The Foolishness of Preaching

Foolishness is an unlimited resource!

While I had every intention of preaching this sermon today at St. John's, Decatur a stomach bug hit my household and unfortunately this sermon will only be given electronically. The text which inspired today's sermon was 1 Corinthians 1:18-31 and in particular, "20 Where are the wise? Where are the legal experts? Where are today’s debaters? Hasn’t God made the wisdom of the world foolish? 21 In God’s wisdom, he determined that the world wouldn’t come to know him through its wisdom. Instead, God was pleased to save those who believe through the foolishness of preaching."

Foolishness is an unlimited resource. On Friday mornings when I am nearby a television I often find myself glued to ESPN, so that I can see Sportscenter’s “Not Top 10” list where (mostly) professional athletes crash and burn mightily. Sometimes it is a botched handoff in football, an errant throw from the outfield in baseball, or a superstar basketball player missing an easy layup or dunk. Of course, athletes do not have a monopoly on foolishness.

Politicians do not often find themselves unified on any issue, but it is hard not to see foolishness as a bipartisan affair. A former Republican Texas Governor infamously forgot the third agency he would cut if he were elected President of the United States. (Ironically enough he now serves as the head of the Department of Energy, which oversees the EPA—allegedly that third agency he forgot.) Not to be outdone, in the 2004 Presidential Election a former Democratic governor of Vermont, destroyed his entire campaign with a single un-presidential yell. Although athletes and politicians often seem daft, with their mistakes shining brightly in the spotlight, foolishness distinguishes itself as a trait that crosses all career paths and walks of life.

Simply typing in “Fail” on YouTube yields 75,900,000 videos. I did not have time to watch all of them, but suffice it to say the list of fools stretches to all walks of humanity: parents, children, news anchors, weightlifters, kite surfers, drivers, organists, and even a few preachers. Of course, I do not think this is what Paul had in mind when he wrote to the church in Corinth long ago. The version of 1 Corinthians we heard today was from the Common English Bible, a translation which we are utilizing throughout Holy Week. And, the words Paul wrote to the Church in Corinth struck me more profoundly in this different version.

Paul wrote, “In God’s wisdom, he determined that the world wouldn’t come to know him through its wisdom. Instead, God was pleased to save those who believe through the foolishness of preaching.” Paul was not speaking about foolish preachers who smash television sets with baseball bats, accidentally start their sermon by saying “Satan gave me this message!” or by crashing over in a casket as a sermon illustration. Yes, these all actually happened. Paul though was talking about how the world perceives the message that we as a people preach. And, just like in his own day, the message that we share so often sounds foolish to our surrounding society.

“The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are being destroyed. But it is the power of God for those of us who are being saved.” As we continue this journey of Holy Week walking with Jesus toward the cross that is ahead, we may wonder and worry about what lies ahead. Society around us tempts us to walk not in the direction of the cross with its suffering and shame, but instead towards comfort and convenience. Seeing the journey that Jesus walked seems to all the world like foolishness. But, to those of us who proclaim Christ crucified as our King, our Lord, and our God we see that way not as foolish, but wise.

As we look back on the life of Jesus we can easily say that we would have been wise enough to walk with him, but what about in our own day? If we knew nothing of who Jesus was and saw a man peacefully speaking the Truth of God’s reign to those in power we might very well shout to him, “Be quiet! You’ll get yourself killed.” With hindsight we may believe we know what God’s wisdom looks like, but can we see it in our own day? Will we proclaim it today? Will we preach it this week?

The world says, God foolishly sent Christ Jesus into a violent world, what did you think would happen? But, God’s foolishness outshines the wisdom of this world. All technology, economy, and academia cannot possess the foolish wisdom that God showed us in Christ Jesus. God's love endures, even as we act like fools. That is the wild message that we continue to preach as we walk together with Jesus to the cross. This is what captivated Paul long ago too.

When Paul wrote to that startup church in Corinth he was extending Jesus' invitation to walk with Christ toward the cross all the time, not just during Holy Week. The Roman cross stood out as a destructive torture device meant not only to kill but to humiliate. Paul and so many others foolishly (according to the world) followed Jesus on the way of the cross, and these followers have found their own crosses literally and figuratively. And yet, during all those times when what seemed so foolish to the world played out over time, God’s wisdom (of loving all) persisted. Even now we may believe that God is foolish to extend love to someone or some people, but we would be foolish to hold onto that belief. Instead, may we be fools for Jesus as we walk with him carrying our own crosses as we go.

Even Death on a Cross

The portion of Paul’s letter to the Philippians, which we read today, offers for us a profound challenge: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” How are we—mere mortals—supposed to have the same mind as Jesus the Christ had?

As I think more about having the mind of Christ the task becomes exponentially more difficult. To me it seems easier to think of the ways that would be ineffective at having the same mind as Christ. How might we not be like Christ? Well, we can rule out committing the deadly sins and breaking the Ten Commandments, but then we get into some trickier territory. Thinking good thoughts always seems like a good idea, but then not acting on our good intentions is part of the pavement on the way to hell. What may be even worse though is believing that it is up to us to act our way into being like Christ.

For us to be like Christ we cannot simply think our way into this state, nor can we act our way into having the mind of Christ. In actuality, we may be overthinking all of this. The first word in this reading is let, as in let it happen because the Spirit is already at work. Is that it? Are we just passive blobs like amoeba sitting on a log? I do not think so, I believe we do have a part to play. The way for God’s Spirit to transform not only our minds but also the rest of our innermost and outermost comes in a most countercultural way: death.

Last night I saw a documentary about the band the Avett Brothers. They are a great folk/songwriter band from North Carolina who create music that has depth and soul uncommon for our age. I commend your listening to their albums. At one point one of the members of the Avett Brothers made an offhand comment about how everyone thinks their songs are morbid because simply put they are not afraid to talk about or rather sing about death. Apparently writing about loss and death, instead of wild nights and finding love in this day and age invites criticism.

No one really likes talking about death, but somehow at least from my perspective, some death is easier to think about than others. A well-lived life of eighty, ninety, or a hundred years often does not bear the same sadness as a life cut far short. The end of a struggle with a debilitating disease feels easier for us to bear than seeing someone pass tragically in the blink of an eye. How much more would the death of a beloved friend or family member strike us? How much more would the death of a beloved leader shake us? How much more would we be transformed by the death of not just a leader, teacher, or friend, but the death of God who came to save us by being with us?

These beautiful words from Paul’s letter do not simply invite us into living like Christ, they invite us into dying like him. Christ who became incarnate in Jesus did not regard his godly nature as something to be exploited rather, he emptied himself and was born as a lowly human being—a human being acquainted with poverty, oppression, and suffering. This life though was not the end of the story, it was only the beginning—or rather the continuation of what God has always been doing. We may not like to speak about it, but on this day—Holy Cross Day—we are drawn into this moment when Jesus not only endured death, but even death on a cross. So why is this so important and what does it have to do with letting Christ’s mind be in us?

For us to let our entire lives be transformed by Christ, for us to let the same mind be in us as was in Christ Jesus we are called to our own crosses and to our own deaths—not just literal crosses and deaths, but every form that these sufferings take. Now, as the Avett Brothers remind us no one likes talking about death—especially death on a cross. As strange as it sounds though, seeking our own crosses is a prerequisite for living as a Christian. Yes, God will always love us, but living as a follower of Christ does not mean that we point to Jesus’ death and keep on going the same as we always have. Nor can we call ourselves Christians if merely think that all our screw-ups are covered in some cosmic insurance policy. That is not life in Christ—that is not letting the same mind be in us as was in Christ Jesus.

Christ Jesus came to show us that the ways that had always been no longer worked. That sacrificial violence does not work anymore. Even though they crucified God Incarnate, God still lived. We cannot scapegoat the problems out of our lives, like previous generations tried to do. We cannot avoid the problems of our lives, like we may be prone to do. Nor, can we otherwise try to weasel our way out of our own issues. Instead, we are required to do the hard work and heavy lifting of picking up our own crosses. This means turning inside and seeing what it is that needs to die so that God may resurrect it. This means inviting God to be in us. This means that through us God can turn violence, disaster, famine, and all other suffering in this world into a source of God’s healing redemption. For us to have the same mind as Christ we must start by seeking out our own crosses, lifting them up, and walking with Jesus not away from hardship, but towards it!

x

Solving For “X”

Algebra was my favorite math class. Spatially I did not have the gift to imagine shapes in Geometry. Trigonometry never quite agreed with my brain. Algebra though—that was my sweet spot! Theoretical enough to excite my inquisitive nature and straightforward enough not to make my head hurt. I still recall the strange pleasure of solving for “X” on some particularly difficult questions in the pressure moment of a final exam. You may be thinking this guy is a nerd—and while you are quite correct—we need a little bit of algebra to understand today’s Gospel lesson. Stick with me, I promise I will make it easier—and maybe even a little more fun—than math class.

Let’s start with something easy. 2 + X = 4. To solve this one we try to isolate the X to one side of the equation, so we do this by subtracting 2 from both sides. In this case we discover that X = 2. You probably did not need any algebraic training to tell you that that 2 + 2 = 4. Still it is a useful skill when we happen upon a problem like today’s Gospel. It seems we have the end of an answer, but we are missing a component that leads us to that answer. To put it into algebraic language: Jesus + Suffering = X. To discover the answer we actually have to link back to last week’s Gospel lesson.

In the previous text, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you all say that I am?” Peter boldly replied, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Ding! Ding! Ding! Peter got it right, at least in that moment he did. As we turn the page over to today’s story, which picks up soon after Peter’s affirmation, we find that this disciple is taking Jesus aside saying, “God forbid [you undergo suffering or death]! This must never happen to you.” Jesus recoiled at his disciple like a venomous viper, “Get behind me Satan. You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” Why such anger Jesus? What gives? The answer lies in our algebra problem.

Jesus + Suffering = X. The X is already on one side of the equation by itself, but what Peter was trying to do was remove the suffering from Jesus. What may in fact be missing from the equation is not just what the “X” stands for, but also the other elements of what lay ahead of Jesus. Jesus not only was to undergo suffering, but also death and eventually after three days resurrection. Jesus + Suffering + Death + Resurrection = X. Peter actually already solved the problem for us last week. “X” equals Messiah. The trouble is that what Peter wanted to do was not find the missing figure, but rather do away with all that would lead to Jesus’ Messiahship.

Earlier this week when our staff read this lesson together, our financial administrator astutely pointed out that Peter gets a bad rap in this story. Peter really just wanted what he thought was best for his teacher. If things had been different, if those in the world at the time—human beings obsessed with power, pleasure, and privilege; people not unlike us—if those in the world had accepted Jesus, his teachings, and his identity as the Son of God Peter’s desire would not have conflicted with Jesus’ mission!

This makes me wonder, “Could God have done things differently?” Of course, this is God we are talking about here! And yet, this is not what happened. Humans and particularly the powers of the day—religious, political, social, and otherwise—did not accept Jesus’ identity. And so, God’s plan of salvation could not be so easily achieved. Jesus could not just heal, feed, and teach things like, “God loves you. And if God loves you, you are now free to love God and one another.” Instead, the way Jesus lived into his true identity—redeemer of the world—lead down a different path.

For God to show that God truly loves us human beings no matter what something else, some other variable, had to arise. This variable was so shocking that even the person who saw Jesus’ true identity—Peter who knew the answer—could not handle it. The most audacious, most profound, and most clear sign of God’s love came in what Jesus pointed to in today’s Gospel lesson—the Cross.

The Cross was not merely a sign of God’s love for us, it was not only an example of God’s love for us, it was not just some act that God did for us, nor is it some magical device we use to escape all our problems today. No, the Cross is something different. The Cross was, is, and will be the only way. Now, before you shut off and think all I am saying is we are bad and we need God to save us—which is true, but not the whole truth—let me say more.

The Cross is not only about us. It is not just something we flawed human beings did to Jesus and others long ago. This was the way that God chose to love us beyond all else. Jesus willingly faced this betrayal, suffering, and loss. And so, when our lives are so difficult, when we are in the midst of suffering, when we taste pain, feel loss, and inhale death with every breath we do not do this alone. Jesus was crucified once for all, but in so many ways Jesus still chooses to be on the Cross.

Jesus is on the Cross with those suffering in the wake of Hurricane Harvey. Jesus is on the Cross with all those who are facing hatred based upon their color, creed, sexual orientation, gender, or any other attribute. Jesus is on the Cross with all those who suffer from chronic pain, addiction, abuse, violence, or those who suffer for the sake of conscious. Jesus is on the Cross with all those who care for those in need. Jesus is on the Cross with those who put themselves in harm’s way to protect the highest virtues and values of our species. Jesus is on the Cross with the outcasts, the poor, the hungry, and the homeless. Jesus is on the Cross with any and all who suffer.

We may believe that the dilemma set forth last week and this week in Matthew’s Gospel account revolves around the identity of Jesus. We may with the disciples ask, “Is he the Messiah? What type of Messiah is he? What does all this mean?” But this is not the only problem we face. It is not only about Jesus being the Messiah, but also how we respond to this truth.

As Jesus walks with all those who suffer, he invites us to do the same. If we want to save our lives, we will lose them for Christ Jesus’ sake. To do this we must take up our crosses to walk with him—going to the places where all those who suffer reside. Jesus goes ahead of us to the Cross. There he shows us what ultimate love looks like. For us to truly live we must lose our lives by doing like him and bearing our crosses as we follow him.

Crosses on Your Forehead

What do a cross of Chrism and one of ash have in common?

If we could not wash off the Holy water and Chrism oil from Baptism, nor the ashes from today’s liturgy we would notice that we have multiple crosses in precisely the same location on our brows. An almost invisible strand ties together today’s penitential rite and the Christian entry rite. Surprisingly, the service of Holy Baptism begins only 29 pages after the conclusion of the Ash Wednesday service; somehow though, the two feel farther and further apart than that. What binds together these crosses on our foreheads? What ties together the one made of ash and the one marked with oil?

In a few moments, you will be invited to observe a Holy Lent, and then anyone who wishes will come forward. You will be reminded that you are dust and to dust you shall return, and at that same moment burnt up branches from Palm Sundays past will be shaped into the form of a cross on your forehead. In this way, one year’s journey to the Cross fades into the next. And, for many ages Lent, which comes from a word meaning spring, has served as a time when converts blossom into full-fledge members of Christ’s Body. On one side of Lent the ashen cross and on the other at the Great Celebration of Easter the cross of oil, in between was the final formation before the church recognized one as a Christian. Ash Wednesday, Lent, and Holy Baptism, thus have been inextricably linked together, as a time of growth. And yet, is that all this season is about: personal progress?

Lent, if approached haphazardly, shifts into a short-lived season of discipline used for our own purposes of self-importance. When we make Lent a six-week season of “doing good, rather than building a Lent that becomes a life” we miss the mark.[1] As all of us, the novices and the elders alike, begin to walk the Lenten way of the Cross, we would do well to remember that Jesus’ public ministry began not with forty days of piety or self-discipline, but first within the deep, brooding waters of Baptism—waters that call to mind the depths over which God first moved to create. As there is only one Baptism, once baptized we do not enter these waters again, but Lent does allow us to be refreshed and renewed, as we repent and return to God. As we turn to God in this penitential season we may very well see the hidden feature tying Ash Wednesday, Lent, and Baptism together in an unexpected place. For these occasions are as much about death—that is turning away—as they are about new life. Somehow though, death does not play well in our culture.

Death tends to be a topic of which we steer clear at polite social gatherings. We, as a country, are so uncomfortable with death that we spend approximately $20.7 billion a year, so that those in the funeral home industry can deal with death for us.[2] Even though death comes for us all, we attempt to evade it through plans, schemes, and regimes to stay young forever. All of us go down to the dust, and much as we may want to ignore this truth, Ash Wednesday gives us an opportunity to stare death in the face, just like during Holy Baptism. Today we do not dwell morosely on our mortality, but instead as we feel the cross marked on our brows we can realize again the overwhelming reality that even in death we are Christ’s own forever.

When children, youth, and adults are marked in Baptism we tend to focus solely on the new life, but without the often overlooked death that precedes it this rite makes no sense. In Baptism we die, plain and simple. Our individualistic ways are called to cease, as God draws us up into the corporate identity of Christ. We are not just marked as Christ’s own forever, but we become part of the Body by dying to the self. As the Rev. Dr. Will Willimon puts it:

         

The chief biblical analogy for baptism is not the water that washes but the flood that drowns. Discipleship is more than turning over a new leaf. It is more fitful and disorderly than gradual moral formation. Nothing less than daily, often painful, lifelong death will do. So Paul seems to know not whether to call what happened to him on the Damascus Road “birth” or “death”—it felt like both at the same time.[3]

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A Lent following Jesus, not to mention a life following him, cannot be about making ourselves feel good because we do some new discipline or fast for a few weeks each springtime. Jesus, himself makes this clear in the culmination of his Sermon on the Mount, which we hear today. If our reward is based on impressing others because we are merciful, prayerful, or fasting, we are missing the point. Even if we are doing some great spiritual discipline off by our lonesome, if we are doing it for our own benefit, we are missing the point. “What reward are you seeking?” Jesus seems to ask, “An earthly one for your own benefit or a heavenly one that draws you ever closer to God?” Put another way, “Do not be holy because it is what the world expects of you [or even what you think is required of yourself]; rather, learn to live holy lives because a closer relationship to the God who sees in secret will be reward enough.”[4] Die to self, so that Christ may live!

Today, Christ calls us not to immortal greatness, but to ponder our mortal smallness. Remember that not only will we one day die, but also that we have already died in Baptism. The death we die in Baptism brings us into a new life—a life no longer focused on doing new things to prove ourselves worthy to others, to ourselves, or to God. This is Good News! In Lent, then we are free to explore how we may see God living and breathing anew within us.

Churches traditionally sing “Just As I Am” when they baptize folks. It’s a fantastic song, but I am partial to a line Presiding Bishop Michael Curry borrowed from Max Lucado, “God loves us where we are, but God does not intend to leave us where we are.” When we die to ourselves, not just in Lent, but throughout our lives, we experience the transforming power of God’s love. This may happen by getting rid of something that distracts us from seeing God who resides closer to us than our own heartbeat. This may happen by taking on something that focuses us on God who knows us in secret. This Lent, as your brow is marked by a cross of ash remember the other cross marked when you died in Baptism, so that Christ could live within you.

Lent is when new life abounds, for we turn away from a society obsessed with outrunning death and towards the living God who calls us to die to self, so that Christ lives. Lent is when we become less, so that Christ may become all. Let Lent permeate beyond the next 40 days. May we embrace God’s call to turn towards the Lenten path, the Cross, and those Baptismal waters where death and new life meet. May we remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return, so that we may embrace our eternal God.  May we have a holy Lent filled with God’s transforming love that meets us where we are, but brings us into the ultimate life of God.

[1] Anschutz, Maryetta. "Ash Wednesday: Pastoral Perspective." In Feasting on the Word, edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, 20. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2010.

[2] Public Broadcast Service. Homegoings: The Economics of Funerals. June 24, 2013. http://www.pbs.org/pov/homegoings/economics-of-the-funeral-industry/ (accessed February 20, 2017).

[3] Willimon, William. "Repent." In Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter, 9. Walden, NY: Plough Publishing, 2003.

[4] Anschutz, Maryetta. "Ash Wednesday: Pastoral Perspective." In Feasting on the Word, edited by David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, 20. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2010.

No Concept, but a King

The North Rim sits approximately 2,000 feet above the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, so the ecosystem and climate on each side of the chasm differ drastically. While chaperoning a Geology field expedition out west, which explored this wonder of the world, I certainly noticed the difference in weather on the two rims. In late May the South Rim was pleasant with highs in the low 70s; however, on the North Rim the temperatures were down right freezing with heavy snow falling affecting everything from setting up tents to seeing across the canyon. On the last day of this frozen camping failure our fearless leader Dr. Bran Potter, a man who has forgotten more about the earth’s formation than I will ever know, despite the chilly conditions lost his cool. 

 

The students on the trip were packing up their belongings and placing them in the storage trailer, which not only contained all the tents, duffels, and sleeping bags, but also all the cooking equipment and food for the next few days. Diligently some students, Dr. Potter, and I packed up the supplies, as the conditions had already put us behind schedule for our next stop in Southern Utah. Then, a few out-of-touch numbskulls got a not-so-bright idea. They began so innocently tossing snowballs at one another, but pretty quickly their target shifted from those engaging in a snowball fight to those packing up the trailer. When Dr. Potter attempted to back up his van to attach the now-filled-trailer to the tow hitch a snowball narrowly missed his head and exploded off the side view mirror. Now, some people possess such an overwhelming sense of calm about them that when they show any emotion it is so captivating and memorable that one never forgets the encounter, Dr. Potter is one such individual.

As the snowball whizzed past his head he stopped his actions and seemingly everything else around him in the campground did as well. Even though the van was still running it seemed to grow silent and the only thing audible was the near silent noise of snow falling on already accumulating snow. The words that he spoke—not yelled, but firmly articulated toward the culprit with a snowball still in his hand—I will never forget. “You have no concept.” I have often returned to these words, not as an insult, although it is a good one—how can someone come back from being told he has no concept? “Oh yes, I do!” does little to prove that one indeed does have a grasp of the idea at hand—I have returned to Dr. Potter’s words as a humble reminder that I do not know, a lowly mantra for navigating the difficult times and the unanswerable questions.

I have no concept. Perhaps this is not reassuring to hear from your priest. I naively thought that this country was only a little bit divided, but now it seems we are as far apart as the North Rim and the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Since the election fear has bubbled up from beneath the surface, as over 400 hate crimes have been reported, even including racist epithets on the sides of stores, schools, and Episcopal churches. Protestors who claim love and unity as the virtue that guides them have turned hateful and even violent. All my certainty and naivety hide me from the truth that I have no concept of the painful, divisive reality that exists right here. The great thing though about saying I have no concept allows me to step out of a place of knowing the way forward, and perhaps it opens up to me a new opportunity to practice being faithful.

“For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.” These are the words that ended our reading from the Letter to the Colossians. We also heard within that letter, “He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” Paul meant in writing this that Christ tied, ties, and will tie together all things. However, as the Rev. Gay Jennings, the President of the House of Deputies, wrote this week reconciliation may be out of reach and pastorally inappropriate for some people at the moment. When people are scared or angry because of who they are, who they love, where they are from, what religion they practice, or whether or not they went to school we cannot expect that Christ will magically draw us back together in an instant.

Quite often we make a mistake in thinking that the way to unity is through victory over another, but reconciliation comes through the blood of his cross. Jesus was betrayed by his friends and followers, mocked and verbally abused by his religion, tortured by the Roman Empire, made to carry his own instrument of death, crucified, and surrounded by criminals, soldiers, and a hate-filled mob while he died. On the third day he rose from the dead, but somehow we as followers of Jesus do not wear an empty tomb, a sign of victory, around our necks. Instead we revere the cross, the image of defeat! In the darkest moment of his life, Jesus’ words were “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” While I say I have no concept of how we will heal the divisions in this country, what truly baffles me is how Jesus said this in response to all that had happened.

Simone Weil the 20^th Century French mystic described that the world is made up of gravity and grace. Gravity are those laws that govern the world; yes, physics, but also an eye for an eye, you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours, hate for hate, and love for love. Grace though, is different. Grace is non-complimentary behavior: love for hate, pardon for offense, another cheek, a second mile, and prayers for our enemy. Grace is the moment when in the face of an irreconcilable difference we choose the hard road that Jesus walked instead of the easy way of isolation. Grace is the Black Lives Matter protestors and Blue Lives Matter protestors crossing the street to embrace one another and jointly protest the loss of lives. Grace is the congregation that continues to speak love and forgiveness even though the KKK spray painted swastikas and “whites only” on their building. Grace is Jesus reaching out his arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that everyone might come within the reach of his saving embrace (Book of Common Prayer, 101).

 

We are people of grace. Yes, we live in a world of gravity. Yes, drop an apple and it falls. And yes, give to Caesar what is Caesar’s. But, we are not people of gravity, we are people of grace! I may not fully comprehend grace, I have a hard time understanding how Jesus said, “Father, forgive them.” But I do know that the King I will always follow is Christ who even in the face of betrayal, division, and even death wanted nothing more than to draw people together, forgive sinners, and even welcome a criminal into his Kingdom! I may have no concept, but thankfully God does. And, I take great hope in following Christ as my King! I may not have a concept, but I have a King, Christ who reigns now and for ever.

See the Cross Differently!

Perhaps you have heard the quote made famous by Lenny Bruce, “If Jesus had been killed twenty years ago, Catholic school children would be wearing little electric chairs around their necks instead of crosses.” This is shocking falling upon our ears; however, I wonder if we have become too sterilized to the sight of a cross. I mean think about it, when was the last time you were shocked to see a cross? Has this ever even happened to you?

In our Christian-saturated culture in the Southeastern United States we have become immune to the cross. Maybe if one happens upon a Catholic or Anglo-Catholic church with an almost nude Jesus crucified on the cross one might flinch, but otherwise it has simply become an important accessory to wear. However, on this Holy Cross Day we are charged to see the Truth of the Cross: what was an instrument of shameful torture and death has been transformed into a sign and symbol of, and gateway into eternal life.

We remember Holy Cross Day on September 14th as a result of the emperor Constantine and his mother the empress Helena constructing a monumental complex on the site of Calvary, which builders finished on this day in the year 335. What is now the Church of the Holy Speulchre had two distinct buildings: a large basilica used for the Liturgy of the Word and a round church for the Liturgy of the Table. This latter facility, which was merely called “the Resurrection,” had its Altar on the actual place where Jesus’ tomb was believed to be. What an image! The place of death transformed into the table of life! And, while this remembering of the constructing of this facility stands out as significant, what this day bids me to do is to see the Cross differently.

A few times in my life seeing a Cross affected me to my core. When I had my Cursillo crossed put over my head by Bishop Santosh Marray. The time I first served as crucifer when I was a child. And, most strikingly the day I stepped onto the campus of the Seminary of the Southwest where I was trained to be a priest.

Inside Christ Chapel no crosses hang on any walls. Very little, in fact resides on any of the funky asymmetrical insides of that space. Instead, the major feature that the space immediately calls one toward is the east window. Right outside that window sits a gigantic cross. This structure expands from bottom-to-top and the arms reach out to almost hug the viewer. Its three-sided nature ensures that wherever one is on campus the cross faces the seer. When I first saw this cross I was stunned. So many days I pondered how that cross reaching out in all directions calls us to remember how Christ Jesus transformed that shameful torture device into a way of resurrection for all of Creation.

In John’s Gospel for today Jesus could foresee that when he was lifted up he would draw all of Creation to him. On this Holy Cross Day we are drawn close to our Lord who forgave from the Cross, invited a thief into paradise from the Cross, and leads us into a life of Resurrection through that Cross. Jesus calls us to die to ourselves and no longer live for ourselves, but for Christ who died and rose again. It may not be every day that you are surprised by the Cross, but today allow the invitation of the Cross reach into your heart, so that you may die to yourself and live as a servant of Christ.

Janani Luwum: Of Martyrs and Men

An icon of Janani Luwum, martyr and Archbishop of  the Church of Uganda

The stories of the Old Testament, the First Testament, always get me excited to follow God. When I hear about Moses taking God’s People across the Red Sea, or David slinging stones at Goliath, or Daniel in the Lion’s Den my heart races and I want to charge out of Church to take on any foe of the LORD, even if I realize quickly that God really wants no enemies. I get that same butterfly feeling in my stomach hearing today’s lesson from Daniel featuring Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Let’s go out and jump into a pit of fire! RIGHT? COME ON!

When I hear stories about martyred saints though I get another feeling altogether. Those happy butterflies turn into nauseating pterodactyls. The story about the person of God that we celebrate today in the Church is a terrifying and inspiring tale of Faith, valor, and moral fortitude. We remember this day Janani Luwum.

Luwum was born in 1922 in Northern Uganda. He was a teacher and lay reader before being sent to Canterbury (St. Augustine’s) to be trained as an ordained minister. As a priest he served twenty-four congregations for several years, taught at a local theological school, and went back to England for further studies (London College of Divinity). God called him to serve as bishop of Northern Ugandan in 1969. Five years later he was elected Archbishop of Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, and Boga-Zaire. Luwum’s service to the Church stands out as noble; however, what happened once he became Archbishop reflects clearly the light of Christ!

At that time Idi Amin was standing in power as a military dictator in Uganda. Amin ruled brutally over the people. Government troops ransacked a university where Luwum was the chair. After drafting a memorandum of protest against the state-sanctioned practices of rape and murder, the government-military searched Luwum’s home for arms. Amin soon summoned Luwum to his palace. With other Anglican, Catholic bishops, and even Muslim leaders Luwum went to the headquarters of Amin. The dictator accused Luwum of a murderous plot, then let most of the clerics go freely. Luwum was made to stay, and said to his friends, “They are going to kill me. I am not afraid.” Never was he seen alive again, but instead of telling the truth the government lied to its people saying Luwum died in a car accident while resisting arrest. Later his bullet-filled body was given to his family for a proper burial.

The stories of the Old Testament help us to not be afraid walking into the face of danger, opposing those in earthly seats of power. And yet, the story of Christ’s betrayal, torture, crucifixion, and death and that retelling through the martyrs of the Church encourage us to share the Good News even in the face of persecution. Yes, they do not have a neat, tidy, and happy ending. Yes, it seems awfully far-fetched that any of us will die a martyr’s death. Still, Luwum’s story is the story of Jesus. And, we are called in no less a way to make Christ known even in the face of drastic repercussions.

Martyrs teach us again the lesson that Jesus shared from the Cross. We must stand up to oppression of all kinds, but those who die preaching the Good News did not wake up one morning and think, “Today seems like a good day to be a martyr.” No, they had been practicing for this moment for years and years. To be a martyr means that we die, so that Christ might live in us. As Paul wrote to the Galatians, “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” This is the goal, the end for all of us who call ourselves Christians. 

We are called to in small ways let go of our individual selves, so that Christ may live in our stead. Take time each day sacrificing something else, so that you may pray. Carve out moments to dwell in God’s Holy Word. Take opportunities to serve those who are hurting, poor, and hungry in this world. This is the road to martyrdom. Yes, those Old Testament stories teach us not to be afraid, but the stories of martyrs show us the way that each of us must go courageously giving up our selves, so that Christ may be born through us. Be bold, be courageous, sacrifice yourself, so that Christ may live! 

God's Multiplication

From left to right: Dean Cynthia Kittredge, Clay Towles, Seth Olson (me), James Franklin, Jared Houze, Michael Carriccino, CJ Meaders, and Jeremiah Griffin

Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of substituting for one of the regulars at our Banks-Caddell Homework Helpers program. If you have not had an opportunity to volunteer in that ministry, I highly recommend it. For most of the hour and a half I worked with four boys who were doing their math homework.

I quickly remembered some aspects of elementary mathematics. My multiplication table easily popped back into my mind (thank you Mrs. Albritton), but I struggled to distinguish between the distributive property and the communicative property. Do not even ask me what chunking is, for I still do not understand that demonic art! Yet what struck me more than my inability to remember mathematics was the spirit of the boys with whom I worked.

They were chipper and happy with just a pinch of rebelliousness. As I worked through their math worksheets with them I could see through some of their mischief, as one child in particular attempted to trick me into doing all of his work for him. After I convinced him that he should do his own work we worked together on a question asking another way of writing 8x5. The answer was clearly 5+5+5+5+5+5+5+5, but when I asked how he would write out 8x5 the boy answered, “50,000! NO! 50 thousand, hundred!” Maybe he was happy to get his homework completed, or perhaps it was working with friends, or even it might have been an adult sitting with him, but this child’s shear positivity overcame both his horrendous math skills and his inability to choose one of the four choices on the page. While I corrected him, I could not help but feel that his positive energy was hinting at a larger truth about God.

Sometimes in our world we can believe that the answer to our problems is one of four multiple choice answers. We might believe that we only have a few possible solutions to our challenges:

A. Make more money
B. Buy more things
C. Go it alone
D. Ignore the problem altogether

Yet, what this child of God reminded me is that God’s ability to multiply our time, talent, and treasure, our gifts, our prayers, and our lives themselves cannot easily be understood. 5x8 might as well be 50 thousand, hundred when God is at work! However, life soon challenged my new understanding of God’s greatness.

When I arrived home last night I discovered that Clay Towles, one of my best friends from seminary, had tragically died. The good feelings from Banks-Caddell melted away and I began struggling with all of the questions swirling around in my mind: Why did this happen? What could I have done to prevent his death? How could the church let one of its leaders suffer all alone? Why did Clay not reach out to others?

I fought hard all night with these questions desperately and irrationally hoping that by answering them Clay would return. He sadly will not. Instead I am left in a numb, heartbroken, and enraged mess. Somewhere buried in the tomb alongside our Savior Jesus Christ rests every bit of my grief, guilt, pain, fear, doubt, shame, anger, and confusion in the face of Clay’s death. Clay too is buried within that tomb.I do not know when or how or where it will happen, but Christ will raise all that is buried with him. One day the tomb, Clay’s tomb, will be empty. One day all those who believe will be resurrected to new life. One day all that we give over to God will be transformed in the mystery of God’s love. This is how God multiplies our lives: the pain of the Cross and death is transformed into the joy of the Resurrection.

I Mustache You A Question

Standing outside of church Sunday morning I expected a few comments, but I thought they would be about my sermon. In my time here as curate, I have looked forward to hearing comments about my preaching, as people walk out the red doors and into the world. Often the feedback I receive allows me to adapt my sermons, so that I might better interpret the Word of God with all of you in mind. However, this Sunday many comments were not about my sermon at all, and instead, almost everyone asked about a patch of hair that is growing above my upper lip.

When some eyes drifted down to stare at my newly growing mustache, I wanted to say, “Excuse me, but my eyes are up here.” Perhaps it was because some could not believe it was real, maybe it was a result of seeing Evan so cleanly shaven, or it could have been the thought, “Who wears a ‘stache these days?” Whatever the reason, I could tell that after church there was a fascination with my newly sprouted “soup strainer.” Of course, this is not my first facial hair rodeo, and I have been waiting for when some would say, “I mustache you a question… about your mustache,” and I enjoy the question, “What is that growing on your face?”

I affectionately know the eleventh month of the year as Movember (Mustache + November = Movember). Yet, why grow a mustache for the month of November? Well, each October all sorts of organizations, sports teams, and individuals sport the color pink in support of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month; however, many may not realize that November is Prostate Cancer Awareness Month. Instead of sporting a certain color, many men (including me) don some “handlebars,” “the walrus,” or “the dali” to raise awareness for men’s health issues. This is precisely why I have grown a ‘stache the last few years throughout the month of November. Well, that and because they look so awesome!

Many men have difficulty opening up and admitting when they are sick, in pain, or suffering. The culture around us often pushes men to believe that they always must be strong, that any form of sickness can be overcome by determination, and that to be vulnerable is to be weak. I would argue that in Jesus we have the opposite example. God become human in the person of Jesus. While Christ Jesus was both fully human and fully divine, God emptied himself upon the cross. To me the crucifixion shows that there is no weakness in vulnerability rather that is pure strength!

Maybe it is a little bold to equate opening up, being vulnerable, and going to the doctor with the example of Jesus. Yet, this month I urge everyone, both women and men, to take steps towards living an open, a vulnerable, and a healthy life. There is no weakness in being like Jesus, and of course, he had a mustache. If you feel like supporting prostate cancer research and the Movember movement, check out my webpage:  http://us.movember.com/mospace/3708981