Flip It

Jesus has only be ascended for six days, we have not even left the season of Easter, and already our attention shifts from the Paschal Season of the Resurrection to the waiting and watching of the Nativity cycle. I almost feel like the Church resides as some great sea being tugged at by two different moons: Incarnation one moment, Resurrection the next, birth one moment, death/rebirth the next. So, even on this day at the tail end of the Easter season, we look to the pregnancy of Mary and the visitation she made to her cousin Elizabeth; today we celebrate the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Like any well-worn—or better said well-heard—story we may not notice the strange particularities. Rather, we comfortably float over the odd details focusing instead on the overarching beauty of pregnant cousins visiting and Mary singing a song of God’s Kingdom not unlike Hannah’s in 1 Samuel. Today though, the relationship between these cousins has captivated me. Their unfolding connection—both obvious in the text and hidden between the lines—points to the striking truth that the Blessed Virgin Mary carried in her womb the One whom God sent to save the Universe by flipping it on its head.

Before we even get to this story, let us back up a chapter or two in Luke’s telling of the Good News. Previously in the story an angel visited Elizabeth’s husband Zechariah, he doubted the messenger, and the angel struck him dumb until the birth of their child. Elizabeth’s pregnancy links so intimately with Mary’s own conception that Luke uses the former’s gestation timeline as a marker for when Gabriel came to tell Mary the surprisingly good news. “In the sixth month” is a reference to Elizabeth’s pregnancy. Luke thus intimately intertwines the two holy women and their holy offspring, but this only begins to point out their association.

Next, within the astonishing announcement from Gabriel when Mary felt perplexed by the angel’s words what seemingly convinced her to say, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord: let it be with me according to your word,” had everything to do with Elizabeth’s pregnancy. Elizabeth and Zechariah had not been able to conceive previously, but through God’s transforming power they did. Mary found out of this news through a divine messenger, and seemingly as soon as Gabriel left, she quickly departed too, as she went to deepen her connection with Elizabeth.

We find ourselves now at the beginning of today’s Gospel lesson, when Mary set out to visit Elizabeth. The two women lived about seventy miles away from one another, and having earlier this year traveled with a pregnant woman in her first trimester Mary’s voyage stands out as extremely difficult. Moreover, in those days unmarried women did not travel alone in public, but seemingly the strong-willed Mary did! Without too much effort we can easily observe God flipping the male-dominated culture on its head with Mary, the bearer of the Mighty One traveling alone for several days—unaccompanied by a male family member. Go Mary! Go God! Once Mary reached her destination, the cousins’ connection provided another opportunity for God’s power to reroute worldly authority.

Elizabeth’s and Mary’s interaction exemplifies how God’s Kingdom works. Like I stated at the beginning this story sounds so familiar that we may overlook some critical details, including how the cousins say hello to one another. From the perspective of the world Elizabeth holds all the power. Elizabeth was the wife of a priest, an elder relative of Mary, and a woman six-months pregnant, which beats a lowly, unwed, teenage woman with child any day of the week; however, that does not match the story. Although Mary very kindly greets her elder cousin, a sign of admiration, Elizabeth’s response points to her mutual respect of Mary.

When Mary greeted Elizabeth the unborn baby John the Baptist leapt in his mother’s womb and the Holy Spirit filled the elder cousin. Elizabeth thus cried out, “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb” signifying Mary’s stature. Elizabeth could not even believe that Mary had come to see her cousin, “And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” What great respect these two women showed to one another. The greetings conclude with Elizabeth blessing Mary as she recalls the fulfillment of what Gabriel spoke to her.

We may wonder, “What might we learn or celebrate from this interaction?”

Mary and Elizabeth do not allow differences in power, age, or distance to dictate the respect that they bestow upon one another. In our baptismal vows we promise to respect the dignity of every other human being. The Kingdom of God does not run on the same economy as the world, nor does it play by the same rules of power differential in which things like light skin color, maleness, high education level, and affluence will allow one to dominate someone the world deems as lesser. As Mary points out in the song we call the Magnificat, “[God] has scattered the proud,” “brought down the powerful,” and “sent the rich away empty,” while “[God has] lifted up the lowly,” “filled the hungry with good things,” and “helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy.” Mary and Elizabeth get this notion for they mutually share love, respect, and hospitality with one another.

How will you like these courageous bearers of God’s love flip the power-hungry world on its head? How will you work with God to build the love-hungry reign that these women and Jesus initiated? How will you be like Mary and Elizabeth?

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He Knows You

How do you know if you have met someone? I know that’s a funny question, and I am not talking about whether or not you can remember meeting someone. Think back to a time when you encountered someone new. What was the threshold of actually meeting that person? Do both people have to acknowledge one another? Could only one of them say hello? Does that count?

Meeting someone gets slightly more complicated when people discuss brushes with celebrities. I find it odd that we gush so much over popular figures, but when encountering famous people quite often lowly devotees want nothing more than to say, “I met ‘so and so’ this one time in an airport.” Like any big fish story often these tales morph from just walking past one another in the terminal to having drinks together in the frequent flyers lounge. Usually these meetings though leave something to be desired. Not always though.

You probably heard this week of the death of Roger Moore who played James Bond among other roles on the silver screen. Perhaps what you did not hear was a story from a man named Marc Haynes. When Haynes was seven and traveling with his grandfather the two saw Moore in an airport in Nice, France. Haynes had just seen James Bond and begged his grandfather to help him get the star’s autograph. After a brief encounter including getting the actor’s signature the boy and his grandfather walked away, only something was not right.

The autograph read “Roger Moore” and not James Bond. Haynes told his granddad that he had signed it wrong and felt crestfallen. The sweet grandfather walked back over to Moore and told the movie star he had signed his name incorrectly—not even knowing who James Bond was in the first place. Just then, Moore called over the little boy. Looking around Moore raised an eyebrow and spoke in a very hushed tone, “I have to sign my name as ‘Roger Moore’ because otherwise… [my nemesis] Blofeld might find out I was here.”[1] Then, the movie star made the boy promise to keep his identity safe. Moore’s behavior was remarkable, funny, and brilliant—more than living up to his reputation!

Years later Haynes worked on a UNICEF advertisement that featured Roger Moore. During one of the breaks Haynes told Moore of the story from his childhood. Moore appeared amused and charmed by the story, but claimed that he did not remember the encounter. Then, something profound happened.

As the filming was wrapping up, Moore went to leave, but intentionally passed Haynes in the hallway. As he did he paused ever so briefly, and in a hushed tone he raised his eyebrow to say, “Of course I remember our meeting in Nice. But I didn’t say anything in there, because those cameramen—any one of them could be working for [my nemesis] Blofeld.”[2] WOW!

Encounters do happen that far outpace anything we could ask for or imagine. This was the case with Marc Haynes when he met Roger Moore, but what about us? When have we met someone that blew us away? Are there moments when you not only met someone, but would say after only a brief encounter you know them? What about God? Have you met God? Do you know God?

In today’s Good News from John we heard a line that has been reverberating within my soul all week long. Jesus, in the midst of a prayer to God the Father, spoke, “This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” What a remarkable statement: Eternal life is knowing God. Knowing of God is important. Knowing about God seems crucial. However, KNOWING God is eternal life. It does not lead to it, knowing God is in and of itself eternal life!

We may be amazed at the kindness of a movie star to stop and play along with a seven-year-old and later a young man, but what about God? Have you ever had a moment when you felt the profound, mysterious presence of something beyond you come down not only to meet you, but also to know you? We articulate that God came down in the person of Jesus, He was the Christ, the Messiah, and God incarnate. At that time, parts of humanity got to meet him. What about us?

Thursday was our celebration of the Ascension when we remember that Jesus not only came down, but also that he was carried away being lifted into heaven. Our opening prayer, also known as the collect, for today reminds us that we are liturgically speaking in a precarious position. Jesus has been lifted up with great triumph into God’s Kingdom, and we beseech God, “Do not leave us comfortless, but send us your Holy Spirit to strengthen us, and exalt us to that place where our Savior Christ has gone before.” How do we know God in this time between the Ascension and when the Spirit descends at Pentecost? How do we know God now?

No single answer exists. We know God in a multitude of ways: in creation, in exploring it; in community, in sharing it; in intimacy, in moments of love with friends, family, spouses and partners; in fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup; in hearing the Word of God, in letting it inspire the Good News to live within us; in reaching out, in sharing God’s love in word and deed with those around us; and there are still countless other ways. Chiefly we know God through the life of the one who walked before us and walks with us on the path of eternal life, which will lead us even through death. Still, that is not all.

There will be moments in life when despite the all-encompassing presence of God we believe that we are lost or alone. In moments when we feel like we do not know God or maybe we may feel like we have not truly met God—even in these moments—God knows us. In ways far surpassing a simple meet-and-greet, God knows us. God knows every hair on our head. God knows us. God has known us even before we were born (when we were still in the womb). God knows us. God knows each and every one of us. And what is more, God loves each and every one of us.

How will you get to know God? Be known. Get to know God. Experience eternal life.

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[1] Marc Haynes, “Roger Moore Story,” https://twitter.com/marchaynes, shared May 23, 2017 accessed May 27, 2017.

[2] Ibid.

No Islands

Last night while I was talking with one of my best friends, he interrupted me to say that there had been an explosion at a concert in Manchester, England. Sorrow filled my heart. While 4,137 miles stand between Decatur and that town in Northwest England, I could not help but feel immediately close to the victims of this latest terrorist attack and their families who grieve at this very moment. Maybe feeling such a connection to strangers stands out as odd, but the immortal words of John Donne ring in my ears nonetheless: “Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”[1] We are not isolated individuals, for we are united as a whole and when one is lost sorrow fills the collective heart.

In John’s telling of the story there were moments when from the disciples’ point of view everything appeared lost, disconnected, and sorrowful. On that last night before their teacher would die, Jesus told his followers he was leaving. The disciples got stuck in sadness. Jesus responded with bewilderment, as they were focused solely on the loss and not on where he was going; however, they were stuck. Sorrow had filled their hearts.

We too may feel this as we look out upon the death and destructions that human beings enact upon each other. Just like the disciples we are focused on what is not here, as we believe that we are alone and without God. All signs appear to point to this answer that as the world burns with terror God exists outside of this existence waiting and watching our fearful flailing.

In just two days we will remember the Ascension, the story in Luke’s Gospel account when Jesus left his disciples to reign eternally with the Father. For a few days the Spirit does not descend. The disciples do not feel the impact of the Spirit until that day of Pentecost. We during that time may recall a feeling of loneliness thinking of life without God. For some people this moment does not pass like a morning fog, but instead engulfs them for much longer. Fear, anger, violence, war, and other malicious forces cloud out the realization that the Advocate comes. These terrible powers may even cause one to believe that one stands alone, as an island unto oneself. And yet, this is not the truth!

Jesus leaves so that he Advocate will come to be with us, uniting us forever. We struggle to catch glimpses of this presence, especially in tragic moments; however, I know that when I am at my worst that is the very moment when I can most easily feel this Advocate stirring within me, between others and me, and linking me to that which lies beyond my understanding.

Psalm 138, which we recited together today, calls to mind those moments when we may have moved through a terribly difficult time, and as we look back we see the connections to each other and to God. “When I called, you answered me” the Psalmist cries, and elsewhere, “Though the Lord be high, he cares for the lowly… Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you keep me safe.” When terror seems to close in all around we may struggle to feel this safety, but even then God draws us near through the power of the Advocate.

God loves us more immensely than we will ever know. God shields us as we walk with God. This shield does not prevent us from the pains of this world, and in fact, God may very well call us into dangerous positions to care for the vulnerable and share the Good News with the outcasts and the unloved. Still those whom God loves—that is ALL OF US—can never exist outside the eternal embrace of God’s love! Though God is transcendent, he cares for the lowly. Though we walk through trouble, God keeps us eternally safe. Though our hearts may be filled with sorrow, God sends to us the Advocate who draws us ever nearer to one another and to Godself!

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[1] John Donne, Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII: Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris: Public domain. 

The Hour Has Come

This coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson begins with Jesus looking up to heaven while saying, “Father, the hour has come.” The rest of the passage contains so much theological meat worth chewing on the rest of the week, but the opening bit has arrested me this Monday. As Jesus brings to culmination his “Farewell Discourse” in which he urges his disciples to continue in his mission, he looks up to heaven and speaks so personally to the Father that this speech gives us a glimpse into the Divine Life of the Trinity.

Getting our timing correct stands out as a monumentally difficult task for human beings. A moment earlier or later could change the course of history or at least one’s life. The movie Sliding Doors depicts this perfectly. I do not want to spoil the plot, but suffice it to say that the lead character played by Gwyneth Paltrow portrays two different story lines that diverge from either making or missing a train home. By making it through the sliding doors or being stopped by them her life changes. This could easily happen to any one of us too. What about the life of the Trinity though? Is God confined by this sense of timing?

Often religious leaders like myself will unleash a theological statement along these lines: “God exists outside of time.” When we sit still long enough to contemplate what this means we may need some Advil, especially when we consider how this thought pertains to the Son. As the person of Jesus entered into a particular time and place in the course of time and space and history, we may then wonder how one can say, “God exists outside of time”? The divinity and humanity of Christ Jesus exist inseparably, which complicates the matter all the more. How can a human being exist outside of time? God muddles this even more as we arrive at the Ascension (only in Luke's telling of the Gospel) when Jesus ascended to reign at the right hand of the Father, which we celebrate this Thursday. How could Jesus’ physically ascend into heaven?

Wondering about these particulars and how they happened can trip up even the most ardent follower. So what do we do? Do we stop with the intense questions? Do we just believe without reconciling our Holy Scripture with what science says? Scrutinizing the details, as we pursue the Truth by all means necessary certainly makes the curious learner within me happy; however, in this intimate moment that Jesus shared with the Father it may be too much to try to construct an entire theology of the Trinity based on one sentence within one account of the Good News of Christ Jesus. Said alternatively, we would do well to survey the entirety of Holy Scripture, the writings of Church Mothers and Fathers, contemporary theologians, our own experience, and reason before we haphazardly throw out bathwater or babies as they pertain to the life of the Trinity.

At the same time we must be willing to lean into the hard conversations, namely that there are contradictions within our Faith. If we can make sense of these inconsistencies by looking at the overarching scope and trajectory of the Good News, then our Faith will be made stronger; however, as Jesus looked up into heaven acknowledging the closeness of his relationship with the Father, we must also recognize that inside of that intimate relationship exists a type of logic that may not make much sense outside of it. The Father, Son, and Spirit have known each other forever—and I am not writing this in a hyperbolic sense, as they have been eternally in relationship with one another. The timing of God’s ways are perfect beyond our knowing. The actions of God’s works of salvation do not compute within our feeble understanding. The meaning of the life, death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ Jesus cannot be explained in a way that makes sense to all. While we must struggle to get our theology tight and precise, what matters eternally is knowing God.

While I may be stuck on its first words, the crux of this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson does not rest in Jesus looking up to heaven and speaking of the hour coming, but rather in the profound and perplexing prayer that was overheard by the disciples. To God the Father Jesus uttered, “This is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” We will not fully understand God on this side of the grave. And, as frustrating as that is, it is okay. For our lifelong pursuit of knowledge truly only requires us to know one thing. We must spend our lives knowing the only true God who was fully expressed in Jesus Christ whom God sent, only then can we know anything about this God that is worth sharing with others.

Concentrated Contents

This coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson seems short to me. After several weeks and months of lots of words from accounts of the Good News of Christ Jesus we stumble upon this passage from John 14. Do not let its brevity deceive you though, as its contents are like a concentrated beverage mix, without some liquid, or in this case time and space they may taste or seem overwhelming.

This passage opens with a doozy of a first line. Jesus says, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” Wow! If we are not careful we may very well read this as an ultimatum or law and not as the graceful invitation that it is. God’s grace hits us where we are, but the transformation that comes with that grace typically leads us into following not some prescriptive path without any creativity or latitude, but rather into a life full of exciting co-creative moments when the Spirit of God moves through us. Not surprisingly, the next words of Jesus’ mouth pertain to the Spirit.

Jesus pledges that he will ask the Father to send the Advocate that is the Spirit of truth. Dangerously we may distinguish too much the persons of the Trinity making them separate entities (Father creates, Son saves, and Spirit sustains, or something like that). Maybe this is why Jesus warns of how the world has trouble receiving the Advocate. It cannot see the Spirit and does not know the Spirit, but in an attempt to nail down the mystery of the Divine Community that is the Trinity, we who make up the world **try to** pigeonhole God into the compartmentalized, dichotomous, either/or boxes in which we live our own lives. Said more concisely, the language of this world breaks down in the face of the Trinity, so Jesus speaking of Father and Spirit can come off sounding confrontational—and it is. However, this confrontation stems from Jesus’ love of us, his desire for us to live within this holy community, and the truth that we so often sell the gift of our lives short by not living in the Trinity.

If any of this worries us we only need keep reading this passage, for Jesus reminds us that we will not be left orphaned, alone, or abandoned. “I am coming to you,” Jesus promises, “In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.” Sometimes the words through which John shares the Good News tend towards an esoteric realm that may be tough for us to fully grasp. Sometimes I find it frustrating, but typically I find it strangely reassuring. Christ—whom we identify as the eternal salvation-bearing person of the Trinity—continues to live now and always. But really we need say God lives always, which also means that Christ and the Father and the Spirit live always.

When Christ made himself fully known in the person of Jesus what also became fully sanctified was humanity. Yes, our bodies even in their varying degrees of failing, but not just that physical part. All aspects of our humanity were swept up in Christ Jesus’ divinity. Take a moment to remember at once both the Incarnation and the Ascension, for these were not just about God coming to earth and leaving to go to heaven, but rather providing a divine eraser for the perceived space between heaven and earth and earth and heaven. Christ lives on beyond that moment of Ascension, and through this we live. To expand this further, the divine community known as the Trinity is where we came from and it is where we are going, so certainly it is what we are made of at this very moment and it is who we are at our core. We may not currently see this reality with the eyes in our heads, but hopefully we observe it deep down with the eyes of those deeper parts of ourselves.

These Holy Words challenge us this week (and beyond) to merge the deeper vision with the way we look at the world. Christ’s Incarnation, life, death, Resurrection, and Ascension speak of the grand truth of the stages and seasons of our lives too. We do not live separately from God, but eternally dwelling in the community of the Trinity. This does not mean we always get it or see it or that life is a piece of cake. Rather, we live in this reality in which we must practice trusting that God’s Word is true that we live in Christ and Christ lives in the Father and the Father sends the Spirit and the Spirit lives in us. And yet, this statement is way too clean. For the life of the Trinity of which we are a part is both more interconnected, interwoven, and unified and at the same time more precise, distinguished, and specialized than my words can ever describe. So, it’s time I stop typing for awhile and instead experience life in the Trinity!

Jesus Goes With Us

Sometimes when gathering with friends something amazing happens. In the midst of eating a meal, or grabbing a cup of coffee, or taking a drive I keep getting the distinct feeling that I do not want it to end. You may have had a similar experience at points throughout your life. Maybe it was gathering with family around the table at Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Mothers’ Day. Perhaps, it was going to Java Jaay to meet a buddy. It could have even been driving for thirty minutes with your kids/grandkids/parents, but sometimes there arises a longing to make time stand absolutely still.

When I was in college I yearned for these timeless moments, like long dinners with friends or late night “bull sessions” at the local truck stop. Without thinking about it I would work really hard all afternoon to make sure that I completed most of my work, so that I could savor evening conversations. One night, though I had a different sort of evening engagement.

A staff member of the university invited a group of young male leaders to have dinner together to talk about issues around modern masculinity. The meal was lovely and the conversation stimulating. The staff person asked us to talk about serious matters like sexual assault and more light-hearted topics like low attendance at sporting events. Like a jet airliner the conversation took a little time to make it down the runway, but fairly soon we had taken off and were soaring through the various questions. As it happened I was sitting with some men with whom I was already good friends, and so our conversing came so naturally that the topics all flowed together seamlessly. Pretty soon I had that familiar feeling that I just did not want the moment to end. Then, something strange happened.

Right at the moment when our conversation appeared to peak, the leader made everyone stop talking—except it was not to ask another question or pose a new direction of dialogue. The middle-aged man spoke something that I will probably never forget. He said to the group of eager male leaders, “What a great conversation that we are having! I bet this is one of the best discussions you’ve had. Can you believe how great this is going?” With this statement, the feeling of time standing still ended. With this statement the airliner that was our conversation came crashing down to an abrupt emergency landing. With this statement not one of the tables was able to keep the conversation going.

I have joked with my friends about that evening in the years since then. Any time we have a good, lengthy conversation and there is a momentary pause someone seems to interject a remark about how the conversation is going so well. There are many ways to ruin good discourse. Pointing out how good it is going seems to be high upon that list. Although, it is not alone. Sometimes what may hurt an interchange of free flowing thoughts, ideas, and feelings, hopes and dreams and even deep, dark secrets, what may hurt the most is realizing that the conversation is seemingly about to end.

The disciples of Jesus were upset; their hearts were troubled and not for nothing. They knew whether consciously or not that something was about to happen to their teacher, their leader, their beloved friend, and they did not want it to happen. Lazarus’ had been raised not too much earlier, but death still hung in the air. In an attempt to calm down his friends and followers Jesus described in beautiful detail what was to happen next.

Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.” We know these words so well ourselves. If you have been to a burial service at St. John’s it may very well have featured this astonishing promise as the center piece, the Good News. Even when the disciples get the sense that the conversation may be ending, Jesus expresses to them that he goes ahead to prepare a place, so that their time together will never truly cease.

Sometimes when I am in the midst of a marvelous moment with free flowing conversation and a deepening sense of connection with my fellow children of God I remember a bit from Matthew’s Gospel account that the Prayer of John Chrysostom borrowed. This offering from Scripture and our Daily Prayer services reminds us that when two or three are gathered together Jesus will be in our midst. What a profound promise that we are given by that statement! I do not just hope that to be true, all those marvelous times of fellowship have made me realize its truth; however, this is not simply something that we know in moments of happiness. Rather, even in the midst of big transitions, doubt, fear, and loss Jesus comes to be with us when we gather together.

As the rest of this Gospel story for today played out Thomas and Philip expressed doubt, ignorance, and obliviousness. And yet, Jesus showed the way, the truth, and the life; he expressed that even the smallest belief—not accent with the mind, but hope in the heart—yes, even the smallest belief in him or even his works opened up the possibility for the greatness of God to flow through that person. Still, as we sit here like trouble-hearted disciples of old we may feel overwhelmed by a transition that lies ahead: a graduation, a procedure, a newborn child, a time of letting go, moving up a grade, or finally retiring. In these liminal moments we may not fully feel connected with God. Perhaps the conversation has grown cold. Maybe, we’ve lost the way. Or even, we were having a good conversation, but stopping to think about it has halted the speaking altogether. How do we keep going?

Focusing on doubt, fear, and loss is often easier than continuing onward. The real quagmire of broken-heartedness ensnares us all when we stare the awful realities of this world in the face—not only the problems that pop up on front pages or cell phone screens, but also the dilemmas of daily life and the supposed solutions that this world often provides. We cannot earn our way out, buy our way out, or think our way out of life’s difficulties; we are still the disciples who stand before Jesus with our hearts troubled. How we continue onward, even in light of the Resurrection, sometimes seems impossible. So what do we do? How do we keep going?

Even if we are careful and cautious and gracious to ourselves, quite often we fall into the trap of thinking that salvation is up to us. That we must be the way, the truth, and the life. We think that all our doubts must be overcome and that our prayers must be perfect and that if our prayers do not get answered in the way that we think they ought to be, then we have somehow done it wrong. If there was ever a conversation worth stopping it would be this one that we have with ourselves. It is not up to us to provide eternal salvation to ourselves.

Jesus says I go to prepare a place for you and not only that I come again to take you to that place, so that we might dwell together with him in that holy meal, that grand celebration, that festive conversation that never ceases. We get stuck on trying to figure it all out for ourselves, instead of trusting that God came, comes, and will continue to come to us. We busy ourselves worrying about how to solve all the problems of the world that we forget that Jesus is the one that goes ahead of us to lead us into the fullness of God. Jesus is the one who comes back to bring us to God. Jesus is the one who leads us into transformed lives!

Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. He goes with us always. Through transitions big and small, doubts miniscule and grandiose, and losses tiny and enormous Jesus goes with us. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in Jesus.

Trust in God

Often we will gloss over large swaths of human history because the complex details of various movements require too much attention to the minutia. Invariably this appears to be the case when we talk about how Christianity came to be the imperial religion of the Roman Empire under Constantine. Once he came to power Christianity swept the globe without another religion existing until modern day, right? Not exactly.

The Fourth Century was a free-for-all. Perhaps a wrestling cage match might be the most appropriate analogy for that time period. On one side there were Arians who believed that Jesus the Christ was created by the Father and subordinate to him. On another side were the Athanasians who believed that the Christ was completely God in the same way that the Father is God. At the same time that these two sides were going at it there were also other beliefs namely paganism that captivated some. Throughout the 300s these sides struggled against one another creating a complex view of religion.

Into this conflict a man named Gregory was born in the town of Nazianzus. That is the only time I will refer to that place because honestly it is too difficult for this novice Greek scholar to pronounce. Various relatives of Constantine reigned after he died when Gregory was only six years old. Some were Arians, while others were Athanasians, and then there was Julian the Apostate who was a pagan. Gregory grew up in this pluralistic world, but his father who was an Athansian bishop sent him off to school in Athens with another famous student, Basil the Great. Well, he was not yet the great.

After school Basil went on to become the Archbishop of Caesarea, while Gregory went home to help out his father fight off some Arians. Basil soon appointed his friend to a post as bishop of Sasima, which sat in an unhealthy community that was viciously fighting over whether the Christ was God or subordinate to God. Gregory hated the post and thought Sasima was not even part of civilization and he even felt like he was flung to the dogs like a bone. This ministry tested everything about Gregory including his friendship with Basil. Eventually Gregory had a major breakdown and retired from his ministry.

Sometimes we think that the stories of our saints, those men and women throughout the ages who have clearly shown to us the love and grace of God by living out the Gospel of Christ in their lives, sometimes we believe that they are infallible. At times we mistakenly believe that saints are not really people, or they are not people like me or you, but that is simply not the case. Gregory perfectly exemplifies the imperfection of a spiritual journey, a walk with Christ, the struggle that is following after Jesus. Some will say that God does not give you more than you can handle, but that is not the case. Sometimes God does, and you may end up like Gregory who needed some time and space to recover.

After the death of an Arian emperor named Valens, Gregory was asked to go to Constantinople, which was far more the center of the world in those days than Rome was. For thirty years the place had been an Arian stronghold. Perhaps Gregory was chosen because if he failed it would not have been that big of a deal. He had nothing to lose. It was already an Arian city, he had already failed, and so in that moment Gregory instead of relying upon his own strength trusted in God.

Gregory preached a series of five sermons on the Trinity and the divine nature of Christ. Many people came to hear him preach, and the city was converted to the Athanasian point of view. Gregory soon became bishop of Constantinople and helped to confirm at the Council of Constantinople what had been started at the Council of Nicea. His greatest contribution came only after he failed. Soon after the Council of Constantinople being sick of the ecclesiastical life, he retired.

We may think that being a saint means being perfect; however Gregory proves that wrong. Sometimes we must fail and fail mightily. Only then do we recognize that we must trust in God fully.

Life's Not Fair

“Life’s not fair.” Has anyone ever said that to you? I know I have heard it a few times throughout life and I bet you have too. Perhaps it was as a child when you got in trouble for doing something that your sibling had just done without punishment… “No one said life is fair.” Or, maybe it happened in school when your 10^th grade English teacher marked obviously correct grammar with red ink… “You know life is not always fair.” Then again, it could have been recently when the officer pick you out, even though everyone around you was speeding… “Life’s just not fair.”

In today’s Gospel lesson we hear a tiny sliver of one of my favorite passages in Holy Scripture that reminds me that life is not always fair. Often we hear the rest of this passage at funeral services. Jesus said to his disciples, “Do not be troubled.” Even though it was the night before he would die, Jesus spoke peacefully about the place where he was going, that he was preparing a place for them, and that there were many dwelling places there. At that moment Thomas blurts out a logical concern. When I hear about “Doubting Thomas” I think, “Sometimes life’s not fair.” For he was one who simply wanted a little bit more evidence, a little more from Jesus, and yet the Church has dubbed him the wayward cynic. Thomas spoke, “Lord we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus’ response has encouraged and perplexed the Church in the subsequent ages, “I am the way and the truth and the life.”

The Church picks on Thomas because in the cold black ink of Holy Scripture we can so easily scoff at his honest wonderings. Remarkably though one of the saints whom we celebrate today deserves a grander nickname of skepticism. Philip said to Jesus, “Lord, show us the Father and we will be satisfied.” Elsewhere in John he doubted that nine months wages would be enough to feed a swarming crowd. Life’s just not fair to Thomas, he lived a curious life and he became the doubtful one.

Returning to today’s Gospel lesson, Philip had been with Jesus all along–even calling his friend Nathanael to follow Jesus—and yet he missed the signs that pointed to Jesus’ complete connection with the Father. Maybe we can start a movement to call him Skeptical Philip or Oblivious Philip. And yet, something marvelous emerges in this interaction between Jesus and Philip, for I believe we discover that there’s another way of understanding “life’s not fair.”

Paul in his second letter to the Corinthians wrote, “Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart.” I recently had the pleasure of hearing the author Anne Lamott speak about mercy. She said that when she hears the word mercy something in her changes. She feels a sense of release such that she no longer holds something against herself or someone. Just hearing the word mercy or merciful is enough to wake her up. When Skeptical Philip made his request to see the Father right after Doubting Thomas had wondered about the way Jesus was going, our Savior could have flown off the handle. He could have said, “Look you nitwits, I’ve said it before I’m too tired to say it now. Why don’t you get it already?! You’re all gonna abandon me anyway. What am I doing this for?!” Thankfully he did not! Instead, he responded with mercy.

As I look around here this evening and see friends from Good Shepherd, St. Timothy’s, St. Barnabas, and St. John’s I am encouraged because I know that like what Paul wrote, we are engaged in God’s ministry together. I also know that in each of our cities and communities we are experiencing divisive times, as we live with deep chasms in our nation. We may want to shut people out with whom we disagree and when asked why we aren’t acting with kindness say, “Well, life’s just not fair.” However, this will only worsen our collective wounds. Instead, what if we were to look through the lens of Christ? For Christ Jesus also believed that life was not fair, except he meant that in a merciful way.

He did not punish as evildoers deserved. He did not smack Skeptical Philip and Doubting Thomas on the backs of their heads. He did not send bolts of lightning upon his torturers. Instead, he was the way, the truth, and the life. You may ask, “So what does this mean?” I think it means that we too believe life is not fair.

Life’s not fair, but through the lens of Christ that means something different. In the “fair world” we rip out an eye for an eye, take a tooth for a tooth, and take a life for a life. We disrespect that other party because they disrespected us. And yet, life’s not fair. So, we wield the weapon of forgiveness instead of the venom of vengeance. We seek to serve Christ in all as we respect the dignity of all others including that one person we think we hate that we are thinking of at this second. Life’s not fair means that when faced with the corrupted and fallen powers of this world we act with the self-emptying love that Jesus showed on the cross.

So this is the ministry we’re called to engage in together. Paul described the difficulty of it when he told of the gods of this world distracting many such that they cannot see, hear, or experience this good news. Many remain captivated by the law of an eye for an eye, the law of a fair world. And yet, this is not good news, nor is it the way, the truth, and the life. In our ministry let us band together in mercy, so that we do not lose heart. Let us go forth from here and sharing the Good News of Christ who responds to us mercifully and who show us that life is indeed not fair.