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.

The Sixth Sunday of Easter - May 5

A Vision Glorious
Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

For several weeks now in this resurrection season of Easter, we’ve had readings from Revelation as part of our Sunday Scripture readings. And we’ll hear from Revelation again next week for the Last Sunday in Easter season.

These readings are from Revelation, chapters 21 and 22. These chapters are the conclusion, the culmination of this strange book. Had we begun at the beginning of Revelation we would have covered some fantastical territory before getting to chapter 21. But Barbara Rossing, a scholar whose specialty is Revelation describes chapters 21 and 22 as “one of the most wonderful eschatological pictures in all of Scripture.”

These chapters describe an apocalyptic vision of a New Jerusalem. It is a vision of things not yet literally seen. It is one man’s vision of the fulfillment of God’s plan, the realization of God’s promise.

It is a vision. It is tempting to say it is “just” a vision. But bear in mind that all apocalyptic or eschatological writing depends upon the seers of visions. As I was reading and researching for my Lenten class on heaven, I was reminded that everything we know about heaven—or everything we think we know about heaven—comes from visions.

Nonetheless, they are “just” visions. Especially with the wild visions of Revelation it is tempting to discount them.

Writing about the book of Revelation, Raymond Brown [Introduction to the New Testament] points out that, at the very least, it reminds us that God’s plan is beyond any sort of human description. He strongly cautions against attempting to interpret Revelation predictively or looking for specific historical referants within the text. It is “figurative language.” “The symbolism of apocalyptic compels imaginative participation on the part of the hearers/readers. It finds its full meaning when it elicits emotions and feelings that cannot be conceptualized." 

The writing in books like Revelation is meant to compel our imaginative participation. It finds its full meaning… this writing does what it is supposed to do when it elicits in us emotions and feelings that we cannot intellectually conceptualize. It is meant to stimulate our imaginations, our emotions and our feelings.

So, we can discount Revelation as “just” a vision or we can choose to be moved by it. We can choose to enter into the vision and let it work upon our imaginations and our hearts. I choose to let the vision move my imagination and my heart. It strikes me that this is not unlike the “choice” to fall in love or the “choice” to forgive someone who has wronged you. These are all choices to let yourself be moved, to let your imagination, emotion, or feelings be affected by something beyond yourself.

So what’s in this particular vision?

First, one important note:

Barbara Rossing again: Belief in a heavenly Jerusalem was widespread in biblical times. What is so striking in Revelation—unlike any other Jewish apocalypse—is that this heavenly city descends from heaven down to earth. Contrary to popular apocalyptic thinking [for example in the Left Behind books], there is no “rapture” or a future snatching of Christians up from the earth in Revelation. Instead, it is God who is “raptured” down to earth to take up residence among us.” The fulfillment of God’s plan, the hope of all God’s creation, takes place here, on this earth. It’s not about escaping this world; it’s about renewing this world.

There’s one phrase in today’s reading from Revelation that seems a bit troubling, where the seer writes that “only those written in the Lamb’s book of life,” will participate in the New Jerusalem. Rossing says that those words are not meant as prediction, but as exhortation. They are not meant to predict that only some have already been or will be chosen. They are meant to exhort us to choose to be the Lamb’s own.

It’s a glorious vision we hear about in today’s reading.

A place with no need of sun or moon , for the glory of God is its light.

Where nothing unclean exists, even our uncleanness and sinfulness are healed. A place where trees are sources of healing.

There is a river bright as crystal. It is paradise, restored.

Remember: This sort of writing finds its full meaning when it elicits emotions and feelings that cannot be conceptualized. It is meant to tickle our imagination with glory. To stir our hearts with hope and joy.

It also invites us to bring this vision into our world, our lives today. We who claim this vision and are moved by it are meant to share it into the world.

In my imagination, my own retelling of the vision, that means something like:

We are to be people who dance in the face of the death with the same joyful abandon that my water dogs dance in the rain. In the midst of life’s storms, even in the face of death, we are to be people of joy.

We are to be people who dress like seven-year-old girls dress today, with layers of bright colors and sparkles and sequins everywhere, so that we bring the light of Christ into this world’s darkness.

We are to be people who offer forgiveness, not curses, to the evil that confronts us.

It’s a glorious vision!