Message Archive

Acts 2:1-21 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13 John 7:37-39 Psalm 104:25-35, 37

“Out of every believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.”

The Book of Genesis, as you well know, recounts our creation by God the Creator.  For six days, God moved progressively through the creation of our magnificent world – skies, land, and sea; moon and stars; plants bearing seed and trees bearing fruit; creatures of every kind – even Leviathan, which God made “for the sport of it” the Psalmist tells us; and, finally, humankind.  On the seventh day, God rested.

So, how should we interpret the “eighth day”?

Some define the “eighth day” as the end of the age, the day in which God will create the new heaven and the new earth about which the book of the Revelation speaks; the eighth day, then, would be the beginning of the eternal age – the time when God’s true and perfect reign throughout his kingdom would be realized.  But mostly, however, we recognize the eighth day as the day we take up our place, moving forward as God’s created and redeemed creatures living in relationship with all Creation.

The setting for our Gospel lesson, interestingly, is the eighth day – the last day of the Jewish Festival of Booths, otherwise known as the feast of Tabernacles. The Festival of Booths commemorates and celebrates God’s abiding care and guidance throughout Israel’s ancient sojourn in the Wilderness.   For the 40-year duration of their sojourn following their escape from Egypt, the people lived in tents or “booths;” hence, the connotation.  And, at its closing, the festival recognizes and celebrates the “end times” – the manifestation of God’s reign – the eighth day.

At the time of Jesus, the Festival of Booths was the most popular feast among the three pilgrimage feasts of Jewish tradition.  Faithful Jews from all over Palestine would make pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the celebration. Tabernacles, or booths, would be constructed to represent the temporary abodes of the Hebrew sojourn.

For seven days, the men celebrating the feast slept and ate meals in the tent-like booths, and the people danced by the light of the menorah to the singing of the Psalms.  Each morning of the seven days, the priests would lead a procession of singing Levites through the gathered crowd to the Pool of Siloam.  From the flowing waters of the pool, the priests would gather water in pitchers of gold, after which they would return, accompanied by the blasts of the shofer, to the Temple.

With much celebration and song, upon arriving in the Temple, this water from the Pool of Siloam and wine were poured to overflowing into two vessels that had been placed upon the altar in thanksgiving for God’s ever-flowing provision in the Wilderness and in anticipation of the gift of living water of the promised Messiah who was to come as foretold by the prophets.  Flowing “living” water has been a significant symbol of God’s ever-constant presence as expressed in the earliest prophecy and religious ritual continued still in our worship today.

Thus, daily, for seven days these rituals of the Feast of Booths were celebrated.  On the eighth day, great rejoicing and singing continued, but the rituals of water and light were ceased.

This last day of the festival, the eighth day, is referenced by the writer of John’s Gospel as “the great day.”  For, it is on this day that Jesus would stand in the Temple and proclaim, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.” [Hold in your thoughts that, in the days following the festival, much to the consternation of the religious leaders, Jesus would heal the blind man by rubbing mud on his eyes and instructing him to go and wash in this very same Pool of Siloam from which the priests had so reverently gathered the symbolic living water].

The Eighth Day – the day of manifestation of God’s creation, the day of the proclamation of the Living Water of Jesus Christ in God’s Holy Temple.  Jesus is speaking of the coming of the Holy Spirit, which believers are to receive at the appointed time.  From the hearts of believers, Jesus said, “shall flow rivers of living water.”

As described in our lesson from Acts, the Holy Spirit promised by Jesus Christ is made manifest on the Day of Pentecost, another significant Jewish feast – the feast we celebrate today.  This particular Pentecost described in our lesson is a significant transition from Jewish tradition.  It takes place ten days after Jesus has ascended to be with the Father.

Our lesson tells us that devout Jews were gathered for the feast when, suddenly, there was the sound like a violent wind and divided tongues, as of fire, rested on each of the apostles.  Peter, responding to the accusation of being drunk, quotes the prophecy of Joel, ‘In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh.’ [Acts 2:17a] – all flesh, baptized into one body; and, as our Lord declares, from whom shall flow rivers of living water.

This Day of Pentecost is now the third major feast of the Church that we have celebrated in physical isolation.  Even so, this day subtitled the “Birthday of the Church” is the day we celebrate the Holy Spirit being poured into all flesh in the days following the resurrection and ascension of our Lord.  In a sense, it is our eighth day – the day that we reaffirm our place as believers in relationship with all God’s creation.  We have persevered, with God’s provision, in our wilderness journey.  With the coming of this day following the great 50 days of Easter, we are renewed once again in our faith in the Holy Spirit that flows as living water through each of us.

Take a moment to sense the rushing wind filling your entire house with the Holy Spirit; sense the living water flowing through your soul.  From this eighth day onward, from wherever you are, with great joy as if filled with new wine, let the rivers of living waters flow from your heart into all creation.

Acts 1:6-14 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11 John 17:1-11 Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36

“Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” [Acts 1:6a]

Jesus blows past this question by the disciples.

The first verses of the beginning of the book of Acts give us the details of Jesus’ last conversation before ascending to be with the Father.  We celebrated the Ascension this past Thursday – the fortieth day of Easter.  In today’s first lesson, we return to this scene.  It is a surreal time for the disciples; Jesus has returned from the dead, resurrected from the grave.  For forty days, Jesus has appeared suddenly to the disciples in various and mysterious ways, and vanished from them just as suddenly and mysteriously.

The question is understandable.  “Lord, will you restore the kingdom to Israel?”  The “kingdom” represents the essence of life for the disciples – their livelihood, their religion, their personal lives, their political structure of laws that govern every aspect of life, and, most importantly, their understanding of living into their covenant with God.  For centuries Israel has lived in exile and under the brutal control of invading enemies.  For the disciples, having the kingdom restored to Israel would mean they would be free of the Romans, once again free to live their lives as God’s chosen people in the Promised Land.

The disciples’ request is sincere, even if it seems rather short-sighted and legalistic to us – rather like an expectation that Jesus fulfill a certain contract as part of his responsibilities as Israel’s Messiah.  And, by now, wouldn’t they know better than to expect Jesus to respond clearly and concisely.  Always, Jesus’ answers are shrouded in the deeper meaning, prompting a struggle to dig deeper toward the greater good that lay far beyond earthly kingdoms and closed societies.

For Jesus, the restoration of the kingdom carries a meaning far different from that of earthly power.  Jesus had come down to earth to show us the essence of God’s kingdom.  All time is under the authority of God alone, Jesus reminds the disciples.  “But 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.”  [Acts 1:8] In this kingdom, they are no longer disciples – followers, learning at Jesus’ knee.  Once they have received the power of the Holy Spirit, they will be the witnesses; they will be the apostles of the Good News; Apostolos – messenger – one sent forth to deliver the message; the apostles will carry forth their witness from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth.  In this way, they will live into the kingdom of God – the kingdom that, through them and those who will follow, will come to all the earth.

How might we perceive the Kingdom of God as compared to earthly kingdoms?

In his sermon from the Cathedral on May 10, the Rev. Dr. Sam Wells, Vicar of St.-Martin’s-in the-Field, Trafalgar Square, highlighted St. Augustine’s contrast between “using” and “enjoying” God. [https://cathedral.org/worship/service-archive/] Jesus’ message, and certainly his message in today’s lesson, is that God’s intension for us is to enjoy God; the enjoyment being an end in itself.

On the other hand, using God, as we might use a ladder for the specific purpose of climbing up on the roof, defeats God’s desire for us.  If we spend our lives using God as a ladder to get to heaven, we will miss heaven as God intends it.  God’s covenant becomes a contract of expectations – an arbitrary legalistic checklist – rungs in the ladder that might break or be too steep or far too inadequate.  Our time of using God is a time limited by earthly perceptions, living our lives in the anxiety and defeatism defined by a subjective earthly-conspired contract.

Rather, as human beings enjoying God, we are fully alive, and life is forever.  We live fully in the awareness of God’s kingdom on earth, comforted by our oneness with God.  We enjoy God, pleasing God and being pleased by God as he intends – living into our covenant with God, our sustenance in “fiery ordeals” and in times of peace – living prayerfully in the expectation of God’s kingdom here on earth and yet to come.  As Peter describes it: “You are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you.” [1Peter4:14a]

The entirety of John’s Chapter 17 is Jesus’ prayer to the Father on the eve of the crucifixion.   In today’s portion of that prayer, we hear Jesus’ petition that God be glorified in the mission he has fulfilled on earth; that the mission be carried on by those to whom he has made God known; and, of great concern, that the Holy Father would protect those he is leaving behind, that they might be one as Jesus and the Father are one.

As Chapter 18 begins, Jesus heads out into the night into the hands of his betrayers.  He would suffer and die; he would rise from the dead on the third day; he would remain on earth as the Resurrected Lord for 40 days until the time Jesus would ascend to be with Father, physically departing once again.

We have celebrated these 40 days, physically separated from one another, yet one with one another, living daily into God’s kingdom on earth.  We remain now in the “Sacred Pause” between the Ascension and the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost ten days later.

My prayer, too, is that our heavenly Father will protect you in a very special way during this pause in our normal daily activities – this time of isolation and concern for our health and that of our neighbors and loved ones.  I pray that you have had much time to reflect on God’s desire that we enjoy God.  God does not desire to be used as a ladder to heaven – a checklist toward the expectations of a contract governed by our earthly expectations, but a God of perfect love, to be enjoyed as we live into the covenant of eternal life, daily seeking his kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

How wonderful is God in his holy places! *
the God of Israel giving strength and power to his people!
Blessed be God! [Psalm 68:35]

Amen.

Acts 17:22-31 1 Peter 3:13-22 John 14:15-21 Psalm 66:7-18

Jesus said, “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.”

I would guess that almost all of us have had the experience of breaking away, even if only for a short period of time, from someone who is dependent upon our care; all the while leaving that person with the assurance of the care of another trusted soul.  Yet, whether for the long term or just a couple of hours, it is often difficult.  These charges might be our students, or our children, or a loved one suffering from dementia, or our pets.

Whoever they may be, very seldom are we able to convey a sense of calm in the assurance that all will be well, that we would never leave them without proper comfort, that we will return, and things will return to normal; assurance that we are not abandoning them.

In years past I’ve done quite a bit of substitute teaching.  I always regretted it when the teacher would leave me the responsibility of issuing a test; it always seemed that no matter what efforts I made to calm the students, the anxiety level remained, making it difficult for the students to do their best without that familiar presence of their regular teacher.

Our pets even have a keen sense of the changing dynamic.  Sallie Beagle becomes intolerably neurotic at the first sign of suitcases being readied for loading in the car.  Roland and I have to plan ahead and sneak around as if on a clandestine mission; otherwise the maddening howls will completely unnerve us, and the most important items will be left behind.  And, we would never abandon Sallie!

But, truly the most emotionally draining situation is that of having to tear ourselves from the arms of a frantic loved one with mind clouded by dementia who only can understand that we are leaving.  Regardless of our efforts to console, our loved one is not able to conceive that there will be ample comfort and care in the interim, and that we will return as promised.

Truly, we never forget the wrench in our hearts when those who depend on us simply cannot grasp our promise of ongoing care and comfort.  How frustrating not to be able to convey comfort and assurance, to be perceived as leaving a loved one orphaned.  And, particularly at this time of social isolation, our hearts break for those who feel so abandoned – orphaned.

Jesus said, “I will not leave you orphaned.”  As we become frustrated with those unable to be comforted by our promise of abiding care, our Lord, surely, becomes frustrated with us when we cannot trust in his promise that we would not be left orphaned – or, as other versions translate, comfortless.  Jesus does not leave us comfortless.  What greater source of comfort could there be?  Jesus assures us that the Father will give us an Advocate to be with us forever.  This Advocate is the Spirit (capital S) of truth, Spirit not known by the world, Spirit that will abide with us and in us forever.

The Apostle Stephen was not among the twelve original disciples, but Stephen has the distinction of being the first of the followers of Christ to be martyred for his faith, which scholars believe occurred in the year following the Crucifixion.  We read last week from the book of the Acts of the Apostles that Stephen was filled with the Holy Spirit, that he had a vision of the “heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.” [Acts 7:56] Filled with the ever-abiding Holy Spirit, Stephen preached fearlessly even among those charged with the task of snuffing out the mission and message of Jesus Christ.

Our lesson last week detailed Stephen’s death by stoning.  We learned that as he died, he prayed for the Lord to receive his spirit; he knelt down and prayed that his murderers would be forgiven; and then he died.

A line from that scripture text from Acts that is too easily overlooked is that that describes the witnesses of the stoning of Stephen laying their coats at the feet of a man named Saul.  Life has changed a great deal for this man named Saul since we first met him last week.  In the 10 chapters between last week and this week, Saul has become the Paul we know as Apostle to the Gentiles.  Saul was no doubt affected by his witness of the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit that Stephen experienced even as he was being brutally murdered.

That Saul, too, would hear and see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.  The conversion of the Apostle Paul would lead to his broad-reaching missionary journeys and prolific writings that would make up the majority of our New Testament.  After years of persecuting the followers of Jesus Christ, Paul had come to experience the ever-abiding presence of the Advocate as Jesus had promised.  Enduring persecution, abandonment, and martyrdom, Paul, from that time forward, lived and died in the assurance that the Spirit of truth was with him and in him, just as he had witnessed that assurance in Stephen.

In today’s lesson from the book of Acts, Paul has arrived in Athens proclaiming the one God – the God of creation, the Lord of heaven and earth – not the god of Grecian epicurean tradition or a god crafted by mortals from gold, or silver, or stone.  Paul is making his proclamations in the famous very public ancient meeting place in Athens.  The God that Paul proclaims has confirmed his abiding presence by raising Jesus Christ from the dead; God commands repentance from misguided earthly adorations and misdirected human arrogance.

Paul preached fearlessly in the face of danger, as Stephen had preached just as fearlessly while stones beat the life out of his body.  Neither doubted Jesus’ words that he had spoken on the eve of his earthly death:  The Father will give you an Advocate, to be with you forever – the Spirit of truth, abiding with you and in you.  “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.”

What a blessing it would be to be able to convince our dependent children and stricken loved ones and, even, our pets that we are not leaving them without trusted care and comfort.  What a blessing it is during this time of fear and uncertainty when we are able to recognize and comprehend and find true comfort in the words of our Lord, “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.”  The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, abides with you and in you forever.

Acts 7:55-60 1 Peter 2:2-10 John 14:1-14 Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

When my father died 15 years ago, he carried with him a secret – the secret that he knew he was dying, that his heart was growing weaker day by day.  And, he knew that if he shared that secret with my mother or any one of us, we would insist that he go to the doctor.  Keeping his secret (as I believe he had decided) would help assure that he would die at home rather than in hospital where he feared heroic efforts might prolong his life and require heart-wrenching decisions by family members.

Secretly aware of his approaching mortality, in the few days preceding his death, my father had phoned an exhaustive list of his beloved – his children, siblings, my mother’s siblings, far-spread cousins, long-time friends, neighbors, and church friends.  His expectation was that this was his last conversation with each of us, which remained carefully unrevealed, and we remained blissfully unaware of the preciousness of these conversations.  After his death, in conversation with these loved ones, there was the consistent echo, “He just called me a few days ago.”

Slowly, we began to understand; with God’s blessings and his earthly container weary and worn, Daddy made the decision to live whatever short time was left celebrating those who were dear to him.  This phone call to each of his chosen beloved was the final expression of his love.  Only with the passage of time and reflection would the secret message of his selfless autonomous decision be revealed to us.  With the passage of time, the true message in the phone call became clear.  Facing his earthly departure calmly, that message was: “It’s okay.”  “This is between God and me.”  Do not doubt that I love you.”  “Be at peace with my departure.”

The 14^th Chapter of John’s Gospel that includes our lesson for today is subtitled “Departure.”  The entirety of these middle five chapters, Chapters 13-17, is devoted to Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse.”  These are Jesus’ last words to his followers on the eve of the crucifixion as they are gathered in the Upper Room for their last meal together.  Jesus was aware of the betrayal, denial, and brutal execution that would be accomplished before the next day would be done.  He was leaving his final urgent instructions for the disciples who would be charged to carry the mission into the uncertain future.

Within this portion of this “Departure” discourse that we hear today are words of comfort and assurance:  Jesus, being one with the Father, was going to the Father to prepare a permanent dwelling place in the realm of God for all those who believe.  As the lengthy discourse droned on, with minds and hearts whirling with fear and confusion, the disciples could not possibly digest the breadth of the message they were hearing on that night.  Only the days, months, and centuries of reflection on Jesus’ last words and actions would allow clarity of interpretation of the necessity of his violent death – death necessary in order to give power to his message of comfort and peace for all who believe; showing us, through his death, what it is to trust God even in the face of debased humanity; leaving us with the vital instructions to love as he has loved, forgive, and serve one another.

And so, again and again, we read these words.  Again, and again Jesus’ words on the eve of betrayal, denial, and torturous death bring the comfort and assurance that they are intended to bring.   It is easy to understand why this scripture text is a favorite choice for the burial rite.

Years passed before it seemed my mother found some level of peace regarding my father’s death.  She agonized over her lack of attentiveness to his secreted awareness of his weakened state, blaming herself for not insisting he seek medical care, never quite accepting that he had plotted his course and faced his earthly death as he desired.

Unlike my father, Jesus was not at all secretive about his impending death.  It was not his intention to frighten the disciples, but to help them understand the urgency of his message and the necessity of his death.  Only much later, with ongoing reflection, would they begin to understand that Jesus’ earthly death was in God’s hands and in God’s time.  The crucifixion was not to be circumvented by any earthly force; the Resurrection explains and confirms it all, though it takes a lifelong faith journey to digest the breadth of this reality.  As Peter describes us in his letter:  We are like newborn infants, longing for the pure, spiritual milk, so that we may grow into salvation, having tasted that the Lord is good.

As Resurrection people, we can interpret the message of today’s Gospel lesson in the light of our Risen Lord; as Resurrection people the message becomes clearer over time.  Jesus is saying, “If you want to see God, here I am.” Jesus is saying, “If you want to follow the Way, here are the instructions.”  And, Jesus is saying, “If you seek peace for your troubled heart, believe in me, trust in my words.  The Father and I are one.”

Believe and trust as Jesus instructed us with paramount concern for our peace and comfort even as he faced his own horrendous death.  Believe and trust that there is prepared for you a permanent dwelling where all will abide in oneness with God through the grace of Christ Jesus our Lord.‎

Acts 2:42-47 1 Peter 2:19-25 John 10:1-10  Psalm 23

…by his wounds you have been healed.  For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.

Peter’s bold words in his letter to the mixed gatherings of persecuted first century Christians continue from last week.  Peter’s words remind us that whatever our station in life, we are healed through the blood of Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd.  In whatever way we have strayed from the path, always, we find healing upon our return to the shepherd; we place ourselves within the shepherd’s embrace, keenly aware of God’s abiding presence through Jesus Christ our Lord – the guardian of our souls.

As people of God, we are called to take note of God’s presence in the most significant or crucial events of our daily lives as well as the simplest events of day to day.  Too often, we approach our ongoing reflection of God’s providence from the standpoint of an event “being God’s will” or being something God “allowed” to happen.  We say, “Why do bad things happen to “good” people?  Why is there always war someplace in the world?  Can’t God stop war?  Is this God’s will?”  And, probably, each of us has been outraged or completely disheartened at one time or another by someone declaring our misfortune as being God’s will.  So, who do any of us think we are declaring God’s will?

Even so, asking these big questions is a necessary part of our life-long faith journey.

But, exploring God’s presence in our simplest or in our most critical daily activities comes from a different perspective.  Rather than spinning our wheels agonizing over and trying to determine why God allows earthquakes and mass killing and deadly viruses, we come from the perspective of contemplating God’s grace in those tragedies.  Isn’t this a better use of our time – a healthier exercise in faith.   Where is God’s grace in your life right at this moment?

This redirection of thought is not denial of the tragedy; rather, our redirection of thought allows us an attitude of calm amidst the clamor, a calm that allows us to address the crisis more effectively, keeping our focus on God’s presence.  And, most importantly, it is here, in acknowledging God’s presence, that we hear God’s call to our place in the healing of the tragedy?

Where is God in tragedy?  You know the answer.  God is present in the unknown first responders who bring critical emergency health care; God is present in the mega trucker who slops through the deep murky waters to rescue flood victims; God is present in the neighbor who brings the hot meal on the 40^th day of our social isolation.

Where is God present in COVID-19?  For too many, the social isolation has exacerbated loneliness and depression.  An article posted this week offered the advice for counteracting depression with exercises of thanksgiving.  We can all benefit.  One suggestion is to sit quietly and picture in your mind someone who has affected your life in a most positive way; concentrate on the positive impacts this person has had over a period of time; write a letter to this person, whether you intend to mail it or not, or whether the person is alive or deceased.

Another suggestion is to write down, at the end of the day, three simple or significant items of thanksgiving (such as: my neighbor delivered the dog food I needed, and could not lift; my husband replaced the weak battery in my mower, and got it running again; my cousin shared a family picture that brought back sweet memories; a parishioner called to say her surgery showed no cancer).  The exercise of thanksgiving is an exercise of breathing in fresh air and breathing out anxiety.  When we acknowledge our gratitude, we honor God’s presence – God’s ongoing gift of grace that overflows in our mundane daily lives, even when we do not notice.

Where is God present?  Where do we experience God’s grace?

Jesus’ words recorded in John’s Gospel about gates and gatekeepers and shepherds and thieves and bandits can be a bit disconcerting.  Just how is it we are to recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd?  How will I be sure it is not the voice of a thief or bandit?  Will I hear that voice suddenly; will it be familiar, and will I know to follow?

Well, again, we can spend our time agonizing over these questions as if we expect a bolt of lightning to alert us.  Or, we can very intentionally devote our time, moment by moment, prayerfully discovering the many ways God is present and has always been present, even in the simplest slices of our everyday lives.  God is present in Jesus Christ; Jesus Christ is the gate.  We can rest in the assurance that Jesus welcomes us at the gate – the gate through which we come for nurturance and from which we are called to mission.  In our every step of coming and going, God is present.

Acts 2:14a,36-41 1 Peter 1:17-23 Luke 24:13-35 Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17

…Live in reverent fear during the time of your exile.  1 Peter 1:17b

This line from Peter’s first letter has resounded with me this week.

The word “exile” would resound with the mixed group of first century Christians in the areas of Asia Minor who would be receiving this letter from the Apostle Peter.  Among the recipients were Jewish Christians who knew well the history of their ancestors who had lived in exile for four centuries in Egypt under the reigns of brutal pharaohs up until the time of the Exodus.  Centuries later, generations of Jews were exiled to Babylon and Persia by enemy armies that devastated Judah and Israel, destroyed Solomon’s Temple, and carried them into captivity into these areas of the Middle East that remain so war-torn today.  These first century Jewish Christians knew their history well; they knew the impact of exile; they knew what it was to be aliens in a strange and unwelcoming land where they were neither free nor safe.

Perhaps some among this group to which Peter is writing were Jews whose ancestors, after being driven away, had never returned to Israel in the centuries up until this first century present day.  Others in the group had more recently been driven out of Jerusalem because they were known to be believers of Jesus Christ as their crucified, risen, and ascended Lord.  They had been banned from the Temple and from their local synagogues; they had been unjustly accused of violence; their lives had been endangered; they had fled to the safety of areas to the north of Israel.

And, joining them among the recipients of Peter’s letter were the non-Jewish – the Gentiles and the former pagans – who were likely household slaves.  Declaring themselves Christian was offensive to many in their society.  They were ostracized, even persecuted, for declaring themselves followers of Jesus Christ.  They, too, knew danger and exile.

Peter writes to this mixed group of exiles, now one in Jesus Christ, living day by day in this fearful early post-resurrection era.  Peter writes of the assurance of their ransom, not with perishable things like silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ …for their sake and our sake.  Born anew, Peter continues, … of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God.

Peter’s words resonated particularly this week after a clergy colleague defined our present time of social isolation as exile.  As sacramental people of God, we live in exile for now, unable to share, in the physical and traditional sense, the Holy Communion that feeds and unites us all as one in Christ Jesus.  In our conference with Bishop Haynes, we clergy across the diocese shared our thoughts of how and when we might return to the Holy Communion.  “Perhaps for now,” my friend said, “we must accept that we are in exile; we live into the exile; we fast; and as our fast continues week after week, we hunger more and more intensely for the Holy Communion.”  Masks and gloves, maybe even forceps, and social distancing just don’t fit our theological and sacramental understanding of Holy Communion.  We must wait.

We must continue to wait reverently in exile, hungering more intensely day by day for the Holy Food – for the Holy Communion that is the outward and visible sign of our oneness in Christ Jesus – the imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God.

In our lesson from Luke’s Gospel, Cleopus and his companion had set out on their seven-mile journey from Jerusalem to Emmaus, walking into their own sense of exile and hopelessness.  The life they were seeking as followers of Jesus Christ seemed to have crashed and burned.  The recent events surrounding Jesus’ last days and the crucifixion, and now the disappearance of his body, had left them ever more confused and frightened.  What was to come of them?

Then a stranger came along beside them, coming to them in their state of despair as they walked this lonely road.   They urged him to stay the evening with them.  At supper, he took the bread, blessed the bread, broke the bread, and shared with them.  Then, their eyes were opened; their hearts burned as they recognized the presence of their Risen Lord.

Our Lord is by our side on our lonely and, for some, desperate paths of exile.  Our hearts burn and yearn for the time that our worship community will be restored.

We know of restoration from exile; we have been ransomed by the precious blood of Christ, born anew through the living and enduring word of God, known to us in the breaking of the bread.      Amen

Acts 2:14a,22-32 1 Peter 1:3-9 John 20:19-31 Psalm 16

In the evening of the day of Resurrection, the disciples are sheltering in place in the same secluded room where they had shared their last earthly meal with Jesus three days before.  They have survived the nightmarish whirlwind and, now, are in isolation from society, in safe housing from those who would seek their crucifixions in the same way they crucified Jesus.

These closest followers were well known as Jesus’ faithful disciples.  For them, it is a frightening reality that the religious powers would again ally with political powers to purge any remnants of Jesus’ mission.  The elite among Jesus’ own people had been successful, so they thought, in stamping out the mouthy radical.  No doubt, the religious leaders were themselves hiding under a rock, held in suspense, uncertain of the fallout of their actions.

John’s Gospel describes the disciples crouched together; we could imagine a state of near panic; most of them had fled in fear for their own safety along the road to the cross.  But, as events unfolded, they had ventured from their separate hiding places, seeking sanctuary with one another.  Certainly, Mary Magdalene’s eyewitness account of the risen Jesus would have aroused their curiosity and inspired hope that seemed so remote just a day ago.

Mary Magdalene’s report seems too good to be true.  Can they believe it?  Thomas expresses the skepticism we all would have shared.

Then Jesus, indeed, does appear – speaking peace, breathing upon them the Holy Spirit within whom is the essence of forgiving and being forgiven.  The Risen Lord, fresh from the grave of a most unjust and brutal death, demonstrates the essence of our earthly mission enveloped in peace and forgiveness.

In the months and years to follow, Peter would come to better articulate the magnificent mystery of the resurrection.  In the portion of Peter’s first letter that we read today, Peter writes of the new birth given to us – a new birth “into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.” [1 Peter 1:3-5]

The effort to stamp out the mission and ministry of Jesus Christ has continued from this time of fear and isolation by the disciples in the days following the resurrection to today.  But, powered by the words of their Risen Lord, the disciples would venture from their hiding places to give the remainder of their lives to the discipleship of Jesus Christ.  Some would be crucified; others stabbed, beheaded, or beaten to death.  But, the mission and ministry of Jesus Christ would not be stamped out.  Time and again, the mission is tested by our doubt; time and again the mission is given new birth by our faith in the unfading inheritance secured for us in heaven.

On these Sundays when our church sanctuaries are silent and our altars bare, there are those who would surmise that the mission and ministry of Jesus Christ is being defeated, finally, by an invisible enemy that has forced us all into isolated seclusion.  And, indeed, the Church is suffering the challenge of an invisible relentless foe who desires that we crouch in fear in our separate hiding places.

But, we say “No” to the naysayers.  We, like the early disciples, seek creative means to usurp the boundaries of our social isolation with determination to continue the mission.  Our Food Pantry perseveres in spite of limited funds and sparse food supplies and heightened concerns for sanitation; our staff and choir combine their talents to offer elements of worship that bring satisfaction of our hunger for connection and corporate praise to God; parishioners reach out to fellow parishioners as never before.  We offer one another the unbounded gift of Christian love and compassion, serving one another in the name of Jesus Christ.

When a loved one dies, we nearly always regret not having taken more time to express our love; if only we could have another chance, a few more moments to affirm our love.   Jesus’ death on the cross opened the eyes of his disciples to the essence of his all-powerful presence.  Now, he has risen, and they begin again in the spirit of new birth.

Perhaps we too had become complacent in our devotion to one another and to our community – allowing relationships to fade, or even die.  Our experience of social isolation offers an experience of new birth – another chance for renewal.  WE are the Church; we are the mission and ministry of Jesus Christ.  Our “inheritance is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, … protected by the power of God [even now] through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.”  Amen

 Jeremiah 31:1-6 Colossians 3:1-4 Acts 10:34-43 John 20:1-18 Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

There are times in our lives so confounding and inexplicable that only the presence of angels can bring us clarity and solace.  Angels are messengers of God.  The Greek word used in the New Testament translates to “messenger” or “delegate”.

There are nearly 200 references to angels in the New Testament, but relatively few descriptions of encounters with humans.  The actual encounters between humans and angels come at the significant times of major transformative events – times when God has a particularly astonishing message that only the presence of angels could confirm.

Somehow, we always assume angels are female; yet, the angel who appeared to the Virgin Mary was Gabriel, a male, announcing God’s favor toward her, that through the power of the Holy Spirit, she would conceive and bear a son whom she was to name Jesus.  Across town, at about the same time, an unnamed angel appeared to Joseph in a dream to assure him that the child Mary had conceived is of the Holy Spirit and that Joseph should not be afraid to take Mary as his wife.

Months later, an angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds in the fields surrounding Bethlehem to alert them of the birth of the Messiah.  And, in the days following Jesus’ baptism, when he was driven by Satan into the wilderness, the writers of Matthew and Mark report that angels attended Jesus there in the wilderness once Satan had departed after 40 days of unsuccessful attempts to derail Jesus’s mission; it was at this point that Jesus’ ministry began.

In each of these accounts, the angels have been the messengers – the delegates of God bringing clarity and solace at a time of a major transformative event; an event that would redirect human history.

In today’s Gospel account of the Resurrection, Mary Magdalene encounters angels in the empty tomb, “sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet.”

“Woman, why are you weeping?” they ask.

Without doubt, in spite of Mary Magdalene’s desperate response, they knew the answer.  And, at the same time, knew that Mary Magdalene’s tears would quickly become tears of inexplicable joy.  In the next instant, Mary Magdalene reeled around to find a stranger, quite suddenly to be identified as Jesus, the Risen Christ, soon to ascend to be with the Father.

“Do not hold onto me.” Jesus says.  Go and tell the others.

Just as the angels had brought God’s miraculous message to Mary and Joseph of the babe conceived by the Holy Spirit; just as the angel had brought the glorious message to the shepherds of the birth of the Savior; these angels in the empty tomb confirmed God’s most important message, the message of the world’s greatest, most transformative event:  Jesus, the Son of God, who was crucified, dead, and buried has risen from the dead.

Mary Magdalene, her heart bursting with astounding joy, her mind unable to grasp the reality, becomes the bearer of the message – the messenger – the angel of God.  Sit for just a moment with her joy.

What greater astounding joy could there be than to be the messenger of this message we celebrate today… Inexplicable joy, even and especially in this time of particular fear and uncertainty throughout this turned-upside-down world.

Alleluia, Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed.  Alleluia!

Let us, blessed to be the messenger-angels, go forth in the name of Christ.

Thanks be to God.  Alleluia!

Isaiah 50:4-9a Philippians 2:5-11 Matthew 26:14- 27:66 Psalm 31:9-16

Pilate asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?”  Jesus responded, “You say so.” But when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer.  Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many accusations they make against you?” But he gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

After years of preaching from the mountain top and teaching in the synagogue, feeding the hungry and healing the sick; after years of having all the answers for friend and foe – direct references to the Hebrew scripture, timeless parables, even questions as the answer to questions – now, Jesus has fallen silent.  Standing unjustly accused before the chief priests and the governor, after years of comforting his followers and confounding his adversaries, Jesus gives no answer.

This is the transition of Passion Sunday; Passion Sunday is a day of two extremes:  We begin with the celebration of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, processing with our palms, singing that glorious hymn – All glory, laud and honor to thee, Redeemer, King – “King of Israel,” “David’s royal Son,” “Blessed One.”  This is Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem; the week of this final visit will be fraught with growing tension and controversy, which Jesus, himself, ignites and brings to a head.  The week will end with denial and betrayal and death – profound silence.  [Fortunately, we are well aware of how next week will begin].

But, today, we stand with Jesus before Pilate.  Jesus, laden with our sins – the sins of all humanity; at this necessary time, Jesus has emptied himself.  As described by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians [the Christ Hymn] Jesus, emptying himself of his divinity, being found in human form, humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on the cross – being found in human form.

As we breathe in the reality of the Passion Narrative, we are humbled again and again by this one full and perfect sacrifice for the sake of all creation.  Say to yourself, “Jesus did this for me.”

As you breathe in the reality of the Passion Narrative, stand with Jesus and with all who stand alone before an unjust accuser.  Consider the weight of the Cross, the burdens that Jesus bore for our sake, fully human as we are human, collapsing under the weight of the Cross as we have often felt we will collapse under the weight of our earthly burdens.  Contemplate the indignity of being stripped naked, mocked, and spat upon.  Jesus, fully human, bore the physical and emotional pain to the same degree as any other human.  Jesus lived and died as one of us; Jesus knows our suffering and fear; Jesus willingly and silently without resistance takes our suffering and fear upon himself.

As you breathe in the reality of the Passion Narrative, as you move into the silence and solemnity of Holy Week, be affirmed that you do not stand abandoned before unjust accusers; you do not bear the weight of the Cross on your shoulders alone; and that, as you suffer the indignities of this world in the name of Jesus Christ, you remain in solidarity with our Lord Jesus Christ who being found in human form, humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on the cross.

Blessed Holy Week.

Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45

Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.

Breathing is an involuntary bodily function; our body just does it for us for as long as we live.  Our intricate bodily mechanisms, when functioning correctly, work in concert to allow us to breathe in the outside air, convert the air to the appropriate level of oxygen that the body needs, and distribute this oxygen appropriately as required throughout the body.  If we were to take the time to study in detail this intricate process, we would be inspired to pause in this awareness of God’s magnificent miracle of creation – us, our human body – breathing in God’s peace, breathing out God’s love for all creation.

Thankfully, medical technology is able to provide an artificial means of breathing at times of critical illness such as for those millions suffering from the COVID-19; restoring them to healthy breathing is the critical goal.  So many lives are compromised by breathing disorders.  Asthma sufferers are equipped with life or death medications and must acquire special techniques to remain calm until the spasmodic attack can be relieved and the lungs can be freed of the constriction that blocks normal inhalation and exhalation.  Cystic fibrosis is a disease that attacks the lungs by producing thick mucus that obstructs airways.  A near choking or near drowning experience, not being able to get our breath, is an experience never to be forgotten.  Without breathing, our vital organs are quickly and irreparably damaged.  Breathing is the essence of life.  Take a deep breath and feel the sense of peace that fills your soul and body.

And yet, in times of difficulty, such as in these days of health concern and financial uncertainty, we become aware that the world is figuratively and physically holding its breath.  Every day’s events heighten our awareness of the necessities of our interconnectedness and the repercussions of having that interconnectedness so limited.  Our fears are inhibiting our ability to breathe; much like the spasmodic attacks of asthma, our bodies are tense and constricted.  In many cases, anger and frustration have obstructed our ability to breathe in the peace of God and breathe out God’s love for all creation.

How interesting, how ironic, is today’s kinda funny Old Testament lesson from the prophet Ezekiel.  “Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones.” The prophet Ezekiel is speaking to the people of Israel suffering through exile, choked off from their homeland, struggling to trust God’s providence.  The people say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’

But, says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.  How ironic that in the midst of a global respiratory pandemic, amongst the desperate cry for the mass manufacture of necessary respirators throughout the world, God’s word reminds us to breathe.  God’s word reminds us that it is God who breathes into us the breath of life; it is God who breathed us into creation; it is God who is the essence of life.

Our Gospel account describes the grief and desperation of Martha and Mary of Bethany, dear friends of Jesus, whose brother Lazarus has died.  They had summoned their friend Jesus in whom they had faith could cure their brother’s illness and prevent his death.  The word came to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.”

Yet, Jesus, their dear friend had taken his time in making his way to their home.  Our lesson from John tells us that he delayed two more days before setting off toward Bethany, a town near Jerusalem where, by this time, Jesus’ ministry had become a great source of tension and controversy.

The sisters were frustrated by Jesus’ delay, which certainly intensified their grief.  Both sisters blurted out their frustration, perhaps anger, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  Yet, even in their frustration and grief, maybe anger, they remained steadfast in faith in Jesus “the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” 

And, Jesus restored the earthly life of their brother Lazarus; Lazarus emerged from his tomb – breathing freely no doubt.

We, too, may be frustrated or even angry and grief-stricken that God has not brought about a speedy renewal of “normalcy” in our lives.  The moment-be-moment “breaking news” begins to feel like a funeral dirge; the suffering multiplies with each coming day.  How much longer Lord?    ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’

So, today, hear the word of the LORD, “I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.”

At my kitchen sink, next to my trusted bottle of hand wash, is one of those little shiny rocks engraved with the word BREATHE.  As I count to 20 seconds while washing my hands, I remind myself to breathe for those 20 seconds, really breathe God’s peace deeply into my bones.

I don’t know how much longer we will be physically apart; I push away the fear of those of us who might be adversely affected in irreparable ways; but I know we have to keep breathing in God’s peace, restoring life to our dry bones, and breathing out God’s love for all creation.

Repraying the Collect: Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

The Third Sunday of isolation amidst the Corona Virus Pandemic