Impulses & Mortification

 

Romans 7:15-25

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Proper 9 / Year A

I find it to be a law that when I want to do what is good, evil lies close at hand.  For I delight in the law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.

I have always found this passage from Paul to be some of the most genuine and compelling verses in scripture.  Its power lies in its brutal honesty.  It is a self-disclosure of his struggle to do the right thing - a struggle we can easily recognize taking place within us.  A comedian once quipped the bible basically talks about two things: wine and a lot of stuff that is hard to believe, but what Paul is describing here is neither.  He confesses to an inner struggle we all know all too well.

“Wretched man that I am,” says Paul!  “Who will rescue me from this body of death?”, which is a very good question.  The answer for Paul is only the atoning death of Christ can set him free, but allow me to add something to this.

Sigmund Freud holds human beings are driven by impulses.  Many of these impulses are strong and unidentified until they are denied.  We Christians who practice fasting and self-denial during Lent get a first-hand opportunity to discover just how powerful some impulses can be.  All impulses stem from basic human needs – survival, security, nourishment, love, etc. – and so they are both good and necessary.  But they can also become distorted.  The impulse for survival can become a will to power.  The impulse for food can become gluttony.  Freud believes within every one of us there is something he names the superego – a parent-like voice of morality whose function is to moderate our impulses and keep them from running out of control. 

Psychiatrists are finding the superego is not present in serial killers.  It has been destroyed by childhood trauma or simply never developed.  Thus these killers have no conscience, no sense of right or wrong, no feelings of guilt or remorse, and no internal conflict where a moral voice advocates for behavioral control.  There is only unregulated and perverted impulse.  Given this knowledge, we might want to say to Paul his internal struggle is actually an indication of health and well-being.  The mere fact he wants to exercise control over his impulses indicates he is on the right path.

Christian tradition has always made a distinction between penance and mortification – two practices which don’t get a lot of run these days.  Penance is an act of making reparation for one’s sins.  Think of it this way: when you act out on a distorted impulse – say, losing your temper – penance looks like making amends; perhaps asking the forgiveness of those who bore the brunt of your wrath.   Penance is associated with actual behavior.

Mortification, on the other hand, is associated not with actions, but with impulses.  The very word in Latin (which also gives us the word “mortician”) means “to put to death.”  In the Christian tradition mortification is a conscious form of self-denial with the aim of subduing distorted impulses (those desires which, if acted out, hurt us or hurt others or draw us away from the love of God).  It is an attempt to strengthen the power of our own will and the power of God’s will in our lives.  The Christian practice of mortification falls within the gamut of self-denial, abstinence, self-imposed poverty, wearing abrasive clothing (such as hair shirts) to the extreme of self-flagellation.

Paul is right, when we want to do good evil is always close at hand.  There simply is no way of escaping it.   God has created us in such a way that the inner voice Freud identified is there to help us navigate these treacherous waters.  At the heart of the Christian faith, at the core of our proclamation, is the truth God loves us and accepts us.  Yes, God desires our perfection.  Yes, God seeks to dispel our inner darkness.  But no, God does not condemn us or forsake us because our impulses do not always conform with God’s holy will.  God comes to us in our weakness and shows us pure love. 

Jesus, seeing how the religious leaders of his day laid it on thick and heavy, Jesus, observing how they sniffed out the inner struggles of the faithful, Jesus, knowing they sought to convert the weakness of good people into self-loathing in order for their own position in the religious hierarchy of the day might be more firm and prominent, made this offer: “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  I will not lessen the standards, but neither will I impose artificial burdens of human religion as a means of deliverance from internal struggles.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.  I am gentle and humble of heart and in me you will find rest for your weary souls.  My yoke is easy and my burden I light.”

The Christian Church is not a place where hurtful behavior is dismissed without the call to repentance and the command to make amends, but neither is it a place where good people are to be beaten down because inner impulses suggest hurtful actions.  The Church of Jesus Christ calls us to purity of action by providing us with spiritual resources aimed at strengthening will power.  Jesus calls this his “yoke” and in love he offers his yoke to each one of us.

Even a Cup of Cold Water

 

Matthew 10:40-42

Proper 8 / Year A

Jesus said, “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple-- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Lu Mascaro decided to attend a religious discussion group the evening after she quit her job.  Although she did not know any of the members and felt a bit exposed, she sensed a need for support and encouragement.  She writes,

From the moment I stepped into the house everyone was welcoming. The discussion was interesting and respectful, and I felt myself relax.  Then suddenly, someone asked me if there was anything I wanted to share.  Without hesitation and with a quivering voice, I poured my heart out.

While I was talking, someone opened the door.  The dog barked. People got distracted.  I instantly felt ashamed and self-conscious, with an urge to hold my breath and not disturb anyone.  Was I too boring?  What was probably only a split second played out in my head like a film scene in slow motion.  My daze was interrupted when a woman across from me gently called my name.  Looking directly into my eyes she said, “I’m listening.”  I could feel myself breathe again.

A cup of water.  Attentiveness to another.  Simple gestures matter, don’t they.  Mark Twain once said kindness is a language the deaf can hear and the blind can see.  And when you speak this language two things happen.  First, someone else is blessed.  And second, you become a better person for it because, as Jesus teaches, one of the great paradoxes of life is the more you give yourself away the richer you become. 

At my dentist appoint last week, Beth Bagley was bragging about her grandson Landon.  “Do you know what he did the other day?  We were watching TV and he got up and headed toward the kitchen.  ‘Grandma’, he said, ‘can I get you something to drink?’”  I thought about that for a moment or two and then said, “Over the course of my entire life I don’t think I have ever said those words.”  Landon’s simple gesture of thoughtfulness and Beth’s story about it got me pondering much about my self-centered life.

If giving a person a cup of water leads to an eternal reward, what other simple gestures might we do to make another person’s world brighter and better?

Google this question and you will discover number one on every list is write a thank you note.  I am pleased many of you have adopted a Chanco staff person for the summer.  I am already hearing how much it means to them to know you care and you are praying for them.  I spent yesterday with our international staffers and was delighted to learn Wanda Rector wrote a note to each of them after hosting them last weekend.  Marty Wilson has adopted one of the international staffers and that person beamed a radiant smile when I asked her if she had gotten her card yet.

Number 2: Tone down aggressive driving.  If someone uses a turn signal, give them the space to do what they need to do – especially truck drivers.  Newsflash, no trophies are awarded to interstate drivers who pass the most cars.  It is meant to be a place where we all cooperate in order to ensure everyone arrives safely to their destination.

Next, let a mother with small children go ahead of you in a checkout line.  Parents have a lot on their minds and a lot of balls to juggle.  Any small kindness you can show to them means another drop or two does not get added into a bucket already overflowing. 

Here is something which goes a long way – compliments and expressing appreciation.  I have said before churches are gratitude factories.  A few of us here are paid to do what we do.  Still, your kind words go a long way to helping us realize our efforts are worthwhile and make a difference.  Everything else in our church happens because someone volunteers to do it.  A pat on the back in recognition of peoples’ contributions has real value.

A final idea… share a positive experience on-line, especially for great service from a local business.  Social media can be a bad news dumping ground and being exposed to negativity takes a toll on us all.  Why not use your voice to turn it into a blessing garden where people who follow you and see your posts are reminded there is goodness – and lots of it – in this world!   

Researchers have found a person who offers a gesture of kindness to another tends to undervalue its impact on the recipient compared with how the recipient rates what it means to him or her.  Marisa Franco, a psychologist and author, contends “We have a negativity bias when it comes to social connection.  We just don’t think the impact of our behaviors is as positive as it is.”

I don’t know how Jesus did his research, but long ago he decerned the same thing.  Whoever gives even a cup of cold water…  I will leave you with this from Robert Lewis Stevenson: “Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.”  Seeds are small things, aren’t they.  It doesn’t take a whole lot of effort to spread them, just intentionality.  Go and do some sowing.

A Guys' Night Out

 

Jeremiah 20:7-13

Matthew 10:24-39

Proper 7 / Year A

When I was in seminary, some of my classmates invited me to join them for a guy’s night out.  We were all young, all men, and all in training for the ordained ministry.  At one point in the evening we began to discuss other classmates.  The conversation became increasing petty, negative, and critical as my friends zeroed in on Lucy, who drew their ire for being excessively over-weight.  “How can someone that fat be a priest?” one asked.  “In my diocese,” another proffered, “she would never get into the ordination process.” 

I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the tenor of the talk but kept my silence.  Lucy was a friend; someone I had come to know and respect.  In my estimation, the discussion served only one purpose; it alleviated personal insecurities by dwelling on the shortcomings of another.  Just like the prophet Jeremiah described in today’s first reading, a burning fire was growing within me as I held my tongue in the face of their verbal onslaught.  Finally, one of my classmates asked me, “Keith, what do you think?  Is Lucy too fat to be a priest?”

Jim Wallis contends “Prophecy is not future telling but rather articulating moral truth.”  This truth may be applied to church life, to national policies, or to interpersonal relationships.  “A prophet,” says Wallis, “diagnoses the present and points the way to a just solution.”

When I responded to my friends, I spoke as a prophet... as one who diagnosed the present situation, discerned its injustice, and articulated a moral truth.  “Nobody has asked us to judge the moral, spiritual, or physical fitness of another’s call to the priesthood,” I said.  “We are in seminary to discern our own calling, nothing more.  Our call will be tested and confirmed by our bishops and sponsoring dioceses.  If Lucy’s bishop sees fit to ordain her, that is up to him.”  And to put a frosting on my frosty response I said, “I wonder what our bishops would think of us if they were listening to the way we are ripping her apart.” 

Well, it will not surprise you to learn this changed the nature of my relationship with my fellow classmates.  Our friendship moving forward diminished dramatically and I never again was invited to socialize with them.  Perhaps – no, almost for certain – I became the subject of their vicious conversations.  Oh, and by the way, Lucy has gone on to be a fine priest who has done fantastic work in her diocese for almost 35 years. 

Being a prophet is tricky business.  It is fraught with peril.  In our first lesson, Jeremiah laments God has tricked him in his calling.  “You enticed me and I was enticed.” The Hebrew word translated as enticed literally means duped or deceived.  “You deceived me and I was a dope.”  Jeremiah supposes people will warm to his words of truth, but has come to find the opposite.  He is mocked and ridiculed.  He has become a caricature and a laughingstock.  Rather than deal the substance of his message his audience attacks the messenger. 

In today’s Gospel reading Jesus prepares his disciples to go forth and carry on the work he has been doing.  He knows they will be attacked as he has been attacked.  He knows their commitment will create deep divisions, even their own families.  He assures them God is with them to protect them.  Rather than shrink back from their calling, Jesus tells them to shout truth from rooftops; to be bold in the face of resistance and ridicule.  To do anything less will not save their skin.  It will compromise who they are called and created to be.

When I think back now on the guys’ night out, I realize I was not (and still am not) the most tactful person on the planet.  I wonder what would have happened if I had responded by laughing it off, “Heck, I still trying to figure out why God would ever call me.”  Or if had been evasive, “Well, it is something to consider.”  What might have happened?  Well, I might have been invited to the next guys’ night out where I would have had to listen to more judgmental, mean-spirited conversations.  And eventually, I suspect, one of two things would have happened.  Either I would have had enough and spoken my truth or over time I would have begun to adopt the skewed views and values of my fellow seminarians.

The last thing Jesus says to his followers in today’s reading is this: “If you love your life you will lose it, but if you lose your life for my sake you will find it.”  Loving your life, in my story, looks like biting my tongue and biding my time in order to fit in and be accepted.  Yes, my friendships would have remained intact, but not my integrity.  Being willing to lose something important – relationships – in order to preserve what is essential – who God has created and calls me to be – is at the core of the Christian faith and life, not to mention what it means to be a decent, moral human being.  It is the prophet’s burden and the prophet’s reward.

B.H.A.G.s & Spiritual Muscles

 

Matthew 9:35-10:23

Proper 6 / Year A

Are you at all familiar with the expression ‘B.H.A.G.?  It is an acronym for Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal.  The notion of B.H.A.G. is rooted in the belief every individual and every organization needs something to push and stretch it; something to move it from complacency and comfort to challenge and daring. 

The other day I got to wondering if there is such a thing as spiritual muscles… values, attitudes, disciplines, and practices we need to employ to live a Christ-like life.  If there are spiritual muscles, then do they get weak and flabby from disuse?  When, I wondered, was the last time any one of us came home from church with achy spiritual muscles… not sore from being abused and pushed around, but sore from being stretched beyond our comfort zone?  What B.H.A.G. calls us forward as a community in Christ?  What challenge pulls us out of complacency and promises to stretch us spiritually?

Today’s Gospel reading invites us to ponder these questions.  Think about the disciples.  They have followed Jesus around the countryside.  They have listened to him teach, watched him minister, seen him stand with the powerless by confronting the powers that be, and witnessed his miracles.  To use our language, they have been spiritual consumers… getting from Jesus what they need and more.  But in this lesson, Jesus makes a dramatic shift in the relationship by moving them from consumers to producers. 

Look at what Jesus sends the disciples to do: cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and cast out demons.  Essentially, he is directing them to venture forth and do what he has been doing.  And, to be sure, if they do what he sends them to do, their spiritual muscles will indeed be sore.  

· Cure the sick: if you have ever stood with someone through a major illness then you know how exhausting it can be physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

· Raise the dead: have you ever tried to breathe life and energy into a person who has given up? 

· Cleanse the lepers: think about the most physically revolting person you have ever known.  This is who Jesus sends the disciples to be with, to love, to touch, to heal.

· Cast out demons: again, think about the most troubled, most dysfunctional, most unsettled person you know.  This is who Jesus sends his followers to befriend.

You can bet the B.H.A.G. Jesus lays on the disciples catches them off guard.  And to make matters worse, Jesus basically sends them out with no resources or training.  The whole thing about taking no money, no spare clothes, no food, and no staff suggests the disciples are already equipped with everything they need to undertake this challenge.  And if they accept his commissioning, you can be sure their spiritual muscles will get sore, but stronger.  Eventually they will walk a Christ-like life with more stamina and confidence because pushing themselves spiritually leads to growth, fulfillment, and meaningful living.

Churches are interesting places.  On one hand we come here to be healed and comforted.  When we leave here we want to know God loves us and cares for us.  We yearn for a sense of contentment.  In the midst of an increasingly dangerous and chaotic world we want to come to a place like St. Paul’s and know green pastures and still waters still exist.  On the other hand, we sense the spiritual life consists of more than being comforted and coddled.  We know Jesus drops spiritual B.H.A.G.’s on us from time to time and we know we are impoverished when we continually avoid taking on big challenges. 

I once received an email from a camp director which ended with this automatic message:

Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting “...holy cow... what a ride!”

Jesus shares his ministry with the disciples for two reasons.  First, there is a lot of work to do.  And second, he wants them to experience the joy and thrill of life’s ride.  Spiritual muscles, like the tissue muscles of the body, feel best when used, when stretched, when strained.  St. Paul’s does you a service when you come here and find still waters and green pastures.  But we do you a disservice if we never call you to something that challenges you and tests you and tries you and calls you to be more like Christ than you ever imaged or dreamed possible.  St. Paul’s has to be a place where fearful people take up a calling and in the midst of it shout out, “holy cow… what a ride!”   

 

Matthew 9:9-13

Proper 5 / Year A

Plato was famous for posing questions to his students.  Once he asked them to ponder this: Which is better, to be an unethical person with a good reputation, or an ethical person with a bad reputation?  Perhaps framing the first part of today’s Gospel reading using Plato’s question will help us to understand the radical nature of what Jesus’ encounter with Matthew and his friends might tell us.

For sure, in the Pharisees, you have an unethical group with the good reputation.  They fool themselves and others into believing God is on their side.  Such a mindset always leads to self-righteousness, corrupted theology, and being critical of others.  Abraham Lincoln might have said of them what he said about the role of religion in national life.  “Our task,” he said, “should not be to invoke religion and the name of God by claiming God’s blessing and endorsement for all our national policies and practices, rather we should worry earnestly whether we are on God’s side.” 

The Pharisees, to their detriment, never entertain Lincoln’s concern.  When we are capable of introspection, either as an individual, a community, or a nation, it opens the possibility for penitence, repentance, humility, reflection, accountability, and moral growth.  This process is absolutely essential if you strive to be an ethical person or group with a good reputation. 

Now, in Mathew and his tax-collecting cohorts do we have ethical people with a bad reputation?  It is possible to romanticize this group as being a bunch of good guys who have a bad job to do; to find in them or in their social network some quality meriting Jesus’ endorsement; to find in them some trait or characteristic the Pharisees lack.  But, in truth, no such virtue exists in them.  They are traitors and cowards and greedy little crooks who are thoroughly disliked by all, and for good reason. 

The moral of this story is not about judging a book by its cover.  First and foremost, it teaches us about the nature of God’s love as it is expressly displayed in Jesus.  God extends love to all people regardless of how loveable they may or may not be.  It is not earned.  It is not elicited.  God loves because… God loves.  Plain and simple, God loves because this is who God is.

It offends our sensibilities to think God can and does love the sinner as much as the saint.  It goes against the grain to think God’s love is not in some way activated by our behavior… that the Pharisees don’t lose it through their narrow-minded self-righteousness and the tax collectors don’t warrant it by their willingness to celebrate at a meal with Jesus.  The meal reveals their desire to embrace God’s love in spite of who they are.

We are a society where, if you work hard, you can earn a degree, earn a bonus, and earn the respect of those who know you.  It just seems like there should be something we should do to earn God’s love, but there isn’t.  It is our Heavenly Father’s free gift to us, and to all of creation, emanating from God’s very nature.  The question, plain and simple, is whether or not we will receive the gift of God’s love, allow it to permeate our lives, transform our existence, and then extend it to others.

This question is the heart of true religion and devotion.  But how easy it is to believe one’s sins and shortcomings must be atoned; that somehow we must hide from God (and ourselves) those dark aspects of our life of which we are ashamed, over which we have so little control.  Surely God cannot love us if these things are front and center.  Back in the Old Testament, one could offer a sacrifice and cover sins with innocent blood or could pin them on the scapegoat and drive it out into the wilderness.  Such actions may have made a person feel better… knowing you had done ritually what needed to be done to merit God’s love… but it still created the false impression your actions have the ability to alter the very nature of God’s unconditional love.

Today’s Gospel reading introduces us to two groups of characters.  One group is unethical, but enjoys a good reputation.  The other is unethical and has a bad reputation to match.  God’s love engages both groups in the person of Jesus Christ.  No demands are made on either group; save they receive God’s love for what it is.  One group, the Pharisees, cannot entertain this because they figure they already have earned God’s love and they can’t imagine why God would love anyone who hasn’t earned it.  The other group, overcome by the generous nature of God’s love (which they have done nothing to deserve), embraces it with open arms.

And now, not knowing how hot or cold the current cultural waters may be in our parish family, let me say a word about Pride Month.  Like Black History Month, Native American Month, and Hispanic American Month – called ‘Awareness’ months – what I am aware of this June is how much resistance there is in our country toward a particular group of people.  Not everyone feels this way, certainly not the majority (I hope).  But the opposition to Pride Month by some is deep and zealous.  Our national mythos used to hold we are for the underdog; the person who overcomes all odds, perseveres, and succeeds in the end.  We used to cheer for the ‘little guy.’  The LGTB community certainly fits into this narrative.  But now, for some, there is a decided effort to undermine the cultural status of this group.  This week I read about a person who, upon learning Chick-fil-a had hired a diversity officer, said she was no longer going to be a customer because its not “the Lord’s chicken anymore.” 

I am not going to stand in St. Paul’s pulpit and tell you what your stance on these issues, as a Christian, is supposed to be.  I am going to ask you today – and pretty much every Sunday – to consider the example of Jesus and then ponder whether or not your practices and principles mirror his love for all people.

How do you look at religion?  Is God’s love something you earn or embrace?  Is it freely offered to you or given only when deserved?  How you answer these questions is terribly important… as is how they play out in your daily life.  If they weren’t, today’s encounter between Jesus and Matthew (and others like it) would not be included Bible and we would be left to work our way into God’s favor.  

Trinity Sunday

 

Matthew 28:16-20

Trinity Sunday / Year A

Most preachers do not look forward to Trinity Sunday because, well, who really knows what to say about the Trinity?  And finding something new to say year in and year out can be a daunting task.  After botching a sermon on the Trinity, a twelfth-century monk by the name of Brother Elric took a vow of silence and never spoke again for the rest of his life!  Hopefully after today you will not suggest I would be well-advised to follow his example.

In seminary we studied all the ancient creeds at length.  Imagine sitting through a lecture fleshing out how God is neither confounded in Persons nor divided in Substance.  For most people, the Christian faith begins with an experience rather than a system of theological intricacies.  We don’t meet orthodoxy, we meet God in the Father, God in the Son, and God in the Holy Spirit.  A three-fold experience of God precedes a three-fold explanation.  The Trinity wasn’t invented on the word processors for forth-century philosophers and theologians.  Rather, it began in the lives of everyday people who were grasped by faith in the Father, captivated by the revelation of the Son, and filled by indwelling of Holy Spirit.  And, as a result, the lives of these ordinary people were changed forever.

This is why, when we church folk talk about the Trinity, we speak more about our experience of God than we do about explanations.  Our language of God is born from very personal, intimate moments when a Mystery has been upon us; a Mystery we can scarcely describe, but certainly cannot dismiss.

We speak of God as Father, the one in whose image we are formed.  Like many teenagers, I did not want to grow up to be like my dad.  In spite of this desire, I am my father in more ways than even I realize.  I share in many of his good qualities and in a few of his bad.  My physical progression, including weight gain, hair loss, and body aches, mirror his.  In my case, the acorn has not fallen far from the tree.  I am, in many ways, the image of my father – Roger Hugh Emerson 

It is no mistake we use the notion of father to give name to a part of the Mystery we experience as God.  We are, in some ways, created in the very image of the Father.  Every time we demonstrate our capacity to love, to create, to rationalize, to think, to communicate, to build relationships, to make life-long commitments, to demonstrate righteous indignation, to forgive, to show mercy, and to act with compassion, we sense we are expressing God’s inescapable image within us.  And there is something very satisfying, very holy, when we are aware this, in fact, is what we are doing.

Think about the Mystery of God as expressed in the Son.  Jesus takes bread, give it to his followers, and says, “This bread is my body,” and he invites them to eat.  Then he takes a cup of wine and says, “This wine is my blood,” and he invites them to drink.  Think about how our bodies break down the food and drink we receive to nourish and build up the self.  In our Eucharistic thinking, we are expressing a belief the Mystery of God is not only a part of us, it also comes into us to sustain us emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  In an intimate way we come to experience what Jesus says, “We do not live on bread alone, but on every Word which proceeds from the mouth of God.”  We know we would starve without this Word.

Think about the Holy Spirit, which we describe as being like a mighty wind.  Think about how the body draws breath into itself, how some are drawn with great intension, but most without a passing thought, how the lungs break down each breath, and how the blood system carries this life-giving power throughout our entire physical structure.  Breath gives us life.  It animates us.  It becomes us.  This too is how we describe the Mystery of God: life-giving, animating, indwelling, God in us and we in God.

It is not by accident we speak of God in such personal and intimate terms because this is how we come to experience God in our daily life.  We see in ourselves the image of the One who created us.  We recognize how our lives are sustained and nourished by the One we encounter from beyond us.  We sense this Presence moving through us and invigorating us with every breath.  As Paul said, “God is the One in whom we live and move and have our being.”

Yes, all analogies of the Trinity fall short.  True, all doctrines and creeds represent our best efforts to comprehend something which is beyond comprehension.  And still the Holy Trinity is the core of our faith because it is the essence of how we encounter God in our lives.  On this Sunday, we ponder how the Holy One, the Mystery from beyond, comes to us as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  And, as we celebrate and give thanks, we are neither confounded in persons or divided in substance.

The Paracletos

 

John 20:19-23

Pentecost Sunday / Year A

“The doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the authorities.”

Most of us here are old enough to remember when people did not lock the doors of their homes, even when you went on vacation!  We recall a simpler time when church doors were never locked.  Now they are locked almost all of the time.  In fact, on Sundays, the Vestry usher goes through an elaborate process of unlocking only the most necessary doors before the service starts and then relocking them once it has begun.       

In his first inaugural address Franklin Roosevelt famously said, “Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is…. fear itself – nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”  In the throes of the Great Depression, with Nazism and Communism on the rise, Roosevelt took office in a pretty scary time.  We also live in a scary time, what with Covid and mass shootings and political unrest.  Some of our fear is unreasoning, unjustified terror, still there is much to give us pause.

The disciples had good reason to be afraid.  Were the authorities going to come and arrest them, as they did Jesus?  Would they stand trial, as Jesus did?  Would they undergo a horrible execution, as Jesus did?  Cowering behind those locked doors, in no way, shape, or form do they appear to be a small band of believers about to set the world of fire for Jesus Christ.

The Greek word for Holy Spirit is “paracletos”.  It has a double meaning.  The better known of the two is advocate or counselor; a defense attorney who stands by your side when you are accused of a crime.  Less well known is the military role of the paracletos.  In the ancient world, when an army is preparing for a decisive battle, especially if the outcome is in doubt, the commander summoned a person called ‘the paracletos.’  This person is an orator exceptionally gifted in encouragement and morale building.  A trumpeter sounds a call and the army gathers and the paracletos speaks.  If he is effective, a nearly mutinous, disorganized, dispirited rabble becomes an impassioned, confident army. 

William James once characterized the modern world with one German word.  He said we are suffering from Zerishensheit, which means “torn-apartness.”  Surely the disciples experience Zerishensheit in the days following the Crucifixion.  Guilt about their past with all its betrayals, fear about the future with all of its dangers, and alienation from everyone else in the city of Jerusalem – this is the condition of the pre-Easter Church.  But when the Holy Spirit comes, this torn-apart community is healed and united and made strong and confident.  They unlock the doors of the house where they are staying and go out into the streets to proclaim the healing and the power and the love and the joy they have just received.  Such is the effect of the Paracletos. 

As St. Paul notes in today’s New Testament reading, the Paracletos manifests itself in a variety of ways.  Some are spectacular, most are not.  The English bishop John Taylor concludes his book on the Holy Spirit, which he entitles The Go-between God, with this story:

A West Indian woman… was told of her husband’s death in a street accident.  The shock of her grief stunned her like a blow.  She sank into a corner of the sofa and there she sat rigid and unhearing.  Friends and officials came and went [but no one could reach her].  The school teacher of one of her children, an Englishwoman, called and seeing how things were, went and sat beside her.  Without a word, she threw an arm around the tight shoulders, clasping them with her full strength.  The white cheek was thrust hard against the brown.  Then as the unrelenting pain seeped through to her, the teacher’s tears began to flow, falling on their two hands linked in the woman’s lap.  For a long time that is all that was happening.  And then, at last, the West Indian woman began to sob.  Still not a word was spoken and after a little while the visitor got up and went, leaving her contribution to help the family in its immediate need.

Sometimes the Holy Spirit comes in tongues of flame.  Sometimes it comes with a mighty wind so strong it shakes the pillars of a house.  And sometimes, Bishop Taylor concludes, The Holy Spirit comes to us “in the straining muscles of an arm, and the film of sweat between pressed cheeks, the mingled wetness of clasped hands.  The Holy Spirit is as close and unobtrusive as that and as irresistibly strong.”

Encountering fear and torn-apartness, the first thing Jesus says when he appears in that locked room is “Peace be with you”.  The second thing he says is, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  Now, you can’t be sent if you are shivering behind locked doors.  And then he breaths on them the Paracletos – the Encourager.  And the rest, as they say, is history. 

May the Paracletos fall anew on each of us.  May it unlock whatever is holding us back.  May we know ourselves as one with one another.  And may we understand we are sent, just as the Father sent the Son.