Message Archive

Jeremiah 31:27-34 Psalm 119:97-104 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5 Luke 18:1-8

There is an old story of a girl watching a holy man pray by the riverbank.  Approaching the holy man, the girl asks that he teach her to pray.  In response, the holy man leads the girl into the river and instructs her to hold her face close to the water.  There the holy man pushes her face under the water until she struggles to be free.

Gasping for air, the girl asks, “Why did you do that?”

“This is your lesson,” responds the holy man, “When you long to pray as much as you long to breathe, then you can learn to pray.”

Prayer is the breath we breathe.

In our Gospel lesson, Jesus is seeking to foster this kind of perseverance and persistence in his disciples.  He is urgently preparing them for a time when he is no longer present with them on earth.  Jesus continues to emphasize to his disciples that their lives of mission and ministry going forward will require persistence in faith.  And, to accomplish this persistence in faith, they will need to be persistent in prayer.

The power of prayer is a mysterious question throughout our lives.  Does God really answer our prayers?  Do we change God with our prayers, or does God change us?  Does prayer bring about miracles?

Prayer may not make all things right in our estimation on our terms, but I do know that without prayer, things seem to go very wrong.  So, when you’re feeling anxious and grumpy and there seem to be obstacles at every turn, do a prayer check.  Being persistent in prayer sometimes requires praying that we might be persistent in prayer.

We can compare our need for persistent prayer, persistent thanksgiving, and persistent worship with the metaphor of the log pulled from the flaming camp fire.  Pulled from the fire, the log remains, for a while, encrusted with blazing embers.  Yet, with the passing moments, the log pulled off to itself slowly but steadily loses its glow.  Alone, disconnected from its source, it grows cold and dies in the dirt.  Lacking persistence in prayer, our lives grow cold and misdirected. Maybe we could compare it to stepping out into the rain without giving thought to donning a raincoat.

It is through persistent prayer that we best determine God’s will for our lives, that we best determine God’s answer for our prayers.  Little by little, bit by bit, little epiphanies, little answers to big questions.  Sometimes God says “yes;” sometimes God says “not now;” usually God says, “I have a better idea.” Through persistent prayer we see that better idea more clearly, being vehemently thankful for God’s guidance above our own.  Always, God says, “I will not leave your comfortless, I am with you through this storm.”  The odd thing is that it is only through persistent prayer that we begin to understand the inexplicable power of prayer.

Persistence in prayer allows us to be calm amidst chaos and conflict.  Persistence in prayer allows us to be at peace with our earthly mortality and that of our loved ones – at peace even when each new day brings increasing difficulty and, it seems, that God is silent.  Even then, we just keep praying, sharing conversation with our dearest friend and companion, Jesus Christ.

Finally, in our Old Testament lesson from the prophet Jeremiah, we read of Israel’s redemption and renewal.  In exile, the remnant of Israel remained faithful and persistent.  That persistence of the remnant is manifested in the renewed covenant.  Israel will return to her homeland and again be recognized as the people of God.

It is through persistent prayer that we see more clearly the injustice in our world and in our own hearts.  We pray to be persistent and constant in prayer to act accordingly in the face of injustice.  We pray that we will come to be totally aware of our dependence on prayer as we are dependence upon the breath we breathe.

Jesus, instructing the disciples how to pray, begins by encouraging them to pray that their earthly existence will be equivalent to that in heaven.  Jesus instructs the disciples and us to pray that on earth as it is in heaven, God’s name will be hallowed; God’s kingdom will come; and God’s will will be done.

Whether it is on a crowded fast-flowing highway or a comfy chair in a quiet meditative spot in our den, Jesus exhorts us to focus our prayers with intention, to make our prayers the breath we breathe – to pray without ceasing that our earthly sense of separation from heaven will become thinner and thinner as we are united with Christ.

Think of our war weary world and our bitterly divided country.  Imagine hundreds of millions of prayerful people of God, praying that God’s kingdom will reign here as it does in heaven.  Imagine the hundreds of millions of hearts that would be changed by persistent prayer.  Imagine the power of every American praying – truly praying – for the compassion and ability to love and listen to his neighbor with open heart, unclenched fist, and lowered voice; and that our neighbors will open their hearts to us in return, rather than shouting down the conversation and further dividing us.

God has known each of us from the time we were formed in our mother’s womb.  We are in his midst and he has called us by name.  God wants only what is best for us.  Keep open that conversation with the one who loves you beyond imagination; don’t stop, even if confronted by the temptation to lose hope; don’t stop, no matter what.  There you will find strength for the journey, even though it may take you far from the path you expected; there you will find rest in God’s unconditional love; there you will find your clear call to the mission of God’s kingdom.  Just keep the conversation flowing, keep knocking at God’s door until you feel it open wide.

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7 Psalm 66:1-11 2 Timothy 2:8-15 Luke 17:11-19

Then Jesus said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

I had an interesting phone call late Wednesday afternoon from Elaine Brelsford, the development manager for Boys Home in Covington, VA.  The Church of the Advent has supported Boys Home over its many decades in various ways.  Boys Home is a haven for young males whose wellbeing depends upon being rescued from high risk, highly troubled environments.

Ms. Brelsford began to tell me of a young man, an alumnus of Boys Home, who had accompanied her here to Advent recently on a weekday visit.  As a child in the 1980’s during the time of Fr. Herb Smith, this young man had been active here at Advent.  Ms. Brelsford told of him standing here in the nave before the Christus Rex, transfixed with memories and gratitude.

Unfortunately, during those early years while he was here, the boy’s family had experienced great turmoil that culminated in his becoming a resident of Boys Home.  Fortunately, in that nurturing environment, he received care and counselling and education, insulated from the tragedy of his broken family.  Throughout all those tumultuous years, Fr. Smith and Advent remained engaged in the boy’s life.  And, with God’s help, family disfunction was healed to the point that this young boy was eventually reunited with his parents and siblings.

Now, many years have passed; the sensitive young boy has grown into a successful man.  And, he has never forgotten the nurturance and direction he received from those of you who were present during this turbulent and impressionable period in his early life.  On November 24, one of Ms. Brelsford’s colleagues from Boys Home plans to come to speak to us during the worship service; I’m certain he will share more of the boy’s story – all in thanksgiving for the seeds of God’s goodness that were planted in him in this place and further nurtured at Boys Home.

Reflecting on this conversation in relation to last week’s Gospel lesson and this week’s lesson in the verses that immediately follow, I can’t help but be impressed by the powerful connective tissue of these real-life accounts – these from 2,000 years ago that Luke relates to us, and this from much more recent history.

Last week, Jesus instructed his disciples on the immeasurable power of the tiniest seed of faith – faith, which is a gift from God; the faith of Jesus Christ that we are to mirror to the world; faith made manifest, as its tiniest seed, nurtured by God’s grace, regenerates and spreads generation after generation.  As disciples of Christ, we are slaves to that gift of the faith of Christ, all glory and thanks to God, as we delight in his will and walk in his ways.

Having shared these faith lessons with his disciples, Jesus and his entourage moved southward toward the region of Samaria where they encountered ten lepers, keeping their distance as prescribed by society, all while pleading loudly for Jesus’ mercy and healing.  Luke tells us that Jesus “saw” them and spoke healing to the ten.  Then, following Jesus’ instruction, they departed to show themselves to the priest, and as they went they “were made clean.”

The Greek language in which the Gospels are recorded does not differentiate healing and salvation; to be healed is to be saved; to be saved is to be healed.  We are not promised physical healing on our terms, we are promised spiritual healing, which is salvation.  Luke states that the ten lepers were “made clean” of the physical ailment, which had rendered them outcasts of society.

Yet, we sense that the significance of the encounter is yet to be revealed; the physical healing of the ten lepers is truly only a sideline to our Gospel account.  The significant message of this encounter with the ten lepers is encompassed in the actions of the one who “turned back, praising God with a loud voice,” prostrating himself in thanksgiving at Jesus’ feet.

Luke tells us that the one who “turned back” was a Samaritan – a triple outcast – a foreign Samaritan leper who, so completely and effectively, demonstrated the fundamentals of our salvation through faith in Jesus Christ.

In this redeemed Samaritan leper, we find the essentials of our faith journey: By means of our redemption by grace through our faith in Jesus Christ, we are cleansed of sin.  Recognizing the reality of the gift of our salvation, we “turn back” – we turn our lives to the path of Jesus Christ, that we might walk in his ways rather than our own poorly directed earthly ways.  With all praise and glory to God, we prostrate ourselves before God in thanksgiving.  And, it is in this thanksgiving that we are made “well” as the Samaritan leper was “made well.”  It is in this thanksgiving that we are made “well.”

Luke differentiates through the use of two different Greek terms the meaning of being made “clean,” as were the ten, from the meaning of being made “well,” as was the one.  To be made well encompasses gratitude and thanksgiving to God – the recognition that we owe all thanks and glory to God for all things; the recognition that God is in all things.  And, in all things, we are made well.

Our young boy went away from here seeking and finding the cleansing healing that Boys Home so effectively provided through God’s grace.  Yet, again and again, spiritually and physically, he has turned back to give thanks for the seeds of love and healing that were planted and nurtured by this parish over 30 years ago.  Now, he has grown into a successful man whose faith has made him well.  All thanks be to God.

Lamentations 1:1-6 (Canticle) Lamentations 3:19-26 2 Timothy 1:1-14 Luke 17:5-10

On our family’s visit to Europe in the spring of last year, we journeyed through the rolling fertile hills of Belgium and Germany, following, as best we could determine, the path of the US Army’s 78^th Lightening Division through the Battle of the Bulge.  When WWII ended in Europe in May of 1945, my father was required to remain there for the next 6 months in the areas of Marburg and Nuremburg.  He never told us much about those years, but with a bachelor’s degree in crop science, he apparently filled many of those days guiding the local people to reclaim their bombed-out countryside, converting battlefields to crop-producing fields.

As we travelled by train through the luscious countryside nearly 75 years later, I could not help but think of the healing and forgiveness that must have taken root and sprouted from this simple process of coming together to plant seeds and trusting God to provide the increase.  Surely, this is at least part of the reason my father so loved planting his fields year after year in the decades after returning safely from the war, trusting God to give the increase.

This familiar imagery of the tiny mustard seed illustrating the power of faith is rich fodder for our spiritual reflection.  A tiny seed, taken from the pseudo-safety of its package, entrusted to the soil, where it dies to itself as it sprouts upward toward the beckoning sun, and puts down roots into the nurturing moisture of the fertile soil.  A tiny seed planted, watered, given its increase by the grace of God, growing into an enormous shrub, bearing seed for the next generation – hundreds of seeds, themselves planted to produce hundreds of shrubs, again and again, generation after generation, all given their increase by the grace of God – all glory to God.

Years passing, the tiny mustard seed that died to itself in order to live into God’s grace has the potential to spread throughout the world, eventually covering the earth with its sweeping branches.  Might that be the impact of our faith during our time here on earth.

This is faith that lives into the goodness of God’s grace.  The nurturance of our faith, like the nurturance of the tiny mustard seed, is not from our human effort; our faith and its nurturance are given by God.

The disciples say to Jesus, “increase our faith.”  Those who are bothered by subjective responses to questions must get very frustrated with Jesus’ answers.  Can you imagine Jesus in a congressional hearing?  “Sir, sir, just answer the question!  Yes or no?”  Jesus’ words are being recorded here, and he is well aware that he must make these words applicable to every generation for thousands of years; his answers are, by necessity, timeless and unlimited in depth, requiring our continued searching and never-ending discovery.  What a blessing that Jesus’ words take deep roots and sprout to immeasurable heights without limitation of context.

Oddly, Jesus’ response to the request of the disciples evolves into an analogy describing a slave’s relationship to the master.  That term “slave” jars us with its negative connotations in our country’s history.  But setting that aside, Jesus is speaking in the context of relationship.

Jesus declared himself a slave to all; Jesus sets the model for our faith on this principle.  We have faith in Jesus Christ; our desires and way of life are to reflect the faith of Jesus Christ.  Jesus asks us for just that tiny seed of faith, which, entrusted to the power of the Holy Spirit, miraculously matures into the faith of Christ – spreading, multiplying throughout the earth.  Thus, we are servants of the faith of Christ.

God is faithful to us, not because we are good, but because he is so good; our faith is God’s gift.  When someone gives us a gift, do we expect them to thank us for untying the ribbon and tearing away the wrapping and being blessed by the contents of the package?  I think not.  Our faith is God’s gift; how could we expect God to thank us for our faith when it is God who gives the increase.

Today, we honor St. Francis of Assisi whose feast day falls each year on October 4.  Franciscans are different from many of holy orders because they are called to live in society, bringing their ministry within the people, rather than living apart in relative seclusion as do more traditional holy orders.  We attribute the words of our well-loved hymn (593) to St. Francis of Assisi:  Lord, make us servants of your peace.

The prayer that is the source of the hymn is found of page 833 of the BCP.   The prayer as recorded here replaces the word “servants” with “instruments”; other sources use the term “vessels.”  As slaves or servants to the faith of Christ, we are instruments or vessels.  When we are slaves to the peace of Christ, quite naturally we sow love, forgiveness, faith, hope, light, and joy – fruits of our servanthood to the faith of Christ as listed here in the prayer attributed to St. Francis.

Jesus asks us for just that tiny seed of faith, which, entrusted to the power of the Holy Spirit, miraculously matures into the faith of Christ – spreading, multiplying throughout the earth.  We are servants of the faith of Christ.

The Apostle Paul exhorts his dear friend Timothy, “Guard the good treasure entrusted to you, with the help of the Holy Spirit living in us.”  It is the Holy Spirit living in us, rather than any human effort, that is the source of our faith.  As slaves, entrusted with the good treasure, we are the sowers of the seed; we are called to live into the faith of Christ, seeking to be mirrors of that faith.  God gives the increase.

Remembering that the seeds we sow will impact the generations to come, what seeds of faith are you planting; and, are you trusting God to provide the increase?

Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28 Psalm 14 1 Timothy 1:12-17 Luke 15:1-10

Many years ago, on a Saturday afternoon in WT Grant’s department store in Great Bridge, I was tottering along beside the camel colored coattail, just at my eye level, of a woman I thought to be my mother.  Perhaps the woman spoke; something caused me to strain to look up; and, it was at that moment that I realized I was following the wrong camel colored coattail.  This woman was not my mother.  I WAS LOST.

Surely, it was only mere moments before I heard my mother call my name and I was reunited with the correct coattail of the coat being worn by my mother.  But, I will never forget that frightening sensation.  The WT Grant store has long been replaced by other businesses, but I believe that, even today, I could find my way to the very same spot inside the existing building where I stood paralyzed by fear.  Even after so many years have passed, the intensity of the fear of being lost remains.

Being lost is an experience all of us have had, I assume. We teach our children that as soon as they realize they have been separated from us in a crowd, they and we should return to the location where we were last together.  The greatest comfort, sometimes the only comfort, to being lost is the knowledge that someone who loves and cares for us will be missing us and, eventually, will begin to search for us.

Every year as we commemorate 9/11 and listen to the broadcast of remembrances, I am struck boldly by the thought that the reason we know the total number and the names of each person who died that fatal day eighteen years ago is, in every case, someone knew that person by name, loved and cared for that person, missed that person, and came searching for that person – a person who, in too many cases, could not respond to the calls of rescuers. Yet, they are never truly lost because someone loves them and keeps each memory alive.

Loss seems to be the theme of our Gospel lesson.  Jesus is challenged by his adversaries, the Pharisees and the scribes, who are incensed that those beyond the fringes of their traditional circle would be considered redeemable through God’s mercy.  Our text tells us that the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling. We can hear them saying, “Imagine those lost sinners being worthy of redemption by God.  And tax collectors – they collude with the Roman authorities to extort money from our own Jewish community.  Surely, there is no redemption for those lost souls.  What does this Jesus mean to accomplish by this madness?”  

But, with these parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin, Jesus shatters the elitist boundaries of the Pharisees and the scribes – who considered themselves the gate keepers – themselves the ones who determined who was in and who was out – who was lost and who was found.   Jesus is emphasizing God’s unrelenting drive to search out and redeem any who are lost – not just those within the boundaries prescribed by these religious leaders.

Two thousand years later, we, too, should take heed of the boundaries prescribed by religious institutions of all faith traditions.  We should be vigilant constantly of the many ways we set elitist boundaries that transmit unwelcoming messages to those who have lost their way and are in most need of being found.

You see, the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin are not about our searching, but about our being found – and, not just being found, but fully redeemed by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Fully redeemed, even though, time and again, we stray from the path and follow the wrong coattail.  Fully redeemed, as our Lord beckons us to return to the place where we last were present with him.  Fully redeemed, by the Lord who came to earth for this purpose – a Lord who seeks each and every one of us, calling us by name, never relenting in his efforts to bring us home to him.

The Apostle Paul expresses this gift of grace in this portion of his first letter to Timothy that we read this morning.

Today, on Welcome Back Sunday, we focus on and celebrate the mission and ministry of our Lord through the Church of the Advent.  We gathered yesterday to trim shrubbery and clean the yard, and to pull weeds and grass from the memorial garden.  We gathered yesterday as we do today because this is our sheepfold where we are known by name and embraced by one another in the love of Jesus Christ.  When any one of us is hurting or lost, we should know that someone in the sheepfold is searching for us.  As the Body of Christ, our mission is to search out and bring back to the fold any who have wandered astray.

Our mission in this community is of vital importance – incredibly significant in the hundreds of lives we touch through our ministries – hundreds of lost sheep we bring into the fold one by one in the name of Jesus Christ.

The parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin are not about our seeking, but our being sought by the Good Shepherd who never ceases to reach out to us when we lose our way.  He calls each of us by name, and when he hears our voice in reply – when He sees that we recognize that we have been found – He gathers His entire kingdom with great celebration.  “Rejoice with me.” Our Lord says.  “Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.”

Jeremiah 18:1-11 Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17 Philemon 1-21 Luke 14:25-33

If ever there is a group that is in tune to the cost of discipleship, it is this group.  Our presence here is enough in itself to affirm our discernment of the cost of discipleship.

Something I strive to do at least once whenever I visit Chanco is to walk down to the waterfront.  The climb is steep.  Going down, one must be very careful not to slip on the rocks.  Climbing back up gives you a real sense of your physical stamina.  Was it this steep going down?

So, I made this journey yesterday.  The scene on the river was different than usual.  A seasoned coast lander recognizes the evidence of a recent violent storm:  washed away areas of shoreline; the river littered with the residue of the churned-up riverbed and flooded banks – rotten logs and battered pieces of decking riding the tide; a diverse assortment along the sand – a thermos cap, a candle, a chunk of vinyl siding residing as if natural amongst the driftwood and sea grasses.  It’s trashy and ugly and disrupts my sought-after tranquility.  Where did it come from and why is it here?  And, the river laps on the bank with greater force – bang, splash, bang, splash, bang, splash – from an imperceptible source.  It is like heavy breathing after my walk up the hill –

IN—HALE…EX—HALE

The river bearing the cost of the storm.

The tides will ebb and flow; the debris will bury itself once again in the mucky bottom; peace will come again to the river surface.

Jesus said, “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.  Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.”

Is our presence here a sign that we hate our families?

Eugene Peterson’s contemporary translation in The Message seems to get the meaning of our text, at least somewhat, more accurately, than our traditional New Revised Standard Version: “Anyone who comes to me but refuses to let go of father, mother, spouse, children, brothers, sisters – yes, even one’s own self! – can’t be my disciple.  Anyone who won’t shoulder his own cross and follow behind me can’t be my disciple.” [Luke 14:25-27].  You see, the choice is ours.

This interpretation does soften the tone a bit.  But, without doubt, Jesus is not mincing words about the cost of discipleship.  Jesus speaks to us of the most treasured of our beloved human relationships, and he says to us in no uncertain terms, that our love and commitment to Him must be even greater and stronger than our love and commitment to beloved family members; the cost of true discipleship is unmatched by the cost associated with any human earthly relationship that we can imagine.  This cost is exceeded only by its reward.

Jesus’ message is that we have to go all the way; we have to follow him to Jerusalem and we have to stand in the shadow of the Cross; we have to shoulder that cross; we cannot hold back, waiting in safety outside the city walls.  The violent storm of discipleship churns us and tosses our divergent pile of debris upon the shore.  We cannot hold back in our responsibility to bear that cross – to carry the Gospel message to the world; we cannot hold back in the ministry to which he is calling each of us – even when it gets trashy and ugly.

We likely will not be bludgeoned by a fuller’s club, or crucified upside down, or sawn in two, but we do understand, better than many, the costs of our call to ministry.

The six of you have made the choice; you have said yes; you have discovered that you cannot hold back on the ministry to which you are being called.  You cannot stand outside the city wall, gazing from afar at the Cross; you must shoulder it and move forward.

We, your potential flock, pray for our mindfulness of God’s presence as we cast our votes two weeks from now.  Whatever the outcome, you will be changed; your call to discipleship will be changed.  Far from hating your spouses and other family members, you will love them even more; they are steady companions, not standing in your way out of concern for their needs, but supporting you and nurturing your ministry, united in this call to discipleship to which they, too, are called.  They share with you the weight of that cross.

You will bear the cost just as the river bears the cost of its call to be a river.

Surely, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s most famous words are, “When Christ calls a man he bids him come and die.”  As Christ calls any of us, He bids us come and die.  Like a seed planted in the earth, we lose all semblance of our old self-absorbed selves as we grow in God ‘s nurturance toward healthy productive disciples.

The earthly cost is great, often severe.  We recognize that each of you – candidate and spouse – is willing to risk that cost on behalf of the people of this diocese – willing to be churned and tossed upon the shore.

As we sing in that beautiful hymn of those humble fisherfolk who laid down their nets to follow Jesus’ call, the reward is the marvelous peace of God.  The river will continue to ebb and flow; your ministry will ebb and flow.  But, for always, you have chosen the way of the cross – the highest joy.

Bishop Walkabouts – Chanco on the James

Jeremiah 1:4-10 Psalm 71:1-6 Hebrews 12:18-29 Luke 13:10-17

Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken let us give thanks, by which we offer to God an acceptable worship with reverence and awe; for indeed our God is a consuming fire.

Imagine yourself as a first century Jewish Christian.  You have been reared as a faithful Hebrew, steeped in the faith tradition that has been handed down through your ancestors – generation after generation, century after century, from the time of creation – God’s chosen people, responsible for the preservation and dissemination of God’s word for their children, and their children’s children, and to you.  For centuries, the earliest of your ancestors handed down these traditions and accounts of the sacred workings of God verbally long before they were written on the scrolls from which you have been taught and can use to teach your children.  How miraculous is that!

Your Hebrew faith is your ethnicity as well as your culture; your Hebrew faith dictates your family life, your daily activity, what and when you may eat, your livelihood, those to whom you may speak in public or private and with whom you may engage in business, certainly those you may marry, and, most of all, your worship practices – your understanding of sacrifice and atonement, your appreciation of when/where/how Holy Days are to be honored and celebrated, your indoctrination into God’s Law and covenant with his people, every specific detail woven into your being as one of God’s children.  Your Hebrew faith encompasses you.

Yet, in your adulthood, there has been a major transformation of the faith.  Jesus of Nazareth, one of Jewish descent as are you, has presented a new Way – a New Covenant – a new understanding of God’s commandments.  In fact, he claims to be the Son of God, the Messiah, foretold by the prophets – the earliest vessels of the word of God.  Early on, you were convinced by the radically new and powerful message of this hometown boy, Jesus.

Despite the contradictions in your own community, you believe that Jesus was and is the Messiah, the Lord and Savior of all.  He took upon himself the sins of the world; he was crucified, and rose again on the third day after his earthly death.  His “sprinkled blood” was the one full, perfect, and complete sacrifice for the atonement of all human sin; he overcame evil and death for your sake and the sake of all – Jew or non-Jew.  This, you believe; you have chosen to follow Jesus.

You are still just as Jewish, but the light of Jesus Christ has reshaped your understanding of God’s intention for his creation in the most radical way.  In Jesus, you have experienced the healing power of God’s love – redemption of sin, the “sprinkled blood” of Jesus Christ as the one full, perfect, and complete sacrifice.  Contrary to the teachings of the Temple priests, there is no human earthly sacrifice that can even be considered in comparison to the sacrifice made by Jesus Christ.

But now, decades have passed since the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ. You’ve been banned from the synagogues and family traditions of your childhood; persecuted religiously, politically, and socially for your beliefs, still considered very radical.  Significant followers of the Way have suffered brutal deaths.  As the first century is nearing its end, you and your fellow Jewish Christians are much in need of encouragement.

And, God hears your cries.  Another persecuted yet faithful believer in Jesus Christ is inspired to compose the letter to you and your fellow Hebrew Christians.  We read in the verses that follow today’s portion of the letter to the Hebrews that this anonymous writer is alarmed by the “drooping hands” and “weak knees” of fellow Hebrew believers.

The writer is inspired to exhort the Hebrews to live into the reality that Jesus Christ reigns superior over the prophets in whom their faith is steeped; Christ is superior over angels, even superior over Moses.  Jesus Christ is superior to the priests ordained as God’s representatives, superior to all earthly human sacrifice.  The New Covenant, instituted by the incarnation of Jesus Christ, is superior to the old.  Believers come with new understanding, in thanksgiving, worshipping God with reverence and awe.

Our Gospel account of Jesus’ healing of the crippled woman in the synagogue on the Sabbath illustrates this radical new understanding that inspires this letter to the Hebrews.  We read from Luke’s Gospel of Jesus’ chastisement by the leaders of the synagogue; this healing on the Sabbath, they contend, is a violation of the Fourth Commandment.  Did Jesus violate the God’s law regarding the keeping of the Sabbath by performing this act of mercy that freed this woman from the bondage of infirmity that had plagued her for eighteen years?  Or, should we say that if a religious rule is keeping us from loving, we’re reading the rule wrong.

Sabbath is a divine gift, as was this gift of healing that Jesus, unsolicited and freely, delivered to this woman in the synagogue.  Accordingly, we understand Sabbath observance is not to be seen as a burden.  Surely, God intends that we honor the Sabbath with worship and praise for God and with rest from our earthly labors.  But, we honor the Sabbath on God’s terms, and we cannot keep this day truly holy if, in complacency or arrogance, we ignore or misuse this gift of Sabbath for purely self-serving purposes.

Keeping the Sabbath, following God’s law, was never intended as a tool for human extploitation and self-serving earthly superiority.  This misuse of the Sabbath – this misuse of the Church as a weapon is truly among the most grievous of sins – setting ourselves up as representatives of Jesus Christ as we arrogantly deny Christ’s healing grace to those who need it the most.  The New Covenant redefines the keeping of Sabbath, and all God’s law, as guidelines for seeking the greater good – opening our souls to the healing grace of God and sharing the joy of salvation by faith in Jesus Christ – the one full and perfect sacrifice – the kingdom that cannot be shaken.

The first century Jewish Christians understood the immensity of this radical new Commandment brought about by the life and works of Jesus Christ.  Yet, as the decades passed, they needed encouragement from fellow believers.

For us 21^stcentury Christians, it is not so different.  The healing power of God’s love is profound.  Together with one another, we receive and share the healing power of God’s love in the kingdom that cannot be shaken.

Isaiah 5:1-7 Psalm 80:1-2, 8-18 Hebrews 11:29-12:2 Luke 12:49-56

           Throughout this church year, St. Luke has been the primary source of our Gospel lessons.  We know Luke to be the advocate for the downtrodden and the outcast.  It is Luke only who tells the tender story of the birth of Jesus through the perspective of his mother Mary.  It is Luke only who brings us the well-known and beloved story of the Good Samaritan.  And, it is from Luke that we learn of Jesus’ bold healing ministry to the widows, the sinful, and the non-Jews.

The writer of Luke, is known for his erudite Greek in which the inspired work was written originally in flowing poetic style.  And, this learned and cultured approach is part of the reason that Biblical scholars agree that the Gospel according to Luke was written during the latter part of the first century by one who was well-educated – possibly a physician.  By this time the writer would have the benefit of 50 or more years to observe outwardly and digest inwardly the impact and meaning of the life, death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ.

Luke’s narrative describes the settings in which Jesus is speaking to the elite of His day on the behalf of those who are beaten down by society.  And, in this way Luke speaks to the elite of the late first century, and to the elite from that time until today.  As possessors of the Good News, we are the privileged elite of today – Luke speaks to US.

We perceive Luke as the advocate for the downtrodden, a gentle and attentive healer.  We treasure the warm feelings of the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and the angels singing of peace on earth to the lowly shepherds.  These are the accounts Luke includes in the beginning of his Gospel – familiar celebratory words we love to hear every Christmas season.

So, when we encounter words such as those in this morning’s Gospel lesson, we feel a little startled and hurt.  “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”

We had a clue of the changing tide for Luke some weeks ago in our lesson that spoke of Jesus’ face being set toward Jerusalem.   We began then to realize that the crucifixion is imminent, drawing near much too quickly.  Luke has moved on from his sweet stories of the Babe in the manger and the young boy teaching in the temple, left behind by his parents.  For today’s lesson at this point in his narrative there is urgency in Luke’s sharp tone.  There is urgency in the need to take a stand – to make a decision – a frighteningly difficult decision.

Jesus speaks of the fire of judgment and the baptism of the Passion that is to come.  He says, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” (NRSV Luke 12:51).   But, the angels had said, “Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men.” We read it at Christmas; it’s right back here in Chapter 2.

To better understand the message, it helps to consider the difference between purpose and result.   Remember, by the time these words are recorded, Luke has had 50 years to digest the results of Jesus’ life and works, death and resurrection.  Was it Jesus’ purpose to bring division to the earth or was the division rather the inevitable result brought about by Jesus’ confrontation with the evil of the world?  How often as parents do we bring division to our households – not as a purpose of our actions but the result of our actions taken in the interest of safety, discipline, and a healthier future – the necessary result, we would hope, on the road to true familial peace?  How difficult is it in this incredible summer heat to root out the weeds from our flowerbeds without damaging or destroying the flowering plants that are blooming along side with roots intermingled?

For the people of Jesus’ time, Caesar Augustus had brought a peace of sorts.  His peace was known as Pax Romana– the Latin phrase for Roman Peace.  Pax Romana is considered to have existed from the time Caesar Augustus became emperor in 27 BC and continued under his succeeding emperors until 180 AD.  Pax Romana was an enforced peace – peace at all cost that established social order and ended the aggressive Roman invasions.  It was also a peace that defied any degree of unrest or dissent expressed toward the current Roman emperor.  The Pax Romana was a frustration to Roman soldiers who felt that peace could exist only when Rome had conquered the entire known world.  To Jews and Christians of this time period who worshiped the one God, the Pax Romana posed a grave threat when politics forced them to choose whom they would worship publicly as their ruler.

So, then, for many of these first century followers to whom Jesus is speaking, choosing to follow Jesus meant severe persecution, often death by political authorities or out casting by families and religious leaders.

Even today, as we take our religious freedoms for granted, making the decision to unite ourselves with Jesus Christ is not always peaceful.  It often involves defying the current rulers of our lives.  It can be a fearful decision.  Daily, we learn of God’s people losing their lives as they pursue their mission in war-torn areas of the world and violence riddled areas of our country.  Too often, the decision to follow Christ’s call leads to earthly death on the road to peace.

Few of us will face this extent of danger.  What is it that we have to fear from our union with Christ?  Would it mean giving up a vice that brings us great pleasure, being led by God’s will into an uncertain mission field or seemingly frightening ministry, or being divided from earthly things to which we feel a need to cling – maybe even family members or friends.

Our Christian journey is filled with uncertainty.  The deeper we delve into our faith, the more questions confront us.  Yes, our Holy Scriptures have answers, but mostly the scriptures promote even more questions.  If this were not so, we would read our instruction manual, consider ourselves knowledgeable of all there is to know about following Jesus Christ, put the book aside, consider our faith journey complete, and not give it another thought. Jesus Christ came to earth to cause us to confront our ambiguities – to question, to find little answers, to question some more, to keep searching, to keep seeking his guidance.

Yes, in our decisions there will be division, maybe even danger, but the end is peace – not an enforced earthly peace that squashes the division, but true peace.  The writer of Hebrews speaks of the pain of discipline and the peaceful fruit of righteousness that is the result.  Luke implores us to heed his sense of urgency – to not be dragged before the judge unprepared; to carry with us the words from Hebrews, “Lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely and run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” [NRSV Hebrews 12:1] – looking to Jesus for the true peace that passes all understanding.

Acts 9:36-43 Revelation 7:9-17 John 10:22-30 Psalm 23

Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.”

The setting of our Gospel lesson is the Temple.  This conversation between Jesus and “the Jews” is quite heated.  Remember that the writer of John is angry and frustrated with his fellow Jews for their lack of belief in Jesus and for their persecution of the followers of Jesus. His anger pervades his writing and we shouldn’t see this as grounds for anti-Semitism.  Rather, we use these writings as a mirror to look at our own misconceptions and actions that inhibit the Christian message.

Historically, God’s people have seen the Temple as the place where God lived.  From near and far, they would make pilgrimage to Jerusalem, preferably yearly, to worship and bring their appropriate sacrifice to the Temple.  From their time of their sojourn through the wilderness after their exodus from Egypt, God had resided in a tangible place – the Ark of the Covenant – a large box containing the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments, a jar of manna, and Aaron’s rod.  The people carried the ark through the wilderness.  Many years later when King Solomon constructed the great Temple, the Ark was placed in the Holy of Holies.  Finally, God had a house.

But, Jesus’ message is that God does not live in a physical house built of mortar and stone.  Jesus’ message is that God’s laws are not in a box, maintained there for the purpose of strict obedience to tangible earthly rules.

Jesus’ message is that God lives in him – Jesus the Messiah – and that his laws are guidance in the ways his people are to live in relationship with one another.  This clarity of God’s law – this new interpretation is something that those charged with policing Jewish laws and traditions find it difficult to accept.  For some of these religious leaders, God was a god of harsh judgment who needed these leaders to enforce his brutal authority. All faith traditions have leaders such as these, even today.  And, too often, we see our selves in relation to God’s harsh judgment rather than unconditional love.

Jesus is asking these leaders – these “religious police” to believe that he, Jesus of Nazareth, and the Father God are one – that God lives in Jesus rather than this earthly Temple.  Jesus knew that it was difficult for them to believe.

The imagery of the Good Shepherd would be something to which the inhabitants of this culture could relate.  Jesus uses this imagery to emphasize their failure to believe the evidence that had been presented to them throughout his ministry.

This 4^thSunday of Easter is Good Shepherd Sunday. Each year on this Sunday our focus is on the Good Shepherd imagery.  On this Good Shepherd Sunday especially, I invite you to take time before you leave today to stand before the Good Shepherd Window that for too much of the time rests in the dark recess of our parish hall.  Much unappreciated, the window dates back to the very early years of the history of this parish.  Stand there and imagine a face-to-face conversation with Jesus, the Good Shepherd. What variety of emotions do you experience – perhaps a balance of both senses of compassion and discipline.

Stand there and reflect on your relationship with Jesus and the emotions that well up from your connection with that image.

There are numerous bits of symbolism expressed by the Good Shepherd.  The imagery of the 23^rdPsalm is endless and we could spend hours exploring the symbolism.

This image of the Good Shepherd was particularly important to the first century Christians – particularly import to the original disciples as they were struggling to understand their call to take up the cross of Jesus Christ in the days following the Crucifixion and Resurrection.  Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.”  When we are buried, our loved ones will hear the words of the opening anthems, “I myself shall see and my eyes behold him who is my friend and not a stranger.”

As we struggle to take up the cross of the Risen Christ, it is imperative that we delve into these scripture lessons assigned to Eastertide. These words from our Gospel lessons, from the Acts of the Apostles, and from the Revelation to John, provide our foundations for how we are to be the Church – how we are to carry on as did these earliest disciples.

There would be doubts, Jesus warned, as we read two weeks ago. In response to Thomas’ doubts that Jesus had indeed risen from the dead and returned to the disciples as he had promised, Jesus alerts the disciples that it will be up to them to address the doubts that seek to confound the continuation of the Christian mission.  Generation after generation would be called to believe even though they had not seen.  Seeds of the Good News must be sown deeply and widely – bravely.  We are now the disciples who must sow those seeds and nurture the harvest with God’s guidance.

The seeds of that message are that none is lost.  Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice…they will never perish.  No one will snatch them out of my hand.”   All are redeemed by the grace of the blood of Jesus Christ through faith.  Even Peter, who denied Christ in the chaos on the road to the Cross was redeemed; we read today of his furtherance of the mission as an apostle of Jesus Christ.  Even Paul, who was the most zealous murderer of those who sought the Way was redirected to become the most zealous of apostles; even each one of us and all of creation are redeemable.

Our most beloved, most familiar Psalm 23 set to words long before the birth of Jesus, is clearly a window of understanding into the foundations of our Christian faith.  “Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”  God’s guidance and protection are ever-present; God’s judgment is real; we abide by God’s law because we know we are loved unconditionally by God and because we love God – as sheep knowing the voice of their loving shepherd, respond in love, trusting his commands.  As our faith deepens, we better understand our need to be guided by God’s rod and staff.

Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.”

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow all our days as we dwell in the house of the Lord forever.