God's Breath of Restoration

 

Psalm 104:25-37

Pentecost Sunday / Year B

You hide your face,
and your creatures are terrified; *
  you take away their breath,
  and they die and return to their dust.
You send forth your Spirit, and they are created; *

  and so you renew the face of the earth.

May 18, 1980 was a memorable day in the Pacific Northwest.  It was the day Mount St. Helens erupted, lowering its elevation by over 1,300 feet and creating a crater a mile wide and 2,000 feet deep.  The initial blast and subsequent fallout devastated hundreds of square miles, transforming a lush, mountain environment into little more than moonscape.  Everyone in the region remembers vividly where they were, what they heard, and what they felt during the eruption as well as how much ash fell on where they were.  Nothing could have survived its force and the chocking effect of being buried under several feet of dense power.  Or so it seemed…

Jerry Franklin, an ecologist, was on the first helicopter to land in the blast zone.  It was only a few weeks after May 18 and as he stepped out onto the ashy surface, he looked down and was stunned to see a green shoot poking up through the dust.  He recognized it immediately to be Chamaenerion angustifolium, commonly known as fireweed.  Franklin and other ecologists knew they had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to observe how nature recovers from devastation; a process known as ecological regeneration.

The U.S. Soil Conservation Service decided to reseed by air some 32 square miles of land, but with the creation of the Mount St. Helens National Monument in 1982 a significant tract of land was set aside to recover on its own.  I visited the park a few years ago.  It was a beautiful, sun-splashed day and the view of the mountain with its crater facing me and the surrounding panoramic landscape was impressive beyond description.  The reseeded land was readily apparent because after thirty-five years it had returned to forestland.  The areas left unattended had not advanced nearly as far, yet still showed remarkable and diverse recovery.  Its grand scale was mesmerizing and should you find yourself in this part of the country is well worth a visit.

This morning we hear a beautiful portion of the 104^th Psalm, a poem which extols God’s role in creation.  More specifically, it describes how God’s Spirit (or breath – God’s ruach in Hebrew) creates, sustains, cleanses, and restores all living things.  Far from being the prime mover or the initial source, and nowhere near being the creative architect now disengaged from creation, the theology of the 104^th Psalm holds God is intimately involved with each one of us and with all of creation.

How intimately?  Well, consider the use of breath as a metaphor.  The typical human being takes about 16 breaths per minute.  This means we breathe 960 times an hour and over 23,000 times in a day.  Each one of us takes something like 8.4 million breaths every year.  Given this, what does the image of God’s Spirit as breathe suggest to you?  It speaks to me of God’s continual, on-going relationship with us and with all of creation.  And it suggestions this connection is absolutely vital to our on-going life.

The vast majority of our 8.4 million breaths in 2021 will pass without our notice.  You will be aware of only a small percentage.  You may need to take a deep breath in order to calm down.  You may be working hard or exercising a become out of breath.  You may catch a chest cold and have difficulty breathing.  You might find yourself in a rose garden and take in a deep breath in order to enjoy the fragrance.  You may be taking a breath at the end of singing a line of your favorite hymn.  Whatever it is causing you to be aware of your breathing I suggest it is also a good time to remind yourself of the nearness of God’s Spirit, who presence always seems to come to our awareness when we need it the most.  As with the overwhelming majority of our breaths, most often we are not aware of God’s presence in our lives, but know this… God is with you… all the time… no matter where you are… no matter if you are aware of it or not.

We are hearing the psalm’s witness to God’s activity of creating, sustaining, cleansing, and restoring at a very interesting time.  As I wrote in the e-news, the speed with which Covid restrictions are being eased is only surpassed by the speed in which they were initially imposed.  I personally sense I need time to reacclimate to life as it was before.  Which is to say, I am relieved not to have to wear a mask, but I am not ready yet to engage in our Pentecost tradition of blowing up balloons, batting them around, popping them, and then pushing our way through throngs of people in order to pass the peace with a stranger.  Next year maybe.  Still, it feels like we are at the dawn of a new day when God’s Breath is going forth and renewing the face of the earth.

I would like to make a small confession to you.  I added a verse to the psalm reading.  The Lectionary calls for us to read verses 25-35 and verse 37, skipping over verse 36.  Whenever a verse is omitted by the Lectionary you should go right to your prayer book and find out what we are missing!  Here is verse 36:

Let sinners be consumed out of the earth, *

  and the wicked be no more.

Now I suspect the framers of the Lectionary decided to pass over it because its emphasis on sin, wickedness, judgement, and punishment feels out of character with the rest of the reading.  And I admit it seems to come out of leftfield.  But several commentators I read this week argued for its inclusion because as wonderful as God’s creation is it is still marred by brokenness.  We are at odds with ourselves, with one another, with other nations, and with creation itself.  There is much in need of cleansing and God’s restoration of creation is possible only after sin is confessed and wickedness is rejected.

If we were ready to sing this morning, perhaps we might use this hymn by Charles Gabriel, inspired by today’s psalm:

Thy Spirit, O Lord, makes life to abound;
The earth is renewed, and fruitful the ground;

To God ascribe glory and wisdom and might,
Let God in His creatures forever delight.

Before the Lord’s might earth trembles and quakes,
The mountains are rent, and smoke from them breaks;

The Lord I will worship through all of my days,
Yea, while I have being my God I will praise.

Rejoicing in God, my thought shall be sweet,
While sinners depart in ruin complete;

My soul, bless Jehovah, His name be adored,
Come, praise Him, ye people, and worship the Lord.

And in conclusion…

(which is always a dangerous thing to say in a sermon because if the conclusion doesn’t follow in short order the faithful just might find a way to turn their prayers books into pitchforks)…

in conclusion, either with you masks on if you opt for this, or with – Hallelujah! – no mask on for the first time in a long time…

take a moment to sit still…

breathe in…

breathe out…

bathe yourself in the beauty of this place…

breathe in…

breathe out…

look around and notice who is here with you this morning…

breathe in…

breathe out…

Repeat after me:

Thy Spirit, O Lord…

makes life to abound…

The earth is renewed…

and fruitful the ground…

The Lord I will worship…

through all of my days…

Yea, while I have being…

my God I will praise.

 

 

 

 

Joy and a Tomato-Red Convertible

 

John 17:6-19

Easter 7 / Year B

Jesus prayed, “May my followers have my joy made complete in themselves.”  St. John, in one of his letters, writes, “Whoever has the Son has life.”  Life and joy.  Although not fully attained until the life to come, abundant life and overflowing joy are two hallmarks of every believer’s present walk with Christ. 

One of the qualities I first found attractive about the Episcopal Church is our life-affirming ethos.  We know how to laugh, to eat, to drink, to travel, and to just plain have a good time.   We appreciate art, music, ballet, and theatre.  We embrace science and the fearless pursuit of knowledge at every level.  It is not like this with every Christian tradition.  Some have a deep distrust of pleasure and of the things of this world; supposing self-denial, suffering, skepticism, and separation are signs of one’s commitment to Jesus. 

One of the greatest lessons many of us struggle to learn in life is how to embrace life; finding a way to get the most out of every good gift God has woven into the fabric of God’s creation – a creation God deemed to be ‘good’ when God rested from the work of calling it into being.  There is a goodness to life easy to miss and to miss out on if over the years you have taught yourself being miserable or miserly is good enough.

Years ago I read for you my absolute favorite poem of all time, “Grandfather’s Cars” by Robert Phillips:

Every two years he traded them in 

(“As soon as the ashtrays get full,” he said with good humor);

always a sedate four-door sedan, always a Buick,

always dark as the inside of a tomb.

Then one spring Grandfather took off to trade,

returned, parked proudly in the driveway.

“Shave-and-a-haircut, two bits!” blared the horn.

Grandmother emerged from the kitchen into day-

light, couldn’t believe her eyes.  

Grandfather sat behind the wheel of a tomato-red Lincoln convertible, 

the top down.  “Shave-and-a-haircut, two bits!”  

“Roscoe, whatever are you thinking?”

she cried.  Back into the kitchen she flew.

No matter how many times he leaned on that horn,

she wouldn’t return.  So he went inside,

found her decapitating strawberries with scorn.

“Katie, what’s wrong with that automobile?

All my life I’ve wanted something sporty.”

He stood there wearing his Montgomery Ward

brown suit and saddle shoes.  His face was warty.

She wiped her hands along her apron,

said words that cut like a band saw:

“What ails you?  They’ll think you’ve turned fool!

All our friends are dying like flies-all!

You can’t drive that thing in a funeral procession.”

He knew she was right.  He gave her one baleful

look, left, and returned in possession

of a four-door Dodge, black, practical as nails.

Grandfather hated that car until the day he died.

Is there anything more critical and cutting to be said about a person than he or she is joyless?  Much better to live the way the short-story writer Katrina Mayer described one of her characters: “She found joy and wonder in every little thing.  And joy and wonder always found her.”

Maybe what will make your heart leap isn’t a tomato-red Lincoln with a vanity horn, maybe it isn’t even something you can purchase – and that is even better – but here are a few thoughts to ponder:

If you can’t embrace the life God offers in this world, what makes you think you will be drawn toward the life God offers in the next? 

What if affirming life in this world is training for accepting life in the next!

 

If you spend all your life in this life turning down and turning away from the life God has beautifully woven into the fabric of creation, how will you ever know how to say yes to the life to come?

Jesus wanted his followers to have the complete sense of joy he had.  Did you know all the fuddy-duddy, kill-joy religious types in Jesus’ day accused him of being a glutton and a drunkard?  It is right there in the bible.  Apparently Jesus just had a lot more fun than they thought was appropriate.  But, as our choir is fond of singing, Jesus was the Lord of the Dance and with him the dance went on.  He just kept honking his horn – “Shave-and-a-Haircut, Two Bits” – while the most learned and religious people of the day went on decapitating strawberries with scorn until they could nail him to a Cross.

No wonder Jesus, on the night before he is to die, prays his followers we might live differently than the ‘religious’ people of the day; that they might come to find joy in this life.  Having this life/this joy, according to the Apostle John, is a sure and certain sign you have Jesus. 

I believe joy is something we receive as a gift.  St. Paul says it is one of the fruits of the Spirit’s life within you.  Happiness comes from several sources: from special relationships (like being with your grandchildren), from enjoyable things (such as a tomato-red convertible), and from agreeable situations (perhaps relaxing on the beach while reading a good book).  If you are happy and I ask you why, chances are you can tell me specifically why.  Joy is different.  It is more inexplicable.  It just seems to well up within us, doesn’t it!  And it abides through thick and thin.  There will be times when grandchildren won’t go to bed, the sporty car springs a leak, and ocean winds blow sand in your eyes.  But you can be a single mother of five and scarcely getting by yet still be filled with joy because joy is not necessarily dependent on what is happening at the moment. 

Why do you think Jesus does not pray we might be happy, but rather prays his joy may be made complete in us?  If joy is not something we work to find, but rather receive as a gift, what implications does this hold for you?  Do you sense you live and move and have your being in this world filled with a sense of joy?  If so, why?  And if not, why not?

Deep Knowing

 

John 15:9-17

Easter 6 / Year B

Jesus said to his disciples, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” 

First century Palestine was anything but a loving place to live.  In fact, it was deeply divided in a number of different ways.  If you know your bible then you know Galileans were looked down on by others, so there were regional divides.  And there were ancestral divides.  Jews and Samaritans lived in close contact, yet refused even to speak to one another.  The religious establishment was divided into several different theological and liturgical camps and adherents of each group could barely tolerate adherents of others.  The region was divided up and ruled by various kings appointed by Rome.  These individuals neither liked nor trusted each other and they certainly did not like or trust the people under their rule.  The Jewish response to Roman occupation ranged from capitulation to outright rebellion.  Extremist zealots led something like a dozen different insurrections during Jesus’ lifetime alone.

These were huge divides because people were passionate about their positions – very passionate!  Tension, volatility, and hostility filled the air.  It might be an exaggeration to say everybody hated everybody, but without question everybody hated somebody.  We bristle at how our own country in our own time has become divided and embittered, well, Palestine was like us on hyper-drive. 

It is into this setting Jesus introduces his notion of the Kingdom of God.  In his dream the poor are exalted, the suffering find comfort, and the peacemakers are blessed.  It is a vision of a society not ruled by might or by the power of the purse.  It is the pure in heart who are welcomed into God’s presence.  In Jesus’ mind every person has value because every person is a child of God. 

In a 2019 speech at Brigham Young University, the New York Times columnist David Brooks made this observation:

Somehow we have entered an age of bad generalizations.  We don’t see each other well.  Liberals believe that.  Evangelicals believe that. Latter-day Saints believe that.  All groups, all stereotypes, all bad generalizations—we do not see the heart and soul of each person, only a bunch of bad labels.  To me, this is the core problem that our democratic character is faced with.  Many of our society’s great problems flow from people not feeling seen and known: Blacks feeling that their daily experience is not understood by whites.  Rural people not feeling seen by coastal elites.  Depressed young people not feeling understood by anyone.  People across the political divides getting angry with one another and feeling incomprehension.

Brooks suggests the thing we must get better at is “the trait of seeing each other deeply and being deeply seen.”  It is the trait, he says, that lies at the center of every healthy relationship, family, classroom, community, and nation.

And I think it is what Jesus invites his disciples to experience.  When he commands his followers to love one another as he has loved them, Jesus is not suggesting they merely grit their teeth, bite their tongue, and hold their peace every time another person pushes them to the limit (and you can be sure the disciples had a way of pushing each other’s buttons).  Jesus invites them to do exactly what he did: look past what is on the surface in order to see what is deep inside.  When he looked deep into the eyes of broken prostitute or a greedy tax-collector or a bedeviled demonic (to name a few) he saw a person fully known and fully loved by God.  Can Jesus’ followers see as he sees and then translate what they see into action – the action of love?

I suspect no one here has heard of Fr. Peter Scholtes, but chances are good if you attended a youth group in the 60’s or 70’s and someone had a guitar, you know a song he wrote:

We are one in the Spirit

   We are one in the Lord

And we pray that all unity

   May one day be restored…

We will walk with each other

   We will walk hand in hand

And together we’ll spread the news

   That God is in our land…

We will work with each other

   We will work side by side

And we’ll guard each man’s dignity

   And save each man’s pride…

…And they’ll know we are Christians

   By our love, by our love

Yes, they’ll know we are Christians

   By our love

Why is it important to Jesus his disciples love one another?  Because he knows no one is going to believe what he teaches if they can’t see it lived out in the flesh.  And when it is lived out, there is nothing on earth capable of outshining it.  This morning it is into this purpose and power we initiate Bellamy Johns through the sacrament of Baptism.  And it is to this purpose and power we recommit ourselves today through the act of renewing our own Baptismal Covenant.

Surely you are aware of trends in church membership and how the fastest growing group in our society is the ‘nones’ – those who do not associate with any particular religious tradition or expression of faith.  It is not that they have found something they like better, they have just stopped looking.  And over time the outcome of this disconnection is not going to be pretty.  Already we sense its toll as we see loneliness, anger, and anxiety increase.  We are welcoming Bellamy into the Christian faith and life at a moment in time when the world needs people capable of knowing and being known deeply.  We are welcoming her at a time when desperate people need to see Jesus’ dream realized in community.  The world needs to see the breathtaking beauty and transformative power of Jesus’ vision.  It needs to know we are Christians by our love.

 

The Doors are Open!

 

John 15:1-8

Easter 5 / Year B.

My Praise is of God in the great assembly; I will perform my vows in the presence of those who worship him. (Psalm 22:24)

What a wonderful verse from the Psalter for us to read on this morning when the doors of St. Paul’s finally are open for public worship.  Once again we can to praise God in the presence of those who worship God in this space we love!  Hallelujah! 

This morning we hear Jesus say, “I am the vine and my Father is the vinegrower...  Every branch that bears fruit is pruned so that it can bear more fruit.”  The last fourteen months have been a period of pruning, haven’t they.  Much of what we think of as fruitfulness has been cut off… in our lives, in our community, in our occupations, and here in our church – the worship services, the Christian formation activities, the opportunities for fellowship, the ministries we offer to the community.  We have been pruned indeed.  And yet, as Jesus says, we have figured out how to abide in him and remain connected to one another.  Although physically separated, God has granted us a spiritual path to maintain our sense of community.  Challenged?  Yes.  Blessed?  Beyond measure! 

And now the doors are open.  I like to say “the doors are open” because it sums up what is different today from last Sunday.  We made an intentional decision not to make too many changes prior to reopening.  Some churches are forming committees to plan their ‘reopening.’  These groups meet over and over and over again trying to nail down every detail and iron out every wrinkle before regathering.  There is a reason why Moses didn’t form an Exodus Committee to figure out all the things that needed to happen prior to leaving Egypt.  His lean instructions were these: “Grab what you can and let’s go.  The rest we will figured out on the way.”  And we will too. 

As I reflect on the last fourteen months, I realize we at St. Paul’s have established a pretty good track record of rising to challenges and seizing opportunities and I fully expect this to continue as we move forward.  We will figure it out as we go, facing every problem not as a reason to assign blame, but as an opportunity for innovating.  Like the pruned vine we now are, we will grow in the new and unexpected ways.  We will be fruitful once again, but perhaps not in some of the ways as before. 

In my sermon on Easter Sunday I mused on the difference between resuscitation and resurrection.  Resuscitation occurs when one person literally takes the life in him or her and forces it into another who is lifeless.  Resurrection is entirely God’s doing and we are the beneficiaries.  I am mindful of this distinction as we open the doors to St. Paul’s.  Regathering Committees, what with all their planning, are working at resuscitation, and many are finding it is a lot of work indeed.  My thinking is let’s just open the doors and see what happens!  Let’s see what God is going to do and then we’ll respond to it.  This, I hope, is a resurrection mindset.

So, one phrase I am using is “The Doors are Open.”  Here is another: “God is leading us into our future.”  It reminds me who is in charge – God.  It reminds me of what God is doing – leading us.  And it reminds me where we are going – into our future.  Because God is leading us, we do not initiate activity, but rather respond to opportunity.  And because God is leading us into our future, our focus is on what will be, not what once was.  Much of what we did before we will do again, but not everything.  And some of what we did before will happen in a new and different way.  And… things we never dreamed of before all the pruning we have been through will suddenly become a part of who we are.  Standing here before you this morning, I can’t tell you specifically what this will look like, only that we have established a pretty good track record of meeting challenges and seizing opportunities. 

The first step in all of this is opening the doors and inviting you in.  Let’s enjoy this moment, shall we.  Let’s get acclimated to being back together.  Let’s remember what it is like to stand and to kneel and to say out loud, “And also with you.” 

Somewhere in our future there will be singing.  Somewhere in our future there will be the Passing of the Peace.  Somewhere in our future there will be a pile of children pulling on the bell rope at the end of the service.  Somewhere in our future there will be coffee and cookies after church.   

But for now, isn’t it wonderful just to be back in our beautiful worship space, to hear the organ, to be bathed in the light of our stained glass windows, to receive communion in both kinds (albeit in a new way) and to see one another.  Isn’t it wonderful to have the doors open once again and to praise God in the midst of the great assembly!

When the Wolf Draws Near

 

John 10:11-18

Easter 4 / Year B

“O my, Grandma, what big teeth you have!”  Do you remember the next line?  How about this one: “If you don’t open the door, I’ll huff and I’ll puff…” What comes next?  Because we were raised on children’s stories we remember being taught to beware of wolves.  Never mind most of us grew up in urban or suburban surroundings and never saw even one wolf, these stories served an important function in our maturation. 

They taught us the world isn’t always as safe as the sheltered environment our parents created for us.  They let us know danger is always present… though not always seen.  They educated us about the cunning ways evil can feed off innocence and naiveté.  And, mercifully, they reinforced we are not completely alone and helpless in our struggle against these harmful forces.  Little Red Riding Hood is saved when her grandmother fetches the woodsman.  The three pigs are saved because one invests the time and energy necessary to construct a safe, sturdy, brick house.  These were important stories for us to hear as we grew up and as adults we remember them because, metaphorically speaking, wolves come after us throughout our life.

This Fourth Sunday of Easter is known as Good Shepherd Sunday.  The Collect sets the theme for the day and each of the readings builds on it.  The Gospel lesson calls us to reflect on the difference between the shepherd and the hired hand.  Drawing on imagery familiar to people employed in the herding trade, Jesus makes a simple, but important point: There is a significant difference between the shepherd who owns the sheep and the hired hands who are paid to help out.  When the wolf comes the hired hands run away, but the shepherd puts his life on the line to protect what matters most to him.

Jesus invites us to ponder a reality and a question.  Here is the reality: In life we will be tested.  The wolf will come at us in different times and in different ways and we will be tested again and again in these moments. 

Since this is our reality, here is the question: When you see the wolf coming, who or what can you count on?  Who or what will stand with you, even to the point of laying down life itself?  When sorrow comes, will the friends who want to play with you stay with you?  When weakness comes, will the possessions you have accumulated strengthen you?  When tomorrow’s failure comes, what of yesterday’s successes will remain to shelter you?  When death comes, who or what will stay with you to see you through?  Not your education.  Not your career.  Not your stock portfolio.  Not your winning personality and certainly not your good looks. 

Jesus said this to a handful of men and women: “When the wolf comes the hireling will flee; but I will not.  I am the Good Shepherd.  I will be there when you need me.”  The one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church began when this small group of people discovered Jesus keeps his promise.

Scholars say it is no accident the beloved 23^rd Psalm (“The Lord is my Shepherd”) is placed immediately after the 22^nd Psalm (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”).  The 22^nd Psalm tells us about the dark, terrible testing in life, while the 23^rd Psalm tells us about the Good Shepherd who leads us through these experiences to still waters and green pastures.

There will be times when we will be tested in the laboratory of calamity.  These moments teach us who and what we can and cannot count on.  With each testing our trust in the Good Shepherd grows deeper.  And as our trust deepens we begin to discover a life which pain and suffering cannot defeat, a joy which sin cannot dim, and a power from God which stands the test of living, as well as the test of dying.  All of this is possible because when the wolf comes the Good Shepherd does not flee from our side.

So today we reflect on the reality of testing and ask who or what will see us through.  I think today’s readings encourage also us to ask one more question: Who can count on you to be a shepherd when the wolf comes for them?  We all have relationships that are more like pleasant acquaintances.  In the moment of their need we may, in fact, be more like the hireling.  But each of us has a few precious relationships that stand through thick and thin. 

When a couple seeks God’s blessing on their marriage, we ask them to face one another, to join hands, and to promise to have and to hold for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health… until parted by death.  The wolf comes to every marriage.  Every couple is tested again and again.  This is why we do not ask them to sign on as a hireling in each other’s life.  We ask them to be shepherds who will lay down even life itself for the other.    

Parents also are called to be shepherds, not hirelings.  A parent will sacrifice everything for his or her children.  Each will put off personal needs to tend first to the needs of their children.  Their love is a bond that cannot be broken by any trouble.  When loving parents see the wolf coming they do not run away.  They do everything possible for their sheep, their children.

Some friends are shepherds, others are hirelings.  I learned this for the first time when my father died. My friends and I were still in our teens and death had never touched closely to any of us.  Some of my best friends were not able to stand by my side when that wolf was present.  They did not know what to say or do or how to make it better, so they stayed away.  Only a few friends stood with me in that awkward moment, but what friends they were!  They did not know what to say to make the pain more bearable.  They did not know what to do to slow the flow of tears.  So most times they stood by in silence, but their presence said more than any words of wisdom ever could.  We can’t be that kind of friend to everyone we know, but we all have friends who will know us to be shepherds in their hour of need.

We need to be realistic about this shepherding business.  There will be times of personal testing when those who should stand with us will fail us.  In our marriage, in our parenting, in our friendships, and even in our faith community, there will be times when we will look for a shepherd and find only hirelings.  And there will be times when those we love will need us and we will be little more than a hired hand who does not show up to do the job. 

As we rely on the grace of God to forgive us our sins, so we offer this grace to those who have sinned against us.  If we are to be shepherds, we will need to learn how to ask for forgiveness as well.  A hireling who screws up will run off and find another job.  But a shepherd who does not live up to the call will not run away and hide from the flock he or she loves.  A shepherd will return to gather the scattered, bind up the wounded, sooth the anxious, and begin the process of tending to the flock anew. 

In this life we can be sure we will be tested.  We can be sure the wolf will come.  Jesus tells us he is the Good Shepherd who will not disappoint us when everything else fails.  He asks us to help him watch over the flock of those who are closely connected to us.   He invites us to love one another as he loves us; to love as a shepherd.  In this love for one another we receive a glimpse of a kingdom yet to come.  It will be a kingdom of one flock under the love and protection of the one Great Shepherd.  Until that day when the wolf will be no more, we have a job to do.

The Grand Narrative

 

The Book of Acts 3:12- 19

Easter 3 / Year B

A friend encouraged me to check out Douglas Murray’s book The Madness of Crowds in which the British author explores why our society is being torn apart by divisive issues such as sexuality, gender, technology, and race.  Murray contends “we have been living through a period of more than a quarter of a century in which all our grand narratives have collapsed.”  By grand narrative, I assume Murray means something like the story we embrace and the truths it contains to help us make sense of the world, of our place in it, and of our responsibility to it and to one another.

Murray is not the only person to observe our post-modern age is marked by suspicion of all grand narratives, especially those once provided by religion and political ideology.  In their place, he says, what has emerged are “new battles, ever fiercer campaigns and more niche demands.”  We find meaning, he says, by constantly waging war with anyone who “seems to be on the wrong side of the question.”  Murray goes on to examine how he sees his premise playing out through some of our most heated social debates.     

I confess I have not read the entire book, so there may be more I have missed, but it struck me how, when examining the change in our society’s view of same gender relationships, Murray’s biggest complaint seems to be too much has changed too fast.  I agree our world is changing at an unprecedented pace, the rapidity of which is both astonishing and stressful at the same time.  But the concern about pace, it seems to me, depends on which side of the change you are on.  

Did anyone see coming the fall of the Berlin Wall on November 9, 1989?  One day it defined the world and the next day it was gone.  It was a rapid change long overdue, unless of course you were invested in maintaining the Iron Curtain.  The grand narrative of Marxism, the Soviet Union, and The Cold War collapsed in a matter of days along with the wall so symbolic of the story it pushed.  Was the speed of it all disorienting?  Certainly.  Was it a blessing?  Absolutely. 

Our country’s discourse about same gender relationships has played out largely during my three and a half decades in the ordained ministry.  Each new threshold was a cause of joy for some and consternation for others.  Much of the time those disquieted by a recent development wondered aloud, “What is coming next?”  It is how many expressed their concern with the fast-paced nature change manifests itself in our day.  But for those on the other side of the dominant narrative, change could not come fast enough.  How long should one accept being treated unfairly?  How long should one keep silent and accept being treated as an inferior?

What Murray sees as “niche demands” I suspect are appreciated as cries for equality from those whose rights and personhood had been suppressed by a now crumbling grand narrative.  I don’t have to list for you the manifold ways this is being played out.  It ranges from vital issues such as voting rights to symbolic issues such as Confederate statues to non-issues such as renaming Mr. Potato Head.  And while I don’t agree with everything I have read in Murray’s book, I do think he is on to something important when he notes all of this emanates from the loss of a grand narrative.  We all seek narratives through which we can live in and make sense of the world.  Some of us look back fondly on the grand narrative of the past (whatever you imagine it to be) and long for its return.  Others, as Murray notes, seek to have their niche perspective endorsed by all. 

I thought about all of this as I pondered today’s first reading from The Book of Acts.  Peter and John are in Jerusalem and go to the Temple to pray.  This is quite remarkable, given only a few weeks earlier Peter was afraid to show his face there and admit to knowing Jesus.  On their way into the sacred space they encounter a blind beggar who asks money from them.  Neither has anything to give, so Peter prays for him in the name of Jesus.  The beggar’s sight is restored immediately.  Those who witness this are astonished and Peter seizes the moment set the record straight.  He proclaims to them who Jesus was, reminds them of how they turned on him, and states plainly Jesus rose from the dead.  Peter then invites his audience to repent and believe.  The text goes on to tell us 5,000 people respond to his message and are baptized.

No doubt these people have some familiarity with Jesus.  Most likely they had seen Jesus, some even had met him.  They heard his teaching and were aware of the miracles he worked.  They know the basic facts of Holy Week and many participated in those events.  They are aware of the rumors of the Resurrection.  And they are trying to make sense of it all.  In other words, they are trying to figure out a narrative through which to understand Jesus.  Peter makes a public proclamation which looks at the existing facts about Jesus’ life and infuses them with a new meaning.  It is a meaning which has tremendous implications on those who hold to it.  Literally thousands of people willingly embrace it as their grand narrative after listening to Peter. 

This grand narrative shaped the world until the Enlightenment, as Murray and others note.  The Christian worldview has been on the decline for several reasons:

· It doesn’t always square well with science.

· Its claim to exclusive access to God seems dubious to many in our age of relativity.

· It has been used to oppress other cultures, ideas, and people.

· At times the teachings and the tactics of Christianity’s believers bear little resemblance to its founder. 

In our day we Christians are just another option in a marketplace rich with possible ways to understand and engage the world.  The pace of this change only seems to be accelerating and either we can sit back in our favorite church pew and complain or we can be like Peter, roll up our sleeves, and get to work by proclaiming God’s Grand Narrative to the world.

If we are looking for a fresh voice to help us find a path forward we need look no farther than the Presiding Bishop of our own Episcopal Church.  Michael Curry has invested his time in this world-wide role talking about what he calls “the Jesus Movement.”  You can think of it as being code words for his grand narrative for understanding the world and engaging with it.  Bishop Michael has described the Jesus Movement in several books which are very accessible, even if your eyes glaze over when hearing the words "grand narrative."  He articulates his grand narrative by positing “If it isn’t about love, it isn’t about Jesus.”    

For me, this is more than a theoretical safari on intellectual plains bearing little resemblance to our lives.  It has to do we how we experience, understand, and live out the Christian faith.  It has to do with how explain ourselves to our friends, neighbors, and coworkers.  But even more important, it has something to do with the heritage of faith we want to pass on to our children and to our grandchildren.  They are growing up in a world devoid of a grand narrative and will struggle to make sense of what they experience.  We have the opportunity to reengage our faith, shed ourselves of the way it has been coopted over history in the service of lesser gods and ideas, and present it anew and afresh to those we love and so desperately seek to guide and to point the way… the way that leads to the life we have found in Jesus.

Utopia

 

Acts 4:32-35

Easter 2 / Year B

I suspect the search for Utopia began not long after Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden once the human focus shifted from getting back to what was lost to forging a path toward what might be.  The word utopia, first coined by Sir Thomas More in a work of fiction published in 1516, is a compound of two Greek words – no and place.  But just because utopia doesn’t exist doesn’t mean people have stopped looking for it… or trying to create it.

Those who seek to create a utopian society typically are motivated by religious belief or social theory (or both).  Of the two, communities centered around religious affiliation historically have fared better.  Those organized solely on collective principles have tended not to hold together for any significant length of time.  Many of the religious communal settlements in our country arose out of the Second Great Awakening of the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries and were fueled by the European Reformation, persecution, and immigration.

One such community was established in Zoar, Ohio about an hour’s drive from where I grew up.  Founded in 1817 by a group of German separatists fleeing religious oppression, it was named after the biblical town to which Lot fled after leaving Sodom.  The commune began with an initial purchase of 5,000 acres on the banks of the Tuscarawas River; a transaction financed by a loan from Pennsylvania Shakers.  All land and possessions were jointly owned and managed by regularly elected trustees.  The group benefited greatly from the construction of the Ohio Canal in 1830 and subsequent business it brought to the area.  Rejecting baptism and confirmation, the people of Zoar recognized no religious observances, with the exception of the weekly Sabbath.  They created a garden in the center of their town based on a description found in the Book of Revelation.  The town’s hotel, renowned for its German cuisine, catered to presidents as well as paupers.  With the passing of Zoar’s charismatic leader in 1853, the community went into gradual decline, eventually voting to disband in 1889.  Zoar was just one of scores of such utopian communities that flourished for a while, then disappeared.

In this morning’s first lesson we find the church in a utopian moment at a point very, very early in its history.  How early?  While the text isn’t precise, it appears to be no more than two or three months after the resurrection.  Jesus has ascended into heaven and the Holy Spirit has come on Pentecost.  While the Apostles wait anxiously for the Lord’s return, they fill their time preaching, healing, baptizing, and remaining watchful.  And they care for one another, making sure no one is in any kind of need. 

The text tells us “those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.”  Everyone sold what they had and gave the proceeds to the Apostles who then made distributions as needs emerged.  Clearly no one was thinking about planting a crop, let alone planting a tree, because Christ was coming at any moment to establish a new Kingdom.  This was not a time to eat, drink, and be merry.  It was more a time to care, share, and remain aware.  All could be of “one heart and mind” because all shared in the common belief of the Lord’s imminent return.

I have heard more than one colleague refer wistfully to this passage, wondering how the early church could get it so right and we in today’s church have it so wrong; what with our allegiance to private interest and capitalism.  But they miss is a central truth about human nature.  We can no more create a sustaining, thriving commune than we can hold our breath in order to live under water.  It is not in our nature nor is it in our best interest.  And, in time, the early church learned this first hand.  Crops needed to be planted.  Oil for lamps needed to be purchased.  Tunics needed to be washed and darned, and darn it if some people did not “do their part.”  Eventually, St. Paul would have to put in writing, “If a person will not work, neither shall he eat.” (2 Thess. 3:10).

Both Jamestown here in Virginia and Plymouth in Massachusetts were founded on communal principles and both suffered several years of depravation until each realized the need to grant private property to its members.  While the residents of each community still were required to work for the common good (such is the nature of a pioneering enterprise), the early years of famine and hardship abated only after individuals could reap the benefits of their own labor.  For better or worse, this is how human nature is wired and any system which does not account for it is doomed to fail, even if it is managed by well-meaning believers guided by Jesus’ chosen Apostles awaiting the Lord’s return.

Eventually the early church’s focus on common property diminished, allowing the intended benefit to emerge into prominence – the care for those in need.  And the early church cared deeply about the needs of its most vulnerable members, establishing the ordained ministry of Deacons to tend to it.  By most accounts early Christians lived incredibly generous lives and won converts more through their humanity than through their preaching.  And we are the heirs and standard bearers of their example and witness.

A few weeks ago I did something for only the second or third time in 34 years of ordained ministry.  I made a general appeal for contributions to the Rector’s Discretionary Fund.  It had gone into arrears because its primary source of income - public worship with regular offerings - had been cut off.  In addition, during these difficult times, the need for assistance from the fund has increased dramatically.

When I was first ordained clergy discretionary funds could be used for a variety of purposes.  In addition to helping people in need, clergy were permitted use it to purchase books, attend conferences, buy clergy shirts, and offset any other number of unfunded professional expenses.  Almost every priest I knew maintained a private checking account to serve as a fund to be used at his or her discretion and most banks waved regular fees because it was seen as charitable work.  As you might expect, this process was somewhat loose and ripe for abuse. 

For the last twenty years or so discretionary funds rightfully have been restricted to meeting the needs of people experiencing hardship.  The funds now are maintained by the church and checks are cut by the treasurer at the request of the priest.  While this may not seem completely discrete, as one person from the Presiding Bishop’s office once said to me, “If you can’t trust your treasurer to be discrete, perhaps you need a new treasurer.” 

Well, as I said, I made a special appeal to you for discretionary funds and you responded.  As of the end of this past week you all have contributed almost $5,300.  Just shy of $1,000 of this has come through the Lenten Mite Box offering.  I am very grateful for your generosity and promise to administer what you have given as effectively and generously as I know how. 

This is one way we at St. Paul’s live into the early church’s concern for one another.  Another way is through the variety of outreach ministries our parish sponsors and supports.  Sadly, as you know, most of this has been put on hold since the beginning of the pandemic.  Please keep our Vestry in your prayers as we meet tomorrow evening to discern how we can begin again to extend care to our neighbors and our neighborhood. 

I suppose two things remain consistent throughout the history of the church.  First, we hear God calling us to tend to the needs of others.  God calls us into communities which need to have caring as one of their primary hallmarks.  And second, how care is expressed and administered changes time and time again.  Old methods become outdated or no longer possible to manage.  New possibilities and opportunities continually emerge.  Individual members of the community sense a personal call to utilize a specific gift, talent, or passion in a way that helps others and glorifies God. 

This, I think, is what St. Paul’s wants from each of us.  We are not looking for you to bring all your possessions to the church so we can sell them and give away the money.  It simply is not practical and, in fact, our facility would not function well as a warehouse.  What we do want is to help each of you tap into your unique gifts, help you to discern a calling, and assist you by mobilizing others who want contribute in some form or fashion to the vision, leadership, and effort your offer.  It is a process as old as the early church and from time to time – such as this time – stands in need of renewal.  What stands true throughout is our desire to share God’s love, especially with the least, the last, the lost, and the lonely.