Rules

Some rules build up the Kingdom of God and some rules do not.

My niece who is now six-years-old is fond of coming up with rules. They are often hilarious, as her insight provides a funny glimpse into how a child views the world, but on another level these rules are remarkable and sometimes even a little breath-taking, as I get to see how a child envisions justice and even God’s presence in the world. The following are some of my favorites:

As a six-year-old:
-Don’t flush anything but the toilet. (Practical advice)
-Never yell at your daughter—if you are a mama.
-Be careful where you step. (Helpful around my apartment complex it seems)

As a three-year-old (these fall into “thou shalt not” category):
-Don’t touch a turkey while it’s cooking.
-Don’t mess up the settings once they are on the table. (Proper Southern Etiquette)
-Don’t interrupt a blessing. (As a priest, this one is a reminder to keep blessings short and sweet!)

I love these rules. I love them because they are funny. I love them because they don’t just reveal who this child is, but how the innocent see the world. It’s almost as though through these rules we get a glimpse of how God might rule the world.

Rules are peculiar though. As the rules we make do not always provide justice and protection for all, or give us an image of God’s way of ruling, but instead they write in stone a certain prejudice or a practice of discrimination. We can clearly see now that racially segregated restrooms, drinking fountains, and schools were not just a problematic practice, but they choked the very breath from the Body of Christ and prevented the Kingdom of God from existing let alone thriving. While this example is easy to spot after the fact, we still make the same mistakes today. Whether it is passing legislation to deny service to gay and lesbian couples, to keep black or Latino/a voters from easily making it to the polls, or humiliating transgendered persons when they are simply trying to use the restroom, state and federal politicians around the country are sponsoring laws that are once again maiming the Body of Christ and halting the spread of God’s Kingdom.

Of course, Jesus witnessed this type of discriminatory rule making. When he engaged with the people in Chorazin and Bethsaida, they attempted to shut down his cousin John's and his own ministry. The people in these places misused their understanding of the Torah to ridicule both John the Baptizer and Jesus himself. When John came with his radical message of repentance and fasting they said he had a demon and told him to lighten up. Then, when Jesus came fulfilling all Scripture and bringing with him the Good News to outcasts they called him a glutton, a drunkard, and a friend to the sinners. They changed the rules to discriminate as they saw fit. They did everything in their power to feel comfortable where they were, but Jesus said "Woe unto thee." They were missing God at work because they had such a narrow view of how God worked into the world.

The one “woe unto thee” rule my niece uttered that I did not mention earlier is pretty profound. She said, “Don’t ever make the children of God be bad!” However, I feel that is exactly what happened to tax collectors and sinners in Jesus' day and it happens today when we turn our spiritual relationship with God Almighty into a list of rules that exclude people. As one Episcopal Café writer put it, “Whenever you draw a line in the sand, Jesus is on the other side of that line.” (Bowie Snodgrass, “The relativity of modern morality,” Washington Window, Vol. 73, No. 11, November 2005). When we use our religion as brick and mortar to build a wall between ourselves and others Jesus is on the other side of that wall from us. When we use our religion as demolition crew to knock down bridges Jesus stands on the other side of that gulf from us. When we use our religion as a stick to draw a line in the sand Jesus will be on the other side of the line from us. When will we Christians learn to be more like Jesus who embraced the outcasts?

Jesus summed up all the commandments very simply, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength...Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:30-31, Matthew 22:37, Luke 10:27). While quite often we try to narrow down who are neighbor is, Jesus in the parable of the Good Samaritan made clear for us that neighbor is an infinitely applicable term that extends even to those we believe we are to mistrust, to fear, or even to hate. We are to love all our neighbors regardless of race, sexual orientation, gender identity, ethnicity, country of origin, or any other category we may make up. And, we are to love not with some halfhearted gesture, but with the best of our abilities.

Love does not discriminate. Love does not shut off. Love does not do violence. Love equals respect. Love equals openness. Love equals laying down our own agenda for the building up of Christ’s Body and God’s Kingdom.

We have an opportunity in the world today. Using legislation, policy, and our votes we may create a society that keeps us comfortably divided, racially separated, and fearful of LGBTQ neighbors. Or, we can see what Jesus continually did, that is side with those on the other side of hateful rule-changing, wall-building, bridge-destroying, and line-drawing.

"Don’t ever make the children of God be bad!” A three-year-old has a better grasp on following Jesus than many politicians who claim a Christian identity. As we continue in this polarizing, divisive, and hurtful trend of new rules perhaps we would be better served to figure out how our neighbor might want to be respected, understood, and loved. Of course, it's not a rule or law to love God and neighbor it's simply the Greatest Commandment.

The Spiritual Realm

Don’t you just love a good demon story? In our world where popular culture craves post-apocalyptic/Sci-Fi/fantasy TV shows and movies with zombies, vampires, and witches, a story about Jesus releasing two demoniacs appears a bit mundane though. Were there no werewolves or ogres to conquer? While I am being a bit playful, I have a hard time with stories about demonic forces in the Bible.

I do not think I am alone in the Episcopal Church in having some questions about demons. We keep a tight lip about things like exorcism in this tradition. In fact, the only reference made to it in our liturgical resources is one page within The Book of Occasional Services. It merely urges one who suspects some sort of demon-possession in oneself or another to call the bishop. And yet, Matthew’s telling of the Good News of Jesus of Nazareth overflows with references to demons.

People bring the demon possessed to Jesus for a cure, Pharisees claim that Jesus casts out demons because he is the ruler of the demons (Beelzebul), and Jesus gives voice to a mute man by casting out his demon. Other stories in Matthew and the other Gospel accounts seem to have much more credence in how we live out our Faith in God. “Love God with all your heart, mind, spirit, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself,” (Matthew 22:37-38) makes sense to us. Heck, even the feeding of the 5,000 has some interpretations that allow ultra-rational folk to understand it in a way that applies to my life. When some saw the generosity of a few who offered the bread and fish that led to all sharing the provisions they had brought with them. However, curing people with demons lies outside of my tightly-held worldview. One could choose the route of believing that demons were what we call mental illness, but an experience from my life showed me that there is more to this world than what meets the eye.

On an outreach experience in Quito, Ecuador my group went to a small church one Sunday morning. This community met in a bright yellow school room that sat on the edge of a cliff face that overlooked the valley where Ecuador’s capital city rests. I was completely out of my element at this service. Electric guitar praise music blared through a broken set of speakers, a thirty minute sermon turned into a forty-five minute sermon due to translating it into English, and then came the altar call. When one of the students on the trip wanted to go up I felt the need as group leader to support her decision, even if it made no sense to me. After hearing the prayer both in Spanish and then translated into English I thought, “This is not so bad. It is kind of like the Public Service of Healing.” The student got up from kneeling and she returned to her seat.

At that moment I turned to walk back as well, but the leader of this congregation stopped me. What was translated to me was something like, “You are the leader of the group and you need a blessing.” I waved my hands and shook my head saying, “No, I’m good.” Then he insisted, and not wanting to deny his hospitality and thinking, he’ll just say some prayer, I agreed to the blessing. This is when things got weird.

As soon as this man put his hands on my shoulders my heart began to race, as though it were trying to burst forth from my chest. He spoke words that were being translated, but somehow I already knew what he was praying. His hand touched my forehead and it felt white hot! Then, he said the Spirit is strong with you and this blessing will knock you down. I thought, “No, it won’t!” I had no power over what was happening, though and I fell backwards into the arms of some fellow leaders. There’s a picture of me after this experience and I have this calm look on my face, as though a peace, which I cannot understand was dwelling within me.

As much as I try not to believe in a spiritual realm where demons, angels, and other forces exist, I am almost certain that I am wrong. Just because I do not understand quantum physics does not mean that it does not exist. Jesus was more than aware of the spiritual realm; he encountered it; he tamed its unruly members; he held control even over those parts of reality that we cannot see or have a hard time believing exist.

When the Messiah came among us in the person of Jesus God touched every part of our existence setting it apart as holy! This story of Jesus casting out demons from two Gadarenes (Gad-a-renes) informs us of the thickness of our reality. There is more to life than what meets the eye. While on some level this may appear frightening, Jesus controls even those parts in this universe that we cannot perceive with our human senses. When we trust in God through Jesus strange things may happen, even the casting out of forces that repel God. Following Jesus is not about having understanding, but about having Faith. Have Faith that Jesus is the Lord of all things: seen and unseen!

Love

The way we love sometimes makes us forget that we are already beloved.

Have you ever written a list of reasons why you love someone? “I love the way her hair smells.” “I cannot help but smile when he smiles.” “I adore how she listens to me as an equal.” It is invigorating to have someone who loves us. And, it can be wonderful to actually name all the ways in which that love is expressed; however, if we turn that list around it can become dangerous.

What I mean is that conditional love can creep in if we turn these statements around on themselves. I will love her when she smells good. I will love him when he smiles. I will love her when she listens to me. This type of love is dangerous, and the crazy thing is that it’s even more worrisome if we do this to ourselves… I say if, but really I mean WHEN WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES.

I will be okay when I am good… when I am serving… when I am achieving… when I am significant… when I am capable… when I am reliable… when I am happy… when I am strong… when I am at peace. Each one of us is susceptible to this type of thinking on some level. It will be alright when (fill in the blank) and I will be okay once I (fill in the blank). And, because we are each vulnerable to this way of living our lives, we end up believing that love is not something that is innately present, but something that is to be sought or achieved both within and outside our selves.

We all fall prey to the same belief that one day I will figure it out… I will love myself. This is so dangerous because we believe that there is something missing inside and so, we spend our lives trying to fill some interior hole with all sorts of things that don’t belong (alcohol, sex, drugs, shopping, overeating, or escapism). Some people even fill that hole with seemingly good things like exercise or religion or service. It’s not always a vain pursuit, but this pursuit of and belief in conditional love harms our lives in some pretty significant ways. The good news is that even in this misguided journey we will often find a new place of understanding, but the price of that path is often years of our lives and deep anguish to our souls and the lives of those closest to us.

John the Baptizer did not know he was loved in today’s reading. He did not believe he ought to be baptizing Jesus. He believed it was something outside of himself that would make him alright. Then, God from the depths of those baptismal waters and the height of those billowing clouds cried out something. The words of belovedness echoed down from on high and fell upon Jesus, but they fell upon John the Baptizer and they fell on us too! You are my beloved. YOU! Not when John made the paths straight and cried out in the wilderness, but always he was beloved. Not when you are good, serving, achieving, significant, capable, reliable, happy, strong, or at peace, but right now you are God’s beloved, with you God is well pleased.

When Jesus heard those words shock waves rippled throughout all time and space to amplify what is built into our very nature. In the beginning what God created was not just good, but very good. What God continues to create is still good. And it is not just some simplistic varnish that gets overlain atop our lives when we remember that Jesus loves us. No, God Incarnate, God with us, came and dwelt among us and we receive through Jesus the ultimate statement of how God feels about us. In the beginning we were seen as very good in God’s eyes, but through Jesus the Almighty says, “You are my beloved.” I LOVE YOU. Right here, right now, and just as you are.

In the name of our ever-loving God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Tell Us Plainly

This Sunday we celebrate the Good Shepherd, but won't he tell us plainly?

This coming Sunday's Gospel reading comes from John 10, as we celebrate Good Shepherd Sunday. While at some point my thinking and preparation for Sunday night's sermon will inevitably turn towards the many examples of Jesus being our Good Shepherd, I am struck today by the words of some faithful Jews: "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly." My focus zeroes in on these words because so often my anxious prayer to God sounds eerily similar to that of these religious leaders who are my spiritual ancestors.

About this time three years ago when I was discerning where my first call to ordained ministry would be I prayed, "GOD, just tell my plainly where I am to go." As my fiancee and I discerned a call to marriage I wanted God to just give me a simple sign. Way back when I wanted to know if I ought to go to seminary out in Austin, Texas I pleaded with God to let me know in a clear way. I imagine that whenever I face a stressful stretch of life my instinct will be to pray, "Do not keep me in suspense. Let me know what I am to do." But, doesn't this way of praying deny the act of faith?

When I was going through my rage against the Church and God phase in college I thought of the word faith as this phrase that simple-minded, religious folk used to keep themselves from thinking too hard or too much. Now I feel remorse that I thought that way, but I am happy that I struggled with how I define faith. To be faithful means that I will be in suspense. To be faithful means that I will not get the precise sign that I want or need. To be faithful requires that sometimes I walk in the dark, not knowing entirely that God is walking right beside me.

The life of a faithful follower of God will inevitably lead to moments when she does not know what the hell she is doing, and yet, somehow she still knows that God is leading her a step at a time. My hope is that I might be so wise as to have faith to not let my anxiety be my guide, but instead allow the Good Shepherd to call me onward. As sheep we will not know the reasoning of the Shepherd, we will certainly want to say "tell us plainly," and we will not like the suspense of walking by faith, but that is the great work of our lives (spiritual and otherwise) to trust that God walks with us, leading us wherever we go. 

I Am Two-Years-Old

Spending time with my nephews makes me realize I am like a two-year-old. We all are!

Last year during the spring and summer, I spent some quality time with my twin nephews. At the time they were two-years-old. And even with marvelous parenting from my sister and brother-in-law and stupendous grand-parenting from their Bebe, they helped me to understand why people think the two’s are terrible. There were tears, tantrums, and running around like pair of super-destructive, superconductors that somehow feed off of each other’s energy. And while the experience reminded me that parenting is very difficult, the grandest inspiration that struck me came when I recognized that at my core I am two-years old.

No, I do not respond with the same mechanism. Of course, I do not get on the floor in my office and pound my fists and feet on the floor. I am not the type that whines and cries until I get what I want, but somewhere inside of me I see those two-year-old boys and in them I see me. My fiancée already recognizes this and sees it most notably when I am hangry (hungry+angry), so she will gently lead me towards food before I begin the irrational comments. In her sweet gesture I see that my nephews would probably not respond with their meltdowns if they knew another way, but that is indeed the way that they respond to a need within themselves.

I do not only act like I am two when I am hangry though. There are other moments when I am confronted with stresses that make me feel small or scared. If I am healthy (in body, mind, and spirit) they are no big deal. And yet, even if I am doing well some things are too big for me to confront. These are the moments when I get base. I respond in fear or anxiety. I push people away that love me, or worse yet, I run away from them.

Our Gospel reading for tonight does not reveal why Cleopas and the other disciple were heading from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They had been in that Holy City to witness the awful events of Good Friday. They stuck around over the Passover Festival. The women of their group had even told them that the tomb was empty, but some things are too difficult for us to understand or believe. I suspect that they were a little afraid that what had happened to Jesus could very well happen to them. So, they traveled from the Passover city and on the way they met a stranger.

The stranger did not know what had happened. The stranger walked with them. The stranger listened. That was until the stranger could stand it no more, so he opened the Scripture to them pointing to all those moments when the Messiah’s suffering and death were foretold. Onward the stranger would have gone were it not for Cleopas and the other disciple’s request to dine with them.

It was at this moment of breaking bread together that the scales fell from the disciples eyes and they saw Jesus as himself. They went running seven miles back to Jerusalem at night, so that they could share with the others that “HE IS RISEN!” Somewhere along the way though when the disciples were pumping oxygen and blood through their bodies they also remarked that their hearts had been burning when Jesus was with them.

In the moments when I am trending towards two-years-old, when I am fearful, when I run from my problems like those disciples were hiding from their fate earlier in the story it is these moments when I have the hardest time seeing. I would be just like those disciples. I would not be able to see Jesus walking right next to me. So sometimes, I believe this is where we are in our lives. We are too preoccupied with fear or doubt or rushing around or even doing things that seem like they are good or worthwhile, but all the while we miss that the God who came to dwell with us is dwelling right with us.

This would seem like a bad thing, that we miss God so easily, except that our God is always faithful, always sure, always loving. God, when we miss the presence of Christ right here with us, will come to us as that burning within our hearts. That feeling of pure joy, free gift, or complete love is God knocking at the door to our souls. There are times though when we will even miss that knock. It is at these times that in a strange set of circumstances when we might be with someone we have never met before that God will throw an altar into our lives, so that God can actually break bread with us. That is right. God will come into our lives through something strange and miraculous to get our attention, so that we might commune with him at a sacred meal just for a little while.

When we are confronted with the Risen Christ who comes to share that all things are made new again that even our turning and walking away are transformed into walking with God, we can respond in any number of ways; however, I think Cleopas and the other disciple were spot on. They went immediately and ran to tell others this Good News. And, when they arrived to tell them Jesus showed up there too! This is the joy of Easter. Even when we throw tantrums in our lives, even when we cry and run away, even when we attempt to escape, God has another way. God will burn in our hearts, God will make a table to dwell in sacred meal with us, God will show up to bring us peace. Alleluia, He is Risen!

Without

Today we are without...

I do not like to wait…
In grocery store lines,
On traffic filled highways,
At airport check-ins,
But, today we wait.

We wait with no cause
We wait all alone
We wait scared and numb
Our existence breaks
And we are without…

We are strings without guitar;
Song without singer;
Symphony without conductor.

We are theory without scientist;
Equation without mathematician;
Project without engineer.

We are students without teacher;
Classroom without professor;
School without principal.

We are an order without a soldier;
A badge without an officer;
An accident without an E.M.T.

We are illness without doctor;
Disease without therapist;
Cavity without dentist.

We are a play without an actor,
A painting without an artist,
A poem without a poet.

We are a field without a farmer
Sheep without the Shepherd
Branches without the Vine.

We are the body without the head;
The Church without the Christ;
The Universe without its Savior.

We are without…
Without purpose and,
Without direction;
Without feeling and
Without affection.

Today we’re without,
And so we must wait,
Wait with a semblance,
A sliver of hope.
Wait outside the tomb.

“Does Washing Feet Even Mean What It Once Did?”

Our feet are not dirty like the disciples' feet, so do they need to be washed?

Morgan Freeman asked one of the most appropriate questions for Maundy Thursday when he played the character Red in Shawshank Redemption, “Seriously, how often do you really look at a man’s shoes?” Except, I would amend the line to say, “Seriously, how often do you really think about feet?” Feet are the Rodney Dangerfield of body parts. They get no respect. None. Before tonight when was the last time you even thought about your feet?

Perhaps someone here got a pedicure in preparation for tonight’s foot washing and laughed when the manicurist scraped, polished, and massaged. Yes, if you have recently been to the beach you might have remembered that you have feet as your toes buried their way into the sand. If you are like me you have thought of your feet recently because you developed a blister while out on a run. However, by and large, we pay our feet no mind.

One might argue, “I love and respect my feet, as they are like the tires on a car without them I can go nowhere,” but this would only be true if we wrapped our tires in layers to disguise their very existence. Feet are not what they were in Jesus’ day. We hardly ever see one another’s feet anymore. So, our very understanding of foot washing has gotten complicated. Back then, the most elaborate footwear around were sandals, so everyone saw each other’s feet, but now we lay them beneath layers of leather and lycra hoping that they never see the light of day. We may not intentionally be ashamed of our feet, but even accidentally our actions point to a hiding away of a member of the whole.

Is there a part of our bodies that does more for us and about which we are more guarded? Everyone appreciates the eyes, they help us to see, to read, and to view this world. Without the nose and mouth we would have no taste and life would unpalatable. Hands help us to hold, to reach out, and to serve the world around us. And yet, our feet carry us to and fro all the while hidden away. Protected yes, but hidden nonetheless. Even in our homes I bet most of us wear house-shoes or slippers. But exposing feet and going a step farther by washing feet was not back in Jesus’ day and is not in our own day only about a oft’ forgotten part of our body.

Have you ever noticed in the midst of a fight with a spouse or a close friend that the two of you are not actually fighting about what you are yelling at each other? “Well, you never put the dishes away!” “How come you don’t like my mother?!” “You never put the toilet seat down!” has nothing to do with dishes or mothers-in-law or toilet seats. By putting those dishes away, by putting up with a mother-in-law, and by putting the seat down we show each other respect, reverence, and even love. Jesus kneeling down to wash his disciple’s feet was not an empty offering, it was not because he was worried about their feet being dirty either. No, it was a final teaching during a final meal. Jesus attached to his great commandment—Love one another as I have loved you—the action of being a servant and washing his disciples’ dirty, grimy, and disgusting feet.

In the other gospel accounts the Words of Institution that are so familiar take center stage at the Last Supper. We heard those words in Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians tonight: “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me,” and “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me” (1 Cor. 11:24-25). We hear these words so often that they have soaked into our souls. We weekly reach out our hands and mouth to accept the Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven and the Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation. We believe that these are sacramental elements: outward and visible signs and sure and certain means of inward and spiritual grace! But we very rarely think about feet, and washing them, in this same way.

Today, in this part of the world, feet do not carry the same stigma as they did in Jesus’ day. They are not covered in the filth of the streets like they were, instead we keep our feet hidden. We wear extravagant shoes and fancy socks and our feet do their job balancing and moving us without saying a word. But, tonight is not about feet, just like arguments are not about the dishes, mothers-in-law, or the toilet seat. Feet are those things in our lives that we hide away. Feet are those parts of us that we cover up with multiple layers hoping that they do not see the light of day. They may propel us through life, but we keep them hidden from those whom we meet, maybe even those we love. But, Christ says no more. I want to wash your feet.

What are the feet in your own life? What are the things that you keep hidden from the light of day? What part of your life are you keeping secret that God not only wants to cleanse, but also by washing that will show you what true love is?

Who are the feet in your own life? Who are those people that you have been hiding or from whom you have been hiding? Who are those people that you long to wash and to serve, so that you might offer the cleansing love that Christ offers us tonight?

Back in Jesus’ day feet were the grimy body part that was in severe need of cleaning. Now in our day of modern hygiene and pedicures feet are no longer dirty, instead they are hidden away. The meaning of washing our feet has changed, and yet it is still the same. It is still about kneeling down to serve friend, family, or neighbor, but now it is also about God cleansing even that part of us that we are afraid to show to the rest of the world. Christ says: Love one another, serve one another, and wash each other’s feet.