The Trouble with Being Troubled

Getting off the sidelines can get us into trouble, but isn't that precisely what God did in Jesus?

Being troubled troubles me. Being agitated agitates me. Being distressed distresses me. I like things to be calm. I can count on one hand the times I was “in trouble.” Most of those happened before I was even in high school. Being called to the principal’s office, getting an earful from a parent, or being stopped by a police officer are the stuff of my nightmares, along with spiders and snakes. Except this feeling from being troubled does not just stop with me. Call it a defect in those who are empathetic, but when I observe others vexed it vexes me too. “No man is an island,” as John Donne so poetically put it means that I do not ask on whom anxiety preys, for I know it preys on me too. So, when I observe Our Lord Jesus “troubled in spirit” I too am troubled. This cannot be happening, I say to myself.

John, the Gospel writer, began his account with a profoundly beautiful and awe-inspiring hymn that picks up the theme set out in the very first words of Hebrew Scripture: “In the beginning” except where we expect to find “God created,”(Genesis 1:1) instead we find, “was the Word” (John 1:1). In the beginning was the Word. We may recall that John told us that through the Word all things were made. Without the Word not one thing came into being. This Word it turns out, came to dwell among us, as a man named Jesus, the Son of God. All of this is most certainly familiar to us who have had those opening lines of John’s Gospel wash over us time and time again. Yet, what is so striking in holding that hymn up against today’s passage is that the same Word that created all things, this very same Word made flesh was troubled.

The Word through whom all things were made being troubled feels impossible to believe. Isn’t God supposed to be all powerful? If a god walks into this earth is he not able to call lighting down from heaven to strike his enemies? Are we not still taught to believe that God will crush all who oppose Him? This is still the prevailing belief about God. And yet, Jesus shows us something different. The Word made flesh that dwelt among us did not just don human skin as though God were in costume. No, Jesus became fully human, warts and all, emotions and all, being troubled and all.

Perhaps the reason I have such an aversion to trouble has to do with not liking being held in suspense, at least not when it is something very personal to me. Yes, I love watching a close football game as long as it is not my team. Sure, I love watching a political drama unfold as long as it is a TV Show and not in real life. But this week we are called off of the sidelines, off of our couches, and out of our homes into the drama and into the trouble.

“Jesus was troubled in spirit,” continues to strike to my core. That the God through whom all things were made would be troubled by his upcoming suffering, his forthcoming Passion, and his impending death indicates that we have a God that came not just to pretend like he was a human, he came to be fully human and still fully God. Our God chose to get into the mess of life, even to get into the trouble of life.

When we feel as though our lives are full of chaos, when we look around and see terrorist attacks, racial violence, political rioting, sexual abuse, economic inequality, and oppression of all kinds we might feel as though our God is like a watchmaker who set this whole thing spinning and chooses to remain back at the clock shop, but that is just not true. Christ Jesus clearly showed that God’s work gets God into trouble, not just long ago, but right here and right now. As we walk with Jesus into the troubling days of the Triduum, we know that God walks with us in all the troubles of our lives.

No One Talks About Dried Fish

Dried fish usually are not the topic of sermons, but they are today.

Dried fish. No one ever talks about dried fish. Sure, throughout the Bible there are dozens of mentions of fishing. Jesus even recruits his first disciples using the analogy of angling to lure them to follow him (yes, pun intended). However, we do not hear about dried fish. I bet you’ve never even heard a sermon mention dried fish. Perhaps that is because the fragrance of perfumed nard covers up any stench of smoked fish, but as we walk with Jesus into the home of Lazarus, Martha, and Mary in Bethany, I want to tell you about dried fish.

Before I can tell you about the fish though, we have to do a little math. This is not my strong suit, so forgive me if I miscalculate, but to talk about the fish we have to do the math and we have to talk about some money. When our Gospel story for today took place the way that people were paid for their deeds was a silver denarius. This was not a completely silver coin. It was probably 80%, which would not have been acceptable in Temple sacrifice, no they needed the more pure 94% silver pieces minted in Tyre. This is beside the point, and I am getting away from the money, and the math, and the fish. A denarius, regardless of its silver content, was the standard wage for a day’s work. A week’s work equaled 6 denarii, remember to keep the Sabbath holy. A month’s work equated to about 26 denarii. A year’s salary (with a little vacation thrown in there) would be right around 300 denarii. If you put 300 denarii, or a year’s salary into today’s standards that is $30,000 (plus or minus a little bit). Now what does this have to do with dried fish? We’re getting there.

$30,000 is an eye popping amount of money. Maybe not to Bill Gates, but to me that is a lot of money. Even more, that is a ton of money to spend on one item. Maybe not if we are talking about a car, or a year of college (yeah, that's what it costs at some schools), or remodeling a kitchen, but what about something for a dead man? When we hone in on the audacity of Mary Magdalene busting open a $30,000 bottle of essential oil used for burial, it is quite shocking! Of course, Judas got upset. $30,000 was the total of our Outreach Grants last year at St. John’s. What if I decided I wanted to go out and get some essential oils for one person’s funeral instead? I have a feeling I would get more than a slap on the wrist for that costly “mistake.” Fortunately my Google searches for $30,000 essential oils came up with surprisingly few options, although I could make my own perfume fragrance for about that much money. So what does the smell of extravagant nard have to do with dried fish? We’re there now.

Even though this ideal family of believers (Lazarus, Martha, and Mary) were residing in Bethany, most put Mary attribute her home town as Magdala. The research on this town is a little confusing, as there were probably two towns with the same name (like Decatur, AL and Decatur, IL), but scholars point out that the main export in Mary’s hometown was you guessed it dried fish. The people of Magdala were known around the entire region for their ability to smoke and ship fish. This is as though Mary was running her day’s version of the Omaha Steaks company. However, this does not take away from the over generous gift that she so lovingly poured out upon Jesus’ feet. No, it all the more highlights our need, regardless of our status or income level to offer up not just part of us, but all of us to God especially during Holy Week.

Seeing the overgenerous offer that Mary extends to Jesus in Bethany serves as a call to us on this Monday of Holy Week. Yes, it is clever and ironic that a woman who made her living by smoking fish gave to Jesus the sweetest smelling gift. Even more than this moment being humorous though, this show of servanthood shines as a foretaste of John’s story of the “Last Supper.” Jesus will follow in Mary’s path of kneeling down to wash his disciples’ feet, just as Mary washed and whipped his feet with oil and hair. In this holiest of weeks our lives and Jesus’ life are to be so entangled that Christ’s story and our stories become one. To paraphrase from the Rite I Eucharistic Prayer: God, make us one body with Christ that he may dwell in us, and we in him (BCP 336). So now you have heard a sermon about dried fish (and costly nard), but this day and this week are not about one smell covering another, but rather God weaving our stories into the story of Christ. Won’t you get tangled up in God’s Story this Holy Week?

You Can Handle The Truth (With God’s Help)

Jack Nicholson as Col. Jessup in A Few Good Men

Even if you have never seen A Few Good Men I am certain you know one scene from that movie. Lt. Kaffee (Tom Cruise) interrogates Col. Jessup played by Jack Nicholson about a command the Col. ordered. When Kaffee presses Jessup the Col. delivers one of the most famous lines in cinematic history: “You can’t handle the truth!” You can’t handle the truth!

The line might not seem all that significant to us, but somehow it transcends the scene and even the movie, such that most of us have heard it. I believe these words stand out to us because in our own lives we struggle to handle the Truth too! The Truth cannot be bought, corrupted, or swayed it simply is, and so often we have a difficult time allowing it to be in our lives.

Maybe it is that relationship that is not what it used to be. Spouse and spouse, or parents and children, or friend and friend might both know the Truth that things are not how they were, but confronting and accepting the Truth is too tough, so things just keep going how they have been. Perhaps the difficult Truth is that your health is not how you would like it to be, but actually allowing that to set in is too difficult. Everyone complains about work or traffic, but confronting the Truth of that discomfort is another story. It might even be that you do not like the way you connect with God, but you can’t handle the Truth. You are not alone though, I believe we all struggle to handle the Truth.

Growing up I was for the most part an exemplary kid and this was no exception out at camp. As a camper, leader, and staff member I stood out as a paragon for how to act and to be. And yet, one summer as a supervising staff member I thought I was above all those rules I had followed for so long and with some friends I snuck some beer out to camp. Now when we got caught, because of course we got caught, the directors did a lot of hand wringing and finger pointing, but there was hardly a slap on the wrist in terms of punishment. Still something happened that startled me, as it confronted me with the Truth.

A day after this incident, I went to the camp office and there was the camp’s most steadfast matriarch, a woman about my grandmother’s age, with the dignity of the queen, and the faithfulness of a saint. She asked me if I intended to let everyone know that I had been a part of this violation of the rules, to own up to the truth. I stood there scared and silent. As her eyes met mine, she confronted me with the Truth, “A man is only as good as his word.” I knew the truth, she knew the truth, and now we both knew that each other knew the Truth. Could I handle the Truth?

Jesus assures us in today’s gospel lesson that the Truth will set us free, but how difficult it is for us to actually allow the Truth to permeate our lives. We believe we can hide in the shack of sin, separation, and isolation, but Jesus bids us come home to the household of God. For the Jews who have begun following Jesus and confused this invitation to freedom as a slight towards their Father Abraham and for us who so often hide in the shadow of sin what Jesus tells all is the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth.

The Truth, as one Biblical scholar put it, was that Jesus was not victim, nor was he victimizer. Throughout Jesus’ Passion, he did not fall into saying, “Whoa, is me!” nor did he come back for cosmic revenge once it was all over. Rather he showed this path where he let who he was, what he taught, and how he lived speak the Truth. We are about to enter into Holy Week when Jesus will hold up a mirror of Truth for all humanity. He reveals to us all our flaws, imperfections, and corruptions that make us humans. In holding up this mirror he also shows us his Truth.

On the night before Jesus died, he not only ate with his followers, but he also served his friends by washing their feet. He then taught them one last time. In the midst of this he invited them to follow him where he was going. Thomas, the curious one, said but we don’t know where you are going and asked how can we follow you? Jesus replied saying, “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life.” I am, meaning both Jesus and that Great I AM, is the one path, the unmistakable Truth, and the ultimate reality!

Despite what Jack Nicholson said in A Few Good Men, we can handle the Truth, but only with God’s help. As we walk ever closer to Jerusalem where we will see Christ’s Passion, Crucifixion, and Death we are called to follow and we are called to allow the mirror of Christ to reveal our Truth. We are sinful, we are broken, and we are nothing without God, but to walk with Jesus allows us to see the other side of this Truth. Christ who dwells in us all leads us out of the house of sin and into the Household of God! You can handle the Truth, for Jesus tells us, “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life.”

“Where’s Your Burning Bush?”

Burning bush or not... God wants you and is calling you!

You are walking along minding your own business when all of a sudden you notice a burning bush. Except, wait a minute, this is not your average burning bush that you have happened across countless other times, no this is scorching shrubbery that is not going down. This bush is burning, but not consumed. So, you think, “Okay, I should stop and see what is happening over here, right?” Then all of a sudden a voice says your name.

The story of Moses and the burning bush has always been a favorite Bible story, precisely because it is so outlandish, so absurd, and somehow hits so close to home. Still I wonder questions like, “Am I supposed to believe this?” “Is there science that backs up the possibility of the bush staying on fire?” “Was Moses on something at the time?” Then, I realize that I am asking the wrong types of questions of this ancient text. This story resonates so much not because everyone will experience something like this, but because fantastic presentation or not God is speaking to each and every one in this world.

The Creator of all things might not be hiding behind flaming flora on your way to work, but God wants to talk with you! God has a purpose for your life. The Almighty wants you! The trouble with today’s frantic pace, artificial connectedness, and shallow way of existing is that we are often so distracted that we do not make the time to actually stop when we do happen upon our burning bush. So, I invite you to stop. Breath. Look around. Pay attention. God is speaking. Are you listening?

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! 

Learning How To Wait

Don't like waiting? Simeon and Anna can teach you!

A few days ago I was attempting to find the shortest line at the grocery store. After a quick sweep I found my opening, even at just after 5 o’clock when so many people flood the neighborhood market I got in line behind only one person. It was a self-checkout aisle, which sometimes means one has to wait a little longer if someone has a lot of alcohol in their cart or are particularly slow, but I liked my chances. I was going to be in and out! Then it happened.

The man turned around and said to me, “I’m just warning you, but I’m slow!” At first I thought about abandoning ship, but as I had my collar on and more notably there was someone who had jumped in line right after me, I said the first kind thing that popped into my head, “I’m in the business of waiting.” He nodded at me and we made some small talk for a few minutes. Then, his wife walked up. The man reiterated his earlier statement, “I told him I’m slow honey.” She laughed, and even though the person behind me in line had long moved to a quicker aisle and was now walking out the door, I stayed there. I said to the couple, “Patience is a virtue.” The wife smiled, looked at me, and her expression turned somber. She looked me dead in the eye and calmly stated, “It is, but I won’t ever ask God for it.”

Dozens of times I have heard some version of this pithy response to “patience is a virtue” expressed. It may be a virtue, but I won’t ask for it. Patience might be the most maligned of all holy behavior. Sure, celibacy is not in vogue. Yes, sobriety among Catholics and Episcopalians isn’t popular. And of course, no one really wants to take on living in poverty. Still, I hear more snide comments about patience than any of these others. Perhaps it is because we all come face-to-face with our inadequacies in the patience arena all the time. I personally have been trying to get good at patience since a young age.

As a kid, when my sister was at dance rehearsals I would run around on the playground next to the studio where she took lessons. Toward the end of the time, which always felt longer than it was, my mom would call me over to watch for my sister. I did not particularly want to sit still, so she turned it into a game. She would ask if whoever was walking down the street towards our car was my sister. “Is that huge man your sister?” “NO!” (huge laughter) “Is that old lady your sister?” “NO!” (rolling on the floor laughing). Finally my sister would arrive and I would joyfully walk with my family to the car. As I reflect back I can see that patience can be full of joy, laughter, and hope, as much as it can be seen as difficult, irritating, and uncomfortable.

Today’s we have transferred our celebration of the Presentation of Our Lord when Jesus was brought by Mary and Joseph to the Temple. This was a Jewish custom. 40 days after a first boy was born the parents would bring him to the Temple to dedicate him to God’s service. As they were good Jews Jesus’ parents brought him there to be presented. While this part of the story is fun, as we imagine the baby Jesus all swaddled up in clothes, what stands out in this story is the hopeful expectation of two Temple dwellers, Simeon and Anna.

The Holy Spirit spoke to Simeon telling him that he would not die before seeing the Messiah. Anna believed in God’s immanent coming so much that she never left the Temple, even as an eighty-four year old woman. We might imagine that spending that much time waiting to see God would wear on someone; however, Simeon’s words spell out just how hopeful, excited, and elated he was in that moment of seeing all his calling fulfilled.

“Lord you now have set your servant free, to go in peace as you have promised. For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior whom you have prepared for all the world to see. A light to enlighten the nations and the glory of your people Israel.” I say these words, known as the Song of Simeon, at night when I say compline. And, I think that slowly but surely Simeon’s witness and Anna’s example are shaping me into someone who seeks out hope as I expect God’s coming into this world.

I believe that Christ comes to each of us in our hearts, in our lives, and in our relationships with those around us. We might not see it easily or at first, but despite what all those sarcastic people will say, pray for patience that one day you will see a clear glimpse of Christ’s presence. Simeon and Anna stand out as examples of waiting and watching for Christ to come. We too are invited by God to see that the Divine One is incarnate within our lives. Be patient and we will see Christ coming!

For the sermon audio link click here.

The Bad News Gospel

Doing something new can be great, but what about when God makes things new?

Variety is the spice of life. At least that is what some people like to say. In whatever relationship we find ourselves, whether it is with a loved one, such as a spouse or child, or even a friend, neighbor, or stranger, trying something new or different can lead to a new level of connection. This does not always go smoothly though.

I have heard horror stories, mind you never in my own relationships, about how one partner will try something new, only to have it blow up in her or his face. A doting husband attempts to make a home cooked meal, but only succeeds in getting the fire department to come put out the flames. A couple tries to learn the lyrics to a Taylor Swift song only to embarrass their teenage daughter. A woman does her best to buy lunch for a homeless man only to have him throw the food on the ground. Still, what steadily builds relationships are not times when we get it exactly correct, but times when despite fumbling the attempt we love one another. Even if or when the affection we show backfires, the “failed” attempt gives new life to that relationship.

Our relationship with God works in the same way. Often we require a new spiritual discipline, practice, or approach to give some energy to our connection with the Divine. We can no doubt think of countless times when we bought a fresh devotional, checked out a different prayer website, or joined a different prayer group, and these are helpful in jump starting how we perceive and relate to God. But, what about when God does something new?

Today’s Gospel story from Luke is a continuation of the tale that began last week. Jesus pulled into Nazareth. He went to the synagogue as was his usual routine. In the midst of the religious leaders he stood up and someone handed him the scroll from Isaiah. He unfurled it to the following passage:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
Because he has anointed me
To bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To let the oppressed go free,
To proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

The prophet Isaiah foretold of the Messiah in many different ways (being born of a Virgin, one preparing the way, a Galilean ministry, undergoing suffering, and on and on); however, Jesus chose these words to talk about his own ministry. This in and of itself is a surprising autobiographical description, so when the people in the synagogue heard this of course their response was being amazed.

Imagine for a moment we too were there sitting at the local place of worship. Think about someone you have known for your entire life, then all of a sudden they read a hopeful message of redemption, and instead of saying, “Doesn’t this sound great?” she says, “This has been fulfilled in your hearing.” At first we might say, “Oh wow!” we are part of hearing God doing something new. And yet, the surprising thing that Jesus says to those who heard him long ago and to those of us who hear him today is not that this prophecy is fulfilled in their hearing, but in something more than just a certain group hearing some good news.

Jesus went on to talk about a widow at Zarephath in the time of Elijah and Naaman the Syrian in the age of Elisha. We might wonder why mentioning these two would make those in the synagogue indignant enough to try to murder Jesus. Simply put, these stories depict God including those whom the religious folk were not ready to accept. The problem for those synagogue-goers and for us church-goers is not that God extends the good news of releasing, lifting up, healing, and freeing to us. No, the dilemma is that God extends this good news to the people we do not like, understand, or respect. As Evan put it this week in a blog: “The good news of salvation is about you, but it isn't only about you. If you think it's only about you, then it isn't for you after all.” I would say it this way: God loves you. This is good news. However, if you think that God only loves you, this is no longer the good news. In fact, it’s bad news.

This is what was going on in Corinth when Paul wrote this bit we heard today about love. No, he was not writing to them about weddings. Some in the church thought that it was only about them. There was in-fighting, anger, and bitterness in this diverse church. Paul told them they could speak eloquently, prophesy boldly, and even understand mysteries; they could have faith to move mountains, sacrifice their bodies, and empty their bank accounts for one another; they could do every good work, but without love they were just noise; without love they were nothing.
The love that God gives to us is not meant just for us. We are meant to share that love. If we withhold that love, then even our best works turn to nothing. God announced through Elijah, Elisha, and most notably through Jesus that God’s love is for all. If someone says that God’s love is only for his group, her church, or a certain religion, then they are no longer speaking good news, but bad news. And, I have had enough bad news.

God is doing something new, but in some ways it is the same thing that God has always being doing. Jesus announces the year of the Lord’s favor, and in hearing it this Scripture has been fulfilled. This is Good News not just for us, but for everyone. God releases, lifts up, heals, and frees all. If we say it is for only us and our own, then it is no longer good news, but the bad news gospel. We are not called to preach the bad news, but the Good News. God shows love to all and our response is simply to share that love with all. This is the Good News.