Healing Eucharist, Tuesday, Proper 9

Matthew 23:1-15,23-26

There is no "Lesser Feast" of a saint any day this week, so let's look at the Daily Office reading for today; when we see Jesus go ballistic. "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!" Jesus shouts at them again and again. And yet, before he begins his list of woes, he tells the crowd that has been watching him debate the Pharisees: "The teachers of the law and the Pharisees have inherited Moses' authority; so heed what they say, but not what they do." Doesn't it seem strange for Jesus to give them any credit?

Of course, it is in Matthew's Gospel that we hear Jesus say, "Don't even think that I have come to nullify the Law of Moses. I have not come to nullify the Law, but to complete it" (Matt 5:17). Jesus honored the Law that God had given to Moses. Of course, with over 600 separate rules in the Law, experts were needed to interpret the Law. And Jesus doesn't question their expertise.

The Pharisees and legal experts knew the Law inside and out. They got every question on the test right. Their problem was they seemed to think that getting the right answers was all it took to enjoy life with the living God. But the life of faith is not just about right teaching. It is also a matter of right action: "You have cancelled the most important parts of the Law – justice, mercy and trustworthiness," Jesus says to them (Matt 23:23).

But even more than that, life with God is a journey and a relationship. God walks with us in that journey. Sometimes, we take the wrong path and get lost. When we realize that, do we assume that God left us alone on that dark path? Absolutely not: that is when the Holy Spirit, which comes from the Father and the Son, is closest to us, holding our hand. God never stops looking at us, no matter what we do. And God will always be ready to help us get back on the right path, one step at a time.

Sometimes, the path of healing can seem too long for us to even start. But only God really knows how long our healing will take. All God asks of us is that we put one foot in front of the other, and he will take care of the rest. And don't worry about failing the test. After all, the Pharisees passed the test. For we have never had a more patient teacher than Jesus Christ.

Independence Day, July 4

I wish I could tell you that the Episcopal Church has always honored this special day. But truth be told, the Episcopal Church's relationship with American independence is somewhat complicated. In the days when the United States were just 13 colonies, our forbears were members of the Church of England, the state church of the English nation. So, when many American patriots rose up in rebellion against the King of England, other Americans remained loyal to their mother country. William White, an Anglican clergyman in New Jersey, supported the cause of American independence. Samuel Seabury, an Anglican priest in Connecticut, was a chaplain to British troops during the war. After the war, when America had become an independent nation, it would have seemed impossible for Seabury and White to ever belong to the same church again; or for a church so closely associated with England as the Anglican church to survive here.

And yet it did. Both Seabury and White became the first bishops on this land, and were instrumental in forming the Episcopal Church. Just as the Church of England had a Book of Common Prayer, so Episcopalians in America set out to compose a prayer nook for their church. A proposed Book of Common Prayer was published in 1786. It included a set of biblical readings and a prayer to commemorate this special day, the same as we have in today's prayer book. But the proposed book met with considerable opposition. And according to one writer of the time, "The Thanksgiving for the Fourth of July is in all probability the one principal cause of the opposition. Even Bishop White, a supporter of American Independence, realized that it was too soon after the war for too many former Anglican clergy to accept that American Independence was something to be thankful for. At the first General Convention of the Episcopal Church in 1789, all mention of Independence Day was removed from the Book of Common Prayer. Not until 1928 was Independence Day restored to the prayer book as a day of thanksgiving to be celebrated in the Episcopal Church, as it ought to have been.

And perhaps, if those who opposed the inclusion of these readings and collect had read them more deeply, they might not have been so opposed. For in these readings from the Word of God challenge us as Americans as much as they affirm us. As we rightfully give thanks for God's blessings on our country, we are reminded in Deuteronomy that as a people who regularly pledge "liberty and justice to all" that we are to provide justice for the powerless and the disadvantaged – the widow, the orphan and the stranger. For as Moses says to the people of Israel, "you were strangers in the land of Egypt." Those who know the history of Israel should see the parallel here. The Israelites were strangers who came to the land of Canaan, drove out the natives and accepted the land as God's gift. We drove out the natives and have accepted this land as a gift. Whenever you drive down 431 to Guntersville, know that you taking the same route that the Cherokee nation took on the Trail of Tears. This land is a gift to us that is now up to us to earn, by providing justice to the strangers among us.

If that isn't bracing enough, consider Jesus's word for us today: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Does that mean that we should just lie down before our enemies and let them have their way with us? In my humble opinion, no, it does not. This country has had to take up arms to defend itself, and others, against tyranny, oppression, and evil. But it does mean that our military victories, the battles and wars we take pride in having won, cannot have just been about making America the most powerful nation on earth, the biggest dog on the block. It is God's intention and purpose to bring all people together and to reconcile all enemies before his heavenly throne. Whatever blessings and triumphs God has given us over the past 234 years are only a part of God's plan to execute justice and reconciliation. And we Americans are called to use God's gifts to us for that purpose and no other.

If the reconciliation of all peoples seems a tall order, then start here at home. Some years ago, I had the honor of being befriended by a veteran of the 82nd Airborne Division, who had survived the jump behind German lines on D Day. Over a drink one night, I ventured into the issue of President Clinton. He muttered, "That's just politics." In other words, don't go there. What was he trying to say to me? I think that what he was trying to say was this: I didn't risk my life, and kill my fellow human beings, for conservatives or liberals, Republicans or Democrats. What I did, I did for all Americans. On this our 234th birthday, let us give thanks for the United States of America. Let us thank God for his many blessings to us. Let us pray for God's guidance through this difficult time of war and economic distress. But most of all, let us pray for the grace to earn God's gifts to us, with justice for all, and reconciliation with all.

Feast of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, June 29

2 Timothy 4:1-8
John 21:15-19

I'm a little late with the blog posting. But we did celebrate the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul last night at our Tuesday Eucharist. This day is not just about these two men, but specifically about the martyrdoms, which according to tradition occurred at the same time under the Emperor Nero in Rome. In life their relationship was complex. Peter tried to preserve unity between his fellow Jewish Christians and the Gentiles that Paul was bringing to faith in Christ. Sometimes for Peter that mean preserving Jewish customs that Paul considered oppressive to the Gentiles. And Paul was not shy about calling Peter out.

But in the end they found healing and reconciliation in, of all things, death. They were both executed for their witness to the Risen Christ. They both placed their trust in the God who brings new life out of death. Sadly, death is not something we only do once. All our disappointments feel like a little death. But with us in each little death is Jesus, who was crucified, and who shares our little deaths, so that we will share in his Resurrection, just as Peter and Paul share his Rising. So, let us not fear our little deaths, for out of them come little resurrections.

Sermon, Proper 8, Year C

That's some homecoming the word of God gives us today. With two-thirds of the story of Luke's Gospel left, the Son of God decides that he must die, and tells his wannabe followers that they will share his homelessness. There is perhaps no word that can give us such peace, or longing, as that word, "home." To be in that place where we can exhale, rest, relax, vegetate, feel safe: What more do we long for in this world than to be in that place where we are at ease and unguarded? But if that's how we conceive of "home," then home is an escape, a temporary respite, which we must always leave. Or it is some place that we imagine is better than where we are. Things always look better in our imagination. Wherever we are, so long as we are with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, there is our home.

And so, "Jesus fixed his face firmly towards Jerusalem," where he fully expected to die. Jerusalem was his home, of course. Remember when he was 12, and his parents couldn't find him in Jerusalem for three days, until they looked in the Temple. Remember his reply to their worries: "Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" So, when Jesus fixes his face firmly towards Jerusalem, he is coming home, to die. We're only a third of the way through the Gospel of Luke, and he's already given away the ending, and it's not quite what we would call a happy ending.

Luke's statement of Jesus's journey to Jerusalem is not meant to be taken literally. He still has a lot of teaching to do along the way. And Luke doesn't go to the trouble of detailing the exact path that Jesus takes toward Jerusalem. That's not the point. The point is that to get to the Resurrection and ascension, you have to go through the crucifixion. There's no short cut to the happy ending. Jesus's purpose is to die. And if we are to share in his Resurrection then we too must die our little deaths. Getting outbid for the car or house you wanted: not getting the job we want: not getting our way in the group when the group must decide something. But Jesus understands that all our daily deaths only bring us closer to our true home: eternal life with the risen Jesus wherever we are in this world, and in the next. Whatever disappointments meet us on our way must not keep our faces from being firmly fixed towards Jerusalem.

Of course, not everyone gets it. Some imagine that to follow the Messiah, the heir to King David's throne, is the guarantee of an easy life of privilege. "I will follow you wherever you go," an over-eager wannabe disciple tells Jesus. Really, Jesus says. You realize, don't you, that if you come with me, you'll be in worse shape than a fox or a bird. At least they have a home. You won't have one with me. But then again, floods can drown the fox in his hole, and winds can blow down the trees in which the birds make their nests. So you can cling to your flimsy shelter. Or you can follow me, knowing that by the world's standard you will be homeless. But in truth you will be home wherever you go; because wherever you go, I will be with you, on the way to the everlasting home that is waiting for us.

So here we all are, home, at least for this morning. Here we all are, our separate journeys converging here at this moment, because we all have been blessed to call Christ Church in Albertville our church home. Some of us have gone on to make homes elsewhere. For some of us, this is our current home. But wherever we have gone, we have not needed holes or nests. We have had Jesus, who has no place to lay his head and is able to walk alongside us wherever we go. And so here we are, brothers and sisters in Christ; and so we will always be wherever we go. And wherever we go, Christ Church will always go. And so we will go, until we arrive at our own Jerusalem, and our own Resurrection. And waiting for us will be the homeless Son of God, who has always been with us. Then, we will be home, forever.

The Birth of John the Baptist

The Birth of John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24 since, according to the Gospel of Luke, Elizabeth became pregnant six months before Mary. Thus, we celebrate John's birth six months before Jesus's. The following comes from the web site of James Kiefer, who has written short biographical meditations on the saints in the Christian calendar:

When John had been in prison for a while, he sent some of his followers to Jesus to ask, "Are you he that is to come, or is there another?" (Matthew 11:2-14) One way of understanding the question is as follows: "It was revealed to me that you are Israel's promised deliverer, and when I heard this, I rejoiced. I expected you to drive out Herod and the Romans, and rebuild the kingdom of David. But here I sit in prison, and there is no deliverance in sight? Perhaps I am ahead of schedule, and you are going to throw out the Romans next year. Perhaps I have misunderstood, and you have a different mission, and the Romans bit will be done by someone else. Please let me know what is happening."

Jesus replied by telling the messengers, "Go back to John, and tell him what you have seen, the miracles of healing and other miracles, and say, 'Blessed is he who does not lose faith in me.'" He then told the crowds: "John is a prophet and more than a prophet. He is the one spoken of in Malachi 3:1, the messenger who comes to prepare the way of the LORD. No man born of woman is greater than John, but the least in the Kingdom of God is greater than John."

This has commonly been understood to mean that John represents the climax of the long tradition of Jewish prophets looking forward to the promised deliverance, but that the deliverance itself is a greater thing. John is the climax of the Law. He lives in the wilderness, a life with no frills where food and clothing are concerned. He has renounced the joys of family life, and dedicated himself completely to his mission of preaching, of calling people to an observance of the law, to ordinary standards of virtue. In terms of natural goodness, no one is better than John. But he represents Law, not Grace. Among men born of woman, among the once-born, he has no superior. But anyone who has been born anew in the kingdom of God has something better than what John symbolizes. (Note that to say that John symbolizes something short of the Kingdom is not to say that John is himself excluded from the Kingdom.)

Daily Office Meditation: Matthew 19:13-22

"Jesus said, 'if you want to be complete, go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come follow me.'" (Matt. 19:21).

Jesus doesn't demand error-free perfection of us. And membership in the kingdom of heaven isn't something that you invest in. It is a lifelong process of completing ourselves as children of God, open to his loving will for us. Sometimes we take two steps forward. Sometimes, it may feel like we've taken three steps back. But it's all part of the process of completion. And with us every step of the way is Jesus, hugging us with the Holy Spirit when we go forward, taking our hand on the steps back. Do you want to be complete? Put one foot in front of the other. And take each other's hand.

Sermon, Proper 7, Year C, June 20, 2010

"For in Christ you are all children of God, through trust" (Galatians 3:26)

Based on the radio and TV ads I've seen and heard over the years, there is no restaurant that gears up for Father's Day like the Outback steakhouse. But I haven't heard their famous slogan for awhile now: "No Rules, Just Right." According to Outback, the "No-Rules" approach empowers employees to do whatever it takes to make a customer happy. At least one pastor doesn't like that slogan. On the Internet, he fulminated about the message that Outback's slogan sent about the lack of rules. Of course there are rules, he said, the rules of God. Of course, it's really just an ad slogan, a slogan that Outback seems to have tired of.

And if truth be told, that Outback slogan is not that far from the truth, as Paul has been trying to explain it to the Galatians. To catch everybody up from last Sunday's sermon, Paul has been arguing with Gentile and Jewish Christians about the proper relationship between "the Law" and Faith; or in other words, the proper relationship between rules and trust. Paul preached that the old rules about circumcision and "unclean" foods must not be allowed to stand in the way of all people, Jews and Gentiles, becoming members of the same family in Jesus Christ.

So does that mean that Outback is right? Are there no rules, just right, in the church? Two thousand years later, I hardly think we've gotten rid of all the rules: maybe not as many as there used to be. But given that we're Episcopalians, I suspect that there are those who think that there are not enough rules and others who think there are still too many. Coming back to Paul's argument with the Galatians, what is the purpose of rules? "The Law," Paul argues, was our "disciplinarian." Literally, the Law was our "boy-leader," our combined tutor and nanny. The rules of the Law of Moses were there to show us what life with God is supposed to be like. But every teacher will tell you that you can show people how to do something all you want. But until the student does it herself, then that which is taught can't be learned.

And anybody who actually plods through the Old Testament knows that knowing the rules was never enough in the end for God's chosen people, Israel. And it's not enough for us. So, Paul argues, the Law was our tutor "until faith came." Does he mean another set of rules and doctrines that we must add to our system of beliefs, so that by our belief we can earn eternal life? If that's what we think Paul means by "faith," then the warning of the 18th-century theologian William Law can be applied to us: "Suppose one man to rely on his own faith and another to rely on his own works, then the faith of the one and the works of the other are equally the same worthless filthy rags." It was not our faith that came. It was Faith that came. It was a man who came. It was Jesus Christ who came.

Faith and trust are different words for the same concept. Jesus spent his life here on Earth trusting his Father, even to the cross. Through every unexpected twist and turn, through every conflict and danger, Jesus trusted his Father. It is by his trust that the risen Jesus lives with us, and through him that God lives with us. That is what Paul implores the Galatians to do; to trust that they are now children of God, in Christ, through trust. And so it is not by rules that a mature family of God is governed, but by trust: trust that in Christ all shall be well. And so in Christ we can trust that whatever cross we bear at the moment is but a momentary passage to Resurrection. And so in Christ we can trust that whatever decisions we have to make, God is the ultimate decider, and his decisions can only be good for us.

We don't know if Paul won the argument in Galatia. He lost an earlier version of the same argument in Antioch, which he retells in this letter. He would make the same argument later in his letter to the Romans. A later letter from the Bishop of Rome implies that it was by "jealousy" within the Church that Paul was handed over to the Roman authority for his execution. Perhaps he lost the argument in his own lifetime. But it is Paul's letters that we read today as the inspired word of God. Arguments come and arguments go. But the trust of Jesus Christ remains always, as does our adoption as children of God. No rule is more right than that.