Sunday, May 31, 2009

Sermon for Pentecost Sunday

It’s been 50 days since the disciples saw the greatest sight that they would ever see for the rest of their lives: a dead man alive once again, before their eyes. But as awesome as that sight was, eventually the novelty wears off, and they are left with the question, “Now what?” Last week we heard them ask Jesus, “Will you now make good on the 2,000 year-old promise of God that we will have land and a kingdom to call our own, one which all the nations will acknowledge as the one chosen by God?” And after waiting two millennia, Jesus says, “What’s another few days? Wait for the Holy Spirit.”

And so here they are, on the 50th day, on the Jewish celebration of Pentecost, literally, “the 50th day.” The feast of Pentecost came 50 days after the feast of Passover, when the people of Israel celebrated their liberation by God from slavery in Egypt. Of course, after that mighty act of God, the people of Israel also asked, “Now what?” God’s answer to them was the Law, starting with the Ten Commandments, given to Moses at Mt. Sinai. And that is why Jews from all over the world, speaking many different languages, were in Jerusalem that day, to celebrate the feast of Pentecost. But the followers of Jesus Christ were not given more amendments to the law, nor were they given a brand new law. They were given something more tenuous, yet more deeply rooted in their hearts.

There is a tension between the seen and unseen. We want assurances we can see, yet the most important decisions we make are usually based on something more like intuition, because usually there isn't a prepared map to tell us what will happen if we take this turn or that turn. The same tension, between the seen and unseen, is here in the story of the first Christian Pentecost. The scene itself makes for great visual drama – one scholar calls it slightly burlesque. There they are, silently praying. Then suddenly the doors fly open, as do the clattering windows, blown open by a howling wind that shocks them out of their silence. Then what should appear above them, inside their room, but a fire which then divides into pieces that come to rest on top of each one.

But no film can show you what happens next. As that flame works its way throughout their bodies, each of Jesus’s disciples felt the fire that warmed the hearts of those two travelers on the road to Emmaus while Jesus walked with them unrecognized. Now, they are filled by the Holy Spirit, in their hearts, their minds, their eyes, ears and mouths. They no longer need to ask Jesus to interpret the story of Israel and her struggles. Now they can interpret the story themselves. Now they can go out into that huge crowd and listen to each individual story, and speak whatever “Good News” that person needs to hear. Yes, the Holy Spirit gives them the courage and the boldness to go out into that crowd and start preaching. But one can only speak of what one knows. And before they boldly go out, the Spirit opens their minds and hearts to new insights and fresh ways of understanding Holy Scripture.

They also are given the ability to communicate this Good News in different languages. These were religious pilgrims from as far south as Arabia, as far west as Turkey, and as far east as Iran. But no language is too remote for the Good News to comprehend. To some the apostles may have been drunks babbling away. But to those pilgrims waiting for the fulfillment of God's promises to Israel, it wasn't Pentecostal tongues they heard, but the best news of their lives.

Of course, “language” is a funny thing. George Bernard Shaw said that the English and Americans were two people divided by a common language. Our children are very adept at finding new ways to say something in such a way as to sound incomprehensible to their parents. Children growing up in an abusive home learn to speak a language that says, “I’m not a threat to you. I’m not looking for a fight. Please don’t hurt me,” and then carry that language with them into their other relationships. In other words, you don’t have to speak a foreign language to be speaking a different language.

In our culture, the language we often hear is very “Christian.” But we are here because we have found that what sounded “Christian” to many of the people around us didn’t sound Christian to you and me. I wonder how many others are out there, who have heard a “Christian” language that didn’t sound very loving, that didn’t sound “Christ-like?” The Holy Spirit gave the first disciples of Jesus boldness to speak in different languages. Perhaps what the Holy Spirit might give us is the boldness to listen – listen to the stories of those who have encountered judgment and hypocrisy in the churches they attended. Perhaps, when they are convinced that we have heard them, they might believe us when we tell them that there are places where they can find forgiveness and acceptance.

And so, in our speaking and our listening, wherever we are, let us always pray, "Come Holy Spirit, come."

Friday, May 29, 2009

Friday, 7th Week of Easter

Luke 10:38-42

So, are you a “Martha” or a “Mary?” Or are you more into study, prayer and worship, or you more into social activism, or the bricks and mortar of Church? These kinds of questions are the ones usually evoked by this story. Perhaps the power of the Word of God is that as each generation reads scripture, new meanings open up in response to changing cultures and expectations.

But when Luke’s original audience first read this story, they would not have seen the contrast between contemplation and activism. What they would have noticed was the scandalous behavior of a woman going into the main room, and sitting with the men. In that time, men gathered together in the main room, while the women would stay in the kitchen preparing the meal. Only outside, where children played, and in the bedroom, would a man and woman mix company. And not only is Mary mixing with men socially, she is sitting with them to hear Jesus teach. And just as the men were being prepared to be preachers of Jesus’s message, so was Mary presuming to be an apprentice, and a future preacher and teacher.

On Tuesday, we saw Jesus obliterate the national boundaries between Israel and the Gentiles. Yesterday, Jesus obliterated the religious boundaries between Jew and Samaritan. Today, he sweeps away the cultural boundaries between male and female.

If you think this is radical, just wait until the wind and fire on Sunday!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Thursday, 7th Week of Easter

Luke 10:25-37

Today we have the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It’s interesting to note that this parable follows Jesus’s famous “summary of the law” – to love God and neighbor. But in Matthew and Marr, that summary comes during Jesus’s final week in Jerusalem, and is part of his confrontation with the Jewish leaders just before his crucifixion. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus puts some very specific flesh on the command to love your neighbor as yourself.

You can read the background of the hatred between Jews and Samaritans here. To summarize: the Samaritans had been settled in the former land of Israel, adopted the God of Israel for their own, but continued some practices which the Jews rightly abhorred. In other words, both peoples claimed the promises of God’s chosen people, and looked upon the other with contempt – not all that different, I suppose, than the current dispute in that area.

When the lawyer asks Jesus, “who is my neighbor,” he is trying to find out if Jesus knows the “right” answer, which would have been one’s fellow Jew. The irony of Jesus’s parable is neither of the Jews, concerned with becoming ritually “unclean” by contact with a dead body, were a neighbor to the “half-dead” Jew lying on the road. Who turned out to be a neighbor to the dying Jew, Jesus asks the lawyer, to which the lawyer must admit that it was the hated Samaritan.

The unspoken question with which Jesus leaves the lawyer – and us – is: can you recognize the Samaritan as your neighbor?

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Wednesday, 7th Week of Easter

Luke 10:17-24

“I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.” (Luke 10:18)

Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell the story of Jesus’s temptation by Satan in the desert. But only Luke writes that after Jesus had withstood those temptations, Satan “departed from him until an opportune time” (4:13). The reality of Satan is expressed clearly in Luke’s Gospel. But who is Satan exactly? He is not whom you might think.

The Hebrew word, “Satan” means, “Accuser.” And in the Old Testament, that is Satan’s role in the courts of God. He is, in a sense, God’s overly zealous prosecutor of the human race. At some point, Satan devolves from prosecutor to persecutor, until finally Satan is the spiritual leader of rebellion against God’s loving purpose. In other words, Satan is the angel who insists to God that creation is a mistake, and that human beings are the crown of God’s error. They are not worthy of your love, Satan says, and so he strives to prove that point.

On the Cross, God could have easily taken the execution of his Son as the final argument of our conviction. But as God, Jesus demonstrates that God’s mercy knows no limit. As human, Jesus submits to that divine justice that could not leave sin unanswered. And as a human being, Jesus refutes once and for all Satan’s accusation that human beings are not worth being loved.

And now we, like the 72 whom Jesus sent out earlier in chapter 10, are to be sent out with the Holy Spirit. Sometimes, that mission will require us to confront sin and call it what it is. But our mission is not one of accusation and condemnation. We do seek to help people become “convicted” in their hearts. Through our love, people will be convicted of the ways in which they have crucified Jesus. But at the same time, they will also be convicted of God’s mercy and forgiveness.

It is pointless to accuse someone if you cannot show them the way out of the hole they have dug themselves in. The Bible is not the record of God’s indictment against us. It is the story of how God continually opens new doors of redemption no matter how far from him we wander. Our mission is not accusation, but redemption.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Tuesday, 7th Week of Easter

Luke 10:1-17

“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the mighty works done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But it will be more bearable in the judgment for Tyre and Sidon than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? You shall be brought down to Hades” (Lk 10:13-15)

Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum were towns in Israel, Tyre and Sidon had always been outside the borders of Israel. They were pagan towns, with all sorts of practices that the Jewish people found abominable: human sacrifice, and “sacred prostitution,” in which priests and priestesses “imitated” the gods and goddesses in the hope that they would bless the earth and make it fruitful at the harvest time.

Not surprisingly, the Jews looked down on those pagan cities that had oppressed them. But Jesus warns his fellow Jews that their mission is not to use God as a battering ram to confront the Gentiles. Jesus’ warning is very practical and specific. Keep pushing against the Romans, and eventually they will push back much, much harder. About 30 years later, when Roman legions put down a Jewish rebellion, they destroyed Jerusalem, crucified thousands, and scattered the rest throughout the nations.

As it was 2000 years ago, so it is today. Who are the “pagans” in our midst, who seem to beyond any hope of redemption? Where are we being complacent about our own salvation?

This week before Pentecost, we will be looking at Chapter 10 of Luke’s Gospel, which is about the mission of the Church, and its focus. As we prepare to celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit, let’s look at our own mission: to become an outward and visible sign of Christ in our sacramental worship, to give good news to those who desperately need it (Evangelism), train each other for this work (Discipleship), provide a safe space for people to be in community with each other (Fellowship) and to serve those in our church and on Sand Mountain who are suffering. (Ministry). That is what the Holy Spirit is about.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Sermon for the 7th Sunday of Easter

"(Jesus) ordered them not to depart from Jerusalem, but to wait for the promise of the Father...'you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.'” (Acts 1:4-5)

I had an odd feeling the other day. I walked into my home after a busy work day, and there was my wife sitting on the couch watching TV, and from our “guest” bedroom came the sounds of gunfire and explosions, which actually seemed quite normal to me. After all, my son has a number of video games. Some take place a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Some take place on the beaches of Normandy. Some take place in some modern country that ends in “stan.” But it’s all the same: good guys fighting bad guys while trying not to become bad guys themselves. So I walked by that bedroom, and said “Hi John.” Then I remembered that this was not all that normal. I hadn’t heard that sound in months because John has been in a state far, far away. But for a second, I felt as if I was in our old home. It felt as if John had never left.

I think that the three of us are between a full nest and an empty nest. We are between a relationship of authority, and a relationship of equals. It’s going to take time to redefine that relationship. And so we wait, between a past that seems comforting but is no longer real, and a future whose landscape we can’t see yet.

That is also where Jesus’s disciples are, in the reading from Acts. Jesus has left this earth and his friends. Jesus has left behind a promise. But we don’t know what shape that promise will take. The Greek word for spirit and wind are the same. Both are kind of hard to see. Both can be quite unpredictable. Sometimes, it’s easier to look back and hold on to the past, even if it isn’t really there anymore. So what are we to do in this “between” time? We are to pray and hang on to each other.

The disciples in today’s reading are hanging on to a past of their own: “Lord, has the time finally come? Are you about to restore Israel’s independence? Has the time finally come when the nations that have oppressed us for so long will realize how wrong they were and come to us begging forgiveness?” This is the vicious cycle that Israel has known for too long: return to their promised land; forgetfulness of their God; oppression, exile, even attempted genocide; another return to their land and yet another round of conquest and bondage. Of course, Jesus’s followers want to see the restoration of the kingdom of David, when Israel was the conqueror, and was free to worship her God without fear.

And what do they get from Jesus? A shrug of the shoulders, and this non-answer: “I don’t know what time my Father has set for these things, and you know, it’s really none of your business.” I think that at least some of his disciples got a little perturbed. So then Jesus says to them, “Wait. I know this doesn’t make sense right now, but wait. Wait for the Holy Spirit. I can’t tell you what day he’s going to show up. But a heck of a wind is going to come in. And that wind is going to blow you in new directions, to places in this world you can’t imagine right now. Wait.”
And so they wait together and pray together, with one purpose: to look for the coming of that holy wind, that will bring a new purpose, and the power to carry out God’s purpose for them. And in this promise of Jesus, they trust.

We too are “between.” Our attendance is up this year from what it has most recently been, but not as high as it has been in the more distant past. We would like our numbers to increase more, but we wonder where those new people will come from. So, we are between a time of conflict and instability, and a time of growth and stability. We are between youth and age. There are many of us closer to the end of our physical lives than the beginning, who need more help than we used to. There are also many of us who are very close to that beginning, and who need help to begin navigating this good and dangerous world. We are between the needs of both young and old, ministering to both. By this time next week, we will have celebrated two births, and we have recently had three burials. We are between life and death.

Our community is in a "'between" time. At the Albertville High School graduation, I could count on one hand the number of African Americans I saw getting a diploma. I suspect that before the mid 1990s, Albertville was a pretty homogeneous place, based on skin color. We all know that it isn't today. And whatever mistakes have been made in the past, changing government policies will not change the current demographics in this community. This community is between a unity based on a common race, and a unity rooted more deeply in our common humanity.

And so, as we wait together, we pray together, just as those first disciples waited and prayed together. We pray together on this and every Sunday. We pray together in our daily prayer – here in the church or on the Blog. We pray together for healing in our Tuesday Eucharist. And praying together and waiting together, we grow more and more into that outward and visible sign of Christ’s love that people around us need.

Next Sunday, we will celebrate that Holy wind that blew the first disciples in directions they could never have imagined. Pray this week for the Holy Spirit to blow us in God's direction.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Taking a Short Break

I'm headed to Birmingham to visit my father-in-law. I know that many of you are taking off for the Memorial Day Weekend. So, I'm going to give us all a holiday break from the daily meditations.

I will post my sermon on Sunday, so that all of you playing hookey can still hear the Word given and received. In the meantime, you can continue to read the Scriptures and pray at the Daily Office website. I will resume my daily thoughts on Tuesday.

Have a blessed and refreshing break, and please remember that Memorial Day is not just the start of Summer, but is also the day to remember and give thanks for those who, as Abraham Lincoln said in his Gettysburg Address, gave their last full measure of devotion for the land God gave them, and our freedom.