The 7th Sunday after Pentecost: Already--Not Yet

This homily was based on Galatians 6: 7-16 and Luke 10: 1-11, 16-20.

On this holiday weekend we celebrate the beginning of the creation of our form of government. We broke away from a colonial system and tried something new. Enlightened men with property thought they could make better decisions about how to govern themselves than a distant monarch and a parliament in which they had no voice. We have broadened the franchise over these past 240 years to make this country one which allows a diversity of voices to govern.  Yet it becomes clear, as we listen to the political rhetoric of this election season, that we have a ways to go yet in creating a “more perfect union” to secure “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” for all people in our country.

As we hear the readings today from Paul’s letter to the Galatians and Luke’s gospel, we might well ask what could they possibly say to us in our world today. Do we think much about circumcision or lack of it? How about corrupted flesh? Does being able to tread on snakes and scorpions sound like something we’d be interested in? Do we understand salvation as our names being written in heaven?

To find out what we need to gain from our scripture readings today in 21^st century America, I believe we need to go in more deeply--past the issues and imagery of 1^st century Palestine and the early church.

Both Paul and Luke view the good news of Jesus Christ as inclusive and expansive. When Paul spoke about “a new creation,” I believe he saw the Jesus movement as making irrelevant previous religious differences that kept people apart. If these differences no longer matter since Jesus has come among us, we can be reconciled with one another. We no longer need to see ourselves as superior to any other person. We can be reconciled to who we really are—beloved by God. Then in this reconciled state we can be open to seeing God’s work in our lives and in the world.

But you might say, how real can this reconciliation when there seem to be people who continue to point out others as different and bad. For example, the Southern Poverty Law Center recently collected 5,000 comments from educators as part of their Teaching Tolerance project. Two-thirds of the teachers report that students who are immigrants, children of immigrants, and Muslim, have expressed fears or concerns about what may happen to them or their families after the election in November. The rhetoric of hate in our political campaign has caused these children to suffer.

There’s an expression to describe the presence, yet absence, of this new creation: “already, not yet.” By his life, death and resurrection and through his teaching, Jesus established that new creation some call the reign or kingdom of God. That’s the “already.” But in Luke’s gospel we see Jesus prepared the seventy followers he sent out to expect rejection when they sought to proclaim God’s reign of peace and healing.  That’s the “not yet” part. In the end as followers of Jesus we believe that God’s love will win and God’s peace with justice will triumph in the fully realized “new creation”—just not yet.

Our country is a bit like that as well. At the very beginning our founders held out the ideal of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” protected by citizens participating in a representative form of government. But the reality of our political process and the lives of many of us stray far from the ideal. Nevertheless, we do not give up hope. As Martin Luther King said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”  As Episcopalians we pledge to participate in that “bending.” When we renew our baptismal vows, we promise to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”

As we look more deeply into how Luke set the story of the mission of the seventy, we again see inclusiveness and expansiveness. Luke puts this story in the midst of a travel narrative when Jesus is traveling through Samaria toward Jerusalem. He sent the seventy in pairs to all the towns where he planned to go. He didn’t only send them to a few friendly places, but he sent them to many places, even where they might encounter opposition. They were to take the message of God’s peace everywhere they traveled. When they found a place that welcomed their message and the healing they performed, they were not to try to improve their accommodations, but to accept what they were offered. Their trust in God and their humble approach to their mission enabled them to reveal the in-breaking of God’s reign.

As we celebrate our country’s founding this weekend, let us remember that the ideals expressed by the Declaration of Independence continue to be a work in progress. Our commitment as citizens to those ideals and our commitment as Christians to work toward God’s reign of peace with justice may well overlap. In both commitments we should live and act with a humility that comes from trusting that God’s reign of peace with justice will indeed result in all creation—including sinful humanity—being reconciled and thus becoming “new.”

The 6th Sunday of Easter - Discipleship as Co-participation?

“Will you come and follow me/If I but call your name?
Will you go where you don't know/And never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown?/Will you let my name be known,
Will you let my life be grown/In you and you in me?”

         The words of this song written by John Bell for the Iona community in Scotland call us into Christian discipleship.  They describe the sort of call Jesus made to his very first disciples.  They inquire about a willingness to prepare for the tasking of “giving away” our faith—something we are called to do as disciples.

The song continues:

“Will you leave yourself behind/If I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind/And never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare/Should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer pray’r/In you and you in me?

“Will you let the blinded see/If I but call your name?
Will you set the pris’ners free/And never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean,/And do such as this unseen,
And admit to what I mean/In you and you in me?”

Our gospel reading today—from the beginning of the 5^th chapter of John’s gospel—gives us an example of the sort of work we may summoned to do as followers of Jesus.  There are three aspects of this story of the healing of the man who had been ill for 38 years which can apply to circumstances when we try to help others in Jesus’ name.

First, Jesus showed the man respect.  Jesus’ question, “Do you wish to be made well?,” offered the man an opening to express what he was thinking and feeling.  Today we would say Jesus was giving the man “agency.”  The man now had the opportunity to be an active part of what was about to happen.

Second, the man’s reply depicts someone having no hope and resigned to his fate.  Indeed the man showed a lack of “agency.”  His reply attributed his lack of access to what others have done to get to the healing water which prevented him from getting to it, “ . . . while I am making my way, someone else steps down in front of me.”

Finally, Jesus’s words offered the man healing—healing that could come as the man actively responded to those words—healing that would go against the tradition and commandment of “no work” on the sabbath.  Both Jesus and the man surely “risked the hostile state” by this man becoming well, whole and restored to his former state--on the sabbath. 

Richard Rohr, a Roman Catholic priest who practices a contemplative life style, speaks about our becoming “co-participants” in what God is doing to create God’s reign now. This man who had been ill for 38 years became of “co-participant” with Jesus’ did that day.  He responded in faith and with hope when he took up his mat and walked away.

And we can also be “co-participants” with God in the work which draws us closer step-by-step to God’s reign.  This reign will be marked by healing for all, that is, every person becoming whole and becoming their true selves.

This “co-participation” usually will not come easily.  We have to face our own attitudes and those of others:

o   Can we see those we believe may need our help as worthy of our respect?

o   Can we see how they might gain “agency” to make a difference in their situations?

o   Will we support their doing so? 

o   Are we willing to allow ourselves to be vulnerable to criticism and risk what others may think of us when we act or take a stand?

o   Are we willing, with God’s help of course, to offer ourselves fully?

“Will you leave yourself behind/If I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind/And never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare/Should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer pray’r/In you and you in me?

“Will you let the blinded see/If I but call your name?
Will you set the pris’ners free/And never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean,/And do such as this unseen,
And admit to what I mean/In you and you in me.”

“The Summons” © 1987, Iona Community, GIA Publications, Inc. agent

The 5th Sunday of Easter - Don't Hinder God

In this post-modern world--a world where we no longer believe that human civilization is continually improving--we find that people of good will and a strong faith in Jesus Christ do not agree on how social issues should be addressed.  How can this be? Shouldn't we be able to consult the Word of God and all come down at the same place? Apparently not.

And we shouldn't be surprised at this state of affairs either.  Our reading from the Book of Acts about Peter's vision in the city of Joppa deals with the conflict between certain religious practices and a different way of looking at scripture and tradition.

This is a small portion of the Jewish dietary laws from the 11th chapter of Leviticus: "Now the LORD spoke to Moses and Aaron, saying to them, 'Speak to the children of Israel, saying, "These are the animals which you may eat among all the animals that are on the earth: Among the animals, whatever divides the hoof, having cloven hooves and chewing the cud; that you may eat. Nevertheless these you shall not eat among those that chew the cud or those that have cloven hooves: the camel, because it chews the cud but does not have cloven hooves, is unclean to you; the rock hyrax, because it chews the cud but does not have cloven hooves, is unclean to you; the hare, because it chews the cud but does not have cloven hooves, is unclean to you; and the swine, though it divides the hoof, having cloven hooves, yet does not chew the cud, is unclean to you. Their flesh you shall not eat, and their carcasses you shall not touch. They are unclean to you.'"

The dietary laws of Leviticus and the Jewish tradition of not sharing a meal with Gentiles who did not have to observe such laws put Peter's belief that he was to share the good news of Jesus Christ with all people under great tension.  How far did Christians who came from the Jewish faith have to go from their usual practices in order to accommodate Gentiles? 

At the time depicted in our reading from the Book of Acts Peter believes his encounter with God in the vision of the sheet with "unclean animals" was leading him to set Christ against the religious and cultural norms of the Judaism. Being a faithful Christian meant acting in a way that would bring a person into conflict with certain cultural practices.  Christians would be acting in a way that set themselves apart--which meant they, like Jesus, might expose themselves to the wrath of those with power.

We are no longer living in the world of first century Palestine controlled by the Roman Empire.  We are not breaking away from mainstream Judaism to practice our faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the Son of God.  Yet, concern about cultural norms and our response to them as people of faith continues to this day

If any of us today is asked to describe the culture in which we live, we may well come up with as many different answers as there are people in this room.  However, the question remains: how will we practice our faith in the world--in the community--in the family--where we live?  I believe our readings today are directing us not to "circle the wagons."  There may be something "new" to which God may be guiding us.

Even more than today, people in the first century disliked change. Tradition had great value; something new could not be trusted. Yet Peter insisted he now finally understood what God wanted.  Here is what he said: "The Spirit told me to go with them [the Gentiles from Caesarea] and not to make a distinction between them and us . . . And as I began to speak, the Holy Spirit fell on them [the Gentile household which Peter had entered] just as it had on us at the beginning . . . If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in The Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?"

All these were part of Peter's understanding about this new approach: an unexpected vision, listening to God's leading through the power of the Holy Spirit, and not rejecting the request of people he might have dismissed as outside God's blessing.  Peter's example enacts what Jesus taught the disciples after Judas had left the last supper: "Just as I have loved you, so you should love one another."

Jesus called this the "new commandment," because it created a community based—not primarily on holiness, but on agape—a love that empties us of selfishness and propels us into community where we can be free to accept even those folks who may be quite different from us. How might we put Peter's example into practice today?  When we should no longer make a distinction between “them” and “us”? And to whom can we offer in unselfish love in order to build a stronger community among us?  Let us ponder these questions as we consider how we—as followers of Jesus Christ—should respond to the cultures (both local and world-wide) in which we live.

The 3rd Sunday of Easter - Expectation and Surprise

Sometimes our expectations are confirmed by our experiences and sometimes they aren't.  For many Mondays when I was babysitting, I placed my then 18-month-old grandson in his crib for an afternoon nap.  Then I expected him to be in the crib drifting off to sleep. When the nap was over he would call for me, and I would come upstairs to pick him up. Then one Monday, to my surprise, he repeated his newly learned skill of climbing out of the crib before I had even made it down the stairs!

Our gospel readings for Easter Sunday, last Sunday, and today told stories of expectations and experiences full of surprise: Mary Magdalene thinking the tomb would have Jesus' body, Thomas not trusting what the other disciples told him about seeing Jesus, and finally today Peter, the beloved disciple and some other disciples going out in the evening to fish and encountering the risen Christ.

I believe the gospel writer chose the format of expectation--or lack of expectation-- and surprise to describe these encounters, because he saw this as the way God reveals God's self.

Within the story we heard this morning the risen Christ and Peter engage in a conversation that Peter probably never expected to happen. After finding Jesus' tomb empty, he and the beloved disciple went home.  And we remember that Peter had denied that he had been Jesus' companion the night before Jesus' crucifixion.

Today's gospel reading tells us Peter decided to go fishing and some of his fellow disciples decided to go with him.  Jesus—standing on the shore—makes a suggestion that the disciples, who have nothing to show for their night's work. They might catch some fish, he says, if they cast their net on the other side of the boat.  The beloved disciple finally recognizes the risen Christ, and Peter reacts by jumping into the water to reach the shore first. The gospel writer doesn't report any immediate response to Peter by Christ until he and all the disciples had eaten the breakfast of bread and broiled fish.

The gospel writer describes the disciples' expectations in that moment: "Now none of the disciples dared to ask him 'Who are you?' because they knew it was the Lord." But what of Peter?  What were his expectations?

Whatever they were, Peter's experience of hearing Christ's questions and answering them profoundly affected the rest of his life.  No more turning away for home; no more checking out how his old occupation might work out if he tried it again.  His new vocation involves caring for those who will follow "The Way," as we heard it called in the account of St. Paul's conversion—and to follow Jesus in the way of the cross.

The story we heard from the Book of Acts about Saul's expectations and his experience on the road to Damascus may be the most clear example ever of God's revealing God's self to someone who seemed totally unprepared for that revelation. Where Peter had been with Jesus for his entire ministry, Paul had been an enemy.  A religiously educated man, Paul did probably understand Jesus' messages to the religious authorities: loving God meant discovering God in serving the outcasts of society, and loving God meant putting people before the rules while keeping the spirit of the rules to the nth degree.  But he rejected (as blasphemy) Jesus as the long-expected Messiah.

I doubt if Paul ever expected to experience God, in following the way of the risen Christ. I doubt if he ever expected to lead Gentiles to faith in the risen Christ, but his experience on the Damascus road left him but one choice--to follow.

What are our expectations this morning? We will have the opportunity to receive Holy Communion when Christ has told us he will be with us.  We will have the opportunity to greet members of our community when we pass the peace of Christ and when we share coffee (and breakfast) with them. We will return to our homes . . . perhaps talk with family or neighbors . . . maybe chat with the check-out person at the grocery store.

Do we expect to experience Christ's presence among us at all these times?  Do we hope to know "the peace of the Lord"?  Do we trust that in all these moments we will find we are being cared for within our family or community--even when we come from various perspectives and points of view?

I believe that bidden or unbidden the Holy One is always present with us.  We may expect to find the Holy One in “holy” moments such when we pray and when we receive communion.  But in ordinary moments, at unexpected times, we may well encounter the Risen Christ—and find ourselves changed by that experience.