To Be Great

This sermon was preached at St. John’s Church, Decatur, AL on Saint James Day. The readings that inspired this message were the following:

Jeremiah 45:1-5

Psalm 7:1-10

Acts 11:27-12:3

Matthew 20:20-28

A few summers ago I was visiting a friend in San Antonio. He was teaching at an Episcopal School there. A parent of one of his students invited us to go see the Spurs take on the Utah Jazz in an NBA Playoff game. That parent was a well-known lawyer in the city, so the accommodations were outstanding—free wings, burgers, and beers! How could this get any better? Then, at halftime our host asked if we wanted to sit courtside for the second half. WHAT? Things couldn’t get much better!

The game was already out of hand by the time we sat down in our seats, as the Jazz had no chance. Soon the second string players for both teams would enter the game. But, for a few moments I watched Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, and Manu Ginobili play together. I will never forget seeing their pure, athletic greatness up close. Even when they left, the bench warmers were so quick, physical, and massive! These players were great and they made their opponents know it. The game turned out to be quite a blowout. But, what I really took with me from that night was being able to witness someone who is one of the best in the world at something do that very thing.

Our world recognizes this sort of greatness all the time. People pay lots of money to see the greatest athletes, comedians, and singers, to eat at the best restaurants, to watch the most acclaimed plays, to visit the most exquisite art galleries, and to take in the most renowned museums. With the advent of the internet we have list after list of the greatest this, that, or the other. Sometimes it feels like people create these lists just so their town, restaurant, or business is on it! We love greatness and we want to be part of it. Humans even seem to be hard wired to want to be great. And, maybe this is a worthwhile thing to want to be great, but I am not sure that it is what Jesus envisioned when he walked the earth.

Christ Jesus walked and talked, preached and taught, lived and died the way of true greatness. And, many of his apostles and saints in their own age have followed after him. But, they may not have figured out Jesus’ counter-cultural, anti-instinctual path of greatness right away. Take James the Great for example, whom we celebrate in the Church today.

Depending upon the Gospel account writer, either the mother of James and John, James and John themselves, or all of the disciples were arguing with Jesus over who was the greatest. In the story we heard this evening the mother of James and John knelt at Jesus’ feet and begged that her sons might have the honored places in Jesus’ Kingdom. James and John fought for those honored spots in the way that Mark told the tale. And, all of the disciples had a free-for-all over who was the greatest in Luke’s version. Regardless of how it happened, this fighting over “greatness” happened. Jesus though was not interested in that way of thinking.

Seizing on this opportunity, Jesus pointed to Gentile rulers and tyrants who lorded their position over one another. Yes, sort of like the blowouts in basketball or a self-congratulating award recipient or a restaurant who flaunts all its prizes. Jesus though pointed out another path. A way that was not about comparisons and competition, but rather seeking to serve others.

We often talk about service in the Church, and that is all well and good. However, what do we really mean by this? The type of service that Jesus called his followers into was not like simply being a friend to someone in need, but rather it was taking the lowest possible position. Jesus was calling his followers to be like those in his own day who had no autonomy, no choice, and no agency.

One of those who heard Jesus was one of the children whose mother was begging for a prized spot in the first place. James the Great may not have thought much of what Jesus first said that day long ago. However, later something happened. Whether it was Jesus’ words finally sinking into his soul or whether it was seeing Christ Crucified or whether it was meeting the Resurrected Jesus, something in James changed. For he soon sought not the great place of honor or the promotion of Jesus to a place of worldly power, but rather that lowliest of places.

James is the only original apostle whose death is recorded in the New Testament. He was willing to promote the message of Jesus’ Good News that God is not interested in self-aggrandizement, worldly greatness, or lording something over someone else. Rather, James realized what Jesus came to do in his life, death, and resurrection. Namely to show us the true way of greatness—the way of love. To be great be a servant, following after the example of Christ that James did.  

The Nearness of God

God's Transcendent and Intimate Nature on Display

This sermon was preached at St. John’s Church, Decatur, AL on Saint Thomas A Kempis Day. The readings that inspired this message were the following:

Psalm 33:1-5,20-21 Ecclesiastes 9:11-18 Ephesians 4:32–5:2 Luke 6:17-23

How do you know when you are near God? Presumably if we all were like Moses and had a burning bush moment, then it would be easy to see. But, it’s not always so easy.

How do you know when you are near God? As our reading from Ecclesiastes reminded us things do not always happen according to our own plans. The same can be said of moments spent with God. Sometimes when we least expect to recognize God in our midst, God shows up. And, other times we just know that we will see God, and then we don’t. This can be eternally frustrating.

How do you know when you are near God? Maybe that is the wrong question. For God always resides within, beside, before, behind, beneath, above, and beyond us. The trouble comes in our recognition, our comprehending, and our knowing this Truth. We do not always get that God is nigh. So, how do we? How do we know it and trust it?

There are countless ways for us to keep aware of God’s immediacy. When I was younger though I tended to think that God was not all that close. I thought that God had wound up creation like a clock and then left it ticking along. Now though I see the fallacy of this belief. There have been too many times, there have been too many moments, there have been too many occasions when God has been closer than my own heartbeat to me. I see things differently now.

God dances with God’s creation at all time and in all places. God laughs with us, weeps with us, walks with us, sits with us, and rests with us. God eats with us, imbibes with us, listens with us, prays with us, celebrates with us, and lives with us. This is not at all a new phenomenon. God has always been intimately connected with the creation God made. Still, there are moments when we may not feel any of this. Perhaps that is why we call God not only Father and Son, but also Spirit.

The Spirit of God often gets depicted in inconsistent ways. God’s Spirit is a fire, a dove, a breath, or a gust of wind. This feels hard for me to comprehend. How can a changeless being also be compared to these things? This is hard to say. Still to say that God cannot change seems a fallacy for that limits God’s own ability to move, grow, or decide something different. What may help us here is knowing that it is us that move, grow, and decide something different—we are the fleeting ones like grass that soon whither. Happy, I know! So what?

Do we just go through life hoping for a glimpse of a God who may or may not speak to us? What do we do? Do we think that God is flimsy and flip-flopping all the time? That does not seem right. So what?

The Good News is that we have been given in the life of Christ the great mystery of God Incarnate, Man Divine. The mysterious and hard-to-behold Truth is that Jesus was both fully human and fully divine. If this is truth, then what other mysterious paradox might we hold about God? God is eternally changeless and eternally changing? God is intimately close and yet ultimately transcendent? We always receive comfort from God and yet are always being challenged to grow in the way that we see God. This is the wisdom that the saint whom we celebrate today shared with the Church.

Thomas A Kempis was born in the 14^th Century in Germany. He became part of the Brethren of the Common Life, was a priest in Germany, and died in 1471. That’s about all we know about him. But, he left us one of the greatest Christian works of his day, The Imitation of Christ. In that book he invited followers to live by the example of Christ Jesus. More than that he let readers know that God’s gracious will does not always conform to what we expect. The following is from his work:

When God bestows Spiritual comfort, receive it with a grateful heart; but remember that it comes of God's free gift, and not of your own merit. Do not be proud, nor over joyful, nor foolishly presumptuous; rather, be the more humble for this gift, more cautious, and more prudent in all your doings, for this hour will pass, and temptation will follow it. When comfort is withdrawn, do not immediately despair, but humbly and patiently await the will of Heaven; for God is able to restore you to a consolation even richer than before. This is nothing new or strange to those who know the ways of God, for the great Saints and Prophets of old often experienced these changes. ...Indeed, the temptation that precedes is often a sign of comfort to follow. For heavenly comfort is promised to those who have been tried and tempted. “To him who overcomes,” says God, “I will give to eat of the Tree of Life.”

The consolations God gives to us do not always look the same. Sometimes they are more challenging. But, all is gift from God. We are called to persevere and remain faithful as God continues to love us and be faithful to us.

Too Much

In John's Gospel account too much is just right.

Looking ahead to this Sunday’s Gospel lesson so many things stand out! First, we have jumped from Mark’s to John’s Gospel account. There are a few implications to this transition that are worth noting in a moment. Second, even as we have switched narrators we find ourselves roughly at the same story as we were last week—namely, the feeding of the five thousand. Third, unlike in Mark’s telling of the Good News of Christ Jesus, John will go on at great length about Jesus’ connections with the Bread of Life. Fourth, if it were not enough that we see one sign (what John calls miracles) of multiplying bread and fish, Jesus then walks on the water and transports the scared disciples from the middle of the sea. Finally, these details collectively point to an overarching theme in the Fourth Evangelist’s narrative, which focuses upon the overabundant nature of Jesus’ ministry. Let’s look more closely at these elements.

While it does not happen every week, except during Lent of Year B, switching from one Gospel account to another does happen fairly regularly. Preachers may not include this boring detail in their preaching; however, when we change from Mark to John it is worth noting. Mark, the earliest, briefest, and most direct Gospel writer told the Good News at a breakneck pace. John, the latest, most ethereal, and least like the synoptic Gospels prattles on in comparison with Mark. What stands out most profoundly when comparing the two is that Mark wants the listener to wonder and to respond to the mystery of who Jesus is with action; whereas, John’s desire focuses upon clearly articulating Jesus’ overabundant nature as the Christ who has come to start an eternal feast. Even through this change we find ourselves in the midst of the same or at least a similar story.

Last week we skipped over part of Mark 6, as we danced around Jesus feeding the five thousand. This week though we are hearing John’s version of that miracle in full. What sometimes feels hard as we compare one story with another is that they do not line up. We could let the discrepancies between stories upend our faith. However, taking into account that these were stories passed down orally and recorded in full later, and that these were stories told in different communities with different needs these differences actually can strengthen our belief in Jesus, his actions, and his teachings. It is like when statements are taken after a traffic accident. Even moments later different eye witnesses and the drivers will share a different version of the same events.

Part of the different version of the same story that John tells has to do with Jesus’ nature as the Bread of Life. John is like one of the photographers who took my school’s pictures growing up—he has an abundance of nicknames. Except instead of “sport” or “tiger” John uses more theologically profound nicknames for Jesus. John uses many analogies to describe Jesus, such as, the Word of Logos, the Good Shepherd, and soon enough in the Sunday Lectionary the Bread of Life. There will be much more time to think about the Bread of Life, but suffice it to say that this life leads to satisfying deeper more eternal hungers that people have.

Jesus feeds the masses, but that is not the only sign that points to his true identity in this 

story. Stacking these miraculous signs on top of each other creates a sort of richness that we may not be able to take in all at once. Just one of these signs would be enough to point to Jesus’ nature as the Christ, the Son of God, and the Savior of the world. But, John’s overabundant way of telling the story can be so full that we have to choose one lane instead of grasping the entire picture. Simply focusing upon Jesus’ walking on the water to the disciples’ boat could be enough for a whole sermon. Still that’s not the way John shared the Good News. There was a too-much-ness to his narrative.

John’s Gospel account from the beginning pulls readers or listeners into a world where Jesus has come to bring an overwhelming, overabundant, heavenly banquet here to earth. It is as though his first miracle at a wedding banquet set the stage for the rest of the story being one big party. In that day and in that part of the world parties would have had bread, and this banquet has a lot of bread. Over the next few weeks we will get so much that we might want to become gluten-free. However, as we feast on Jesus who is the Bread of Life we must be conscious of how Jesus points us in the direction of making this a feast for all.

There is too much to preach on this week. Still, as we prepare for this transition from Mark to John in which we stay in approximately the same story, we are challenged. Jesus invites us to recall that at God’s table where we feast on the Bread of Life everyone is invited, just like when Jesus fed thousands!

Free Time

Are you a good steward of your time?

As a kid growing up spending summers at camp was the best! I loved so much about my weeks away from home—horseback riding, arts & crafts, the ropes course, camping out, s’mores, canoes, and night activities! There was one block of time each day though that I did not like.

In fact, I despised this hour above all other times. No, it was not swim tests. Although I did not like having to prove I could swim and tread water each and every summer. WHAT? Did I forget how to swim this year? Come on! Nor was my least favorite time at camp dancing with yucky girls who had cooties—I mean even as an awkward and pimply twelve year old I enjoyed dancing. I even liked the complete lack of air-conditioning, the time away from TV, and the gross bathhouses. The time I could not stand, I could not tolerate, I could not abide was none other than “rest period.”

You may think that I am a calm, laid-back, and contemplative person. And, as your pastor, I really aspire to be a non-anxious presence. But, my true self is like a duck. On the surface I look placid, and yet underneath the water level there’s always churning and movement and activity. So, as a tween to ask me to nap or to be quiet or even to just sit on my bed during rest period was the greatest agony. Yes, I did have a cushy childhood! Still, I did not learn the great joy of napping or resting or even relaxing until much later. Even now I’m not good at it. And, I’m not alone.

We as a society cannot calm down. We are not good at resting. As someone recently told me, “I don’t do nothing well.” We don’t do nothing well. We are bad at sitting still. We are like kids who have been loaded up with sugar before bedtime or campers who can’t sit still at nap time. So what do we do when Jesus invites us to “Come away to a deserted place all by [ourselves] and rest a while”? How do we slow down enough to even hear him saying this to us? Can we even allow ourselves to take moments of leisure? Can we utilize that time wisely?

You may recall that each month here at St. John’s we have a stewardship focus. Fittingly enough, given today’s Gospel lesson, July’s concentration centers on the Stewardship of Leisure. On the surface even the phrase “Stewardship of Leisure” sounds silly, for leisure is spare time, time off, or free time used for enjoyment. Why not let it just be spontaneous? Why plan out free time? Doesn’t that sort of structure defeat the purpose of leisure? To answer these questions think about some free time or a vacation that felt unfulfilling. Maybe you came back more tired than when you left.

When we do not use our down time effectively it is akin to eating empty calories or spending superfluous money on something that does not bring lasting joy or serve a larger purpose. Sadly I have had a few retreats and vacations that actually depleted me instead of recharging me. Those unsatisfying moments of leisure were such because I did not think from the perspective of being a good steward of what God was giving me. In other words, I did not recognize that the time away was a gift from God. I was a bad steward of my time.

To listen to Jesus’ call to come away with him to a quiet place of refreshment is not about having the perfect plan. For that sort of over-scheduling can in and of itself defeat the work of the Spirit to create new spirits in us. So what does being a good steward of leisure look like? What does following Jesus in our free time require? Well, what does today’s good news teach us?

Friends, there’s a hole in the middle of today’s Gospel lesson. In that space (6:35-6:52) is the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. Don’t worry over the next five Sundays we will hear way too much about Jesus and bread to make up for this week’s missing piece. But, it’s important to see how Jesus’ invitation to come away to a deserted place did not turn out exactly according to what we might expect.

Jesus invited the apostles to rest awhile. But, that time of respite was cut short, as the Spirit intervened in the way of many tired persons who were hungry. They descended upon Jesus and his friends as soon as the protagonists reached the shore.

This onslaught of people meant that the disciples had no leisure time, not even to eat. And, so tired and hungry from their own missionary work, they were looking forward to a little rest and relaxation. Instead the disciples were tasked with helping Jesus feed the masses. It was as though a feeding ministry broke out in the midst of their retreat center! The time that God had given the disciples to rest was now time when God was asking them to work. Ugh! I can feel the disdain and frustration from two thousand years away. So what? Does Jesus not really want us to rest? Are we supposed to give until we are burnt out, broke, and bone-tired?

Perhaps the fruit of this passage grows from an exploration of the way we use not only our free time but all time. Back in May we focused on this precise thing: the Stewardship of Time. During that month your clergy urged you to explore creating a rule of life, or as our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry recently called it, a way of love. The purpose of this way is to find everyday practices that encourage and challenge us to give our first fruits to God—to give our best time to forming habits that nourish our relationship with Christ. When you thrive in your way of love, when you dedicate yourself to a rule of life, when you give your best moments of the day to God, then all time gets transformed. This isn’t always easy to remember though.

During seminary I often felt like I had too much to do—papers to write, sermons to prepare, and field education to experience. Sometimes I would just do the bare minimum. I would go to the required one chapel each day, but I shirked a second or third opportunity to spend that time with God and fellow students—to give that time to God.

One day I was walking back from class with a friend. He began to turn toward the chapel and I started toward my apartment. I said, “I went to Morning Prayer already. I don’t have time to go to Eucharist today.” He responded humbly, “I don’t know what I have time to do until I go to chapel. Afterward my priorities are straight.” Needless to say, I turned around and went to chapel.

Maybe in that moment I felt a tinge of guilt—like one of the disciples who really just wanted to rest and not deal with the hungry thousands. Slowly though I have realized how wise my friend’s words were. Every moment of every day, God gifts us with the present. Each new day overflows with opportunities to grow our relationship with God.

We need times of Sabbath, restoration, and healing, or else we will not be able to sustain our personal and collective ministries. However, whether it is free time, work time, family time, personal time, prayer time, or other time God gives us each second, minute, hour, day, week, month, and year. All of it is a gift.

At all times and in all places we are called to give thanks to God for the present we receive. Some of those moments will be Jesus calling us away to a deserted place. And, other moments will be times to forget our needs and serve those who are hungry. If we continue to give our best moments to God we will discover something amazing.

Like how the bread and wine that we put on the altar each week gets transformed into our Eucharistic Sacraments: the Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven; the Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation. And, like how the monetary gifts we bring to the altar as symbols of ourselves get transformed into the ministries of God’s work and blessing in this world. When we give our time to God, God transforms it and God changes us.

Each nanosecond we receive from God is already a gift. God beckons us to give each moment back so that it may be blessed and sanctified. This may mean that we experience moments of calm in a quiet place with Christ. It could also mean that the tranquil times are interrupted by a chance for ministering to another. All moments are a gift. When we recognize that all time is gift it is easy to give the present back to God.

Infantile Vision

 

To see who we truly are we need the vision of a child (and yes, I am shamelessly using a pic of my own child).

This Sermon was preached at St. John’s Church, Decatur, AL during the Wednesday Evening Eucharist on July 18, 2018. The sermon was inspired by the following passages from Holy Scripture:

Isaiah 10:5–7,13–16

Psalm 94:5–15

Matthew 11:25–27

“You are so infantile!” is not typically a compliment. In fact, usually that phrase gets thrown around as an insult. Being “childish” often gets even children in trouble. We as a culture want nothing more than to grow up. So, why is it that Jesus thanks God for hiding “these things from the wise and the intelligent and [God has] revealed them to infants”? What is Jesus talking about—what things are hidden from the smart but revealed to earth’s newbies?

To understand what Jesus said, we must take a look at where his earthly mission had recently taken him. Jesus had been on a tear! He’d been healing and teaching and all the while revealing the Kingdom of God to those that were bold enough to follow him. His renown grew in all of Israel. People shared what Jesus was doing so much that even John the Baptist in prison heard about it. John’s followers sought out Jesus to discover if he was the one whose way John had been preparing. Instead of giving a straightforward answer, Jesus pointed to all that was being done—the blind receiving sight, the lame walking, the lepers becoming clean, the deaf hearing, the dead living, and the poor hearing good news!

As John’s disciples left, Jesus spoke glowingly of his forerunner, but he lamented that no one really heard John’s message. And what was more, no one listened to what Jesus was speaking. When John came people said he was too harsh and when Jesus came they said he was too joyous and accepting. Even through all of the deeds of power that Jesus did the people could not see who he was. With all of the bountiful spiritual fruit Jesus produced the people were not satisfied. They were essentially dead to what he was doing, which brings us to today’s Gospel lesson.

Even though Jesus had been pointing to God through his words and teachings, his thoughts and speech, his deeds and actions—even though with everything he was and did he pointed to God—not many saw to whom or to what he pointed. They missed it. Children though are different. Infants are different. They do not have prejudices, preconceptions, and prejudgments. They are open. Their vision is pliable. They are playful in engaging the world.

God’s gracious will was to hide the greatest wisdom from those who are puffed up by their sense of ego, knowledge, or status. Instead, God hid signs in the everyday and they point directly back to God. That’s what Jesus was inviting others to see. Through his healings he was pointing to something larger—that the created order was about restoration and wholeness. Through his teachings he was pointing to something more profound and at the same time more simple—that all are welcomed as God’s children. Through his ability to overcome death he was pointing to the most important truth—that God’s love conquers every disconnect, every sin, and even dying itself. Still somehow people missed that, and sadly we miss it too.

Through these words we are challenged to see through the eyes of an infant. We are called to be infantile, childish, and immature, but not by regressing. No, Jesus is inviting all who have ears to hear into a second childhood. Some call this state being reborn, but I prefer another term, second naiveté. What does this mean? To better understand this let’s look at the analogy of a journey.

It is all too easy to be thrown off our path in the middle of our lifelong pilgrimage. Often getting thrown off the path is a good thing. It’s a chance to learn and grow. There are moments when we use a self-defense mechanism to get through a tough time. This is a good thing—it helps us make it through a difficult wounding. However, if we get stuck using this self-defense mechanism too often or for a troublesome part of the journey that it will not really help, then we may get discouraged or worse. We may become cynical, burnt out, depressed, anxious, or otherwise disenchanted with the beauty of this life. This is where so many who have heard Jesus but did not listen to him get off track, and where we need second naiveté.

To see the world not through the prism of defensiveness, skepticism, or cynicism requires us not to regress to childish behavior, but to reclaim the essence of who we were as authentic children of God. Who are we really? Who are you really? Who did God make you to be? What gifts and talents do you have? What’s your place in this world? These are all helpful questions in recovering that genuine part of us that Jesus yearns to draw out of us. For when we see with the vision of an infant we do not expect the worst in people, but rather see them as other ones to play with, laugh with, and learn from!

Jesus, right after this passage, says some of the most inviting words in Holy Scripture. They are words that call us deeper into life with Jesus and seeing from God’s “child-like” vision. “Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” This invitation is a blueprint into finding our true selves.

Jesus invites us to put down the burden of thinking that we are important (i.e. egoic thought). He calls us to rest in our real selves. He gives us the work of being who God truly calls us to be. Children who see that everything points to God through the neon-bright sign that is Christ. You are God’s child, now start acting like one  by actually being one!

Reconciling Love

When Jesus asked Peter if he loved him on a beach, Jesus was modeling reconciling love for us.

This Sermon was preached at St. John’s Church, Decatur, AL during the Healing Eucharist on July 17, 2018. The sermon was inspired by the following passages from Holy Scripture:

Psalm 92:1-4,11-14 

Jeremiah 3:15-19
1 Timothy 3:1-10
John 21:15-17 

Jesus says, “Do you love me?” And how do we reply? Countless times each day Jesus whispers in our ear, “Do you love me?” If we reply by echoing Peter’s words, what will Jesus say to us in return? Jesus tells us what he told Peter: feed my lambs, tend my sheep, and feed my sheep.

This story of a Jesus having breakfast on the beach with his disciples lies very closely to the heart of the Church. In John’s Gospel account alone this passage unfolds. Here Jesus untangles the web of guilt that wrapped around Peter—a knotted mess he created by his three-fold denial of Jesus on the night between Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. This story hits at one of the most foundational pillars of our Faith. Namely that even denying Jesus and betraying him at his death cannot counteract God’s reconciling love.

Truly, there is nothing that can undo God’s powerful forgiveness. But, what does this look like when it is not just an individual person dealing with guilt or disconnection? Like for example, what does this sort of reconciliation look like when churches are feuding, denominations are breaking away, or countries are warring with one another? The saint whom we celebrate today shows us what God’s reconciling love looks like during times of national upheaval.

After the Revolutionary War the Church of England in America did not quite know what to do with itself. Our predecessors wondered what would become of the Anglican Church here in the newly founded United States. Before the war there were no bishops because the Brits did not want to give a colony that kind of power. During the Revolutionary War the New England states had felt a pinch as their clergy people were almost exclusively from England and so they often had their loyalties split between Church and colony. In the Mid-Atlantic and Southern states the clergy’s allegiances were more unified against the British. Many removed King George’s name from their prayers. Then, after the Americans’ surprising victory it was even more uncertain how the English Church in America would proceed.

This was the first time in the history of the Church of England that a colony had gained its independence. How would the Church grapple with this developing reality? How would this messy web be untangled? How would the wounds inflicted upon fellow children of God be healed across the Atlantic Ocean? Well, one way was to stay united in Church structure or polity.

After the Revolutionary War the first American Bishop consecrated was Samuel Seabury, who through the Church of Scotland received his episcopate. He made some promises about the first American Prayer Book being created. Seabury said that he would follow the Scottish form of the Eucharistic Prayer in which there is an invocation of the Spirit or Epiclesis. This was unlike the Eucharistic Prayer in the Church of England. And, quite often Seabury’s remembrance overshadows our saint for today, William White, who served as the first bishop of Pennsylvania.

White was unanimously elected as Pennsylvania’s first bishop and he was ordained in England by the Archbishop of Canterbury and York as well as the Bishops of Bath and Wells and of Peterborough. His theological background may not have been as astute as others in his generation, but his ability to build consensus and heal divisions was rivaled by no one in his era. White served as the Presiding Bishop during the organizing General Convention. He was the chief architect of the Constitution of the Protestant Episcopal Church in America. To put it precisely, he was a born leader who through his Spirit-given gifts brought about healing and reconciliation during the years after the American Revolution.

Christ Jesus empowered Presiding Bishop White to feed lambs, tend to sheep, and feed them. But, when we see such a profound witness of Spirit-driven leadership we may believe that we cannot accomplish what White did. God’s Truth though challenges that notion. All of us have a ministry. Each one of our stories fits together in the story of Christ Jesus—the Good News of God’s Beloved. We may not be the Presiding Bishop at the first General Convention, but we are called to be like Peter and Bishop White who heard Jesus’ call to feed and tend to God’s flock. Let us also be part of God’s reconciling work in this world!

Disappearing Party

Be careful when asking for more bread... You might just get it!

If you listen closely this coming Sunday morning to the Gospel lesson you will observe something remarkable. No, not the beautiful invitation that Jesus offers his followers to “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” No, not the fervor with which people chased after Jesus like paparazzi stalk today's celebrities. No, not even the power with which Jesus healed those around him. The outstanding feature of this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson is not any of the above. Rather, it is a disappearing party.

When I was in college I can remember observing a similar phenomena of vanishing shindigs. During my freshman and sophomore years I drove around the Bacchus bus at Sewanee. Bacchus was the student-led organization that aimed to create a safe campus by offering rides in a 15-passenger van that catered to mostly drunk students on weekend nights. As I drove fellow students around, I remember them oddly moving from one party to the next throughout an evening. This happened as one party gathered steam and another lost it. Quite often as a student would enter the van to go from one side of campus to the other she would say, “That party is dead” indicating that what was once there was now gone. In a strangely similar way, we observe that this coming Sunday’s Gospel story once had something that is now gone!

Before we get to what vanished, let's look at what is there. Jesus received his disciples back from their mission trip to share healing in his name. As his name spread even the powerful heard it and they were startled. This we know because Herod thought Jesus was the reincarnate version of John the Baptist whom Herod had recently beheaded. When Jesus invited his followers to take some respite after they completed their work this downtime was soon overrun by a group of people so lost that Mark described them as sheep without a shepherd. It is at this point in the story where things skip around.

Instead of describing the feeding of the five thousand, our given Gospel lesson jumps ahead to Jesus crossing the sea again. In Gennesaret Jesus brings more healing, and while this healing gives us reason to be thankful, I am left wondering, what gives? Why did the framers of our Sunday Lectionary decide to dispatch with Mark 6:35-52, the feeding of the masses? How could they think it was the right move to never include Mark’s version of this story anywhere in our Sunday Eucharistic Lectionary? As a realtor might say, it has everything to do with location, location, location!

This disappearing party where Jesus invites everyone to God’s grand banquet has been moved. It's location has changed, or rather it's time has been delayed. Very soon—as in next week—we will be swimming in bread so rich that we won’t know what to do with all of it. Soon enough—as in a couple weeks from now—we will be so sick of Jesus feeding us that we will politely ask him to stop. All too soon—as in over the next month—Jesus will not stop talking of the Bread of Life such that we will beg him to tell us of anything else. Yes, after this coming Sunday we will swiftly shift from Mark’s Gospel account to John’s Gospel account where we will spend five weeks hearing the fourth evangelist’s telling of the feeding of the masses and everything that Jesus thinks about anything gluten!

When on Sunday morning we feel like the folks who made the Revised Common Lectionary have stolen our mass on the grass, our pop-up party in a field, our counter-cultural banquet with Jesus, we can rest assured that we will get our feast! And, like all things that flow from Christ Jesus and all that our life-giving Creator gives we will have more than an abundant plenty. This Sunday be thankful that we do not have to hear about Jesus and bread because soon enough we will be so full of the Bread of Life that it will be coming out of our noses!

Good News? Yes, Good News!

The power outage at St. John's this morning only added to this week's dark Gospel text.

During Holy Week we hear the Passion of Our Lord. We read an account on Palm Sunday and hear the Evangelist John describe Jesus’ suffering on Good Friday. During those moments the Church mercifully leaves out the traditional introduction and the congregation’s response. Today though, we did not have that luxury.

After hearing this brutal story of a corrupt, powerful, and witless figure I said, “The Gospel of the Lord.” And, you all responded—perhaps sheepishly—“Praise to you, Lord Christ.” How are we to offer our praise after hearing this? What about this is good news? Can we even describe this as positive? Is there any good news in this passage at all? Maybe. But, first we must hear the bad news. 

This bit of Mark’s Gospel account opens so strangely. King Herod Antipas, the tetrarch of Galilee, a man who reported directly to the emperor, was worried. Herod’s anxiety arose because he began to hear of Jesus of Nazareth. This upstart rabbi reminded him of someone else—John the Baptizer. And, Herod had just beheaded John. But, this is where the story gets even stranger, for the next anecdote—the longest in Mark’s Gospel account—is a flashback. This recollection depicts how Herod’s family used his power against him to murder John the Baptizer. This is bad news indeed.

Now even though Herod answered directly to the emperor, most historians depict him as blundering and weak. A colleague described him as a “murderous, lecherous, gluttonous, incestuous enemy of God.” That about covers it. But, this long flashback sequence still deserves a little more scrutiny.

At the beginning of this remembrance the Baptizer had spoken an unwanted truth to the king. John said one is not to take his brother’s wife. Leviticus clearly outlined this obvious truth. Now, this ought not be confused with caring for a brother’s widow. No, what Herod did was steal his brother Philip’s wife. So, John the Baptist told Herod and Herodias that God did not approve.

Herod, the worm of a man he was, made a weak compromise with Herodias. Herodias wanted John the Baptist killed. Herod, although he was perplexed by John, enjoyed hearing him speak. So, Herod decided to keep John alive, and under lock and key. But, then came Herod’s birthday party.

Mark tells us that an opportunity arose when Herod threw a birthday party for himself and invited a bunch of his powerful friends. The word opportunity stands out here for two reasons. First, opportunity means “happy day.” Herodias saw the day when she could kill John as a joyful occasion. Gross! Second, opportunity is the same word used later in Mark’s Gospel account when Judas betrayed Jesus turning him over to his death. And, this brings us to a larger parallel. This story of John’s betrayal and death at the hands of the systems of power prefigures Jesus’ own betrayal and death. It is sounding more and more like bad news, right? Back to today’s story and the opportunity.

Herodias in a ghastly move of desperation sent her daughter into the birthday party to please Herod and his guests. Herod was this young girl’s step-father and uncle making the entire encounter disturbing enough. However, the foolish king quickly gave the girl a chance to make this party even more sadistic. For Herod promised the younger Herodias she could have whatever she wanted, up to half of the kingdom. In the midst of this disgusting birthday party, the Herodiases had the king right where they wanted him.

The mother-daughter combination pounced on the opportunity, as they asked for John the Baptist’s head. The girl added the gory detail of “on a platter” to her request. Then, the deed was carried out by a hapless soldier. When the man of the guard returned with John’s head on a salver he did not take it to the powerless king, but straight to the girl who promptly and proudly displayed it to her mother. This cannot be good news. Right?

This story has to fall under the category of bad news. Jesus is nowhere to be found. The terrible triumvirate of Herod, Herodias, and Herodias never reappear in Mark’s story. And, perhaps most horrifically this flashback to John’s death is truly a foreshadowing of what Jesus will face on Good Friday. So, why are we forced to face Jesus’ death, our Faith’s darkest day, here in the middle of the summer? Why are we thrust into the despair of Holy Week during this long season after Pentecost? Why must we endure this bad news? Where is the Good News?

Everything in Mark’s story of Jesus Christ is connected. Right before this nightmarish flashback the twelve were sent out to do the work of curing the sick and preaching repentance—and they did it well. Right after this story Jesus takes the disciples away to rest, but ends up feeding the five thousand. This gross story we heard today then points simultaneously in multiple directions.

First, the power of Jesus’ name was spreading. As Jesus sent out his disciples there were consequences. The power of his name had not only reached those people who yearned for God’s Kingdom to come, but also to those who were threatened by this Good News. We are to share in Jesus’ Good News—that God’s Kingdom has come to all—even with those in power.

Second, when the disciples brought healing and word of God’s Kingdom coming to the towns where they visited, they were attended by success. This was not the case with John. For the Baptizer also shared the Truth of God, but he was killed for it. Those in power could not handle what John had to say. We can—when we speak truth to power like John—undergo resistance, persecution, and even harm. God still calls us to preach this Good News even if it gets us into trouble.

Third, most of this ghastly flashback story took place at an exclusive banquet for the elite. As we look forward to the next week’s Gospel lesson we see another gathering. Jesus’ feeding of the Five Thousand was a counter-banquet to the murderous, lecherous, gluttonous, and incestuous birthday bash for Herod. All were invited to take part in Jesus’ mass, outdoor, pop-up party.

Thus, we see in these three directions our own opportunities, our own happy days in which God transforms even this gruesome story into something more. God switches what we are sure is bad into what God knows is good. But, God yearns for us to be a part of this.

We are called to be like the disciples. Friends, we must make Jesus’ name be known. For this world needs his message of healing and hope and love. And quite often it will be like the disciples in last week’s Gospel story. We will be met with peace and smiles and hospitality. Sometimes though it will be different.

We will be called to share God’s Truth like John the Baptist. God desires for us to share Good News, and not just with those whom we know will like it. There are countless examples of Christians like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Edith Stein, Óscar Romero, Jonathan Daniels, and Martin Luther King Jr. who in their day spoke truth to power, even though it led them to death. They were not people unlike us, they were folk just like you and me. They and John help us to know that we cannot sit on God’s truth—why would we keep Good News all to ourselves?

And, we are called to make our gatherings ones that look like the feeding of the five thousand, not like Herod’s birthday party. God showed us through Christ Jesus that all are welcome to feed at God’s Table—and yes, that would even include the elitists from Herod’s gathering. As we finish our construction project here at St. John’s—Our Table, God’s Table—how will we invite everyone to be part of God’s banquet where all are welcome?

Make Jesus’ Good News known in all the world. Share God’s Truth with all even those in power who may be threatened by it. Let us invite everyone to God’s Table where all are welcome. Amen.

An Opportunity to Trust God

What do we do when challenges stand between us and where God calls us?

Listening for God’s call in our lives requires patience and perseverance. I bet you know what I mean. Sometimes it feels like we strain and strain and strain to understand what God is saying to us. Perhaps that is why we hear in the Psalms of God’s still, small voice—and not God’s loud, obvious speech. Or why Elijah met God not in storms or earthquakes, but in shear silence. But, even when we hear God’s call, even in the stillness, in the silence we may discover a host of obstacles standing between where we are and where God is calling us to be. These challenges can be giant and unfamiliar, or they may confront us when we are eating lunch with our family.

One day I went out to lunch with my mom and sister right before an important meeting with the Rt. Rev. Henry N. Parsley, who was the Bishop of the Diocese of Alabama at the time. The meeting was about my discernment for priestly ordination. After driving down from Sewanee where I was working, my family and I ate lunch at Jim ’N’ Nick’s Barbecue in Southside Birmingham. My niece who was only a few weeks old at the time also came to lunch.

For most of the meal we talked about discernment and being a parent and life. And, for most of lunch my niece slept peaceably in her mother’s lap. Finally, as we finished eating and my meeting with the bishop drew nearer, my niece awoke. My sister brought her over to my side of the booth, so that I could hold her for a few moments. I rocked my niece for just a few seconds before feeling something wet and warm on my forearm. At that precise moment a look of terror crossed my sister’s face and then my mother’s. I don’t remember exactly what was said, but suffice it to say the word “blowout!” was used.

Quickly I rushed to the restroom to assess the damage and clean up. In the mirror I could tell quite easily that I could not go meet a bishop looking like this. As I began to panic, I remembered that I had an extra set of clothes in the car, and so I rushed outside to get them. When I arrived at my car another look of terror arose and crossed my own face. I observed in horror a traffic boot attached to my tire preventing me from going anywhere, and in particular to my meeting with the bishop. In my nervousness before lunch I did not notice that I was parking in a private lot.

At that precise moment, in soiled clothing, with a wheel lock on my car, and proverbial butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I began to question whether I ought to be pursuing ordained ministry at all. Was this a sign? Did God not want me to keep going? Was this a test? What was God saying? You’ll have to keep listening to find out what happened, but what about you?

What happens to you when hard things arise on the journey? Do you fold? Do you think it’s a sign from God to turn around and go home? What do you do?

This morning we heard a passage from a letter Paul wrote to the church in Corinth. If you don’t know much about that church that’s okay. They were a conflict-ridden lot. They could not wait on each other to partake in communion. They fell prey to infighting, lust, and idol worship. They were to put it simply, a dysfunctional church—one that others in the area probably spoke about in hushed tones.

While the church in Corinth is not identical to the Church (capital C) today, it is not entirely different from it either. What happens when a church or the Church faces difficulties, dysfunction, and drama? Well, what happened in Corinth? Paul, perhaps at this point exhausted from all the Corinthian shenanigans took to writing of his own weakness. Huh? Not strength?

As he wrote of weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities what he urged his brothers and sisters to do was not to let those obstacles overwhelm them. Certainly on their own these things would stop them. Sure, if it was just about them pushing onward as individuals they would not make it. But, those weaknesses were the very place where Christ would strengthen them through grace. I know, that sounds odd, but it’s true.

Paul was right. In those places where he had been afflicted by a thorn, he might not be able to be strong on his own. But, with God’s help, those places of vulnerability become the place where God would show great strength. This was true not just for Paul, nor only for that young church, but also for us.

We often get told things like, “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps,” “Keep your head down and work hard,” “Put in enough honest days’ work and you will achieve the American dream.” Sure, we are to be honest and hardworking. But, as odd as this may sound trusting only in ourselves, thinking we must make it on our own flies completely in the face of what Paul said. And, what’s more it runs opposed to the story of God’s love for us in Holy Scripture.

When the Israelites fled their Egyptian captivity Moses told the people, “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.” When the people needed a champion to beat Goliath, the Lord provided David who then reigned for forty years as king. And, in today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus sent out his disciples without food, extra clothing, or money. Why? Because following Jesus and trusting in God is not about making it on our own—proving that we can overcome all the obstacles on our path.

In this lesson from Mark’s Gospel account, God not only gave provision, but God also gave an opportunity to bring healing and wholeness to the places previously untouched by God’s love! The story of God’s love for us in Scripture reminds us of amazing grace that is not achieved, but freely given to us most abundantly through Christ. So, what about getting through obstacles like dirty diapers, traffic boots, or scary meetings with bishop?

Well, on that day almost nine years ago I learned something very valuable. Those challenges that arose, that now are quite laughable, were opportunities for me to trust God. Eventually, I walked into the bishop’s office in clean clothes and on time. As you may have guessed, I made it through that meeting and one day did become a priest—I know twist ending! But, what about when challenges arise in your life, in our communal life? How do we approach the obstacles ahead? How do we deal with our own physical, emotional, spiritual, or mental dilemmas? How do we as a church stay calm and healthy as we seek an interim rector and then engage in a search process?

In the face of these challenges, we always have more than one way to respond. One way we might respond is being like the townspeople in today’s Gospel lesson. They relied upon the way they had always seen things. They had put Jesus in a box. To them he was always a carpenter, brother, and son—not God come to earth. Instead of knowing the transforming power of God’s repentance, forgiveness, and love they let the obstacle of familiarity get in the way. They missed being part of God’s transforming love because they couldn’t see beyond what they already knew. The disciples though saw things differently.

Now the disciples were not paragons of belief—remember they doubted Jesus on stormy waters in our reading from a couple weeks ago. But, they had just seen Jairus and an unnamed woman trust in God, and they heard Jesus give them authority to go out bringing healing and repentance in his name. So, they went. They trusted. Even without food, extra clothes, or money, they believed! The challenges they faced were opportunities to trust.

When we face difficulties ahead, how will we respond? Will we let a soiled outfit, a traffic boot, or the fear of something important cloud our vision? Or, will we see the obstacles on our path as an opportunity to trust God? God invites us to see these challenges like Paul did. When we feel weak, that is the moment when God shows strength. Our perplexing moments are opportunities to trust God. Will we see God’s strength in our weakness? Whenever we are weak, God is strong. God’s grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness! This life is an opportunity to trust in God’s grace! Amen.

Love Your Enemy

As we reflect on the importance of Independence Day, how will we hear Jesus' invitation to love not only our neighbors, but our enemies as well. 

There’s a parable that the Jesuit priest Anthony De Mello tells in his book The Song of the Bird. The story entitled Jesus At The Football Match goes as follows:

Jesus Christ said he had never been to a football match. So we took him to one, my friends and I. It was a ferocious battle between the Protestant Punchers and the Catholic Crusaders.

The Crusaders scored first. Jesus cheered wildly and threw his hat high up in the air. Then the Punchers scored. And Jesus cheered wildly and threw his hat high up in the air.

This seemed to puzzle the man behind us. He tapped Jesus on the shoulder and asked, “Which side are you rooting for, my good man?”

“Me?” replied Jesus, visibly excited by the game. “Oh, I’m not rooting for either side. I’m just enjoying the game.”

The questioner turned to his neighbor and sneered, “Hmm, an atheist!”

We took him up on this after the game. Was he in the habit of never taking sides? “I side with people rather than religious,” said Jesus, “human beings rather than Sabbath.”[1]

Here in the United States we grow up being taught of our exceptionalism. We learn of concepts like Manifest Destiny. Our media reinforces that we are the greatest of all nations. Our sense of greatness almost feels like it is in the air we breath. This story from Fr. Anthony De Mello, as silly as we may think it is, points in a different direction. That direction is the same direction we hear Jesus leading us in our Gospel reading for Independence Day.

“Love your neighbor,” is the second greatest of all the commandments according to Jesus of Nazareth. Following it is hard enough. We have a difficult enough time in our country loving our neighbor who has a different opinion, background, faith, custom, or story than our own. We hear Jesus saying these words—almost every Sunday at the 8 o’clock service—and perhaps quietly we nod our head. But, to live out this truth, to actually love our neighbor is really hard.

To do this we have to see that neighbor from beyond our limited perspective. We have to find common ground: we live on the same street, reside in the same town, share a mutual friend, or have a common interest. To put it in the language of De Mello’s parable, we root for the same team, the same side. And, while this is difficult to find common ground, it is not impossible. However, Jesus did not stop speaking after he said “Love your neighbor,” no this was just the introduction.

Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” What stands out here is not that we are called to love our enemies. Yes that is striking! However, what stops me in my tracks is that loving our enemies is how we become children of God. The way we are these children is by being like our Father/Mother in heaven. And, to do this, we cannot just cheer for our team.

To be like God, to be like Jesus, to be filled with the Spirit we are called to see even our enemies through the eyes of Our Loving God. I am not saying this is easy. It’s almost certainly impossible. In truth, it definitely is impossible on our own. But, with God, through God all things are possible. Yes, even loving our enemies.

To love our enemies though we must be able to cheer for both sides. To love our enemies we must see things not just from the perspective of what is best for us, but also what is for the good of the world, the universe, and the cosmos. To love our enemies we must be willing to cross over boundaries and love people like Jesus. And, the way he loved was and is without limit. But, there’s one more thing.

God’s call to us is not that we must love of our enemies to be his children. Rather, when Jesus said what we read today, he was describing who God’s children are. It’s a matter of fact, a matter of truth. God’s children love their enemies. That is the truth of being a child of God. We receive the transforming love of God, then we cannot help but let it overflow not just to our family, friends, and neighbors, but even to, maybe even especially to those who would persecute or hate us.

As we celebrate Independence Day, may we recall that we are a vast nation of neighbors who are called to love and to respect each other, despite our differences. And, Jesus bids us even further. As we live as children of God, we are called to love even those who despise us or our country. Let us love each other, love those close to us, and love our enemies!

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[1] Anthony De Mello. “Jesus At The Football Match.” The Song of the Bird. (New York: Image Books Doubleday Press, 1982). 147-148.

Listening To Those Closest To Us

730 days of marital bliss!

Yesterday marked two years of marital bliss for Kim and me. Sure, it hasn't all been bliss, but it's clear to me that I love her now more than I ever have. We quietly celebrated our milestone last night by cooking dinner together. More noisily throughout yesterday we dealt with all the emotions of saying goodbye to our beloved friends the Garners who are moving to Fayetteville, AR. As I reflected on being married for 730 days, I fell like I am just starting to learn what it takes to have a good marriage (characteristics Elizabeth and Evan seem to possess in abundance).

Sacrifice — A lot of people will say compromise is the key to marriage, but I tend to think it works better to find consensus. Of course, there are times when one must sacrifice for the good of a relationship. It's hard to be unselfish though, as it works against some societally created norms.

Pause — Sometimes that thing I think I need to say isn’t what I really need to say. It’s okay to pause, take a breath, and discover if what I wanted to say earlier is really worth saying. Will it matter tomorrow, next week, next month, or in a year?

Celebrate — When I was a kid I remember every month had something to celebrate. It is good to find ways to celebrate a relationship, not just on an anniversary, but throughout the year. Did someone say date night?

Unite — Find meaningful ways to connect. This could include praying together, worshipping together, meditating together, cooking together, parenting together, just being together, etc.

Listen — Often life is so distracting that it is hard to know what is going on within ourselves, let alone within someone else we love. It is of great importance to listen not just so one can respond, but so that one actually hears one’s partner. What they want and need; their hopes and dreams; their fears and challenges. 

Over course, with only two years of marriage experience, I am not all that proficient in all those areas. And, this last point has really hit me squarely in the heart, not because I am good at listening, but rather because I am not. I am not good at really hearing what Kim says. While I yearn to be better, my not always being good at hearing Kim has helped me to understand something I previously could not. And, that lesson has everything to do with this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson.

Jesus and his disciples got to his hometown. When it came time to learn about and to worship God in the synagogue Jesus stood up to teach. The power with which he spoke amazed the people who had known him all his life. Well, not so much amazed them as offended them. In fact, even though he knew these people and they knew him, he could do no deed of power there. It was as though even though he preached powerfully and offered God’s healing, they were too close to hear or to receive what Jesus gave. You see where I am going?

There is more to this story, but today I am stuck on this crucial detail. The townspeople who knew Jesus best, his own family even, could not really experience the coming of God through him. What a shame!

It’s not too tough for me to draw the line to my own experience of not really hearing what Kim is saying to me. She can tell me something transformative ten times, but often I cannot hear it. Then, someone else says the exact same thing, and I hear it straightaway. What a shame!

How often do I miss God’s voice speaking through my wife’s wisdom? Do I not see Jesus walking beside me in the disguise of others here in Decatur? What about when we go to our childhood hometowns? Do we miss the power of God’s presence and the abundance of God’s healing that flows through those closest to us or those we have known forever?

This week I feel challenged to see anew God’s word and healing present in the people with whom I am closest. How about you? Will you see the coming of Christ in those who are closest to you?