2nd Sunday of Christmas - Year A (John 1:10-18)

This Sunday’s text focuses on recognition and, more importantly, lack of recognition.  John’s gospel is, in many ways, all about spiritual blindness.  Human beings, apart from grace, are unable to see things as they really are.  This blindness leads to frequent incidents of misunderstanding and misidentification.  Faith brings grace and grace brings sight.  Once we can see, we are able to see Jesus Christ for who he truly is, the Word by whom all things were created become flesh.  Through that incarnate Word, we are able to see God.  Whatever we want to know about God we can know in and through our knowledge of Jesus Christ.

1st Sunday of Christmas - Year A (Matthew 2:13-23)

Joseph, like the patriarch for whom he was named, appears to have been a dreamer.  Our contemporary culture doesn’t put much stock in dreams and even less in dreams as a direct communication from God.  Acting on information received in a dream is simply unreasonable.  And yet, as the philosopher Blaise Pascal once said, “love has reasons which reason cannot understand”.   Lovers do believe in dreams.  Couples dream of a future together.  Parents dream futures for their children.  God, it seems, has dreams for us – divine dreams united with our human dreams.  The prophet Joel promised that the old would dream dreams and young see visions.   God’s promise is revealed to us in the totality of our human experience, not simply through our intellect.  Joseph’s openness to God’s dream for the world allowed him to move beyond righteousness to grace and to thwart the powers of this world set on foiling God’s redemptive plan. 

Being a "good" dreamer ironically requires a perpetual kind of wakefulness.  In other words, we have to pay attention.  We pray for eyes to see, ears to hear and hearts filled with desire.

4th Sunday of Advent - Year A (Matthew 1:18-25)

Except for the wise men which popular imagination tacks on to the end of the Lucan nativity account and the quote from the Septuagint version of Isaiah, Matthew’s telling of the story plays very little role in our Christmas traditions. It seems to me however that what might be called the “Annunciation to Joseph” has some important lessons to teach us. First among those is the fact that although Joseph is “righteous”, that righteousness based on the Law is insufficient for the task at hand. The angel (the evangelist) announces the Gospel to Joseph who then, by grace, is lead to take Mary and her child into his home. Joseph acts on faith in the promise of God.
Secondly, it is important to note that despite our later romanticizing of the event, Joseph’s relationship to both Mary and Jesus falls well outside what we have come to call the traditional family. The presence in our world of “God with us” reorders human relationships in new and surprising ways; even creating a family where there was none. As Christians, all of our relationships are contingent upon our relationship with Jesus. New family structures are evaluated in light of that relationship with Christ and not the demands of the law which did not allow for the formation of what we have come to call the “holy family”.

3rd Sunday of Advent – Year A (Matthew 11:2-11)

The Baptizer’s disciples ask Jesus if he is the one who is to come. Jesus replies that the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. I am not blind, lame, a leper, deaf, dead or poor. Of course it is possible to spiritualize this list to make it applicable to everyone, but I think Jesus’ intentions were quite literal. So what, then, does the advent of the Christ have to do with me or, depending on your circumstances, you? For those of us outside these categories, Jesus asks only that we do not take offence at his preference for the outcast. It is to the homeless shelter, the AIDs clinic, the mental hospital and the welfare office that Christ comes. His advent is first of all for them and it is from the abundance of blessing and healing for them that we too find the free gift of grace. Blessed are those who do not take offence.

2nd Sunday of Advent - Year A (Matt. 3:1-12)

I’ve often been struck this time of year by the contrast between the image of John the Baptist presented to the Church each year on the Second Sunday of Advent and that of the shopping mall Santa Claus who has such a draw on the popular imagination this time of year. I’m not referring to the ancient St. Nicholas, but to his contemporary expression. Honestly, I don’t have anything against Santa Claus. There is though, a lesson to be learned as we compare Santa with The Baptist and hopefully realize that we need them both.

A popular way of speaking of the Reign of God initiated in Christ is to say that it is both now and not yet.

Our chubby well fed and warmly dressed Santa Claus, bringing gifts with a hearty Ho! Ho! Ho! is the rich symbol of all the grace available to us, even now, as free gift through faith in Jesus Christ.

John is a potent symbol of God’s sovereign rule not yet fully realized. His gaunt frame is a reminder of all for which we still hunger. John reminds us that while we have been made righteous in Christ we are still sinners and in need of repentance.

It’s unlikely that John the Baptist will be replacing or even joining Santa Claus at the local shopping mall anytime soon. All the more important then, that we embrace his image and message as he comes to us this Second Sunday of Advent.

Sermon for the 1st Sunday of Advent - Year A (Matt 24:36-44)

Advent, as today’s Gospel proclaims, is all about watching and waiting. The big question of course, is, what exactly are we waiting for? At first glance, it seems that there as many answers to that question as there are people.




Some are waiting to die while others are waiting to start living.



Some are waiting for a cure while others just want the pain to end.



Some are waiting for true love. Some would be happy with a decent meal and a warm bed.



Some are looking for that perfect job and yet others are looking for any job at all.



Isaiah was waiting for peace.



What are you waiting for?



As believers, all of our desires are somehow tied up with our faith. Ultimately, no matter what the details or specifics, we’re all waiting for God to do something for us that we cannot do for ourselves. That’s actually a pretty good definition of salvation. Lord, come and save us! Save us from loneliness and despair. Save us from hunger and loss. Save us from pain and death. Lord, come and save us, for we are unable to save ourselves!

Isaiah was waiting for a day that looks far different from the world in which we currently live. Experts tell us that we are looking at several more years of war in Afghanistan. There are still American troops on the ground in Iraq. Tensions on the Korean peninsula have reached levels not seen since the armistice almost 60 years ago. India and Pakistan threaten each other with nuclear annihilation and a new nuclear arms treaty between the U.S. and Russia is now on hold. Smaller wars and skirmishes across the developing world seldom even show up on our first world radar. And as for the “mountain of the Lord’s house” in Jerusalem, tensions between Israel and Palestine continue unresolved.



As Christians, we rightly urge our government to choose peace over war, to implement policies that tackle injustice and to endeavor to dialog with enemies. We support the work of international groups such as the U.N. flawed as it might be, to make peace. To shut our mouths and sit on our hands is not an option for Christians. At the same time, however, we have to recognize the limits of our efforts. It is, in the end, God’s work in Christ. And so, with Isaiah, we wait.



The eradication of human war prophesied by Isaiah is just the tip of the iceberg . The wars fought in our own hearts, the wars between individuals and within families, the wars between cells that cause disease, the wars between carnivores competing on the food chain, the wars between tectonic plates that cause earthquakes, the wars between weather systems that cause hurricanes and tornados – none of these wars will be taught any more. That’s a “doosey” of a promise!

God’s promises really are outlandish. God, in Christ Jesus, promises not only the salvation of our souls but the salvation of, or better yet, the utter transformation of, all creation. This new world where war is no longer taught is built on the foundation of the world we know and experience but with everything changed. Like the risen Christ appearing to the apostles, strangely familiar but completely different at the same time.



God promises and we wait.



I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of waiting! Really! I’m not just saying it to make a point. I’m tired of waiting for swords to be beaten into plowshares. I’m tired of waiting for an end to hunger. I’m tired of being lonely even among family and friends. I’m tired of having friends get cancer. I’m tired of the aches, pains, and losses that come with getting older. I am tired that all that is beautiful and good and precious in our world is tinged with sadness and death. We, (I think I speak for most of us now) are tired of waiting.



You see, my brothers and sisters, we are faced with only two options this first Sunday of Advent if we indeed take this season seriously. We must either admit that we don’t really expect anything to change or we have to express our frustration with God’s apparent slowness to keep the promises made through Isaiah and the other prophets.



Most of us are here today because we have somehow managed, by God’s grace to hold on to God’s promise in Christ. We really do expect something to happen. We believe that all of creation is on a journey toward wholeness and redemption and that the death and resurrection of Jesus, for us and our salvation, has cosmic significance. We believe and so we have no choice but to complain. In so doing, we join our voices to those of countless others down through the centuries who have complained as well.



If we take the time to probe the scriptures during this Advent season, we discover the impatient voices of our ancestors in the faith. God’s outrageous promises have been met with equally outrageous demands from people like us – people tired of waiting. Rend the heavens and come down! How long O Lord? My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Come Lord Jesus, come!



To understand the moment of crisis implicit in this season, we first have to rid ourselves of the notion that Advent is really just a nice little four week preparation for Christmas. This season does look back to the Incarnation and birth of Jesus, but only insofar as the life, death and resurrection of Jesus are the means through which all God’s promises are ultimately fulfilled. Advent is about nothing less than the final fulfillment of all things in Christ, the coming of that great day when Christ will hand over the kingdom to the Father and God will be all in all.


And so, my brothers and sisters, we do watch and wait during this season of Advent. But we don’t do it quietly. The recognition of our deepest longings together with our faith in the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ and his outrageous promises demands outrage at God’s slowness. It is no wonder then that the New Testament ends with just such a cry. The Spirit and the Bride say come! Let all who hear say come! Come, Lord Jesus!

Amen!

Christ the King - Year C (Luke 23: 33-43)

Waking up this morning to the news that the UK’s Prince William is engaged reminded me of the fascination many Americans have with the trappings of royalty. At the same time, Americans have little use for the idea in practice. This is certainly not to say, however, that Americans are not taken with wealth and power.
It’s just that in general, Americans prefer their royalty to be so called self-made men. (And yes, they are usually men.) There is little patience with those who are down on their luck, especially those who find themselves on the streets or, even worse, in jail. Losers!

The Gospel for Christ the King Sunday brings us, not to Buckingham Palace, but to the dirty streets of Jerusalem and the site of a bloody execution. The crucified Christ is not the kind of royalty most Americans find appealing. By all appearances, Jesus is a loser.

Royalty in the context of the cross brings to the forefront the radical reversals that characterized Jesus’ teaching. The reign of God is nothing less than the world and its values turned upside down. With the cross as his throne, Jesus welcomes all his fellow “losers” into the fullness of life.

25th Sunday after Pentecost - Year C (Luke 21:5-19)

In the incarnation God pitched the divine tent, not in a building, but in a human body. Jesus Christ, the living temple, was given up to his enemies and destroyed. Death and destruction were not the last word. Jesus Christ was raised from the dead. In every age the cruciform pattern of death and resurrection is made concrete in the lives of Christians. While for some, this pattern is reproduced literally in their martyrdoms, for most of us, it is the daily dying and rising begun in our baptism and lived out daily by virtue of God’s grace at work in us.

Wars, earthquakes, famines, and plagues occur with painful frequency and have done so from the beginning. The cross casts its shadow not only on individuals but on nations, peoples and creation itself. Our evangelical mission is to proclaim the wisdom of the cross and the promise of the resurrection to people who see only death and destruction while not failing to take their suffering seriously.

All Saints Day(observed) - Year C (Luke6: 20-31)_

Although it would generally never happen in a church that follows the lectionary, I have read about more than one Evangelical Christian who claimed to have never heard the Sermon on the Mount or its Lucan parallel preached on or even read in church for that matter. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise anyone that this would be the case and we who are forced to come to terms with these hard teachings by the lectionary might well be shy about looking down our noses as those who choose avoidance. If Christianity were to be judged solely on this text, it would have to be considered one of the biggest failures in history. Fortunately, it is grace, and not our inability to live up to this sermon’s demands, that has the last word.
In the end, Luke’s Sermon on the Plain must be seen in terms of the cross. Jesus lives his sermon in his death and resurrection. Each of the beatitudes is fully realized in the paschal mystery. The commands voiced in verses 27 -31 are kept to perfection in the crucifixion. We who have been signed with the cross at baptism are challenged not so much to obey the demands of this sermon but to live into them by grace. The cross shapes our lives in such a way that we join the ranks of the blessed, not by our own doing but through the power of him who is the Blessed One.

Actual Homily for Reformation Sunday

Reformation Sunday
October 31, 2010
John 8, 31-36

St. Stephen Lutheran Church
Tallahassee, FL

The prophet Jeremiah, as we have just heard in the first lesson, would have us know that God is at work in our hearts, imprinting on them both the divine image and the divine will, transforming us more and more, as St. Paul would later say, into the image of Christ. It’s this divine work in us that we call grace.
And yet, for all God’s grace at work in us, we still find ourselves missing the mark, disfiguring the divine image imprinted in our hearts. We fail to live and love as Christ in the world. This is the painful reality we call sin.
Then comes a moment when grace wins out, when we recognize our weakness and turn again to God. When this happens to individuals, we call it conversion. When it happens to the whole church, we call it reformation. And neither, my brothers and sisters, is a onetime event.
In the 16th Century, the University of Wittenburg was probably an important center of learning within what would eventually become Germany, but it was no Oxford or Sorbonne. It is unlikely that any of us would have ever heard of it had it not been for young Augustinian friar, Martin Luther. Luther’s struggle, both academic and spiritual, with the mystery of grace and sin brought about in him a gradual conversion. In Luther’s case, his personal conversion experience eventually lead to reformation and the Church was changed forever.
To suggest, however, that the reformation of the Church was completed 500 years ago is to seriously miss the point. In celebrating Reformation Sunday today, October 31, 2010, we stand together as individuals in need of conversion and as a church still very much in need of reform.
Conversion and/or reformation come about as a result of an encounter with, as we just heard in today’s Gospel, the truth that sets us free. And so, we must ask with Pilate: “What is truth?”
There’s a church on a street that I often use when driving to St. Stephen from my home. The thing I’ve found most notable about this church for the last year or so is its never changing marquee sign which announces that this particular congregation is: “Proclaiming the truth, verse by verse”. The underlying claim made by this statement is that the truth consists of words on paper in a book we call “the book” – the bible. The Gospel of John teaches us something quite different.
In the beginning was the Word. John wants his readers to know from the outset that words on a page have been replaced by a living Word who has become human in the person of Jesus Christ. Our Gospel passage for today takes that logic a step further by identifying the “truth” with the person of Jesus – the Son of God. The “truth” will set you free. The “Son” sets you free. They are one and the same. Later in the Gospel, Jesus says of himself: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

Finally, when Pilate asks Jesus “what is truth”, Jesus remains silent. He answers, not with words but with actions. He answers with his dying and rising. The truth, then, can ultimately be found in Jesus Christ, dead and risen. To equate Holy Scripture with “the Truth” is to mistake the map for the destination. That, my brothers and sisters is idolatry.
The truth will set you free. Our encounters with Jesus Christ lead us to conversion and reformation. Authentic conversion and reformation lead to freedom.
Conversion is what we are about when we face the font and acknowledge our sinfulness every Sunday. The truth of our sin convicts us even while the truth of grace and forgiveness empowers us to turn around. We actually turn and follow the cross as a sign of our interior turning. While never complete in our lifetimes, this series of conversions has a cumulative effect and we are transformed, as St. Paul also said, from one level of glory to the next.
But what about reformation? That’s a much harder one to pull off. Like conversion, it is ultimately God’s doing. That’s the first and most important thing to remember.

As I said before, Wittenburg was hardly the European center of intellectual and spiritual ferment. Luther himself, while in many ways quite brilliant, was a very flawed vessel. Yet, despite his very human flaws, he was the vessel God chose to jump start the desperately needed reform of the Church.
Most of us share neither Luther’s gifts nor his flaws but God does, in fact call us to be reformers as well. We do not need to be a certain age, on the church council, ordained, have advanced theological degrees or be eloquent speakers. We need only, like St Paul once again, to know Christ Jesus, and him crucified. We need only find ourselves in the position of having to say with Luther, here I stand I can do no other. Apparently, and perhaps even thankfully, God only calls forth a Martin Luther once in a great while. The reformations I am talking about are generally on a much smaller scale then the one that began on October 31, 493 years ago. They are, however, no less important.
I can’t even pretend to know what God has in store for St. Stephen Lutheran Church, the Florida/Bahamas Synod, the ELCA or the church universal. The only thing I can say for certain is that reform is always necessary. Our congregation, our synod, our churchwide bodies and the church catholic are all in need of occasional course corrections – many small but others much larger. In the future we, as Lutherans within the ELCA, will continue to be challenged by the meaning of full inclusion, the choices we make with regard to finances and other resources, and our relationships with other Christian and non-Christian people of faith as well as the larger secular culture. And these are just the tip of the iceberg. I will make a plug here for the vicar program and say that our being a place where a future pastor’s faith and gifts are nurtured is a way in which we as individuals and as a community have an effect on the church far beyond what we might be able to imagine.
The truth who is Jesus Christ stands before us to reveal all in our ecclesial institutions that is not of him. We, through the process of our own individual and collective conversions are equipped to stand before our institutions and the people who lead them and call them to account when such is required. As Luther would no doubt confirm, such stances are not always easy nor immediately effective, but grace always win the day. It is not an idea or even an ideal that gives us the courage to act. It is only the Spirit of Jesus Christ who makes such things possible. The truth will set us free.
As a former Roman Catholic, who still very much loves the church of his birth, I have long had an uneasy relationship with Reformation Sunday. I have sometimes felt like the child of divorced parents hearing one speak poorly of the other. For that reason I am particularly pleased to have been asked by Pastor Marda to preach today. When I joined St. Stephen, I made a commitment to myself that I would become a Lutheran not only in word but in deed. That’s a process that still continues. Today, I am able to celebrate with all of you the good news that we have each been called, in our own way, to join Luther as reformers of the Church insofar as we are also open to the ongoing need for personal conversion. Both accomplished in faith by grace. And to know that I can bring my Roman Catholic theological training to the task of ongoing reformation through a homily like this, would no doubt make Luther smile.

Here I stand with you, I can do no other. Here we stand, we can do no other.
Praised be Jesus Christ, both now and forever. Amen.

22nd Sunday After Pentecost - Year C (Luke 18:9-14)

Most of us manage to avoid the arrogance of the Pharisee in the parable but, at the same time the tax collectors lament seems exaggerated.  Rarely do our personal sins reach the level of breast beating.  We generally do not sin boldly.  It is interesting, though, that the sinner in the parable is a tax collector and not a thief, rogue or adulterer.  The tax collector’s sin is political because he has aligned himself with the powers of oppression.  We too, often without recognizing it, are aligned with powers that oppress and enslave.  People we elect, purchases we make, and deeds we leave undone implicate us  in the oppression of people all over the world.  Like the tax collector, we allow ourselves to be co-opted by the powerful.  Where it not for the saving power of Jesus Christ, we too would be unable to look up to heaven without fear.  Thank God for our justification in Christ.  May we have the humility to recognize and change our sinful ways.

21st Sunday After Pentecost - Year C (Luke 18: 1-8)

While “The Need to Pray Always” is the title of this parable given to us by the evangelist, the parable itself seems only incidentally about prayer. I would suggest that justice is the real issue.

The world is full of people seeking justice and, all too often, injustice seems to win the day. The widows, orphans and strangers whose rights were championed by the prophets serve as a kind of shorthand for all who are without access to power. These are people who lack both the resources and connections necessary to “make it” in society. The promise of this parable is not that just any prayers will be answered but specifically that the demand for justice will be heard.

In our own time, faith seems tied to a need for comfort and security. Prayer is often all about the individual and his or her small circle of family and friends. Feeling good is more important than being good. Prosperity is more important than justice. Indeed, will the Son of Man find any faith on the earth?

20th Sunday After Pentecost – Year C (Luke 17:11-19)

The story of the ten lepers is usually seen as the classic example of the need for gratitude. That commonplace understanding is no doubt true, but it tends to leave out the other side of the equation. The story of the ten lepers is also about what God does in and through Jesus Christ. First, God does not runaway from the unclean. Both the Law and common sense would have excused Jesus if he had ignored the lepers. Secondly, God’s grace is not limited to insiders. Some might rightly have expected that only nine of the ten lepers would have been healed. The Samaritan was considered to be outside of God’s covenant relationship with Israel. Finally, faith and the grace which follows upon it are at work for good in unexpected people and events, bringing healing to individuals and the world. For this we must all, indeed, be grateful.
On a different note, I think that it is interesting to point out that the Samaritan did not recognize the authority of the priests and that the priests would most certainly have rejected him. There was no point in his going to the Jerusalem temple priests, so instead, he returns to Jesus. There is no need for any external authority to legitimate the inclusion and healing Jesus accomplishes as he ushers in the reign of God.

19 Sunday After Pentecost - Year C (Luke 17: 5-10)

In recent years there has been a growing chorus of voices suggesting that we might have over done the whole self esteem thing with kids now coming to adulthood. Should anyone be looking for an antidote to excessive self esteem, this Gospel passage is definitely for you. Our faith is miniscule and we are, at best, worthless slaves. I think, though, that there might be another way of looking at this that does not require beating ourselves up.


The first thing I would suggest is that we have no need to plant mulberry trees in the sea or move mountains (referencing the better remembered version of this teaching) for that matter. That is God’s work. Secondly, since faith is itself God’s gift to us, we cannot be held responsible for how little we have. Does that mean that to ask, as the apostles did, for an increase in faith is wrong? Of course it isn’t.

Love God with your whole heart, soul and mind and love your neighbor as yourself. If we are doing what we are ordered to do then there is nothing further necessary. In fact, however, we are not even capable of doing this with any consistency. Once again we are dependent on God to make up the difference.
The Christian’s self-esteem is a recognition of God’s grace at work in an individual and is not rooted in our own achievements. God has loved us first. That is the good news and all the esteem we need.

18th Sunday after Pentecost - Year C (Luke 16:19-31)

If, as many claim, America is a Christian nation, a non-Christian might legitimately ask why anyone in America goes hungry. After all, Christians have as the teacher of this harsh parable one who has indeed risen from the dead. Alas, Jesus knows the answer all too well. The law, the prophets and even Jesus, raised from the dead, are apparently all insufficient motivators when it comes to our treatment of the poor. In addition, the persistent twin beliefs in American culture that the poor deserve their lot and that wealth is a sign of God’s favor have meant that the wealthiest country in the history of the world still has pockets of deep poverty and that millions of Americans go to bed hungry each night. An all of this is to say nothing of the world’s poor and hungry.




What’s to be done? On the level of individual praxis, it is really very simple. Give! That simple answer is actually true on the national and international levels as well. There is enough food to go around. It is simply a matter of will. While it is relatively easy to change individual behavior, changing the structure of the thrones, powers and dominions that refuse to will the feeding of the hungry is a much harder change to make.

17th Sunday after Pentecost - Year C (Luke 16: 1-13)

Beyond the often discussed dichotomy between God and wealth set up in this passage, on closer reading there seems to be an even more radical message that Jesus wants to present. The text seems to imply that all material wealth is tainted with dishonesty. There is no such thing as clean money.


There have been a number of stories in the news lately about so-called blood diamonds. These are diamonds mined in a strife torn region, usually in Africa, and then sold. The proceeds of the sale go on to financially support violence inflicted on the innocent by insurgents, invaders, war lords, etc. Thanks to a movie and recent celebrity testimony at a war crimes tribunal, most socially conscious jewel merchants and members of the buying public are aware of the issue and can make more informed decisions about what they buy and sell. But even if you can be fairly sure that the jewels are not blood diamonds, what do you know about the wages and working conditions of the miners?

Every cent, no matter how freshly minted the actual coin, comes with a history. No matter how honest your own business practices, no dollar comes your way that has not been touched by dishonesty. The Gospel, at least in this instance, does not suggest that Christians should not use money. The point is to remember that money is a tool and an imperfect one at best.

16th Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 15:1-10)

This reflection is being posted earlier than usual. At the suggestion of one of my readers I am using this opportunity to get a week ahead. That allows preachers who are ahead of the game, and there are some, to get a look at my thoughts in a timely fashion.
We have often heard it said that God’s ways are not our ways and, generally speaking, we are glad of that. There are times though, when God’s ways seem blatantly unfair. This parable is an example. In particular I am talking about those of us who count ourselves among the ninety-nine sheep who are left feeling at best underappreciated and, at worst, abandoned. Which one of you, Jesus asks, would not leave the ninety-nine sheep to go off in search of the one who got lost. Well no one in their right mind. Two in the hand is worth one in the bush. Why endanger the whole herd to go out looking for that one sheep that obviously has nothing worthwhile to contribute to the herd’s gene pool?
In my reflections for the 15th Sunday after Pentecost, I suggested that Jesus does not have much use for rugged individualism. This Sunday’s parable reminds us of the other side of that coin. Jesus does care about individuals. The shepherd risks the ninety-nine to save the one and though the text is not explicit about this, it implies that the woman spends her other nine coins on a party to celebrate the one that was lost. The extravagance of both the shepherd and the woman seem to us, at least, to be misplaced and ultimately, unfair. It is only when we recognize ourselves as the one sheep or coin that we can come to understand the incredible depth of God’s love and mercy poured out for each of us in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

15th Sunday After Pentecost - Year C (Luke 14:25-33)

I have often been among those who loudly assert that there is no such thing as individual salvation or a personal savior. The church, for better or worse, is the ark and we are all on board together whether we like it or not. At first it might appear that Jesus directly contradicts that assertion by putting forward the image of disciple as rugged individual. The disciple stands alone with no ties to family or goods, absolutely free to live, or die, as his or her call demands.


But then again, perhaps this teaching directs the disciple not to rugged individuality but to a new kind of community. Each Christian emerges from the waters of baptism alone and, symbolically if not in reality, naked. The old order of relationships based on clan and tribe has been overthrown making a new network of relationships possible. The old economy of scarcity has been transformed, freeing the disciple from the tyranny of possessions. Blood and gold no longer determine belonging or status. All are welcome in this new ecclesia. Finally, after baptism, the disciple lives on the other side of death, no longer dominated by fear or the clutching after mere survival.

None of this is to suggest that the demands of discipleship are not difficult. The cross remains. The blessing is that we do not carry our crosses alone.

Fourteenth Sunday After Pentecost – Year C (Luke 14:1, 7-14)

Even though linked together by a common setting and theme, I think it is important to examine verses 7-11 and 12-14 independently. And so I begin with 7-11. While it might be amusing to see Jesus here as a first century Miss Manners, to do so would really miss the point. On the surface, It is true that the subject of Jesus’ parable does seem to be behavior and the appropriate humility befitting his disciples. What we discover however is that the banquet is a metaphor for our life before God and that the story is not so much about behavior as it is attitude. It is the host (God) who makes the seating chart and sets the place cards, not the guests. To do otherwise is to make presumptions about God’s relationships with others and ourselves that we are in no position to make. It is no accident that most Christian worship begins with an acknowledgement of sin and complete dependence on God’s mercy poured out in Jesus Christ.
The parable does suggest a hierarchy that makes many of us uncomfortable. It appears that while there will be no “haves and have nots” at God’s table there are some who are closer and others who are farther away. Verse 11, though, does seem to imply an eventual leveling out. Perhaps the hierarchal arrangement demanded by first century dining practices (and not uncommon in the twenty-first) needs to be replaced by the image of round table. And where does the host sit in such an arrangement? We must never forget that the host at this meal is also our true food and drink.
Verses 12 -14 have a slightly different focus. In this teaching, Jesus warns his hearers that the “haves” must not exclude the “have nots”. The Church is not a social club for the successful and the Eucharist is not a reward for meritorious service or good behavior. This teaching is about an inclusive evangelism that invites everyone to the table. It is a teaching that seeks to overturn our human tendency to assume scarcity rather than celebrate abundance. Being able to give without thought of getting is the ultimate test of faith in God’s providential care.

Finally, at the risk of indicting me and most of my readers, why in this nation of churches would it ever be possible to find on Sunday morning any one on the street, anyone hungry, anyone lonely, and anyone without a share of this nation’s bounty? Where are the literalists who demand that we take the scriptures at face value? Where are the liberals who insist that the Good News is for the poor and distressed?

Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost – Year C (Luke 13:10-17)

For Martin Luther, the primary point of the third commandment for Christians is that there must be time set aside for the proclamation of the Gospel. In fact, he has little sympathy for the idea that people need a day of rest. As far as Luther is concerned, if a person is not in church on Sunday, they might as well be at work. The Gospel is preached by word and sacrament within the Christian assembly, the church. If you have not participated in that proclamation then you have failed to observe the commandment no matter what else you might have done or not done that day.
By his teaching and example, Jesus takes a similar (but perhaps less rigorous?) approach. For Jesus, the Sabbath provides an opening through which the Kingdom can insert itself into human history. Jesus uses the Sabbath as an opportunity to proclaim the good news of God’s reign to a woman who had been crippled for eighteen years by “setting her free” from her ailment. The Sabbath is not an end in itself and, turning again to Luther, the Law becomes Gospel.
I think that both Jesus and Luther teach us that we keep the Sabbath by providing a space in our busy lives where God has a chance to act. The Sabbath then, is not a burden but a source of freedom. Through our observance of the Sabbath we are set free from our addiction to control. We are set free from the subtle idolatries that make gods of our work, projects or goods. In that space, the good news of our salvation in Christ has a chance to be heard and believed.

Mea Culpa

I apologize for having accidently skipped a week by publishing the commentary for this week's Gospel as if it were for last week.

12th Sunday after Pentecost Year C (Luke 12:49-56)

Given the so-called culture wars, it is always bears repeating that Jesus was never the “family values” kind of fellow folks not familiar with the Gospels might believe him to be based on the propaganda. Both when confronted by issues in his own family or by larger questions of familial relationships, Jesus appears, in fact, to have small regard for the “traditional family”. For Jesus the only commitments that are ultimately important are his commitment to his Father and his disciples’ commitment to him. All other relationships, arrangements, and commitments, familial or otherwise, are subservient to these.


The cross is ultimately good news for the world but before it can be recognized as such it first has to be experienced by both Jesus and his disciples as bad news. Before it can be the instrument of peace and reconciliation it must be the instrument of torture and death that it most assuredly is. The cross is no easy fix, no divine Band-Aid for a wounded world. The cross is no less an option for the disciple as it was for Jesus.

Our families, traditional or otherwise, are important. I think Martin Luther’s attitude toward family is instructive. The same Luther who saw family as one of God’s greatest gifts was also able to say (sing) in his most famous hymn, A Mighty Fortress is Our God, that spouse and children might need to be “let go” for the sake of the Gospel. Luther is only able to say this because of his belief that God’s truth abides and that God’s reign is forever.

10th Sunday After Pentecost – Year C (Luke 12: 13-21)

I don’t think that this parable is really about wealth vs. poverty (although Luke/Acts as a whole certainly exhibits what Pope Paul VI called a “preferential option for the poor”.) The text is not even really about hoarding or even financial planning for that matter.



Notice that upon his death, the wealthy man is called a fool by God. In the Hebrew Scriptures, a fool is not a person without intelligence but someone who consistently fails to understand. At the end of this parable, Jesus implies that wisdom (the opposite of foolishness) is to be found in being “rich toward God”.


So what then does being “rich toward God” actually mean? One might see the parable as a suggestion that individuals should be concerned about collecting good works rather than possessions. No one is against the doing of good deeds, especially as they relate to assisting the poor, but I don’t believe that to be Jesus’ point. On the contrary, the parable seems to be a lesson about the futility of storing up anything, even good deeds. Being “rich toward God” then is the opposite of possessing. It is the recognition of our complete and utter dependency on God for not only life and sustenance, but for the ability to do or achieve anything good. The Psalmist says that the fear of the Lord is the first stage of wisdom. Fear of the Lord is the acknowledgment that God is God and that I am not, the acknowledgment of complete dependence.


All that having been said, there are financial implications to the parable. The wisdom of dependence allows for a freedom to be generous. If all is gift then no individual has final claim on anything. The gift of manna in the dessert was for the needs of the day and not a commodity to be stored or traded. In last week’s Gospel Jesus instructed the disciples to pray for their “daily” bread, no a life-time supply. We have earned nothing, not our possessions nor our salvation.

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 11:1-13)

I know that this Gospel passage is most often read and preached as a message of hope. Upon serious reflection, however, it can be hard to take. Most of us have had the experience of asking and not receiving, searching and not finding, knocking and not having the door opened. There are three traditional pious responses to that situation. The first is that God has responded to our prayer, only in ways that we are not faithful enough, smart enough, and/or good enough to understand. The second is that, because we are not faithful, smart, or good enough, we have failed to ask for the correct thing, knock on the correct door or search for what is truly good for us. Finally, there is the notion that we have simply not been persistent enough. Unfortunately, none of those answers is particularly helpful to the person experiencing God’s apparent deafness.


Writers and preachers do their fellow Christians a disservice when they present this particular teaching and others like it, as a simple formula for answered prayer. The grieving parents who just lost a child to cancer should not have to contend with hearing that God knows better. The backsliding addict isn’t helped to hear that he or she has just not prayed hard enough. The lonely old person tired of living but afraid to die, finds no solace in the suggestion that their prayer for companionship is somehow misguided.

This is in no way to suggest that God does not, in fact, know better or that we pray hard enough or that our requests are not sometimes misguided. We are weak and sinful people. This is all the more reason, though, why the entire burden can’t be placed on the person asking, knocking or seeking. There are things for which God must give an account! Having been given this teaching by Jesus, we have a right.

Easy answers fill pews. When push comes to shove, however, and the easy answers fail to satisfy, the church has an obligation to be the place where it is O.K. to wrestle with God. Perhaps that is the ultimate meaning of this teaching. Asking, knocking, searching, pestering – these are not passive verbs. We must actively enter into the struggle and mystery of God’s provident love.

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 10:38-42)

     In the past, the story of Martha and Mary was often seen in Roman Catholic exegesis as a biblical rationale for the contemplative life. That approach to the text largely disappeared after Vatican II because of its failure to do justice to the story. I have not travelled in Lutheran circles long enough to have heard very many polemical sermons about faith vs. works but could see how someone might want to take this story in that direction. That line of reasoning also, I think, fails to get to the heart of the story.

     It might well be that someone reading this could just as validly dismiss my approach, but I think it has some value and that analysis of this pericope as well as the whole of Luke/Acts lends some support to what I am thinking. It seems abundantly clear to me as I read and pray over this text that it is, at least in part, about the role of women in the Church. Education, religious or otherwise, was for men. For a woman to sit as a disciple (a learner or student) at the feet of a teacher was a radical move. Jesus not only allows it, he defends and encourages it.
     As I have written before in this blog, the Magnificat is Luke’s manifesto. The hymn’s concern for women, the poor and other outsiders is echoed throughout Luke/Acts. In this particular Lucan text, Jesus makes it clear that discipleship is open to all, regardless of gender. Jesus does not disdain Martha’s more traditional approach to a woman’s role as hostess, but he clearly indicates that all such societally defined roles, for men and for women, are now subject to the demands of God’s reign and that discipleship takes precedence. Discipleship is not an exclusive club, but rather a call to follow Jesus that is issued to everyone.

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 10: 25-37)

Most contemporary preaching on the Parable of the Good Samaritan focuses on the need for a more expansive definition of neighbor. Depending on the context, we have been challenged to include people of color, GLBT folks, people with HIV/AIDs, or some other ostracized group de jour in our understanding of who the neighbor is. I suspect in the current political climate, illegal immigrants will feature prominently in this Sunday’s homilies. This is not a bad thing. As a member of one of these groups, I have directly benefited from the fact that many more Christians now consider me a neighbor to be loved than did twenty years ago. Still, I can’t help but think that even with this ever expanding view of neighbor we are still doing what Luke tells us the lawyer was doing, seeking to justify ourselves.

Now that most of us have got the neighbor thing down, what really needs expanding is not our definition of who we need to love but our understanding of what it means to love. I find myself struggling with the following questions. Perhaps you do to.

1. I am happy to help feed the hungry, but do I have to eat with them?

2. I contribute money to the local homeless shelter, but what about that extra bedroom in my house?

3. I want to give money to the person who is obviously down on their luck, but don’t want to enable the alcoholic or drug addict. What do I do?

4. What does so called “tough love” have to do with God’s love?

5. How can we love our country’s enemies and still maintain security?

Like the lawyer in the story, I want Jesus to answer my questions in such a way that I feel justified. Unfortunately, there is no evidence in the parable (or anywhere else in the Gospels, for that matter) that Jesus is going to opt for the easy answers that soothe my conscience and allow me to sleep at night.

All most of us can do is recognize the fact that we cannot, in fact, justify ourselves. Our love is too small. Our efforts are too halfhearted. We are utterly dependent on God’s mercy even as we pray for the grace of expanded hearts.

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 10:1-11, 16-20)

It seems simple enough. Begin with a prayer that others will join you in your ministry. Work in teams. Don’t get bogged down by stuff. You need to be free to move around. Offer God’s blessing. Offer God’s healing. Preach the Kingdom. Accept the material assistance that you need, but demand nothing more. Don’t bully anyone and don’t go where you aren’t welcome. Do not succumb to the belief that any of this is your doing. This is how, little by little, town by town, evil will be conquered and the Kingdom of God will be established. It seems that Jesus’ little seminary formation program laid out in Luke 10 ought to be easy enough to follow and yet failures abound.
Every day the news is filled with reports about the abuse of power and authority. Christian ministers have never been immune to this temptation. Money, fame, power, even on a small scale, work their woe among church leaders. And without wanting to suggest a great left wing conspiracy against religion in the media, there is certainly some gloating going on when religious leaders, particularly those on the right, are caught doing something wrong. As for most Christians, we feel some anger but mostly sadness when those religious leaders in whom we have put our trust, disappoint us. We are all too aware of the power of sin in the lives of our ministers and leaders and yet, except for the most cynical among us, we expect something better. For better or worse, we hold them to a higher standard.
Suppose though, that Jesus’ teaching on ministry isn’t just for ordained or professional ministers. What if what Jesus is talking about is really about discipleship and is addressed to all the baptized? Perhaps that higher standard to which we hold religious professionals was really a standard by which we should measure ourselves. I believe that in Jesus’ address to the seventy we find a key to living the Christian life that is available to everyone and which has the potential to change not only individual lives, but the whole world. Pray, work together, live simply, preach the Kingdom in word and deed and recognize that all you do and achieve is ultimately God’s grace at work in and through you.

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 9:51-62)

In saying that Jesus had set his face to go to Jerusalem, the evangelist isn’t talking about just any trip to the holy city. Jesus has set his face on the cross. Many saints and theologians have suggested that the Gospels should be read through the lens of the cross. How much more so, then, these few passages on evangelism and discipleship which have been placed by the Gospel writer within the context of this journey?
At the risk of skating on some very thin ice, I would like to suggest some parallels between verses in this Gospel lesson and verses in Luke’s passion narrative. First there is Jesus’ unwillingness to deal harshly with the Samaritans who reject him. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”

Then there is Jesus’ response, first concerning the lack of a place for him to lay his head, and, secondly, his reference to the burial of the dead. “Then he (Joseph of Arimathea) took it (the body of Jesus) down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.” And finally there are Jesus’ words to the would-be disciple who wants to say goodbye to his family. ” Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.”
The purpose of this little exercise is neither to be clever nor play fast and loose with the text. It is, rather, to make an important point. The way of Christian discipleship and evangelization is the way of the cross. The disciple/evangelist must expect rejection, poverty, alienation from family and friends, and, yes, perhaps even death. And in spite of this, he or she must embrace the call with determination and faithfulness. This is indeed a far cry from the so-called “prosperity gospel”.

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost – Year C (Luke 8:26-39)

So what it is that these folks were so afraid of? You might think that having someone around who could cure demonic possession would be thought of as a good think. But for the Gerasenes, not so much.
Tallahassee, like most cities in the U. S., has its share of homeless folks. Many of these people are possessed by the “demons” of mental illness and addiction. If someone could come along and “cure” this problem, wouldn’t we all be happy about that? I would have thought the answer would be an automatic “yes” but, after paying closer attention to the Gerasenes in this reading, I am not so sure anymore.
The real “demon” in the country of the Gerasenes was a fear of change. If Jesus could, in fact, heal people like this demoniac, then the world as they understood it was being turned on its side. If Jesus were to stick around town, what other changes might he make? More importantly, what demands would these changes make on the Gerasenes understandings of themselves as individuals and as a community? What demands would these changes make on their understanding of God?
Every Sunday, we (us) gather and, among other things, pray for the poor, the homeless, the mentally ill and all in any need (them). What if God were to suddenly answer our prayer in some dramatic way and a profound and permanent change was to happen in the lives of all the “them” we pray for? If they were to become healthy, self-sufficient, contributing members of a society, is it possible that we might lose our sense of privilege and blessedness? “There but for the grace of God go I” we say to ourselves as we hand over the spare change in our pockets. “God has really blessed me” we say as we deposit our pay check in the bank. Though we intend them as expressions of gratitude, they assume that the addict is not graced and that the panhandler is not blessed. Who are we to make such an assumption, particularly in the light of the Beatitudes?

Having people like the Gerasene demoniac around keeps us comfortable in our own sense of blessedness and, dare I say it, sense of entitlement. There might even be a secret little pleasure we feel in the guilt we experience when we think we have not done enough for the “them”. Most importantly, we cherish the safety we feel in the assurance that while our lives are not perfect, we’re better off than a lot of people. Maybe those Gerasene folks were right and it is better if Jesus stays away after all.
There is security for the “us” in having a “them”. This security is made manifest in our stubborn insistence that we are in charge of our life and that our health and prosperity are the result of something that we have done or, even better, something we deserve. We are also free to ignore the demons that haunt our lives. The Geresene demoniac was utterly dependent on the mercy of God given to him through Jesus. He had no resources of his own. He was, as the evangelist tells us, naked.
The truth is, we all stand naked before God in utter dependence. We desperately need Jesus to stand in our midst and tell us the truth about ourselves. It is only when we have known at the core of our being how much God has done for us in Jesus Christ that we can become the evangelists that we are called to be in baptism. We can join this healed man in proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus has done for us.

3rd Sunday after Pentecost - Year C (Luke 7:36 - 8:3)

This Gospel story is one of the most “sensual” passages in the New Testament. As such, it is an important reminder of the embodied nature of our Christian faith. It is all too easy and, for many, even desirable, to spiritualize this story. The physical contact between the woman and Jesus can be as scandalous for the modern preacher as it was for Jesus’ host in the story. This woman’s relationship with Jesus involves not only soul and spirit but the body as well.


This embodiment is at the heart of our experience of sacraments. The intimate physical acts of bathing and eating become the primary ways in which the Church encounters the Christ. And yet, as this story so powerfully reminds us, it is not these acts themselves that save us. It is faith in Jesus Christ which provides the context for the Church’s sacramental life and it is this same faith that brings us salvation.

There is so much more to say about this pericope. I am particularly interested in the feminist reading of text. That, unfortunately, will have to wait till another day due to a relentless work travel schedule this week.

2nd Sunday after Pentecost - Year C (Luke 7: 11-17)

In the Gospel of Luke, women and the poor play a prominent role. In this particular passage, it is interesting to note that Jesus raises the man from the dead because of his compassion, not for the man himself, but for the man’s mother. A woman without a man (father, husband, son) was in that culture a nobody, a non-person. By restoring the woman’s son to her, he rescued her from poverty and oblivion. Here lies what is, for me, the bigger issue. Jesus solves the immediate problem but does not seem to do anything about the larger social structures that created the problem to begin with.


It seems to me that one could argue that the Magnificat, Mary’s song of praise at the beginning of Luke, should be the filter through which the entire Gospel is read. Through this filter, one sees the signs and wonders of Jesus less as isolated acts and more as signs of a future that is already breaking in on the world. The “lifting up of the lowly” and the “bringing down of the powerful” is a radical overthrow of the societal norms that left women like the widow in this story, without a voice and, frequently, destitute. The incarnation was the beginning of a new world order and the ministry of Jesus gave substance to the promise. God has indeed looked favorably on us, but the work of justice, the expansion of God’s reign on earth, is far from complete. To the extent possible, and always under the power of grace, Christians have a responsibility to cooperate in the continued building of this new world “according to the promise made to our ancestors, to Abraham, Sarah, and their descendants forever.”

Trinity Sunday - Year C (John 16:12-15)

To be guided by the Spirit into the truth is to be guided, not into a set of propositions, but into the person of Jesus Christ (who called himself the truth), and through Jesus, into the very life of God. Trinitarian faith, then, is not so much an intellectual project as it is a spiritual or dare I say mystical experience. To say this is in no way intended as a slam against the academic study of the Trinity. In fact, I very much enjoyed my seminary Trinity course. It is just that understanding spirations and processions only gets you so far.

I frequently pass a church when driving across town that had the following message on its sign for quite some time: “Teaching the truth, verse by verse.” In this view every verse of the Bible must be seen as an intellectual proposition of equal value to all others. Such a notion, unintentionally no doubt, attempts to limit not only scripture, but the triune God as well. Our arrival at a full understanding of the truth about God and ourselves is, as today’s Gospel makes clear, a process. The Spirit “will guide you into all truth”. It is not instantaneous. It is not a onetime event. It is a relationship.

It is sometimes difficult not to chuckle at the intricate diagrams traditionally used in catechisms and theological textbooks to describe the Trinity. This is especially true when compared to the eastern Christian tradition as exemplified in Rublev’s famous icon of the Trinity (see image below). Instead of a problem to be solved, the Trinity is a mystery into which the Christian is invited to enter. The three “persons” of the Trinity are posed in such a way as to summon the viewer into the divine relationship.

Vacation

While one might expect a lovely restful vacation in Vermont to result in even more profound thoughts on the Gospel of Pentecost Sunday, it just did not happen.  I hope to have something to share in a few days for Trinity Sunday.

Pax,
Austin

7th Sunday of Easter - Year C (John 17: 20-26)

Here we go with the pronouns again!
A few thoughts on Christian unity:
1. Unity is God’s work. I find it interesting that in the Gospel of John, Jesus commands his followers to love another but he does not command unity. The unity so ardently desired by Jesus is obviously not something human beings can accomplish apart from grace.
2. The model for this unity is theological and not political. Rooted in the Trinity, Christian unity is about shared mission and the bonds of mutual charity. I recall a diagram explaining the Trinity that emphasized that the Father is NOT the Son or the Spirit and so on. Christian unity has nothing to do with uniformity.
3. To further emphasize a point partially made in #2, the unity that Jesus prays for is totally mission focused. It is not a self-serving warm fuzzy togetherness. It is not an end in itself. Its purpose is that the world might believe.
4. Keeping # 3 in mind, I do believe, however, that there is a mystical component to this God given unity. The concrete experience of God bringing believers together for the sake of mission is a participation in the very life of God.

Ascension - Year C (Luke 21: 44-53)

The shear physicality of our redemption in Christ, his death on the cross and his bodily resurrection, has at times been a source of embarrassment for Christians. When talking about the Ascension, the return of Jesus, including his body, to the right hand of the Father, the embarrassment becomes even more pronounced. This is because, it would stand to reason, if Jesus’ body is ascended then it is up there, or out there, or over there, but definitely somewhere. If our technology was just sophisticated enough then we should be able to find him, right? An odd thought at best, even a little embarrassing.

Throughout its history the Church has struggled with those within and without who would prefer a more “spiritual” religion. Orthodox Christianity, rooted in Judaism and not Greek philosophy, has tenaciously refused to give up its radical connection to the human body and the physical “stuff” of creation. Despite evidence to the contrary over the past two millennia, the Church has always clung to its affirmation of the basic goodness of creation and of the embodied human person. Earth does not stand between the soul and heaven. Earth is the very stuff of which heaven is made. The idea of disembodied souls sitting on clouds playing harps has no basis in Christian theology.
I am neither a theologian nor a physicist. I cannot speak with any certainty as to “where” the physical body of Jesus now resides. And, if you will excuse the pun, that is ultimately neither here nor there. What does matter is that human beings, including our bodies, are important to God and that this earth of ours has an eternal destiny. Given the number of bodies brutalized by poverty, abuse and war, the Ascension reminds us that Christianity’s response to these issues is not a promised disembodied future but remedies in the here and now. Justice and peace must begin now! With the gulf oil spill only the latest in a long line of injuries inflicted on the earth, the Ascension reminds us that this lovely planet is not ultimately destined for the garbage heap or the incinerator. God’s covenant love extends to animals, plants, land, sea and air.

6th Sunday of Easter - Year C (John 14:23-29 or John 5:1-9)

John 14:23-29


This Johannine text, like so many that we hear during the great Fifty Days, is full of goings and comings and makes extensive use of pronouns. The “Farewell Discourse” makes me grateful for my extensive training in sentence diagramming at the feet of the good sisters who taught me in elementary school. It sometimes takes a diagram to keep everything that is happening in these passages in order.

There are several points worth noting in this particular text and anyone of them could be a point of departure for preaching. The first point can be found at the very beginning in verse 23. “Those who love me will keep my word . . .” At first glance, this seems like it might be an endorsement of biblical fundamentalism. That is until we remember the Prologue of John’s Gospel. The word is, in fact, the Word of God who has taken flesh in Jesus. The keeping of the word is about entering into a dynamic and mutual relationship with Jesus, not about keeping the word as law.

How this relationship is possible is the subject of the second point. In the text, Jesus says “I am going away, and I am coming to you.” Post resurrection/ascension, Jesus is no longer present to his disciples in the way he has been. When Jesus departs, the Holy Spirit is received. Through the presence of this Spirit in the Church and in individuals, we are able to enter into relationship with the risen Christ.

Finally, a word about that peace which Christ gives and which is somehow different from the peace which the “world” gives. I am reminded of the description of the motto of a fictional Benedictine monastery in the novel In This House of Brede by Rumer Godden. One of the traditional symbols of Benedictine monasticism is the Latin word for peace, Pax, surrounded by a crown of thorns. “The motto was ‘Pax,’ but the word was set in a circle of thorns. Pax: peace, but what a strange peace, made of unremitting toil and effort, seldom with a seen result; subject to constant interruptions, unexpected demands, short sleep at nights, little comfort, sometimes scant food; beset with disappointments and usually misunderstood; yet peace all the same, undeviating filled with joy and gratitude and love.” This is no doubt an accurate description of the experience of the community to which this particular version of the Good News was originally addressed.

-or-
John 5:1-9

God said “let there be light” and there was light. Jesus said “take your mat and walk” and the man took up his mat and walked. The all powerful creative Word of God which called creation into being is still at work in that creation. God’s gracious will for our wholeness is not limited by the Law. This healing happened, as the evangelist reports, on the Sabbath. Nor is this gracious will for our wholeness limited by our own enfeebled will. The man, after all, did not answer Jesus in the affirmative when asked if he wanted to be healed. He only spoke about his own inadequacies and the inadequacies of those who should have helped him. Jesus heals him anyway. Our creator, after all, knows us better than we know ourselves.

None of us is exempt from self pity. Advanced age, chronic illness, unhappy relationships, economic hardships – all these things take their toll on us and we seldom respond as bravely as we might hope. It would be all too easy to use this Gospel passage as a club to beat up on those who are already weak, poor and sick by accusing them of a lack of gumption. This story, thank God, is not about human weakness. It is about God’s power made manifest in Jesus, God’s power at work in our lives in ways beyond our understanding or even our willing. Our creator God is no distant clock maker who built us, wound us up, and let us go off on our own. No, our creator God has become incarnate in Jesus and has entered totally into our human experience. Jesus knows our weaknesses of mind and body and is able to see through and even beyond our occasional lapses into self pity. God is at work for our good even when we do not actively seek Him. God is gift, not reward. This is the meaning of grace.