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.
Monday, November 29, 2010
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!
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!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 1, 2010
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)