Conversation as Pentecost

 

Genesis 11:1-9 / Acts 2:1-21

The Day of Pentecost / Year C

In settings with clergy colleagues, I have a knack for asking questions in a way which fosters conversation.  It is a skill born both of curiosity and fear.  Curiosity, because I always want to know about the motivations behind a person’s thoughts, the process leading to a decision, or potential paths forward (as examples).  Fear, because I don’t want to come off looking like an antagonist, a naysayer, or an idiot. 

Examples.  Years ago, at a clergy conference back in the Diocese of Virginia, the bishops were being peppered with question after question about national church issues.  It was an important conversation, but it had reached a contentious point and I sensed it was time to rehumanize the moment.  Knowing each of the three bishops delighted in their role as grandfathers, I asked this question, “Can you tell us about your grandchildren and the time you have been able to spend with them recently?”  It changed the entire tone of the gathering.  At one meeting of the diocesan deans I asked Bishop Holly if there has been any conversation about changing the name of our annual diocesan gathering from council to convention.  His response, “I have been wondering when someone would raise this question” (look me up after church if you are interested in the story behind this issue).  At another meeting of deans, when Bishop Jay was leading a discussion on our role in the diocese, I said, “I am happy to serve as a dean for our next bishop, but how do I signal I am also willing to step aside if the bishop wants someone else in this position?”  His response: “This is an important question.”  And now, with Bishop Susan, not that anyone other than me is keeping count, I believe I lead my colleagues in getting her to response, “That is a good question”, which is infinitely better than the thing of my nightmares… “What kind of question is that!” 

Given your experience, what makes for good conversation and what typically do you contribute to it? 

From its root origins, the word ‘conversation’ means “a living together,” “a manner of behaving,” “a keeping company.”  It involves people with differing backgrounds, experiences, and perspectives coming together in a way which enriches their common life.  It is one way we manifest what I talked about last Sunday – being one, but not the same.

And when it comes to conversation, being one, but not the same is a challenge.  I once read of retreat where people were exploring the church’s history.  At one point each participant was asked to visualize an image they associated with the word ‘tradition’.  The responses were varied and surprising.  One person had an image of confronting an immovable fortress, threatening and ominous.  Another image was of an ocean liner moving carefully but persistently through a turbulent sea.  Someone else described encountering a compassionate sage, withered and wise.  Another participant described tradition as being like wandering in a graveyard.  Still another visualized climbing on the limbs of a giant tree that is alive, strong, and protective.  Each person on the retreat had a very different association for the exact same word. 

What does this tell you?  It tells me saying what I mean and having another person take it to mean something entirely different from anything I intended or anticipated is a real possibility.  It highlights for me the importance of listening in a manner which is open and engaged.  It tells me responding in a way which seeks clarification and understanding is essential if we are going to participate in authentic, healthy conversation.

Biblical stories pick up on this theme of conversational challenge and offer interpretations for it.

The Tower of Babel story offers an explanation as to why there are so many different cultures and languages.  It ponders why conversation – living with and keeping company – is so fraught with peril.  Through the story, the ancient Hebrews derived several powerful theological assertions.  Perhaps the most forceful is the notion God wills cultural and ethnic differences.  Chief among these differences is language.  God institutes this divide specifically to keep peoples apart and distinct.  The story asserts attempting to bridge these differences is a kind of dangerous overreaching; a laying hold of a territory reserved only for God.  The story paints the picture of a God who actively works to frustrate conversation among members of the human family; who desires a keeping apart and dividing of company.

It is a theology which makes sense for a time when a small tribe of people is concerned with maintaining its distinctive culture, heritage, and religious beliefs.  As this people blends into the multi-cultural environment they call the Promised Land they need a strong theological framework to keep their identity intact.  The belief God creates the differences among peoples and actively frustrates tribes from coming together serves such a purpose.

Today’s reading from the Book of Acts functions as a bookend to the story of the Tower of Babel and a new theology emerges from it.  The Gospel event of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection is so central to all people in all places and times that God enables the Church to converse about it in every language.  God, who had been the author of language confusion, is now the source for overcoming it.  No longer is God to be associated with just one specific ethnic group and heritage.  God is now to be associated with the Church and the Church is to be broad and diverse, gathering together under the banner of Jesus Christ.  Our new guiding theology holds God fosters conversation amongst all peoples through the work of the Church.

For the Church this means we are in the business of helping people to understand one another.  Listening carefully, being attentive to one’s own unique perspective, and speaking clearly are holy acts for which we seek God’s help.  A collect we use in Morning Prayer asks God to guide us so that the Gospel may be truly preached, and truly heard.  This prayer taps into God’s deep desire to foster conversation – a living together, a keeping company. 

As someone who engages in the act of public speaking on a weekly basis and who participates in multiple conversations each and every day, I am aware of how easy it is to misunderstand and to be misunderstood.  I have been involved in numerous conversations where it seemed like the participants simply were not hearing what each other was saying.  I have witnessed more than one conversation where the speaker did not understand what he himself was saying. 

But I think about those glorious times when a group of people, fogged in by their inability to understand different points of view, suddenly and miraculously are able to hear and comprehend the diverse perspectives of others in the group.  Perhaps you have never thought of it in this way, but this is the work of Holy Spirit.  It is always a Pentecostal moment when true conversation occurs, when people keep company and live with one another.  

 

One, but Not the Same

 

John 17:20-26

Easter 7 / Year C

Jesus prayed, “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they [us who follow Jesus] also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” 

It is sobering to ponder the responsibility Jesus places on us.  Our actions – not just as individuals, but as a community – are to be a witness to the world leading all to faith.  This includes how we treat each other in this place.  It includes how we relate to other churches in our area.  It includes how we participate in the common life of our diocese, our denomination, and the Anglican Communion.  It includes how various expressions of the Christian faith – Evangelical, Pentecostal, Anglo-Catholic, Socially Progressive, to name a few – express a sense of unity amidst our obvious differences.  When the world looks at us and how we are in relationship with each other in Christ, what does it see?

The late Marcus Borg, in his book The Heart of Christianity, wrote about asking his unchurched university students to turn in a short essay describing their impressions of Christians.  He states they consistently used five adjectives: literalistic, anti-intellectual, self-righteous, judgmental, and bigoted.  Not exactly what Jesus was hoping for, is it.  Of course, impressions are just that – impressions.  They are both true and not true at the same time.  While it is easy to see how someone might come to think of Christians in this way, it certainly is not descriptive of every Christian or every Christian community.  Still, it suggests we have a tough row to hoe if we want our faith to be a positive witness to the world.

The oneness Jesus prays for isn’t just about playing nice with each other.  It is a relationship rooted in God’s very nature.  I describe the Holy Trinity as being perfect Relational Harmony – the Three in One and One in Three.  Desiring to share the essence of its relationship beyond itself, this Relational Harmony brought forth creation and humankind to enjoy what lies at the heart of its very Being.  We live into this purpose (to use a wonderful phrase from the prayer book) though “ever widening circles of fellowship.”  In a very real sense then, our oneness is a manifestation of God’s very nature. 

Oneness does not mean sameness.  We don’t all like the same food.  We don’t all root for the same team.  We don’t all vote for the same candidate.  We can be different, yet still be one. 

Our country desperately needs this kind of witness.  On this Memorial Day weekend, we pause to ponder the sacrifices made by so many to protect our great American experiment.  The soldiers who fell on D-Day, for example, did not storm the beaches of Normandy as Republicans and as Democrats.  They acted as Americans and as Allies.  They were not the same, but they were one. 

Today we treat citizens with opinions different from our own as dangerous enemies who want to destroy our country; at least this is the message I hear trumpeted by polarizing talk shows at the extreme edges of our political discourse.  America is looking less United and more tribal every day.  We are squandering an important aspect of our national heritage – e pulibus unum, out of many one; a principle many gave their lives to defend and to protect.

The Christian Church has always struggled to express its unity.  In fact, if God was a professor we’d be given a D- for our efforts, and this would be generous.  But since God is God and God is merciful, our grade is an Incomplete.  We still have time to finish the assignment.

When the church has been at its best it has loved the people unloved by our society.  The Christian Way took root and endured persecution, in part, because the least, the last, the lost, and the lonely found they were loved by those who adhered to Jesus’ teachings.  We desperately need this kind of church in our country today.

On last Tuesday’s zoom call with diocesan clergy, Bishop Susan talked about the need for us to mentor today’s youth.  She noted the typical profile of a mass shooter is a young, white male who is disenfranchised and lacks a father-figure in his life.  She noted it is easy to scream for gun legislation, but more difficult to give of yourselves by being a mentor, a coach, a neighbor to young isolated people. 

USA TODAY interviewed Reid Meloy, a board-certified forensic psychologist, who, after researching behaviors of individuals prior to their committing acts of violence, has identified eight warning signals of potential mass shooters.  While I don’t want to elaborate on them in this sermon, here is what is striking about them: either the person who commits these heinous, unfathomable acts is so isolated no one is paying attention to his troubling changes in behavior, or those who are close to him simply don’t recognize the significance of the changes they are seeing or, maybe, they are troubled but what they are seeing, but don’t know where to turn. 

Is it time for the church to filter out into the community not as literalists, anti-intellectuals, self-righteous, judgmental, and bigoted peddlers of some soft-soap, foul smelling religion, but as people blessed to dwell at the heart of the Holy Trinity and willing to share what we experience from this?  Is it time for us, here at St. Paul’s, to pray and dream and discuss how we might extend our oneness to the people of our community – our schools, our playgrounds, our neighborhoods?  Do we believe our common life in Christ is of value to our world? 

...Passing All Understanding

 

John 14:23-29

Easter 6 / Year C

Sixty-three times.  Seven at a school or college.  Four at backyard parties.  Five in places of worship.  Four at entertainment venues.  Three at a military base or installation.  Twelve at a workplace.  Another twelve at a store or mall.  The rest at various locations.  Sixty-three times, and this is just since November 2018.  Sixty-three mass shootings in our country, each one is listed in A Litany in the Wake of a Mass Shooting on a website hosted by Episcopal Bishops Against Gun Violence.  The list is staggering, sobering. 

One line of the litany reads:

Thirteen dead at a municipal building in Virginia Beach, Virginia.

Give to the departed eternal rest.

Let light perpetual shine upon them.

It falls just after a shooting in Solon Township, Michigan and just before a shooting at a Garlic Festival in Gilroy, California.  The latest addition – ten dead at a supermarket in Buffalo, New York. 

It is truly difficult to make sense of things so senseless.  Some of these acts of violence are rooted in mental health issues, some in hatred, some in pure evil, and some in a combination of the three.  When Jesus says, “Not as the world gives do I give,” I feel a sense of relief because what the world gives is pretty overwhelming at times. 

“Peace I leave with you, my own peace I give to you.”  Writing on his blogsite In the Meantime, David Lose, a Lutheran pastor and former Seminary professor, notes this:

Too often… we think of peace as simply the cessation of conflict.  And clearly an end to violence is a good thing…  But I think the peace Jesus offers is more than the absence of something negative.  Indeed, I think it has its own presence and gravity. 

That Jesus gives us peace tells us it is a gift.  That he tells his followers not to let their hearts be troubled and not to be afraid suggests we receive the gift of peace even when the world around us is doing everything it can to upset us.  Jesus’ peace helps us to feel settled when things are unsettled, to feel whole when life is fragmented, to feel contentment when discord is the norm.

I suspect most of us come to church hoping to find a sense of peace, to reconnect with Jesus’ gift to us.  Often we end the service with the blessing “The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.”  We don’t come here to assess the current status of the world, weigh the consequences, and make a rational, reasonable decision to be at peace.  God’s peace, as Lose says, has its own presence and gravity.  It finds us.  We do not find it.  And most of us find God’s peace often finds us when we are here in this place. 

As with any gift, the recipient must accept it.  Just because Jesus offers us his peace doesn’t mean we are going to take it.  We elect to take matters into our own hands; attempting to micromanage the world around us and fretting at our ineffectiveness.  The more you try to control things, the less at peace you will be.  This is why literally millions of people have found Reinhold Niebuhr’s prayer to be life changing:

God, give me grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

When we let go and let God by accepting the peace offered by the Holy One an interesting thing begins to happen.  We find ourselves enabled to act in the world in a new way by, as Niebuhr says, taking the world as it is, not as we would have it be.  The goal of God’s peace is not to numb us to the reality of mass shootings, for example.  Rather it invites us to respond with courage and determination by bringing to bear the Gospel’s message of God’s love for all people.

I have known about the notion of Replacement Theory for some time, but came across it with more clarity by reading an op-ed a few weeks ago.  It came to the forefront last Sunday when a young man attempted to solidify his control of the world by killing those he deemed to weaken his hold.  For the past few weeks our readings from the Book of Acts have highlighted what the early Church could have viewed as Replacement Theory.  First the gospel spreads from Jesus’ initial followers to thousands and then to Gentiles and then (today) into Europe.  Each movement created conflict within the Church, which eventually was resolved as the faithful recognize this is the will and work of God.  They embrace the changes and challenges brought on by diversity as something God desires.

One of my favorite prayers in our prayer book is found on page 840:

O God, who created all peoples in your image, we thank you for the wonderful diversity of races and cultures in this world.  Enrich our lives by ever-widening circles of fellowship, and show us your presence in those who differ most from us, until our knowledge of your love is made perfect in our love for all your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

This prayer, and living into its vision, is one way I accept the peace Jesus offers to me and it is one way I am responding the sixty-three heinous acts, not just in my prayers, but also through my actions.  I invite you to allow the peace which passes all understanding to rule in your heart and to ponder what the presence of this peace might enable you to do.

A New Commandment

 

John 13:31-35

Easter 5 / Year C

Reflecting on the passage we just heard, Debie Thomas, a writer and Christian educator, asks “If you knew you were about to die, what would you tell the people you love?  What cherished hope or dream would you share?  What last, urgent piece of advice would you offer?”  I suspect it is a question for which most of us do not have an answer and this is probably OK.  But based on this reading, clearly it is something Jesus pondered for some time. 

The lesson takes us back to Holy Week, to Maundy Thursday.  Jesus is sharing his last meal with his followers.  He has washed their feet.  He has shared bread and wine and identified it with his Body and Blood.  Judas has departed.  Jesus is only hours away from being arrested.  What does he want to say to those he has journeyed with and taught for the last three years?

“I have a new commandment for you,” he tells them (the word Maundy is derived from the Latin word for commandment).  How weighty will it be?  Will it become the 11^th Commandment?  Will it be added to the summery of the Law – Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, and soul and love your neighbor as yourself?  Will it be merely ceremonial; perhaps a new way to say grace before a meal?

The command is this: In the manner in which Jesus has loved us, we are to love one another.  It is simple enough for a child to remember, but it is incredibly difficult to put into practice, isn’t it.  It is aspirational by nature, something you aim for but don’t always achieve.  Had Jesus commanded us not to eat chocolate it would be difficult, but measurable.  Either you snuck a piece of candy or you didn’t.  But this is different.  It requires us to discern how Jesus would act in any given situation and then to act in this way ourselves. 

In a recent interview, Marjorie Taylor Greene, congresswoman from Georgia, asserted Satan is controlling the church because Christian groups are providing aid to undocumented immigrants.  “Yes, we are supposed to love one another,” she said, “but their definition of what love one another means, it means destroying our laws.”  So, if we are going to love as Jesus loves us, we must decide which Jesus values more – human compassion or good citizenship.  We are not always going to agree on the answer. 

A month ago I loaned my lawnmower to Kevin, one of the people who comes to my front door and asks for money.  This is maybe the fourth time he has asked to borrow it because someone has offered to pay him to cut their grass.  The other times he brought the mower back within an hour or so.  Not this time.  I have seen him twice around town since then and confronted him both times.  Each time he told me he would go get my mower and bring it back right away.  He followed through neither time.  On Friday I gave up and bought a new mower.

I wonder what it looks like for me to love Kevin the way Jesus loves me.  Should I hold him accountable and file a police report?  Should I forgive him and tell him to keep the mower (assuming he didn’t sell it or wreck it)?  Would loving as Jesus loves me require me to lend my new mower to Kevin should he ask to borrow it?  Should I pat myself on the back for loaning it to him in the first place and tell myself I have already done what Jesus asks me to do?  Again, the answers are not easy because Jesus’ command is more aspirational than achievable.

Surely Jesus said a lot and did a lot to help us determine what his love looks like.  The parable of the Good Samaritan who crosses cultural boundaries and defies accepted norms to assist a stranger in need has something to say about churches offering aid to undocumented immigrants.  Jesus told his followers if someone takes your coat, offer him your shirt; a teaching I would rather not ponder too much when it comes to my mower.

Just after Jesus issues his new commandment he provides an important qualifier.  We are to love each other in such a way that all people will know we are his disciples.  This means, compared to a typical person, something should look and feel different about how we treat other people.  People should look at us and how we act and be able to say, “There is a Godly man.  There is a Godly woman.”

Earlier this year I was tasked with writing a courtesy resolution for Sam Webster who was stepping down from the position of Diocesan Chancellor after years of service.  I talked with a colleague to get some background information and she said, “If Sam said it, you knew it was right.  If Sam did it, you knew it was ethical.”  She could just as easily have said Sam went about his work as a lawyer in a way everyone knew he was a follower of Jesus. 

It is not about wearing a Jesus t-shirt or ball cap.  It has everything with how you conduct yourself and how you treat other people.  If a person cannot look at you and your actions and know you are one of Jesus’ followers, then you are not keeping his command to love as he loves.  It like the old joke about the state trooper who pulls over an angry, aggressive driver.  “Based on all the Jesus bumper stickers on your car,” the trooper says to the driver, “I assumed the car was stolen.”

So this morning we hear the final words Jesus shares with his followers.  This alone should get our attention.  It is a ‘Whatever you do, don’t sell the farm’ moment.  This is the thing which matters most to Jesus: Love one another as I have loved you.

The Shepherd's Voice

 

John 10:22-30

Easter 4 / Year C

Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.”

I was a half-miler in high school; two laps around the track running about as fast as you can for about two minutes.  I have a very clear memory from the first big invitational relay meet I ran in.  It featured teams from dozens of schools, so the competition was steep.  I was the lead runner for our four-man relay team and I wanted to get us off to a good start.  Going down the back stretch of the second lap I was in the lead, but running out of gas.  Runners talk about ‘hitting the wall’ where one of two things happens.  Either your body forces you to take your foot of the accelerator or you discover a newfound source of energy and break through the wall, feeling like you have been shot out of a canon. 

Now there were a lot of people at the meet and most of them were in the stands across the field from where I was.  Up until then I had not noticed them, but all of the sudden, completely out of the blue, I heard my youth minister’s voice yell out, “Come on Keith.  You can do it!”  Well, hearing his voice and words of encouragement helped me to break through the wall of physical exhaustion and finish strong on my leg of the race.

There are a lot of voices out there trying to tell us a lot of different things about the world and about ourselves; some more helpful than others.  We each have internal voices competing for our attention: You aren’t good enough.  Take a break, you deserve it.  I should do something thoughtful for a friend who is down in the dumps.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.  How can we ever know when the voice we are hearing is God’s voice?

I attended two different clergy meetings this past week.  On Monday it was a group of Suffolk clergy.  On Tuesday, our bishop called together diocesan clergy for a day retreat at Chanco.  Monday’s conversation turned dark and discouraging very quickly as participants focused on all the challenges facing the churches we serve: low attendance, lack of resources, dwindling membership, conflict, apathy, a feeling of being lost, a feeling of being helpless.  By the end of the meeting I was ready to climb into bed and pull the covers up over my head.  The voices of that conversation nearly did me in.

Our diocesan meeting the next day had a very different tone.  People were optimistic, energized, aware of opportunities, eager to launch new initiatives.  There was a lot of laughter in the room throughout the day, which is a good indication of health and well-being, isn’t it!

How do you know if it is God’s voice speaking to you?  Well, one thing is sure, God’s voice always contributes something positive and hopeful.  The devil’s work is always as an accuser: you are too old, too small, too stupid, too fat, too poor, too unskilled, too whatever.  The devil’s work is to tear into and to tear apart.  God is about the work of binding wounds, bringing together, and building up.

“My sheep hear my voice.  I know them and they follow me.”  How do you know it is God’s voice?  Because it is the voice calling you to green pastures.  It is the voice leading you to still waters.  It is the voice in the midst of the deep valley saying, “Stay close to me.  I know the way through here.”  You know it is God’s voice because when other voices urge you to collapse at a wall of despair, God’s voice gives you the spiritual and emotional energy to break through it.

God’s shepherdly voice always points the way for us to follow, but this doesn’t mean it is always comforting.  I think often of the image of the shepherd’s crook.  The crozier every bishop carries as a symbol of office is modeled on it and it features prominently in the design of our Good Shepherd stained glass window.  A shepherd’s crook is long (to extend one’s reach) and has two ends: one pointed and the other with a hook.  A shepherd uses the pointed end to prod a sheep in the rear to make it go in a direction it is resisting.  He uses the hook to pull the sheep back from going someplace it shouldn’t; literally yanking a sheep out of harm’s way.  Now, most of the time a shepherd’s verbal commands suffice, but every now and then the crook is brought to bear.

As you listen for God’s voice recognize sometimes it will call you to do things you are hesitant to do.  Maybe you are afraid or unsure of yourself or just in the mood to laze around.  Sometimes God’s voice includes the words ‘go’ or ‘do’ or ‘act’ or ‘right now.’  Sometimes the words function like the hook as a warning: ‘careful,’ ‘don’t,’ ‘stop,’ ‘repent.’

On this Mother’s Day, I hope you have some wonderful memories of when and how God spoke to you through the words of your mother: words of encouragement, words of healing, words of correction when necessary, words of affirmation and praise, words of unshakable and unfathomable love. 

Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.”

Memories of the Past

 

John 21:1-19

Easter 3 / Year C

Christianity stands alone among the world’s major religions for the way in which its sacred texts honestly portray the flaws of its major characters.  It begins with Adam, who manages to mess up paradise.  Then there is Cain, who murders his brother.  Joseph dreams of being superior to his siblings and they, in turn, sell him off to a passing caravan.  Moses commits manslaughter.  Aaron rallies the people to make a golden idol.  David enters into an adulterous relationship with a neighbor and then arrangers to have her husband killed in battle.  I could go on, but you get the idea.  And this is just the Old Testament. 

Today’s readings highlight the foibles of two of the most prominent figures in the New Testament: Peter and Paul.   Three times Jesus inquires of Peter, “Do you love me?” – a not so subtle reminder of the three times the Apostle denies knowing Jesus.  And after eight chapters focusing on the life of the early Church, the Book of Acts finally gets around to introducing us to its lead character – Saul of Tarsus.  And how do we meet him?  By finding out he participates in the stoning of Stephen, the first Christian martyr, and by vigorously persecuting those who are known to be a part of “The Way” of Jesus.

And it is not as if these flaws are incidental to each Apostle’s character.  The Scriptures present them unvarnished in order that readers will know their heroes, warts and all.  Following Peter through the gospels is something akin to riding a rollercoaster.  There are some highs and a lot of lows: stepping out of the boat and sinking, refuting Jesus’ teaching about how he must die (to which Jesus responds, “Get behind me, Satan”), lashing out in violence as Jesus is arrested, and the three denials.  Paul, for his part, refers often in his writings and in his testimony to his past life as a persecutor of the faith.

Why do you think the bible presents its leading figures in such an honest and unflattering manner by constantly bringing up the past?  And what does it mean for us as we (like them) seek to be faithful followers of Christ?

They say anxiety has to do with fear of the future; fretting about all the things you can’t imagine or control.  Depression, on the other hand, is rooted in the past.  It is dwelling on (maybe even obsessing about) mistakes and what ifs; what we rue and what we regret.  And the more you live with this, the more you begin to think of yourself as the mistake you made.  You become a prisoner of your past.

An opposite approach is equally possible.  It involves a recasting of the past in a way which is not faithful to what actually happened.  The other day I read a rather interesting (but dense) review of a book by David Rieff titled In Praise of Forgetting: Historical Memories and Its Ironies.  He argues over time cultural memories of triumphs and defeats, things we got right and things we got wrong, pains we inflicted and pains we endured, “inevitably fade into caricature or cliché as time passes.”  I’ll spare you the details of his thinking.  Interestingly, as our country struggles with how to make sense of and tell the stories of our past, Rieff believes our failure to remember “what really happened” is both inevitable and positive. 

In Peter and Paul we find two people who neither are prisoners of their past mistakes nor have succumbed to the temptation of rewriting the histories of what they have done wrong.  They remind us no one is perfect, which is neither a controversial nor enlightening insight in and of itself.  But they add to it none of is defined by our actions. 

You may tell a lie, but this does not make you a liar in God’s eyes.  You may rob a bank, but God does not see you as a bank robber.  You may have an addiction, but God does not see you as being an addict.  Our actions don’t define us because God already has told us who we are.  We are beloved children of the Holy One, dear and precious beyond imagining to the One who created us.  It is a self-definition we embrace at every baptism.  It means… God sees you as a beloved child who told a lie, as a beloved child who robbed a bank, or as a beloved child who suffers from an addiction.  Nothing you do ever will change the beloved part of who you are.  Nothing.

Peter denies Jesus three times, but he is still beloved.  Jesus redeems him and commissions him for leadership in the church.  Paul murders and persecutes God’s faithful followers, but he is still beloved.  Jesus appears to him and calls him to a new and more noble purpose.  Each is an example of what Oscar Wilde once quipped: “Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future!”  By owning up to their faults, Peter and Paul point us toward God’s grace.  Each reminds us if Jesus can use them, given all they did wrong, than Jesus can use us too!  We do not just have a past.  We have a present and we have a future.

How do you live in the present with the memories and consequences of your past?  Well, Peter and Paul tell us we do so not by moving forward either by punishing ourselves or be excusing ourselves, but by living into God’s unfailing love for us, by building the foundation of our lives on God’s unfathomable grace, and by embracing the fact we are God’s beloved child.

 

Permission to Doubt

 

John 20:19-31

Easter 2 / Year C

Today is often referred to as “Doubting Thomas Sunday” because the Lectionary always assigns the reading we just heard to be read on the Sunday after Easter.  It serves to remind us the claims of Christianity are not at all easy to affirm.  Faith, one person noted, is belief without proof – not an easy thing for the modern mind to do… or for Thomas.

Many Christians act as if a prohibition against doubting is one of the 10 Commandments.  Nothing will make a person feel worse about his or her faith faster than the presence of doubts.  And doubts seem to come in one of two forms: Either a person doubts God will come through on a promise or assurance (like protection or guidance or healing) or a person cannot subscribe to one or more central tenets of the Christian faith – our core beliefs.  Let me say a brief word about each.

More than one person, while in the midst of tremendous personal suffering, has confessed to me about struggling with what they consider to be the “sin” of doubt: “I know I should trust in God, but it is so hard right now.”  My response:

It is very easy to confuse doubt with being disheartened.  It is very difficult to look up when everything around you is looking so down.  Believe me, God gets it.  When so much else is weighing you down, there is no need to heap more guilt on yourself.  Tell God you are discouraged and ask for help.  It is not always obvious how God will respond or who God will send to you to help see you through, but it will happen.  All you need to do is be on the lookout.

The second kind of doubt is more intellectual than emotional and has to do with the teachings of the faith.  Here, the opposite of doubt is not faith, but certainty… and if you have ever known anyone who is certain about everything they believe, you know this is not necessarily a desirable trait.  Paul Tillich, the great theologian of the last century, held doubt is an element of faith – the questioning which is absolutely necessary to our response to God if our faith is going to be anything more than an idol of our own creation.

Those of you who join me on-line for services of Morning Prayer know we recite the Apostles’ Creed pretty much every single day.  Developed in the early 5^th century in Gaul, it consists of twelve statements of the faith, grouped together in a Trinitarian structure: “I believe in God”… “I believe in Jesus Christ”… “I believe in the Holy Spirit.”  A tradition emerged crediting each of the twelve Apostles with adding one line to this creed.  The other day I got to thinking it would be an interesting exercise for some adult group to take each of the statements separately and arrange them in order of “believability” – the easiest to affirm to the most difficult.

At the top of my list would be:

He suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died, and was buried.

I believe in the forgiveness of sins.

I believe in the communion of saints.

I believe in the holy catholic Church.

Most problematic for me:

I believe in the resurrection of the body

He will come again to judge the living and the dead

Another day and another time, I can say more about this, but for now let me simply convey I am happy to be a part of the faith while embracing certain questions about what it teaches.

In this sense I see myself in Thomas.  He manages to spend an entire week with a roomful of people who are rock-solid in their belief the Risen Lord has appeared to them while he himself cannot possibly fathom how such a thing can be possible.  Thomas represents doubt dwelling in the midst of faith. 

A part of me wishes this story could be read on Easter Sunday.  So many people attend that service who may not be here again until Christmas.  I am sure more than one of them has significant questions/doubts about this whole Christianity thing.  Drawing on Thomas’ experience, to them I would say this is exactly where you need to bring your doubts and hang out.  Don’t stay away until you have it all figured out.  Don’t stay away until it all makes sense.  Don’t stay away until there is a scientific explanation for the Virgin birth and the bodily Ascension into heaven. 

Thomas reminds us not only are doubters welcome in the church, in many ways we are necessary.  We don’t deny the faith.  Rather, we push it to new places and new insights and new understandings.  There is no evidence any of Thomas’ colleagues thought a physical inspection of Christ’s wounds mattered.  But to Tomas it did.  And countless many, given the evidence he (in his doubts) gathered, have come to believe.  Your doubts are not doors to padlock and keep out of sight, but avenues to explore, knowing faith always finds a place of serenity.  Why else would Jesus repeatedly greet his friends by saying, “Peace [not certainty] be with you?”