Holy Week, Mon.-Wed.

Mon. – Mark 11:12-25
Tue. – Mark 11:27-33
Wed. – Mark 12:1-11

In the days leading up to his Passion, the Daily Office takes us through some of the opposition to Jesus. If we're going to walk with Jesus toward His, and our resurrection; then we need to walk with Jesus toward His, and our cross. And that means facing the enemies of Christ, then and now.

In clearing the Temple of those animals used for sacrifices, Jesus rendered the Temple useless for that day. Of course the sacrifices continued the next day. But Jesus had made his point. The Temple in Jerusalem was not the only place where one could meet God and find forgiveness of sin. In the center of the Temple was the Holy of Holies, that place where God had his dwelling on Earth. It was "set apart," which is the literal meaning of "holy." But Jesus made it clear that wherever people encountered him was the Holy of Holies. I don't think Jesus had a problem with "set apart" places for worship. What he does have a problem with is when we think that Jesus is only in those special places, and when we hoard our divine treasure for ourselves. God gives himself away to the world, and so must we.

I have been "ordained," that is, "appointed" to the office of priest in the Church. I've been given a share of authority in the apostolic ministry of Jesus Christ that has descended through those who have been appointed as Bishops. But we have no authority over the Holy Spirit, who blows where it will. Those who question Jesus's authority are too insecure about their own.

The wicked tenants forgot that everything they had was a gift, and what they had was to be given just as freely as they had been given too. Again, they hoarded. Again, they controlled. Again, they limited the access to their treasure. How have we hoarded? How have we controlled? How have we limited the access? And most "crucially" (from the Latin for "cross"), are we prepared for the opposition that will ensue when we stop hoarding, stop controlling, stop limiting?

Palm Sunday: The Passion of our Lord

Almighty and everliving God, who, of thy tender love towards mankind, hast sent thy Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him our flesh, and to suffer death upon the cross, that all mankind should follow the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may both follow the example of his patience, and also be made partakers of his resurrection; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

When he was translating the Bible into English for the first time, John Wycliffe had to invent a word to communicate the nuance of the Greek word for "sacrifice." That word is "atonement," or more accurately, "at-one-ment." On the cross, Jesus somehow made us at one again with God. He restored us to a right relationship with God. Still, the question remains. How is it that through the Cross we are restored to a right relationship with God Almighty when by our actions we condemn ourselves to eternal death? Was Jesus the substitute for us sinners, taking the heat of God's rage and wrath so that we ourselves escape annihilation by Almighty God? Did the Father order his son to come down and be that substitute for us? There are many who see in that picture, not our loving Father, but a bloodthirsty tyrant who demands that his own son spill his blood in order to satisfy his Father's thirst.

Recoiling from that image, some Christian theologians have suggested that Jesus's purpose was not to transact some legal business with his Father by satisfying his bloodlust, or paying off a debt that we ourselves could never pay back to God. They have said that what Jesus did on the cross was to show the human race what we are capable of. In this view, Jesus is the greatest example of love for all the world to see. Rather than breathing a sigh of relief for having escaped punishment, we are to be inspired by that example to love as Jesus loved. But is Jesus just an example? A child's lust for chocolate leads him or her to reach up for that cookie jar, which the father said not to touch. That jar slips out of the tiny hands and crashes on the floor in far too many pieces to be glued back together. Every single one of us has at least one broken cookie jar in the closet of our haunted memories. We cannot put it back together. We cannot make it right. Our father has every right to be angry. What good is an example?

So which is it? On this Sunday when we remember our Lord's death, which theology of atonement do we embrace: the bloody substitute or the example that leaves us right where we are, lost in our sin and loneliness? Neither by themselves: But together, they satisfy God's justice and God's mercy. And both are what we prayed in our collect.

"Almighty and everliving God, who, of thy tender love towards mankind…" or more clearly, "humankind." Note that everything which God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit did in relation to humankind was out of "tender love," not wrath. God is our Creator. Sin is rebellion against the very source of our life. If we are alienated from our Creator, then God doesn't have to destroy us in some fit of rage. We're already dead, the living dead, walking through this world alienated from our God and from each other. We are alone. And that is a living death. All that God has ever done has been to find a way to end the alienation between him and us. God knows the broken cookie jar cannot be ignored. But rather than those broken pieces creating a chasm between us and God, God decided to join us on the other side.

For God "hast sent thy Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him our flesh, and to suffer death upon the cross." God the Father and God the Son are one: one mind, one heart, and one will. God the Father and God the Son agreed that God would have to cross over to our side. "Though he was in the form of God," Paul writes to the Philippians, Jesus "did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited" (Philippians 2:6). Jesus and the Father agreed that God would have to take the decisive step to end the alienation between us and God. And so, God the Son "emptied himself, taking the form of a slave" (Phil 2:7). Jesus took upon himself our "flesh," the limitations of our finite "nature," and suffered death, "even death on a cross" (2:8).

Just in case we didn't hear it the first time, our collect reminds us of Jesus's suffering, when we pray that "we may follow the example of his patience," from the Latin pati, "to suffer." To be patient is to suffer with someone. Jesus was patient, even with those who nailed him to the Cross and who mocked him, but of whom Jesus pleaded, "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34). In his patient suffering, he shared our nature, our fear and even our doubt: "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" (Mark 15:34).

What exactly occurred in the relationship between God the Father and God the Son in those three hours is something that no man-made "theory of atonement" can fully explain. But when we ask God to "mercifully grant that we may walk in the way of the cross," we are acknowledging that whatever hope we have in this world and the next is entirely dependent on the mercy of God. Some theologians have written that Jesus made "satisfaction" for our injustice. He submitted to God's justice so that God's mercy might be freely extended to us sinners. Other theologians have speculated that Jesus gave his life as the "ransom" (Mark 10:45) owed to our "accuser," which is what the word "Satan" means. In doing so, Jesus spreads his divine mercy over us to protect us from the Accuser. Whatever "transaction" occurred between God the Father and God the Son on that cross, the purpose was not to always remind us of our sin, but of God's mercy, revealed in Him who shared the entire human experience, save sin.

But is that all there is to atonement? Is the Cross simply a get-out-of-jail card? Are we free to just walk away? Hardly: Having witnessed the "example of his great humility," we pray that we might follow his example and walk in the way of his patient suffering. Does this seem impossible? " Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus" (Phil 2:5), Paul writes. Jesus's example is not some interesting historical fact that is now nearly 2,000 years old. Every time we eat the bread and drink the wine, we receive the crucified Christ into our minds, our hearts and souls. And as Jesus patiently suffered with others, so God mercifully grants us to patiently suffer with others, with those we love, with those who make us uncomfortable, with those who disagree with us. Jesus Christ cannot heal the alienation between us and God if we remain alienated from each other.

Jesus Christ did not, and does not, ignore the broken cookie jars. But we need not keep them in the closet. I invite us all this Holy Week to take the broken pieces out and look at them under the shadow of the cross. Look up at that broken body, and then look down again, to see the pieces no longer there. Then we can see ourselves, and each other, not as broken jars, but as companions on the way of patience, and resurrection.

The Annunciation

In the Middle Ages, most European countries dated the start of the new year, not on January 1st, but on March 25th. Why? Because on that day, the most momentous event in human history happened. The Angel Gabriel bowed to a Jewish teenage girl, and she agreed to bear God's son. We don't know actually the exact date, of course. But we know that it happened, and that nine months later, God's Son was born into the world. We don't know for sure which came first, March 25th or December 25th. But within the first few hundred years after Christ, the Church had fixed March 25th as the date to celebrate the conception of God's Son in Mary's womb, and his birth nine months later on Dec. 25.

Even in the midst of Lent, the Church proclaims "Alleluia." For on this day; God who is beyond all human thought, sense and material, takes on human flesh and becomes a microscopic embryo. For many, this is a stumbling block. If God is infinite and truly beyond all things, how can God be subject to the limits of finite time? How can God be subject to the limits of a particular place and a particular people?

And if that isn't scandalous enough for you ("Scandal" originally meant "stumbling block); then how about God sending an angel to beg at the feet of a poor teenage girl, and waits for her answer. Did God know what her answer would be? Had he been searching Judea and Galilee for the girl whom God knew would say yes? Or did God have to wait on Mary just as Gabriel did? We do know that Mary was not ordered to bear God's Son. She was offered the enormous call, with no promises that everything would be alright. God offered, and waited for her to answer on her own.

Would Mary have said, "Let it happen to me as you say," if she had known that one day she would hold her dead son after having watched him die on a cross? Do any of us really want to know the future for our children? We are asked to embrace the gift of life not knowing whether, on some days, we will wonder how much of a gift it was. Mary was no different than us. But she certainly knew the risk to herself of carrying a child out of wedlock. She could probably guess from the stories of the Old Testament prophets the opposition sure to come against God's messengers. But she trusted that God would lead her and her son through whatever darkness would come.

And so, just as we ask the saints around us to pray for us, so we also ask: "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen"

5th Week of Lent

Mon. – Mark 9:30-41
Tue. – Mark 9:42-50
Wed. – Mark 10:1-13
Thurs. – Mark 10:17-31
Fri. – Mark 10:32-45
Sat. – Mark 10:46-52

In our liturgical time, and in the time of Mark's Gospel, the cross looms. With the healing of blind Bartimaeus on Saturday, Jesus will enter Jerusalem, just as we will enter Jerusalem next Sunday and begin the death march. Ain't that cheery. Jesus knows that, and tells his disciples that in today's reading. But those who want to follow his way are either too dense, or too frightened, to understand what he's telling them. I suspect that it's the latter. They have given their lives to Jesus, and don't want Jesus to abandon them.

So, much of Jesus's "last will and testament" to his followers is centered on the importance of community, or to use a more churchy word, communion. We can't follow Jesus on our own, we all need each other. On Monday, we hear that we don't just need the powerful but the children as well, because it is through the children that we see Jesus's trust in his Father. Husbands and wives need each other. Children need their parents. We don't, contrary to the Rich Man, need money. But we do need to be mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers to each other.

Money and power will be of no comfort on our death beds. What will be of comfort is if we are not alone. And also the assurance that what we have "done and left undone," has been forgiven and forgotten by the Dad (or "Abba") of us all, through Jesus Christ who "came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (10:45). He who knew no comfort on the cross will be our comfort. Thanks be to God!

Sermon, 5th Sunday of Lent

We are reminded at the beginning of chapter 12 of John's Gospel that this was the same Lazarus whom Jesus had raised from the dead. He had lain inside a cave for four days. Martha had warned Jesus of the obvious; that a four-day-old corpse is going to smell. But in front of his sisters, Martha and Mary, and who knows how many witnesses, Jesus raised a four-day-old corpse back from the dead. Jesus Christ has demonstrated, in an action that not even his enemies even tried to discredit, his power of life over death.

And what is the reaction of his enemies? Do they try to discredit him. No; they do not question his life-giving power. "What are we to do? For this many performs many miracles." No, they just worry about how much trouble the life-giver is going to cause them. "If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation." To which the High Priest responds, perfectly cold political logic: "it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed." The very moment of Jesus's greatest triumph over the powers of death and despair also becomes the event that seals his fate, and guarantees his own death and apparent defeat by his enemies.

This is what we read in the story of John's Gospel before the account of the dinner held by Lazarus's family in Jesus's honor. And the same paradoxes of life and death, joy and grief, gratitude and rejection, are found in Mary's extraordinary offering, a whole pound of perfume. I bought some perfume for the Children's sermon last night. The smallest bottle I could find at Wal-Mart cost $6 for 1/4th of an ounce. The standard ounce or two cost anywhere from $20-$30. But what Mary poured on Jesus's feet was made from pure nard, oil of a flower that was extremely rare, that had to be imported from as far away as India. How much was this perfume worth that Mary was just pouring all over the place?

Judas Iscariot tells us that this precious perfume could have been sold for "300 denarii." That was about an entire year's wage for the average worker. It could have been given to the poor, Judas sniffs. Yes, it was an extravagant offering that Mary made to Jesus. But what was the life of her brother worth? A year's income? Perhaps Mary expected many years of happy companionship with her brother. Was a year's worth of perfume even enough for what Jesus had given her and Martha? Or was it as much as she could risk? For Lazarus to have supported himself and two unmarried sisters, he must have been a man of success, and man of wealth, with perhaps a year's expenses safely squirreled away in their savings. Was it worth the risk of a year's savings to give honor and worship to the man who brought him back from the dead?

Of course, Jesus understood that this was not just an expression of Mary's gratitude, or even a risky expression of faith. "She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial." More than anything, this was Mary's sacrifice, her giving up of her wealth and fortune. As Jesus would sacrifice himself for the sins of the world; so did Mary, whether or not she understood, sacrifice herself to the Crucified one. She was the first to join her personal sacrifice to the sacrifice of the Christ.

For what in your life would you be so grateful that you would offer an entire year's income just to say, "Thank you?" What is so important to you that you would risk an entire year's savings to gain? What potential reward is so great to you that you would sacrifice an entire year's income? If a year is impossible for you personally, look at this church. We have more than a year's budget squirreled away. How has God blessed us? For what should we be grateful to God? How much is that gratitude worth to us? Are we risking enough to fulfill our mission of bridging Christ and community? Would any kind of ministry or mission be worth that much risk? Is there something about this church that is so loved that a year's income would be a worthwhile sacrifice?

As the "leader" of this parish, I can get out in front of you, but not so far out in front that you can't see me, and I can point in a certain direction. But Jesus didn't tell Mary to what, or how much, to offer. She just did it. These are all questions, which I hope that I and your elected Vestry can begin to discern the answers that God is trying to give us. Are these questions scary to consider? Just a couple of weeks away from Good Friday, you bet. By her sacrifice, Mary shared in Jesus's sacrifice. But we who call ourselves Christians also know the Resurrection that we will also share with him who died and rose again for us. To prepare for the burial is also to prepare for the empty tomb. Let's get started.

God's Special Time

In case you haven't heard, I'm going to prison this weekend … When ever I've said that, I just can't get a rise out of anyone. They just look at me, knowing that there's a perfectly sensible explanation to follow. In this case, the explanation is Kairos, an international prison ministry in which Christians from all denominations go to prison, not to preach to the residents, but "to Listen, Listen—Love, Love." You can bet that they have heard plenty about how "bad" they are. One more sermon won't be any more effective than the hundreds they've heard before.

But haven't these people made their own bed? Shouldn't they just lie in it? Isn't our only responsibility to lock them up and keep them contained so that us good people are safe? Here's the problem. To believe that is to actually reduce God's power in this world. Are certain places in this world off limits even to God? But aren't the fact that some people are getting justice by being locked away actually a sign of God's power? If God is only power, then that would be true. But that is not what we are taught? "Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love" (1st John 4:8).

As followers of the One who was nailed to a Cross, and yet pleaded, "Forgive them for they know not what they do;" we believe that nothing is more powerful than God's love for the world he made and the human beings made in God's image. No place in the world or in the heart is too dark for God's light to shine. Now, is it possible that some might never open their eyes to that light? Perhaps: but that is their decision. Kairos is a time of decision for the candidates who have applied to come and have been accepted. Will they forgive those who have hurt them? (Don't suppose for a second that those acts as predators toward other human beings have not themselves been preyed on) Will they accept that they are truly loved? Pray that they will do so.

Just to be clear, Kairos is not about getting anybody out of prison before they have served their time. It is not about denying justice, for God is most certainly just. Kairos is about helping them see that wherever they are, on the inside or outside, they are not separated from God's love. That is how powerful our God is; that God's love will go wherever it needs to bring his children to repentance, forgiveness and resurrection. Please pray for myself, Russ and Lili Henderson, Debbie Free and Kathy Wilemon who will be serving the candidates this weekend.

Sermon, 4th Sunday of Lent

"This son of mine was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." (Luke 15:24)

Here's a shocking headline: Episcopal priest preaches sermon with no Jesus in it. Seriously; I almost had this sucker finished on Saturday night, and then discovered that not once did I mention Jesus Christ. What a scandal! Except that I did use the word, "father" 28 times. Our Book of Common Prayer is sort of like a stylebook that helps us learn about God by teaching us how to converse with God. And guided by this book, we actually spend most of our time in church talking directly to that first person of the Trinitarian God. Most of our collects begin with an address to "God," but almost always conclude with "through Jesus Christ." So that we are praising the Father and petitioning the Father through Jesus, whom we hope will add his intercession to our petition.

And yet, as we hear in John's Gospel, No one has seen God the Father. How can we have a conversation with this God whom we have never seen? It is Jesus through whom we know anything about this Father God. Perhaps it is little surprise that preachers turn to the second person of the Trinity. Him we have seen and touched; Him we hear and taste every Sunday. But I won't bore you by citing the many times that the Son made it clear that none of this was about him, but about the One who sent him. And in today's "parable of parables," Jesus tells us so much about the "Father." His Father, and our Father, is so much closer to us than we can see with our naked eyes. His Father, and our Father, is always gracious to us, always generous toward us. And His Father, and our Father, is always faithful to us, however far we wander. The truth is that both sons were lost to their Father. Both sons failed to understand their father. Both sons failed to appreciate their Father's generosity and grace. And both sons failed to accept that they were truly his sons, not his slaves.

"There was a man who had two sons." And as they grew, it became clear to the younger that his elder brother, as the firstborn, would inherit the most of his father's land and possessions. The elder brother would inherit the best parts of the land. How it gnawed at him over the years. Why should an accident of their order of birth determine who got the biggest inheritance? Starting out with a smaller share, how would he ever make something of himself? How would he be able to prove that he was really he smarter brother, the more creative brother? All his elder brother did was set his nose to the grindstone like the rest of the slaves day after day after day. The younger brother had dreams of what his father's estate could be with a little innovation and fresh thinking. But alas, those dreams would never come true where he lived. And so one day he went to his Father and said, "Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me." And with no protest, no cajoling, no scolding, the Father divided his property, his very livelihood, between his two sons.

Now here is where the younger son fell into death. Here is where he got lost. "He gathered all he had." This younger son had inherited a good amount of property. But he hadn't inherited that property from his father. The children of Israel always reminded themselves that they had earned nothing and owned nothing. All the land that they had, had been given thousands of years ago to their forefathers by God. It wasn't really your land. It was your family's land going back to the time of their deliverance from slavery in Egypt and conquest of Canaan by God's almighty hand. If the son was really itching to travel, he could have hired some tenant to farm his land, and send him a portion of what they produced and sold. He would have plenty of money to live the adventurous kind of life he wanted to live.

But no, he "gathered all he had." He wanted as much cold cash as he could get his hands around. So to gather all he had, he sold the land that had belonged to his family for generations, which had been given to his family by God. But the younger son failed to appreciate what had been handed down to him. For him, the only value of that land, of what his Father had just handed down to him, was in the metal that clanged in his bags. And then to make matters worse, he turned his back on his nation, the chosen people of Israel, "and traveled to a distant country." He left the land that had been given him by God and went to a country of Gentiles, where they actually had contact with pigs. In the Jewish custom, pigs were taboo, off limits to the children of Israel. Why? It doesn't really matter. Every society has some customs that only make sense to the people who live in that society. But by going to a country where he would find himself having to feed, and sleep with the pigs, the younger son knew full well that he was slapping his father and his country in the face.

The younger brother chose to no longer be his Father's son. He chose to no longer be a child of Israel. That is, until the day when starving, "he came to himself." He remembered his Father's hired hands, and thought, why not me. He "knew" that he had thrown away his birthright; that he had no right to be considered a son with an inheritance. He had shamed his father in front of the whole village by his disrespectful behavior. But perhaps if he went back groveling; he might be less than a son but more than a slave, a laborer who could at least make enough to survive. He failed to appreciate that his father, and our Father, does not care about his honor when it comes to his children. He will run like a little girl, hiking up his robe, and meet us more than halfway if we but take the first step back to where we belong.

Now we meet the elder brother; who apparently was working so hard that he hadn't noticed that everybody else on the estate had come in for the party. But soon enough, he heard the music and dancing, demanded that one of the slaves tell him what was going on, and let the full horror sink in. His younger brother had been welcomed back as a son, with the same right of inheritance as he had had before he humiliated the family. After blowing everything his father had given him, he was now entitled once again to the younger son's share of a smaller piece of land than he and his father had had before. Yes he's livid. But now he shows as much disrespect to his father as his brother, by refusing to even come into his father's presence. And just as the father sacrificed his honor for the younger; so he sacrifices it for the elder by going to him, not to slap him, but to beg him.

The younger son had rejected his father explicitly. But the elder, while staying with his father, has forgotten who he is. "For so long I have slaved for you." To which the father replies, "Child, you are always with me." Who made you a slave? When did I ever treat you as anything less than my child? You're the one who assumed that you had to earn my love. You're the one who assumed that I was your dictator. You have been as free as your brother to accept my love or reject it. He rejected me openly. You've been silently rejecting me for years.

Well, the elder shoots back: "you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends" To which the father replies, "all that is mine is yours." Remember, I divided my livelihood between the two of you. This has all been yours as much as it has been mine. You never needed to ask my permission to fix some veal for your friends. Alright, maybe you respected my position as the father too much to just take something. Fine. Why didn't you ask? Did you think we weren't wealthy enough? Look around you at this party. Look at all these people sharing food and drink, and love. Where there is love, there will always be enough of the rest my child.

The younger son got lost because he assumed that there was not enough of his father's grace and generosity to go around. The elder son got lost, without ever leaving home, because he assumed that there was no grace and generosity to go around. Both failed to understand that as long as we accept the Father's love, and authority, there will always be enough to feed anyone, anyone who wanders onto our land. How is it that we get ourselves lost today? Perhaps some who wander onto this holy land are lost because they think they have to take what they need to survive. Perhaps some of us are lost because we want to hoard what we have. We're afraid that our wealth, our strength, our compassion, won't be enough for everybody. Perhaps some of us are lost because we need to blame somebody else for what we don't have.

But here on this holy land, our Father is with his children always. So let us celebrate and rejoice, for the lost who come to us, for the dead who find new life here with us. The party has just begun.

The Daily Office: 3rd Week of Lent

Mon. – Mark 5:21-43
Tue. – Mark 6:1-13
Wed. – Mark 6:13-29
Thurs. – Mark 6:30-46
Fri. – Mark 6:47-56
Sat. – Mark 7:1-23

There are two broad themes in this section of Mark's Gospel. One is the constant opposition that Jesus meets, which persists even in the face of the incredible power he displays. From his hometown neighbors to kings to the religious leaders; even his own disciples' "hearts were hardened" in the same way that Jesus's enemies hardened their hearts. How might such opposition play itself out today?

Can we be too parochial, so caught up in the small struggles of our little community that we fail to look up and see our connection to the wider world? Can we become too smug in the perceived superiority of our community that we look down on others too far away for us to see up close, to see that they really aren't that different from us? Can we, like Herod, be too caught up in ourselves, our needs, to do the right thing even when we know it? It's been said that the last seven words of the Creed are: "We have always done it this way." Are there religious traditions to which we are too attached? Traditions that are so dear to us that we they have blinded us to the simplicity of doing mercy?

The other theme is that of the "unclean" and the "defiled." It is important to note that in Jesus's time, these two concepts were not so much moral as ritual. To be "unclean" meant that you had somehow come into contact with God. That was especially true if you were bleeding, for the life that God gave every living thing was in the blood itself. The power of God was uncontrollable and dangerous. Those who came into contact with blood could not be allowed to have contact with the rest of the community. They were isolated and alone. To be "defiled" meant "to be made common," to no longer be holy, set apart by God for God's purposes.

In both cases, Jesus blows away the barriers to community that human beings have created. We need not fear the power of God. In the words of the hymn: "The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design thy dross to consume, and thy gold to refine." Whatever you fear to show God for fear of the flame, do not worry. God's fire will only warm, not burn. And indeed, the whole world is alive with the fire of God. There is no distinction between the holy and the common. God is waiting for you out there. Keep the eyes of your heart open wherever you go today, and all days.

Sermon, 3rd Sunday of Lent

"At that very time…[Jesus said], ' unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did'" (Luke 13:1,5)

Call this day, "Over-the-Hump Sunday," the 3rd of the five Sundays of Lent. Hearing your friendly neighborhood priest tell you that unless you repent you will all perish might convince you that three Sundays of Lent is enough. But in case that didn't get you down, how about this, from Walter Russell Mead, the son of an Episcopal priest and writer for a journal called The American Interest. Here is how he describes, not just the Episcopal Church, but all the current "mainline" denominations:

"The American church is staggering under the burden of a physical plant that it doesn’t use and can’t pay for; it staggers under the burden of dysfunctional and bloated denominational and professional structures that it can no longer carry; and it is crippled by outdated ideas about what it needs to do its job…The mainline churches in particular are organized like General Motors was organized in the 1950s: they have cost structures and operating procedures that simply don’t work today. They are organized around what I’ve been calling the blue social model, built by rules that don’t work anymore, and oriented to a set of ideas that are well past their sell-by date."

Well, that's not a hopeful perspective on the future. I personally question whether this broad brush he paints of the "American church," is too broad. I don't think it applies as well to the Episcopal Church in Alabama. But there are parts of this church that, to be honest, Mead nails. So, here's one more thing to worry about. People are afraid for the future of our community, our country, even our church. The people listening to Jesus were afraid for their future. They wanted Jesus to take away their fear. He wasn't going to do that. But Jesus would try to help them get past their fear of the future, and trust in his grace.

The truth is that Jesus has already gotten pretty riled up at the crowd surrounding him. Listen to what he says in the verses just before today's Gospel reading: "When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, 'It is going to rain'; and so it happens, duh. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, 'There will be scorching heat'; and it happens, duh. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?" (Lk 12:54-57). There are two Greek words for time. One is Chronos, from which we get the word, "chronological." That's the normal cycle of time in which we live: when a cloud rises in the west, it's time for rain: when the clock says five, it's time for happy hour, unless like Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett, you just figure that it's always five o' clock somewhere.

But that's not the word Jesus uses. Here the crowd is mocked for not knowing how to interpret the Kairos. That's the right time, the urgent time, the time in which a decision, or the consequences of decisions, can no longer be avoided. It is not our time of predictable cycles in which we can feel safe. The Kairos is God's time of decision and judgment, and our necessary response. Jesus is trying to slap his hearers out of complacency. You better believe it's going to rain. The Romans aren't happy with you uppity Jews. A lot of your fellow Jews are so unhappy that they're just waiting for the right time to rise up in revolt. By the time the Romans are through with them and you, everybody is going to be most unhappy. You'd best be figuring out what God wants of you in this stormy time. You'd best be praying that God will lead you in his direction, not the Romans' and not the rebels'.

To which his listeners responded: "At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices." Ok Jesus, we get it that a storm is coming and we don't mean rain. And we've just heard how Roman soldiers slaughtered our people while they were at church, offering sacrifices in the Temple. When such abominations take place, is this God's time, the Kairos when God will blow away those who oppress us? Is this now the right time to end such senseless suffering as the tower at Siloam falling, killing 18 people who were just doing their jobs?

To which Jesus sighs and replies: quit looking around you for the signs of God's Kairos. Quit looking at clouds in the sky and news reports of atrocities and tragedies. Repent! That is, turn around. Turn away from the vain attempt to forecast God's actions. Turn away from searching the daily news for clues of an approaching apocalypse, so that you'll know when to get out of the way. Turn away from the vain attempt to gain some illusion of control over the storms that will blow you away when you least expect it. Or you will perish as they did; unprepared to be the signs of God's judgment and grace that they could have been even at the moment of their deaths.

Of course we chuckle at the cluelessness of those around Jesus. But the truth is that we have the same dilemma. We all must learn how to interpret the present time. We all must learn to distinguish between the chronos and the kairos of our lives. We all must learn to discern when we must turn away from the predictable and comfortable cycles of our chronological time, and embrace God's time, even when that time brings a storm with it. Some of the kairos times of our lives are very personal, like the physical death of a loved one when the Spirit of God finally receives the soul of that long suffering person with their last breath.

But as in today's Gospel, other times of Kairos are not personal. They are very public and very congregational. For Jesus's listeners, interpreting the Kairos of God was a matter of life and death for the whole congregation of Israel. Blessedly, I don't think that Christ Church is facing any life or death decisions. Our pews are far from empty. We have managed to increase our response to God's grace with an 8 percent increase in pledges. And we have at least an entire year's budget in reserve. We're doing fine. But if you've heard anything from today's Good News, I hope you've heard that to live in God's time, to live in Kairos, means much more than doing fine.

Times are tough on Sand Mountain. I don't think it takes any special wisdom to see that. It is a time of fear, and decline. What can Christ Church do to feed peoples' hopes rather than their fears? We have a community that cares for each other and accepts each other in our diversity of ages, economic status, religious and political opinions. To be an evangelist isn't to beat somebody on the head with the Good Book. It is to communicate the Good News of what Jesus Christ is doing here; in our beautiful worship and loving fellowship; in our inspired learning to be His disciples and our service to each other and our community. How can we all be better communicators of this Good News? In our one-on-one communication? On our website?

To live in God's time, to live in Kairos, is to not to blindly react to the tough times out of blind fear. To live in God's time, to live in Kairos, is not to seek our own protection before all else. To live in God's time, to live in Kairos, is to turn away from our fear of the future, our fear of the unknown, our fear of the new. For walking together, in God's good time, we shall never perish.

The Daily Office: 2nd Week of Lent

Mon. – Mark 3:7-19a
Tue. – Mark 3:19b-35
Wed. – Mark 4:1-20
Thurs. – Mark 4:21-34
Fri. – Mark 4:35-41
Sat. – Mark 5:1-20

The bulk of this week's readings from Mark's Gospel include the one section of the Gospel in which he gives us his version of the "greatest hits" of Jesus's parables. I confess that I sometimes feel like the sower who throws out the Word of God as best he can every Sunday, never sure what effect he's having on the listening congregation. That's how I situate myself in the Parable of the Sower. Where do you see yourself in this Parable? The Greek word parabole means "symbol." And the meaning of a symbol is determined both by the one communicating, and the one hearing. What you see in the symbol is as valid as what I see. Let your mind wander as you read Jesus's parables, and see yourself in them.

Of course, Jesus told the parables first, and he had an intention behind them. To be honest, there is good news in his parables, and bad news. Keep in mind that in Mark's Gospel, Jesus tells the Parable of the Sower after his family has come to take him away because they thought he was out of his mind. And just before that, he had been accused of demonic activity. Note that in the Sower's Parable, there are four different places where the seed lands. And in three of those places, the seeds come to naught. In other words, the sower's failure rate is 75 percent. Ouch! Is that all we present day sowers have to look forward to?

The letter parable of the growing seed, starting in verse 26, is the other side of the coin. It's amazing what one seed can do right under our eyes, but without our notice. On neighborhood streets, I've seen mighty trees that have split the concrete sidewalks in two. But at one point, that mighty tree was just a small shoot that year after year, grew little by little. How many years of time-lapse photography would it take to document that tiny shoot splitting the seemingly immovable concrete. Try you might, but it can't be visualized. It was just that one day, we noticed that there was now a tree there, showing the sidewalk who's Boss.

Amid our failures and disappointments, Jesus in his parables encourages us to keep trying, and trust that his grace will bring results that we cannot visualize. That's the Good News.