Message Archive

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10,  Psalm 48, 2 Corinthians 12:2-10, Mark 6:1-13

“Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”  [2Corinthians 12:10]

The Apostle Paul speaks these words of encouragement as he inspires us to confront barriers to our faith journey as opportunities to draw more deeply into our understanding of our dependence upon God.  Barriers are another one of those paradoxical elements of our faith.  For far too many of God’s people, perceived barriers lead to a life of regret and resentment due to unmet dreams – a life of perpetual blaming of the “something” that left us unable to achieve.  We allow barriers to stand in our way to such an extent that we choose to allow that barrier to thwart our journey.  The Apostle Paul sees these barriers as the agents of Satan, strategically tearing away at our faith by constant whispering of our inadequacies into our psyches.

Yet, as Paul learns himself and teaches us, barriers are to be seen more positively; barriers are to be seen as those difficulties through which we are challenged to seek God’s guidance in overcoming, and find ourselves to be better people as the result of the struggles necessary to find our way over or under or around, or, even best of all, through the barrier – the figurative birth canal that induces a healthier newborn by virtue of successful struggle.

In our epistle lesson we read of the Apostle Paul’s labeling of an undefined barrier as a “thorn in his side.”  Was it a physical impediment, or perhaps an emotional or moral weakness?  No one knows.  And, since the “thorn” is not defined, we can all assume that that thorn applies equally to all of us as well; we all have “thorns in our sides” – physical or emotional or spiritual barriers that confound our faith journeys.

We all have barriers in our faith journey.  Paul’s words in his second letter to the people of Corinth alert us to the reality that this thorn is a messenger from Satan whose purpose is to be a barrier to the Christian mission.  But, as it was for Paul, our all-powerful, all-loving God takes these messengers of Satan and converts them to Godly purposes for the good of the Kingdom.  Paul sees the thorn in his side as a paradoxical blessing that keeps him aware of his humility – his dependence on God alone.

Sometimes barriers are God’s way of redirecting our journey to a path where God has a better plan.  We like to say that when God closes a door he opens a window.  In our walk through the earthly ministry of Jesus Christ, we learn this morning that one of the greatest barriers to his mission was the dismissal of his significance by his hometown folk. They were barred by their misconceptions and expectations for the hometown boy; they were unable to experience the healing power of the love Jesus preached.  Jesus would instruct his followers to take the Good News message of healing elsewhere to those willing and open to receive it.

In a rather similar way, David’s potential to be king was written off by his family.  Remember the prophet Samuel, directed by God to visit the house of Jesse where he was to find the intended king, but instead, grew frustrated as the handsome and competent sons of Jesse were passed over one-by-one.  David, the youngest, the keeper of the sheep, had not even been invited to this audition.  In our continued journey through the saga of David – King David – by far the most prominent King of Israel, we learn that in spite of his earthly unworthiness and his well-noted pitfalls, David is known for his faith in the Lord, to whom he returned again and again seeking forgiveness and restoration following his serious blunders.

In today’s lesson, David is guided in overcoming the barriers of separatism and establishing the Jewish people in their homeland of Jerusalem – no more to be a conglomeration of nomadic tribes, but a people grounded in community, humble in the presence of God.  With God’s help, David had risen far above the inhibiting earthly expectations of the lowly and youngest keeper of the sheep.

Our misguided earthly perceptions can create serious barriers to our faith journey.  Our misguided earthly perceptions can be exploited by Satan and converted to his messengers.  Yet it is the coming awareness of those barriers – those thorns in our sides that keep us humble in our continued awareness of God’s power to convert those painful thorny barriers for his purpose of good.

My friend Eric Motley, PhD. came into the world with many perceived barriers.  Born to an unwed African American teenage mother in rural 1970’s Alabama, abandoned by his birth mother and left in the care of his modest middle-aged adopted grandparents, we could perceive that there were plenty messengers of Satan whispering hopelessness into Eric’s life.  Forever humble, Eric learned to accept and return the nurturing of the tight-knit community that surrounded him – a community in the truest sense – a community made up of direct descendants of the newly freed slaves who had founded his beloved hometown of Madison Park in the 1880’s – a distinctive community, destined to look beyond perceived barriers.

In this environment where integrity, hard work, and responsibility were the expectations and love of God, family, and neighbor were inherent, Eric came to see barriers as mere hurdles that encouraged him to jump ever higher.  Inspired by an ever-growing troop of mentors from the time he was labeled a slow reader in first grade, Eric went on to attain degrees from Samford University and the University of St. Andrew’s, Scotland, followed by a prestigious appointment as special assistant to President George W. Bush, and currently the position of executive vice president of the Aspen Institute, a non-profit DC think tank for values-based international leadership.^[1]

For years, I knew Eric only as a humble and diligent crucifer and fellow chalice bearer with whom I shared worship and Holy Communion.  Never once did I hear him say, “Oh, that reminds me of a conversation I was having in the Oval Office last week…”

God has taken the perceived barriers of Eric’s birth and upbringing and converted them into an outpouring of hopefulness and celebration with clear emphasis on the positive impact of loving and dedicated grace-filled community.  Eric faced barriers; King David faced barriers; the Apostle Paul faced barriers; Jesus Christ faced the greatest of barriers, but God steps through the barriers and converts them to his GOOD.

Jesus says, “My grace is sufficient for you.”  The Apostle Paul admonishes us to be glad in the face of our hardships and persecutions and calamities, for it is in our humility in the face of these barriers that we most readily find our strength in Jesus Christ our Lord.

^[1]Eric Motley, Madison Park – A Place of Hope (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 2017).

2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27, Psalm 130, 2 Corinthians 8:7-15, Mark 5:21-43

Our Gospel lesson this morning provokes more questions than it brings answers.  Unless, we read the accounts of Jesus’ healing with the assumption that they do not apply to us – that they are just for our Bible entertainment like stories from a science fiction novel, we might be a little overwhelmed with the complexity of the characters and the interwoven overlapping stories and meanings. These accounts of healing do apply to us, and we can put ourselves into the place of every character in the intermeshed story.  Still, we have lots of questions – questions that help us better understand our responsibilities as the Church.  Questions are good things when they draw us deeper introspection into our relationship with Jesus Christ and with our neighbor.

Whenever we read of Jesus’ healing, we consider questions: What is it to be healed?  How is it that we are healed?  Why is it that some are healed and others not?

In this morning’s Gospel lesson, we read of Jairus, an official among the synagogue leadership – a member of the group known for being skeptical, perhaps even the most threatened, by Jesus’ actions and nuanced interpretation of Jewish traditions.  Yet, Jairus, this Jewish leader is falling at Jesus’ feet, begging repeatedly for Jesus’ help, expressing his trust that if Jesus will but lay his hands upon his daughter, she will be made well and live.  In so doing, Jairus is risking his reputation among the Jewish leadership – casting away all that is earthly in order to surrender himself in God’s presence.  And, he is asking on behalf of his child – a female child – traditionally considered of very little value in the culture of these times. Here we observe the unconditional love of a father for his child.  Jairus is desperate for the healing power of the love of God the Father through Jesus Christ.

Thus, the group sets off to the home of Jairus on their mission of healing.  But, they are interrupted unexpectedly and quite strangely in such a way that only Jesus is aware; only Jesus can sense the healing power flowing from hisbody into that of someone near.  Jesus wants to know who that person is.  In ultimate humility, a woman from the pressing crowd cowers as she moves toward Jesus to confess that it was she who touched him. Already knowing within herself that she was healed of the disease that had plagued her for twelve long years, her trust in Jesus’ healing power is confirmed; Jesus said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

In direct contrast to the power and prestige of Jairus is the powerlessness of this woman suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. Here is a woman who had spent all the resources she had seeking medical treatment for her condition.  Driven into poverty, female, and rendered ritually unclean by her condition, she was an outcast of outcasts.  But, this unnamed outcast is so fueled by her trust in Jesus and her desperate need for healing that she pushes her way through the crowd, determined to get near enough to Jesus to touch his clothes – trusting that in merely touching the hem of Jesus’ garment, she would be healed. Like Jairus, she throws away all concern for earthly conventions and the scorn of those around her to surrender herself in God’s presence.

And, patiently turning from the urgency of his mission to the home of Jairus, Jesus takes time to affirm her faith; “Daughter, your faith has made you well, go in peace.”  [NRSV Mark 5:34]  The delay would cost Jairus’ daughter her life; her loved ones must surely have been incensed that this unclean woman had delayed Jesus at such a critical time.  And, yet, Jesus remains non-anxious and Jairus remains faithful through the traumatic ordeal. Healing would come to all who remained faithful.

We know that our healing is seldom so simple. Jesus’ message is that we be bold in our trust, that we continue to trust in the face of disappointments and setbacks and unmet self-established expectations, that we persevere to be faithful through the difficult times, that we understand that fear and death do not have the last word.  God remains present in our times of despair just as he has promised.  And, God’s healing is irrespective of the boundaries of human status and superficial expectations.  Healing is not on earthly time frames; it is not always so tangible as in our Gospel accounts.

When we beg for healing for ourselves or loved ones, we think in terms of dramatic physical healing.  Sometimes that comes.  But, the physical healing, as we define it, is seldom specifically the case.  First and foremost, rather than physically, our healing comes only when, in peace, we accept our physical frailty and our continued awareness of God’s presence.  As Jesus said to the raging sea in the midst of the storm, “Peace, be still!” he says the same to us.

We are healed when we are at peace with our physical mortality and when we abide in continued awareness of God’s presence.  God promises spiritual healing to those who trust; the physical healing of our mortal bodies is less easily determined. Our peace is in trusting that one day we will understand the full healing power of God’s love – God who wants only what is best for us.  God sent his son in the blessed assurance of everlasting life in him – everlasting life where death is not to be feared.

Why does it seem that Jesus heals some and not others? Healing is on God’s terms and time, and by God’s definition; it is beyond our comprehension.  It is the healing of our souls that must come first.  For that, we trust God to fulfill his promise that death does not have the last word.

“Do not fear, “Jesus says to Jairus and to us, “only believe.” 

1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49, Psalm 9:9-20, 2 Corinthians 6:1-13, Mark 4:35-41

“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Perhaps in hearing these words of Jesus’ frantic disciples your thoughts go to the children of our world – perhaps the children seeking immigration on our southern border – children all over the world who surely must want to scream at us in the faith community.  “Do you not care that we are perishing?” 

Syria is an area so very significant in the history of Christianity, even specifically significant to our parish as we remember our founders who were of Syrian Orthodox origin; in Syria, children are perishing: Over 900 children were killed in 2017, and 361 were injured as the Syrian Regime and Russia besieged Syrian villages.  In response to the message of the Assad regime: “Submit or die” nearly 1,000 children were forced into combat service last year, many never having known life without conflict and food scarcity.  Humanitarian efforts to bring health care and education are repeatedly denied. Understandably, families are desperate for asylum outside the Syrian border.

Tomorrow, I look forward to sharing a meal with the bishop of the Diocese of Attooch in Southern Sudan, another country ravaged since civil war began there in 2013.  In these five years of war, 19,000 children have been recruited or kidnapped by armed groups and forced into military or domestic service.  Last February, World Vision was successful in orchestrating the release of 87 girls and 224 boys, assisting them in the critical and difficult transition back into a life that includes some degree of education, family, and psychological counseling – basics of well-being for children that we take for granted.

Accurate statistics from the horrendous, seemingly insurmountable immigration crisis on our southern border are quite impossible to attain. Needless to say, there are thousands of families – adults and children requiring processing.  None of us wants any child to be mistreated; assuring the safety of these children from the critical and real possibility of exploitation by the adults that accompany them is a hugely complicating issue, as is attending the thousands of children traveling alone.  Surely, from young children separated from parents, we hear the cry, “Do you not care that we are perishing?”

“Do you not care that our children are perishing?”  In the past 45 years, well over 60 million have been aborted in the United States.  Fortunately, those numbers are declining yearly; in 2014, there were 926,190 reported abortions, down from 1 million+ in previous years. 

Do we care?  The safety and provision of children is our common ground, requiring us to put away our angry discourse and vicious politics for their sake.  Assuring the wellbeing of the world’s children is a massive priority much like David standing before Goliath.  But, David was confident of God’s providence; the mighty Philistine was no match for God’s providence.

In last week’s Gospel lesson, Jesus shared two parables to illustrate God’s providence.  Both parables describe the process of taking the seed from safe storage and planting it in the soil where the sprouting of the seed is held in God’s hands, enveloped in the mystery of his grace.  It is not up to us to sprout the seed.  We invest our part – we can water the seeds and work to keep out the weeds, but the real mystery of its growth and increase is entrusted to God.   

The important message is in God’s providence – God’s all-powerful means of providing for his creation – and in our need to surrender to God our obsession to be in control.  

Trust in God’s providence then is the basis of our lesson from last week and it carries through for today.  Today’s lesson from Mark follows immediately after Jesus’ teaching in which he uses parables, in this case, the parables of the Kingdom. Jesus has just been teaching the disciples to trust in God’s providence, but they fail the pop quiz that follows. As night approaches, they leave the place where Jesus is teaching, getting into their boat with plans to cross the Sea of Galilee.  

The Sea of Galilee is known for its unpredictable, frequently violent, and quickly changing weather conditions.  As darkness descends upon the crew and Jesus is sleeping in the stern, a violent windstorm arises that sends this boatload of seasoned fishermen into a fear struck frenzy.  “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”  Jesus rises, rebukes the wind, just as his disciples had seen him rebuke the evil spirits, and says to the sea with utter calm, “Peace, be still.”  As tranquility overtakes the chaos, Jesus speaks to his disciples, “Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?”

God does not promise that there will be no storms; Jesus does not promise to calm all our storms immediately or serendipitously, as he seems to have calmed this storm on Lake Galilee.  But, Jesus promises to remain with us through all the storms.

How often have we caressed a frightened child with the assurance that there is no need to be afraid?  To say that there is nothing of which to be afraid would not be true, but to say that there is no need to be afraid because we are there to bring protection and comfort is true.  We are asking that child to trust that we are there for his best interest – to protect against evil forces just as Jesus is with us to protect us when evil forces threaten.  Jesus never says there are no evil forces to be feared.

But, what happens when we attempt to operate our boat through the passages of our lives separated from our trust in God.  If we neglect our relationship with God, it is easy for us to feel that he is “asleep in the stern” like Jesus was for the disciples in our lesson this morning.  It is our responsibility to see that Jesus Christ remains awake in us.  

The storms of poverty and violence and war continue to rage, threatening the children of our world.  As for David standing before Goliath, the problems seem insurmountable. It is more important than ever to keep our faith awake in us.  Calmly, with lowered voices and open and unified hearts, working earnestly and in the best interest of our children, we must assure them that we hear their cries – that we are there, with God’s help, to provide protection and comfort in a world where Jesus Christ is forever awake in all God’s creation.

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13  Psalm 20  2 Corinthians 5:6-10,[11-13],14-17  Mark 4:26-34

The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.

We have followed the prophet Samuel since early childhood when he was serving in the temple under the guidance of Eli; we read of his being called by God to lead the people of Israel as judge and prophetic seer. Just last week we learned that the people of Israel demanded an earthly king – so they could “be like of other nations.”  Thus, under Samuel’s guidance, Saul was anointed the first earthly king over Israel.  

Fast forwarding to Chapter 15 of 1Samuel, we learn that Saul’s kingship did not go well; our lesson tells us ‘the Lord was sorry that he had made Saul king of Israel;’ and Samuel was much aggrieved.  But, God tells Samuel to get over it and move on. Samuel is directed to fill his horn with oil and go to the home of Jesse in Bethlehem where God would show Samuel the one who is to be anointed king of Israel.  

Samuel, with some trepidation, journeys to Bethlehem where he is entertained by a parade of seven handsome, impressive sons of Jesse – none, to the surprise and consternation of Samuel and other witnesses, being the one God has ordained.  

“Are all your sons here?”  Samuel asks in frustration.

“There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.”  

David was summoned, and at last Samuel heard the words of the Lord for which he had been waiting, “’Rise and anoint him; for this is the one’… and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward.”  David was to become the most celebrated earthly king of Israel.  Until this day, Jerusalem is the City of David and the Star of David remains the symbol of the Jewish people, just as the Cross is the symbol of the Christian faith.  “Yet the youngest,” the bottom of the pecking order, the keeper of the sheep, David would be the king God had ordained.

Samuel, the great seer, could not see with his earthly eyes all that the Lord had planned, but he persevered in trust that God would provide.  Our earthly eyes and minds and hearts cannot see as God sees.  As for Samuel, we are called to set aside our arrogant earthly assumptions that too often cloud our vision of God’s plan; we are called to wait patiently and quietly for God’s kingdom to be revealed.

In our Gospel lesson, Jesus uses agrarian references to help those gathered in his audience visualize the reality of God’s providence and the need to trust that providence, as did Samuel.  In the agrarian society of the first century, Jesus’ listeners could relate easily to the process of planting seed and working the soil. They knew well the engineering necessary for the selection of healthy seeds and the best location for their planting: How deeply should they plant the seed?  Would there be adequate sun and access to water?  Was there rocky soil that required digging out the rocks?  How would they best keep out the weeds?  How would they protect against predators or flocks of sheep grazing nearby?  And, what about the family cow who might enjoy a tasty treat from the new sprouts?  There was much to consider as planting began. 

Yet, after all that effort invested in thought and labor, their human efforts would not ultimately determine their yield.  In the end, the seed would be entrusted to God to give the increase.  It is not man’s engineering that makes that seed sprout and grow; that increase is nurtured within the mystery of God’s kingdom.  

A tiny seed is very insignificant in appearance.  We scatter the seed; we sleep and rise; the seed sprouts and grows.  Even the smallest of seed bears the great mystery that allows it to grow into an enormous shrub that provides shelter and comfort for God’s creation – a tiny seed encompassing a great mystery.

The tiniest, most apparently insignificant seed that becomes the haven of sustenance for God’s creatures; the youngest, most apparently insignificant keeper of the sheep who becomes the most exalted earthly king of God’s chosen people; all is the result of trusting the great mystery that lies in the depth of God’s kingdom.

Daily, we observe this great mystery; we see this reality of the seed sprouting and growing all around us – even the weeds that, irritatingly, seem to be the most prolific serve to keep us humble.  We are well aware that we don’t make this happen; God makes this happen.  

And yet, that trust – that same trust that inspires us to plant the seed with faith and confidence that God will supply its increase – that same trust is so very difficult to accomplish in our day to day living. How difficult it is to relinquish trustfully our need to control; how difficult it is to plant ourselves in the fertile soil of God’s kingdom and wait quietly and patiently for God to lead us to delight in his will and walk in his ways.  Why do we choose to hold on to so much fear and anxiety?  Our all-loving, all-powerful God has promised our provision and protection, asking only that we trust him.

Our earthly fathers, whom we celebrate today, have a lot to do with our understanding of our heavenly Father’s abiding trustworthiness.  We look to the ideal of the human family for this glimpse of the kingdom.  It is my prayer that your earthly father is or was one from whom you were best able to learn to trust.  Fathers, after all, (and, in actuality, all parental figures) have this enormously important responsibility to model the abiding trustworthiness and unconditional love of our heavenly Father.  As children, our earliest understanding of trust is defined by our earthly fathers.  As adults, we too easily forget the critical impact we have on shaping a child’s image of God – shaping a child’s understanding of trust in a greater power.

The 19^thcentury monk, Brother Charles of Jesus offers us a prayer for daily nurturance of our trust in God’s Kingdom.  It is entitled the Prayer of Abandonment. 

Father,

I abandon myself 

Into your hands;

Do with me what you will.

Whatever you may do

I thank you;

I am ready for all,

I accept all.

Let only Your will

Be done in me

And in all Your creatures,

I wish no more than this,

O Lord.

Into Your hands

I commend my soul;

I offer it to You

With all the love of my heart,

For I love you Lord,

And so need to give myself

Into Your hands,

Without reserve,

And with boundless confidence,

For You are my Father.

Amen

1 Samuel 8:4-11, (12-15), 16-20, (11:14-15) Psalm 138  2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1 Mark 3:20-35

Jesus said, “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

After our great festive celebrations of the last several weeks – Ascension and Pentecost and Trinity Sunday, this morning’s lessons seem to bring us down off that pedestal to the reality of the day-to day-world. In our first lesson the great prophet Samuel is grumpy with the Israelites for demanding a king; in Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, we are told that “our outer nature is wasting away;” and in our lesson from Mark’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of unpardonable sin and seems to rebuff, quite irritably, his own family.

Last week we read of the calling of Samuel, and we learn from today’s lesson that Samuel would be the last of the great judges of Israel. Israel until this time, had be ruled and guided by judges who, like Samuel, were called and directed by God.

Looking more closely at our Old Testament lesson from Samuel, we find the Israelites, after centuries of leadership by judges and prophets, demanding a king so that they could “be like other nations.”  Samuel had tried unsuccessfully to remind and persuade the elders of Israel that God was their King, that their obedience to God left no need for an earthly king.  But Samuel had grown old, and his sons had betrayed their calling to follow in their father’s footsteps as judges over Israel, and they had perverted justice.

We read that Samuel prays to the Lord and is assured that this demand by the elders of Israel is not an indication that the people have rejected Samuel and his sons as judge over Israel, but that the people of Israel have rejected God as being King over them.  In verse 8-9, we read God’s words to Samuel, “Just as they have done to me, from the day I brought them up out of Egypt to this day, forsaking me and serving other gods, so also they are doing to you.  Now, listen to their voice.”

But, God adds an important caveat – “Only, you shall solemnly warn them, and show them the ways of the king who shall reign over them.” In the verses that follow, Samuel lists the many duties and taxes that a worldly ruler would extract from them. But, the people of Israel are not willing to listen to Samuel’s warnings about the price they would pay for an earthly king’s rule.  As our lesson concludes in verses 19 and 20, we hear the plea of the Israelites, “We are determined to have a king over us,” whom, they say, “will go out before us and fight our battles,” and we can “be like other nations.”  [1Samuel 19-20 NRSV]  The Israelites would have an earthly king to rule their lands and their hearts.  God’s chosen people would then be like other nations.  Why, then, would they need God?

In our Gospel lesson from Mark, Jesus is speaking of this same state of mind that had possessed the Israelites of Old Testament times.  It is a state of mind that desires the replacing of that that is of the Holy Spirit with that that is earthly and perceived as separate from God.  In blunt terms, it is seeing evil as goodness and goodness as evil.  The scribes in our account this morning tried to label Jesus’ actions of casting out demons as an action of evil while reason assures us that evil cannot, in fact would not, desire to cast out evil.

In our account of the Israelites, it is not so much that an earthly king for their people was an evil thing, but that this earthly king represented their rejection of God as their true and only king.  In a similar way, the scribes in this confrontation with Jesus cannot distinguish goodness from evil.  Their willingness to understand is clouded by their earthly agenda to uphold their power over the religious traditions as theydetermine the traditions need to be upheld.

This state of mind is closed to the action of God’s spirit – a state of mind in which we sacrifice good for evil – when our earthly desires circumvent the action of the Holy Sprit.  This closed mindedness, Jesus says in our lesson from Mark, is the unpardonable and eternal sin.  When we, as humans, choose to partake in this ongoing sin  – when we habitually reject God in favor of earthly desires and obsessions, this ongoing sin becomes an unpardonable and eternal rejection of God.  And, God, though never ceasing to love us, respects our will to reject him.

This struggle between the evil and the good is the dilemma that, at worst, is the basis of our rejection of God and, at best, causes our continuous wholehearted search for guidance.

In his book, The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes that we should not be surprised at the difficulty of faith if we are “consciously resisting or disobeying the commandment of Jesus.”

Specifically, Bonhoeffer asks, “Is there some part of your life which you are refusing to surrender at his behest, some sinful passion, maybe, or some animosity, some hope, perhaps your ambition or your reason?  If so, you must not be surprised that you have not received the Holy Spirit, that prayer is difficult, or that your request for faith remains unanswered.”^[1]

There is more clarity in the final section of our Gospel lesson, in which Jesus seemingly harshly dismisses the members of his biological family.

Jesus’ message is that our earthly biological bond with our family members is no comparison to the strength of those relationships and connections that are established in the Holy Spirit where Jesus Christ is Lord of all.  His message is that we are to use the kingship of Christ as the bond of our relationships – a bond that is far more powerful than any earthly biological bond.

How are we to react to this message?  As we are faced daily with heart-wrenching statistics of drug addiction and abuse, suicide, and violence inflicted upon our precious and vulnerable children, it is the responsibility of the religious community to reach out with the message that God is our King and we are his people. When we stop misplacing the blame? When will we take the responsibility to implant the true image of God in our children – that they might grow up protected from this sense of emptiness and meaninglessness that is the manifestation of a life void of authority that is all-powerful, all merciful, all-loving. Fame, fortune, power, prestige, wealth are not our kings.  God in Jesus Christ is the King of creation.  Whoever does his will is a child of God, gathered into the eternal kingdom where there is only one true God.

^[1]Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship(New York: Simon & Schuster, 1959)66.

1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20)  Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17 2 Corinthians 4:5-12 Mark 2:23-3:6

In Christian Ethics there is a value known as “the greater good.”  The greater good is a choice that perhaps defies convention or legalisms in the interest of compassion or hospitality – some human quality that, in a particular situation, takes precedence over the “rules.”

We seek the greater good when we tell a terminally ill friend that she looks beautiful, when she is actually obviously very near death.  We seek the greater good when we tell an elderly parent whose sense of time has been lost to dementia that a loved one should be returning “today or tomorrow” when, in actuality, we have no idea when or if the loved one will be returning; our hopeful words bring freedom from anxiety for one for whom all time is temporary. We seek the greater good when we open the food pantry doors before hours so that patrons can come in from the blistering heat or bitter cold.

Along the western border of Germany, the fast flowing Rhine River provides a significant fortress into interior Germany.  The Rhine River was a particularly important barrier in the waning months of World War II as allied troops were descending upon Germany.  The allies were aware that Hitler had ordered all bridges across the Rhine River to be destroyed in an effort to keep the approaching enemy at bay.

As fate would have it, however, as the US Army approached the town of Remagen, Germany, they were astounded to find the bridge across the Rhine intact.  The battle to take control of the Remagen bridge was bloody and lengthy, but in the end supplied the allies with a momentous passageway toward the defeat of German forces.

Why was the bridge not destroyed per orders of the high command?

Commanders at the site apparently chose the greater good. Masses of civilians were using the bridge to evacuate toward to the West, knowing that their homes and villages were sure to be leveled and civilian casualties enormous.  And, German troops were surrendering and retreating from the West in the face of slaughter; the bridge at Remagen was their only possible path to safety.  Yet, Hitler had demanded the bridge be destroyed.

Accepting the inevitable defeat of their forces, Four German troop commanders at Remagen chose to defy Hitler’s orders, delaying the destruction of the bridge out of compassion for their fellow countrymen and their comrades in arms.  Their delay allowed the US Army to penetrate Germany at this Rhine crossing; it likely brought about a significantly quicker German surrender and end to the war; and also perhaps, it saved the lives of numerous German civilians and soldiers.  And for their decision to keep the bridge intact, three of the commanders at Remagen were executed by firing squad; one was taken prisoner by the American Army and survived to share his story.

Day after day, we make decisions for the greater good, mostly without realizing it.  We make decisions in the better interest of hospitality and compassion.  Isn’t it better to make others welcome than to insist on legalisms that alienate and bring greater harm?

From our Old Testament lesson from First Samuel, we read of the calling of Samuel as God’s prophet.  We’ll follow Samuel for the next several weeks and talk about him in more detail.  Just for today, it’s important to note, that God called Samuel because it was Samuel that God needed.  Jewish tradition called for the sons of Eli to continue the priestly line of authority.  But, God dramatically and unquestionably called Samuel in defiance of Jewish legalisms.  Even Eli could not deny that God intended Samuel to replace Eli’s corrupted progeny.  God spoke for the greater good.

And, Jesus is speaking for the greater good in our Gospel lesson this morning.  The Pharisees, the keepers of the law, were standing on legalistic principles when they insisted that Jesus was violating Sabbath laws by allowing his disciples to gather and eat the wheat from the field on the Sabbath and by healing the withered hand of the man at Sabbath worship in the synagogue. But, Jesus’ concern was for his hungry disciples and the crippled worshipper; Jesus demonstrates the choice of the greater good.  And, I cannot imagine that any of us would bypass someone ill or injured and in need of our help on the principle that we are commanded to rest on the Sabbath.

And, yet, we do defy the Christian ethic of the “Greater Good,” often for our own self-seeking reasons – as we allow legalisms or our need for control to thwart the values of hospitality and compassion. Certainly, seeking the Greater Good is not a call to lawlessness; it is a call to allow love to prevail – weighing the greater good against the greater harm.  Paraphrasing Jesus’ words from this morning’s Gospel lesson, we could say, “God’s law was made for humankind, and not humankind for God’s law; Jesus is lord even of God’s law.”  Jesus is lord of hospitality and compassion; Jesus is lord of love; Jesus is lord of the Greater Good.

Isaiah 6:1-8 Romans 8:12-17 John 3:1-17 Canticle 13

I speak in the name of the one God:  God the Father, the giver of love; God the Son, who is the Beloved; and God the Holy Spirit, who IS the love given and received, united in relationship.  God, the Holy Trinity – the Lover, the Beloved, and the Love between them.

Blessed Trinity Sunday – our third major feast day this month.  Trinity Sunday is celebrated on the Sunday following the Day of Pentecost – the 50^thday of Easter, which we celebrated last week as we focused on the discernable presence of the Holy Spirit descending to rest upon the apostles on the first Christian Pentecost.  Now, our triangle representing the Holy Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – is figuratively complete.  So, we set aside this extra Sunday to celebrate that completion and unity.

It is important to note that the Doctrine of the Trinity is not specifically Biblical.  In fact, the Doctrine of the Trinity was first defined in the early centuries of the Church – a means of conceptualizing the Biblical references to God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  The doctrine, thus, is not conceptualized in the Bible, though it is implied in the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ baptism, for instance, at which the accompanying voice of the Father and the attendance of the spirit descending like a dove alert us to the presence of the 3 persons of the Trinity.  And, whenever we worship, we affirm in our creeds that the three-in-one is reality that has been present since before the beginning.

St. Augustine of Hippo is credited with the illustration of the Trinity as Father – the Lover, Son – the Beloved, and Spirit – the Love that is exchanged between the Lover and the Beloved.  And, Gregory of Nyssa contributed the imagery of the rainbow – light from light in which the distinction between the colors is non-discernable – each color blending gently into the next, just as the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit blend one into the other in the eternal unconditional love of God.

Love has certainly been the focus since our now-internationally famous Presiding Bishop has been called upon to share his message of love again and again following his sermon at St. George’s Chapel – Windsor.  On this Memorial Day weekend, we honor the self-sacrificing love and protection of hundreds of thousands of veterans living and deceased, remembering especially those who gave their ultimate sacrifice of body and mind.

Love is a quite overused word, much cheapened by its wide spectrum of usage.  We love chocolate.  We love the dress.  We love the ocean. We love the weather – sometimes.  I love the smell of lavender.  And, you know the Allstate commercial about the dad who’s driving along bragging about getting the safe driving bonus check because he doesn’t use his cell phone while he drives?  As he chatters on about his selfish use of the bonus check, he is unheard and ignored by his wife and children who are hooked up to their electronics.  I just lovethat commercial.

It amazes me that the English language is such an enormous melting pot of the world’s languages and yet we have no real adequate distinction between the word we use to describe our trivial amusements compared to the same word that encompasses our deepest affections.  Lost in the triviality, we too rarely reflect on the complexity of love – love, which is the essence of creation, the essence of God, the essence of the three-in-one, which we celebrate today.

Lover, Beloved, and Love.

Under the cover of night, to the frightened and confused Nicodemus, Jesus uttered the words that we hear so often, we subconsciously trivialize their meaning:  “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”  Scottish professor, the Rev. Thomas F. Torrance seeks to explain the magnitude of this love in his bookThe Mediation of Christ in which he takes the love of God in Christ even further.

Jesus Christ died for you precisely because you are sinful and utterly unworthy of him, and has thereby already made you his own before and apart from your ever believing in him.  He has bound you to himself by his love in a way that he will never let you go, for even if you refuse him and damn yourself in hell his love will never cease.

This is love beyond triviality; this is love manifested in the three persons of the Holy Trinity.

In a sermon by Joel Miller of the Columbus Mennonite Church, we read: “Experiencing the Trinity is a call to participate in the Divine life.  God becoming flesh, the Lover giving to the Beloved and the Beloved returning the love, the way that Jesus has set before us.  God seeking to be known as God through us.”

“The Lover giving to the Beloved and the Beloved returning the love.”  In the last days of his earthly ministry, Jesus, the beloved Son, affirmed in his prayers to his loving Father that he had lost none of those entrusted to him.  With the Son’s ascension to be with the Father, he promised us that the Holy Spirit would descend to carry on that relationship of love – God being known through us for all eternity. We are never lost to God; we are never lost to any who truly love us.

Professor Torrance explains further:

One God.  Lover, Beloved, Love – Father, Son, Holy Spirit:
God loves you so utterly and completely that he has given himself for you in Jesus Christ his beloved Son, and has thereby pledged his very being as God for your salvation.  In Jesus Christ God has actualised his unconditional love for you in your human nature in such a once for all way, that he cannot go back upon it without undoing the Incarnation and the Cross and thereby denying himself.

Nothing has meaning without love.  “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”  God has pledged his very being as God for your salvation.  “Even if you refuse him and damn yourself in hell his love will never cease.”

Trinity Sunday

Memorial Day Sunday

Acts 2:1-21 Romans 8:22-27 John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15 Psalm 104:25-35, 37

We often hear Pentecost described as the “Birthday of the Church.”  That is a fitting analogy.  Pentecost is a weighty time – the day that we celebrate the beginning of our responsibility to stand as individuals and in unity with other Christians to carry out the mission of Christ through the guidance of the Holy Spirit. On this specific day we reflect on the weight of our responsibility as the Church – the body of Christ – the weight of the responsibility that Jesus places upon us on this day.  

It was, in fact, at Pentecost that the followers of Christ became true apostles – no longer disciples (students learning from Jesus, their teacher and instructor in the way), but apostles – messengers of the word, charged with the responsibility of taking the message of redemption that they had learned from Jesus to a world in need of his salvation.

Most significant to us today is that, before ascending into heaven, as we read in Chapter One of The Acts, Jesus instructs his followers to wait in Jerusalem for the “promise of the Father.”  As he explains, “for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.” 

That day has come.  Here we are gathered for the festival of Pentecost, one of the seven principal feasts of the Church.  It is for the Jews, as it was for these first-century Jewish Christians, the day of the celebration of the coming of the Law brought down by Moses from God on Mount Sinai, celebrated 50 days after Passover. Here we join the disciples, alone and confused, perhaps in the same upper room where they had shared the Last Supper with Christ.  “And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting…and all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit” [Acts 2:2&4 NRSV] 

For the people of Israel, the wind represents an important paradox: from the East, it brings blistering sandstorms off the desert; from the west it brings the cool Mediterranean breezes and much needed rain.  The wind and its paradox is something with which we along the coast can relate. 

But, this wind is something far beyond the refreshing breezes of spring that we enjoy here on the Bay; it is far beyond the natural force of the wind that carries our sailboat; it is even far beyond the gust of a hurricane that topples a century old oak tree.  This is the force of the power of God; this is the force of the Holy Spirit, the coming of which we celebrate today – the day of Pentecost.  

The word for wind in the original Hebrew and Greek is not satisfactorily translated into English.  The Biblical phrase means wind, breath, and spirit all rolled into one action of God.  Wind – breath – spirit – all one.  

The Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity, the Cinderella of the Trinity who, it seems, comes later to the ball, but in reality has been with us since the time of Creation through the wind and breath of God.  We read in Genesis 1:2, “the wind swept over the face of the waters” and Genesis 2:7, “God breathed into (Adam’s) nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being.”  We hear of the breath in the beautiful “peace” passage in our Easter Gospel lesson from John 20: “’Peace be with you.’” […] When (Jesus) had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “’Receive the Holy Spirit.’”  

So, this wind that swept the cosmos into creation and breathed life into Adam is the same wind and breath from which the disciples received the Holy Spirit.  They would no longer be able to see, hear, or touch Jesus but they would feel his presence through the Holy Spirit as we feel His presence with us in the same way.^[3]

The Holy Spirit comes to us, and makes possible our sharing God the Father and God the Son – the Spirit that is both the wind of creation and the breath of our baptism.  This is the Spirit of which Paul speaks in his letter to the Romans, the Spirit that intercedes for us in our frail prayers, the Spirit that “intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words.”

Now, through the spirit, our relationship with God is a personal relationship and a personal responsibility.  The divided tongues were not meaningless babble, but tongues of inspired speech in the languages understood by the multiplicity of nationalities gathered there, hungry for understanding.  Thus, the coming of the Holy Spirit is the “birthday” of the mission of the church.  It is on this day, specifically, that we accept the personal apostolic responsibility to get to know Jesus Christ and to make Him known to all the world.   It is the day that all of us here gathered commit to all who are to come that the Holy Spirit is present here and now in the Church of the Advent.

The nineteenth century preacher and teacher Richard Church expressed the gift of the Holy Spirit as the “greatest gift ever made to man […] the greatest change that was ever made in what man is in himself, in what he can himself become.”   […] filling [us] with new energies fresh from the very heart of God, begetting [us] anew from the deadness of sin, giving [us], by a new birth through the Spirit, the power to become the sons [and daughters] of God.”^[4]

Now, in celebration of our baptism by the water and the Holy Spirit, let us stand and renew our Baptismal Covenant, being baptized anew by the breath of God.

^[1]Alister E. McGrath, Christian Theology, 4th (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007) 235-236.

^[2]Richard William Church in Love’s Redeeming Work – The Anglican Quest for Holiness, selected by Geoffrey Rowell, Kenneth Stevenson and Rowan Williams (New Yord: Oxford University Press, 2001) 440-441.

^[3]Alister E. McGrath, Christian Theology, 4th (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007) 235-236.

^[4]Richard William Church in Love’s Redeeming Work – The Anglican Quest for Holiness, selected by Geoffrey Rowell, Kenneth Stevenson and Rowan Williams (New Yord: Oxford University Press, 2001) 440-441. 

Acts 1:15-17, 21-26, 1 John 5:9-13, John 17:6-19, Psalm 1

Come, Holy Spirit, come; be with us in the speaking; be with us in the listening; be with us in the in between.  Amen

Several of our families are away this weekend as they attend graduation festivities for children and grandchildren.  Across the country, graduates are receiving their diplomas and then moving into that suspenseful space between the known world of the classroom and the nervousness of whatever comes next.  For many, it will be a time for celebration and relaxation intermingled with apprehension and a long to do list.  For most, it will be a time of serious discernment for life-changing decisions – perhaps seeking God’s guidance and rolling the dice.

On this seventh Sunday of Easter, we find ourselves being held in the transitional space between The Ascension of our Lord, which we celebrated this past Thursday, and Pentecost, which we will celebrate next week.  The Bible tells us that after the Resurrection, Jesus remained with his disciples, or at least appeared periodically to them, for a 40-day period, then ascended into heaven.  And, it would be ten days after that that the Holy Spirit would descend upon the followers of Jesus and remain among the followers just as the Holy Spirit remains even today among us, sustaining us and guiding us in our Christian journeys.  Thus, on the 40^thday after Easter we celebrate the Ascension.  And, next Sunday, 50 days after Easter we will celebrate Pentecost – the coming of the Holy Spirit.

Karl Barth, the great 20^thSwiss theologian, referred to this time between Ascension and Pentecost as a “significant pause” – a time to stand still and keep looking up as if that plane that just flew away will return from the same direction.

Our Gospel lessons from the past several Sundays have presented us with the last words of the earthly Jesus, recorded by John’s Gospel, words spoken to his disciples in the last hours before he would be crucified.  In these frightening and uncertain hours before his arrest and brutal death, Jesus speaks to his disciples about the necessity of abiding in his love. Here, abiding in the love of God, Jesus assures his disciples and us, that they and we would find peace and that their joy and our joy will be complete.  These are words of great comfort for the “in between.” Should we be celebratory or apprehensive?

Today’s lesson from Acts fast-forwards to the actions of the followers of Jesus in the aftermath of Jesus’ ascension into heaven.  Prior to the Ascension Jesus makes the promise to send “an advocate,” which we know to be the Holy Spirit.  The words that we read in the beginning of the first chapter of Acts, prior to today’s lesson, are a portion of the lesson appointed for the Feast of the Ascension.  These are the words that Jesus speaks to his disciples as he is ascending into heaven, “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

In this lesson, we read the interesting account of the urgent choosing of Matthias – a story that seems to describe a primitive equivalent of drawing straws or tossing a coin. For these 120 who are gathered listening to Peter’s words, casting lots was an ancient tradition for the purpose of discerning God’s guidance – asking God for a sign of his choice.  The act of choosing was urgent in order to reestablish wholeness.  The number twelve was and is a sacred number that represents wholeness and perfection.  It was urgent and necessary that the one who was lost, Judas Iscariot, be replaced so that wholeness and perfection could be reestablished.

And, so the followers pray for God’s guidance as the lots are cast to choose between the two proposed candidates.  Interestingly, Joseph called Barsabbas was not chosen, yet we know just as much about him as we know about Matthias.  Neither is mentioned again in the Bible.

We can assume that Matthias was an ordinary man who had been an unofficial follower of Jesus. We can all reflect on many ordinary people who have come into our lives and changed us in dramatic ways – an appropriate reflection for Mother’s Day.  We might think of Matthias as representing the ordinary among us who are made sacred and holy by God for his mission in this world.

Matthias represents all of us “very ordinary” children of God made sacred as we abide in the love of Christ and are called to carry out his mission.  It remains a mission fraught with apprehension requiring us to return to Jesus’ words again and again – words of sustenance of the Holy Spirit, words of the peace that only Jesus Christ can bring, words of joy made complete in the promise of everlasting life. It is a mission in the “in between.”

Since the first century, since that day of Ascension, Christians have lived in this “in between” – the period after the Resurrection and the Ascension AND the return of Christ. Along with these first followers, we continue to anticipate.  We do not choose Jesus; Jesus chooses us, as God chose Matthias for his very special mission.  The lot has fallen upon us; we are baptized by water and the spirit – sealed as Christ’s own forever, working toward the completion and perfection of his mission of Jesus Christ; the mission left to us as he ascended to be with the Father; the mission continuing until we are all gathered together as one holy and complete Body of our Lord – his holy graduates.

Acts 10:44-48, 1 John 5:1-6, John 15:9-17, Psalm 98

Jesus said, “I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

This week’s lessons continue the themes of last week: obeying God by living in accordance to his commands – abiding in the love of Christ.  

John, in his first letter, continues his passionate explanation of what it is to live in the love of Christ.  Our Gospel lesson is a continuation of Jesus’ words to his disciples on the night before the Crucifixion.  Jesus was fully aware of the suffering he was to endure; yet he spends these last tender hours with his closest companions speaking of love – abiding in love, living into each day with joy, and bearing the fruits of that love and joy.  

Jesus was clear that the mission would not end with his earthly death.  How was this mission to continue?  How is it that the Christian mission has continued so vibrantly and passionately for over 2,000 years in spite of such enormous adversity?

We find all the answers in these last brief words of Jesus on the night before the Crucifixion as he describes what it means to “abide in him.”  Abiding in Christ means that God is visibly present in us, so that that presence is visible to others – so that even in times of crisis we are vessels of the peace of Christ; rash words and decisions are replaced by a non-anxious presence where God is our guide.  

Abiding in Christ means nurturing joy – joy into which we live each new day.  Among our first prayers each morning should be a prayer for God to replace any anxiety or melancholy with the joy of understanding what it is to be blessed children of God.  Joy is another theme of Jesus’ words on this fateful night, “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” Our joy is complete in Jesus Christ and only in Jesus Christ – this is enough.

Further, Jesus reminds us that abiding in him means embracing our call to bear fruit.  Perhaps, we can give without loving, but we cannot love without giving. As we abide in the love of Christ, our call to bear fruit is the instinctive manifestation of that love; we simply are unable to keep the good fruit to ourselves.

As we abide in the love of Christ, we obey God’s command.

Our commandments from God are solely based on love – for God, for ourselves, and for each other.  These exhortations to obey God should not be interpreted in a simplistic legalistic sense.  Abiding in Christ/obeying God is not accomplished by checking off a list of actions, as we would expect if applying for a building permit.  To obey God is to abide in love, which, as we learned last week, is to make our home in Jesus Christ and invite Jesus Christ to make his home in us.  We don’t turn the switch on and off – Jesus Christ abides in us as we in him.

“If you keep my commandments,” Jesus says, “you will abide in my love.”

 If we love, we obey God.  If we say we do not believe in God, and yet admit that we have experienced love, we are woefully lacking in understanding – for God is love; if we have experienced love, we have experienced God.  

I treasure the account by Phyllis O’Quinn of her frustrating conversation with an avowed non-believer.  Most of us cannot out-argue an atheist; we simply do not have our talking points so firmly ingrained, as do these so-called non-believers.  On this occasion, however, Phyllis credits divine wisdom. In her companion’s tiresome effort to shut down the conversation, he spouted, “I just don’t care about you and what you think!”  Phyllis paused in her frustration, breathed deeply, and then the divinely inspired words came from her mouth, “That’s the difference!” she said, “I do care about you and what you believe.”  

This is love; this is God.  

Go, and bear fruit, fruit that will last – the fruit of abiding in Christ.  Be the presence of Christ in this anxious world; be the complete joy of Christ in the lives of the grieving and the skeptical non-believers; glory in your call – your privilege – to bear the good fruit of the ongoing mission of Jesus Christ.  This is the mission that cannot and will not be stopped.