Sunday, April 26, 2020

The Masked Christ


A screen-grab from All Saints' Livestream from April 26, 2020

© Seth Olson 2020
April 26, 2020—Third Sunday of Easter


View video of today’s sermon by following this link: https://vimeo.com/412085929 (sermon begins at 16:22).

Today’s Gospel lesson features the familiar story of the walk to Emmaus. In it, two disciples head out of Jerusalem on Easter night seemingly unaware of or unable to comprehend the magnitude of the empty tomb. While Mark’s Gospel account gives a brief outline of this story, the full depiction is unique to Luke. What is not unique within Luke is the setting of a journey.

Journeys are everywhere in the Third Gospel. Mary and Joseph had to take a trip to get to Bethlehem. The Parable of the Good Samaritan occurred on a road. Where did the father embrace the prodigal son in that famous parable? Out on a road! For a huge chunk of this gospel account Jesus was on the road to Jerusalem—and that was where so many of his greatest teachings happened. Even in the “sequel” to Luke, the Book of Acts, the apostle formerly known as Saul was blinded on the road to Damascus, before God changed his life for good and his name to Paul.[1] Embarking on a journey was not only important in Luke though, journeys are vital to us too.

How often do we describe our lives as a journey? We tell each other to take the high road when someone is dragging us down. Some people advise taking the road less traveled. And, what graduate has not received the journey-focused children’s classic Oh The Places You’ll Go, which compares life to one big, challenging adventure. And, our life in Christ is no different. Do we not often ask one another, “How is your faith journey going?”

And, all of our journeys (faith and otherwise) took a weird turn a few weeks back. Maybe some people projected the challenges of this virus, but I do not think anyone could see the full extent of how the COVID-19 pandemic would upend or turn around our traveling down our paths. As we all still struggle with what to do and what the next steps of our journeys will be, we would be wise to consult today’s story of the walk to Emmaus for guidance. What does this Easter evening trek teach us about our individual and collective journeys? Let’s look at three lessons because y’all know how much preachers like to talk about examples in groups of three.

First, it’s good to travel together. The Bible does not tell us why these two disciples decided to leave Jerusalem just hours after their fellow female disciples had seen the empty tomb, but they did. While this might seem crazy, what was not crazy was going together. There’s a wonderful African proverb, which reads: “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” Cleopas and the other disciple may have only been traveling to Emmaus, seven miles down the road, but they still understood the importance of traveling together. Likewise, on our journeys we yearn to travel together.

It’s in our very nature to walk the road together. I think one of the most challenging aspects of our current situation comes in that we are not able to have the normal interactions with those in our support networks. A basic belief we have as Christians is that we believe in a Triune God, as in God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—three-in-one. To me this means that God’s most elemental nature is communal. We come from God, so we come from community. Thus, we want to have fellow pilgrims on the way. This is challenging to do in this moment, so we have to use creativity—phone calls, Facetime, Zoom calls, letters, emails, Facebook messages, and countless other ways can connect us. And, there’s another way that involves the third traveler who came alongside the disciples, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

Our life journeys right now are challenging enough and even with a fellow pilgrim on the way, we may not know exactly where we are going, and this gets us to a second lesson we can learn from today’s Gospel story.

Sometimes on our journey, it is appropriate to wander. Now, maybe this is a stretch because the way Luke tells this story Cleopas and the other disciple knew where they were going. They were traveling to Emmaus, which according to the text was seven miles outside of Jerusalem. However, if you look on almost any historical map and consult most any Biblical scholar they will tell you there is some confusion as to where Emmaus is. Now, just last year archaeologists uncovered a massive Hellenistic wall that some believe identifies the location of the ancient city of Emmaus.[2]

Still, I wonder if the disciples’ journey that Easter night was more of a wandering walk into the grief of losing their Lord than a Point A to Point B excursion. When the disguised Jesus asked the disciples what they were talking about on their way, they stood still looking sad. They were heartbroken.

Right now, we can see stress, loss, grief, depression, anxiety, illness, and death are all looming large during this part of our collective journey, as we experience the ramifications of this pandemic. And up until a few weeks ago, we may have thought we knew where we were going until the world turned upside-down and caused us to stand still and feeling sadness, like those disciples on the road to Emmaus.

Sometimes we are told not to experience, express, or process our emotions—we should just keep going on our journey—but Christ Jesus and these disciples model something different. In them, we see that it is appropriate to stop, feel our emotions, and even get lost in them. For Christ found these disciples when they were lost in their own sadness.

This brings us to the last lesson I want to bring up from this Gospel text: Christ always walks with us, but we don’t always know it. The disciples walked with Jesus for long enough to have a killer Bible study in which the Risen Lord revealed throughout all of Scripture all that pertained to his being the Messiah. In that moment, the disciples did not see the true identity of their fellow pilgrim. What dropped the scales that had obscured their vision? Breaking bread together with Christ Jesus!

During this pandemic when we are not able to have communion together, when we cannot break bread at God’s table or even in each other’s homes, this detail makes me stand still in sadness. Even here though on this daunting leg of the journey, Christ is with us. We may just have overlooked Christ in his many disguises. It’s almost as though Christ sometimes wears a mask.

Speaking of masks, a few weeks ago there was a National Public Radio story about how to politely greet one another while wearing a facemask. The reporter suggested using a friendly wave, giving a thumbs up, or smiling with your eyes, Tyra Banks calls that “smize.”[3] Me personally, I like the peace sign, touching my heart, or saying “Love” in sign language. However, this whole report got things backwards. People are looking for ways to portray themselves as friendly, which is good. But, I think it’s more important for us to truly see the one beneath the mask.

During this difficult time it has been amazing seeing all the doctors, nurses, chaplains, and medical technicians; the bus drivers, train engineers, pilots, ship captains, and flight attendants; the delivery drivers, food delivery drivers, and mail delivery drivers; the grocery baggers, clerks, and managers; the police officers, firefighters, and EMTs, and the many, many, many other people who are risking their safety and their lives to keep essential services going. And, most of them we don’t actually get to see and even when we do see them we often don’t get to see their faces because their faces are covered by masks.

Underneath those masks though, we might just see the face of Christ. Many of the people wearing those masks are loving each other, sacrificing for each other, healing one another, just like Jesus did. And, we, just like Cleopas and the other disciple, might not have been able to see that Christ Jesus has been walking beside us on this road the whole time. Those disciples could not see Christ Jesus because of their grief, and we might have missed seeing God’s face because of all our emotions and of course the masks. So I urge you to look again and see who is walking next to you.

We are definitely traveling on a strange leg of the journey. But, we do not walk alone. You’ll never walk alone. Even if we are socially distant, we are spiritually united. And, it is okay to wander or even get lost. Because it is when we feel most lost that Our Risen Lord shows up in the most profound and unexpected ways. This week, as you continue on this path that is life, I pray that you see Christ’s face, even if it is hidden by a mask. Amen.




[1] Eric Barreto, “Commentary on Luke 24:13-35” WorkingPreacher.org [published April 23, 2017, accessed April 26, 2020]  
[2] Ariel David, “Israeli Archaeologists May Have Found Emmaus, Where Jesus Appeared After Crucifixion” [written September 03, 2019, accessed April 26, 2020] https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/.premium.MAGAZINE-israeli-archaeologists-may-have-found-emmaus-where-jesus-appeared-after-crucifixion-1.7774167.
[3] Sharon McNary, “In L.A., It's Now Mandatory For Everyone To Wear Face Coverings” NPR.org [published April 10, 2020; accessed April 26, 2020]. https://www.npr.org/2020/04/10/831480486/in-l-a-its-now-mandatory-for-everyone-to-wear-face-coverings

Saturday, April 11, 2020

Shelter in God

On this holy night we are all called to shelter in God.


 © Seth Olson 2020
April 11, 2020—Easter Vigil

Back on Tuesday, March 24th the City Council of Birmingham passed Mayor Randall Woodfin’s order for citizens of Alabama’s largest city to shelter-in-place. On Saturday, April 3rd Governor Kay Ivey issued a statewide stay-at-home order that went into effect a week ago and has kept non-essential workers in Alabama from leaving their homes, except for necessities. These actions by elected officials have been required here, as well as around the United States and throughout the world to prevent the spread of COVID-19. Even with these measures, this week in the United States, looks like it will be the deadliest yet in this fight against the novel coronavirus.

As someone in the Faith and the Modern Family class put it during our Zoom session last week, “It’s strange that this week, Holy Week is the most deadly week we’ve seen.” Someone else from the Men’s Bible Study pointed out that this month is not only when Holy Week happens, but it is also when the Jewish high holy days of Passover occur and the Muslim holy month of Ramadan begins. It is not just strange, but tragic that our major World Religions are having to cope with the reality of celebrating their holiest of days when so many are dying and we are all separated. We are sheltering in place, staying at home, and these are acts of compassion and love for our families, friends, and neighbors across the street and around the globe. Still, I cannot help but wonder if tonight of all nights we might shelter somewhere else.

Tonight is the night when the Church and the whole world rejoice, joining with heavenly hosts and choirs of angels, as Susie Youngson beautifully sang just a little while ago. The Exsultet, that ancient hymn, expresses in just a few holy moments of chanting the importance of this night. It was the night when God’s people were freed from bondage in Egypt, it was the night when Christ restored us to grace, broke the bonds of hell, and rose victorious from the grave. How wonderful is this night when wickedness is put to flight, sin is washed away, innocence is restored to the fallen, joy is given to those who mourn, pride is cast out, and peace and concord reign. Tonight is the night when earth and heaven are one. So, while I understand when our health experts tell us we are to shelter individually in our homes—because I want the coronavirus to pass over us as quickly as possible—while I get this logically, tonight I would love for us all to be sheltering together here, praising God who has done the most amazing thing—putting death to death.

And yet, sheltering where you are whether in your home or perhaps at your essential place of business, sheltering where you are does not mean that we are not together. In truth, I believe this night reveals that it is not only about gathering together in our holy places. It is not only about coming to church or another thin space where God’s presence palpably persists, but rather on this night, for us as followers of Jesus it is about eternally sheltering in God. We are called to shelter in God! This imagery of sheltering in God pervades our Scripture, songs, and prayers tonight and throughout our lives in Christ.

In our reading from Exodus the people of Israel sheltered in God as they walked across the Red Sea on dry ground. The lesson from Isaiah told of people dwelling in the security of God as those with no money received food, milk, wine, and toilet paper at no cost—wait, it doesn’t say toilet paper. In the First Song of Isaiah we know that surely it is God who saves us—God is our stronghold and our sure defense. In our prayers we know that God created and yet more wonderfully restored all of Creation—protecting it. Through these words we can understand that God sheltered us not only in ages past (like the powerful hymn, “Oh God Our Help In Ages Past” tells us), but also here and now!

God has been the God who sheltered and guided, blessed and restored throughout our entire history. It does not mean that there have not been tragic, painful losses. It does not mean that brave ones did not have to give their lives to further God’s reign of love here on earth, but God has been with our mothers and fathers, our Christian forebearers who persisted through persecution in the Early Church, the plague of the Middle Ages, the turmoil of the Reformation, the founding of the Protestant Episcopal Church in America, the end of slavery, the reconstruction of a nation, the Great World Wars, the Influenza Pandemic of 1918, the Civil Rights Movement, the September 11th Terrorist Attacks, and countless other earth-altering events. In each and every age God has been the shelter of faithful ones like you and me. And, why is that?

Well, that is because in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ Jesus we know that we have a shelter that is going to withstand whatever comes our way. Christ Jesus on this night defeated sin and death. Christ Jesus on this night overcome the gravity of the grave to triumph over all that pulls us away from the life abundant. Christ Jesus on this night united eternally heaven and earth.

In our passage from Romans we hear anew that we are united with Jesus. And if we are united in a death like his death we are surely united in a resurrected life like his. Because of this, we know that not even death has the last word—not just 2,000 years ago and halfway around the world, but right now, right here as we stare COVID-19 right in the face. No evil, no malice, not even the devil himself can overcome us when we are united with Jesus. When the devil tempts us to fold, we can, as someone recently put it, tell the devil to stand 6 feet back with the help of Jesus.

We can trust in God who has been, “our help in ages past,” who will be “our hope for years to come,” who is “Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home.” We can know for sure that God is a “Mighty Fortress” just as Martin Luther sang. We can trust in Jesus as our crag and stronghold as Psalm 31 puts it. When we shelter with God though, it is not always about hiding away in a grand turret of a magnificent castle. Sometimes sheltering in God requires us to shed our armor.

This pandemic while causing me to shield myself with antibacterial wipes, hand sanitizer, and staying at home has at the same time completely crumbled my heart. But, at least according to the prophet Ezekiel this is a good thing. Through Ezekiel, God said, “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.” This ironically is how we are sheltered in God. Not by hiding out in fear, but staying home because our hearts are breaking seeing the sacrifices that others, and we ourselves, are making to care for one another.

We are called to shelter in God as we shelter in place, not as a frightened posture of cowering, but as a determined action of self-giving love. This love empowered Jesus to give his life on Good Friday. This love is what God the Father utilized to resurrect Christ Jesus this night. This love emboldened Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to go see the tomb that God made empty and to share this good news with others.

Still, we may feel like we are sitting in the darkened tomb, as our hearts of stone break for those whom we lose. Even here though, maybe especially here, we are united with Christ and soon we will feel the bright glow of the resurrection light breaking upon us. So tonight may shelter in place as an act of love for one another, but always may shelter in God through Christ’s unconditional, eternal, and limitless love. Amen.

Friday, April 10, 2020

God's Friday



The empty nave of All Saints, Birmingham, AL
 © Seth Olson 2020
April 10, 2020—Good Friday

Lord, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be cunning enough to know the same. Amen.

Today is Good Friday. It is a day when the Church typically huddles close together, hears the story of Our Savior’s death, and prays for the salvation of the world. Of all the services of the entire Church Year, it may be the most stark, bare, and bleak. Today is Good Friday, but in the midst of a Global Pandemic, yesterday felt like Good Friday, and the day before, and the day before that too. And, even though tomorrow night at the Easter Vigil we will unleash our prayers and praises of God who triumphs over death, tomorrow may very well feel like Good Friday, and I suspect even Easter morning too.

The fact that the Church is not physically gathered together on this day shatters my heart into a million pieces. It breaks my heart—it stops me up short. So, I know not what brought you here, what caused you to tune into this service, if you always come, if you were curious about this service, or if you are heartbroken like me, but whatever brought you, please know that this is a safe place for you. And if you are falling apart know that I am right there with you. This is a safe haven in which we can see the crumbling reality of our world and feel the brokenness of where we are.

Even though it is probably not the healthiest thing given the state of my heart, soul, and mind, I keep reading firsthand accounts from doctors and nurses and health experts. I keep listening to stories of what is happening to people of all ages, nations, races, and creeds—there aren’t enough masks, gowns, gloves, and shields to protect our front-line healthcare workers. There are not enough tests to determine where and to whom COVID-19 is spreading. Many families with school-aged children are now forced to balance teaching and working at the same time. Students are distance learning and grieving the loss of so many things to which they were looking forward. Others who live alone may be feeling more isolated than they previously did.

And, some people have lost their livelihoods, their loved ones, and maybe even their own lives sometimes in the same week. These stories describe the awful time through which we are living, a dismal reality that many of us were not acquainted with just a few weeks ago.

Pain, illness, suffering, sorrow, anguish, loss, grief, dying, and death are nothing new. We just have not all experienced these challenging life circumstances simultaneously as an entire planet, at least not in quite some time. Maybe we have never gone through this, on this scale, to this extent. But, God has.

God’s Son, Christ Jesus suffered. He experienced pain, sorrow, and anguish; he dealt with loss and grief, dying, and even death. In the Passion Narrative we just heard a follower betrayed Jesus into the hands of the powerful who wished to stop Jesus’ movement of love. Jesus’ chief disciple denied him three times before the sun rose on this day long ago. Most of the rest of his followers deserted him, while those in power tossed Jesus back and forth until he was beaten, mocked, and hung from a painful torture device, which was meant not only to kill but to humiliate in the process.

Audaciously, we still call this day Good Friday. And, maybe it is good, though not simply because of what lies ahead—not only because of what we hope will happen next in the story, nor what we trust God will do in the end. This day is good because on it, Jesus showed us the ultimate response to all that is broken in this world, in our communities, and in ourselves.

We so often refer to God as almighty, but today we see in Jesus that God is not only almighty, but also all-vulnerable. Jesus the Christ through whom all things were made was not celebrated, revered, or even recognized by his own creation. He came into the world and the world comprehended him not. If God were only almighty, we may expect vengeance from the cross, but that was not the way Jesus expressed strength. Instead, he drew all things to himself through complete self-emptying. Thus, our Savior was installed not at a capitol adorned with marble stone, or on a throne forged of gold, but on a cross hewn of wood. But this was not the only time Jesus displayed this self-giving love.

When throughout Jesus’ life he cared for those who were forgotten, isolated, or outcast he showed this love. When he healed the disabled, fed the hungry, and hung out with the wrong crowd, he modeled this love. When at the Last Supper Jesus knelt to wash the filth from his disciples’ feet, he revealed this love. When he commanded his friends to love one another just as he loved them, this love, my friends, is what Jesus meant. This love, this self-emptying love makes Good Friday good. We hear of this love in words that we have frequently been praying in Morning Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace.”[1]

Today as we stare up at Jesus hanging on the cross, we observe the love that God has for each one of us. We see it as Jesus’ arms extend towards all of humanity. Even as our vision gets obscured during this time of brokenness, isolation, and anxiety always God’s love shines upon us.

This love beams down not only as a way for God to right some eternal wrong committed by us human beings, but also as a different way for us to walk into the future. As one wise teacher put it, God’s love from the cross is not merely atonement, righting a wrong, but also at-one-ment. That is Jesus bringing all things together as one—drawing the whole world into his loving embrace.[2] Through Jesus we see the size, scope, and magnitude of God’s love, which does not magically end the pain of this world, the coronavirus pandemic, or the inevitable truth of death. Rather, in Jesus’ Passion we ultimately see that God the Almighty willingly gets down on our level, suffers with us, and even dies, as the most vulnerable one.

God unites with us. And, in God’s unity with our own brokenness we see something clearly. We observe strangely that this day is good. However, it may not have always been called Good Friday.

This day was once called God’s Friday. It was God’s day to express the primacy of love, to show us what ultimate love looks like. Somewhere along the way, like so many phrases within the English language, the phrase was mispronounced, and God became good.[3] While this day is good, right now it feels more helpful for us to call it God’s Day. And, on God’s day we are invited to embrace our vulnerability and to live in radical, unconditional love. But, this isn’t always easy.

This last month has essentially felt like one long Good Friday. It is as if we have been stuck not on Groundhog’s Day, but on this day. What if though we shift from nonstop Good Friday to everyday being God’s day? Wouldn’t that transform something within us? Every day is truly God’s Day. I know Church scholars out there will argue that the Lord’s Day is Sunday, but right now all these days are running together anyway. So, why not think of everyday as God’s Day? Because every day God is here with us.

Every day is God’s Day because there is not a moment we experience in life in which Christ is not living with us. Christ Jesus experiences our pain, illness, suffering, sorrow, anguish, loss, grieving, dying, and death with us because he was well acquainted with these in his own life. This day, this Good Friday, which is truly God’s Day, was the day when God forever united Godself and us. God through Jesus destroyed all separation that exists between earth and heaven, us and God, divinity and humanity.

Today is Good Friday, but if tomorrow or the next day feels like Good Friday remember that every day is God’s day. Remember that every day God overcomes anything and everything between God and us. Remember that every day Our Almighty God freely becomes the All-Vulnerable One living with us, suffering with us, and even dying with us. And for that, thanks be to God.




[1]The Episcopal Church. The Book of Common Prayer. New York: Church Publishing, 1979, 101.
[2] Rohr, Richard. Center for Action and Contemplation. October 12, 2016. https://cac.org/nonviolent-atonement-one-ment-2016-10-12/ (accessed April 5, 2020).
[3] “Who, What, Why: Why is Good Friday called Good Friday?” BBC Magazine Monitor. April 18, 2014. https://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-magazine-monitor-27067136 (accessed April 10, 2020).