Christmas Eve

God's Gift to an Eccentric World

For no particular reason this year I took more interest in the winter solstice than usual. Even though I have a pretty strong science background, I have always found astronomy confusing and complicated. I was reminded of that as a rambled from link to link on the internet reading about the technical aspects of the solstice.

 Did you know that the day of the winter solstice was neither the latest sunrise nor the earliest sunset, but it was the shortest day of the year? Or that the four seasons of the year are not of equal length?

And to top it off, the earth’s orbit around the sun is eccentric!

Actually, I already knew that eccentricity is a technical term used in astronomy, although the eccentricity of the earth’s orbit is not something I ponder often. When astronomers say that the earth’s orbit is eccentric, they mean it is elliptical, not a perfect circle around the sun. Eccentricity describes deviation from perfection. At least in terms of orbits. Eccentric means not perfect.

When we describe people as eccentric we usually mean a bit off center, don’t we? Although I think it is usually said with endearment. Interestingly, the word was used in astronomy long before it was applied to odd uncles.

Putting aside unusual relatives, let’s stay with the technical definition of orbital eccentricity. Not perfect. The earth’s orbit is not perfect.

And when I think about something so basic, so fundamental to life on earth, being eccentric, or not perfect, it leads me to reflect that imperfection is unavoidable. It is inevitable. It’s fundamental, pervasive. The very planet we are riding through space traces an imperfect course.

Metaphorically speaking are there any perfect circles in our lives? I don’t think so. Eccentricity is everywhere. We live in a world off center, full of eccentricity, rampant with imperfection.

We live in a world where…
Our path around the sun is imperfect.
Our civic lives as nation and state are imperfect.
Our relationships are imperfect.
Our efforts to promote justice are imperfect.
Our attempts to create good are imperfect.
Our faith is imperfect.

In Jesus’ birth, God chose to be a part of this world. To join himself to it. God entered fully into this eccentric, imperfect world. Many babies are described as “perfect.” (I think every grandbaby is described as perfect!) But there was only one who truly was. A perfect baby born into a world where nothing is perfect.

That perfect child whom we welcome this night offers us many, many things in our imperfect lives, our eccentric world. I want to mention one. Although we describe God as perfect, the word perfect doesn’t occur terribly often in Scripture or the Prayer Book. It’s there, off and on, in a variety of contexts, usually referring to something God is or offers.

This passage is from Isaiah (26:3): As it is translated within a worship service from the Prayer Book: O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you. This is the King James translation: Thou wilt keep [them] in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee. Perfect peace. For those whose mind is stayed on God, perfect peace. Perfect. Peace.

One of God’s gift’s to us in the birth of this perfect child. The coming of Jesus doesn’t fix the imperfections of our lives or our world, but Jesus brings God’s own perfect peace into our world. So that we may know and experience and cling to peace, perfect peace, in the very midst of turmoil and discord, struggle and failure. Perfect peace. Thou wilt keep them in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee. Perfect peace is born for us this night.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent - December 22

St. Thomas and Advent

The two great figures of Advent are Mary and John the Baptist. Hopefully, it is obvious why these two are important in the Advent season. They both have historic links to the stories of Jesus’ coming into the world and the beginning of his public ministry. They were both expectant. And during Advent Mary and John the Baptist serve as models for us of expectancy.

But there is another figure who lurks in the background of Advent. He ended up in Advent apparently by accident. And he may not be as important to the Advent message as Mary or John the Baptist, but he is a nice addition. Thomas, the Apostle, often known as “Doubting Thomas.” Obviously, he is not directly linked to the Advent stories, the historical stories that tell of Jesus’ birth or the prophetic announcement of Jesus’ ministry. We don’t have a clue where Thomas was or what he was up to in the days that preceded Jesus’ birth. If he was an approximate contemporary of Jesus, he would have been a toddler or not yet born. We know nothing about his early life. His role in Jesus’ story, like ours, is as a disciple. Thomas, like us, was a disciple, a follower of Jesus.

But the feast day of St. Thomas the Apostle in the church calendar is December 21, which is, of course, always during Advent. We celebrate St. Thomas every year during Advent, just four days before Christmas. As best I can tell there is no particular rationale for St. Thomas having landed on December 21. Evidently when he was formally added to the Roman calendar in the 9th century, he just ended up on December 21. In 1969 the Roman Catholic Church moved him to July 3 so he wouldn’t muddy the waters of Advent.

But far from being a distraction in Advent, I think Advent is a particularly opportune time to remember Thomas. We commemorated Thomas in Evening Prayer before Monday’s vestry meeting and again this past week at the Wednesday Eucharist. But yesterday, Saturday the 21st, was his day.

As you may know, yesterday was also the winter solstice. Yesterday was the shortest day of the year. (Although today is only 2 seconds longer.) Actually, the solstice is determined by the position of the sun in the sky. In the northern hemisphere yesterday the sun was at its lowest above the horizon, the farthest from its high summer zenith. Yesterday was the darkest day of the year.

Not a bad time to remember someone who wanted to see more clearly.

You know the story of Thomas. He makes a few appearances in the Gospels, but is best known for his role in two of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. The first took place the day of Jesus’ resurrection. Jesus had been crucified and the disciples were gathered together in a locked room, frightened and confused. Thomas was not with them. The resurrected Christ appeared among them and spoke peace to them. In their excitement they told Thomas what he had missed. And he said: Until I see and I touch, I will not believe.

A week later the disciples, including Thomas, were again gathered and Jesus came among them. And Thomas saw; and Thomas touched. And Thomas proclaimed, “My Lord and my God.”

In our Episcopal calendar of saints in Lesser Feasts and Fasts and is successor Holy Women, Holy Men, these words conclude the description of Thomas: “Thomas’ honest questioning and doubt, and Jesus’ assuring response to him, have given many modern Christians courage to persist in faith, even when they are still doubting and questioning.” Thomas’ honest questioning and doubt and Jesus’ reassurance give modern Christians courage to persist in faith even when we are still doubting and questioning.

Persist in faith. Even when it is dark. When the sun does not seem to shine at all. Even when we can’t see anything clearly. Even while doubting and questioning. Persist in faith.

It saddens and frustrates me when people say things like… “I’m not coming to church because I’m struggling with my faith.” “I can’t say the prayers because I’m not sure I believe them.” Or they have given up because their faith isn’t perfect or as full as they think it should be. Or they don’t participate in the life of faith because their faith or their God isn’t meeting their expectations.

Remember Thomas.

Probably the greatest stressor of this season before Christmas is high expectations and high hopes. The expectation that family relationships will be at their best. The expectation that our homes will look their best. The expectation that the whole tree tradition will be all that it ever has been and more. The expectation each of us has to be able to give those we love whatever will bring them happiness. The expectation that we will know the joy and peace of Christmas.

These high expectations stress the heartiest of us. And those people who, for whatever reason, feel they cannot fulfill these expectations may slide towards despair.

I wonder if we all don’t also have particularly high expectations of our faith at this time of year. What could be simpler, purer, more wondrous than the birth of the Christ child? Surely as Christians, we should feel and know that wondrous gift of the coming of Emmanuel, God with us. Surely our faith should be full and rich this time of year.

Except maybe it isn’t.

So four days before Christmas. On a day that is often the shortest and darkest day of the year, we have Thomas.

Thomas, an example and an inspiration to persist in faith. What does it actually mean to “persist in faith?” For Thomas it meant coming back the next Sunday to be with his fellow disciples. He could have given up, gone back home. But Thomas stayed with the other disciples. Persist in faith.

The most important thing to do to persist in faith is to keep hanging out with other disciples. Keep hanging out with other disciples.  Persist in the life of the faith community. Continue to meet and pray and share coffee and stories with other disciples. Keep listening to God’s word. Persist in faith. Even in the midst of questions and doubt… (Maybe especially when you have questions and doubts…) Even when your faith isn’t meeting your hopes or expectations, persist in the life of faith. Hang out with other disciples and keep doing what disciples do… Like Thomas, persist in faith.

The Third Sunday of Advent - December 15

Against the Data
Isaiah 35:1-10
Matthew 11:2-11

One of the primary qualities of Advent is preparation. This season is given to us as a span of time during which we can prepare. Preparation. We are preparing, of course, to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

But what sort of preparation does that entail? We are preparing not just for the birth of a baby. Nor are we preparing just for the Christmas celebration. Although those celebrations, both here in church and elsewhere certainly require a lot of preparation.

Something I read this week suggested that we are preparing ourselves to think about things in new ways, to experience new things.

We are preparing for the incarnation, the coming of God in flesh into our world. We are preparing ourselves to welcome the presence and power of God as a tangible reality in our lives. If you step back a bit, that’s really an unbelievable, unimaginable event.

So one way to think about Advent is as a time during which we prepare ourselves to accept the impossible, to welcome the unimaginable. It is a time when we try to break open the rigid and limited expectations we have of our lives and of our world so that we can accept the impossible reality of the incarnation.

As you may know, the folks to whom Jesus came in first century Palestine were expecting a very different Messiah. They had been preparing for centuries for the coming of the Messiah, and they knew what that Messiah would be like, a great leader who would restore their people as a great nation. Jesus was not what they expected. Hence John’s puzzlement in today’s Gospel. They thought they knew exactly who was coming. But Jesus didn’t fit. Emmanuel? God incarnate? In their midst? The Son of God whom they could touch and see? A human being who brought the very grace and power of God to their tables and their byways? That was not even on their radar. It was not only beyond expectation, it was beyond imagination. Unbelievable. Impossible.

We have the advantage of knowing that the event that lies ahead is unbelievable. So how do we prepare? One way might be to read today’s passage from Isaiah over and over and over.

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom. Glorious and impossible. The eyes of the blind shall be opened. The eyes of the literally blind and the metaphorically blind shall be opened. Those who adamantly choose not to see shall have their eyes opened. That just doesn’t happen. The ears of the deaf will be unstopped. Then the lame shall leap like a deer. Not just walk or shuffle through the day, but leap. And the tongues of the speechless sing for joy. Those who cannot speak and those who choose the isolation of silence shall know and sing joy. It’s unimaginable.

For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert. The arid wilderness, a place where people and animals find only death, shall produce streams. The thirsty ground, parched and longing for water, shall become a spring, a source of water. A wilderness, a place of desolation and death shall be transformed into a creative and life-giving place.

This passage from Isaiah is rich and beautiful poetry. One article I read said parenthetically that Stephen Spielberg could provide great special effects to go with it. And that’s how we view these images isn’t it? As either beautiful poetry or something impossible that could only be portrayed with special effects. But not real.

This quotation comes to me second hand, but the great Old Testament scholar Walter Bruggemann has written: “Israel’s doxologies are characteristically against the data.” This passage from Isaiah is one of Israel’s doxologies. It is a hymn of praise from God’s people Israel. “Israel’s doxologies are characteristically against the data.” God’s people experience and praise God “against the data.”

 The commentator who quotes Bruggemann goes on to speak to a contemporary audience (paraphrasing and expanding upon Barbara Lundblad’s comments at Working Preacher) : We see and hear the data of our own world every night on the news and every morning on the front page of the paper. Add to that the data of our own lives: waiting for the test results from the doctor, mourning the death of a loved one, wondering if we’ll make it through the next round of lay-offs. We know the data of our lives and the world around us all too well and we, too, long for a doxology that is against the data.

Jesus’ incarnation is not just a doxology that is against the data; it is an event that is against the data. It was against all expectation or possibility back then. And it really still is. God in human being? It’s still against the data.

And with the incarnation of God in the world comes the transformation of the wilderness of our lives and our worlds into creative and life-giving places. The impossible, the unimaginable made real.

Advent is a span of time given to us to try to wedge open the rigid and limited expectations of our lives and our world so that, when it comes, we can welcome and accept the impossible, the unimaginable, birth of God with us.

The First Sunday of Advent - December 1

Because of Advent, I Know What I Am Waiting For

Just a catch phrase from a reflection by Episcopal priest Suzanne Guthrie published in the Christian Century caught my attention this week as I was looking forward to the First Sunday of Advent.

She noted that when she was growing up her mother and grandmother really went over the top with Christmas presents. But, and here I quote: “But because of Advent, the messages in the little doors of the calendar and the hymns that we sang, I knew this was not what I was waiting for.” Because of Advent, I knew the Christmas presents were not what I was waiting for.

When I carefully read the full reflection I discovered she is actually a strict Advent purist—absolutely nothing Christmas until Christmas Eve—and there’s a lot to be said for that position.

But when I first read just the snippet from her reflection, my own reflections went down a different path. The presents are OK. At least up to a point, the Christmas hype is OK, as long as we have Advent to tell us what we are really waiting for. It is popular for preachers this time of year to decry the commercialism and secularization of Christmas and so on and so on. But I’m not doing that. (It’s a losing battle!) I’m not sure that’s the main problem. Maybe the more significant problem is the absence of Advent. In the midst of Christmas preparations we need Advent to remind us what we are really waiting for.

Advent gives meaning to Christmas. “Because of Advent,” Guthrie wrote, “I knew what I was waiting for.”

As you know, Christmas is already “out there.” Christmas is in the malls and on the radio stations. The neighbors have their lights up. Christmas is all over the place, “out there,” outside these church walls. “In here” Advent is just beginning. And that separation is a problem. Advent should not be confined within the walls of the church. Let’s take Advent “out there.” We need Advent out there to tell us what we are really waiting for.

 So my message is really very simple. Observe Advent. And observe it in the same places you celebrate Christmas. Observe Advent in your living room, in the byways of your daily lives. I’m not sure how to take Advent to the malls, but if we are living it and observing it and praying it in our lives, we will carry it with us where ever we go. Let’s take Advent to the streets. We need to observe Advent in the same places we observe Christmas.

 Excessive materialism should always be a problem for Christians, not just at Christmas time. But giving and hoping for Christmas presents is not inherently unchristian. And, as I have said before, I decorate and put up my tree before Christmas Eve. Just DO Advent as well.

There are lots of ways to do Advent. The Advent wreath is my favorite. Make an Advent wreath for your home. Pray the Advent collect, read a passage from Scripture as you light the candles week by week. Each week the light of the wreath grows, reminding us that the Light of Christ is coming into the world. Advent teaches us what we are waiting for.

Advent calendars are good. Especially the old fashioned ones that feature the prophecies foretelling the birth of the Christ child, leading us day by day towards the reality of the incarnation. Advent shows us what we are waiting for.

A crèche, or nativity scene, at home is also good. Just remember, it is not just a holiday decoration. Don’t put Jesus in the manger until Christmas Eve! And the wise men don’t arrive on the scene until Epiphany. Have them start their journey as far away in the house as possible. The crèche tells the story. It tells the story of the wondrous divine birth at Christmas. And the story of the long and treacherous journey may of us make to come to the side of our savior. Advent tells the story of what we are waiting for.

I’ve made a list of a few online resources that provide ways to keep Advent in your lives. I particularly commend the daily reflections offered by the Cowley fathers, the Episcopal monks of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist. We also have available pamphlets from Living Compass with daily Advent reflections.

Advent is not just something that happens in church. Advent teaches us what we are waiting for. Make Advent a part of your daily lives and take it out into the world.

Suzanne Guthrie concludes her reflection with these words:

 I can’t help but wonder if part of the spiritual hunger of our time links somehow to a lack of respect for the season of longing, deep change and dark anticipation. Without Advent, without the soul’s journey in tandem with Mary and Joseph, will I even notice the Divine interrupting my ordinary life? How will I discern that gentle star rising upon the horizon obscured by premature holiday glitter? If I do not enter deeply into Advent, how shallow will my transformative journey be toward Galilee, Jerusalem, the cross, the empty tomb, Emmaus and “the ends of the earth”?

Thanksgiving

Grateful For How God Made Me

I’m seeing “30 days of thanks,” “30 days of thanksgiving” everywhere this year. They are programs encouraging people to identify one thing they are thankful for every day over the course of 30 days. It seems everyone is doing “30 days of thanksgiving.” At least everyone on Facebook…

But we don’t need computer games, of course, to prod us to count our blessings. This season invites thankfulness, encourages us to count our blessings, to be grateful. Gratitude is a very good thing. And certainly each one of us has way more than 30 things to be grateful for.

Some of you may remember that last year I created a scheme with five stages of thanksgiving. Gratitude was stage two, one up from clueless entitlement. Stage three was donor appreciation— being grateful that someone has given us what we have. Stages four and five involve us making a response. Expressing our thanksgiving to the donor and finally sharing with others what we’ve been given.

But back to gratitude. These 30 day projects are good. We need to count our blessings. It occurs to me that we probably cycle through stages 2 through 5 over and over again. But we need to start with gratitude.

Reading what people have posted on Facebook, it’s mostly what you’d expect. People are thankful for family, the beauty of nature, freedom, friendship, the Thanksgiving feast or a favorite food. We all have much to be grateful for. I want to take that sort of list and stretch it just a bit.

One. In addition to gratitude for the abundance of the Thanksgiving table… In addition to gratitude for all of the people who planted and tended and transported that food to our tables…. In addition to gratitude for fertile soil and refreshing rains that nurture the growth of the food that sustains us… in addition to gratitude for these things, I’m grateful that God created us with senses of taste and smell. God created us with a capacity to enjoy food, beyond just eating it. I’m grateful for all of our senses, but Thanksgiving evokes taste and smell in particular. Smells and tastes that bring us joy; that nurture our souls as well as our bodies. And because we have the capacity to taste and see and smell, we also have the promise our senses may bring us new tastes, new joys yet ahead.

Two. In addition to gratitude for the blessings of the particular family members and friends who are a part of my life, I am grateful that God created us with the capacity and the yearning for friendship and love. God created us with a desire and an ability to form relationships. Relationships that enable us to be more than we could ever be on our own. And it is this capacity for relationships that enables to know God with us in our lives.

Three. In addition to gratitude for all of God’s creation, I am grateful for the spark of creativity that is within us all. Within us because we have been created in the image of the creator God. We can create. Creativity is a part of who we all are. This means we can be co-creators with God. New music, new art, new technical wonders are yet to be created.

Four. In addition to gratitude for the freedoms I enjoy in particular as a citizen of this country, I am grateful that God created human beings with a passion for justice and freedom. We are free because God created human beings with a passion for justice and freedom. And because God created us with a passion for justice and freedom this ensures that gratitude for freedom will not stop with us today in this country. In the future other peoples will come to have occasion to be thankful for new freedom and justice.

This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for all God has given me, but perhaps more profoundly, I am grateful for how God has created all of us. I am grateful that we have been created with the capacity for joy and wonder and the yearning to nurture our souls. And I’m grateful that we have been created in such a way as we have reason and cause to hope. To hope for new joys and wonders, to hope for richer relationships and an ever deepening faith. To hope for justice and peace and the coming of God’s kingdom.

Last Sunday after Pentecost - November 24

Time's Arrow, Time's Cycle

Today is the Last Sunday after Pentecost, the last Sunday of the church year. It is also informally known as Christ the King Sunday. Hence the references in the Gospel to Christ as King and to the Kingdom.

Thinking about the church calendar led me to think about time in general. There is a book by Stephen Jay Gould which is titled: “Time’s Arrow, Time’s Cycle.” Two great images or metaphors for time. Time as arrow. Time as cycle. Gould died just a few years ago. By training, he was a paleontologist, but he wrote extensively for both popular and scientific audiences.

Time as arrow; time as cycle. We recognize and experience both of these qualities of time in our life in the church. Time as cycle. A cycle, of course, is a pattern that repeats itself over and over again.

We experience time’s cycle in the Daily Office as it is offered to us in the Book of Common Prayer. Daily Morning and Evening prayer. As we pray the dawning and setting of each day, day after day, we experience time as cycle. And there is comfort and a sort of anchor in the routine of the cycle. And reassurance that each new dawn will come. Another book I like the title of is a book about Benedictine spirituality entitled “Always We Begin Again.” Renewal, reconciliation… are offered to us again and again and again.

Our weekly celebration of the Holy Eucharist on the Lord’s Day is a manifestation of time’s cycle. You may know that in the church, the number eight signifies fulfillment. The full cycle of Sunday through to the next Sunday. We celebrate the octave of Easter. Easter through the next Sunday, a sign of the fulfillment offered in the resurrection hope.

And, of course, there is the yearly cycle of the church calendar. One cycle ends today but another begins next Sunday. The cycle of seasons in the church calendar… Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost… remind us of the great cycles of life and remind us that we are connected to God throughout all of the seasons of our lives.

By definition, cycles are infinitely repetitive. An arrow, on the other hand, has direction. It has a beginning and an end. It starts in one place and ends in another. We all experience time as arrow, of course, as we age, living our lives as a former priest of mine used to say from the death we did not request to the death we cannot escape. But for us as Christians, time as arrow is particularly important because we affirm the arrow’s trajectory is in God’s hand. The purpose and destination of time’s arrow are in God’s hands. We move from creation to kingdom, in our individual lives and in all that is. We are headed for something. God’s kingdom.

Our diocesan convention was Friday and yesterday. Bishop Lee talked about time’s arrow a lot. In a way, it was the theme of the convention. He didn’t use the language of time’s arrow, but it was what he was talking about in his sermon at the Eucharist and in his address to convention. His sermon was all about the positive nature of change. Change is an inevitable aspect of time as arrow.

The theme of creation was “Behold, I make all things new.” Thinking about time’s arrow, listen to this excerpt from Bishop Lee’s address to convention:

The theme for this 176th convention is that we are doing a new thing. Actually, I think that's not quite the title I want to use. I think I'd rather say, and I'll proclaim it here right now: God is doing a new thing. God is always doing new things. Our scriptures, the vast sweep of the contemplative tradition, the mystery of Christ's death and resurrection itself and the sending of the Holy Spirit -- they all testify to the truth of it. God is always doing a new thing, in creation and its ongoing renewal, in the evolution of human culture, in the community of faith, in our own individual lives. God is the prime mover, the creator and sustainer of all that is or every will be, and God's mission is the repair, the restoration, the re-newing of that creation into a right relationship with himself. The new thing is God's project and we who have been redeemed by God's unexpected action in Jesus, we have the staggering invitation to join in God's mission of making all things new. That's what we're for, that's what all of this is all about. There's a phrase ascribed to everyone from Abraham Lincoln to the management guru Peter Drucker, "The best way to predict the future is to create it." The Christian faith proclaims that God invites us to be nothing less than co-creators....

A friend of this diocese, the author Diana Butler Bass said to me once that out of all sins nostalgia may be one of the most pernicious. Nostalgia says that the best has already happened. But the God we worship, the God made known to us in Christ, the God who has not and never will leave us, that God is the one who makes all things eternally new. The best is always yet to be. I give thanks to serve with you as a people who are daring to believe that the future belongs to God and so do we.

The Twenty-sixth Sunday after Pentecost - November 17

What We Can Become
Isaiah 65:17-25
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Luke 21:5-19

As a girl, I occasionally watched the original “Let’s Make a Deal,” with Monty Hall. I haven’t seen any of the more recent spin offs. Memories of the show popped into my head as I was considering this week’s sermon. On a day when our collect commends “all holy Scripture” to us for our learning, I was not excited about preaching on any of the lessons. Between the Old Testament lesson from Isaiah, the epistle from second Thessalonians and Luke’s gospel I felt like the contestants randomly picked Door #1, Door #2 or Door #3.

And I might ask you, for your sermon today would you like Door #1, Door #2 or Door #3? On the game show, the contestants don’t know, of course, what’s hidden behind the doors. We have equally little control over the readings that are presented to us by the lectionary on a given Sunday. A lot of thought has gone into the development of the lectionary, however. And I have said before, and would say again even today, one of the great strengths of a set lectionary is that it forces us to deal with passages in Scripture we might rather avoid. So let’s look behind each of the doors.

Behind door #1 we have a reading from what is often called Third Isaiah. The Biblical book we call Isaiah is a compilation of several writers. It’s a glorious image of new heavens and a new earth: Jerusalem (!) a joy with no more weeping. No more infant mortality or premature death. No more hunger. No more hurtfulness or destruction. And the wolf and the lamb will feed together. Glorious, yes, but about a realistic as me winning the grand prize on a game show. How can I preach this vision when it is so far from the reality of the world we live in?

Behind door #2 is a doozy of a stewardship sermon. Maybe it’s a good thing the vestry did not specifically charge me with a stewardship sermon this year. This isn’t one I’d really like to preach. Writing to the Christians in Thessalonica, Paul is very critical of people whom he calls idle busybodies. And to the Christian community, he says: “keep away from believers who are living in idleness and not according to the tradition that they received from us.” In this passage, Paul is not talking about withholding government entitlements, although some have interpreted it that way. He’s talking about people who don’t pledge… The context is the common life and mission of the Christian community. Paul is talking about folks who do not offer their talents and the fruits of their labor for the support and mission of the Christian community.

Moving on to door #3. This passage from Luke’s gospel is meant to be reassuring. People are worried about the end times. And Luke offers Jesus’ words of assurance. You don’t need to worry about the end of time. Before it comes there will be wars and insurrections, great earthquakes, famines and plagues, and dreadful portents from heaven. Don’t worry. Before the end times, you will be arrested and persecuted and betrayed by your family… Don’t worry.

We’ve got one more week of this before Advent!

So which sermon would you like? Door #1, door #2, or door #3?

On a day when the collect does encourage us to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest Holy Scripture, let’s spend a little more time with each lesson.

There is a theme. The future determines how we live in the present. That’s hard to put into practice, but it’s the Christian perspective. God’s hope for us, God’s promise to us affects how we live today. We are sustained and motivated, in the present, not by what we have been, but by what we can become.

In reading on these passages I learned something that helps with the Isaiah passage. It is a hymn exalting the temple rather than strict prophecy. One commentator writes: “The motifs in the text are ones found in other ancient Near Eastern texts that exalted temples. Temples were viewed as the residence of the deity; in other words, built metaphors that symbolized their belief that their god was in their midst. Temple hymns viewed the earthly temple as a derivative of the deity’s true residence in heaven.” Worshiping in the temple, people encounter the heavenly vision. Within worship they see and experience God’s desire for God’s people and for creation.

So, looking again at Isaiah, people know that when they are working to reduce hunger and infant mortality, they are doing God’s work, they are helping God’s desire come to fruition.

The wolf and the lamb may never feed together in the natural world around us, but whenever we work for reconciliation between people for whom enmity has become a seemingly inevitable way of life, we are working for the fulfillment of God’s desire, bringing wolf and lamb together. I can think of quite a few examples of people in our contemporary world for whom enmity has become a way of life:

• Israeli and Palestinian. 
• Al Qaida and American. 
• (This is not a joke.) Tea party and liberal democrat. 
• Rival gangs in Chicago. 
• Estrangements within some families. 

There are things we can do. We may not have a place at international negotiating tables, but we can be thoughtful in the way we filter the news. In the way we speak of others. We can help the heavenly vision shine beyond the temple and into the world.

Moving on to Second Thessalonians. We don’t really know who the idle busybodies were or why they were disrupting and/or not contributing to the mission of the Christian community. Maybe they thought the end was near and assumed there was no need to tend to the present. Paul is very clear: the end is not an excuse for idleness; it is motivation to greater intensity. An awareness of the future end or fulfillment of time should encourage Christians to take more seriously the Christian life and community. If the future on our horizon is not about juggling this week’s calendar or the stresses of the holiday, but rather is about the second coming… well all of a sudden the Christian life and supporting and living that life within the Christian community shoots up quite a few notches on the priority scale. And the thing is, for us today, making the Christian life and support of the Christian community higher priorities will help with all of those other things.

And Jesus in Luke’s Gospel simply says, persevere. Perseverance is a Christian virtue. The Gospel was written after the fall of the temple in a time of trial for the early Christians. What Jesus predicts in Luke has already happened. Jesus says: I have not abandoned you. Persevere. “By your endurance you will gain your souls.” At least for me, this phrase does not mean that by enduring we will earn salvation. It is based in the presence. As we endure, we will grow our souls. Endurance nurtures and strengthens the soul. But a vision and promise of God’s future kingdom helps motivate endurance.

These weeks at the end of the church year have the potential to powerfully inspire us. They urge us to look forward, and to live in ways that bring God’s future into the present. That’s really what living faithfully is all about. To be sustained and motivated, in the present, not by what we have been, but by what we can become.

All Saints' Sunday - November 3

People the Lights Shine Through

We are celebrating All Saints’ Day today. Of the seven Principal Feasts in our calendar, it is the only one that the Prayer Book allows us to transfer from its appointed day—November 1—to the following Sunday.

Reading from Holy Women, Holy Men, our book for the calendar of saints: The Church is “the communion of saints”, that is, a people made holy through their mutual participation in the mystery of Christ. This communion exists through history, continues in the present, and endures beyond the grave and gate of death into heaven, for God is not a God of the dead but of the living, and those still on their earthly pilgrimage continue to have fellowship with those whose work is done. The pilgrim Church and the Church at rest join in watching and praying for that great day when Christ shall come again to change and make perfect our common humanity in the image of Christ’s risen glory.

The Church, us, is the communion of saints. We are saints. Made holy, by God, through our mutual participation in the mystery of Christ. All the way back to the Old Testament, although sainthood would have been described a bit differently, the faithful, the saints were all those who are in relationship with God. God makes God’s people saints.

For another different, but complementary definition of sainthood, I want to share a story. This story has circulated around the church for a while. You’ve either heard a hundred times or maybe none. In any case, it bears repeating.

It takes place in a church like ours, where we are surrounded every time we gather for worship by saints depicted in stained glass windows. The Rector calls children forward to talk about saints and she asks them: Who are the saints? She probably hopes they will say: “We are!” or, “All of us in the church are the saints.” Those are good answers. But one child says: “Saints are people the light shines through.” Saints are people the light… shines… through… Saints are people God’s light shines through.

Last night at the All Souls’ Day service I talked about the faithful departed being part of the glorious company of the saints in light. Today I’m talking about the faithful living. The faithful alive are part of the glorious company of saints whom “the light shines through.”

We are saints by virtue of our baptism and our participation in the fellowship and communion of the church. But to live more saintly… If we want to live better as saints, it seems to me it’s not about developing more heroic spirituality or faith; it’s about letting the light, God’s light shine through. It’s not about how we can become stronger or more heroic; it’s about how we can become better at letting God’s light shine through.

So to carry this metaphor a bit further, it seems to me we need to do two basic things if we are to live as saints, as people who let God’s light shine through us into the world, into the lives of others. If we are to be people who transmit and share God’s light with other people, two things need to happen.

First, we need to stand in the light. For the light to shine through us, it needs to shine on us. We need to stand near the light. And second, we need to be transparent.

So there are all sorts of ways to stand in the light of God.

• We can study and learn from these saints around us in our windows. They shine God’s light on us. We can learn from and seek inspiration from their stories and their example.
  
• Or you can stand next to, spend time with other living saints in your lives. You know who they are. Maybe some are here in this church today. Stand next to the people who shine with God’s light for you.
  
• Participate in the Body of Christ. Christ’s light shines here. In the fellowship and sacraments of the church.
  
• Read the Bible. The light of God shines brightly from the words of Scripture.
  
• Stay close to God and close to God’s people. Stand near the light of God. 

And how do we be transparent, so that the light of God that shines on us may shine through us to bring God’s light to others?

• Sin is what darkens us, makes us opaque. Confession and reconciliation are the antidote to sin, the process by which the dark, opaque places within us become transparent windows through which God’s light may shine. Confess your sins and seek reconciliation.
  
• And pray. Prayer in general, I think, creates transparency. Maybe this is the best reason to pray. All sorts of prayer—intercession, thanksgiving, adoration. Whenever we pray, we open ourselves to God. We open up patches of transparency where God can get into us and shine through us. When we pray, we become transparent 

Saints are people the light shines through. So stay near the light and be transparent, so that God’s light may shine through you and into the world.

All Faithful Departed (All Souls' Day) - November 2

The Glorious Company of the Saints in Light

All sorts of cultural traditions, liturgical traditions and superstitions are associated with this day, November 2, known as All Souls’ Day. In our calendar it is called All Faithful Departed. I have resisted celebrating it in the parish in part because I don’t like to differentiate between saints. Why should the famous saints get their own day, All Saints’ Day, and the rest of us are shunted off like a postscript to the next day? We are ALL saints, so ALL SAINTS’ DAY should be enough.

A number of things led me to reconsider that position. As I have said, I’ve come to think that All Souls’ Day presents an opportunity to do powerful pastoral liturgy.

As a liturgical celebration, it’s new to me, so I’ve been reading up. Any commemoration of this day was abolished at the time of the Reformation because it was associated with Roman Catholic abuses of masses for the dead. But it has found its way back into our calendar. It seems to meet a need. Guidelines for liturgical rituals for this day vary. Some stress this service as a Requiem. Others emphasize its association with All Saints’ Day. It is both.

And it seems to me that may be the most important message of this day. This day, this commemoration, is both requiem for the dead and celebration of the communion of all saints. And it reminds us that every Requiem service is a Saints’ day service. A service commemorating the saint who has died. We talk a lot about burial services as Easter services, and of course they are primarily services of the resurrection. But every burial service is also a saints’ day service. We remind ourselves of that today. You know we celebrate the famous saints on their death days… the day they entered into the “glorious company of the saints in light.”

The glorious company of the saints in light. That phrase is from the commendation that we say at every burial service. “Into your hands we commend your servant: Receive her in the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and in to the glorious company of the saints in light.”

All the faithful departed are now among the saints in light. And tonight we surround our memories of them with light to help us remember that they are among the glorious company of the saints in light. Saints and light go together.

Light is powerful. Literally and metaphorically. Light brings hope, casting out darkness. Even the tiniest candle cannot be defeated by the dark. Light is unconquerable. Light illuminates, making the truth of God’s love clear and radiant. Light guides, showing the path that is steady and safe. Light warms and enfolds. And I’m not sure why, but light celebrates. Light’s shimmering brightness enkindles rejoicing.

Today we remember that all of the faithful departed are the glorious company of the saints in light.

The Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost - October 20

Perseverance
Jeremiah 31:27-34
Psalm 119:97-104
2 Timothy 3:14 - 4:5
Luke 18:1-8

Perseverance seems to be the word of the day throughout today’s propers. Perseverance is a theme in the collect and in all of the Scripture readings for this Sunday. Perseverance.

It’s in the collect: Almighty and everlasting God… preserve the works of your mercy, that your Church throughout the world may persevere with steadfast faith in the confession of your Name…

The prophet Jeremiah is all about perseverance. As gloomy as he often is, his fundamental message is all about persevering in hope and in the confidence of God’s love for God’s people. He lived and prophesied in difficult times for the Hebrew people, and he certainly didn’t shy away from laying bare their plight or threatening the dire consequences of their lack of faithfulness or righteousness. But he never lost his conviction of God’s love for God’s own people. And in today’s reading he encourages them to persevere in hope. For the days are SURELY coming when a new covenant will be restored. The days are SURELY coming when God will plant seeds and God’s people will grow and flourish again. Persevere in hope.

At first glance, you may not see the theme of perseverance in the psalm. But I would say it embodied in the very psalm itself. Note that we read verses 97 – 104. It continues on through verse 176. Psalm 119 is the longest of the psalms and the longest chapter in the entire Hebrew Bible. It is an acrostic. Each letter of the Hebrew Bible, and there are 22, is given 8 lines of poetry, each of the 8 lines beginning with that letter. The eight verses we read together this morning are actually four lines of Hebrew poetry. So we read one half of one of the 22 sections in the acrostic.

Furthermore, one scholar writes: “The poetic language is highly formulaic and rather routine. It also should be said that some of the acrostic composition is mechanical… the text is repetitious and the language stereotypical…” Praying this psalm is an act of perseverance. And remember, the psalms have always been a part of worship. The people pray them together in worship.

We’ve been reading our way through 2 Timothy for several weeks. In today’s passage the author is winding up with final exhortations, including the charge: “Proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable…” Be persistent in proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ. Persevere no matter what.

And the Gospel parable provides encouragement to persevere in prayer. Be persistent even in the face of disappointment. Do not hesitate to “bother” God with your prayers over and over and over again. Remember, Jesus says, God cares for you so much more than some atheist, unjust judge. God IS listening. The efficacy of your prayers may not come in the way or time that you might wish. But persevere in prayer.

Perseverance has been identified as a Christian virtue. In the Roman Catholic accounting, it is one of the seven virtues, although often described as “diligence.” It is the opposite of sloth.

Perseverence. It’s about not giving up. Not losing heart. Not letting indifference overcome you.

Persevere! All of these readings and prayers encourage us today to persevere. Just as they encouraged earlier people of faith to persevere.

Which leads me to consider another message that these readings offer to us, along with the general call to persevere. These readings remind us that God’s people… faithful people have found themselves in situations requiring perseverance… for ever. That’s worth remembering.

Jeremiah lived in the 6th century BC. The psalms are difficult to date; it may possibly be older than Jeremiah’s words. 2 Timothy and Luke of course come from the early days of the Christian church. The collect is derived from a liturgical work known as the Gelasian sacramentary. The oldest manuscript dates from the 8th century.

All of which is to say: We should not expect the Christian life, the life of faith, to be free of situations calling for perseverance. It never has been before. God’s people have always needed to persevere. The life of faith is not about our individual comfort or immediate happiness. It is about more than me and more than now.

Throughout the recorded history of faithful people, there have been times that try women’s souls. There have been times of social or political upheaval that threaten God’s people.

On a lighter note, the psalm reminds us that there have always been times in corporate worship that at least some people find boring or not edifying. Sometimes worship requires perseverance.

 Proclaiming the Gospel has always been challenging. And even Jesus’ immediate followers needed encouragement to persevere in prayer.

So we should not expect our own faith journey to be at all times easy, cheery or joyous. These reminders are probably especially important for us. We live in a highly individualized society. It’s all about me… my wants, my choices, my hopes, my rights. And, probably more than in any other time, we live with the expectation of instant everything. Not just instant gratification, instant everything. It’s about me. Now.

These lessons, taken as a whole remind us, that we should not expect the Christian life, the life of faith, to be free of situations calling for perseverance. It never has been.

So persevere, trusting in God’s abiding, unfailing presence and care. Persevere in faith.

The Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost - October 13

Healed, Cleansed and Whole
Luke 17:11-19

I should begin by saying I am not a Greek scholar. I took one year of Greek in seminary, but it didn’t really stick. I retained just enough, though, to be able to use some resource books on Greek. I’m going to talk a little bit about some of the words in today’s Gospel, which was originally written in Greek.

It’s the story of the ten lepers. Jesus is entering a town and on the outskirts of the town ten lepers cry out to him for compassion. He responds compassionately, telling them to go show themselves to the priests. As they obey, they are cured. One of the ten, a Samaritan, returns to Jesus giving thanks and praising God.

Three different Greek words describe what happened to the lepers. In our translation those words occur as “made clean,” “healed,” and the leper who returns to give thanks is “made well.”

As they obediently responded to Jesus’ instructions, all ten lepers were “healed.” The word is used in a medical sense. Certainly in Jesus’ day disease and healing and medicine were understood very differently than they are today. Nonetheless, this word indicates relief from the symptoms of a disease.

Because that disease was leprosy, to be healed also meant to be made clean. Interestingly, the Greek word translated “made clean” is the root of our words cathartic or catharsis, but in this context it refers specifically to ritual or cultic cleansing.

As you may know, in Jesus’ day to have leprosy meant you were labeled as “unclean” by the religious laws and authorities. Mistakenly, people at that time thought of leprosy as highly contagious. Lepers were forced to stay away from others and if anyone approached them, they were required to call out “unclean, unclean.” This meant, of course, that they were excluded from general society, excluded even from the lives of their families, and excluded from the meaning and comfort of all corporate worship. Excluded from family, societal and religious life.

To be made clean was to have a life lived with the company of others restored.

All ten lepers were healed and cleansed. One, seeing that he had been healed and cleansed, stopped, and returned to Jesus, doing two things. He offered himself, prostrating himself in thanksgiving and he gave praise to God. Praise and thanksgiving. Our words doxology and eucharist. Giving voice to praise and offering oneself in thanksgiving.

And the leper who spoke his praise and offered thanksgiving was made “well.” The Greek word translated “well” in this passage is a word that is sometimes translated “saved” or “made whole.” In the Gospels it is most frequently used to describe a result of Jesus’ healings and it clearly means more than a medical cure… it means wholeness of person. Being found or put right. Sometimes it refers to what will happen in the Kingdom of God. But most of the time, it refers to something that happens in the present tense to those who are healed by Jesus.

For me wholeness seems to be maybe the best translation.

As I was reading about this passage I came across a wonderful definition of wholeness. A little different from what I might have said before. In this definition wholeness is not so much a matter of restoration or repair or even healing. It is a state of being where everything unholy is pushed out. A state of total holiness. All else is shut out of our person except the holy context. We are at one with God and one another, in a sublime moment of grace. I can almost visualize it physically. Holiness within us expanding until we are wholly holy.

By God’s grace, this transformation to wholeness to holiness happens when we are actively engaged in singing praise to God and in offering ourselves to God in thanksgiving. These are the transformative acts that bring about wholeness. When we give ourselves to praise of God and thanksgiving for God’s grace and blessing and presence with us in Christ we become holy and whole.

And we have cause and opportunity to praise God and offer ourselves in thanksgiving. It is right to give God thanks and praise. Always and Everywhere. No matter what is going on in our lives or in the world around us. Sing praise. If you need words, whether you sing them or say them, check out the praise section of the Hymnal. And come to the Eucharist, offering ourselves, our souls and bodies, all that we are in this action of thanksgiving for Christ’s living presence with us.

The leper who gave voice to praise of God and offered himself in thanksgiving was made whole.

As we praise God and offer ourselves in thanksgiving, by God’s grace we, too, will be made whole.

The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost - October 6

You Can Do a Lot with a Little Faith
Luke 17:5-10

What would you do if you had more faith? If all of a sudden you were given a lot more faith, what would you do?

I imagine all of us have at least fleetingly considered the “if you won the lottery” question. (Do remember that the church has consistently opposed gambling as a means of church or government fund raising…) If all of a sudden I came into a heap of money, what would I do with it?

So what would you do with more faith if you had it? What would you do?

The disciples ask Jesus to increase their faith. It’s hard to know exactly what prompted their request. In this portion of Luke’s Gospel, Jesus has most recently been talking about forgiveness and the need to forgive the sins of a fellow disciple over and over again. Maybe the disciples just felt overwhelmed with the whole discipleship thing…

Regardless of the disciples’ motivation, most of us would probably join in their request. Increase our faith. Although I expect most of us would voice that request for more faith in the hope that it would bolster our belief. If I had more faith my belief or my trust in God would be more secure.

But faith is more than a body of belief; it is a verb. It is what we do. It is how we live our lives as disciples of Christ. Faith is what we do. At the very least asking the question: what would you do if you had more faith? reminds us that faith is about what we do.

 Jesus tells the disciples they really don’t need any more faith to do what disciples do.

He seems to say two related, but slightly different things. (1) You can do a lot with a little faith. And (2) the little things you do faithfully count for a lot.

It only takes faith the size of a mustard seed, the size of a pin head, to move mountains or mulberry trees. You can do a lot with a little faith. And by faithfully doing the little things of daily life, serving God and others obediently within the context of your daily life… by doing these little things, you are doing what disciples do, and that counts for a lot.

 As one commentator (David Lose) says, “Faith, in other words, is doing what needs to be done right in front of you and this, Jesus says, the disciples can already do. Folks who feel daunted by discipleship need to hear that sometimes faith can be pretty ordinary…. it really doesn’t take all that much faith to be, well, faithful.”

The little things of daily life, done faithfully, count for a lot.

• doing our work (The tasks or vocation of life. Doing them is good stewardship, and often the means of caring for others. That counts a lot.) 
• caring for those in need (Those near to us and more remote. That counts for a lot.) 
• protecting the vulnerable (Protecting those who are bullied or marginalized in any way. That’s the work of a disciple, and it counts for a lot.) 
• reaching out to the lonely 
• befriending the friendless (Doing those things counts for a lot.) 
• keeping the world going (Whatever that means in your life. Keeping God’s world going. That counts for a lot.) 
• contributing to the common good. 

 The little acts of daily living. Acts that any person can choose to do just by deciding to do them. But choosing to do them “faithfully” as a disciple makes a difference, I think. We “partner” ourselves with God in doing God’s work in the world. And that makes a difference at least for us. Then what we do is a part of God’s generosity, God’s love. And we have the resources and reserves of God to draw upon. And, for what it’s worth, when we do these little things faithfully, we’ll find that other aspects of faith—our belief and sense of relationship with God—will grow and increase.

 Like the disciples, we have the faith that we need to do what disciples do. With a little faith you can do a lot. And the little things of life, done faithfully, count for a lot when done as disciples of Christ.

The Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost - September 22

God Commends Jerks (and other deeper moral quandaries)
Luke 16:1-13 

Over the last few days I have read multiple commentaries and online sermon resources pertaining to today’s Gospel. Everyone of them agrees. This is the worst of all of Jesus’ parables. And probably the most difficult to preach on.

It is often called the parable of the dishonest steward. Although in the translation we heard, he is called a manager rather than a steward. Some people, trying to put a more positive spin on it, call it the parable of the shrewd or clever steward.

Writing about this parable in his Interpretation commentary on Luke Fred Craddock writes: “Many Christians have been offended by this parable… some find it a bit disturbing that Jesus would find anything commendable in a person who has acted dishonestly. Why that should prove offensive is not fully clear, for everyone is a mixed bag of the commendable and the less commendable.” He’s right, of course, all of us are a mixture of the commendable and the less commendable.

But I sympathize with the people who are offended by this parable, even if “offended” is a pretty strong word. I think I probably find it easier to believe that God will forgive a profound sinner, an adulterer or the proverbial axe murderer… I find it easier to swallow that God would forgive a profound sinner than that God would commend a dishonest, self-serving jerk.

Which got me thinking about jerks.

 One on-line comment directed me to a book on the Parables of Grace by Robert Farrar Capon. He was a pretty well-known Episcopal priest and author. His was a name I grew up with because my mother had his book, “The Supper of the Lamb.” It’s an interwoven series of theological musings and recipes. I still turn to it for my Cuban bread recipe. He died September 5. So I’ve recently been reading glowing tributes. But he was a jerk. At least the one time I met him.

The first parish I served in Houston was part of a group of parish who brought in relatively high profile speakers each year for their Lenten programs. The speakers would give presentations at each parish in turn. As a junior member of the clergy staff, it often fell to me to provide taxi service, driving the speaker from one parish to another. The minute Capon got in my car, without asking, he lit up. He started smoking! And then his presentation to our family-oriented Lenten supper was full of gratuitous profanity—the only purpose apparently to make him appear hip. He was a self-centered jerk. But I trust he feasts now in the presence of God at the heavenly banquet.

God most likely does commend jerks. Which is a good thing for all of us. God commends jerks. Not because even most jerks also have some good or commendable qualities. And I don’t think God only commends jerks when they do commendable things, even though that seems to be the implication of today’s parable. God commends jerks because God loves them.

My personal problem with this parable is a little different. I can get past God commending a dishonest jerk. I get stuck somewhere else.

Many commentators writing about this parable note what it was the steward actually did: He forgave others’ debts. (Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.) And he built relationships. These are what we call kingdom work. He is doing the work of God’s kingdom. But his means and his motives stunk. His means were dishonest and his motives self-serving.

So is Jesus saying: The end justifies the means??? Is Jesus saying: As long as you’re doing kingdom work it doesn’t matter how or why you are doing it? That’s not the moral world I want to live in. That’s not the moral landscape I personally accept… one where the end, even if the end is kingdom work, always justifies the means.

Parables are meant to stir us up, to unsettle us and help us see things in a new way. They are meant to provoke us to explore our perceptions. So this is where I end up with this parable this year:

1) God probably does commend jerks.

 2) I cannot automatically assume that my own “moral landscape” is the same as God’s. What I think of as good ethical behavior may not be the same as God’s perspective. I can’t presume to project my morals or ethics onto God, no matter how “good” I think they may be. It is hard for me to accept, as this parable seems to teach, that the ends justify the means. But I have to accept my personal confusion and discomfort that this parable provokes in me. And that confusion and discomfort challenges me to consider that my moral landscape and God’s may not be the same.

The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost - June 30

For Freedom, Christ Has Set Us Free

Galatians 5:1, 13-25 
Luke 9:51-62 

Now that we are in the long summer season of green ordinary time, the propers for each Sunday are actually keyed to the regular calendar, rather than the church calendar. So regardless of which Sunday after Pentecost it may be, the Scripture readings and collect we are using today are those appointed for the Sunday closest to June 29. Which is to say that every third year, when we are in lectionary year C, we get Paul’s proclamation about freedom on the Sunday before July fourth. It is interesting to explore Paul’s words within the context of this time when we celebrate our freedom as citizens of this nation.

 This nation’s freedom was born, of course, through the American Revolution. At that time the people living in this land were eager to gain freedom from British rule. Freedom from the oppression of their foreign overlord. Freedom from. Freedom in this sense is an escape from something binding or oppressive. But others have pointed out that true freedom is more than just freedom from. Its purpose is more than just escape. Its purpose is to create opportunity for a new future. Freedom for. Freedom for growth. Freedom for self-determination. The early leaders of our country understood this two-stage quality of freedom. The Declaration of Independence talks a lot about freedom from. Freedom from British domination and rule. But think about, would you really want to live in a country where the Declaration of Independence was the only statement of identity and purpose? Where all we are as a people is “not British?” That is an adolescent or immature sort of freedom. One which seeks to be free of all control, but lacks any sort of purpose.

But the Constitution takes the next step, into a more mature freedom. Freedom for. “We the people of the United States of American, in order to form a more perfect union…”

Freedom. Not just freedom from bondage, although that is certainly a good thing and an essential first step. But also freedom for. Freedom for a future with the opportunity to become something more. For freedom, Christ has set us free. Paul makes it clear that our freedom as Christians is not just an adolescent freedom from the requirements of the law so that we may pursue all sorts of self-indulgence. It is a freedom for the purpose of building up the Body of Christ.

One way to look at today’s Gospel passage is within the context of freedom. This is one of those so-called “difficult sayings” of Jesus. Jesus’ words appear harsh. To people who want to follow him he says, “No, you cannot say goodbye to your family; no, you cannot bury your father no, you cannot first bring in the crops.” I am on my way, Jesus says, follow me. Come or stay. You can’t do both. It would not hurt us to consider these words, harsh as they are, at face value in our own lives. They are a call to place our commitment to follow Christ as the highest priority in our lives. Something none of us does.

Yet we can also consider Jesus’ words in another light. And from this perspective they are not just insensitive, autocratic commands, they are teachings… teachings about freedom. Jesus is teaching his followers that they are free. Free to follow him. Free to become Christians. Free from the bondage of family and social expectations. In Jesus’ day the family was the core unit of the social structure. Personal and social identity and authority and opportunity (or lack of opportunity) were inextricably bound up with family. The rules and expectations were clear, strict, and very limiting.

In one sense Jesus says to his followers, “If you wish to be my followers you must break these rules.” That’s the harsh reading of his words. But in another sense, Jesus says, “As my followers, you are free to break these rules.” Liberating words. And, Jesus says, you will not loose your identity or worth or status, because your true worth and identity are not granted by society, they are given as a gift by God. You are free to become more than a child of your culture, you are free to become a child of God. You are free to become more than so-and-so’s third son. You are free to become a Christian.

That was a mind-blowing message at the time. That they were free to leave behind the limited and limiting expectations others had of them. Free to become what God created them to be.

It’s a lesson Jesus teaches, at least implicitly, throughout this Gospel passage. When Jesus passes through Samaria, he is shunned… for whatever reason. James and John, who see themselves as Jesus’ right hand men, seek retribution. “Jesus, let us rain down fire upon those Samaritans!” Retribution was the cultural expectation, the law of the land. But Jesus points out that they are free—free from that social obligation. Just think you much our world today would be improved if people knew they were free from the culturally imposed expectation of retribution or retaliation. I think of the conflicts in the Middle East and northern Ireland to the gang warfare among youth on the streets of Chicago to the demand for retaliation in professional sports… baseball, football, hockey. If only people knew they were free from the need to retaliate. As Christians, we are free. As citizens of the kingdom of heaven we are governed by laws of mercy, love and forgiveness. Free to act, not as society expects us to, but as God desires us to. Free to forgive rather than retaliate.

Freedom from the bondage of social rules and expectations. Freedom also perhaps from our self-imposed bondage to material needs. Luke tells us that Jesus is on the road “to Jerusalem.” To walk that path meant giving up “a place to lay his head.” Giving up the basic shelter that even the foxes and birds would have. But was it for Jesus a giving up, or a freedom from, the need for creature comforts? Putting aside, perhaps, the basic need for shelter, think about how we are enslaved by our material needs. I have read that those nuns and monks who live the simplest, most ascetic of lives may begin that way of life with a great sense of struggle and deprivation. But for many of them, at least, it becomes a life of immense freedom, freedom from dependence upon creature comforts. It becomes a life grounded in the awareness that all of our true, deepest needs are richly fulfilled by God. What freedom!

For freedom Christ has set us free. Us. We, too, have been set free. Free from what binds us. Free for a life as Christians, beloved children of God.

 For example: We are free to put aside society’s expectation that our schedules be filled with “meaningful” activities. We are free from the social assumption that our fulfillment as human beings is measured by the fullness of our calendars. Many of the things we do bring enrichment and pleasure, but we need not be enslaved by our calendars because our human fulfillment does not come through out participation in any of these activities, it comes from our membership in the Body of Christ.

We are free to put aside the drive for material stuff as our main goal in life. Not everyone is called to live monastic lives of ascetic poverty, but we are free to put aside material ambition because our treasure lies in the Kingdom of God.

We are free to work for justice and dignity among all people even when that work may be culturally unpopular. We are free to work for the oppressed and marginalized even when that work is derided by our peers. We are free because our status, our citizenship is secure in God’s kingdom. No one can tarnish or diminish our status before God. We are free to live as Christians in the world.

For freedom, Christ as set us free.

The bondage of culture or the freedom to live as Christians. We are free to choose.

The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost - June 23

One in Christ
Galatians 3:23-29

The epistle readings for the last few weeks have come from Paul’s letter to the Galatians. A significant focus in Galatians, certainly in a big chunk of chapter 3, is all about identity. Who are the people of God? And what makes someone God’s own? What constitutes identity as God’s people?

 Inevitably for Paul with his history and in his day this meant an exploration of the law, torah.

One commentator on this passage writes: “The torah has been Israel’s pride and joy; the psalmists of old sang its glories. Particularly since the reestablishment of religious life by Ezra after the exile, the torah has been Judaism’s distinguishing symbol. It was read in synagogues not only in Palestine but throughout the dispersion. Though the temple was sacked and the land snatched away, Jewish existence could continue because the torah was present. It made Israel to be Israel” (Charles B. Cousar, Interpretation).

The first few verses of the portion of Galatians we heard today are part of Paul’s discussion of torah. Paul wonders: In light of Christ’s coming, what was the purpose of the law in God’s overall plan for human kind? To discuss that in depth is a sermon for another day, but in brief, at least in these verses, Paul sees the law as a caretaker. “The law was our disciplinarian until Christ came.” The word translated disciplinarian could also be translated custodian or nanny/tutor. Torah was like someone who has benevolent custody of a child and guides and teaches, looking forward to some later fulfillment or maturity.

What is the ongoing role of torah for Christians? That is definitely a sermon for another day. (In today’s passage Paul seems to suggest that we no longer need any disciplinarian or custodian, but elsewhere in Paul and Jesus’ words in the Gospels still place high value on the law.)

But Paul’s discussion of the law is all background for his focus on identity. If torah was the symbol of what made Israel Israel… If torah is what made Israel the people of God…

Then what does it mean to be a person of God now that Christ has come?

Paul says that the identifying characteristic is now being “in Christ.” And it is God’s gift of faith that enables us to be “in Christ.” Faith in this context is not so much a conviction or affirmation of belief (that Jesus is the Son of God or your personal Lord and Savior). It brings the ability to recognize that God is offering you the opportunity to be his own. Think of Paul’s own conversation. It was the mind-blowing recognition that Jesus was talking to him, cared about him. It’s coming to awareness that through Christ, as Paul says in Romans, we are offered the identity of God’s children, adopted as sons and daughters of God. Being “in Christ” is nothing more and nothing less than knowing we are God’s own. To use another wonderful phrase of Paul’s: that we are “clothed in Christ.”

To offer a somewhat ludicrous example. I’m aware that right now there are people who are sleeping in Blackhawks jerseys—their identity as Blackhawk fans is that important. Or I guess you call them “sweaters” if you’re into hockey. But a lot of folks are wearing that identity a lot of the time. To be clothed in Christ is to wear a jersey every minute of the day and night that says, “I am God’s beloved child.”

Putting on that jersey identifies us as God’s own. Then, baptism is the symbol, the seal.

In the last few verses of today’s reading Paul gets to the excited culmination of his discussion.

We’re going to do a little exercise. We all identify ourselves in many ways. As members of a particular family, or by the job we do, or by some passion or interest of ours. So here are some examples of how those of us here might identify ourselves.

Raise your hands. How many here are male? Female? We could count and get the exact percentages of what portion is male and what portion is female.

How many live in Flossmoor? So all the rest of you live somewhere else…. How many live in Homewood? And how many in other communities with other names?

How many of you grew up with a brother? OK, the rest of you just cannot imagine what that experience is like.  Your lives were different.

How many were born in Illinois? In Maine, where I used to live, they have an interesting phrase. You are either from Maine or you are “from away.” There’s Maine. And there’s away. And you’re one or the other. And two feet into New Hampshire is “away.”

In another setting if we had more time and opportunity for conversation, I might ask about other ways of identifying ourselves.

Who voted Democratic in the last presidential election?
What is your racial identity?
Your sexual orientation?

Within this parish community we have individuals with differing identities on all of these issues.

So one more question. Raise your hands. How many of you are baptized in Christ?

Look around you. That is Paul’s point. That is Paul’s point.

There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

All of these different identities were important in Paul’s day. Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male or female. They had huge implications within the society of his day. As, to a large degree, they do today. As the identities I named have significant implications in today’s society.

There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

All of you are one in Christ Jesus!

Among those many ways each of us identifies herself or himself, although we may cherish our Christian identities, our identities as God’s beloved, I think we often put that identity as Gods own pretty low on the list of ways we identify ourselves. For Paul it was at the very top. Being “in Christ” was the pinnacle, the overarching, all consuming identity that dominated all others. And being “in Christ” is an identity that unites, rather than separates. For Paul, being “in Christ” was his most important identity.

What if it were for us? What if we wore our “Beloved Child of God jersey” on top of all our others? All of the time. Just think of the implications that would have.

The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost - June 16

God's Extravagance
Luke 7:36 – 8:3

How do you feel about extravagance? What is your gut reaction to extravagance? (This is another one of those Episcopal sermons.) So how do you feel about real extravagance? Either being extravagant yourself or receiving extravagance from others?

Maybe you are someone who relishes over-the-top experiences… Who likes living to the fullest in every moment. Extravagance means freedom, lack of regulation. Or maybe for you extravagance is purely negative, always irresponsible. Maybe you have mixed, complicated feelings when you think about being involved with extravagance.

For me the overriding feeling is discomfort. Discomfort at having extravagance bestowed upon me. And discomfort at the idea of being extravagant.

I read several commentaries on today’s Gospel and in both the woman who interacts with Jesus in this story was described as showing lavish or extravagant hospitality.

She bathes Jesus’ feet. She kisses him. She anoints him. These are all potentially reasonable acts of hospitality, of kindness shown to a guest. But she performs them extravagantly. Instead of having a servant wash his feet with water and a basin, she bathes his feet with her tears. She kisses his feet. And anoints him with costly perfume.

I looked up extravagant. It means: Lacking restraint. Exceeding what is reasonable.

That certainly fits the woman’s actions.

So how do you feel about extravagance?

Jesus’ comments draw a contrast between the unnamed woman and the Pharisee Simon. And Jesus clearly identifies the woman and her extravagance as the positive figure.

We don’t know much about the Pharisee except his name. He was probably a leader in the town. A man of some means. But certainly not extravagant in his hospitality.

And Jesus implies that Simon does not know forgiveness, does not know himself to be forgiven.

And here’s the heart of the message: Forgiveness is always extravagant. Forgiving someone who has wronged or hurt you is always extravagant. It is not reasonable.

Although we may try and persuade ourselves that forgiveness is a reasonable process. Maybe Simon did. We can imagine that he didn’t consider himself a sinner in need of extravagant forgiveness. He saw himself as a good person who occasionally slipped up on a few details following the law. And when he did he chose to perform the appropriate rituals of cleansing or restoration. And then he could be sure that he had put things right and his status as a good person was unthreatened.

But God’s forgiveness… God’s act of forgiving us… God’s yearning for reconciliation with us even though we sinners repeatedly and profoundly hurt God and shred our relationship with God. God’s eagerness to just put away our sins. That’s extravagant. Lacking restraint. Exceeding what is reasonable. What God does in forgiving us is extravagant.

Are you comfortable with God’s extravagance? The starting point is to acknowledge that we need extravagant forgiveness. That we are sinners through and through and only God’s extravagant forgiveness can reconcile us to God.

A lot of times it’s not easy. Simon didn’t get it.

We’d like this process of reconciliation to be more reasonable. Like Simon perhaps we think of ourselves as basically good people who make the odd mistake from time to time. And when we do, we take responsibility and we initiate a reasonable process of reconciliation… We make sure to come to church at least for a few weeks, say the general confession with extra sincerity, say a few “Hail Mary’s” if we were raised that way. And that’s it. Surely we don’t have to enter this world where extravagant forgiveness is needed or offered.

Except we are in that world. All of us need God’s extravagant forgiveness. And to be reconciled to God means to let ourselves be swept away by his extravagance. And we, in turn, respond with extravagant praise. Praising God not just circumspectly now and then, but without restraint. And we give of ourselves extravagantly. Not just reasonably what we can when we can, but extravagant self-offering.

This Gospel story is about extravagance. And it prods us to work at getting comfortable with extravagance. To participate in a world of extravagance. To welcome God’s extravagant forgiveness. To offer God extravagant gifts and praise.

The woman in this story knew herself to be a sinner. She also knew herself to be extravagantly forgiven. And she responded with extravagant love, praise and self-giving. We should be more like her.

The Second Sunday after Pentecost (proper 4) - June 2

Infallible Providence
Collect, Proper 4

As I was spending time with today’s propers this week—the collect and lessons appointed for this Sunday—I never really got past the collect. It’s old, dating back from medieval Latin service books.

As we pray it in English, one phrase in particular struck me. “O God… put away from us, we entreat you, all hurtful things.”

Put away from us all hurtful things. And then it continues—give us those things that are profitable for us. Put away from us all hurtful things. When the collect was written, this undoubtedly referred to external things that could hurt us. We pray to be protected from hurt. But as I hear it I wonder if it couldn’t have a broader meaning as well.

Put away from us all things that are hurtful. Put away from us all things that have the power to hurt. Put away from us, protect us, from all those things outside ourselves that might hurt us. Accident or illness. Or the meanness and unkindness of other people who have the power to hurt us.

But also put away from us the things that we bear, that we cling to, that have the power to hurt others. Put away from us all of the weapons we carry that give us the power to hurt others. Scorn, indifference, words that degrade or wound.

And also put away from us the things we use to hurt ourselves. We have the power to hurt ourselves. As we nurture anger until it festers, or put ourselves down, or carelessly neglect the lives and bodies God has given us.

Put away from us all things that are full of hurt. All things that have the power to hurt.

It seems to me that’s almost the only prayer we need on a daily basis.

But it continues: Give us those things that are profitable for us. I don’t know what the original Latin is, but the word “profit” is so wrapped up with financial assets in our minds it may be hard to get passed it. But this is from God’s perspective. Looking at ourselves with God’s eyes, what sorts of things are profitable for us? What things enable us to live more fully into the people God hopes for us to be?

Blessings profit us. Anything that brings holiness into our lives. Gifts, recognized as God’s gifts, are profitable for us. And being a blessing to others profits us because it knits us more closely into God’s work and presence in our lives.

Faith is profitable for us. As we pray that God will give us profitable things, let us pray for a deepening and strengthening faith.

The capacity to love and show compassion profit us. Hope and perseverance are profitable.

And reconciliation is profitable. Whenever we experience or work for reconciliation, for the healing of estrangement, we profit greatly. Reconciliation with one another always brings with it reconciliation with God.

So in this collect we pray for discernment, for God’s help in identifying those things in our lives that have the power to hurt. And we pray for God’s help to put away those hurtful things. And we pray for God’s help in identifying those things that profit us as children of God and for God’s help that we may welcome and cherish these profitable gifts.

And we are able to pray for, to hope for, this discernment and help from God because we are surrounded by God’s providence.

And that’s what this collect is really about. It’s really about God’s providence. Providence is not a word we use so much these days in general conversation and I have to remind myself what it actually means. I tend to think of it as meaning God’s plan or purpose. But that’s not it. It means God’s care and protection. God’s loving care and protection.

God’s providence is right there in the first phrase of the collect. Collects typically start with an address to God, followed by some descriptive phrase highlighting a particular quality of God. This collect highlights God’s never-failing providence. Our God is a God of never-failing love and protection for us.

I gather that first phrase of the collect has undergone some variation in different English translations. In the first English Book of Common Prayer, Cranmer translated it as God’s providence that “cannot be deceived.” Nothing in the world can deceive or distort or diminish God’s providence. A more literal translation would be God’s providence that is “infallible.” Cannot fail. God’s loving care and protection of us cannot be diverted, or diminished or fail in any way.

Ultimately, nothing can deny or destroy the loving care of God for us. This collect teaches us to trust in that never-failing providence—even when circumstances around us may seem to our eyes hurtful or uncertain.

This collect teaches us that God’s providence is never-failing. And in praying this collect our trust in the presence of God’s never-failing providence is increased. Praying helps believing. Praying over and over again builds trust. Especially as we remember the countless Christians who have prayed this prayer—in various languages—for centuries and centuries. Listen to their voices, to their prayers. Their witness to God’s never-failing care and protection.

 O God, your never-failing providence sets in order all things…

Trinity Sunday - May 26

Separate, But Inseparable

Today is Trinity Sunday. Another of the principal feast days in the church calendar. The only one dedicated, not to an event in Christ’s life or the saints of the church, but to a doctrine. It must be a pretty important doctrine… the doctrine of the Trinity.

Most preachers face this day with apprehension, burdened by the feeling that it is our responsibility to make the doctrine of the Trinity comprehensible to the people in the pews. In my experience, however, the people in the pews either really don’t care at all whether or not they understand the doctrine of the Trinity, or they cling steadfastly, and will not be budged, from their own pre-existing understanding of the Trinity. An understanding which is inevitably heretical. If you think you really understand the Trinity, it’s pretty sure to be heresy.

So whether it’s H2O as water, steam and ice, or St. Patrick’s famous shamrock, or a man who is husband, father and son… those are all heresies.

Fortunately, an orthodox understanding of the doctrine of the Trinity is not an essential element for personal salvation. On the other hand, clinging to a heretical understanding might be an impediment to the life of faith, a prideful barrier to an ever-growing experience of God’s presence.

At the very least, the doctrine of the Trinity reminds us of the mystery of God’s being and of our ultimate inability to comprehend or describe that mystery. If you ever think you’ve got God figured out, remember the Trinity with humility. We can never fully comprehend or describe the mystery of God’s being.

Basically, the doctrine of the Trinity affirms that God is Three. And One. At the same time. Three. And One. It isn’t “like” anything else in our world or our experience. All of the metaphors fall short.

They either describe God as one who happens to function in three different ways or as three different gods who happen to communicate really well with one another and share a common mission.

But as I’ve thought about the Trinity this year, I’ve been using some new language that, at least for me, takes the mystery of the Trinity and applies it to something that is important in our own relationship with God.

The Trinity is made up of separate things or persons who are inseparable. There’s nothing “like” it anywhere else in our world. Totally separate, independent persons that are inseparable.

The persons of the Trinity are distinct, but you never get one without the other two. Separate, but inseparable.

This can be a model for our relationship with God. We are separate from God. We are distinct individuals, each of us entire of himself or herself. Our bodies, our personalities, our wills, are ours. Totally ours. Nothing hampers or limits our individuality or our independence from God.

And yet, by God’s wondrous grace, we share in God’s being. We are inseparable from God.

We are as inseparable from God as the persons of the Trinity are inseparable one from another.

Distinct and separate, but inseparable.

And through our mutual participation in God’s life, we are also inseparable from one another. Distinct and separate as we may be as individuals, we are inseparable as the Body of Christ. And furthermore, we are inseparable, the living from the dead. A reassurance on this Memorial Day weekend when many pause to think of those we love but see no longer. There’s a prayer that we often say at funerals. One phrase says, “Draw us closer to you that we may know ourselves nearer to our beloved who are with you."

In our relationship with God, we are separate, gloriously unique and whole as individuals, but inseparable from God. Separate, but inseparable.

My prayer this Trinity Sunday is that God will increase my awareness and my trust in the inseparability of my life from the life of God. Separate, but inseparable.

Pentecost - May 23

An Ebullient Pentecost
Acts 2:1-21

Today is Pentecost, one of the great holy days in the church calendar.

My sermon for Pentecost is really just a one word sermon. Ebullient. Pentecost is all about ebullience.

I’m reminded of someone years ago at my first parish who commented that to follow an Episcopal sermon you didn’t need a Bible, you needed a dictionary. But ebullient is one of the words that sounds like what it means. It means overflowing with energy and joy. Boiling over.

We just heard the Pentecost story in the reading from Acts. The disciples were huddled together after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. They were lacking in almost everything, it seems. Lacking direction. Lacking courage. Lacking a future. Frightened, unsure of themselves or what to do next.

And then the Holy Spirit came. There was a rushing of a great wind—inside. Tongues, as a fire rested upon each of the disciples.

The Holy Spirit does ebullient.

And the disciples were transformed from people who were lacking to people who were overflowing. They became ebullient, overflowing with joy, boiling over with the energy of the Spirit.

The disciples became apostles, inspired to proclaim the Good News of God in Christ to the people of all nations.

On Pentecost, the Light of Christ is ebullient. After today the Paschal candle will no longer stand in that one spot there near the altar. Its light will split, bubble over into millions upon millions of tongues, as of fire, lighting on us all, inspiring us with energy and joy to carry out our mission in the world.

We are doing three baptisms today. What could be more ebullient? And I pray that Oliver, Owen, and Teddy’s new lives in Christ will always be ebullient.

Pentecost reminds us that the Holy Spirit is irrepressible, uncontainable, unquenchable, bubbling over.

And celebrating Pentecost ebulliently reminds us of the unquenchable, irrepressible, limitless power of God, through the Spirit, to enliven and inspire our lives with joy.

The Seventh Sunday of Easter - May 12

Here in Heaven
John17:20-26

The collect appointed for this day relates to the fact that, in times past, this Sunday would have been identified as being in Ascensiontide. It would have even been called the Sunday after Ascension Day. This past Thursday was Ascension Day. It always falls 40 days into the great 50 days of Easter. It commemorates the event recounted in Scripture when Jesus, after his resurrection and appearances to the disciples, left their sight and “ascended into heaven.”

The collect says that Jesus has been exalted with great triumph to God’s kingdom in heaven. And we pray that God will exalt us to that same place where Jesus has gone before.

The collect (and much of the hymnody appropriate for Ascensiontide) paints a picture of Jesus going away to heaven. Heaven is someplace else, away from here. And in the collect we pray that perhaps someday, somehow, by God’s grace we can join Jesus there.

 In the adult Sunday School class we’ve been studying N. T. Wright’s book, Surprised by Hope. We’re using a DVD with Bishop Wright talking about the points in his book. And I can’t help but think about the ascension in light of Bishop Wright’s teaching. He talks a lot about heaven. And he talks a lot about heaven not being some other place, away from earth. Heaven and earth, he says, are the two spheres of God’s activity and they are intertwined, not separate. I can see the fingers of his two hands intertwined as he talks about it. Heaven is here, intertwined with earth. A different way of being. A different way of seeing. But not a different place.

In a sense the collect appointed for Ascension Day itself makes this same point. It says Jesus ascended far above, or beyond, all heavens so that he might fill all things. He has not so much gone away, as become more fully present. By his ascension, Jesus brings the glory of heaven to all things.

To dwell in heaven is to experience God’s glory here, to be governed by God’s love here. And the closer we are to Jesus in our lives, the more fully we dwell in heaven. Here. That’s our Ascension prayer. Not that we may someday be launched off to heaven and rejoin Jesus there. But that we might share in Jesus’ presence and glory here. The presence and glory of Jesus that now fills all things.

That’s our prayer in today’s collect. And that’s Jesus’ prayer for us as we heard today in John’s Gospel. The reading from John appointed from today is from a section of John often called Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer. These are Jesus’ words after the Last Supper… his prayer on behalf of his disciples and the world before his crucifixion.

One commentator noted that Jesus’ prayer is meant to be overheard. He is teaching as well as praying. These words express his and God’s desires, but he also wants the disciples to know what he desires for them. And it is not just the disciples who are meant to overhear. We are, too. And he is praying for us. He prays for those gathered around him and all those who will come to know him through their words. That’s us.

He prays that we may be given everything that God, the father gave him.

He prays that we may be one with God just as fully as he, Jesus, was one with God during his earthly life. This prayer for oneness is not a prayer for Christian unity (although that’s a good thing), it is a prayer that we may be citizens of heaven here on earth. Just as Jesus was. It is a prayer that we may be with Jesus now, here, and experience his glory.

Jesus is here. Heaven is here. Jesus prays that we may be with him in heaven. Here.