First let me acknowledge that none of what I am about to tell you is original. I owe it all to three of my brothers in Christ, Paul, Stan, and Jerry.
Jerry was the bishop who saw me through from my first tentative expression of a desire to serve as a priest, to my ordination to the diaconate, my ordination to the priesthood, and most importantly to my marriage with Sarah. He showed me how to serve, and to aspire to be the servant of many. So, thanks to Jerry.
Stan I last saw at his wedding, in the Mount Hermon chapel at a summer camp in the Santa Cruz Mountains, where he served as leader of outdoor education programs. When I first met him, he was organizing a Sierra Club chapter at our high school, and getting us together to celebrate Earth Day, April 22, 1970. He showed me the importance of Christian faith in the stewardship of the earth and showed ways to be of service there. So, thanks to Stan.
Paul – whom I will speak about for a bit longer than I did of the others – I last saw when I was a seminarian at St. Anselm’s, Lafayette, California, where he belonged. And when I realized who he was, I told him two stories – about himself. Which I will tell you now, he shrugged off – but which were great teaching moments for me. I had seen him first on New Year’s Eve 1968 when he was regional administrator of the Federal Water Pollution Control Administration (FWPCA) in the San Francisco area; he’d pulled together a conference that brought into one room people from all sides concerned with conservation of natural resources, and, a new word – ecology. There they were polluters and protesters alike – complete with jerks from the home office and guerilla theater acts. There was room for all of us under that one roof, and we got a chance to talk, and to learn. (I was a Boy Scout – so conservation was the word that got me in the room.)
I met Paul again – after high school and before seminary – when I was working for a summer in a U.S. civil service job, as file boy for the EPA office in San Francisco.
One day at the end of summer there was an unusual amount of activity among my senior clerks & typists: it was the end of the fiscal year and so the deadlines for getting out some grant letters.
They were all working feverishly against the deadline, as was the head of our division and her assistant. The middle managers all left at 5 – leaving the clerical staff and the senior managers to finish the job by midnight, when a postal clerk would meet us outside the post office to take our mail in just before the deadline.
We worked away, typing and photocopying, and addressing and labeling, into the hours of the evening – until all the copy machines on the floor gave up the ghost.
I know what to do! someone said. We can use the big machine in the copy room downstairs.
Usually it had a team of operators running it full time, but they had gone home, at 5, too. And the door was now locked.
I know what to do! someone said. We can break in through the regional administrator’s office next door.
And so they went downstairs –
-- and the door was open, and the light was on, and there, working late, was the head of the whole agency for the Western United States. The big boss. Paul.
What’s going on? He found out – and got up from behind his desk and ran the copy machine himself until the work was all done and the letters were in the mail and the deadline was met.
I told him, when I saw him those years later in Lafayette, that he had set an example of leadership for me, twice. Gathering the people together under one roof, so they could talk to each other. And getting in there and doing what needed to be done, setting an example and pitching in.
Aaaah, he waved it away. No big deal.
But still I think of Paul when I think of servant leadership.
Maybe there is some one you think of, too.
Of course. We turn from these modest examples of service to a story, a dramatic enactment, of true humility.
It had been a pretty good week, so far, for the disciples. They’d seen last Sunday the Romans shown up at their own game – as Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg told us in their book, The Last Week, the imperial progress of Pilate and his soldiers into Jerusalem was easily made ironic by the same-time scene of their Jesus entering the City on a donkey’s colt, saluted with palm branches, his path paved by overcoats.
This is real leadership, they seemed to say: to come not as judge but as savior, to be one of the people not their overlord.
And then he’d shown them up again, taking up a whip of cords and driving the moneychangers from the Temple. All that, and now, a gathering in an upper room, a meal together – a celebration of the passing over of Israel in Egypt and a hope for similar deliverance in the very near future, from Rome.
More than Rome was at stake, however. And the triumph would not be of this world: it would come only at the end of a long hard road that led to a cross – and only then beyond.
Jesus – the Messiah, as they had begun to think of him; Christ, the King of Kings – now we were at table with him; surely now we were in our element.
And then, he shows them what real leadership means: before he even takes the bread to give thanks and break it, before he takes the cup and shares it, he takes upon himself something that would surprise Moses, shepherd as he was, and even Abraham, the host of the angels. He gets up from his place at the table, and takes on the role of a servant. He does what only the lowest slave in the household would ordinarily do: he washes their feet.
They’d come a long way from Galilee, on foot mostly likely, on dusty roads, through crowds and countryside, village and town. This was no mere demonstration – it was real work. And Jesus does it. He washes their feet.
And so before he takes on that deeper humiliation we will recall tomorrow, he did what was ordinary, and uncelebrated: he served. And he still does.
And he invites us to join him, in his service.
JRL+
Maundy Thursday
Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Almighty Father, whose dear Son, on the night before he suffered, instituted the Sacrament of his Body and Blood: Mercifully grant that we may receive it thankfully in remembrance of Jesus Christ our Lord, who in these holy mysteries gives us a pledge of eternal life; and who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
May I speak in the Name of the Son,
in the Power of the Holy Spirit,
to the Glory of God the Father. AMEN.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Saturday, March 15, 2008
the dream is ended
On the last page of the last chapter of his last book for children, C. S. Lewis wrote:
“The dream is ended: this is the morning…” the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures…had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
***
This is not the end of the story. It is only the end of the beginning.
The story began, in this earthly realm, 93 years ago. Allison Morrison lived a long and full life, a memorable one, with memories left behind that we can begin to share today, as you meet each other and hear each other’s stories – of Allison getting together with folks on Friday mornings at Pancake Haus, of Rob and Allison anchoring their pew at the 8 o’clock services, of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This is the part of the story that we know: but the story continues beyond our knowing, as Allison is received where she is known best of all, in the presence of God.
For each of us this life is only the beginning: death is not the end: life, in Christ, goes on into eternity.
We can share in the presence of Christ in this community together, in Eucharist: Allison and all those who have gone before us, share in that communion, too: in the presence of the Lord.
“Our journey,” Archbishop Sentamu has preached, “is towards oneness with God. As we journey, our calling is to make manifest to everyone the compassionate face of God made visible in Jesus Christ.”
We follow Jesus. We follow him to life in the presence of God. Someday like Allison each one of us will see him face to face. When that day comes, may we be like Peter, who, hearing on Easter morning that Jesus was alive, ran to the tomb to greet his risen Lord. In the meantime, may we run or walk, may we journey, as if Jesus were walking beside us – his presence a forgone conclusion.
“Jesus is in fact the presence of God’s truth and God’s life in the world,” Lesslie Newbigin writes, “and to know the Father means to follow the way which Jesus is, and which he has opened” for us, through the veil between this life and the next, “by his living, his dying, and his rising from the dead.”
The presence of God, the forgiveness of God, the grace of God, are all around us and present to us. It is a matter of us becoming present to Him.
Quite often we may feel his absence, as if he were gone. But even at those times he is right beside us, grieving with us in our sorrow and despair.
Sometimes we may forget how he sees us: the Lord sees the person he made and that he loves. He sees each of us in aspiration – in the Spirit – and sees the child of God within us. However distorted that image may seem to be, from time to time, it is there, shining behind the clouds of sin and desire, of folly and disease, and on the day that the Lord greets us, as he now greets Allison, we will shine with the reflected light of God’s glory and his loving greeting to us.
“Come my child, my beloved. Come home to the place I have made for you. Come to the table – and sit at the banquet – and rejoice in the presence and the plenty of God.”
May God in his grace abundantly enfold you, bringing you into his peace. Amen.
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, WA
March 15, 2008
Memorial Service for
Allison Morrison (October 11, 1915 – February 15, 2008)
Lamentations 3:22-26, 31-33
Psalm 121
Revelation 21:2-7
Psalm 106:1-5
John 14:1-6
(C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, the last chapter, the last page.)
(Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come, Eerdmans, 1982, p. 182)
John Sentamu, Archbishop of York, “We journey towards oneness with God“, Monday 12 February 2007
Service of commemoration of the 30th anniversary of the martyrdom of Janani Luwum at Westminster Abbey, London
(http://www.archbishopofyork.org/261)
May I speak in the Name of the Son, in the Power of the Holy Spirit, to the Glory of God the Father. AMEN.
“The dream is ended: this is the morning…” the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures…had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
***
This is not the end of the story. It is only the end of the beginning.
The story began, in this earthly realm, 93 years ago. Allison Morrison lived a long and full life, a memorable one, with memories left behind that we can begin to share today, as you meet each other and hear each other’s stories – of Allison getting together with folks on Friday mornings at Pancake Haus, of Rob and Allison anchoring their pew at the 8 o’clock services, of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This is the part of the story that we know: but the story continues beyond our knowing, as Allison is received where she is known best of all, in the presence of God.
For each of us this life is only the beginning: death is not the end: life, in Christ, goes on into eternity.
We can share in the presence of Christ in this community together, in Eucharist: Allison and all those who have gone before us, share in that communion, too: in the presence of the Lord.
“Our journey,” Archbishop Sentamu has preached, “is towards oneness with God. As we journey, our calling is to make manifest to everyone the compassionate face of God made visible in Jesus Christ.”
We follow Jesus. We follow him to life in the presence of God. Someday like Allison each one of us will see him face to face. When that day comes, may we be like Peter, who, hearing on Easter morning that Jesus was alive, ran to the tomb to greet his risen Lord. In the meantime, may we run or walk, may we journey, as if Jesus were walking beside us – his presence a forgone conclusion.
“Jesus is in fact the presence of God’s truth and God’s life in the world,” Lesslie Newbigin writes, “and to know the Father means to follow the way which Jesus is, and which he has opened” for us, through the veil between this life and the next, “by his living, his dying, and his rising from the dead.”
The presence of God, the forgiveness of God, the grace of God, are all around us and present to us. It is a matter of us becoming present to Him.
Quite often we may feel his absence, as if he were gone. But even at those times he is right beside us, grieving with us in our sorrow and despair.
Sometimes we may forget how he sees us: the Lord sees the person he made and that he loves. He sees each of us in aspiration – in the Spirit – and sees the child of God within us. However distorted that image may seem to be, from time to time, it is there, shining behind the clouds of sin and desire, of folly and disease, and on the day that the Lord greets us, as he now greets Allison, we will shine with the reflected light of God’s glory and his loving greeting to us.
“Come my child, my beloved. Come home to the place I have made for you. Come to the table – and sit at the banquet – and rejoice in the presence and the plenty of God.”
May God in his grace abundantly enfold you, bringing you into his peace. Amen.
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, WA
March 15, 2008
Memorial Service for
Allison Morrison (October 11, 1915 – February 15, 2008)
Lamentations 3:22-26, 31-33
Psalm 121
Revelation 21:2-7
Psalm 106:1-5
John 14:1-6
(C. S. Lewis, The Last Battle, the last chapter, the last page.)
(Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come, Eerdmans, 1982, p. 182)
John Sentamu, Archbishop of York, “We journey towards oneness with God“, Monday 12 February 2007
Service of commemoration of the 30th anniversary of the martyrdom of Janani Luwum at Westminster Abbey, London
(http://www.archbishopofyork.org/261)
May I speak in the Name of the Son, in the Power of the Holy Spirit, to the Glory of God the Father. AMEN.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
dry bones
In the name of the God who lives, who was, who is, and who is coming...
Imagine a deserted wilderness, an ancient battleground: now desolate, picked over, even the scavengers long fled. It is a wasteland, occupied only by old bones of the once living… It could be Stalingrad, Chancellorsville, or a village in Iraq. It is Israel. Once proud, inheritor of David’s realm, conquered by Joshua, the Promised Land: now desert. The Babylonian army has crushed their hopes – they are in Exile, now, by the rivers of Babylon, and their own land lies discarded, bleak.
What could possibly revive their hopes? What, indeed, but the word of God? The word of Life, which brought forth upon the earth bread, the fruit of toil, all the produce of the garden, all that is, all that we have – Life itself. This is the voice that comes to the prophet Ezekiel.
Breathe – breath the breath of God. And prophesy: and the old bones come to life. Israel returns to the Promised Land. And builds anew. The people return; the land begins to recover, to quicken with new life. Laughter can be heard in the streets, once empty, now full of life, and hope, and light. What could revive the people of God – but the Word of God?
Out of the depths I call – this is the cry of the lost, the abandoned; the desperate soul, in a desert of its own: a prison ward, a hospital cell; a place of abandonment. There is nothing to bargain with.
The soul waits, alone – bereft of any hope … but the original hope, the origin of hope, the Creator and Redeemer and Sanctifier of souls. Breathe on me, the soul cries. Make me live, take me out of this desolate place. And God responds – lifting me beyond myself, into a scene beyond dreams.
Jesus has left Jerusalem, where it is dangerous. Hot. They’re after him, now. And so he has cooled off, gone across the Jordan to a quiet place.
And then the word comes after him – from that beloved village, that home where he is at home, where Martha and Mary and Lazarus are, tragic news, and desperation: Lazarus is dying.
Dare he risk it? Can he make it to his friend’s side, in time, before the cops come and drag him away?
He waits.
He waits.
It is not for anything less than the glory of God that he has come, and nothing less will bring him forth, to risk it, to go where certain exposure could take him to his own death. But Lazarus is dying.
He goes quietly. Before he can even get to the village, Martha comes out to greet him – and a crowd follows her.
No entrance through the back door, no slipping in and out – this must happen in full view of the people, of the Jews of Jerusalem: the authorities will hear of it.
Where were you? You could have saved him. I will take you to him.
Jesus wept.
And then, he is there. He is with us. And he brings more than consolation, more than revival: he brings the word of Life. He is Life, and Resurrection, and in Him the fullness of God is pleased to dwell.
And he says the word – as simple as, let there be light. He says,
Bring him out.
And they do – and the dead walks. The forgotten man lives, and is restored to his home.
This is the resuscitation of a corpse, not the resurrection of the last day. Lazarus is not the first-born of the dead, but the last and most wonderful and most dangerous Sign Jesus performs before the powers of the world crush him and bring him down to his death, to his own place of desolation (and from which he will rise to God’s glory).
For now the glory of God is restoration – to see hope once abandoned live again, to see a beloved brother restored to his sisters.
Soon enough a greater miracle will come – Jesus will be betrayed to his own death, and beyond it will come… (the unexpected morning, the dawn of Easter.)
Jesus performs this sign, this miracle: and the cost is his life. Now he’s torn it – now they will meet in council to dispose of this problem.
And he knows it – he knows it. And this too will be to the glory of God. Because beyond their planning, beyond their imagining, is a scene unimaginable to the eyes of the world-bound: the vision of plenty, of abundance, life in God’s new world, in his very presence.
For beyond death and even now God is present with us. And beyond this life we are present with him, no longer seeing through a glass darkly, but face to face.
This new life, this eternal life in the presence of God, does not wait for death or the second coming: it begins now, as God is present with us, in the midst of us… as he was in the dark valley, of the shadow of death, as he was with Ezekiel in the valley of bones, as he is with the prisoner and the abandoned and the desolate, ...
...as he was with Jesus and Lazarus at the side of the tomb unwrapping the grave clothes, hurry – hurry! As Martha waits to embrace her brother, all hope abandoned now all disbelief exchanged for joy.
Mary waits; she has seen it. And perhaps she sees beyond, too: to a day when she will see another beloved one emerge from the grave.
He is with her. He is her master. He is ours. And she waits – as we do – for the day beyond Good Friday, the day of the resurrection, the day when all hope will be transformed in the joy of Easter morning.
Be with us now, Lord, in the breaking of the bread. Breathe on it, and us, that you may be present with us and we with you. Even now.
Come, Lord, restore, renew, & revive your people. Amen.
+
THE BLESSING
May you find in Christ crucified
a strength in times of darkness,
a support in times of weakness,
and the assurance of eternal life,
and the blessing of God almighty,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, rest upon you now,
and remain always with you. Amen.
(adapted from David Adam, Clouds and Glory)
Lent V Year A
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
Psalm 130
David Adam, Clouds and Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year A (London: SPCK, 2000)
Fred B. Craddock, John H. Hayes, Carl R. Holladay, Gene M. Tucker,
Preaching Through the Christian Year: Year A (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1992)
Barbara Crafton, "If Christ Were Here/Hope in the Dry Bones", The Almost Daily eMo, Geranium Farm
http://www.geraniumfarm.org/dailyemo.cfm?Emo=962
Scott M. Lewis, S.J., New Collegeville Bible Commentary: The Gospel According to John and the Johannine Letters (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2005)
Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come: An Exposition of the Fourth Gospel (Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1982)
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today: Reflections on the Readings of the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 2 (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre, 1999)
Mary Hinkle Shore, Herman C. Waetjen, Richard Eslinger, Melinda A. Quivik, New Proclamation: Year A, 2007-2008: Advent through Holy Week (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007)
Imagine a deserted wilderness, an ancient battleground: now desolate, picked over, even the scavengers long fled. It is a wasteland, occupied only by old bones of the once living… It could be Stalingrad, Chancellorsville, or a village in Iraq. It is Israel. Once proud, inheritor of David’s realm, conquered by Joshua, the Promised Land: now desert. The Babylonian army has crushed their hopes – they are in Exile, now, by the rivers of Babylon, and their own land lies discarded, bleak.
What could possibly revive their hopes? What, indeed, but the word of God? The word of Life, which brought forth upon the earth bread, the fruit of toil, all the produce of the garden, all that is, all that we have – Life itself. This is the voice that comes to the prophet Ezekiel.
Breathe – breath the breath of God. And prophesy: and the old bones come to life. Israel returns to the Promised Land. And builds anew. The people return; the land begins to recover, to quicken with new life. Laughter can be heard in the streets, once empty, now full of life, and hope, and light. What could revive the people of God – but the Word of God?
Out of the depths I call – this is the cry of the lost, the abandoned; the desperate soul, in a desert of its own: a prison ward, a hospital cell; a place of abandonment. There is nothing to bargain with.
The soul waits, alone – bereft of any hope … but the original hope, the origin of hope, the Creator and Redeemer and Sanctifier of souls. Breathe on me, the soul cries. Make me live, take me out of this desolate place. And God responds – lifting me beyond myself, into a scene beyond dreams.
Jesus has left Jerusalem, where it is dangerous. Hot. They’re after him, now. And so he has cooled off, gone across the Jordan to a quiet place.
And then the word comes after him – from that beloved village, that home where he is at home, where Martha and Mary and Lazarus are, tragic news, and desperation: Lazarus is dying.
Dare he risk it? Can he make it to his friend’s side, in time, before the cops come and drag him away?
He waits.
He waits.
It is not for anything less than the glory of God that he has come, and nothing less will bring him forth, to risk it, to go where certain exposure could take him to his own death. But Lazarus is dying.
He goes quietly. Before he can even get to the village, Martha comes out to greet him – and a crowd follows her.
No entrance through the back door, no slipping in and out – this must happen in full view of the people, of the Jews of Jerusalem: the authorities will hear of it.
Where were you? You could have saved him. I will take you to him.
Jesus wept.
And then, he is there. He is with us. And he brings more than consolation, more than revival: he brings the word of Life. He is Life, and Resurrection, and in Him the fullness of God is pleased to dwell.
And he says the word – as simple as, let there be light. He says,
Bring him out.
And they do – and the dead walks. The forgotten man lives, and is restored to his home.
This is the resuscitation of a corpse, not the resurrection of the last day. Lazarus is not the first-born of the dead, but the last and most wonderful and most dangerous Sign Jesus performs before the powers of the world crush him and bring him down to his death, to his own place of desolation (and from which he will rise to God’s glory).
For now the glory of God is restoration – to see hope once abandoned live again, to see a beloved brother restored to his sisters.
Soon enough a greater miracle will come – Jesus will be betrayed to his own death, and beyond it will come… (the unexpected morning, the dawn of Easter.)
Jesus performs this sign, this miracle: and the cost is his life. Now he’s torn it – now they will meet in council to dispose of this problem.
And he knows it – he knows it. And this too will be to the glory of God. Because beyond their planning, beyond their imagining, is a scene unimaginable to the eyes of the world-bound: the vision of plenty, of abundance, life in God’s new world, in his very presence.
For beyond death and even now God is present with us. And beyond this life we are present with him, no longer seeing through a glass darkly, but face to face.
This new life, this eternal life in the presence of God, does not wait for death or the second coming: it begins now, as God is present with us, in the midst of us… as he was in the dark valley, of the shadow of death, as he was with Ezekiel in the valley of bones, as he is with the prisoner and the abandoned and the desolate, ...
...as he was with Jesus and Lazarus at the side of the tomb unwrapping the grave clothes, hurry – hurry! As Martha waits to embrace her brother, all hope abandoned now all disbelief exchanged for joy.
Mary waits; she has seen it. And perhaps she sees beyond, too: to a day when she will see another beloved one emerge from the grave.
He is with her. He is her master. He is ours. And she waits – as we do – for the day beyond Good Friday, the day of the resurrection, the day when all hope will be transformed in the joy of Easter morning.
Be with us now, Lord, in the breaking of the bread. Breathe on it, and us, that you may be present with us and we with you. Even now.
Come, Lord, restore, renew, & revive your people. Amen.
+
THE BLESSING
May you find in Christ crucified
a strength in times of darkness,
a support in times of weakness,
and the assurance of eternal life,
and the blessing of God almighty,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, rest upon you now,
and remain always with you. Amen.
(adapted from David Adam, Clouds and Glory)
Lent V Year A
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
Psalm 130
David Adam, Clouds and Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year A (London: SPCK, 2000)
Fred B. Craddock, John H. Hayes, Carl R. Holladay, Gene M. Tucker,
Preaching Through the Christian Year: Year A (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1992)
Barbara Crafton, "If Christ Were Here/Hope in the Dry Bones", The Almost Daily eMo, Geranium Farm
http://www.geraniumfarm.org/dailyemo.cfm?Emo=962
Scott M. Lewis, S.J., New Collegeville Bible Commentary: The Gospel According to John and the Johannine Letters (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2005)
Lesslie Newbigin, The Light Has Come: An Exposition of the Fourth Gospel (Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1982)
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today: Reflections on the Readings of the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 2 (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre, 1999)
Mary Hinkle Shore, Herman C. Waetjen, Richard Eslinger, Melinda A. Quivik, New Proclamation: Year A, 2007-2008: Advent through Holy Week (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007)
Sunday, March 2, 2008
What would it be like to be born blind – and suddenly receive your sight?
What would it be like to be born blind – and suddenly receive your sight?
Would it be like this: like coming into a familiar place and seeing it as for the first time?
Would it be like coming back into health after a long illness?
Would it be like – discovering a new faith & embracing it & then coming home?
How would your family react? What would the neighbors say? The priests & politicians?
This man was blind from birth: and the question posed to Jesus was, which sinned, him or his parents, that this is his condition? It had to be one or the other, right? But Jesus shows them the way out of this false dilemma. Neither one: he has been born blind in order that God’s truth might be revealed in the world. But they still don’t see it. And so, Jesus goes to work: he makes mud, he who made the world, and he takes this primordial ooze and he spreads it across the man’s eyes.
“Go, wash….”
And then the man returns. Not all of them do. But this one does. And he can see. And his family and his neighbors can see that he can see.
Not a very comfortable moment. For him, for them. Can it be that this man had not sinned? That he was not being punished for some ancient fault? Can this be right? Is it a valid miracle if you do something like this?
So they take him to the experts – the Pharisees. The purest of the pure. They deserve sight, surely.
And oh dear – he says something unfortunate. He tells them the truth. What he has experienced: “I once was blind but now I see.”
And just how did that happen? “Jesus put mud on my eyes, then I washed, and now I see.”
And what do you say about him? “He is a prophet.”
This really upsets the apple cart. If sin is not the result of your fault, if sight is not the gift of the privileged few who – somehow – have not sinned, then what is the world coming to?
Grace. It is coming to grace. And truth, and light, and life, in the revelation of God’s glory in Jesus Christ.
Dangerous, dangerous words.
“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”
They cannot believe it; they cannot accept it. And so they drive him out.
Jesus finds him, and asks him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” Do you trust him?
And the man once blind begins his new life in the light of Christ.
“I came into this world,” says Jesus, “for judgment – for a dividing of the truth – so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”
The experts are revealed in their blindness, their willful folly, their failure, their refusal, to see – it is much more comfortable in the dark with your eyes shut. So they pretend.
The man was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent Jesus while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as Jesus is in the world, he is the light of the world.
And he heals us. And then:
Once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. This is what’s next.
The apostle Paul tells us what we are to do with this new life, this new light: Live as children of the light.
“Though you once were darkness, now as Christians you are light. Prove yourselves at home in the light, for where light is, there is a harvest of goodness, righteousness, and truth. Learn to judge for yourselves what is pleasing to the Lord; take no part in the barren deeds of darkness, but show them up for what they are. It would be shameful even to mention what is done in secret. But everything is shown up by being exposed to the light, and whatever is exposed to the light itself becomes light. That is why it is said:
‘Awake, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine upon you.’” (Eph 5.8-14 REB)
It takes a while to get used to this new sight. It takes a while to get used to this new light. To be restored to wholeness, when we are used to brokenness, and even more to be made a new creation – this is the promise of Christ Jesus. In him we find a new identity, a new community, new selves and relations. This is proud and painful. The man once blind now has a new life to live. Blinking in the sun, he emerges into the morning. It is a new day.
It is the new day of the Lord. The light of the world is shining. This is the day that the Lord has made: let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Amen.
JRL+ 3/2/08
Sources & Resources:
Lent IV, Year A
1 Samuel 16:1-13, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41, Psalm 23
Frederick Niedner, "Living by The Word: Reflections on the Lectionary", The Christian Century, February 26, 2008, Vol. 125, No. 4, p. 20-21.
Barbara Crafton, "The Almost Daily eMo: AN ASTONISHING THING. FUNNY, TOO. / STILL HEALING THE BLIND", March 1, 2008, The Geranium Farm, http://www.geraniumfarm.org
Would it be like this: like coming into a familiar place and seeing it as for the first time?
Would it be like coming back into health after a long illness?
Would it be like – discovering a new faith & embracing it & then coming home?
How would your family react? What would the neighbors say? The priests & politicians?
This man was blind from birth: and the question posed to Jesus was, which sinned, him or his parents, that this is his condition? It had to be one or the other, right? But Jesus shows them the way out of this false dilemma. Neither one: he has been born blind in order that God’s truth might be revealed in the world. But they still don’t see it. And so, Jesus goes to work: he makes mud, he who made the world, and he takes this primordial ooze and he spreads it across the man’s eyes.
“Go, wash….”
And then the man returns. Not all of them do. But this one does. And he can see. And his family and his neighbors can see that he can see.
Not a very comfortable moment. For him, for them. Can it be that this man had not sinned? That he was not being punished for some ancient fault? Can this be right? Is it a valid miracle if you do something like this?
So they take him to the experts – the Pharisees. The purest of the pure. They deserve sight, surely.
And oh dear – he says something unfortunate. He tells them the truth. What he has experienced: “I once was blind but now I see.”
And just how did that happen? “Jesus put mud on my eyes, then I washed, and now I see.”
And what do you say about him? “He is a prophet.”
This really upsets the apple cart. If sin is not the result of your fault, if sight is not the gift of the privileged few who – somehow – have not sinned, then what is the world coming to?
Grace. It is coming to grace. And truth, and light, and life, in the revelation of God’s glory in Jesus Christ.
Dangerous, dangerous words.
“One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”
They cannot believe it; they cannot accept it. And so they drive him out.
Jesus finds him, and asks him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” Do you trust him?
And the man once blind begins his new life in the light of Christ.
“I came into this world,” says Jesus, “for judgment – for a dividing of the truth – so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”
The experts are revealed in their blindness, their willful folly, their failure, their refusal, to see – it is much more comfortable in the dark with your eyes shut. So they pretend.
The man was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent Jesus while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as Jesus is in the world, he is the light of the world.
And he heals us. And then:
Once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. This is what’s next.
The apostle Paul tells us what we are to do with this new life, this new light: Live as children of the light.
“Though you once were darkness, now as Christians you are light. Prove yourselves at home in the light, for where light is, there is a harvest of goodness, righteousness, and truth. Learn to judge for yourselves what is pleasing to the Lord; take no part in the barren deeds of darkness, but show them up for what they are. It would be shameful even to mention what is done in secret. But everything is shown up by being exposed to the light, and whatever is exposed to the light itself becomes light. That is why it is said:
‘Awake, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine upon you.’” (Eph 5.8-14 REB)
It takes a while to get used to this new sight. It takes a while to get used to this new light. To be restored to wholeness, when we are used to brokenness, and even more to be made a new creation – this is the promise of Christ Jesus. In him we find a new identity, a new community, new selves and relations. This is proud and painful. The man once blind now has a new life to live. Blinking in the sun, he emerges into the morning. It is a new day.
It is the new day of the Lord. The light of the world is shining. This is the day that the Lord has made: let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Amen.
JRL+ 3/2/08
Sources & Resources:
Lent IV, Year A
1 Samuel 16:1-13, Ephesians 5:8-14, John 9:1-41, Psalm 23
Frederick Niedner, "Living by The Word: Reflections on the Lectionary", The Christian Century, February 26, 2008, Vol. 125, No. 4, p. 20-21.
Barbara Crafton, "The Almost Daily eMo: AN ASTONISHING THING. FUNNY, TOO. / STILL HEALING THE BLIND", March 1, 2008, The Geranium Farm, http://www.geraniumfarm.org
Sunday, February 17, 2008
The Judge Must Be Crazy
In the beginning God … created the heaven and the earth.
In the beginning … was the Word.
In the beginning there was … no sin. Was there? Then Adam bit into it – and the world was changed. Adam, – Adam meaning the man, the archetypal human being, – distrusted his Creator and took his own way in the world. That meant he learned about death, and sin, and folly, and loss.
And yet, God sent his own Son, to take the form of a human being, to take the form of Adam – that archetypal human being, and, as the Son of Man, he became the new archetype, the new model of what a human being can be – and is.
God sent his Son not to condemn the world but to redeem the world. We do well to remember that judgment was vindication, to the poor, the innocent, and the oppressed, the ones that Jesus came to, and he was their Judge – in the sense that he was their vindicator and defender.
It all reminds me of the worst play I ever saw… well, second worst, if you count the musical version of Major Barbara I sat through in college….
The Caucasian Chalk Circle: The Musical – put on by students at Carlmont High School. Oh, brother.
One of the best plays I ever saw was – The Caucasian Chalk Circle, by Bertolt Brecht, put on by Arena Stage. In it the story of the judgment of Solomon is changed: a rich woman has abandoned her child, a poor woman has taken it as her own and raised it – and now the rich woman wants it back. Azdak, the judge, who has a habit of judging in favor of the poor and oppressed, comes up with a test:
A circle of chalk is drawn and the child is placed in the center. The true mother, says the judge, will be able to pull the child from the center. If they both pull, they will tear the child in half and get half each. The test begins but the poor woman refuses to pull, as she cannot bear to hurt the child. The judge gives her one more chance, but again she cannot pull the child. The judge then declares that the poor woman is the true mother, as she loves the child too much to be able to hurt him.
The judge appears on the stage not to condemn the innocent but to save them: he is the vindicator of the poor and the oppressed. How crazy! How just.
Later, Abraham could have chosen to depend solely on his own efforts – to be a self-made man. “If Abraham was justified by works he has something to boast about,” as the apostle Paul says. But Abraham depended on God – and it was his faith that made him right in the eyes of God. He was a brave man, he worked hard, and he took risks we would hardly dare to take – today would you walk from Baghdad to Cairo and back to Jerusalem? But he depended on God. His life was in God’s hands and it was safe there.
Adam was disobedient and faithless, left the Garden in shame, under a curse. Abraham was obedient and faithful, left the land of his fathers in hope – headed toward promise, under the blessing. Jesus, the son of Adam, is even more the child of Abraham, bringing to us the fulfillment of the promise – that ‘all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’
Nicodemus, a member of the council, is a leader of his people: responsible, brilliant, resourceful, powerful; yet, there is something missing – and he comes to Jesus by night. Being born from above, being born again: this requires becoming vulnerable again, beginning again. He knows he must expose his soul without the carapace of power if he is truly to live.
And then, Jesus tells him: the wind – the spirit, the pneuma, the breath of God – blows where it chooses, and you do not know where it comes from or goes. You have no control over the Spirit.
How can these things be? How, asks the accomplished and prominent member of the council, can a person – with all my advantages and achievements – give it all up to start over? How could he so humble himself? Could he give up all he has, all he has acquired and accumulated, for this one great thing – the gift of life?
He will have to give up his position, won’t he? Or at least admit that what he has based his life on is all wrong, and make the consequences? Take on a new life, based on a new reality?
It seems unlikely – it’s way too hard. It’s asking too much of a man, to start fresh.
And yet later Nicodemus, along with Joseph of Arimathea, is there to receive Jesus’ body in his arms when his body was taken from the Cross. (John 19:39-42)
Something changed for him – something in Jesus’ message, that day, long ago, when he was the vulnerable one. He had been born anew.
His life has found its meaning – his inheritance as a child of Abraham has been fulfilled; he becomes an heir to the promise as he based his life on faith.
He has been born into the promise of Abraham at last; he has received the vindication of God’s justice, and he is saved, not by his own accomplishments and advantages, but by his faith, as innocent and dependent as a newborn child, in God, “the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.” (Romans 4:17)
***
ALent2
Genesis 12:1-4a
Psalm 33:12-22
Romans 4:1-5, 13-17
John 3:1-17
JRL+
Johannine ‘double-words’ (from www.preachingpeace.org):
Nuktos (night)
Semeia (signs)
Anothen (again/above)
Pneuma (spirit/wind/breath)
Hupsao (exalt/lift up)
***
Sources & Resources for Study and Preaching
Bibliography
Abingdon Bible Commentary (1929)
David Adam,
Clouds and Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year A (London: SPCK, 1998)
Traces of Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year B (London: SPCK, 1999)
Glimpses of Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year C (SPCK, 2000)
Christopher Irvine,
The Pilgrims' Manual (Glasgow: Wild Goose, 1997)
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today: Reflections on the Readings of the Revised Common Lectionary: Year A, Volume 1 (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre, 1998)
Nicholas Thomas (Tom) Wright,
Matthew for Everyone, ed. 2 (London: SPCK, 2004)
Barbara E. Reid,
New Collegeville Bible Commentary: The Gospel According to Matthew (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2005)
Fred B. Craddock, John H. Hayes, Carl R. Holladay, Gene M. Tucker,
Preaching Through the Christian Year: Year A (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1992)
Mary Hinkle Shore, Herman C. Waetjen, Richard Eslinger, Melinda A. Quivik,
New Proclamation: Year A, 2007-2008: Advent through Holy Week (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007)
The Lectionary Page http://www.io.com/~kellywp/index.html
The (Online) Book of Common Prayer http://www.bcponline.org/
Oremus Bible Browser http://bible.oremus.org/
Michael Hardin, Jeff Krantz & Anthony Bartlett,
Preaching Peace http://www.preachingpeace.org/
Anthony Bartlett,
Bible Studies at Preaching Peace http://www.preachingpeace.org/biblestudies.htm
Paul Nuechterlein,
Girardian Reflections on the Lectionary http://www.girardianlectionary.net/
Jenee Woodard, ed.,
The Text this Week http://www.textweek.com/
Mark I. Wallace and Theophus H. Smith, editors,
Curing Violence: Essays on René Girard (Polebridge Press, 1994)
http://www.westarinstitute.org/Polebridge/curing.html
Gil Bailie,
The Cornerstone Forum http://www.test-cornerstone.org/index.html
René Girard,
"Violence and the Cross", CTNS Forum, The Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences, Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley, February 11, 2003. http://www.ctns.org/news.html
In the beginning … was the Word.
In the beginning there was … no sin. Was there? Then Adam bit into it – and the world was changed. Adam, – Adam meaning the man, the archetypal human being, – distrusted his Creator and took his own way in the world. That meant he learned about death, and sin, and folly, and loss.
And yet, God sent his own Son, to take the form of a human being, to take the form of Adam – that archetypal human being, and, as the Son of Man, he became the new archetype, the new model of what a human being can be – and is.
God sent his Son not to condemn the world but to redeem the world. We do well to remember that judgment was vindication, to the poor, the innocent, and the oppressed, the ones that Jesus came to, and he was their Judge – in the sense that he was their vindicator and defender.
It all reminds me of the worst play I ever saw… well, second worst, if you count the musical version of Major Barbara I sat through in college….
The Caucasian Chalk Circle: The Musical – put on by students at Carlmont High School. Oh, brother.
One of the best plays I ever saw was – The Caucasian Chalk Circle, by Bertolt Brecht, put on by Arena Stage. In it the story of the judgment of Solomon is changed: a rich woman has abandoned her child, a poor woman has taken it as her own and raised it – and now the rich woman wants it back. Azdak, the judge, who has a habit of judging in favor of the poor and oppressed, comes up with a test:
A circle of chalk is drawn and the child is placed in the center. The true mother, says the judge, will be able to pull the child from the center. If they both pull, they will tear the child in half and get half each. The test begins but the poor woman refuses to pull, as she cannot bear to hurt the child. The judge gives her one more chance, but again she cannot pull the child. The judge then declares that the poor woman is the true mother, as she loves the child too much to be able to hurt him.
The judge appears on the stage not to condemn the innocent but to save them: he is the vindicator of the poor and the oppressed. How crazy! How just.
Later, Abraham could have chosen to depend solely on his own efforts – to be a self-made man. “If Abraham was justified by works he has something to boast about,” as the apostle Paul says. But Abraham depended on God – and it was his faith that made him right in the eyes of God. He was a brave man, he worked hard, and he took risks we would hardly dare to take – today would you walk from Baghdad to Cairo and back to Jerusalem? But he depended on God. His life was in God’s hands and it was safe there.
Adam was disobedient and faithless, left the Garden in shame, under a curse. Abraham was obedient and faithful, left the land of his fathers in hope – headed toward promise, under the blessing. Jesus, the son of Adam, is even more the child of Abraham, bringing to us the fulfillment of the promise – that ‘all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’
Nicodemus, a member of the council, is a leader of his people: responsible, brilliant, resourceful, powerful; yet, there is something missing – and he comes to Jesus by night. Being born from above, being born again: this requires becoming vulnerable again, beginning again. He knows he must expose his soul without the carapace of power if he is truly to live.
And then, Jesus tells him: the wind – the spirit, the pneuma, the breath of God – blows where it chooses, and you do not know where it comes from or goes. You have no control over the Spirit.
How can these things be? How, asks the accomplished and prominent member of the council, can a person – with all my advantages and achievements – give it all up to start over? How could he so humble himself? Could he give up all he has, all he has acquired and accumulated, for this one great thing – the gift of life?
He will have to give up his position, won’t he? Or at least admit that what he has based his life on is all wrong, and make the consequences? Take on a new life, based on a new reality?
It seems unlikely – it’s way too hard. It’s asking too much of a man, to start fresh.
And yet later Nicodemus, along with Joseph of Arimathea, is there to receive Jesus’ body in his arms when his body was taken from the Cross. (John 19:39-42)
Something changed for him – something in Jesus’ message, that day, long ago, when he was the vulnerable one. He had been born anew.
His life has found its meaning – his inheritance as a child of Abraham has been fulfilled; he becomes an heir to the promise as he based his life on faith.
He has been born into the promise of Abraham at last; he has received the vindication of God’s justice, and he is saved, not by his own accomplishments and advantages, but by his faith, as innocent and dependent as a newborn child, in God, “the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.” (Romans 4:17)
***
ALent2
Genesis 12:1-4a
Psalm 33:12-22
Romans 4:1-5, 13-17
John 3:1-17
JRL+
Johannine ‘double-words’ (from www.preachingpeace.org):
Nuktos (night)
Semeia (signs)
Anothen (again/above)
Pneuma (spirit/wind/breath)
Hupsao (exalt/lift up)
***
Sources & Resources for Study and Preaching
Bibliography
Abingdon Bible Commentary (1929)
David Adam,
Clouds and Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year A (London: SPCK, 1998)
Traces of Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year B (London: SPCK, 1999)
Glimpses of Glory: Prayers for the Church Year: Year C (SPCK, 2000)
Christopher Irvine,
The Pilgrims' Manual (Glasgow: Wild Goose, 1997)
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today: Reflections on the Readings of the Revised Common Lectionary: Year A, Volume 1 (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre, 1998)
Nicholas Thomas (Tom) Wright,
Matthew for Everyone, ed. 2 (London: SPCK, 2004)
Barbara E. Reid,
New Collegeville Bible Commentary: The Gospel According to Matthew (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2005)
Fred B. Craddock, John H. Hayes, Carl R. Holladay, Gene M. Tucker,
Preaching Through the Christian Year: Year A (Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1992)
Mary Hinkle Shore, Herman C. Waetjen, Richard Eslinger, Melinda A. Quivik,
New Proclamation: Year A, 2007-2008: Advent through Holy Week (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007)
The Lectionary Page http://www.io.com/~kellywp/index.html
The (Online) Book of Common Prayer http://www.bcponline.org/
Oremus Bible Browser http://bible.oremus.org/
Michael Hardin, Jeff Krantz & Anthony Bartlett,
Preaching Peace http://www.preachingpeace.org/
Anthony Bartlett,
Bible Studies at Preaching Peace http://www.preachingpeace.org/biblestudies.htm
Paul Nuechterlein,
Girardian Reflections on the Lectionary http://www.girardianlectionary.net/
Jenee Woodard, ed.,
The Text this Week http://www.textweek.com/
Mark I. Wallace and Theophus H. Smith, editors,
Curing Violence: Essays on René Girard (Polebridge Press, 1994)
http://www.westarinstitute.org/Polebridge/curing.html
Gil Bailie,
The Cornerstone Forum http://www.test-cornerstone.org/index.html
René Girard,
"Violence and the Cross", CTNS Forum, The Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences, Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley, February 11, 2003. http://www.ctns.org/news.html
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Looking beyond Good Friday
Looking beyond Good Friday, at the end of this season of Lent, requires more than worldly eyes. The historians of the Jesus Seminar, when they voted on the actions of Jesus, culminating in the events of Holy Week, could go no further than his death. He was crucified under Pontius Pilate.
Then what happened? What happened after he died? What happens after you die?
The answers are married, so closely are they related. Jesus became the first-born from the dead, the first one to experience resurrection. Looking at him, and at his appearances to the disciples, to Mary of Magdala and Joanna and to Peter and John and to many others, we see what resurrection life looks like. We know that he was raised, and we know that he continues to lead us, both in this life and beyond, as we approach the throne of God.
The events of Holy Week, and the actions of Jesus, beginning with Palm Sunday's ironic procession - holding up a mirror to the false pretensions of worldly glory of the powers of Empire, confronting entrenched interests even in the precincts of the Temple, holding the Passover meal with his friends, facing a jury-rigged midnight tribunal, and accepting the death of a common criminal, then passing through the tomb: these events, leading up to Easter, emerge in their full significance only when we look beyond the Tomb, to the first day of the week, when the women carrying spices and ointments went to pay their last respects to their dear Friend. There, where they looked for death, they found life: he is not here; he is risen!
As I write this we are still in the season of penitence and preparation, of Lent, and, with intervening celebrations, it is during this season that you will receive this newsletter. We will, on occasion, look back on events of Jesus' life - the wedding feast at Cana, notably - that foreshadow the joy of Easter, the hope of glory, and the love manifest in the Spirit.
In the meantime, however, we will prepare: we will look, at ourselves, our community, our nation and our world, and we will see there the need for God, the need for his presence among his people, the need for his voice and his hands to show his love to the world. We will see the need for his church to become ever more fully the people of God. And, even as we anticipate that last bite of darkness at the end of winter - Good Friday's solemn black - we will know that beyond it comes the dawning of the new day, the Lord's Day.
See you there.
Then what happened? What happened after he died? What happens after you die?
The answers are married, so closely are they related. Jesus became the first-born from the dead, the first one to experience resurrection. Looking at him, and at his appearances to the disciples, to Mary of Magdala and Joanna and to Peter and John and to many others, we see what resurrection life looks like. We know that he was raised, and we know that he continues to lead us, both in this life and beyond, as we approach the throne of God.
The events of Holy Week, and the actions of Jesus, beginning with Palm Sunday's ironic procession - holding up a mirror to the false pretensions of worldly glory of the powers of Empire, confronting entrenched interests even in the precincts of the Temple, holding the Passover meal with his friends, facing a jury-rigged midnight tribunal, and accepting the death of a common criminal, then passing through the tomb: these events, leading up to Easter, emerge in their full significance only when we look beyond the Tomb, to the first day of the week, when the women carrying spices and ointments went to pay their last respects to their dear Friend. There, where they looked for death, they found life: he is not here; he is risen!
As I write this we are still in the season of penitence and preparation, of Lent, and, with intervening celebrations, it is during this season that you will receive this newsletter. We will, on occasion, look back on events of Jesus' life - the wedding feast at Cana, notably - that foreshadow the joy of Easter, the hope of glory, and the love manifest in the Spirit.
In the meantime, however, we will prepare: we will look, at ourselves, our community, our nation and our world, and we will see there the need for God, the need for his presence among his people, the need for his voice and his hands to show his love to the world. We will see the need for his church to become ever more fully the people of God. And, even as we anticipate that last bite of darkness at the end of winter - Good Friday's solemn black - we will know that beyond it comes the dawning of the new day, the Lord's Day.
See you there.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
God illumines my aunt
One day in the office my cubicle neighbor turned to me and whispered, "Do you know what it means?" She pointed to the corporate logo: an open book with seven seals, and the motto written on the pages. I looked at it. I wasn't sure. I don't read Latin. So I ventured a guess: "God illumines my aunt?"
Lydia laughed.
The motto of our company, Oxford University Press, was very old, dating back before Columbus, back before Richard II (who signed off on it), back before Christ. It was:
Dominus illuminatio mea: The LORD is my light.
The beginning of the 27th Psalm, our psalm today.
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? *
the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
The light that illuminates me - and you - is the Lord.
In the 10th Century before Christ, the prophet Isaiah gave good news to the people of northern Israel, people who were being over-run by the Assyrian empire.
Even they, distant from Jerusalem, far in the north, on the shores and on the hills overlooking the Sea of Galilee, would experience a vindication, a salvation. For along the road to the sea, where they lived, the light of the Lord would shine:
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness-on them light has shined.
This is the land where Jesus walked, at the beginning of his ministry. Herod Antipas had arrested John the Baptist, and Jesus left that territory and moved north toward Nazareth, the place where he was raised. He made his home in a larger town, new and busy, down by the lakeshore: Capernaum, where fishing was the industry. It was along that ancient trade route, the road to the sea; Via Maris, it was called now. Traffic passed along, goods were transported, from Damascus to the west, and to Egypt.
And there, after the voice of the 'one crying in the wilderness' had been silenced, Jesus began to spread the good news himself, and to call to the people to turn away from the reign of the rulers of this world, Herod and such, and leave aside their own follies and past sins.
Something new is beginning, a light is dawning, & the reign of God is at hand.
Jesus begins to call his disciples. And his call to them has two parts:
Follow me.
And.
And I will make you fish for people.
There is a call, an initial response of faith, and an action. They do something, right away. Later Jesus will call Matthew from the tax tables, and put him to work, at something much greater: gathering in, no longer, tax monies for the overlords, but gathering in the people of God to bring the kingdom of God.
Now, it is follow me, -- and.
Later, one of these fishermen, Peter, will answer a question, "What must I do to be saved?" and his answer, again, will begin with an initial response of faith: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved."
But that is, generally speaking, not the end of the answer: beyond this initial act, there is an action. "Believe, and be baptized." Believe, and ---. Believe, and act to make it real. Make the salvation not a thing of head only, but of heart, not of words only, but deeds. Act it out with your body. Go and be baptized. Go and sell all you have, and distribute the proceeds to the poor: then you are really following me.
And Jesus reveals to the fisher folk what it means to follow him. First he said, "Follow me," but he continued, "and I will make you fish for people." I will make you fishers of men. Together.
And they dropped what they were doing, right then and there, said good-bye to their families, and went. That is when they found out what it meant to 'fish for people.'
Jesus led them up into the hill country and throughout the region. He proclaimed the good news. And he enacted the kingdom of heaven, embodied the reign of God - by curing every disease and every sickness among the people.
Here he gives a clear sign, an early warning, quite distinct, that something new is happening. The Messiah, the light of the Lord shining forth from one person, is the dawning of the new day for Israel, the day of the Lord. The Lord's anointed, the Messiah, the Christ, leads the way.
He calls to Simon Peter and Andrew his brother, and to James and John the sons of Zebedee, to follow his way. And -
He calls us.
The apostle Paul, in speaking to those exemplary Christians at Corinth - examples of so much that we recognize as behavior of the church - makes an appeal to them as his own brothers and sisters in the Lord, and he makes it in the name of Jesus: be in agreement, let there be no divisions. Don't fall apart into factions or parties, as if your identity lay in anything less than in the Lord.
He gets a little caustic: "Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?" What he is doing is reminding them of their true allegiance, the only one that really matters in the end: they are the people of God, the people redeemed by the Lord and baptized in the name of the Savior.
His primary task is not the initial plunge: it is to proclaim the gospel, to preach the good news, so that the power of the cross of Christ - that paradoxical sign of the power of God - the cross might be revealed as the sign of glory.
And that the people of God - you and I, and they - the Corinthians - might know that in Christ alone is our salvation and our hope and our identity - and our mission.
They are not to divide themselves up into little camps, or tribes.
They are to stay together, focus on mission, and move forward in the name of Christ.
Follow me and.
Believe and.
What is left for us? Two things:
A great commandment.
A great commission.
The first is about staying together. The second is about focusing on mission. And they both are about moving forward in the name of Christ.
We will encounter these again later in Matthew's gospel, as the year goes by.
First,
The Great Commandment (Matthew 22:37-40)
Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ saith:
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with
all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great
commandment. And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt
love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments
hang all the Law and the Prophets.
And second,
The Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20):
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
Together, these two directives, great commandment and great commission, form us into the people of God, shape us as a church, and remind us of what we are doing. So we pray,
Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
--------------------
References
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ministry_of_Jesus (accessed 5:12 AM Sunday, January 27, 2008)
The Third Sunday after Epiphany, January 27, 2008
Year A, Revised Common Lectionary (RCL)
Isaiah 9:1-4
Psalm 27:1, 5-12
1 Corinthians 1:10-18
Matthew 4:12-23
Psalm 27:1 (Page 617, BCP)
Dominus illuminatio mea
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? *
the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
Lydia laughed.
The motto of our company, Oxford University Press, was very old, dating back before Columbus, back before Richard II (who signed off on it), back before Christ. It was:
Dominus illuminatio mea: The LORD is my light.
The beginning of the 27th Psalm, our psalm today.
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? *
the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
The light that illuminates me - and you - is the Lord.
In the 10th Century before Christ, the prophet Isaiah gave good news to the people of northern Israel, people who were being over-run by the Assyrian empire.
Even they, distant from Jerusalem, far in the north, on the shores and on the hills overlooking the Sea of Galilee, would experience a vindication, a salvation. For along the road to the sea, where they lived, the light of the Lord would shine:
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness-on them light has shined.
This is the land where Jesus walked, at the beginning of his ministry. Herod Antipas had arrested John the Baptist, and Jesus left that territory and moved north toward Nazareth, the place where he was raised. He made his home in a larger town, new and busy, down by the lakeshore: Capernaum, where fishing was the industry. It was along that ancient trade route, the road to the sea; Via Maris, it was called now. Traffic passed along, goods were transported, from Damascus to the west, and to Egypt.
And there, after the voice of the 'one crying in the wilderness' had been silenced, Jesus began to spread the good news himself, and to call to the people to turn away from the reign of the rulers of this world, Herod and such, and leave aside their own follies and past sins.
Something new is beginning, a light is dawning, & the reign of God is at hand.
Jesus begins to call his disciples. And his call to them has two parts:
Follow me.
And.
And I will make you fish for people.
There is a call, an initial response of faith, and an action. They do something, right away. Later Jesus will call Matthew from the tax tables, and put him to work, at something much greater: gathering in, no longer, tax monies for the overlords, but gathering in the people of God to bring the kingdom of God.
Now, it is follow me, -- and.
Later, one of these fishermen, Peter, will answer a question, "What must I do to be saved?" and his answer, again, will begin with an initial response of faith: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved."
But that is, generally speaking, not the end of the answer: beyond this initial act, there is an action. "Believe, and be baptized." Believe, and ---. Believe, and act to make it real. Make the salvation not a thing of head only, but of heart, not of words only, but deeds. Act it out with your body. Go and be baptized. Go and sell all you have, and distribute the proceeds to the poor: then you are really following me.
And Jesus reveals to the fisher folk what it means to follow him. First he said, "Follow me," but he continued, "and I will make you fish for people." I will make you fishers of men. Together.
And they dropped what they were doing, right then and there, said good-bye to their families, and went. That is when they found out what it meant to 'fish for people.'
Jesus led them up into the hill country and throughout the region. He proclaimed the good news. And he enacted the kingdom of heaven, embodied the reign of God - by curing every disease and every sickness among the people.
Here he gives a clear sign, an early warning, quite distinct, that something new is happening. The Messiah, the light of the Lord shining forth from one person, is the dawning of the new day for Israel, the day of the Lord. The Lord's anointed, the Messiah, the Christ, leads the way.
He calls to Simon Peter and Andrew his brother, and to James and John the sons of Zebedee, to follow his way. And -
He calls us.
The apostle Paul, in speaking to those exemplary Christians at Corinth - examples of so much that we recognize as behavior of the church - makes an appeal to them as his own brothers and sisters in the Lord, and he makes it in the name of Jesus: be in agreement, let there be no divisions. Don't fall apart into factions or parties, as if your identity lay in anything less than in the Lord.
He gets a little caustic: "Has Christ been divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?" What he is doing is reminding them of their true allegiance, the only one that really matters in the end: they are the people of God, the people redeemed by the Lord and baptized in the name of the Savior.
His primary task is not the initial plunge: it is to proclaim the gospel, to preach the good news, so that the power of the cross of Christ - that paradoxical sign of the power of God - the cross might be revealed as the sign of glory.
And that the people of God - you and I, and they - the Corinthians - might know that in Christ alone is our salvation and our hope and our identity - and our mission.
They are not to divide themselves up into little camps, or tribes.
They are to stay together, focus on mission, and move forward in the name of Christ.
Follow me and.
Believe and.
What is left for us? Two things:
A great commandment.
A great commission.
The first is about staying together. The second is about focusing on mission. And they both are about moving forward in the name of Christ.
We will encounter these again later in Matthew's gospel, as the year goes by.
First,
The Great Commandment (Matthew 22:37-40)
Hear what our Lord Jesus Christ saith:
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with
all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great
commandment. And the second is like unto it: Thou shalt
love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments
hang all the Law and the Prophets.
And second,
The Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20):
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."
Together, these two directives, great commandment and great commission, form us into the people of God, shape us as a church, and remind us of what we are doing. So we pray,
Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
--------------------
References
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ministry_of_Jesus (accessed 5:12 AM Sunday, January 27, 2008)
The Third Sunday after Epiphany, January 27, 2008
Year A, Revised Common Lectionary (RCL)
Isaiah 9:1-4
Psalm 27:1, 5-12
1 Corinthians 1:10-18
Matthew 4:12-23
Psalm 27:1 (Page 617, BCP)
Dominus illuminatio mea
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? *
the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
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