Message Archive

Isaiah 25:6-9, Psalm 24, Revelation 21:1-6a, John 11:32-44

Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

This prayer is a portion of our collect for All Saints’, which we read as our worship began this morning in celebration of the major feast of All Saints’. Traditionally, on this day we remember all saints and all loved ones – all souls – who have gone before us.  I’m not sure where to draw the line between saints and loved ones; I’m not sure there is a dividing line between saints and loved ones.

Early on in seminary, liturgics professors alert postulants toward Holy Orders that we should memorize the Commendatory Prayer, for which we are called upon to pray, often quite unexpectantly, at the time of death:

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant N.  Acknowledge, we humble beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming.  Receive him/her into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.  Amen

The glorious company of the saints in light… What is it to be in that glorious company of the saints in light?  Who is there? And, how do we get there?

The answer to all three questions is the same: Love.

What is it to be in that glorious company of the saints in light?  It is Love.

Who is there?  Love.

How do we get there?  Love

Can we earn our way there?  No.

No, we cannot earn our way to the communion of saints.  We cannot earn God’s love; we rejoice and are glad in his salvation, but we do not earn it.

We are loved by God from before we were formed in our mothers’ wombs.  We come into this life loved by God.  We do not earn the love that is already ours – the love that grants us our place within “the glorious company of the saints in light.”  We cannot earn it because we already have it.  We cannot earn God’s love.  Fortunately, we do not have to earn it.

Finding our place within the communion of saints means not earning God’s love, but accepting God’s free gift of love and returning that love.  We cannot earn God’s love, but we are called to return it.

If we believe, as Mary and Martha believed, we will see the glory of God.  Jesus will roll away the stone that blocks our hearts from experiencing the glorious company of the saints in light.  If we believe, as did the saints in light who walked this earth before us, the love that is ours through God’s grace will be unbound as the restored body of Lazarus was unbound and returned to service in the name of Jesus Christ.

Returning God’s love through our mission and ministry of sharing the Good News of Christ, feeding those who are hungry in body and soul, we experience God in Jesus Christ among us, dwelling with us, his people in our ordinary daily lives. We are renewed in our faith that God, as he has promised, will wipe away every tear in communion with the saints in light where death is no more, neither mourning, nor crying, nor pain.

When we return God’s love, we share with the saints in light that feast of rich food and well-aged wines.

When we return God’s love, we welcome the stranger, even when he smells bad and has dirty hands and looks very different from us.  We welcome the stranger, even when she is expensively-dressed, bejeweled, and perfumed, and seeming quite aloof and unapproachable.  We return God’s love in genuine hospitality.

When we return God’s love, we pray for those we hate or who hate us; praying that through the love of Christ, the stone will be rolled away; praying that we might see the brokenness of the relationship as God sees it; praying with patience and perseverance that the relationship will be restored in God’s way, in God’s time as we await his guidance into that blessed light of the communion of saints.

When we return God’s love, we rise from the tomb of death and the grave, we experience God’s home among all mortals – God’s constant presence with us, and we recommit ourselves to his mission.  We are all called to mission in our daily lives, called to return God’s love in seemingly ordinary ways.

We cannot earn our place among the saints in light; it is our gift as God’s beloved children.  But, to experience here and now that glorious company of the saints in light requires our returning that gift of God’s love, removing the stone that inhibits our faith in God’s promise, tearing away the wrappings that blind our eyes to his call to us, returning that gift of God’s love in the full awareness that God himself is with us.

‘Jesus said to Martha, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So, they took away the stone.’

Job 38:1-7, (34-41) Psalm 104:1-9, 25, 37b Hebrews 5:1-10 Mark 10:35-45

Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant.

Mark 10:43

The disciples James and John of Zebedee imagine themselves in the Kingdom of God, seated in greatness at the right and left of the throne of glory – the throne inhabited by Jesus, their earthly leader and teacher whom they followed and adored. The brothers are riding high in their self-importance; they think they’ve got whatever it takes; they wish to share in the glory and adoration of the everlasting kingdom, seated one at the right and one at the left of Jesus.

Jesus’ response is bewildering, though not uncommon that Jesus would answer a question with a question. James and John are speaking of a throne, and Jesus, enigmatically, begins speaking of a cup and baptism. “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” [Mark 10:38]

The cup – surely that is the cup that we read of in Psalm 23… the cup that runneth over with joy and salvation? And, the Baptism. Is that the baptism where the voice of God came from heaven as Jesus came up out of the water of the River Jordan and the Holy Spirit descended in the dove? A quite magnificent and inspiring show of God’s power and glory. Yes, that’s the baptism we each imagine for ourselves. James and John are truly star-struck at the thought of it all.

We shake our heads and sneer as did the other ten disciples at the arrogance of James and John.

And, yet, isn’t it true that we enter into our life with Jesus Christ with the similar unrealistic expectations as did James and John – expectations of grand seats of honor, expectations of our cup ever-overflowing with the joy of our salvation? And, don’t we mostly expect our baptism to promise us a life of magnificence in the awesome presence of the Holy Spirit? Certainly, we have this expectation for the Church, the Body of Christ, which we share.

So why is it that life is so hard? Why is it that following Jesus Christ doesn’t always feel like an overflowing cup of joy? Perhaps even James and John have begun to recognize the difficulties of discipleship; perhaps their show of bravado is actually a show of desperation in seeking some assurance of glorious rewards and security upon the completion of their earthly discipleship.

Life is hard as we work toward full acceptance of the life of sacrifice of self for others. Life is hard as we accept the transformation into servanthood that discipleship demands. Self-sacrifice as a disciple of Jesus Christ is a life of service that lives into the unfolding of the reign of God. We, the Church, are after all, a human relationship; we are sinners seeking to serve one another to the glory of Jesus Christ. We are sinners in need of one another’s grace and mercy; that doesn’t change just because we walk in through these doors.

So, it seems this cup of which Jesus speaks is the cup described in other psalms and in the ominous words of the prophets – the cup of woe and suffering – the cup that Jesus pleads with the Father to remove from him in the garden just hours before the Crucifixion. This is the cup from which we commit to drink as followers of Jesus Christ.

In their euphoric and idealistic state, James and John are not considering this more ominous image of the cup – the cup that would be “poured out for many” – the cup of the blood of Christ. James and John do not yet understand this connotation of the cup; neither do they understand the full expanded meaning of baptism – the going down to death in the grave, the overcoming of death, and the emerging to life again.

The cup of which Jesus was to drink would be the cup of condemnation, humiliation, and death; his life a ransom for many. If we are to follow Jesus, we too drink of this cup. Jesus’ baptism, like our baptism, is symbolic of that death. We die that death to our old selves, but as we are brought up out of the waters of our baptism, we are assured of our everlasting salvation in our new life in Christ – a life of self-sacrificing servanthood, not as an end in itself, but a life with Christ that unfolds for ALL the reign of God.

Jesus’ disciples were to drink of the cup of which Jesus would drink and be baptized in his baptism. Each disciple would become infamous in greatness by becoming a servant to all, martyred for that servanthood.
But, even Jesus himself could not grant James and John the honor of being seated at his right and his left in his moment of greatest glory. In one of the greatest of all ironies, it would be two bandits mocking Jesus as he hung bleeding and dying on the cross who would be forever seared in our memory as those granted the honor of being at the right and left hand of Christ – the cup poured out for all.

Whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.

Mark 10:44

Proverbs 1:20-33, The Wisdom of Solomon 7:26-8:1, James 3:1-12, Mark 8:27-38

After more than a week of “storm vigil”: preparations, alterations, and evacuations; fear for what might come; ongoing news coverage of storm-ravaged homes and neighborhoods; most tragic loss of life; heart-breaking damage to centuries-old buildings and landscapes, perhaps washed away forever; rain, rain, rain and dizzying wind, we can close our eyes and feel ourselves swirling in that mesmerizing iconic symbol that we dread to see on our weather maps.

So, we ask, why does God allow hurricanes?

I cannot answer that question directly.  No one can for now; someday we will all understand. I can say without reservation that tragedies – whether or not they are “caused” or “allowed” by God – are necessary to our humanity.  What kind of people would we be without crises and tragedies that unite us as creatures of God, events that turn our lives around in mere seconds and cause us to redefine our priorities, events that remind us of our humility in the arms of our loving God?

In the raging floodwaters of Eastern North Carolina at this moment, there are no designations of race or gender or age or social status, or even whether one is human or animal.  There, in that raging floodwater and swirling wind, are thousands who have come for the specific purpose of saving lives and relieving suffering. Without tragedies, I’m not sure we’d ever be so drawn to delve into the depths of our humanity and what really matters.  So, rather than question why tragedies occur, perhaps our time is better spent asking, “What if tragedies didn’t occur?”  “What kind of people would we be?”  And, we’d have to agree that tragedies are necessities to our faith journey.

Our Gospel lesson for today is one of multiple necessities. As we have reaffirmed in our studies over the past weeks, it was necessary that Jesus be recognized and identified as the Messiah– not as a prophetic teacher and flamboyant miracle worker, not just by the audience that surrounded him, but also by all who would come after his time on earth.  Today, it is necessary that we recognize and profess Jesus Christ as the Messiah – God, incarnate in the human person of Jesus Christ, who came to give humanity a clear vision of God’s intended salvation for all creation. As it is for us and as it has always been for God’s fallen creatures, the raging floodwaters and swirling wind make it difficult to understand a God who created us and wants only what is best for us.  It was necessary for Jesus to be born human, to live on earth as we live, to save us and show us the reality of that salvation.

And, as Jesus makes clear to Peter, it was necessary that Jesus be crucified, to die on earth as we die.  Our words in today’s lesson leave out the significant phrase from the original Greek passage in which we read “it is necessary that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering … and be killed, and after three days rise again.”

Mark uses dramatic language to describe Jesus’ most stunning rebuke of Peter in response to Peter’s admonition of this statement. Whatever Mark’s purpose, this dramatic language accentuates the importance of the message; it gets our attention; and it arouses our need to understand:  Satan lurks, continuously, relentlessly striving to separate us from God, as he did Peter – to frighten us into selling our souls to him in exchange for shallow and enticing earthly temptations. Satan stands over us, instilling fear that causes us to shut ourselves away in our comfort zones, away from the storms of true discipleship rather than to take the risk of committing our selves to the mission and ministry of launching our boats into the floodwaters and seeking God’s guidance and nurturance through faith in his providence.  Satan offers us the false comfort of secreting away our faith, locking it deep in our hearts out of fear of ridicule or exploitation or death or of the unknown territory into which discipleship might call us.

Thus, Satan rushes into action, possessing Peter with fear and doubt as Jesus “began to teach them that it is necessary that the Son of Man suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be put to death.”  Likely, Peter, paralyzed with fear, never heard the closing “and after three days rise again.

In order for the divine agency of God’s plan to unfold, in order for all earthly creation to be redeemed, it would be necessary for God in the person of Jesus to lose all that was earthly and temporary in order to gain all that is heavenly and eternal.

It is necessary – this is a fact that Satan seeks to keep Peter and all of us who follow Christ from understanding.  Satan seeks to limit God’s message of salvation for all through Jesus Christ by distracting us from our mission of launching our boats into the swirling floodwaters.  Satan holds in front of us the fear of the cost of discipleship.  Satan distorts our comprehension of that that is necessary.

But, Jesus stands between us and Satan.  With nail-scarred hands, Jesus guides our focus to those things that are divine, redeeming us with his body and blood, offering eternal life that well justifies the cost of our discipleship.

It is necessary that we recognize Jesus Christ as the Messiah; this is Jesus the Christ who comes to us in the glory of His Father and the holy angels. It was necessary that the Messiah would undergo great suffering, die, and rise again; in so doing, death was overcome, all creation is redeemed, and we receive the promise of everlasting life.  As true disciples, it is necessary that we take up our cross and follow Jesus into whatever floodwaters that might lead.

For, from his earthly death, Jesus rose again, redeeming us through triumph over the human evil that brought about his earthly death, overcoming death itself forever.  And, as Jesus rose again, so shall we rise in eternal life.

I can’t answer the question, “Does God cause hurricanes?” But, I can answer the question, “Does God, through the life of great suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, cause everlasting life?”  That’s a yes; it was necessary.

Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23 Psalm 125 James 2:1-10, [11-13], 14-17 Mark 7:24-37

Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion,
which cannot be moved, but stands fast for ever.
[Psalm 125:1 NRSV]

It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs – we, the Gentiles, being the “dogs.” This is not a despicable political tweet; this is Jesus, our Lord, speaking these words.

Before we move to the Gospel message in today’s lesson; let’s first grapple with these words spoken by Jesus to the Syrophoenician mother of a demon-possessed child. She was not only a non-Jew – a Gentile, categorized as a non-believer; she was a woman and, even worse, a foreigner in a pagan land. Culture sanctioned the cruel discriminatory response to her plea for help that Jesus appears to deem appropriate.

Why would Jesus express himself in this exclusionist attitude as revealed to us in Mark’s Gospel? I don’t know for sure. Certainly, there have been tomes of commentary written on this encounter with the Syrophoenician woman suggesting a variety of explanations for these harsh words. But, I do know that these stark words and this brave woman’s audacity make this point far better than if Jesus had merely quietly answered her request to heal her daughter as we would expect. Had Jesus not responded in such a remarkable way, we would read the sweet healing account as we read other healing accounts, and move on. Yet, rather than quietly passing off another example of Jesus’ compassionate healing, we find ourselves coming up off our seats to say, “Hey, wait a minute! You can’t talk to this woman this way. Her daughter deserves healing just like anyone else.” Jesus quite successfully get our attention.

I can imagine standing here before you and suggesting we need to give up on trying to feed the hungry in our community. “It just takes too much effort,” I might argue. My hope is that you again would come up off your seat and shout, “What are you saying; why are we here if we are not willing to dig deeper and work harder each day to meet the needs of those less fortunate? Of course, we have to continue that effort. Jesus said, ‘Feed my sheep.’” Perhaps Jesus is using similar psychology to rally the troops toward their true cause without having to use words in an effort to encourage and to explain the evolution of their ministry.

Some followers would turn away after this episode of reaching outside Jewish boundaries. Whether this was a turning point in Jesus’ own understanding of his mission, remains for each of us to discern. Without doubt, it is the turning point for the mission itself and those who continue to follow. The mission would no longer be perceived as excluding those beyond the Jewish faith.

It would be this brave Syrophoenician woman who becomes the focus of this turning point. This brave Syrophoenician woman stands her ground – though a Gentile female, she recognized that there is no stronger ground than faith in Jesus Christ. Not even Jesus himself could dissuade her. Regardless of her diminished value as a woman and as a Gentile, she had heard the Gospel message. She believed and she was not turning back. She was a mother, desperate to find healing for her child; and she was a follower of Jesus Christ who did not doubt his power to heal. She was bold in her faith; through that faith, her daughter was healed.

Like the deaf mute of the second portion of our lesson, even Jesus’ closest followers could not hear and speak this essential aspect of their mission. Jesus’ actions opened their ears and voices to this reality much as he opened the ears of the deaf man – much as the boldness of this determined mother opens our ears to the reality of our call to believe in the healing power of Jesus Christ, and boldly, to speak and carry that message to all. What earthly image can better define boldness than a mother’s desperate plea for her child’s healing?

Never again would Jesus contradict the message of God’s redemption for all. Boldly, Jesus would carry out this earthly mission to which he had been called.

As I conclude the sermon, Omar’s family will come forward to present him for Holy Baptism into the healing grace of the Body of Christ; Omar will be marked as Christ’s own forever. We, boldly, will stand with Omar and his family; we, boldly, will pledge before God to support Omar in his life in Christ. We, boldly, will renew our own baptismal covenant to continue in the teaching, the breaking of bread, and the prayers. We, boldly, will pledge to resist evil and, as necessary, repent and return to the Lord. We, boldly, will commit to proclaim the words of the healing grace of Jesus Christ, serving all persons, and striving for justice and peace.

Then, together, boldly, we will gather to share the Body of Christ, and to go from this place renewed in our commitment for which we are marked forever. Carry with you the bold commitment of this family who presents this child to life in Christ; carry with you the boldness of this desperate first century gentile mother, filled with the power of faith in Jesus Christ, who pushed through all the restraints of tradition and discrimination to find everlasting healing and salvation. Be bold; push through the barriers; believe in the healing power of the love of Jesus Christ.

Baptism of Omar Emilio Betancourt Jordan

1 Kings 8:[1, 6, 10-11], 22-30, 41-43 Psalm 84 Ephesians 6:10-20 John 6:56-69

Jesus’ words are difficult.  As he describes in these words what it is to abide in him, it is hard to get past the physical image that is a little too gory, even for the disciples.  Eugene Peterson interprets Jesus’ words in more contemporary language in The Message; Peterson writes: “By eating my flesh and drinking my blood you enter into me and I into you.  In the same way that the fully alive Father sent me here and I live because of him so the one who makes a meal of me lives because of me.  This is the bread of heaven.”^[1] Flesh and blood are the essence of our physical life.  As we consume the Holy Eucharist, we consume the essence of life in Jesus Christ.

We come together week after week to receive the Holy Communion, we enter into the essence of Jesus Christ as Jesus Christ becomes our essence.  Thus, we speak of Christ abiding in us so that we too may be the essence of Christ in the world.

We are not at all unlike the Israelites struggling through the Wilderness in the years after their Exodus from Egypt. Confronting their daily ordeals of the Wilderness trek, the Israelites needed to experience God abiding in them. Their lives – the purpose of their struggle – was useless without God’s presence; God’s abiding presence was their purpose.

As humans, we often need tangible focal points to help us sense God’s abiding presence.  We need to physical presence of the bread and wine to experience the reality of Christ’s body and blood.  We stand in awe of the Christus Rex here above the altar and the Good Shepherd window in our parish hall; the beauty of sacred music and stirring scripture passages continually inspire us; we sense more profoundly the reality of God abiding in us aided by these tangible elements.  God doesn’t need these tangible elements, but we do.

For the Israelites, God’s presence was tangible in the Ark of the Covenant.  The 25^thchapter of the book of Exodus describes in technical detail the construction of the Ark; these instructions were given to Moses as he met God on Mount Sinai.  Per God’s specific design, the Ark was a chest built of acacia wood covered with gold veneer that the Israelites would carry with them on their sojourn.  From their melted down gold and jewelry, the Israelites were to sculpt angels on each end and attach gold rings through which poles were to be inserted so that the Ark could be transported from place to place by the Levites who were assigned the job of carrying it.  In the Ark, Moses was to place the stone tablets containing God’s covenant with his chosen people.  As nomads on their wilderness journey toward the Promised Land, the Ark would be a continuous visible presence of God – their wilderness altar around which they would pause to gather for worship and the offering of sacrifice.  God’s faithful people would carry God’s presence through the Wilderness.

The Ark would continue with the Israelites as they made their successful habitation of the Promised Land under Joshua’s leadership. It would continue to be their gathering place focal point of worship until it was confiscated by the Philistines in battle.  Centuries later, under the reign of King David, the Ark was restored to Israel; and, as we have read today, upon the successful completion of the Solomon’s Temple, the Ark would find its resting place in the Holy of Holies within the innermost sanctuary of the Lord.  There, God would abide.  We continue to honor that innermost sanctuary as, in this inner sanctuary, we celebrate the presence of God through Jesus Christ in the one holy and perfect sacrifice at the altar of the Lord.

We read in our lesson from 1^stKings that the Ark was laid “underneath the wings of the cherubim.  And when the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the LORD filled the house of the LORD.” [1^stKings 8:6, 10-11 (NRSV)]

From the time of the completion of Solomon’s Temple in 960 BC until its destruction by the Babylonians in 587 BC, the Ark of the Covenant would continue to represent the presence of God among his people.  Scripture indicates that the contents of the Ark were scattered in foreign lands at the time of the Babylonian defeat and exile of the Israelites; there is no evidence of the destination or destruction of the Ark itself; but it seems, in physical terms, it was lost forever.

Yet even in the absence of this physical, tangible focal point so sacred to God’s people, the people of God would come to celebrate the newly discovered reality of God’s ever-abiding presence with them.  God was not destroyed when the Ark was lost; God abided in the Israelites; God abides in us.

Centuries later, God would again provide his earthly physical presence in the flesh and blood of Jesus Christ.  Through this flesh and blood of Jesus Christ, God abides in us and we in God.  We cannot separate the heavenly Jesus who abides in us from the human Jesus who abides through us.  The flesh and blood of Jesus Christ abides through us.

And, like these earliest believers described in our Gospel lesson, when we believe, we come to understand our faith in the presence of Christ in us as not something we posses but something we do.  Jesus abides in us and we in him.  When we believe, there is no separation of faith and works; our faith is our call to mission.

And, if Christ abides in us and we in him, that means Christ abides in the person seated next to you in the pew, in the indigent strangers who beg us for money at the shopping center, in the crying child with snotty nose and sticky hands, in the disconsolate family member, in the cynical and ungrateful co-worker, the disgruntled neighbor.  St. Benedict reminds us that all who come into our hospitality should be received as Christ.

There is the sweet story of the little boy who sets off on his journey to meet God, packing a good supply of potato chips and root beer. At the local park, he encounters an old man feeding the pigeons.  They sit together and share the chips and root beer.  As evening approaches, the little boy gives his new friend a big hug, receives a heart-warming smile, and heads home to report his encounter with God – “He has the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen,” the little boy tells his mother.

Across town the old man arrives home to greet his son with radiant joy.  Asked what he had done for the day that had resulted in such happiness, the old man reports, “I ate potato chips in the park with God.  You know he’s much younger than I expected.”

Too often we fail to acknowledge God’s ever-abiding presence in the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.  Much like the Ark of the Covenant for the Israelites, these are tangible, visible means through which God through Jesus Christ abides in us and through assuring us of his presence.

We cannot separate the heavenly Jesus who abides in us from the human Jesus who abides through us.  This is our call to mission.

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.”  Keep coming to the table.  Keep coming to the table.  Take, eat, believe.

 

^[1]Eugene H. Peterson, The Message – The Bible in Contemporary Language(Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress, 2002) p. 1466.

2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33 Psalm 130 Ephesians 4:25-5:2 John 6:35, 41-51

Be angry, but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil. [Ephesians 4:26-27, NRSV] Anger is often justifiable. Jesus was justifiably angry when he cleared the temple of the moneychangers in Jerusalem.

The writer of the letter to the Ephesians (who was Paul or more likely a very close associate), is warning us that prolonged, unresolved anger, like acid, destroys, not the object to which it is directed, but its vessel from within. Absalom, about whom we read in today’s Old Testament lesson, was an angry young man who made room for the devil, and the story of his relatively short life is filled with chilling irony. Born the third among the six sons of King David who are listed in 2Samuel as being born at Hebron by six different mothers, Absalom is said to have been faultlessly beautiful, without blemish. In addition, and most noteworthy, he possessed a wealth of abundantly luxurious hair – a particularly significant attribute in the culture of the day.

So, as you can imagine, Absalom grew up surrounded by many who idolized and adored him. The effects of growing up in an environment of adoration and prestige had secured a healthy sense of obnoxious superiority within him. And, though the third born, he began to feel a sense of entitlement toward succeeding his father David as king. But, Amnon was oldest; as the years passed, his feelings of resentment toward Amnon, the oldest of his half-brothers, festered. There is no further mention of the second-born son, and it is assumed that this son died young moving Absalom’s position to second in line to the throne in direct conflict with his half-brother Amnon.

Adding to the intrigue, Amnon further enrages Absalom by deceitfully enticing Absalom’s sister Tamar into his chambers. Feigning illness, Amnon had convinced their father David that his only hope for recovery was to be nursed back to health by his stepsister Tamar whom Amnon desired most passionately. As you would guess, her innocence is violated and her life shattered by the ordeal. Fuel is added to the flame of Absalom’s hatred toward his half-brother. And, his resentment toward his father for not taking actions against this brother’s wrongful acts begins to seize his inner being. His anger was justified, and he does use some of the energy gleaned from this anger to comfort and care for his sister, but Paul would say that as time passed, the room he allowed for the devil grew beyond his control.

The story is that Absalom harbors this anger in silence for two years until an opportunity for vengeance presents itself at the annual festival celebrating the year’s first sheep shearing. Upon Absalom’s suggestion, his father King David has remained at home sending Amnon as his representative. Amid the celebration of thanksgiving, Amnon, drunk on the wine and his own seniority, is attacked and slain by Absalom’s servants.

In response, Absalom is banished from court by his father. For five long years, the displaced anger that Absalom had directed toward Amnon is turned to his father David as he is continuously denied an audience with him. Finally, in a childish scheme to attract his father’s attention, Absalom sets fire to the barley field of Joab, David’s trusted general, and gains the audience with the king that he so craves.

But, no sooner does Absalom return to his father’s court than he begins to organize an uprising. David loves his son; he seeks to frustrate his rebellious son and avoid violence, but, despite his efforts to reestablish harmony, a battle ensues and Absalom’s forces are slaughtered. Fleeing the battle, Absalom is caught by the head in the fork of the low-hanging branches of the terebinth tree. In fact, the historian Josephus reports, that it is his much exalted head of hair that becomes entangled in the foliage as his mule continues on, leaving Absalom suspended from the tree limbs – the culmination of anger – deeds of the devil have exceeded all expectations. Coming upon the scene, the words of King David are fresh in the mind of the trusted subordinate Joab regarding David’s wayward son, Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom. But, the warrior Joab, unscrupulously considering what he thinks best for himself and for the king, thrusts three spears into the heart of Absalom.

Upon receiving the news of the death of his rebellious son who had threatened his rule and his life, David is inconsolable. O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom my son, my son! [2Samuel 18:33, NRVS].

Anger when given to the devil wastes our actions and saps our energy, and may even lead to our total earthly destruction; given to God it can bring us closer to a world that is holy and without blemish a world of restorative justice rather than retributive justice.

The great mystic Evelyn Underhill writes:

“The death of personal anger does not mean mere limp acquiescence. But it means getting rid of the psychic hurricanes which always have self at their centre and which dissipate our real strength and in which we cannot be quiet with God. This brooding anger is like the ground swell persisting after a storm; it is not very obvious on the surface but utterly destructive of peace and quiet.”[2]

As Christians filled with the Bread of Life, the world is watching our response to injustice; the world is watching to see how we channel our anger. We are justified in being angry at injustice, but we are the ones who must direct the anger toward healing. We learn from the past; we keep the memories fresh, but we model constructive remembering that brings restorative justice rather than destructive remembering that keeps us mired in the demand for insatiable retribution and reparation and foresees our own destruction as it did for Absalom.

If you are wearing a cross around your neck, be sure the light of Christ shines through your smile. If you sport a “The Episcopal Church welcomes you” bumper sticker, be particularly mindful of good driving etiquette. As representatives of Christ, we bear a huge responsibility to show others what it means to have the Bread of Life – the bread that fills and fulfills. We are called to share the Bread of Life in the most earthly physical sense and in the most heavenly spiritual sense. The world is watching to see if we make room for the devil or if we seek to fill the world with the Bread of Life.

We are to be imitators of God as beloved children, to remember that we are the Church serving Christ in the world, rather than Christians serving the Church. There are times that we are to be angry. Jesus clearly tells us the world is wrong, and, thus, at times our anger is justifiable. Be angry, but make no room for the devil. Fill that room with the Bread of Life, for whoever eats this bread will live forever.

[1]Evelyn Underhill, “Anger,” in Love’s Redeeming Work, ed. Geoffrey Rowell, Kenneth Stevenson and Rowan Williams (New York: Oxford University Press, Inc, 2003) 572-573.

2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a Psalm 51:1-13 Ephesians 4:1-16 John 6:24-35

“…For the bread of God gives life to the world.”

The writer of John’s Gospel continues Jesus’ message of the bread of life – physical bread that nurtures the body, which Jesus has publicly and miraculously delivered to the multitudes; and, more importantly, the spiritual bread from heaven that brings true everlasting life to the soul. Those who receive this bread of life will never again be hungry.

Thus, the crowds seeking to understand this bread of life offered by Jesus are growing magnanimously; their pursuit is relentless.  So much so, that when Jesus is not where the crowds expect him to be, they board boats and cross the sea in a desperate effort to find him.  Was it his magic tricks they were seeking – for entertainment? Or, are they seeking him because they believe that this might be truly the one who is offering the genuine bread of God that gives life to the world – life-giving right- relationship with God and neighbor?

Why would you follow?  Would you be so desperate?  What would you expect of Jesus?

 In contrast to the faithful searching of these early followers of Jesus described in our Gospel lesson, is our Old Testament account from centuries earlier: Jesus’ ancestor King David has come to a very low point in his faith journey.  Neglecting his vows to God, basking in the self-glorification of his kingship to the point of extreme degradation, David has ignored the true bread of God.  As we have followed this saga over the past weeks, we note that this king, specifically and ceremoniously anointed by God to the throne of Israel, has violated major portions of God’s Law.

David surely has not loved and honored God with heart, soul, and mind; he has coveted Uriah’s wife Bathsheba to the point of committing adultery with her and, ultimately, stealing her from her husband.  Then, in a desperate effort to cover his serious transgressions, David has committed murder by orchestrating the death of Uriah in battle, ordering him sent to the front of the greatest fighting while having his fellow soldiers draw back leaving Uriah to be slaughtered. How could someone of such unworthy character committing such horrendous wicked acts ever be forgiven and restored to his relationship with God?

In today’s lesson, we read of the prophet Nathan presenting a parable to the great king.  David, inevitably faced with his own conviction upon his honest interpretation of the parable, confesses with great humility.  David is now desperate to cross that sea to find the true bread. Our Psalm, which we read earlier, expresses this sense of desperation for cleansing.  It is the psalm we read every year as part of our worship on Maundy Thursday; we read it in unison as we strip the altar in preparation for Good Friday.  It is known as the Miserere;it expresses our greatest level of humility and earnest desire for cleansing forgiveness and restoration.  These words of lamentation are credited to David.  “Wash me through and through from my wickedness, and cleanse me from my sin.”  David is said to have written these words in response to this visit from Nathan during which he was forced to confront his undeniable sinfulness. 

David, so very unworthy, came worthily to be restored in his relationship with God and with his people; challenges remain ahead, but David was undoubtedly restored?  

How could David have been restored?  How can we, in response to our undeniable wickedness, be cleansed and restored to God?  What seas must we cross to find the true bread that comes down from heaven?

Too often, our weekly lesson spotlight gives our epistle lesson short shrift.  It is in these letters of Paul to the first churches that we gain so much insight into the restoration of relationships with God and neighbor. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians who were so very torn by divisiveness offers answers to these complicated questions posed by our lessons today.  

First Paul reminds us that we are all called to ministry, exhorting us to lead a life worthy of our calling.  Whether we are telephone repairmen, cab drivers, Bible Study leaders, or passersby on the street, our ministries are equally significant.  We are the Body of Christ, called to bring the message of the living bread to the physically and spiritually hungry, called seek restoration in our relationships with God and neighbor and to be the advocate for restored relationship for others. 

Further, Paul writes, we are to pursue these ministries in the essence of the fruits of the spirit – humility, gentleness, and patience as we bear with one another in love.  Thus, we are bound in unity with God and one another – one body and one Spirit.  “We must no longer be children, tossed to an fro and blown about by every wind.”  We are the Church; we are one body.

With Christ acknowledged as the true head of the body, all our parts work properly and promote growth – building the body up in love.  

We all know what it is when one part of our body does not “work” properly.  [Most of us are grateful it is just one body part not working properly].  When our foot goes numb, we don’t ignore it till it drops off.  We change to a more comfortable position; we shake it and wiggle it until the blood begins to flow again.  We exercise it until it is restored to health.

 When our ankle is broken, we don’t keep trying to walk on it, causing more pain and irreparable injury; we seek to have the bone reset correctly and nurture it with patience until it heals.

If we get a bit of sand in our eye, we know not to keep rubbing it until the eyeball is seriously scratched.  We bathe the eye gently and rest it until the discomfort is gone and our sight is restored.

When we get a taste of something bad, we spit it out, and wash away the bad taste with good clean cool water.  

Each of these examples of improperly working body parts can be applied to the Body of Christ.  Paul is advising the people of Ephesus to seek restoration for the divisiveness in their relationships within the Church. We are wise to heed his advice.

Do we ignore our complacent numbness until a portion of our spiritual life becomes useless?  Do we keep aggravating the brokenness with our dismissive attitudes and unkind treatment of one another until the damage to relationships is irreparable? Or, do we seek to soothe the pain of our differences with patience and gentleness and understanding?  Do we seek to look honestly at those elements that are from evil, eliminate them, and seek God’s guidance to replace them with good – the true bread of God that gives life to the Body?  Even David, after acts of incredible wickedness, was restored and renewed.  Regardless of our depth of unworthiness, we are made worthy in Christ; we come to Christ worthily in humility.  And, with David, we pray:

Create is us a clean heart, O God,

And, renew a right spirit within us.

 

2 Samuel 11:1-15, Psalm 14, Ephesians 3:14-21, John 6:1-21

When they were satisfied, Jesus told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.”

The Feeding of the 5,000 is the only miracle that is recounted in all four Gospels.  The writers of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John all include the miracle with some variation in detail.  In John’s Gospel, it is a small boy who comes with 5 barley loaves and 2 fish – the common, the ordinary stuff of our daily existence brought forward by the humblest of humanity – a small child.  Barley loaves are the food of the poor. [In the Book of Ruth, we read that it was an ephah of barley that Ruth gleaned from the field of Boaz as the result of his gracious generosity to this foreign woman seeking bread for the day.]  Through God’s grace, Jesus received the meager offering of this small child, blessed it, broke it, and fed the multitude.

Matthew, Mark, and Luke refer to this event as a miracle; John, on the other hand, refers to the event as a sign – a signrather than simply a miracle – a sign that Jesus is truly God the Son, the Word made flesh, the Messiah.  Certainly, these signs are tremendously significant to us as affirmation of Jesus as the Divine – God the Son.  As our Lord walked the earth 2000 years ago, these tangible signs were visible to his audience – an audience that could not deny Jesus’ divine presence in human form.

But, as we gather again and again to read and reflect and digest these accounts of the miraculous, it is equally important that we come to understand that we are not separated by 2,000 years from the intended message.  The message is as critical for us in Jesus’ audience today.  We don’t read the account of the Feeding of the 5,000, then put the book away and smile that it is such a sweet story.

We read, we listen, we reflect and digest the message that we are expected to take to the world as we leave this place, fueled for a week of mission and ministry in the World.  What is that message?  What is the sign for us from the Feeding of the 5,000 that we are to gather and share?  How do we experience an event in which a tiny meager offering becomes food for the multitudes?

If you are a teacher, whether formally in the classroom or very informally in any setting, you know what it is to share a seed of knowledge and an appreciation for learning.  The learner takes that seed and casts it upon more fertile soils so that your seemingly tiny effort has been magnified to produce good fruit for many you will never know.

A kind word to a frazzled mother in the grocery store may have the effect of turning her day around, giving her a renewed sense of joy – joy she will share with another frazzled mother who might as the result speak more gently to her husband in regards to leaving the wet towel on the floor, which in turn might diffuse his tendency to an abusive outburst at the dinner table when little Suzy spills her milk – again.  We just never know how far and wide our impact reaches when our actions are blessed by God and shared with those hungry for the Good News.  Conversely, it is frightening to consider the multiplicity of harmful actions precipitated by an initial unkind word inspired by evil.

So, we experience the phenomenon of the Feeding of the 5,000 with all praise to God in untold ways through our mission and ministry. Here at Advent, a less widely acclaimed, yet equally faithful and significant ministry offered to food pantry patrons is the prayer ministry.  Phyllis O’Quinn hangs out her shingle directing anyone in need to seek her out for quiet prayer in the library.  Other volunteers routinely pray with and for those they serve.  

I marvel at the thought of the changed lives – perhaps even the reduced incidences of violence – that are directly precipitated from this ministry.  Have you ever been discriminated against by a potential employer, shunned by a passerby, distrusted by a store clerk, or scrutinized unjustly by a security guard?  Have you been harassed because you couldn’t pay a bill?  Do you carry the deep scars of physical or emotional abuse or assault?  Do you have a physical or mental handicap or a debilitating addiction?  Are you estranged from your family, even you own children?  Have you ever been so beat down that you felt you just couldn’t take it anymore?  And, as the result, have you been so filled with anger that the tiniest thoughtless slip by a stranger would likely send you into a violent raging fit?  

These situations describe those who come seeking the ministry of our food pantry.  Many are marginalized in multiple ways we cannot imagine.  Yes, the food and the clothing bring comfort and sustenance; they are necessities of life.  Jesus fed the multitudes with real physical food, and he instructs us to do the same.  But it is the hundredfold blessing of faithfulness through prayer and compassionate service that changes lives.  A despondent and desperate soul finds a glimmer of hope and carries that hope to another equally in need.  

Bread and fish – meager offerings of the earth, significant, broad-based meaningful symbols – metaphors throughout our faith journey. Meager stuff – the tiniest gesture of love without fear of disappointment, love without expectation of return – the tiniest gesture offered with all glory to God, and multitudes are fed.

Isn’t this what we experience every time we come to the Lord’s Table?  The ordinary bread and wine of our daily existence is sanctified and distributed to the multitude.  Through it we become living members of the Body of Christ and heirs of His eternal kingdom; we are charged to go forth serving Him as faithful witnesses of this miraculous sign that we are instructed to model.  It is we who carry the presence of Jesus Christ to the world, we who are charged to feed the multitudes.

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19  Psalm 24 Ephesians 1:3-14 Mark 6:14-29

The writer of the Gospel of Mark tells us very little about John the Baptizer though he does not stop short of painting a clear concise picture of this righteous and holy man.  It is in Luke’s Gospel that we read the miraculous account of John’s parentage by Zechariah and Elizabeth and the prophesy that he would be filled with the Holy Spirit and that he would “go before (the Messiah) to turn the hearts of the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous.” Later in Luke, we learn that the unborn John leaps in his mother Elizabeth’s womb when Elizabeth is greeted by her cousin Mary, the expectant mother of Jesus.  Thus, John, who would become known as John the Baptizer, recognized Jesus as the Messiah months before either of them was born.  As Mark tells us, truly, John was filled with the Holy Spirit.

It is this John of which we read in Canticle 16 of the BCP, The Song of Zechariah, also from Luke’s Gospel, “You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way.  To give his people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins.” [BCP p. 93]

Our next encounter is with the adult John at the Jordan River where all, Mark says (everything for Mark is immediate and extreme) – where all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him to be baptized with water.  John, we are told, is clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey.  John, for us, is the epitome of humility and the essence of raw uncorrupted creation.   John is a righteous and holy man.

John’s was the voice crying in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” [NRSV Mark 1:3]  Then, we read, that it is John – this humble and unspoiled child of God – towhom Jesus comes to be baptized.  As Mark describes the baptism in Chapter 1, verses 10-11, it is John who “saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on (Jesus) and heard the voice that came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.’” [NRSV]  John was the one to see and recognize the tearing apart of the heavens, which would reoccur at Jesus’ crucifixion.  It is John who promises that the one who is to come will baptize not with water only but with the Holy Spirit.

Typical of Mark to be brief and succinct, only 3 verses after his description of this ecstatic experience, we read simply, “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God.” [NRSV 1:14]  Thus, Jesus’ ministry has begun as John exits the scene with little explanation, not to be heard from again in Mark’s Gospel until the record of his execution by Herod Antipas, the details of which we read in our lesson from Chapter 6 today.

Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great, represents an absolute contrast to John the Baptizer.  In 40 B.C., the controlling Roman Senate had appointed his father, Herod the Great, king of the Jews.  Technically, then, the Herods were Jewish only because these ancestors had been forced to convert to Judaism, Herod the Great was a mixed bag.  To garner the praise of the Jewish people, he had orchestrated the grandiose restoration of the Jerusalem temple originally built by Solomon.  Upon hearing rumors of the birth of the Messiah, the ruthless Herod the Great slaughtered the children of Bethlehem to eliminate their threat to his kingship.  And, it was this Herod before whom Jesus stood in silence in the hours before his crucifixion.

At the death of Herod the Great, his kingdom was divided among three of his sons as settlement of the heated dispute over their inheritance.  Herod Antipas was granted one-fourth of his father’s kingdom, the tetrarchy of Galilee and Perea. Thus, Jesus and John the Baptist were two of this Herod’s geographical subjects – two subjects who would present him with great discomfort.  

And, though declared tetrarch at the death of his father, the royal title of king was withheld from Herod Antipas, leaving him resentful, greedy for power, and suspicious of anyone who might threaten his rule.  Mark’s reference to him as “king” could truly be construed as satirical.  In fact, it is interesting to note that the forty-three-year reign of Herod Antipas would be ended in A.D. 39 as the result of his travelling to Rome to insist that he be granted royal status – the title of king that he craved.  But, rather than having his request granted, Herod Antipas was accused of crimes against Rome and was deported and exiled to Gaul for the duration of his life.

From early on, however, from his capital in Tiberias, Herod Antipas led a shallow existence of greed and self-satisfaction.  Growing weary of his current wife, he became smitten with his niece Herodias who was also the wife of his half-brother Philip. His marriage to her had drawn the distaste of John the Baptizer who had publicly chastised Herod Antipas for the marriage, which John declared unlawful and immoral within Jewish tradition.

For this very public act of sedition by John, Herod had imprisoned him.  And, Herod’s wife Herodias nurtured a bitter grudge against John for his outspoken condemnation of her marriage to Herod.  Herodias, however, was unsuccessful in having John eliminated because, as Mark tells us, Herod feared John knowing him to be a righteous and holy man.

But, as we have read just now, Herod sets a trap for himself, presenting an opportunity for the elimination of John – an opportunity on which Herodias would pounce.  Her daughter, whom Bible commentators agree is misnamed Herodias in verse 22 – more correctly named Salome, entrances Herod and his large audience with her sensual dance during what some historians define as a drunken orgy.  Herod, blinded by his lust for his stepdaughter and his compulsion to please and impress his crowd of onlookers, very publicly offers her anything she wishes as a gift for her seductive dance.  And, upon conferring with her mother, the gift the girl requests is the head of John the Baptist on a platter.  Mark tells us that Herod Antipas was deeply grieved; doubtless he was consumed with fear, yet, under the eyes of his subjects, he is compelled to send his soldier of the guard to fulfill the request to deliver the platter bearing the head of John the Baptist.

Herod did not fear John the Baptist because he was a wilderness man dressed in animal hair who ate bugs, or even because John raved against him publicly for his unlawful acts.  Herod Antipas feared John the Baptist because the evil misguided ruler recognized John as a righteous and holy man.

Spending his life as the forerunner of Jesus, much of John’s life can be paralleled with that of Jesus.   Their births were similarly proclaimed.  Like the unclean spirits that encountered Jesus, the evil Herod recognized holiness in John and knew that he was powerless over this holiness.  And, John, like Jesus would go quietly to his death under the authority of a weak and paranoid ruler who succumbed to the politically-corrupted and immorally-motivated cry of the crowd.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to walk about in the wilderness dressed in animal hair and eating bugs proclaiming the coming of one greater than each of us.  Most of us do not expect to go silently to our deaths for his sake.  But, Jesus does ask us to walk humbly in the presence of God and to proclaim his message regardless of the opposition we face, not being intimidated by the cry of the crowd.  And, Jesus asks us to remember that the devil dances in the presence of our arrogance, but quakes in the presence of righteousness.

John’s righteousness is epitomized in his humility; his holiness is embodied in his deep awareness that his power comes from God alone.   Conversely, Herod’s immorality is epitomized in his arrogance; his wickedness is embodied in his jealous pursuit of his own superficial royal status over the true kingship of God.

And, it is John the Baptist to whom we look as our model for righteousness and an eternal voice against evil.  Our fourth century church father St. John Chrysostum remarked, “Even to the very ends of the earth, you will hear this voice and see that righteous man even now crying out, resounding loudly, and reproving the evil of the tyrant.  He will never be silenced nor the reproof at all weakened by the passing of time.”

In utter humility, this voice of this righteous and holy man speaks the essence of the presence of God – that power comes from God alone.  Let us not allow our own voices against evil to be silenced nor our reproof of injustice to be weakened by the cry of the crowd.   Listen to John’s voice crying in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord. Make his paths straight.”