Sunday, April 28, 2024

I Am the Vine, You Are the Branches


"I am the vine, you are the branches." This is the only I am statement in John, which has a you are clause with it.

 

Acts 8:26-40

Psalm 22:24-30

1 John 4:7-21

John 15:1-8


© 2024 The Rev. Seth Olson
 


Holy One, 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.

 

Every Monday morning from 10 to 11 A.M. for almost three years of my life I sat in a gorgeous office. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with volumes on Theology, Contemplative Prayer, Holy Scripture, Fishing, and Canoe Building. Gigantic peach, tan, and cream sandstone blocks lined the exterior of the office, and several picture windows provided views of the outside world—where students were walking to class. From where I sat, I gazed upon the dogwood and Japanese maple trees sitting outside—ever changing with the seasons. Inside the office, something else was changing.

 

The 10 o’clock Monday morning meetings were with my mentor—Sewanee’s University Chaplain the Rev. Tom Macfie. At the time, I was the university’s lay chaplain, so we talked about our shared work, and he guided me through conversations about discernment. While God had called me in many other times and places, it was there in that office that I felt God confirming my call to ordained ministry through the support of a guiding presence. Of course, this sort of careful listening can also reveal truths that I did not want to see.

 

Many Monday mornings, Tom and I spoke of our prayer practices. A trend emerged after about a year of working together. Every few weeks one of us mentioned that our daily prayer practices were going GREAT! It was not necessarily a boast, but it was not always humble either. Almost always the next week that person would have to admit that the same prayer practices had faltered. At first, neither Tom nor I thought much about it, but overtime an insight emerged.

 

Seeing this pattern—solid prayer time, humble bragging, and a resulting setback—we noticed in this theme God inviting us not to give up, but to go deeper, or perhaps better put, to be deeper. Today, Jesus tells us that every branch that bears fruit the Father prunes to make it bear more fruit. Our life with God, our prayer practices, and our walk of Faith possess both growth and pruning, so that we may bear more fruit. And yet, through the ups and downs of life what matters most is not success or failure, but instead abiding with God, being with God as God is with us.

 

This challenges us. We often think in terms of growth. Ponder for a moment your career, your knowledge base, or your retirement portfolio over the course of time. What does that ideally look like? It may appear as a line with an arrow pointing up into the future. Now, maybe this is how we envision growth happening, however most of life does not develop in this way. Why is that? Because that is not how we grow!

 

There’s a helpful concept from the Living Compass—a training that develops holistic wellness in the lives of individuals and congregations. This wisdom is the J-Curve. When we yearn to grow, often we do well at first, then we experience a setback, if we stick with it, usually we grow. This pattern largely takes the shape of a J. What about in our lives of prayer? I know for me this shape is mostly true when measured in time and intentionality. However, there’s a deeper truth here too.

 

God abides with us more intimately than we will ever perceive, know, or can even imagine. How can one track growing closer to the One who is closer to us than ourselves? At the same time, God exists more transcendently beyond us than we can fathom. Having a relationship with God who dwells in and beyond us will leave us baffled. This means that our relationship with the Divine does not track easily, like a linear graph, which means we cannot expect that relationship to grow exponentially.

 

During times when we presume that we’re responsible for our closeness with God, we often fail, as I learned during those meetings with Tom. When we come to church, take time to pray, give to God’s work in the world, and serve our neighbors, then we may think we get a gold star, like a child might for attending Sunday School. We mistakenly believe we are the reason our spiritual life is trending upward. The Book of Proverbs reminds us that pride goes before destruction. Even here though, there is good news: not in the pride, but in the pruning.

 

New fruit comes from God’s pruning—perhaps you learned this more clearly during the last four years. During difficult moments when we choose to live in the love of Christ, God stimulates growth. Our spiritual lives, our life in Christ, will not emulate a line graph, but rather the messiness of garden. There will be dirt. There will be sunny days. There will be downpours. There will be heat. There will be growth. There will be weeding. And all the while we will be tempted to figure out exactly where we are, like I tried to do during those sessions with Tom, but that is not what God calls us to do.

 

God doesn’t call us to do at all. What God calls us into is abiding. In each of the readings for today we discover this true task of our lives. It is not for us to quantify or score how well we are relating to God. Rather in each of these readings we hear the call to abide in God and God’s love, as God and God’s love abide in us. 

 

The Ethiopian eunuch whom Philip baptized in Acts did not simply read Holy Scripture. He felt the Holy Spirit drawing him to abide in God more deeply. When he saw water, he yearned to dwell in the life of Christ, so Philip baptized him. 

 

In this Psalm, the author desired to praise God in the great assembly. All are called to dwell in God. All are called to remember the Lord. Even those asleep in the earth shall bow down in worship. For all of our souls, like the author’s, shall live for God, as we abide in God.

 

The Letter from John, one which we often read at the Blessing and Celebration of a Marriage, reminds us that God is love and we are God’s beloveds. Our lives are to be solely focused on living out of this beloved/loving state. However, because of the association with marriage we may only focus on the emotion of love. John though tells us this love encompasses something even more tremendous than the feeling of love. God loved us first. God loves us fully. God loves us eternally. When we abide in this love, throughout life and especially during difficult times, we will emanate this same love to others.

 

John’s Gospel account seals this life-long call to live in the love of Christ with an analogy. Here we find the only “I am” statement in John that comes with a “you are” clause attached. “I am the vine, you are the branches.” We bear fruit not on our own, nor by our merit, nor by working harder, but by living together in Christ. While other bits of John’s Gospel account grab more attention, this challenge to abide in God resonates so powerfully to the Church of today. 63 times throughout his letters and his Gospel account this word abide appears. We would do well to proclaim this more often. Why?

 

We live in a world that obsesses over productivity or rather what we produce—not unlike what I was thinking at those Monday morning meetings. Our society tells us, it is up to you to have a good life. And sadly, the Church follows suit. It is up to me to earn my way into God’s grace, God’s love, and God’s heavenly kingdom. So, we hear things like you must go to church, pray every day, and avoid sin. We even hear that if you do not believe you will go to hell. Being a follower of Christ Jesus was not, is not, nor will it ever be about doing something to earn the love of God. God already loves you. God abides in you no matter what. You cannot hit a higher mark on this line graph. Instead, we are called to recognize what is already present.

 

God loved us first. Through the love of Christ—seen in his life, death, and resurrection—we observe the depth of God’s love for us. That is why we are so beloved. And, as we exist as God’s beloveds we are called to share this same life-giving love with others. It’s not about saying a certain prayer—it’s about reflecting what’s already there!

 

May we always remember that we are God’s beloved branches, connected to Christ our vine. When we face challenges, setbacks, and pruning may we recognize new growth, which will follow. And most of all, may we abide in Christ and reflect his life-giving love, which made us and makes us whole. Amen.

Sunday, April 21, 2024

Bad Shepherds and the Good Shepherd

  

I'm not the Good Shepherd, but I work for the guy.

Acts 4:5-12

1 John 3:16-24

John 10:11-18

Psalm 23

 

©2024 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen. 

 

Our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has popularized a phrase that I bet you’ve heard before: “If it’s not about love, it’s not about God.” This is an example of a very old method of talking about God, called apophatic theology. Speaking not in positive statements about God—like God is good—but instead saying only those things, which we are certain do not pertain to the perfectness of God is the practice of apophatic theology. 

 

Using this method, I want to talk about Jesus, our Good Shepherd on this Good Shepherd Sunday. However, let’s be a bit creative on this rainy Sunday when using our theological imagination. Today, I want us to dream about our Good Shepherd Jesus not as a First Century paragon spiritual sheep herd, nor as a modern-day exemplary pastor, but instead as the complete opposite. And, to do this may we draw upon the modern day “prophet” David Letterman, formerly of the Late Show. So, here are the Top 10 Ways to be a bad shepherd:

 

10. Starting every vestry meeting with 30 minutes of silent meditation.

9. Saying to a grieving family at a funeral planning meeting, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do the funeral at that time because my fantasy football team is playing then.”

8. Teaching an Augustine of Hippo Christian Education class entitled, “My Confessions: The True Life Tales of A Pastor Before He Met Jesus”

7. Forgetting your microphone is hot when you start having an argument with yourself about who is the greatest parishioner.

6. Instead of using the Book of Common Prayer, siding with a bridezilla‘s desire to write her own vows, which include a line about how her husband will spend every Monday night watching ABC’s the Golden Bachelor with her.

 

 

5. Wearing a purple bishop’s shirt around your home and making your family refer to you as the Righteous Reverend of Narnia.

4. Doing anything to upset the Episcopal mafia a.k.a. your altar guild. Remember: they run the Church. (Forget about it!) 

3. Starting and ending your sermons with the catch all prayer, “Roll Tide!” or “War Eagle!”

2. Using the clergy discretionary fund to go on a shopping spree for all new and completely unnecessary clergy apparel. 

1. The number one way to be a bad shepherd is… well, hold on a minute!

 

As funny as some of these are, there is a sad kernel of truth that runs through each of them. Hidden in the background of the 10th Chapter of John’s Gospel account about the Good Shepherd are words from the prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel and Jesus were concerned not only with describing God as the Good Shepherd, but also with the apophatic practice of pointing out the bad shepherds too. 

 

As Ezekiel described them these were shepherds who had “not strengthened the weak...healed the sick...bound up the injured...brought back the strayed...sought the lost, but with force and harshness [had] ruled them” (34:4). Bad shepherds—sadly enough—are not characters confined to ancient history. Painfully, we know examples that are not humorous, but heart-wrenching. We can think of church leaders who have been bad shepherds, teachers who have caused us pain, priests who have violated our trust, and pastors who have scattered the flock. We may wonder why this happens.

 

The Quaker thinker and author Parker Palmer, in his great little book Let Your Life Speak, borrows a line from the Sufi mystic Rumi that surgically cuts to a deep and painful truth—a truth that gets at answering this question of why. “If you are here unfaithfully with us, you’re causing terrible damage.” Palmer adds on, “If we are unfaithful to [our] true self we will extract a price from others. We will make promises we cannot keep, build houses from flimsy stuff, conjure dreams that devolve into nightmares, and other people will suffer—if we are unfaithful to our true self.”  This is the apophatic description of the Good Shepherd. 

 

Here’s how we might say it more positively: The Good Shepherd gives to others. The Good Shepherd keeps promises. The Good Shepherd builds houses that last. The Good Shepherd conjures dreams that grow. The Good Shepherd takes away suffering. The Good Shepherd is faithful. These words are so beautiful—and yet, sometimes in the Church we get all of this mixed up.

 

As your pastor I am called to not be the bad shepherd, to not be the hireling, but I am also not the Good Shepherd. We are getting closer to the number one way to be a bad shepherd, but first, let’s clarify what we mean by good.

 

The Greek word that we so casually throw around as good, doesn’t mean good as we commonly use it—a quality to be desired or approved of. The original word here (kalos) means model, example. The model shepherd. Jesus is the Good Shepherd, as in the exemplary shepherd, the one we are to follow, which gets us to numero uno on the list!

 

The number one thing that makes a good priest into a bad shepherd is thinking that we are the Good Shepherd. I am not the Good Shepherd. I am not called to be the Good Shepherd. None of us are. But, to help clarify this whole Good Shepherd thing let us consult the classic film Home Alone.

 

Now, you may recall that Kevin McAllister—played by the exquisite Macaulay Culkin—gets left at home alone by his family. Kevin survives pretty well for a couple of days, but soon wants nothing more than to be surrounded by his family again. So on Christmas Eve, Kevin finds a mall Santa who is smoking a cigarette with his fake beard halfway off his face, and he says, “I know you’re not the real Santa…but I also know you work for him.” This mall santa is my part and yours too. I am not the Good Shepherd, but I work for the guy, and so do you!

 

This week we had a vestry meeting in which everyone thought it was hilarious that I keep pointing out when the Celebration of New Ministry is, as though this is my grand event. It is not! Lionel Mitchell—the Liturgical Theologian—makes clear that holy moments like ordinations and Celebrations of New Ministry are not coronations for clergy, but are the celebration of our ministry together as the Body of Christ.  

 

We are all part of the ministry of the Good Shepherd, which means all of us are called to follow the example of the model shepherd Jesus. All of us are called to strengthen the weak, heal the sick, bind up the injured, bring back the strayed, and seek the lost. All of us are called to give to others, keep promises we make, build houses that last, conjure dreams that grow, take away suffering, and remain faithful. All of us are called to follow our model shepherd. 

 

Beloveds, this means that though we be people with unclean lips we say to God, “here am I, send me!” This means that we go with our exemplary shepherd into the valley of the shadow of death. This means that we protect the vulnerable lambs, feed the hungry sheep, and go in search of any lost members of the flock. This means that we follow our model shepherd even in laying down our lives.


May we remember who we are and whose we are. We follow an exemplary shepherd. Let us follow in his way. Amen.

Sunday, April 7, 2024

FOMO Thomas


 

Are you curious enough to leave the door open? May love (not fear) be your guide.

Acts 5:27-32

Psalm 150

Revelation 1:4-8

John 20:19-31

 

The Rev. Seth Olson © 2022

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

 

FOMO—have you heard of this? Fear OMissing Out

 

Maybe you are rolling your eyes at such a funny sounding ailment, but it is a real thing. This pervasive anxiety particularly haunts those younger generations living among us. A rock concert sounds awesome, but what if an even more awesome comedian comes to town the same night? Sure, dinner with a friend is cool, but what if another friend is throwing a party at the same time? Going to church on the Second Sunday of Easter is great, but what about brunch? 

 

All joking aside, fear can be so crippling that it paralyzes our decision-making abilities. If you think taking a walk down the cereal aisle causes mild paralysis by analysis, a younger generation raised on technology feels this whenever they are seemingly disconnected. If we polled all our generation Z members about their feelings when they are away from their phones, I imagine they would name fear as one the primary emotions and particularly a fear of missing out without this connecting device. FOMO is real, and it is not anything new. 

 

In today’s Gospel, Thomas had FOMO, but he came by it honestly! Thomas missed the Resurrected Jesus. He had a legitimate case of FOMO. If everyone here but you met Dolly Parton, wouldn’t you be upset? Now imagine it’s not Dolly Parton, but instead the Resurrected Christ! Would you not also have FOMO? And, in this sadness of missing such a profound encounter, would you not ask for proof of what your friends were telling you? 

 

Now Thomas had a track record of asking probing questions. On the night before Jesus died, the teacher assured his disciples that they knew the way to the Father’s house. Thomas wondered what everyone else was thinking, “How can we know the way?” Jesus responded with a beautiful, enigmatic challenge: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Jesus’ words harkened back to when God from the burning bush said to Moses, “I AM who I AM.” Meaning: God is presence itself. God who was with us, is with us, will always “be” with us. Jesus subtly dropped this into his response to Thomas’ question, I am the way, the truth, and the life.

 

In this exchange it was not that Thomas was doubting Jesus, he was curious, like the rest of the disciples, but he was courageous (or foolish) enough to verbalize what they could not. The same thing happened in today’s Gospel story. Thomas voiced something important, not just for those disciples, but for all of us who did not see the Risen Lord on that Easter evening. He was wondering something we wonder in our own day, “Is this fake news? Or is it real? Can I trust this?” 

 

“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe,” Thomas exclaimed upon missing Jesus. Thomas was not going to give himself over to the idle tales he was hearing. He wanted to experience this for himself. We may think of this as doubting, but it was more than that. 

 

Thomas appeared unable to give himself fully over to what the others had felt in this Sunday evening communion with the Risen Christ. Unlike the other disciples, Thomas had been by himself during this Resurrection encounter. The Resurrection is something we experience not in isolation, but in communion with one another—the brave women at the tomb experienced Easter together, the disciples in the Upper Room too, and isn’t this true of us, too? Thomas, though did not get this gift, so reasonably enough he felt the pains of missing out (POMO). 

A week later, that is on another Sunday, another First Day of the Week, another Resurrection Day, today in truth, Jesus returned. This time, the disciples were not locked in fear, even if the doors were shut. Jesus showed himself to all the disciples, and to Thomas, in particular. Thomas’ response to seeing the Risen Lord demands our attention.

 

Thomas had yearned to put his hand in Jesus’ wounds, to touch the marks of these scars, but as soon as he witnessed the Risen Lord that was more than enough. This curious disciple identified who Jesus was, “My Lord and my God.” Since we hear this passage every year and since you faithful ones have showed up on the Second Sunday of Easter (kudos) you may have heard this passage so often that it has lost its provocative impact. Thomas’ words serve as the climax of the entire Good News of Jesus Christ.

 

If we rewind back to the beginning of John, we will remember that this account began with a cosmic hymn about who Jesus was. The Word who was with God, the Word who was God, the Word through whom all things came into being, this Word that the world did not accept, did not know, did not behold, this One who was the light of the world that came into the world, but was not accepted by the world, this One was Jesus. These huge claims about Jesus were made at the very beginning of the Gospel, they unfolded throughout John’s Gospel account, and here at the end of the story they point towards the great hope of this Good News. What is that hope? That someone who was curious about this Jesus person would express the truth of who he was, who he is! That someone would receive this Good News and that it would change their life!

 

Thomas exclaimed this truth and not because he put his hands in Jesus’ side, but because he beheld the Risen Christ in community. He never got his hand into the side of Jesus, nor did he touch Jesus’ wounds. Instead, Thomas recognized the truth. Jesus is “my Lord and my God.” Thomas was the one who articulated the hope of the entire Gospel account in this simple, provocative, and powerful phrase. To this day, some people even remind themselves of this paramount truth as they receive communion—taking hold of the body of Christ while saying, “My Lord and my God.”

 

The realization that Thomas had though was not simply for himself. Thomas after all is not this disciple’s real name. His true name was Judas, and no not that Judas. Like how Jesus gave Simon the nickname of Peter, he also gave this Judas the nickname of Thomas. Peter, as you may know means Rock. What does Thomas mean?

 

Thomas is a nickname, which means the Twin. Some scholars wonder if Thomas was literally a twin and perhaps, he got this nickname as a result. Others wonder if because Judas Iscariot and he shared the same name, maybe Jesus gave this Judas the name Twin to distinguish between the two. There is a more mystic understanding though. 

 

I wonder if Thomas’ twin might not be someone inside the Gospel account, but instead someone outside of it. Someone who is looking into the Good News of Christ Jesus, even someone who is hearing these words two thousand years later, in a completely different language, and halfway across the globe. I wonder if you might be Thomas’ twin. I wonder what you share in common with this disciple.

 

Thomas was fearful of missing out.

Thomas wanted to see the evidence before he believed.

Thomas was curious.

Does this sound familiar?

Thomas’ understanding that Jesus was Lord and God served as the climax of the whole Gospel—and you having this insight yourself is the whole point of this story. 

 

You are—we are the other half of this twinship. Whether you are brand new to Holy Apostles or you have been here since its founding—all of us are part of this story. We yearn to be witnesses of Resurrection in our lives. When we are not part of this community of the Risen Lord we may have FOMO, but for good reason. Thomas doubted in fearful isolation, but he believed in beloved community. He serves as a curious example for us who yearn to take hold of the Risen Christ not in our hands, but in our hearts. Our reception of Jesus as Lord and God is the climax of the good news. May we behold Jesus in beloved community, just like Thomas.