marriage, a birth, a move, a new job, a retirement, a change in health, or a death. In thirty days, precisely one month from now, I will get married. And even now I feel myself taking a step back to gain some perspective.

In these reflective moments, I find that we mostly discover that life moved as we anticipated with each step happening in a predictable manner. OKAY, JUST KIDDING! This hardly ever happens. Life does not move in easily foreseeable ways. As the old saying goes, “If you want to hear God laugh, tell God your plans.” We may lull ourselves into a false understanding that we know what today will look like because it is a Wednesday, and all Wednesdays are the same because they all have this thing that happens and that part of my routine and whatever it is that we think makes Wednesday different from Tuesday and Thursday. Sure on the surface this seems apparent, but truthfully it is not the case for Wednesdays, or for Junes, or for entire years. For we are not re-living other parts of life, in fact, there has never been this moment, this day, this week, this month, or this year, so how can it be like anything else?

Life actually moves in unpredictable ways to us humans. We may believe that we chose something, but so often events happen to us, and so we these occurred by happenstance. Later on these seemingly random events though may become the very things that drive us into who we are today, what we are doing today, or the people with whom we share life. I do not subscribe to a belief in coincidence. Strangely in the midst of chaos, God weaves this sort of tapestry that is our collective life together. We cannot always tell what the pattern is until much later in life. This was the case with the second century Christian martyr Justin.

Justin began his life as a Greek-speaking pagan who grew up in the middle of Israel near Shechem. Within him lay this intellectual thirst that drove Justin to seek greater understanding, so he was educated in various Greek philosophies. First, he learned in the school of the Cynics. Then, he moved on to studies in Pythagorean thought. Finally, Justin found wisdom in Platonism. This movement through Greek philosophies only gave him a deeper desire for the Truth.

One day when Justin was walking on a beach in Ephesus, he happened upon a stranger. This old man told him of Jesus fulfilling all the prophets of the Old Testament. This coupled with the impression that Christian Martyrs made on Justin lit a flame within this seeker’s heart. All the bouncing around from one philosophy to another had not been random, but had put Justin into a precise moment when God spoke to him through this man on the beach of Ephesus.

Justin went on to start a school of Christian philosophy beginning in Ephesus, then moving to Rome. In this school Justin did not discount the traditions that had brought him to his acceptance of Christ Jesus as the Ultimate Truth. Instead he wrote that Platonism especially can serve as a teacher that will lead us to know Christ. Justin’s three surviving works give to us today a knowledge of Christian practices of his time, as well as an understanding of the development of Christian philosophy during the second century.

During a public debate in Rome Justin accused a Cynic philosopher named Crescens of being both oblivious and unethical. Instead of fighting back in the debate Crescens took up a legal case against Justin, which led to the arrest of not only Justin, but also six of his students. The Roman prefect gave the Christians an opportunity to deny their Faith in Jesus, but they did not and were subsequently put to death around June 1, 167.

The witness of Justin serves us well today. We may look at the events of our lives as random. We can even allow ourselves to believe that we are somehow in control of the things that happen around us and to us. However, in hindsight we clearly see through the lens of Faith that God weaves together the diverse strands of our lives into the larger pattern that is Ultimate Truth. Justin sought the Truth and articulated that it is present not exclusively within the Judeo-Christian Tradition. Christ’s life, death, and Resurrection extend to all parts of Creation such that Truth is not solely possessed in one place, one people, or one period. Instead, the healing, uniting, and loving works of God in Christ Jesus sent shock waves of Truth throughout all time and space.

Take a moment to take stock, to reflect, and to look back. How has the Truth been woven into your story? What has propelled your life to this very moment? In what ways have diverse threads been tied together to reveal the pattern that is life in Christ?