The Third Sunday after Pentecost - June 29

A Question of Scale
Matthew 10:40-42 
(Proper 8)

For me, today’s Gospel reading raises a question of scale.

I don’t know for sure if you know what I mean by scale. It’s not the sort of scale you weigh yourself on, or weigh vegetables on.

I’m thinking of scale as it means relative size or significance. The size or significance of one thing is measured relative to something else. In my previous life as a field geologist, scale was very important. Geologists who work in the field use photos a lot to illustrate important observations. But if I take a photo of a fossil surrounded by a bunch of rock, you have no way of knowing if the fossil is ½ inch high or 2 feet high. Which is why field geologists always carry a penny, or a pen, or a lens cap to place in the photo for scale. So you can see the size of the fossil relative to the size of something else.

The idea of scale comes up in other contexts as well. We say: Jimmy is short, for a fourth grader. We’re not taking about his actual height, but his height relative to other kids in his class. And recently, I’ve heard comments like: The current flooding on the Mississippi in the Twin Cities area is on an unprecedented scale. Relative to other floods, this is bad.

Scale always involves a comparison. It always involves evaluating the size or significance of something relative to, or compared to, something else.

I’m thinking about this in terms of being a disciple, a follower of Jesus. Disciples do what Jesus taught us to do. And it seems to me, there is a huge difference in scale between last week’s reading and today’s, in terms of what disciples do.

In today’s reading from Matthew, Jesus says, “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple” will be rewarded. Jesus praises disciples who give a cup of water to “these little ones.” He probably meant all those who were considered of no account at the time. That would have included children, and many more. Jesus praises an act of discipleship that involves giving just a cup of water to someone who is considered of no account.

Last Sunday… and today’s reading follows directly after last week’s… so this us just a few verses earlier, Jesus says: “whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me”

Giving somebody unimportant a glass of water versus turning away from relationships with your closest family. That seems like such a huge difference in scale with respect to what a disciple is asked to do.

So what are the implications of this for us? Sharing a glass of water. It seems so easy. Especially on the scale of acts of discipleship. It is so easy it may seem insignificant. Does it really matter? Why bother? Such a small act won’t really make any difference in the big picture. And we might also think, if that’s all I do, I must not be much of a disciple. All of these thoughts come out of the world of scale. Where measurement and comparison rule. This is such a small act of discipleship compared to others. And because it is so small, it can’t be of much value.

I can give you several reasons to persevere in small acts of discipleship.

One of Loren Eiseley’s most well-known essays is called “The Starthrower.” It describes a young man who went out to the beach at dawn after a night of severe storms. In the storm surge, many starfish had been stranded on the beach. If they weren’t returned to the sea, they would die. The starthrower was casting them, one by one, back into the sea. In the essay, the observer asks, “What does it matter, there are so many?” And the starthrower replies, “It matters to those I save.” Small acts of discipleship matter to those who are the recipients.

Another point. Crowd sourcing. A new term, but an old idea. The term comes from the internet age. But the practice is much older. The combined action of a number of small acts can create a large result. A lot of people, a crowd, doing small acts can add up to a large result. Christians are a big crowd. When each of us does our little bit, combined, they can produce a large impact.

And then there’s the “butterfly effect.” According to Wikipedia, the butterfly effect is… “in chaos theory, the sensitive dependency on initial conditions in which a small change at one place in a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state. The name of the effect… is derived from the theoretical example of a hurricane's formation being contingent on whether or not a distant butterfly had flapped its wings several weeks earlier.” Human beings are nonlinear systems. I’m sure you can imagine a scenario in which a small act of kindness, a small act of discipleship, a kind word, a small gift, might create a chain of events that leads to a big result.

Those are all good things to bear in mind. And if they motivate you to do small acts of discipleship, I hope you’ll hang on to them. But they are part of the world of scale. Where the value of something is measured by its relative size compared to something else.

My main point today is different. My main message today is this: I don’t think scale exists in God’s kingdom or in the life of discipleship. There is no scale in the life of discipleship. Things aren’t measured by relative size. It isn’t about comparing one act of discipleship versus another. There is no scale among acts of discipleship. ALL acts of discipleship are God-sized.

There isn’t a “big” God versus a “small” God. God is the immeasurable size of God’s wonder and love. There isn’t a “real” God’s kingdom in contrast to a “partial” kingdom. There is only the fullness of God’s kingdom. And every act of discipleship that acts to bring God into the world is God-sized. And every effort to make real the kingdom of God is full of the fullness of God’s kingdom.

I think it’s almost impossible for us to imagine that world, that world without scale. But try.

There is no scale among acts of discipleship. Acts of discipleship are not measured by the size of the results. The value of very act of discipleship is in the action itself. And every one is immeasurably important. There are no big scale acts of discipleship versus small scale acts of discipleship. All acts of discipleship are God sized.

This is not the world we live our daily lives in—a world without scale. No, but I really believe it’s God’s world. And in God’s world, more is not more. Every single thing… every individual creature… every one is all.

I am reminded of an article I read years and years ago in the Christian Century about a father taking his daughter for a hike. As I remember it, the question came up whether or not small, individual acts of environmental stewardship were worth it. Does picking up that one candy wrapper make a difference? What’s the point of preserving one example of a rare plant? Will it matter in the big picture? The response is that these are the wrong questions, the wrong perspective. We do these things because of who we are, because cherishing God’s creation is what God’s people do.

The article referenced the story from Scripture of the widow’s mite. The widow who gave her two pennies to the temple. Was that gift less valuable than the larger gifts of others? No. Because it is the giving that matters, not some measure of the result.

So do not try to measure the result of any act of discipleship. Every act of discipleship is God sized. The widow who gave her two mites and the martyrs who gave their lives are the same scale. The value of an act of discipleship is not determined by the size of the result. It’s not a business or a sports endeavor. The value is in doing God’s work. And that is always immeasurably God-sized.

It occurs to me that if I were taking pictures of acts of discipleship, like I used to take pictures of rocks, Jesus would be the scale in each picture of discipleship.

The implications of this scale-less world of discipleship will be different for different people. But those implications are mind blowing.

The key for all of us is to focus on living as disciples, followers of Jesus, and doing acts of discipleship, whatever they may be, whenever they present themselves. God-sized acts of discipleship.

The Second Sunday after Pentecost - June 22

Reading the Bible
(Proper 7)
Genesis 21:8-21
Romans 6:1b-11
Matthew 10:24-39

This morning we embark into that long season of liturgical green. The Sundays after Pentecost will continue all the way up until the beginning of the next church year with Advent late in the fall. One of the names we give to these green seasons is ordinary time. We are not focused on a particular holy day or a season with its individual character. This is ordinary time. A reminder that God is with us even in the ordinary times of our lives. Ordinary time also gives us the opportunity to systematically work our way through large portions of Scripture.

And what Scripture readings we are offered today for this beginning of our journey in ordinary time!

There are some real gems in these readings. The Old Testament story is about Ishmael. You may remember that Abraham and Sarah found themselves childless and they despaired of ever having a child. So, as was the custom of the time, Abraham fathered a child with Sarah’s Egyptian slave, Hagar. That boy was Ishmael. Later, against all odds, in their old age, Sarah bore Abraham a son, Isaac. Today’s story is about Ishmael, although he is named only indirectly. He is just dismissively called “the boy.” Except that, in the Hebrew, he is named. One of the sentences begins “God heard.” In Hebrew that is “Ishmael.” That’s a gem in Scripture. This cast out boy has a name that means God hears. And his mother, a slave in the household has an intimate conversation with God, or an angel of God (in Genesis it’s not always easy to tell the apart). Marginalized and of no account, but she speaks to God.

Then in the epistle there is Paul’s passionate theology of baptism… passionate and faithful, but a bit obscure to interpret in terms of our daily lives.

And there is some very rich stuff in the Gospel. Again and again Jesus says do not fear. Do not be afraid, Jesus reassures us. The hairs on your head are counted. God knows you that well. And values you. You are of great value to God…. at least more value than bunch of sparrows.

From amongst these readings, I could pluck any one of these gems and preach on that. And I’ve often taken that approach when presented with readings that contain both gems and difficult parts. Pluck out the gems and ignore the difficult parts. We all do that with Bible. From the strongest literalist to the most liberal interpreter… we all pick out our favorite parts and ignore others. But today’s difficult parts are just too big to ignore. There are many large elephants in the middle of today’s room of Scriptural passages. There are multiple really difficult parts in both the Old Testament reading and the Gospel. Some of these can be softened a bit by scholarly interpretation. Some not so much.

The story we heard from Genesis is sometimes called the sacrifice of Ishmael. If you look at it closely it has striking parallels to the story we call the sacrifice of Isaac. Which (hip hip hooray!) we’ll hear next week.

Like that story it includes the uncomfortable piece of God setting a test for Abraham’s trust. God says to Abraham… trust me… send your eldest son out into the wilderness with a crust of bread and one jug of water… the price of your trust is your son. Today’s story also includes what some call the “scandal” of election. Isaac was designated to be the father of the covenant, the progenitor of God’s elected, God’s chosen people. Ishmael, on the other hand is written out of the story of God’s people. His status could at best be described as separate, but not equal. Yes, God listens to and cares for Ishmael and Hagar as outcasts. But it is God who made them outcasts! And if that weren’t enough, what bothers me most in this story is that God provides a well. For Ishmael and Hagar that well literally saves their lives. But how can I proclaim that as good news when today children of Abraham are dying in the dessert all the time for lack of water. Faithful children of Abraham… refugees, many of them literally children, forced to flee poverty or violence. Dying every day in the desserts of Sudan, Syria and Arizona.

Those are the elephants in the Old Testament reading! Moving on to the Gospel.

Jesus said, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” Jesus said.

Jesus said, "For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother”

Jesus said, “Whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.”

 I think I have preached before on the context of Jesus words in Matthew’s Gospel. Understanding that context provides at least one way to interpret Jesus’ harsh words. Many of those to whom Matthew wrote were already facing the situations Jesus’ describes. Because of their choice to follow Jesus they faced conflict in their communities and within their families. So perhaps Jesus’ words, as Matthew presents them, describe a present reality rather than predicting a future reality. They are meant to reassure those people who have chosen Christ… the words suggest that Jesus understands and even expected what the people were facing. That interpretation helps, for me at least. The elephant is smaller, but still there.

So, given the extreme challenges of these readings, I asked myself what I could offer to you today. It is my task and responsibility to share and proclaim the Scriptures. What can I preach? I can only offer you my own personal reassurance, based on my own experience, that I’m better off with the Bible than without it. It has been my experience that the more I read the Scriptures, the closer I know myself to God and the more deeply I feel God’s love. Tempting as it may be, with passages like those appointed for today, to read less of the Scriptures or to discount their value, my experience has taught me the immeasurable reward of reading more.

It tells my story and the story of people I know and God is a part of that story. I know people like Sarah who had so many wonderful qualities: full of faith, gracious with hospitality, and a good sense of humor. Who in this passage is consumed with petty jealousy towards the son who is not hers. And I know people like those for whom Matthew wrote. People who are afraid, especially afraid to claim their faith. Whose backbones in the faith need bolstering. These stories speak of God’s abiding presence with them.

With his usual pithy wit, Frederick Buechner writes about the Bible in his book Wishful Thinking:

In short, one way to describe the Bible, written by many different men over a period of three thousand years and more, would be to say that it is a disorderly collection of sixty-odd books which are often tedious, barbaric, obscure, and teem with contradictions and inconsistencies. It is a swarming compost of a book, an Irish stew of poetry and propaganda, law and legalism, myth and murk, history and hysteria. Over the centuries it has become hopelessly associated with tub-thumping evangelism, and dreary piety, with superannuated superstition and blue-nosed moralizing, with ecclesiastical authoritarianism and crippling literalism. Let him who tries to start out at Genesis and work his way conscientiously to Revelation beware.

And yet—

And yet just because it is a book about both the sublime and the unspeakable, it is a book also about life the way it really is. It is a book about people who at one and the same time can be both believing and unbelieving, innocent and guilty, crusaders and crooks, full of hope and full of despair. In other words it is a book about us.

And it is also a book about God….

The great Protestant theologian Karl Barth says that reading the Bible is like looking out of the window and seeing everybody on the street shading their eyes with their hands and gazing up into the sky toward something which is hidden from us by the roof. They are pointing up. They are speaking strange words. They are very excited. Something is happening which we can’t see happening. Or something is about to happen. Something beyond our comprehension has caught them up and is seeking to lead them on “from land to land for strange, intense, uncertain, and yet mysteriously well-planned service” (Karl Barth, The Word of God and the Word of Men, 1957).

To read the Bible is to try to read the expression on their faces. To listen to the words of the Bible is to try to catch the sound of the queer, dangerous, and compelling word they see to hear. 

 It is reading the reality and presence of God through the words and experience of others. And it has been my experience that the more I read, the closer I know that God is to me and people I know and love. The more I read the more clearly I see and feel God’s love and care. The more I read the more I feel myself led deeper into the wonder of God’s kingdom.

For most of us, summer provides some measure of leisure. Make good use of that leisure. Read the Bible.

Trinity Sunday - June 15

The Great Commission
Matthew 28:16-20

Today, of course, is one of the seven principal feast days on the church calendar. The most important holy days we celebrate together in worship. It is Trinity Sunday.

To paraphrase a clergy colleague of mine. She has given up trying to explain the Trinity. She says the main thing you learn in seminary is which particular heresy is your personal favorite. I remember one of my seminary classmates deciding she was quite happy being a Pelagian… (Although I think, technically that is a Christological, rather than Trinitarian heresy.) I certainly learned more about identifying heresies than fully understanding the Trinity. And I would say that everyone who starts a sentence “I’ve always understood the Trinity this way…” is about to describe one of the Trinitarian heresies.

Another thing I learned in seminary was not to try to preach on the doctrine on Trinity Sunday; preach on the Scripture lessons.

And the lessons appointed for today are worthy of our attention. We have the glorious sweep of the creation story. And the celebration of the goodness that is in all that God, as creator, has created, from the seas to the stars, from the creeping things to us.

The epistle and gospel readings are obviously appointed for this day because both include words that imply, possibly, a Trinity. We heard the closing benediction from Second Corinthians: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.” And we heard Jesus’ Great Commission in Matthew 28: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

These apparently Trinitarian words long predate any development of the doctrine of God as Trinity. That would begin to evolve in the 4th century. And the celebration of the Trinity as a part of the church calendar wouldn’t start until the 10th or 11th centuries. The collect for this day comes from that time. As much as I cherish the collects in the Book of Common Prayer, this is not one of my favorites. It includes our plea that we remain steadfast in the confession of a “true” faith… a true faith being one of orthodox Trinitarianism.

I’ll come back to the collect, but first the Gospel. You should know this Gospel passage. Anyone with any involvement in the Christian life should be able to roughly quote it and know its context. When you hear it, a light bulb should go off: “Ah, the Great Commission.” If you come to the service on Wednesdays you will hear it a bit more often. We commemorate the saints in that service and this gospel passage is appointed for several of them, from St. Patrick to Jackson Kemper. Patrick you’ve undoubtedly heard of. Jackson Kemper’s ministry was in the early 1800’s. He was the first “missionary bishop” of the Episcopal church. He served the wilderness of Wisconsin.

The verses appointed for today come at the close of Matthew’s Gospel. This is one of only two post-resurrection appearances of Jesus described in Matthew. Matthew tells how on that first Easter Day the resurrected Jesus meets some women who had lingered at the tomb. The first post-resurrection appearance. He tells them to tell the disciples that he will meet them in Galilee.

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’

This passage does include that apparently Trinitarian phrase which, of course, we still use when we baptize as we did last Sunday. But I don’t think anyone would maintain that Jesus’ main point here has anything to do with the doctrine of the Trinity.

This is the resurrected Christ speaking to his closest disciples. These are his final words to them. What does Jesus tell them to DO? He does not tell them: Go out there and study real heard so you can understand the doctrine of Trinity. He does not even tell them to go out there and make sure everyone else ascribes to the true orthodox Trinitarian faith. Jesus says, go make disciples. Disciple means follower. Go and bring others to follow me. Go and bring others to me.

And it does not seem that they need to have “true” faith to be disciples. Matthew says that even those who found themselves in the presence of the risen Christ doubted.

When they saw Jesus, they worshiped him; but some doubted. New Testament Professor Stanley Saunders writes about this passage:

Most English translations of 28:17 leave the impression that the disciples included some worshippers and some doubters, but the Greek may also be translated, perhaps more naturally, to suggest that the whole group of disciples both worship and doubt.

The Greek word distazo carries a sense of standing in two places at the same time or being of two minds. Jesus commissions not perfect disciples, but people who both worship and doubt as they stand at the edge of the world that is passing away and the one that is coming to them. 

 In Matthew’s Gospel, this is the culmination of all of Jesus’ life and ministry, the summation of all that he has come to do, his last words to those who have been closest and most devoted to him on earth. And to those disciples (whose understanding, even then, is incomplete and whose faith is uncertain) the resurrected Christ says: You’re the ones. Go. You’re the ones. Go. Go out there and bring others to me. And, “Lo, (as Jesus often says in King James English) LO, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.” Go out amongst all peoples and make disciples. And remember, he said to them and he says to us “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Pentecost - June 8

Divided Tongues 
 Acts 2:1-21

Do you have a visual image of the Pentecost event? When you think about the story we just heard from Acts, how do you picture it in your imagination? A group of bearded men gathered together, each one with a little flame dancing over his head? That’s how I’ve always pictured it. Each disciple with his personal flamelette.

Pastor Bradley Schmelling writes:

I learned many Bible stories by watching movies in Sunday school. They were those old-fashioned movies, shown on a reel-to-reel projector, that tried to portray the stories as some Cecil B. DeMille wannabe imagined they took place. They were seldom more than a few steps grander than the local Christmas pageant; most of the disciples basically wore fancy bathrobes.

The Pentecost movie was dramatic. They all had flames above their heads, and they closed their eyes as they mysteriously spoke in tongues….

The movie managed to portray the Pentecost story as an individual, private experience. [But] the text says that “all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit.” That's "all," not "each." Pentecost was a communal experience. 

Pentecost was a communal experience. No little individual personal flamelettes.

I’ve recently come across a really neat visual representation of Pentecost that presents a different perspective. It’s a mosaic. A modern mosaic by Anne Wyner installed in 1988 in one of the chapels at the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham in England.

And this is what the Scriptures say. There was a sound that filled the entire house where they were gathered together. Then “divided” tongues rested upon each disciple. Not individual tongues, divided tongues from the Spirit that came upon them all, filling the space where they were gathered.

It’s common to refer to Pentecost as the “birthday of the church.” That’s OK, but it sounds a bit too institutional for me. This is not the birthday of an institution or organization. It’s better to think of Pentecost as being about the formation of a new community. The community of the new covenant. God, through the Holy Spirit, takes a group of individuals and forms the Community of the New Covenant.

It’s the Spirit that enfolds, encompasses, connects, creates the community. God didn’t give individual doses of the Spirit to each disciple. God filled all of them with the Spirit, forming and establishing the Community of the New Covenant. And baptism is initiation into the community of the new covenant. Ethan, today you will be initiated into this community, the community of the new covenant.

It’s worthy of note that when it was established this was a remarkable inclusive community. Inclusive really across every measure of diversity they were aware of at the time. Peter, quoting Joel, says that it includes men and women, old and young Paul talks about including slaves and free! And, of course, the Pentecost story is about including all nations, every color and ethnicity known at the time.

As the Holy Spirit forms this community, the Spirit brings two things into the community: the presence of Christ and the power of God. The presence of Christ and the power of God. I think many of us are drawn to the church, the community of the new covenant, seeking and finding the presence of Christ within this community. Seeking the peace and hope and guidance that the presence of Christ brings to us. But inseparable from the presence of Christ is the power of God.

The Spirit enables, activates, empowers the community of the new covenant to do nothing less than what Christ did in his earthly ministry.

The Community of the New Covenant is the continuation of Christ’s presence and work on the earth. Think about it. After the gift of the Spirit, Peter (!) preaches a sermon that draws thousands into God’s kingdom. Peter does what Jesus did. The disciples heal, just as Jesus did. In today’s Gospel from John, Jesus says, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” You are sent to do what I have been doing. Including forgiving sins.

Paul lists the gifts that members of the community of the new covenant have been given. Everyone does something. Everyone has a role doing Christ’s work for the common good.

As members of the Community of the New Covenant, you have all been given the gift and the power to do Christ’s work. How are you using that power? The power of God? What are you doing? The Community of the covenant has been given the power to do nothing less that what Christ did in his earthly ministry. What are you doing?

The source of that power is here. Not in the building, but in the community assembled in fellowship and prayer. The Holy Spirit is present in the community assembled. It is within the community that we plug into our common source, that flame that binds and encompasses us all.

So get rid of that image of little personal flamelettes dancing over individual heads. This mosaic is a much better image. The Spirit comes with power throughout the community assembled. Power to create the Community of the New Covenant and empower us with nothing less than “power from on high,” God’s own power to be the Body of Christ in the world.

The Sixth Sunday of Easter - May 25

Parades and Processions

I’ve been thinking about parades lately. Two things bring parades to mind. First, this time of year anyone living within a few blocks of Parker Junior High will have heard the marching band out practicing in the mornings. Playing a patriotic medley and marching around the neighborhood preparing for the Homewood Memorial Day parade.

In addition to being Memorial Day, on the church calendar tomorrow is the first of the spring Rogation Days. We don’t talk too much about the Rogation Days anymore, but the one thing the church does on the Rogation Days is have parades, or processions, as we call them in the church.

Memorial Day is a holiday that has accumulated a very mixed assortment of traditions and associations over the years. In the same way I hear people lament the loss of Christ in the Christmas holiday, I hear a lament for the loss of Memorial in the Memorial Day holiday.

But amid the mattress sales and beer-soaked barbecues, there are parades. Memorial Day parades. And I think those parades, at their best, speak to the true meaning of Memorial Day. In general, parades have the potential to fill some very positive roles. They build community and form identity and they perpetuate or teach that identity and community to succeeding generations.

Memorial Day parades have the potential to be tainted by partisan politics or a sort of national triumphalism. But overall, especially the smaller, local parades remind us that we are a community with some sort of connection and care for one another. This assortment of individuals who watch and march is a community, drawn together by the parade itself. And the content of a parade says something about what we as a community value… in this case, the freedom and opportunities that this country offers and our respect for those who have fought to defend those freedoms and opportunities. Memorial Day parades bring us together as a community and they proclaim and teach our respect for those who serve.

As my own offering to help keep the Memorial in Memorial Day and Memorial Day parades, I want to read a portion of a poem. It’s funny that I should quote poems two Sundays in a row. I’m really not much of a reader or student of poetry. This one is by Robert Service. Unlike George Herbert, whom I quoted last week, I don’t think anyone would claim that Robert Service is one of the greatest poets in the English language. But he’s one of the poets who actually made a living at it and his verses are memorable in their own way. He lived from 1874 – 1958. Originally British, he lived much of his adult life in western Canada and is sometimes informally called the “Bard of the Yukon.” This poem is March of the Dead. Written, I think, with reference to the Boer Wars, it’s images are relevant to any war.

The cruel war was over -- oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
And you scarce could hear the music for the cheers.
And you scarce could see the house-tops for the flags that flew between;
The bells were pealing madly to the sky;
And everyone was shouting for the Soldiers of the Queen,
And the glory of an age was passing by.

And then there came a shadow, swift and sudden, dark and drear;
The bells were silent, not an echo stirred.
The flags were drooping sullenly, the men forgot to cheer;
We waited, and we never spoke a word.
The sky grew darker, darker, till from out the gloomy rack
There came a voice that checked the heart with dread:
"Tear down, tear down your bunting now, and hang up sable black;
They are coming -- it's the Army of the Dead."

They were coming, they were coming, gaunt and ghastly, sad and slow;
They were coming, all the crimson wrecks of pride;
With faces seared, and cheeks red smeared, and haunting eyes of woe,
And clotted holes the khaki couldn't hide….
"We're the men who paid the blood-price. Shall the grave be all our gain?
You owe us. Long and heavy is the score.
Then cheer us for our glory now, and cheer us for our pain,
And cheer us as ye never cheered before." 

In addition to being Memorial Day, tomorrow is the first of the Rogation Days. It just happens to fall on Memorial Day this year. Like everything else in the church calendar, the Rogation Days are late this year. They are always the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday before Ascension Day. Not unlike Memorial Day, the Rogation Days have accreted traditions and associations over the years. But they have always included parades/processions. The Rogation Days supplanted pagan traditions that sought divine protection for the fields at the time of the spring plantings. So there were processions around the fields. Later, in England, Rogation Day processions were associated with the beating of the bounds, a parade/procession around the geographic perimeter of the parish.

Focusing particularly on the English tradition, think about the role of the procession. The parish gathered as a community, affirming that their parish affiliation bound them together in community. They marched the boundaries of the parish. This is who we are; our identity is defined by these boundaries. Part of the procession was directly intended to teach the parish boundaries to the young, passing along the nature of their identity. And they prayed as they processed. The content of the parade said everything about who they were and what they valued. Prayer.

We have a couple of parades here very Sunday. The entering procession and the exiting procession. The entering procession symbolizes the fact that we gather from different places and different activities to come together here as the people of this parish.

And once gathered by that parade, what we do says a lot about our identity. We sing and pray. We are people of praise and prayer. This morning we sang “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” We are people who see God’s presence in all of creation, who give thanks to God for all things bright and beautiful.

In our prayers we also give thanks for those people who have fought and died for freedom. And we pray that we may be people who serve God by using our freedoms faithfully.

And we are a people, having been drawn together, who gather around a table, the Lord’s Table to share the gift of his living presence with one another.

Finally, there is another parade, as we march back out into the world to love and serve the Lord.

The Fifth Sunday of Easter - May 18

The Call
John 14:1-14

John 14:6, a pretty well-known line of Scripture. “Jesus said… ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’

I think most people have one of two typical reactions to this passage, two quite different reactions. (1) Some people encounter this passage with a sense of struggle. They would label it one of Jesus’ “difficult” sayings. Really, Jesus, no one comes to the Father except through you? No one can come to God without some specific affirmation of faith? No one? Not the unbaptized child? Not the person who has never heard the Gospel? Not my child or my sibling who is such a very good person, but not an active Christian? No one? Alternatively, many people find in this passage a reassuring promise from Jesus, a bedrock statement about salvation. And my hunch is, which ever of these reactions you have, it’s very hard to acknowledge any legitimacy for the other perspective…

Rachel Held Evans just this week:

Now, John 14 has become a go-to text for discussions around salvation, exclusivism, and religious pluralism, which are worthy discussion to have, but that tend to pull verse six out of its context. I won’t say much about that today, except to mention that it’s worth keeping in mind that these words were spoken in an intimate setting among Jesus’ closest disciples, so we should be careful of interpreting them as applicable only to those who believe differently than we do. 

The fourteenth chapter of John is part of Jesus’ long farewell discourse. It goes on for chapters and occurs on in John’s Gospel. It’s very difficult to know how much of what Jesus says in this discourse comes directly from Jesus’ own words and how much of it reflects the emerging theology of the early Christian community?

So what do we do with John 14:6? Is it a litmus test, meant to divide those who are in versus those who are out? Or is it a reassuring promise of what Jesus offers us? I want to offer you another view of this passage. Another interpretation. Another glorious window into and through these words of Scripture.

The interpretation comes from George Herbert. If you don’t know who he is, you should. We remember him in our calendar of saints on February 27. He was an English poet and priest who lived from 1593-1633. Lesser Feasts and Fasts says this:

George Herbert is famous for his poems and his prose work, A Priest in the Temple: or The Country Parson. He is portrayed by his biographer Izaak Walton as a model of the saintly parish priest. Herbert described his poems as “a picture of the any spiritual conflicts that have passed betwixt God and my soul, before I could submit mine to the will of Jesus my Master in whose service I have found perfect freedom.

For another perspective, not biased by our Anglican heritage, I want to share a bit of the biography of Herbert published online by The Poetry Foundation:

Nestled somewhere within the Age of Shakespeare and the Age of Milton is George Herbert. There is no Age of Herbert: he did not consciously fashion an expansive literary career for himself, and his characteristic gestures, insofar as these can be gleaned from his poems and other writings, tend to be careful self-scrutiny rather than rhetorical pronouncement; local involvement rather than broad social engagement; and complex, ever-qualified lyric contemplation rather than epic or dramatic mythmaking. This is the stuff of humility and integrity, not celebrity. But even if Herbert does not appear to be one of the larger-than-life cultural monuments of seventeenth-century England—a position that virtually requires the qualities of irrepressible ambition and boldness, if not self-regarding arrogance, that he attempted to flee—he is in some ways a pivotal figure: enormously popular, deeply and broadly influential, and arguably the most skillful and important British devotional lyricist of this or any other time.

Herbert wrote a poem that starts from John 14:6. It is titled “The Call,” and that’s important to note. The Call.

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life;
Such a Way as gives us breath,
Such a Truth as ends all strife,
Such a Life as killeth death.

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength;
Such a Light as shows a Feast,
Such a Feast as mends in length,
Such a Strength as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart;
Such a Joy as none can move,
Such a Love as none can part,
Such a Heart as joys in love.

Come my way, says Jesus. My way offers breath, restoration. Come my way into a truth that does not build barriers or generate division. My truth ends all strife. Come into a life that is even stronger than death.

As the Hymnal Companion points out, the second stanza is “in many ways the least accessible.” It may refer to Jesus’ words about letting our light shine. Shine upon the Eucharist. And “unlike meals of human preparation, the Lords’ Supper does not cloy or surfeit but improves and heals in duration…. The closing line of this stanza shows a profound capacity to perceive the connection of divine strength with both creativity and hospitality.” Such a strength as makes his guest.

Then come my Joy, my Love, my Heart. Jesus’ joy and love in us and for us that cannot be separated from us. No one can move or part Jesus’ love from us.

I’m left with two reflections on Herbert’s poem. First is how the poem itself witnesses to the power of ongoing and creative interpretation of Scripture. What George Herbert has done with John 14:6 is something each of us, with our own particular gifts and talents and in our own time and circumstances, can do with Scripture. It is a glorious example of the interpretation of Scripture.

And second, Herbert reminds us that the most fundamental meaning of John 14:6 is invitation. Regardless of whether these verses strike you as a troubling litmus test or a reassuring promise, more profoundly than either of those things, these verses are an invitation, a “Call”. A glorious invitation into life in Christ.