Grace in the Wilderness

 

Matthew 28:1-10

Easter Sunday / Year A

The prophet Jeremiah looked on as the Babylonian army sacked the holy city of Jerusalem, burned the Temple to the ground, and led of the majority of its citizens into exile.  It is one of the darkest moments in the entire Old Testament.  But he survived and lived to see the dawning of a new day.  The Lord gave Jeremiah this word to share with all the families of Israel:

The people who survived the sword

found grace in the wilderness.

“Grace in the wilderness” – what a beautiful phrase and image.  It proclaims God’s aid and succor can reach us wherever we are and no matter what condition we are in. 

I don’t consider Windsor Castle Park in Smithfield to be the wilderness, but I encountered an example of grace and resurrection there while on a hike a few weeks ago.  Walking through a heavily wooded section I was struck by the signs of death all around me in the form of trees that, for one reason or another, had fallen.  And those trees, depending on how long they have been down, are in various stages of decomposition; a process which feeds and nourishes every living thing around them. 

Well, I passed by one fallen tree just off the path between markers 5 and 6.  Something surprising was happening.  Apparently enough of the tree’s root structure remained in tack after the fall that the truck was able to put forth new shoots.  In fact, more than a dozen new limbs climbed skyward in search of sunlight; some more than twenty feet tall.  The tree literally is experiencing a resurrection – new life after dying.

What I saw in the tree I see in the lives of so many people I know in life and ministry.  One of the things I love about being a priest is people want to tell me about some of the most profound moments in their life.  I encounter people who, whether they know it or not, are experiencing their own personal passion story. 

Some folks are at a Palm Sunday moment in life – everything is going fine, they have great energy and tremendous excitement.  Some are at Maundy Thursday – having a sense everything is about to fall apart.   Some are at Good Friday – dying a death of a thousand cuts and soon everything about life as you have known it is coming to an end.  Some people who reach out to me find they are in a Holy Saturday moment – lifeless, no way to go back and no sense of anything good to come.  These stories are especially difficult to hear because it is cruel to say, “Oh, you’ll get over it” or even worse, something like “Snap out of it.” 

And then there are folks who are at the point of resurrection – grace has found them in the wilderness and they are once again ready to move forward.  For most, this is not a one time, dramatic event like an earthquake that rolls away the stone.  It is more like the Easter season – something unfolding over time.  The scars of what you experienced are still evident, but seem to have a lessening influence on your life as new shoots spring from you and push toward the light. 

Some folks are at or past the Day of Pentecost – they have endured the worst life has been able to do to them (or perhaps they did to themselves), found grace in the wilderness, and now are living into a new purpose and mission in life. 

I have learned from listening to all these stories how our lives only begin to make sense as we understand Jesus’ life.  What he experienced, we experience.  And when we can locate our story within his story we can live by faith, believing just as God brought Jesus back from the depths, so too God will do for us and for all those we love and care about.  As we see our life in Christ’s we can glean wisdom and direction from how he lived, appropriating it as best we can into how we live day by day.

On this day we celebrate Christ’s resurrection.  Because he lives, we live.  Death no longer gets the last word because there is grace in the wilderness.

 

 

 

The Solemn Resolve of Good Friday

 

Good Friday

Ernest Gordon, a U.S. chaplain during World War II, tells the story about an event that transpired while he was incarcerated in a Japanese Prisoner of War Camp.  The P.O.W.'s were pressed into work constructing a railroad and at the end of each day all the tools were meticulously counted.  One particular day, the Japanese guard declared a shovel was missing.  The commander of the detail insisted one of the P.O.W.s had stolen it, presumably to sell it to one of the local villagers who were constantly passing through the work site.  He insisted the person responsible identify himself by stepping forward.  When no solder moved, the commander became livid and again demanded to know who had stolen the shovel.  Finally he shouted in an uncontrollable rage all would die unless the thief came forward.  He then raised his rifle to take aim and there was no doubt he meant what he said.

Just before the commander was about to pull the trigger on his weapon, a Scottish soldier stepped forward, stood at attention, and said, “I did it.”  Immediately the commander unleashed all of his fury on the man, bringing his rifle butt crashing down upon the prisoner’s head.  He kicked him repeatedly and beat him with his fists.  The soldier sank to the ground and did not move.  Everyone knew he was dead but the guard continued to beat his lifeless body until personal exhaustion forced him to stop.

The other men in the work detail grimly lifted their comrade’s body and carried it back to camp.  There, the chaplain conducted a simple, but dignified burial service.  Later, the tools were counted again at the guard house and it was discovered no shovel was missing after all.

The Scottish soldier who did not deserve to die himself still willingly took upon himself the pain of a horrible death so that his brethren might be saved.  Gordon saw in the death of the soldier illumination into the death of our Lord, who also took upon himself the painful punishment for sins which he did not commit so that others might live.

We give thanks this day that our Lord and friend was willing to pay the penalty for offenses we committed.  There can be no question his death on the Cross so many years ago atones for our sins.  Surely this day leads us to a kind of introspection to examine and ponder the huge debt he paid on our behalf.  The events we heard detailed just moments ago in the readings from scripture can lead us no other direction.

The liturgy of the Good Friday service also calls us to ponder an equally important aspect of this day.  In a few moments we will read the Solemn Collects, some of the most powerful biddings and prayers our church has to offer.

Pay attention to the Solemn Collects.  They are not a confession.  They are not a hymn of praise.  They are prayers for the holy Catholic Church, for all nations and peoples of the world, for all who suffer in body or mind, and for all who have not received the Gospel of Christ.  In short, our work of prayer through these solemn collects continues the work of Christ in this world; a work cut short by his death on the Cross.

The liturgy leads us not to lament our sins, but to renew our commitment to Christ’s mission of compassion.  As the collects come to a close, I will make this bidding,

“Let us commit ourselves to our God and pray for the grace of a holy life, that with all who have departed this world and died in the peace of Christ, and those whose faith is known to God alone, we may be accounted worthy to enter into the fullness of the joy of our Lord, and receive the crown of life in the day of resurrection.”

When Chaplain Gordon tells the story of the Scottish soldier, he says, yes, of course the P.O.W.s were angered by the injustice of his death.  But more than this, they were determined and inspired to struggle and fight for their survival and eventual freedom.  They realized the terrible price one man paid for their lives and committed themselves anew to making sure it was not given in vain.  In the end, his death became their resolve. 

It is not enough this day to look at the Cross and feel personal remorse.  Our Church does not even offer this as a spiritual direction by providing a confession in today's liturgy.  Rather we are told our resolve must be strengthened by the events we remember today.  We are to rededicate ourselves to the mission and work of Jesus Christ.

 

A Lack of Violence

 

The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday

Matthew 26:14 - 27:66

When Matthew tells the story of Jesus’s Passion he includes a vast array of minor characters: Peter, Judas, the High Priest, Pilate, his wife, Barabbas, Simon of Cyrene, the two thieves, and others.  There are a lot of side stories woven into the fabric of the main narrative. 

One thing noticeably absent in Matthew’s telling of this grisly event is any description of its violence.  The most graphic language is used to describe what happens to the High Priest’s slave – his ear is cut off.  When Matthew writes about Jesus, he is economical in what he says about the physical punishment Jesus endured:

They struck him; and some slapped him

So he released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over.

After twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head.

They took the reed and struck him.

And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves.

That is it.  There is no other comment or description about suffering.  And notice the second and last are cast in the past tense: “after flogging”, “when they had crucified.”  The focus of the other three is on humiliation more than physical wounding.  This is not Mel Gibson’s 2004 film The Passion of Christ, which was widely criticized for being excessively graphic to the point of being unwatchable for some.

 

We might want to ask why.  Why does Matthew not dwell on the gruesome details of what Jesus endured?

When I attended various youth group functions as a teenager I recall hearing any number of speakers talk in vivid detail about what Jesus underwent.  What it was like to be whipped.  What it was like to be nailed to a cross.  What it was like to be crucified.  The message was clear… use the gore to grab your audience’s attention and then tell us Jesus suffered greatly for your sins so you need to repent and give your life to him.  And it worked… for some.

So why does Matthew not take this approach?  To answer this question we need to remember Matthew is writing his Gospel to a Jewish audience.  He knows they know what happens at a crucifixion.  The Romans did it all the time and they made it a very public spectacle.  Its violent nature was used as a means of intimidation.  If you step out of line this is what will happen to you.  Mothers, if you don’t raise your sons to be compliant then you will have a front row seat at Golgotha.  Matthew refuses to be co-opted by the powers that be and to be a patsy in their campaign of terrorization.

Instead, he invites us to focus on the bit players; to see how some tried and failed, to see how others were not able to meet the moment, to see how some actively worked to bring down Jesus, to see how some walked with him and waited at his side throughout, and to see ourselves in all of them.  And Matthew invites us to look at Jesus throughout the Passion and to consider how he stands tall and stays true though it all; even to the point of sharing his final meal with the person who will betray him.  Matthew invites us to focus on the Savior, not on the suffering. 

It is a message we in 21^st Century America need to hear.  Kseniya Dmitrieva, a psychology student at the University of Rhode Island, contends today’s mass media presents violence crime in a way which blurs the line between news and entertainment.  News sources have the power to determine what stays “hot” and what will be overlooked altogether.  Serial killings, while horrific, account for less than 1% of all crime, and yet, based upon how they are covered, it appears they are much more rampant.  Dmitrieva calls this “the Frequency Paradox”, which he defines as “the irrational idea that random violent crimes are far more prevalent and commonplace than they actually are, due to the frequency and the dramatized way in which mass media outlets present them to the viewers.” 

Based on media programing, it appears our appetite for violence and crime is insatiable.  Just look at how many shows and movies focus on true crime and real life murder mysteries.  So one moment we are caught in a vortex of grief centered around the latest mass killing and the next we are mindlessly consuming an hour-long show about a person accused of murdering a spouse.

Perhaps we can glean some wisdom from today’s Passion reading and realize there is something fundamentally unhealthy about our obsession with violence.  Yes, it is real.  Yes, it happens.  And when it hits close to home it matters a great deal.  In the fifteen years I have served as your rector only one person in the parish has been the victim of a violent crime, so thankfully it is rare.  There is a great deal to be learned from focusing of Jesus; on who he was and how he lived and how he is present in our lives today.  There is a great deal to be gained by paying attention to those around us; considering the challenges they present and the blessings they impart.

Sibling Loss

 

John 11:1-45

Lent 5 / Year A

Some of us present this morning experience today’s Gospel reading from a unique perspective.  To lose a sibling fosters a distinctive kind of grief.  Only our brothers and sisters know the way back to where we began life’s journey.  Because siblings are united by a common bond forged in childhood, we live with the expectation we’ll somehow always be together. Losing a sibling, then, destroys this illusion of permanence in a way more profound than most other deaths.

Generally speaking, our society does not recognize the death of a sibling as being a major loss.  If you tell someone your sister died, soon the conversation will get around to did she have a husband and or children and how are your parents holding up (as if their loss is somehow more significant than yours).  The subtle message behind this is your grief is somehow unwarranted and, as such, people will expect you ‘to get over it’ much quicker than is possible.

Mary and Martha experience a double shock.  First, their brother Lazarus takes ill; gravely ill.  We can only imagine their frantic state as they tend to him.  In their desperation they send for Jesus.  He loves Lazarus and surely will rush to his aid.  But then comes the second shock… Lazarus dies. 

At this point the sisters unquestionably experience many of the same feelings any of us would have at such a loss: confusion, disorientation, deep weeping and sorrow, the feeling of time standing still, a sense of not knowing what to do, feeling shaky, faint, or sick to your stomach, and being overwhelmed by a sense of despair.  All are manifestations of shock; the initial reaction in the grief process.

Anger is another common response to the death of a loved one.  It may be focused on the disease or accident responsible for the death, the doctors or healthcare system that did not effect a cure, and other people (such as friends, coworkers, neighbors, and even family members) who failed to respond as we would have liked.  Anger can be directed at yourself (through feelings of guilt or regret) or even at the person you lost (especially if he did not tend to own health or in some other way contributed to his death).

Mary and Martha seem to aim their anger at Jesus.  When each says, “If only you had been here my brother would not have died,” it is not quite clear if these are statements of faith or angry accusations.  Chances are the narrative’s ambiguity means there is a hint of both in their statements.  That Jesus receives what each sister says, and that he himself goes to the grave and weeps, validates and legitimizes everything we feel and experience in our own grieving process.  Because Jesus mourned, we know our mourning is a part of our humanity, not a sign of weakness or a lack of faith.

Somewhere down the road those who grieve find a way to accept and to embrace their loss.  T.J. Wray, in her very helpful book Surviving the Death of a Sibling, writes about when such a moment came to her:

One evening after dinner, my husband and his siblings gather around the piano to sing in much the same way they did as children...  I know from experience the singing may go on for hours.  I sit [with others] in an adjacent room…  and I’m struck by the near perfect blending of sibling voices, harmonizing in that special way only siblings can.  A stab of sorrow reminds me that I’ll never sing with my brother again.  The tears threaten then, so I leave the room and step outside in the warm summer night.

Standing alone on the porch in the darkness, I look up as wispy clouds part, showing off a nearly full moon.  The sky, framed by treetops and studded with blinking stars, seems vast and infinite, yet only a preamble to the universe that stretches further beyond my reckoning.  All at once, I know with great certainty that my brother is now a part of that universe, but at the same time, still very much a part of me.  A quiet peace fills the empty places within my soul, as I finally believe what I have taught my students for so many years: that love survives even through the pain of death.  I lean against the railing, close my eyes, and whisper softly, “I miss you,” and my words are carried off into the night.

After that night, I knew that I could still have a relationship with my brother, despite the fact that he was no longer physically a part of this world.  More important, I learned I did not have to let go of him to heal.  In fact, the opposite was true: I needed to learn how to embrace both my loss and my brother in a new way.

Jesus grieves deeply at the death of his friend and in calling him to back to life, Mary, Martha, and others are assured and convinced of the reality of the resurrection to eternal life; a reality over which Jesus reigns.  And, at some point (perhaps a matter of days or maybe a few years down the road), Mary and Martha have to say goodbye to their brother a second time.  Surely they believe they will see him again in the next life, but this doesn’t mean they don’t miss him.  Surely they know he is with Jesus, but this does not mean they are not sad.

Some of you lost a sibling years ago while for others it has been just a matter of weeks or months.  Like any deep loss, your loss has changed you forever.  Some in your position report feelings of isolation because everyone else assumes you are the person you have always been, but you know you are not.  Some sense how others want you to get over it, but you realize it is not something you get over, only get used to.  I hope this sermon will make all of us more aware of the complexity of this kind of loss.  For each of you who have lost a sibling I pray God will use this day to touch you in a profound way.

Seeing vs. Perceiving

 

John 9:1-41

Lent 4 / Year A

Our gospel readings this Lent get longer and longer each Sunday.  Today’s story of Jesus healing a man born blind is, at one level, an interesting piece of literature consisting of seven vignettes:

1.   Jesus heals the man.

2.   Neighbors question the man.

3.   The Pharisees question the man.

4.   The Jews question the parents.

5.   The Jews question the man again.

6.   Jesus revisits the man.

7.   Jesus challenges the Pharisees.

Note Jesus appears in only three of the seven.  This truly is the blind man’s story.

One scholar of John’s gospel notes the man’s story mirror’s Jesus’ own story:

·       People question his identity.

·       He asserts “I am”.

·       His testimony about himself is rejected.

·       He is accused of being a sinner.

·       He combats the Pharisees with a combination of sarcasm and truth.

·       The encounter ends with an ironic punchline: Those who think they can see are blind while those who are blind can see… who Jesus is.

This scholar says the story functions as a picture within a picture – known as the Droste effect (named after a Dutch product whose logo features a person carrying a can of the product).  All of this is to say there is a lot going on in this narrative.  And there is a lot here competing for our attention – way more than any preacher should try to tackle single sermon!  Let’s focus on the end; on who is blind and who can see. 

Throughout his ministry Jesus draws from the prophet Isaiah.  One of his favorite verses comes from chapter 6, verse 9:  The Lord said to me, “Go and tell this people ‘Be ever hearing, but never understanding; be ever seeing, but not perceiving.’” 

Other versions translate ‘never perceiving’ as ‘learn nothing,’ ‘gain no knowledge,’ ‘do not understand,’ ‘do not comprehend,’ “You will look and look, but never see,” and “No matter how much you look, you will not know what is happening.”  When Jesus says the Pharisees are blind, he is saying they do not perceive who he is.  The Pharisees and the blind man see the same thing, but perceive it differently.  One holds only a person sent from God can open the eyes of the blind.  The other holds it is a sin to do work on the Sabbath, therefore Jesus is a sinner.  The old adage holds seeing is believing, but really perceiving is believing.

Sight is function of the eyes – what you look at.  Perception involves awareness, recognition, discernment, and understanding – what you make of what you see.  We spend about 2/3rds of our day with our eyes open.  Given the average life expectancy is around 78, this means we spend 456,000 hour looking around.  We take in a massive amount of visual information; way more than we can process.  As a result, our brains have developed the capacity to use most of what we see without ever considering what it means.  For example, you walk around your house and manage not to bump into things, but never consciously focus on it.  You drive your car for hours and at the end of the day are not aware of single conscious decision you made during the process.  This is seeing.

Perception involves analyzing the information we deem to be important, categorizing it, comparing with previous information, making sense of it, and interpreting it within our larger context.  Much of the time the process of perceiving new information merely reinforces what we already know – the wind is picking up and the sky is getting dark so a storm is probably coming.  Other times new information is perceived in such a way it challenges our existing notions – at last Wednesday’s potluck I learned gravy and grape jelly make for a pretty tasty combination on tenderloin.

Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes both see the same clues.  While Watson fails to recognize their importance and meaning, Holmes perceives their significance and place within a larger narrative.  Watson is blind while Holmes can see.

One final thought… there are times we are tricked by what we are seeing.  If you want to have an existential crisis, go home and google ‘optical illusions.’  You will not believe how easy it is to manipulate our eyesight and to dupe our brains.  Magicians are masters at it.  The Pharisees in today’s story see events one way and are completely blind to any other possible explanation.  A great, spiritual question always to ask yourself is this: “Am I sure?”  Am I sure what I believe to be true is true?  What are some ways other people see what I am seeing?  What are some other possibilities?  If my perception makes the most sense, so be it.  If something else makes more sense, than I will change how I think, how I act, and what I believe.

God in "The More than Meets the Eye"

 

John 4:5-42

Lent 3 / Year A

One of my all-time favorite movies is Smoke, a 1995 film about Auggie Wren who manages a cigar store on a street corner in Brooklyn.  Every morning at exactly eight o’clock he takes a Polaroid picture of the store across the street.  Auggie has over 4,000 consecutive daily photographs of his corner all labeled by date and mounted in albums.  He calls this project his ‘life’s work.’

One day Auggie shows the photos to Paul, an author who has been mired in the throes of writer’s block since the untimely death of his wife.  Paul doesn’t know what to say about the photos, but admits he has never seen anything like them.  Rapidly flipping from page to page, he observes with some amazement each picture is the same.  Auggie watches him, and then replies, “You’ll never get it if you don’t slow down.”  Even though all the pictures are of the same spot, Auggie points out each one is unique.  The differences are in the details: in the way people’s clothes change according to the weather, in the way the light hits the street, in how some days the corner is almost empty, and how other times it is filled with people, bikes, cars, and trucks.  “It is just one little part of the world,” Auggie says, “but things take place here too just like everywhere else.” 

The Roman Catholic educator Regina Cole suggests spirituality is an “awareness of the ‘more than meets the eye’ in our daily life.”  By this I think she means life is a sacred adventure.  Every day we encounter signs pointing to the active presence of God in the world around us.  If she is right, and I suspect she is, then Auggie is a model of a person who is spiritually alive.  He has found uniqueness, humanity, and the fingerprint of God’s Spirit in something so ordinary it escapes everyone else’s notice.

Today’s readings from the Old Testament and the Gospel of John describe very ordinary events – trudging through the wilderness and going to outskirts of town to draw water from a well.  I must admit a twinge of sympathy for the people of Israel.  If I was part of their band and I had been marching through the desert and I was hungry and thirsty and tired, I would be complaining right along with the best of them.  I think their shortcomings begin with reducing the ordinariness of the day to the mere pursuit of provisions.  They do not look for the hand of God at work in the world around them and thus they do not detect how God is, in fact, providing daily food and drink.  And through this providing, God is reaching out to be in relationship with them.

If you have ever worked all day to prepare a special dinner, taking great care to set the table, arrange a centerpiece, creatively present the food, etc, and then had your family rush in and attack the meal rather than dine together, then you can imagine how God feels.  All God has created and provided, and the intimacy of the relationship God seeks to establish through it, is met with the response, “We don’t have any water!”  It is not a helpful model of the spiritual life.

Like Auggie, the Samaritan woman at the well provides us with a very different example.  Yes, she sets herself to a very ordinary task, but she is open to it being more than a daily chore.  She encounters God in the person of Jesus and while he remains somewhat elusive to her, she senses there is something more about him than meets the eye.  She pursues him through conversation and at some point rushes off to tell others about him.  She has not formed a concrete doctrinal statement about the nature of God.  She does not sell her possessions and join a convent.  Heck, she doesn’t even commit to turn away from her risqué lifestyle.  But she does sense she has encountered God. 

You can almost imagine how the conversation is going to go back in village.  In the eyes of the townsfolk I’ll bet she is the least likely person in the community to find God and the old well is one of the least likely places for it happen.  She is nobody special and the well is just too commonplace.

The Christian journalist Malcolm Muggeridge writes that, “Every happening great and small is a parable whereby God speaks to us, and the art of life is to get the message.”  Auggie’s photos and the Samaritan woman’s encounter testify to the truth of his words.  Life is sacred and yet our temptation is to reduce it to secular; to hold God is engaged in an hour of prayer on Sunday morning, but is not found when you are stuck in traffic or doing homework or while taking out the trash.  The temptation is to reduce life to a series of tasks – religion being the task of this hour.  New life comes when we realize in every moment God is reaching out to us to be in relationship with us.  And life is all about getting the message.

So, back to Smoke and Paul with his writer’s block.  He slows down his scanning and begins to take his time.  Without warning he gasps aloud.  His wife appears in one of the pictures.  Suddenly he realizes how an ordinary moment in an ordinary day at an ordinary place is a sacramental moment.  There is more – a lot more – than meets the eye going on around us! 

Well, Why Not!

 

John 3:1-17

Lent 2 / Year A

I remember crawling out of bed one morning when I was in seminary and stumbling my way to the Chapel for the 8:15 Wednesday morning Eucharist.  I was barely awake and not entirely tuned in to the first part of the service.  Locke Bowman, a professor on campus, was the celebrant.  When we got to the Great Thanksgiving he read the liturgy: “The Lord be with you.”  We all replied, “And also with you.”  And then, so gently and tenderly he said, “Lift up your hearts.”  Now most priests tend say these words in the imperative: The Lord we with you.  Lift up your hearts (or else)!  Not Locke.  When he said, “Lift up your hearts” his tone was inviting and it caught my attention.  I almost replied, “Well, why not!  I accept your invitation to worship the Lord.” 

The role and place of invitation is so important in the life of the Church.  It is the offer to embrace the faith handed down through saints and scholars, through songs and scrolls, through pastors and parents and make it your own.  When the Church is truly inviting, people are called out of their Chapel slumber and respond, “Who?  Me?  Well, why not!”

When Jesus says to Nicodemus “You must be born from above (or born again) to see the Kingdom of God” is he sounding a warning or issuing an invitation?  Some would say Jesus is saying “You must be born again… or else!”  …or else you will not please God.  …or else your sins will not be forgiven.  …or else you will never get to heaven.  Or else!  I contend Jesus is speaking of an opportunity to see in a new way how God is at work in the world here and now.  I contend it is an invitation.

Jesus never thought of the Kingdom of God only as being eternity in heaven.  For him, the Kingdom of God is here and now, not just in the great Bye and Bye.  Seeing it and entering into it is a matter of understanding the mission of Jesus and how God works through him.  Nicodemus comes to Jesus because he is impressed by the signs he performs.  For Jesus, it is possible (perhaps even likely) to see the miracles and yet to miss the Kingdom.  In order to find the Kingdom, he says, you must be born again; not as in ‘or else’, but rather as “Why not!”

Jesus articulates to Nicodemus his mission and purpose in this way:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.  Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him

God did not send Jesus to provide an ultimatum or warning; the big “Shape Up or Else!”  Jesus is sent to save the world, not to condemn it.  The Kingdom begins with God, out of a deep love for us, giving what is most dear and precious to God – namely, God’s only Son – so we might have everlasting life, beginning right now, today.  Jesus makes it clear to Nicodemus he must be moved by God’s self-giving, not the miracles, if he is going to see the Kingdom at work in this world.

Our first reading this morning, though brief, is one of the seminal moments in the Old Testament.  The Lord approaches Abram and tells him to pack up his family and his things and go.  Go where?  Just go until the Lord says, “Stop here.”  Is it an order or an invitation?  I suggest it is an invitation and Abram’s acceptance is a sign of his deep faith and righteousness. 

Do you remember Jesus’ parable about the king who invites guests to attend a wedding?  When everything is ready the king sends out his servants to tell the guests the time has arrived for the celebration.  However, each invited guest decides not to go.  Astonished, the king sends his servants out again to invite whoever they can find.  The party will be open to those who want to attend – to those who accept the invitation.

Every Sunday morning we are invited to enter this place with our whole heart open to worship and praise.  Every day we are invited to participate in the work God is doing in our world.  Every moment we are invited to live out the faith of our Baptismal Covenant and be a blessing to all, as Abram became a blessing to all the families of the earth.  When has this invitation so captured your attention you responded, “Well, why not”?