God's Home With Us

The World now tells us it is not enough that we succeed the other side must also fail.

In today’s Gospel lesson we find Jesus the night before he died, teaching his disciples. That night he gave them one final masters level teaching that would encourage them to carry on their sacred mission long after his death, resurrection, and ascension. In the midst of this discourse, Jesus’ followers asked some of the most powerful questions that we in the Church still rely upon in moments of doubt, denial, and death. Thomas’ curiosity about the path to the Father led to Jesus saying, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” Philip’s desire to see the Father led Jesus to promise the gift of the Holy Spirit. And, Judas (not Iscariot)’s question—well, what did it give us? Remember this in not the Judas who handed over Jesus to be put to death, but a guy with the same name. It might be nice to know what this Judas asked in the first place, but the folks who crafted our Reading Cycle failed to give it to us.

So if we go back to right before today’s Gospel lesson, Judas (not Iscariot) asked Jesus, “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?” On the surface this question seems innocuous enough—we might think there’s nothing outlandish in it. And yet, in this question Judas (not Iscariot) revealed a subtle sort of sinfulness that laid within him (and us), and it was there in this question about how Jesus revealed himself to this group of disciples and not the world. This is the sort of query that falls into a category I call “the humble brag.” Do you know what I mean by this term?

Let me give you a few examples of humble brags. It is like someone posting a poll to social media wondering, “Which of my Rolexes should I wear today?” or telling one’s friends how enlightened one is because “I meditated today!” or even publicly patting oneself on the back after completing some charitable act. Back in the Gospel according to John, Judas (not Iscariot) asked his question essentially wondering, “Why are we so awesome that you came to us? Why did you choose us over them?” So before we even get to Jesus’ response, we are off to a disheartening start.


Maybe this is why Jesus didn’t answer the question being asked. Perhaps this is why the formers of the Lectionary decided to omit Judas’ inquiry altogether—making the start of today’s lesson sort of clunky. Even with these shortcomings stated, if there is ever a time we need to dig into the secret arrogance and either/or combativeness hidden within this Judas’ question, it is right now.
We need to hear the egotism of this question because we live in a world of artificial distinctions, my group vs. your group, a world that is black or white, gay or straight, male or female, Pro-life or Pro-choice, Republican or Democrat, “Who’s in?” and “Who’s out?”

Judas (not Iscariot) beat us to the proverbial punch 2,000 years ago, but make no mistake, we all too often ask the same type questions of Jesus. Maybe we don’t say them out loud, but we think, “Jesus, how is it that you revealed yourself to us Episcopalians, but not the Baptists?” “Jesus, how is it that you revealed yourself to us on this side of the abortion issue, but not the ones on the other side?” “Jesus, how is it that you gave us the summer off from Church to go to the lake, the beach, or the baseball field, but you didn’t do the same for the Presbyterians across the street?” More simply put, “Jesus, aren’t we just so awesome that we’re your favorites?” The trouble is not only that we live in a defensive, divided, and discordant world—it’s that we are so well convinced that our side is on the right side of whatever divide is the topic of debate for the talking heads today. We would rather be right than be kind 11 times out of 10, or perhaps it is worse than that. Let me give you an illustration to help make my point.

Back in 1997 Leo Cullum, New Yorker cartoonist, depicted two dogs in suits sitting at a bar with a martini and a beer in front of them. The caption beneath read: “It’s not enough that we succeed. Cats must also fail.” This is what it’s come to—not just our success, but someone else’s failure at the same time. We’ve raised the question from “Jesus, why’d you choose us instead of the world?” to “Jesus, we know we’re awesome, but tell us how terrible those miserable sinners are!” It’s not even really a question anymore is it? And, as I imagine the next 526 days until the 2020 Election I cannot see a path to healing that emerges from the echo chambers of social media or the silos of cable news stations. So what do we do? How do we go on as people and politicians argue issues of climate change, health care, reproductive justice, immigration, basic human rights, and which lives matter? How do we keep going when in our own homes we feel divided struggling with transition, mental health, divorce, a suddenly empty nest, losing a job, or a legion of other challenges? Well, what did Jesus say when Judas (not Iscariot) asked his question?

In not so many words Jesus responded, “My Father and I will come not just to a few but to all who love me and keep my word. And not only this, we will not just come to them, but we will make our home with them.” What a beautiful phrase! God will make a home with those who keep God’s word. But, what do we mean by keeping God’s Word? Good question, I’m glad you asked. Let’s talk about God’s Word in two ways:

First, back in the opening of John’s Gospel account, we heard about the Word. “Through [the Word] all things were made. Not one thing came into being without the Word.” Everything exists because of God’s Word. And, I don’t think that’s something that happened in the past. At this very second, everything is being created! We are being made. We are being formed in God’s image. God continuously participates in the expansive moment of Creation. Every second of every day of every life in this universe is crafted by God. And the way that transpires is through the Word, the Christ. So, first we are made through, even out of God’s Word—sounds like it’s natural for us to have God make a home with us.

And, second, there’s another aspect of keeping God’s word. In this final teaching, this last pep talk that Jesus gave to his disciples he was building to an ultimate point. His new commandment for his followers. This Word was simply put by Jesus: Love one another. Love each other, like I loved you. Love each other by emptying yourselves into one another. Love each other like I loved Creation into being. Love each other to the point of foot washing, to the extent of being betrayed, and even as far as laying down your life for one another.

So, as we face all this divisiveness around us it’s helpful to remember that the person whom opposes you, that pig-headed one that doesn’t agree with your opinion… Well, that arrogant jerk is made in God’s image too. That selfish piece of... work is a child of God. And, as soon as we think we have it figured out about who’s on our team and how God’s definitely on our side, that’s the moment when God usually has some way of surprising us to say, “Guess what?! I’m making my home with that group as well because I make my home where people love each other, as I loved you.”

[Sigh] Ugh. This can feel so infuriating, right? Wouldn’t it be easier if Jesus just told us we were right and we didn’t have to change? But, he doesn’t! I think that’s why Jesus responded to Judas (not Iscariot) the way he did. Right when this Judas thought he had it figured out—right when he had to be thinking, “I’m doing so much better than that other Judas”—Jesus told him, I’m bringing peace in a way you do not expect that is not possible through the world’s means and I’m asking you to believe in me even when you can’t see the path forward. And, that is the gift that Christ offers to us as well: not assurance that it will all work out like we want it to work out, nor that our team will win it all, nor even that the downtrodden underdogs will pull the upset in this lifetime… BUT, rather when we love others as Jesus loved us, then God’s home will be with us no matter what happens.

God wants to make God’s home with us. Jesus tells us all it takes is us keeping his word to love one another. And, while that may not be the response from Jesus we want, it is the answer that brings us home to God.

Siding With Hope

Bishop Sloan addressing the 188th Convention of the Diocese of Alabama

This post is in response to the news from the Standing Committee announcing the Search and Transition Committees and Timeline for the 12th Bishop of Alabama

Back on February 9th of this year, the Rt. Rev. John McKee “Kee” Sloan called for the election of a Bishop Coadjutor in the Diocese of Alabama. During the bishop’s talk given to the 188th Convention of the Diocese of Alabama, Bishop Sloan in one fell swoop (in the form of a beautiful address) both announced his retirement (at the end of 2020) and put into motion the election of the 12th Bishop of the Diocese of Alabama. While some might have predicted this day was coming, any transition—and especially one of this importance in the Church—stirred up anxiety within the more times than not healthy Diocese of Alabama. So, recently I re-watched Bishop Kee’s speech chalked full of stories to this year’s convention...

Now, you might be wondering, “Why would you rewatch a bishop’s address? Are you a mindless numbskull? Are you bored? Don’t you have something better to do?” No, I’m not a knucklehead! No, I’m not bored! No, I don’t have too much time on my hands! I listened to Kee’s speech again for three reasons. First, I wanted to go back to the moment when we went from “this guy is going to be our bishop for forever,” to “Oh Lord, save us! Our bishop’s retiring!” Second, connected to this first reason, I wanted to see how the gathered body of the Diocese of Alabama immediately responded to such news. And third, I went back over this address because I have recently been called to serve on the Transition Committee for the Election of the 12th Bishop of Alabama. And, on top of reading through the canons (seemingly intentionally vague) and the Ordination of a Bishop, it felt good (meet for you Rite I Episcopalians) and right so to view the start of this transition once again. So, what did this review reveal? While there was no grand Epiphany or Easter egg within the speech that reassured me that this transition won’t challenge the Episcopal Church in Alabama, I did step away siding with hope. Why? Well, keep on reading...

In Kee’s almost forty-minute address (it’s a forty-one-minute video with a lengthy standing ovation at the end), an overarching theme emerged that it’s not my Church, your Church, or Kee’s Church, but God’s Church, and God's Church is going to be just fine—and throwing in my own two cents, the Church is especially fine when we trust and work with God and each other! Now, let me briefly review what the 11th Bishop of Alabama had to say in this address subtly about transition. After some beautiful stories about seeing our calling to be part of the Church as a privilege, Kee challenged his fellow Episcopalians to faithfully respond to the love of God by being good stewards of that which we have been given. There are a multitude of ways to do this, but at the core we are called to be grateful for our calling to serve God and each other in the Church and the world. Simple enough, right? But, what about this big, fat, scary transition from bishop #11 to #12?

Well, it was not until the 31:32 mark that Bishop Kee got around to calling for the election of a Bishop Coadjutor who will become the Bishop of Alabama at the end of 2020. While it took the bishop time to get to this announcement, throughout the address the forthcoming bishop transition was right beneath the surface the whole way (it's like rewatching The Sixth Sense or some other movie with a big plot twist). But, this was not the only thing hidden throughout the talk! Bishop Kee wove an even more important truth in this address, and it reverberated most profoundly at the end. When we feel like the Church is more a scared mystery than a sacred one, we must trust that it’s not our Church to begin with. In truth, we simply are the privileged ones who get to steward it into the next chapter. Using the lenses of Holy Scripture, reason, and tradition, I interpret our ministry as the placeholders, the ellipses in the history of the Church who bridge the gap between Jesus sending out his followers to make disciples of all people and the fulfillment of all things at Christ’s return. And, this truth really does make me hopeful, especially as the news becomes public about the timeline for electing our Bishop Coadjutor.

As the next few months’ work throughout the diocese comes into focus, I feel hopeful—not because I know something, nor because I have the perfect person in mind, nor because I hear everyone else being hopeful (because I’ve heard more than a little doubting). No, I feel hopeful because I trust that God’s Spirit indeed works among us, in us, through us, between us, and beyond us. I feel hopeful because this isn’t my diocese, your diocese, or Kee’s diocese, just like it’s not my Church, your Church, or Kee’s Church. This is a diocese of and the Church of Christ Jesus. Our founder, our leader, our head conquers brokenness, sin, and even death with unfettered, unending, unconditional love. I feel hopeful because, while the people who are on the Standing Committee, the Search Committee, and the Transition Committee are as flawed as anyone else in the world, they are faithful followers of Jesus. They are ones who trust in the truth that it’s not their Church, but God’s Church. And, I feel hopeful because the alternative—siding with fear—leads to bitterness, division, hatred, and nothingness, which runs antithetical to the Good News of Christ! Today and every day, I hope you will join Christ Jesus (and me) in siding with hope instead of fear, as we search for the 12th Bishop of Alabama.

Sometime next week, I will write a reflection regarding the Orientation Retreat that the Standing Committee of Alabama organized for the Search Committee and the Transition Committee who will oversee the transition from the 11th Bishop of Alabama to the 12th Bishop of Alabama. For now though, I commend to your prayers this search, our diocese, and specifically these courageous fools for Christ (see below) who are siding with hope and trusting that God’s Church is going to be just fine! Also, please read the announcement with more details of the timeline of the search. 

The Search Committee: 
Ms. Ellen Brooks – Ascension, Montgomery (Chair)
The Rev. Bill Blackerby – Retired, Birmingham (Co-chair)
Mr. Harrison Black – Holy Comforter, Montgomery
Mr. Bob Boylan – St. Luke’s, Birmingham
The Rev. Dr. Catherine Collier – Christ Church, Tuscaloosa
Mrs. Isabel Evans – St. Stephen’s, Huntsville
The Rev. Katherine Harper – St. Thomas, Huntsville
The Rev. Thomas Joyner – Chaplain, Trinity Commons, Birmingham
Mr. Frierson Mitchener – Trinity, Florence
Mrs. Maibeth J. Porter – Advent, Birmingham
The Rev. Pearl Slay, Deacon – St. Wilfrid’s, Marion
The Rev. Worth Stuart – Nativity, Huntsville
Ms. Shelton Griffith – Holy Trinity, Auburn (Youth Liaison)

The Search Committee will help develop a profile of the Diocese of Alabama as well as hopes we have for the next bishop, will accept names of potential candidates, will along with the Episcopal Church vet potential candidates, will conduct interviews with potential candidates, and eventually develop a slate of three to five candidates for the election.

The Transition Committee:
The Rev. Mollie Roberts – St. Simon Peter, Pell City (Chair)
Mr. Ralph Hobbs – St. Paul’s – Selma (Co-chair)
Mr. Jason Whatley – Holy Apostles, Hoover
Mrs. Susan McDowell – St. Stephen’s, Birmingham
Mr. Ray Peacock – St. James, Alex City
Mrs. Sonja Smith – St. Mark’s, Birmingham
The Rev. Malcolm Marler – UAB Chaplain, Birmingham
The Rev. Seth Olson – All Saints, Birmingham
Ms. Virginia Hillhouse – St. Stephen’s, Birmingham
Mr. Bingham Edwards – St. John’s, Decatur
The Rev. Bill Winters – Retired, Part-time Rector – St. Joseph’s-On-the-Mountain, Mentone

The Transition Committee, as the diocesan communication put it, will conduct "the logistics work of the Walkabout, election, and consecration pieces of the process as well as the logistics for travel for the nominees. [Additionally] certain members of the committee will serve as shepherds for the bishop-nominees—taking care of them during their stay in our diocese, through the election, and following up with them after as well." 

The Standing Committee:
The Rev. Candice Frazer – President
The Rev. Jayne Pool
The Rev. Andy Keys
The Rev. Tommie Watkins
Heyward Gould
Katie White
Julia Sanford
Anne Cook Burruss

The Standing Committee helped to put these committee members in place and now goes back to their very important role of  being "the Bishop’s Council of Advice."

Additionally the Search and Transition Committees are supported by The Rev. Marc Burnette who serves as Chaplain and the Rev. Rick Callaway (trained by the Episcopal Church and from the Diocese of Atlanta) who serves as Consultant.

Please pray the following prayer in your congregational and individual life of prayer:
God of wisdom and peace, you have gathered your faithful people, men and women of every nation, age, and color, in this diocese to humbly serve you: Look graciously on your Church and so guide the holy imagination of those who shall choose a bishop for this diocese, that we may receive a faithful pastor,  who will care for your people and equip us for our ministries by igniting in us creative compassion and inspiring us to a relentless proclamation of your love; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Regenerative Ministry

Sustainability is step one, but how is God calling us even further into co-creative ministry?

This article appeared in the May 8th edition of the All Saints Parishioner

Inside some national and state parks there are signs saying: “Take only pictures, leave only footprints.” The implication of this message rings clearly, as it calls visitors to leave no trace of their presence in the park. This dutiful practice of stewardship stands out as noble, but what if we went a step further—not only in parks, but throughout the whole earth?

This past week the clergy and clergy spouses in the Diocese of Alabama gathered for our annual Clergy Conference at Camp McDowell. Unlike many times when work colleagues gather together with the intention of conducting business, this time serves as a respite. It is meant for rest and relaxation for clergy and their families who have just finished the wonderful but exhausting seasons of Lent and Holy Week. Even if this time is a laidback combination of a family reunion and a parish retreat, it does not mean that these days at camp do not produce something profound for the clergy to share with their parishes. In truth, during the days at camp last week a theme emerged that takes the aforementioned practice of sustainability to another level. Namely, God is calling us in the Church to go beyond leaving things the way we found them, so that we can move into producing regenerative ministries.

What does regenerative mean? Good question! Regeneration has to do with being renewed, restored, and even spiritually reborn. As St. Paul so eloquently put it in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Cor. 5:17). Being made new stands out as the goal of our life with Christ! The Rev. Corey Jones, former Youth Minister at All Saints and new Executive Director of Camp McDowell spoke about how the camp staff is focusing on not simply sustaining or maintaining the programs and the facilities in place, but also leaving everything better than how they found it. As Camp McDowell’s tagline is “The way the world could be,” this mission of regeneration serves as a call for us at All Saints, in our diocese, and out in the world to pursue.

What would it look like if we went beyond sustaining and maintaining God’s work? How might we leave All Saints, the Church, and the world better than we found it? What is God’s dream for regenerative ministry among us?  

Last week as I continued to let this theme and these questions percolate in my soul, it seemed like everything at Clergy Conference pointed towards growth and rebirth. Perhaps it was simply because we were all in an Easter mood, but I suspect the Holy Spirit was at work. Bishop Kee challenged the clergy to think creatively about the diocesan ministries in which we share, as we boldly take ownership of things we may not always think of as “churchy” (see: Sawyerville Day Camp, Episcopal Place’s Gumbo Gala, or the Environmental Center at Camp McDowell). The Rev. Candice Frazier, head of the diocesan Standing Committee, spoke regarding the upcoming bishop’s election (stay tuned for communications from the diocese about that process). Clergy conversations about the next Bishop of Alabama invoked hope for what good ministries we might improve upon and what struggling areas we might allow God to regenerate with us. Most profoundly the Rev. Donna Mote, a guest speaker who serves as a chaplain at the Atlanta International Airport, as an adjunct faculty member at Sewanee’s School of Theology, and as the Missioner for Engagement and Innovation in the Diocese of Atlanta challenged our clergy to take the Church out into the world. 

Particularly in conversations with the Rev. Mote, I heard clergy being hopeful about how we might take the gifts we have been given in the Church to those who might be reluctant to walk through our front doors on Sunday mornings. As we sat in rocking chairs on the front porch of a lodge in Parsley Commons, my wife Kim asked the Rev. Mote what this going out into the world might actually look like in real life. After a moment of thinking, the Rev. Mote responded by sharing a dream she has had for many years. With two sons who grew up playing soccer games on Sunday mornings, she struggled with how her family could get to church in between matches. A Catholic teammate had gone to church on the Saturday night after that day’s games concluded, but this was not an option for her Episcopalian family. Eventually an idea emerged. What if the Eucharist came to the soccer fields instead of the soccer families coming to the Church? It was an interesting concept and one that stimulated our conversation for the better part of the evening.

God is calling us to be creative with how we reach out to those who may not already know the transformational love of God. Maybe regenerative, restorative, resurrection-focused ministry does not look like soccer field communion services, maybe it is a “Theology on Tap” meeting in a Birmingham brewery, small groups meeting in each other’s homes, or a parents’ bible study during a playdate at Homewood Park. Maybe it is something that we cannot yet fathom in this moment. All Saints already has so many renewing ministries in place. And while none of these new ideas should discount or diminish what God is currently doing among us, God is always calling us to dream up new ways to share the overwhelmingly good news of Christ’s redeeming love.

What is something restorative that you can do for yourself and can take out into the community? How can we best utilize the Spirit’s regenerative presence among us? Where are we to meet Christ out in the world making things even better than we found them?

Bonus Good News

Today's Gospel lesson is like a hidden scene at the end of an Avengers movie, but even better!

© Seth Olson 2019

May 5, 2019—3rd Sunday of Easter

Acts 9:1-6, (7-20)
Psalm 30
Revelation 5:11-14
John 21:1-19

At the end of last week’s Gospel lesson—which just so happens to be the text that immediately precedes today’s story—we heard the following words: “But these [things] are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” Boom! End of story! Roll the credits…

But, wait! There’s more! Today we heard another story—an additional bit of the Good News of Christ. Some scholars really think this story was an addition to the Gospel according to John. This makes me think of a hidden scene that happens after the credits in a movie, like the ones snuck into the end of The Avengers franchise. No Endgame spoilers, I promise. I haven’t even seen it. So, what we have today is bonus good news! But, what do we learn from this surprise passage?

This story is rich! It overflows with meaning—that and confusion! It’s a weird passage, and we’ll get to that in a minute. But, if you remember no other detail from today’s story, take this bit home with you: If we are going to fulfill our calling to go out sharing the love and ministry of Christ, we need the risen Christ guiding and sustaining us. Whether we are talking about casting nets for fish in the Sea of Tiberias in 1st Century Galilee or we are describing the modern day mission of All Saints’ Church in 21st Century Birmingham, we must have the risen Christ leading us and feeding us! Now, let’s see how Christ led and fed in this very strange story and how this bonus good news can guide the work we do as we follow Christ.

At the end of John’s Gospel account, after Jesus had risen, breathed the Holy Spirit on his disciples, allayed Thomas’ doubts, and shared peace and bread with his followers, a certain group of disciples went back to their old way of living—hold on, what? This doesn’t make sense! They didn’t immediately go off to share the overwhelming power of the Resurrection? No, not according to John. Isn’t this like winning the lottery and going back to work in a cubical? Maybe, but maybe they just needed something familiar for a few days. Regardless, they went fishing, and honestly they stunk at it!

Simon Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, James, John, and two other disciples spent an entire night trying to pull in fish. A preacher I once heard, attested that night fishing is the best time to catch fish in the Sea of Tiberias. Somehow though these disciples had come up empty-netted. Maybe they were distracted by the risen Christ sending them out into the world or perhaps this story is not really about catching fish at all, whatever the case these previously professional fishermen went zero for an entire night. And so with nothing to show for their efforts, they made way for the beach.

Just after daybreak—that is to say right after the sun (Son) had risen (see what I did there? Ugh, terrible Resurrection humor...)—just after daybreak they came to shore, and who did they see? Well, they didn’t know who it was at that moment. So, a stranger yelled out to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” Hanging their heads, they said, “No.” The stranger recommended they toss the net on the right side of the boat. If it had been me, I might have said something snide under my breath, like, “You don’t think we tried the right side of the boat.” But, fortunately for this story, I wasn’t there because when the disciples followed this stranger’s command immediately their nets were filled with so many fish that they had a hard time controlling their nets. John, a.k.a. the disciple that Jesus loved told Peter that this guy on the beach must be the Lord and not a stranger. In this overflowing catch we see that the risen Christ was leading his followers onward, but what happened next is so strange that it deserves some unpacking.

As John told Peter that the person on the shore was the risen Lord, Peter realized he was naked. He didn’t know this before? This seems like a strange enough detail—and we’ll come back to it in a second, but then, Peter put on some clothes and only after this did he dive into the water. There weren’t bathing suits back then, so we’re talking about swimming in some sort of linen garment to the shore. WEIRD, right?! So, let’s jump back now. Why did Peter freak out about being naked in front of the Lord? He was obviously okay with naked fishing with his fellow disciples, but when Christ Jesus is spotted Peter puts on clothes. Why? He was embarrassed, he was scared, he was ashamed…

Peter recognizing his nakedness and reaching for something to cover himself  hearkens back to the story of Adam and Eve hiding themselves from God in the Garden of Eden. In both stories the humans struggled with being vulnerable in front of God. Adam and Eve were ashamed because they had disobeyed. Peter was ashamed because he had denied. Even if Christ Jesus had risen from the dead overcoming sin and death, Peter was still carrying around his guilt from denying his relationship with Jesus three times on Good Friday morning. Peter was still stuck in that moment. He had not yet moved on from it. And so, he hid that most vulnerable part of himself—at least for a moment.

Now while Peter may have clothed himself, he did immediately swim to shore so that he could see the risen Christ. After the breakfast in which they had some fish—a few of the 153 that they had caught, which by the way Charles tells me is the number of different kinds of fish in the Sea of Tiberias, which is to say that God wants all of us together in one net—after this fish breakfast of champions the risen Christ went about untying and untangling the knot of denial that Peter had been ensnared in for days. Through a series of questions and callings we see not just Peter’s way forward but our own way. Jesus had fed his followers and now he was leading them into new life by leading Peter into forgiveness and beyond.

The risen Christ’s questions and Peter’s answers appear simple, still there’s more here than just a question and a response. Jesus asked Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” Notice Jesus did not call him by his nickname “Peter,” which means Rock, as in the rock on which I will build this movement. Was this rock sturdy enough? The risen Christ was cutting through to who Simon-Peter truly was. Also, the risen Christ wondered if Simon loved him more than these? These what? These other ones on the beach seems the most obvious answer. And, perhaps through this the risen Christ was pointing out that Simon-Peter felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable and even naked around them, but not around him. Do you really love me more than these if you cannot bear your soul to me?

Peter replied to Jesus’ question by saying, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” To this, the risen Christ replied, “Feed my lambs.” In the subsequent questions Jesus’ calling is to tend and feed his sheep. In all three cases we find that connected to Peter’s love of Christ is a call to care. The same is true for us. Jesus led Simon-Peter out of his shame into a place of vulnerability where he was called to fed, tend, and love his fellow sheep. This trajectory, this calling is our own as well.

The risen Christ knows us even in our most vulnerable, naked state. Through Christ all of us were made. God has known us for forever. And in the moments when we like Peter deny Christ, God still sees us and still loves us. It seems no mistake that Peter on that boat had to go through the water and had to be nourished with a meal before he was fully restored with Christ. Doesn’t that sound a lot like Holy Baptism and Holy Eucharist?

On this day when we welcome Magnolia Jane as a new member of Christ’s Body through the waters of Baptism, on this day when we are spiritually fed at Christ’s Table, we see that God is ever feeding us and leading us. And, like Peter we are asked, “Do you love me more than these?” If we respond, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” We will also hear the risen Christ calling us to fed, tend, and love our fellow sheep. The risen Christ is ever feeding us and leading us into feeding, tending, and loving one another. When Christ asks, “Do you love me more than these?” Our response then is “No, I love you through loving these!” Amen.

Lay Everything Aside and Love

An Orthodox icon of Jesus washing the disciples' feet

© Seth Olson 2019

April 18, 2019—Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-17, 31b-35

As a child, I had a hard time understanding Maundy Thursday. When I was about six-years-old, my dad and I dropped off my mom and sister at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church on Southside for this very service, the Maundy Thursday liturgy. Instead of attending the powerful foot washing and Institution of Holy Communion, we drove further into Birmingham to Boutwell Auditorium. “Why?” you ask. Well, so that we could attend a live-action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles show, of course. The lights, the pyrotechnics, and the action were spellbinding. I walked out of that facility with my feet several inches off the ground. Then, we went back to St. Andrew’s to pick up my mom and sister.

I remember running to the side chapel and being stopped in my tracks as I pulled open the door. Expecting to see smiling, happy faces and a well-lit sanctuary like usual, instead I saw something I had never before seen at church. In the bleak candlelight, I beheld tear-soaked cheeks and solemn faces of the devoutly anguished parishioners who were inside the unlit, cavernous space. And, as we walked from the darkness of the church into the darkness of the night, I tried to comfort my mom. Although, I was confused about the reason for her sadness. So I said, “Don’t worry mom, the ninja turtles will be back someday and you can go see them.” I had missed the point entirely. Like the disciples of old, I couldn’t comprehend what was happening around me that night. I later wondered more earnestly, “What were they doing at church?” I still think that’s a helpful question: What are we doing here tonight?

In St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians we just heard words so familiar that they may not have even registered in our minds, let alone our hearts. “Do this… in remembrance of me.” Even if these words did not arrest us such that they impacted us deep in our souls, we are familiar with them and to where they point us. The bread and the wine when we gather to remember Christ become His Body and His Blood. We eat and drink them to become the Body ourselves in this sacred, sacramental mystery. This is the most fitting night of the Church year to take part in Holy Communion, and yet our Gospel lesson does not mention bread or wine at all. Again, what are we doing here tonight?

This night is not simply a night when we remember the Institution of Holy Communion during the Lord's Last Supper, it is also a night when we hear Jesus give us a new commandment. This is why, as you may know, we call this night Maundy Thursday. Maundy from the Latin word mandatum meaning commandment. What was Jesus’ New Command?

“Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you should love one another.” What does this love look like? As we search through John’s telling of the Good News, we do not find Jesus sealing this commandment “to love” with bread and wine, but rather with a towel and a basin. As we imagine the teacher kneeling to wash his disciples’ feet, we can hardly comprehend just how strange this act truly was.

Foot washing is odd. It’s just plain weird. We do not normally wash each other’s feet. Sure, occasionally some of us may get a pedicure, but we do not then reciprocate the action of the pedicurist. Other than on Maundy Thursday, have you ever washed another person’s feet or had your feet washed? It is a rare act. And while the altar guild, acolytes, clergy, and congregation, all of us, have prepared for the logistics of this unique night, none of us can fully prepare for how intimate, humbling, and even embarrassing foot washing truly is. This is what we are doing this night, we are remembering Christ’s commandment to love by doing what he did to show this love. We are taking part in the self-giving love that Christ Jesus showed his disciples—the same self-emptying love that God has for each one of us and for all of humanity.

Of course, this almost practical question of “What are we doing?” is not the only one worth pondering this night. Jesus himself made another inquiry. After washing his followers’ feet, he quizzed, “Do you know what I have done for you?” The disciples wisely remained quiet. Even with 2,000 years we still have a hard time comprehending fully what it was Jesus did for us.

John’s Gospel account described Jesus as “the Good Shepherd,” “the Light of the World,” “the Resurrection and the Life,” “the Vine,” and “the One through whom all things were made,” and this one, the Christ, the Messiah, God Incarnate stooped down to rinse off the grim from his friends’ feet. To wipe away the filth caked between their toes remains a subservient act so profound that we mostly come up short in our grasping for modern analogies. Cleaning out a loved one’s bedpan? Bathing a dying parent’s body? Kneeling to wipe vomit from a sick child’s face? These and others come close, but none completely unlock just how powerful Jesus’ loving example was. But, during the next three days, the holiest ones in our common life, we won't just strive to understand foot washing, but all of what Christ Jesus has done for us. What has God done for us through Christ?

Even if we cannot unlock these sacred mysteries, we are called to experience the completeness of Christ Jesus’ saving work. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday are not about understanding with our minds, but allowing our souls to gaze upon the loving acts of God. These three days we see most clearly how far, how deep, and how wide God’s love is. The acts of Christ Jesus clarified once and for all that nothing separates us from the redeeming love of God.

As the Anglican Divine Jeremy Taylor put it, “Thus God lays everything aside, that he may serve his servants; heaven stoops to earth, and one abyss calls [to] another, and the miseries of humanity, which were next to infinite, are excelled by a mercy equal to the immensity of God.” [1] What has God done for us? God has laid everything aside, crossed the abyss, and loved us. What is more, God has commanded us to love one another.

Thus we bring out bowls and pitchers, we partake in bread and wine, Christ’s Body and Blood, and we leave this church in darkness. We recall in prayer Jesus’ birth, his baptism, his teachings, his healings, and his life. And, we walk with Jesus this night to the garden and tomorrow to Golgatha, to Calvary, and to the Cross. The totality of what God has done we may never comprehend. We may only understand this mystery through a glass dimly, as St. Paul put it. So instead may we, like God, lay everything aside, may we take part in these holy mysteries, and may we love one another as Christ has loved us.

[1] Taylor, Jeremy, 1613-1667, Reginald Heber, and Charles Page Eden. The Whole Works of the Right Rev. Jeremy Taylor. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1847-1856, Volume 2:628-629, https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.b3944186;view=1up;seq=649. Accessed April 18, 2019.

Just Show Up

My 22 year-old self happened to have more wisdom than I previously thought.

Sometimes life seems awfully complicated. When the bills keep mounting, when our jobs demand too much, when our kids’ extracurricular schedules just do not line up, when a parent’s health keeps deteriorating, or when many other things do not happen the way we wish they would life feels overly difficult. In these and other moments of challenge, it can feel daunting to make even one decision. We may want to respond by simply throwing up our hands and walking away. And, today our culture tells us we can. Society now provides all too many ways to avoid the difficulties of everyday living.

Now seemingly more than at any other time in human history people have access to escapes. Whether it is TV shows, video games, Virtual Reality, psychoactive substances, or many other distractions, we now have very accessible ways to avoid everyday life. Steven Spielberg utilized this premise in the 2018 film, Ready Player One. The renowned filmmaker envisioned a not so distant future when no one worked and everyone found their purpose in a Virtual Reality world. While this movie might appear as an extreme example, the truth that escapism is near an all-time high can simply be measured by how frequently people now use the phrase, “Adulting is hard.” So what are we to do when the difficulties of everyday life have us down? To answer this question let me tell you a story.

Back in the fall of 2006 I was a scrawny college kid with a big bushy mustache and long flowing locks of hair down near my shoulders. That autumn term at Sewanee I was a first semester senior who was unquestionably driven. On top of some seriously challenging courses, leading the residential life program, and working in the chapel as a sacristan, I was serving as the cross-country team’s captain. That season I ran the best times of my life. I met or exceeded almost every goal I had set. I earned good grades, worked really hard, made fantastic memories, and even was selected as an Academic All-American (one of the greatest accomplishments of my life). It would be easy for me to say that my life then was not as complicated as it is now, but it sure felt tough balancing many important commitments. When I wonder how I kept going through it all, one thing comes back time and time again.

Throughout that whole semester what mattered most was not perfection. It was not making the perfect score on a test, coming up with a perfect solution for a res-life problem, setting up the chapel perfectly, or running the perfect race. No, what mattered was showing up. What truly mattered then and why that time was so rich had everything to do with being there in the moment. I couldn't possibly read everything, make every meeting, or hit every pace exactly, but I could be there. Sure, I could say, "This was before the explosion of social media, pre-smart phones, and long before the responsibilities I have now." And yet, this stumbled upon wisdom from that fall long ago calls out to challenge me this week especially.

Sometimes as a preacher, I want everything to be perfect. I want my sermon to resonate so deeply with the congregation, so I reach as I try to hit a “home run” sermon. Sometimes as a liturgist, I aim for services, especially during Holy Week, to be so moving that people leave changed. Sometimes as a priest, I yearn to be such a compassionate pastor, wise spiritual director, and forward looking prophet that I end up in a million different places at once, which is to say I end up nowhere and everywhere else other than where I am. This week though I hear God bidding me, and us not to worry about getting everything perfect. This Holy Week is completely and totally about showing up.

Throughout this holiest of weeks in the Church, nothing we do will add to the saving work of Christ Jesus. We cannot make God's perfecting love any better. Every sermon ought to be about the preacher getting out of the way such that the congregation comes face-to-face with the greatest story ever told. Every liturgy ought to be about the clergy, altar guild, flower guild, readers, Eucharistic ministers, and acolytes pointing the congregation in the direction of what God has done for us. Every day is at its best another opportunity for us to show up and witness the overwhelming, unconditional, and limitless love that God has for us. This week is not about us being perfect or getting everything perfect, this week is about God’s perfection. Holy Week is about God’s fulfilling love, which overcomes all our mistakes, sins, and even death. Just show up and see what God does.

Riotous Living

This Sunday's Gospel lesson is so well known that even Michael Scott knows it!

This past Sunday night I joked with the 5:30 congregation that I thought I was being pranked by my fellow clergy. My first Sunday in the pulpit at All Saints' Church, I got to take on the challenging passage from Luke 4:1-13 in which the Devil tempted Jesus with three tests. Then last Sunday, my second time in the pulpit, I had the "privilege" of preaching on Luke 13:1-9, which can easily be misinterpreted as a "turn or burn" story that personifies God as an angry and impatient landowner in a parable about a fig tree. FUN STUFF (and by that I mean two challenging passages that left me wondering if I was being punked)! These two lessons were hardly cheery stories that described God as a loving and ever pursing presence in our lives, which is precisely who I believe God is. But, turn the page to this week's Gospel lesson from Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32, and you will find just that image of a loving father.

This week's Good News brings us back in touch with one of the most famous and familiar stories of the New Testament. The Parable of the Prodigal Son (also known as the Parable of the Prodigal Sons, the Parable of the Prodigals, or the Parable of the Loving Father) is so well known that even Michael Scott (Steve Carell's character from the Office) knows the gist of it. The quick summary is that the younger of two sons made a request to get his inheritance ahead of his father's death, after shockingly complying with the son's request, the younger son wasted the resources in desolate living, then came home to beg to be his father's servant. Surprisingly the father did not let his son be a servant, but instead welcomed him home as a son once more. The older brother frustrated with the show of love from his father complained, which the father graciously turned into an invitation to celebrate the new life of the younger son after his having come home. Of course, if you are reading this you already knew all of that. And, the challenge (unlike the last two times I was in the pulpit) is not with difficult images from Scripture, but rather an all too familiar story. How will the preacher help the congregation to hear this radical story with new ears? Here are a few ideas!

"I WANT IT NOW!" - We live in a culture that wants everything now. Some call it "Microwave Culture" or blame it on technology, but nowadays people want 2 day shipping, same day pickup, and immediate high speed downloads of everything. Society in this way resembles the younger brother who despite the protocol demanded his portion of his family's wealth NOW! (See Veruca Salt from Willy Wonky) The details of the father having to sell or portion up his property in this way are painful and could be a good jumping off point for a sermon. The latter part of the story (and the father's loving embrace of his once estranged son) often overshadows the first details, but the father's love was so great throughout the story. Early on the father even accepted that his son wanted him dead, so that the son could have the father's property. Still the father kept on loving his son. This is the type of love God has for us... a love worth preaching about this Sunday!

The Liturgical Approach - If you walk into your church on Sunday and your clergy are wearing pink turn around... Okay, I'm just kidding! But, the Fourth Sunday in Lent is called Laetare Sunday. And, it is when Anglo Catholics and other fashion-focused Christians don pink liturgical vestments (okay, it's not about being chic Christians). All joking aside, this Sunday is named such for the first words of the Roman Catholic Mass, which in Latin is Laetare or Rejoice! Why are we rejoicing? Well, historically if you were living in strict observance of your Lenten disciplines then perhaps this day would be a small break from those most rigid of disciplines before the final push through Holy Week and the impending Eastertide. This Sunday's Gospel lesson fits with the lightness of a traditional Laetare Sunday. In what ways do we need to lighten up? How is our Heavenly Father pursuing us like the father from the parable? Can we share with Him all the burdens keeping us from blossoming in this spiritual springtime? These are some questions worth wondering.

Riotous Living - The most surprising thing I have found this week in my study of this Sunday's Gospel has been the way one Greek word was translated into English. On Sunday you will most likely hear the deacon or the priest or the pastor read that the younger son "squandered his property in dissolute living." Dissolute is not all that common a word in our everyday parlance (neither is parlance, mind you). In truth, when I hear the word dissolute I immediately think of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. However, one Greek Interlinear I rely upon gives us Luke 15:13 in this way: "And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living" (italics added)...

RIOTOUS LIVING! The passage opened up in quite a different way for me when I read this translation. Dissolute living has a sad connotation in my mind, as it rightly should, it means an overly indulgent, vice-focused form of living; however, riotous living gives me a different insight into the life of the younger son. The younger prodigal living riotously in that foreign land calls to mind the right desire (to live life abundantly) but wrongly aimed at selfish ends. How many people in the pews are passionate about life, but do not know in what direction to steer that ambition? I would imagine most have felt like they have desire without purpose at one time or another... maybe even right now. This could be the perfect time to tell this story from a new perspective. Instead of simply thinking about how terrible these brothers are could we try to see them as mirrors for us as we grow into the full stature of Christ? How might we utilize our desire for good as we grow? How might we avoid being the overly righteous older prodigal son when we do seem to find our right purpose? Can we become like the loving father who embraces all?

There are so many directions in which a preacher might go this Sunday. While this Gospel lesson might not possess the same challenge as a passage about the devil's temptations or one focused on turning or burning, it does still have its own set of challenges. Namely, that we have heard it all too many times, that its initial surprise ending has become rote, and that we think we already know how to interpret it. However, a faithful preacher will help us to hear these transformational words anew, so that we are again in awe of the grace-filled, abundant love that God shows us through Christ.