Showing posts with label Peter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peter. Show all posts

Sunday, February 25, 2024

New Names

We all come from the same family tree, as we are all God's children. Who will you become as you embrace this truth? Who is God transforming you to be?


Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16

Romans 4:13-25

Mark 8:31-38

Psalm 22:22-30

 

©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.

 

“Father Abraham had many sons (and daughters too!)/

And many sons had Father Abraham/

See I am one of them and so are you (so are you!)/

So, let’s all praise the Lord! (Right arm)/”

 

Nobody wants to jump up and join me? Do you know this beloved camp song? For several years of my life, I thought this diddy was about Father Abraham… Lincoln. I could not comprehend why we were singing about the 16th President of the United States of America, even if he had four sons. When eventually I learned that we were singing about the Biblical Forefather Abraham I kept loving the song, but I still could not quite get why we were singing about him as having many sons (and daughters too!). 

 

Eventually, as I learned more about the Book of Genesis everything clicked! I picked up that through his relationship with his servant Hagar, Abraham – who was Abram at the time – fathered Ishmael who was the forbearer of the Muslim Faith. Abram was only 86 years young at the time. Then, through an even more miraculous set of events, Abram and Sarai were promised a son, Isaac, who would be the forbearer of the Jewish, and eventually the Christian Faith. This is more amazing because Abram was 99 and Sarai 90!

 

God spoke, “I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.” To hear at almost one hundred that he would have a child with his wife was at least surprising, but then to imagine that his descendants would be exceedingly numerous had to be shocking if not heart-attack-inducing. I’ll be forty later this year, and I love our younger child Lucy, but being an older parent is no joke. Maybe this is why when Sarai heard of this news she laughed. Yep, she laughed right in God’s face—or at least God’s messenger’s face. Wouldn’t you? 

 

I think we often do! At least, I do. I cannot see the fullness of how God’s transformational, abundant love will manifest in my life. 

 

God though, made an everlasting covenant with Abram. God promised to be eternally faithful to all the descendants of this man and this woman. Even though, Sarai laughed at first, God’s faithfulness was proved trustworthy and true. Abram and Sarai had lived rich, full lives, but this moment changed everything for Abram and Sarai.

 

God changed who they were as people. Abram became Abraham. Sarai became Sarah. Now I’m not thinking of singing “Father Abraham,” but “I Will Change Your Name!” Yet these changes in name were merely the surface of a deeper transformation within them. It was as though they were no longer free agents. Now, they were recognizing the truth of who they were. They accepted that they were people of God. 

 

Through the centuries the children of Abraham and Sarah waxed and waned in their relationship with the Divine, like a lunar calendar of faithfulness. And, though the intimacy of God never faded, there were ages when God’s People shifted their focus from trust, faith, and relationship to obedience, rituals, and laws. Strangely enough as we mature individually through the life stages, we often find ourselves doing the same thing. 

 

We are made very good in God’s image! As children, we know the purity of God’s love, and yet, as we grow older, we superimpose a system of rules upon ourselves. Essentially, we change from the truth that I am very good made in God’s image to when I perceive that I have done good, then I will deserve God’s love. Maybe we learn this from our culture, families, or experiences. It might even be woven into our nature to set up barriers to overcome, so that we can think we have to do something to finally be worthy to experience God’s favor.

 

Paul knew this about those in the Church of Rome. We heard some of that letter this morning. He expressed: Abraham did not inherit the world because of the sake of law, but because God’s faithfulness. “For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation.” Instead of setting up laws that will bring wrath upon ourselves, for inevitably we will falter, we are called to trust in the grace of God’s faithfulness. That’s freeing, right?!

 

This leads me to a question: how is your Lent going? Did you give up or take on something? Have you, like me, already missed a day or forgotten what your discipline was at all? 

 

Every year, I learn the same lesson. The Lenten practice I take on is not designed to display how awesome I am as a Christian. Instead, it is meant to help me to remember just how much I rely not on following the rules, but on the grace of God. This grace, God’s favor unearned and undeserved, is promised in the covenant with Abraham and fulfilled in the love of Christ. 

 

Full of this grace, we may find ourselves like Peter ready to call Jesus our Messiah. Right before today’s Gospel lesson, Peter confessed Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah. And yet, like Peter, we might struggle with what this means—what comes next after we profess this belief? Even when we come to the point where we recognize our complete reliance upon God and God’s saving grace, a struggle persists.

 

When we call Christ, Our Lord or Our Savior or Our Messiah, what do we mean? Peter who had grown up hearing the prophetic hope that a warrior king would come to overthrow oppressors—Roman, religious, and otherwise! Jesus, in today’s Gospel pointed to a different mission the Messiah—undergoing suffering and even death. To have faith does not mean relying on God only when it is convenient or beneficial to us. This was the mistake of Peter: He rebuked Jesus for doing the will of God when it meant distress and agony.

 

Before we join in piling on Peter who became a stumbling block—Satan—to others. We would be wise to check out the plank in our own eye. How often do we doubt? Do we not make God in the image we want? Are we not susceptible to creating God in our image instead of the other way around? 

 

For all Peter’s struggles, misconceptions, and failings, in the light of the Resurrection, he eventually got it! God slowly transformed Simon into Peter, the rock on which this Church movement began! Just like God transformed Abram into Abraham and Sarai into Sarah. The question I have for you is who will you become? Who are we to become? God will always be faithful, good, and loving! What’s our response?

 

We have never stopped being God’s people. The promise made unto Abraham—that God will be Our God—continues to this very moment. Think about this very common practice within our Church: When I say, “The Lord be with you,” what is your response? And, also with you. In this moment we are saying, God is Our God and God is here! Sure, it might be a strange way of saying this truth. We probably would not say to one who is standing with her mother, “Your mother be with you,” unless we are wanting to sound like pirates (YARRR!). What we are really saying is your mother is with you and more to the point, God is with you! This is not just part of our service, but the truth of our Faith. 

 

God continues to fulfill the promise of Abraham through the redemption of Christ and the work of the Spirit. God is always with us—faithful, good, and loving! What is our response? You’re made in God’s image and loved unconditionally, so that you may become faithful, good, and loving—not the other way round! That would be to put the cart before the horse. You don’t have to be these things so God will love you—God loves you so that you can be faithful, good, and loving!

 

When we trust in God, we will be transformed! We might even receive a new name. Childless Abram became Father Abraham. Laughing Sarai became Mother Sarah. Simon the stumbling block became Peter the rock on which Jesus founded the Church. Who will you become when you trust in God? Who will we become when we put our faith in God? May we keep walking to the Cross, to the Tomb, and beyond to find out together! Amen.

Sunday, February 28, 2021

The Paradox of Following Christ

Among the several paradoxes in today's readings is Christ's call: If you want to save your life, you must lose it.

 © Seth Olson 2021

February 21, 2021—The Second Sunday in Lent

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16

Psalm 22:22-30

Romans 4:13-25

Mark 8:31-38

 

A video of this sermon may be found here.

Holy God, 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.

I love a good paradox. You know something that is a both/and! Observing something seemingly absurd or self-contradictory that when investigated proves to be well founded or true[1] usually makes me think or laugh. Think about those delightful figures of speech called oxymorons that slam together conflicting words.

Phrases like “jumbo shrimp” “deafening silence” “act naturally” “alone together” or “small crowd”. Our everyday speech overflows with contradictions—and they usually make us think or laugh. However, when we begin talking about religion, Faith, or our relationship with God, I believe, we want anything but a contradiction. Especially after this year of twists and turns, disharmony and isolation, disease and death, we yearn for our connection with God to be plain and simple. Can’t we just press the easy button?

The lessons for this day, the Second Sunday in Lent, are anything but straight-forward. Sorry! Especially in Genesis 17, Psalm 22, and Mark 8 paradoxes abound, but before we throw up our hands in exhaustion or tell God to just call us when the tomb is empty and victory is won, let us sit with the contradictions, the complications, and the enigmas present in these lessons.

For as we explore with our hearts, souls, minds, and strength, we may see that God does not shy away from the messiness of our lives, but instead, that messiness is precisely where God meets us. God continually steps into human frailty calling us into wholeness—even in the chaos that has been 2020 and 2021.

Last week Mary Bea pointed out the covenants that God makes with God’s Chosen People throughout the stories of the Hebrew Bible—Covenants of Life, Land, Law, and Lineage. We heard about God making the Covenant of Life with Noah seven days ago. Today, we hear about the Covenant of Land, or we would have heard it if our lesson did not cut out verses 8-14. Although the Covenant of Land is crucial to the People of Israel, God does not stop there with Abram. God steps into the messiness of the relationship between Abram and Sarai to make another covenant.

God had already given Abram a son, Ishmael, but Sarai was not Ishmael’s biological mother. Sarai’s servant Hagar was. Forming this strangely blended family created tensions in the relationships between Abram and Sarai and Hagar. Sarai could not stand for Hagar to be around, so she made her leave. With Hagar and Ishmael gone and getting advanced in years, Sarai’s hopes of being a mother were finished. God though was not finished. God entered the life of Abram again, but this time God’s promise was not simply to Abram.

God stepped into the chaos of Sarai’s life to make her a promise of childbirth—even though she was 90-years-old. If there ever were an oxymoronic phrase “nonagenarian pregnancy” might be it. And, as a mark of God not only stepping into the strangeness, but also bringing a blessing from it, God gave Abram and Sarai new names: Abraham and Sarah. They became the parents of many nations. What do we learn from the paradox of this story? God enters the complications and complexities of human lives to show us the truth, that God is ever walking with us, even when divine presence appears absurd or contradictory!

The paradoxes though are only getting started. You might remember our Psalm for today from such occasions as the Palm Sunday Passion Gospel, Good Friday liturgy, and the Last Words of Christ. Typically, what we hear from Psalm 22 is “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” Such a soulful lament could never end in hopefulness, praise, or faithfulness… and yet, this Psalm does! It is not unique for its shape, many Psalms twist from lamentation to exaltation, but something special does resound from this psalm.

Psalm 22 expands the scope of God’s Reign. In it we discover that God’s Kingdom does not just encompass the People of Israel long ago, but all the nations to the ends of the earth, to those yet unborn, and for all generations forever. God reaches into human lives even when we are fearful or believe God has forsaken us, for God’s Reign is larger than any of our fears or doubts. What we discover from the paradoxes of this Psalm: God enters the complications and complexities of human lives to show us the truth, that God is ever walking with us throughout all Creation and forever, even when divine presence appears absurd or contradictory!

Speaking of contradictions—is there a more challenging paradox than, “For those who want to save their life will lose it.”? How can you have a life if you have given it away? This sounds like eating a cake and having it too. Without proper context we might assume that Jesus in today’s Gospel lesson is telling us to die for the cause. Maybe. But, as we expand our vision to see beyond this eye-catching phrase, we observe there is more to this paradox.

In the section right before today’s passage, Peter called Jesus the Messiah or the Christ. Peter was right—Jesus was (and is) the Messiah, the Christ, but Peter was wrong in what he meant by that statement. Peter thought Jesus would vanquish all the enemies of God’s People. Like some warrior king of old, Jesus would conquer Rome, and the disciples would preside sitting upon thrones in regal palaces. So, when Jesus taught that being the Christ meant undergoing great suffering, rejection, and death, Peter could not stand it. He interrupted Jesus and rebuked his teacher in private.

Seemingly, Jesus did not take kindly to Peter’s mistaken understanding of “Messiahship.” He not only rebuked Peter, calling him a stumbling block, which we translate as “Satan”, but he also corrected the erroneous teaching in front of not only the disciples, but the crowds too.

What was the teaching? To be a follower—not just on social media, but in real life (IRL)—one must deny oneself, take up one’s cross, and follow Jesus. To gain life in Christ is a paradoxical endeavor—not just long ago, but in our day too. Life in Christ calls us to lose our lives—not in the sense that we go looking for a fight or intentionally seeking suffering. We must lose our life in the way that Peter eventually did.

Thanks be to God for Peter’s paradoxical witness. This shaky one was astonishingly the rock on which Jesus built the Church. It took rebuking Jesus and being called Satan. It required denying Jesus three times before the cock crowed on Good Friday. It necessitated hiding away until the women found the tomb empty, but eventually Peter lost his life enough to take hold of new life. He finally let go of his dream of who Jesus was, so that he could take hold of God’s dream of who Peter was to be.

This is what we can do too! We can let go of what we imagine God is supposed to be doing for us in our world and we can listen for what God is dreaming our lives are to be. God enters the complications and complexities of human lives to show us the truth, that God is ever walking with us throughout all Creation and forever, and even when divine presence appears absurd or contradictory, we are called to live the life God dreams for us!

We see the truth of this in the lives of Abraham, Sarah, the Psalmist, and Peter. And, it is true for us too! God enters the brokenness, the messiness, and the sinfulness of our lives… God walks with us even when we are in complicated relationships with our family, friends, or neighbors… God is with us when we wonder “Why have you forsaken me?”… God calls us to let go of life, so we may take hold of God’s dream for us. We do not have to understand, nor can we even comprehend all the paradoxes of life.

And yet, in all those vexing both/and moments God is not only present, but also calling us to see the profound dream that God has for us individually and collectively.

This week, our Lenten Speaker is the Rev. Katie Nakamura Rengers, and in her beautiful, challenging presentation she wonders, how is the Spirit calling us to form the Church at this odd time in human history and Church history? For us to meet this moment of challenge, we may very well find ourselves holding onto new paradoxes—being a church without walls, taking the altar out into the world, and hearing the Spirit speaking in mundane or secular spaces. God is dreaming—are we listening?

God enters the complications and complexities of human lives to show us the truth, that God is ever walking with us throughout all Creation and forever, and even when divine presence appears absurd or contradictory, we are called to live the life God dreams for us not just here and on Sundays, but everywhere and everyday! Amen.




[1] “Paradox” from OxfordLanguages [accessed 2/24/2021. https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=paradox].

 

Sunday, August 23, 2020

Identity Crisis

Jesus' coming as the Messiah was even more disruptive than moving from a rotary phone to a smart phone.
 

© Seth Olson 2020
August 23, 2020—Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost  

Isaiah 51:1-6
Psalm 138
Romans 12:1-8
Matthew 16:13-20

Video of today's sermon may be found here: https://vimeo.com/450836046

O God, 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.

This week school started for many in our community. We prayed for our students, their parents, as well as teachers, administrators, and staff beginning this academic year both last week and earlier this morning. The usual emotions of excitement, anticipation, and curiosity are tinged with anxiety, trepidation, and fear—it is as challenging a start to a new school year as has ever been.

This is not to say that school wasn’t hard enough already. It was! While our children and adolescents are learning science, math, language, history, social studies, the arts, and sports, they are also discovering who they are. They are figuring out their identity. Learning to fully accept who we are is a life-long journey, and it has always been tough. Still it feels especially tough right now. I feel for not only our children and teens, but all of us as we navigate who we are and who we are becoming in this ever-changing world. We are not alone in this self-discovery though.

In today’s Gospel lesson we observe Jesus wondering the all-important question “Who am I?” with his closest followers. He first asked them a safer version of the question, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” (It would be like me asking, “What are people saying about the 30-something-year-old Associate Rector at All Saints?”) Jesus did not refer to himself directly, but used a title—“Son of Man”—that he often applied to himself. And he did not ask the disciples point blank, but instead allowed them to crowd-source their reply.   

Jesus did not go so far as to ask the disciples for the wrong answers only, but the crowd’s understanding of Jesus was nonetheless off the mark. The masses believed Jesus to be the recently martyred John the Baptist or a longer dead prophet like Jeremiah or Elijah. We will come back to these incorrect answers in a moment, but first Peter tells us the truth of who Jesus is. In the midst of all the healings, teachings, and confrontations with the Pharisees, God had opened Simon’s eyes to the truth. When Jesus asked, “Who do you say that I am?” Simon replied, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

By merely uttering these words Simon underwent a transformation from a struggling follower to the Rock of the Church. To behold Jesus as the Messiah—the Savior—the One coming to save the world is enough to change anyone’s life. Jesus gave Simon the nickname Peter (the Rock) because he had—with God’s help—realized this truth before any of the other disciples. We would be wise to remember that Mary, the Magi, John the Baptist, the Canaanite woman, and others had discerned this earlier in Matthew’s Gospel account. Still, this acknowledgment of who Jesus truly was, and who he still is—the Messiah, the Christ—has the power to transform not just Simon, but us too. Now, what about these other answers? What about the wrong assertions of who Jesus was? Why might they be useful to us?

The crowds professed that Jesus was John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or another prophet. With 2,000 years of hindsight we can clearly tell these answers are wrong, but they help us nonetheless. The crowd’s responses all had in common that they were prophetic voices from the Jewish Tradition. In other words, they were known commodities. The crowds would have heard Jesus and recognized echoes from their people’s past. Sometimes, as human beings, we have a hard time understanding something or someone as wholly new, and we try to put them into an already existing category or box. It’s challenging for us to face a completely novel and disrupting force—even if it is good for us. Let me give you a modern analogy.

Do you remember rotary phones? If you are younger than me you may not even know what a rotary phone is, but it was the way that people used to have to make phone calls (mimic dialing with rotary). It was a slow process. But, then came along the touch-tone or keypad phone. It was a big advancement, but still an “incremental improvement.” It would be like going from one prophet to another. More recently though there has been much more disruptive advancement … “combining a phone, a camera, a computer, a music library and player, a GPS device, and a mobile Internet portal,”[1] as phones evolve into smart phones. Jesus’ coming was not a rotary phone evolving into a keypad phone, but rather it was much more unsettling—like going from no phone to a smart phone overnight.

This analogy though can be harnessed to talk not only about Jesus’ coming and his disrupting of the systems of the day, but also to the current moment. We are in a disruptive era. Even before the pandemics we now face, we were looking at times of change, especially in the Church. Long held institutions (including religious ones) coming under greater scrutiny, seven-day work week schedules, and the appeal of other interests have made it less likely for some to find merit in traditional, Sunday morning church. Unlike in previous decades it has not been enough to hang a church sign and open the doors, and that is even more true since March.

If we were already experiencing such a time of upheaval, and now we are facing these pandemics, we cannot simply try to go back to the way things were. The bell cannot be unrung—the toothpaste cannot go back in the tube—the smart phone is not exchanged for the rotary phone. I had a New Testament professor who warned against jumping from one Gospel account to another—what she calls “making Gospel soup,”[2] but disruptive times call for disruptive measures. This moment calls for jumping from Matthew’s account to John’s telling of the Good News where we hear Jesus say one must be born again. This does not mean, as Nicodemus thought, we go through the womb a second time. Rather, in such a challenging age, we are being called to be spiritually reborn. Honestly, we have always been called to this divine rebirthing, but it just has not been so dramatic in any of our lifetimes.  

We are in an unprecedented time. We are facing seemingly endless challenges on manifold fronts. This is not a rotary phone evolving into a keypad one. This feels like going from the stone ages to the internet age overnight. In the middle of these challenging times we might be wondering who are we as a Church and who am I as an individual? Whether we are heading back to school, trying to navigate new work realities, struggling with unemployment, facing isolation, or worrying about our own health or that of our family, we are all trying to figure out who we are in this new day. Who am I now? Who are we going to be as the Church now?

These questions are so crucial that they—on top of everything else—may make us feel like we are collapsing under the weight of it all. Ugh! These questions are important—don’t get me wrong. I love wondering about them and about who we are, but there is still an even more important question.

Like Simon we are called to wonder about Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” How will we answer? If we take hold of Jesus not just as a teacher, healer, and disruptive force, but also as a Savior, something changes. So often I find myself trying to save myself instead of resting in the truth that Christ has come to make me—and all of us—whole. We cannot save ourselves and as I let this sink in the words from a Gospel lesson several weeks back flood into my heart: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”[3]

Yes, we will not come out on the other side of these pandemics the same way we came into them. Yes, it is crucial to wonder who we are and who we are becoming. Yes, this has been and is a disruptive age. But the biggest yes is that in God we can rest, in God we can trust and not be afraid, in God is our hope, and whatever it is we are going through we can know fully that God is with us.

As you answer who you are remember also whose you are. For we all belong to God. May we rest in this truth, especially as face such disrupting times.



[1] Brian McLaren, “A Disruption of the Spirit” from Center for Contemplation and Action Daily Mediations, Wednesday, August 19, 2020: https://cac.org/a-disruption-of-the-spirit-2020-08-19/.

[2] The Rev. Dr. Cynthia Kittredge was fond of saying this to my seminary New Testament class.