The Second Sunday in Lent

Another Day at the Office (with Satan)
Mark 8:31-38

Just to review how today’s Gospel passage begins: Jesus is teaching his disciples. He says that the Son of Man will undergo great suffering, be rejected by the leaders of his own people and then be killed. Peter is troubled by Jesus’ words and rebukes him. Then Jesus, in turn, rebukes Peter, saying to him, “Get behind me, Satan.” Jesus speaks directly to Peter, saying to his face, “Get behind me, Satan.”

I’ve read and heard this Gospel passage many times. As I entered into the story this year, something new really hit me. Peter stuck around. Even after this very highly charged exchange with Jesus, Peter stuck around.

People turn away from Christ and leave the Christian life all the time. When I think of the casual, petty and insignificant reasons that people leave the church or turn away from the Christian life… When I think of those excuses in light of this passage, it’s pretty striking. People feel justified leaving the church or the Christian life for incredibly casual, petty and insignificant reasons. Peter’s Lord, Jesus, accuses Peter of being Satan or at least speaking Satan’s words. And Peter stayed around.

So what all is really going on in this passage? It helps to put it in a larger context. Just a few verses before the passage we heard today is that portion of Mark’s Gospel usually called “The Confession of Peter.” Jesus asks the disciples who people say he is. They give a variety of answers. Jesus presses them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter says, “You are the Messiah, the Christ.” Peter recognizes Jesus as God’s anointed Messiah.

Then Jesus begins to teach how the Messiah must suffer, be rejected and killed.  This is what upsets  Peter and he rebukes Jesus. The Greek has a patronizing tone to it. Peter is putting Jesus down, correcting Jesus as though he were a child or an underling.

Several scholars I referred to pointed out that Peter was actually on pretty solid ground. There was absolutely no expectation within the Judaism of Jesus’ and Peter’s day that the Messiah would suffer. It may be hard for us, looking back through two millennia of Christian understanding to realize how crazy Jesus would have sounded to Jews of his day.

A suffering Messiah? It’s easy to imagine Peter saying, “No, Jesus, you know that’s not what we’ve been taught. That’s not what the Scriptures say about the Messiah. Let’s nip this misunderstanding in the bud, get it straightened out before we go any further. Our Messiah will not undergo suffering or rejection… He will come in strength and glory.”

And Jesus said, “Get behind me, Satan.”

Peter might have been feeling like a pretty nifty disciple after getting the Messiah thing right. His confidence was probably soaring pretty high. And then Jesus says to him, “Now I see or hear Satan in you.” And Peter stayed around!

Jesus saw or heard Satan in Peter’s words and actions. Satan. The Greek is satanas. Scripture does not paint a full or entirely consistent picture of Satan as an incarnation of evil. The word means “adversary.” Satan is the adversary or opponent to God’s will. Whether incarnate or not, what is meant here is a power, a force that opposes God’s will.

Mark is clear in this Gospel passage that it is God’s will that the Messiah suffer and be rejected and killed. So Satan is the force that seeks to suppress or oppose God’s will for a suffering Messiah. There are a couple of ways this can be interpreted. One focuses on Jesus. Maybe in Peter’s words, Jesus hears the same tempter he heard in the wilderness after his baptism. Jesus hears Satan, the tempter, trying to encourage him to abandon his divine mission with its suffering in favor of human goals like comfort, glory or power.

Or maybe the passage is more about Peter. Maybe Satan’s voice is the voice encouraging Peter to reshape Jesus into something that fits Peter’s expectations. That’s a powerful temptation within us all—to create God according to our own needs and expectations.

Either way, Peter’s words are part of trying to replace God’s will for a suffering Messiah with some other human desire.

And in reaction, Jesus doesn’t mince words. His words to Peter are not even remotely pastoral. Mark tells us Jesus looked at all the disciples. At least in my imagination, Jesus is thinking, “Peter may have said it, but all of you were thinking it.” Then he rebukes Peter: “Get behind me, Satan.”

And Peter stays around. In fact, right after today’s passage, Mark recounts the story of the Transfiguration. Where Jesus takes Peter (!), James and John up to the mountaintop to see the radiant glory of God shining forth in the person of Jesus. Peter experiences the glory of God face to face.

The relationship between Peter and Jesus did not end after the accusation and struggle with Satan. The relationship between Peter and Jesus did not end. Neither of them ended it. Peter did not sulk away with his feelings hurt. Nor did Jesus cast Peter out of the fellowship of disciples. A new day dawned. The relationship continued. In way, even an event as highly charged as this one is just another day at the office for disciples of Christ.

We don’t know if there was some moment of private reconciliation between Peter and Jesus. I like to think there was. I like to think Peter recognized his hubris and went to Jesus. "I'm sorry, Lord. Please forgive me. And help me remember that I need your help to guide me in the right way." I like to think that Peter expressed his repentance and found reconciliation in God’s mercy.

This passage seems to carry two messages for us in our lives today. The first is a reminder of the significance of evil in our lives. Whether or not you think of evil as something incarnate in a Satan or whether you see evil as darkness within the human heart and soul, whenever we—by our action or inaction—oppose the will of God, we are in the same camp as Peter. Peter’s misspeaking may not seem like a big deal, the sort of thing we would brush off, especially since we can explain it as such an easy mistake given the circumstances. We often can explain away our own missteps in the life of faith... given the circumstances. Surely our words or actions are not that big a deal… Not really evil. No.  Every single time our actions or our inaction thwarts or opposes the will of God, we are in the same place as Peter when Jesus says to him, “Get behind me, Satan.”

Second, as significant as evil is for us, it is also routine. This exchange was almost a normal everyday occurrence between Jesus and Peter. Confronting and overcoming evil in our world, within ourselves is a routine part of the Christian life. We need not fear that our own struggle with the voice of Satan will permanently alienate us from Jesus. The relationship will continue. It’s just another day at the office for Christian disciples.

Evil is both more significant and more common that we think.

We are in the season of Lent, of course. On Ash Wednesday, the church invited all of us to the observance of a holy Lent. Part of that invitation was a description of the origin and purpose of Lent. This season of Lent “was a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church. Thereby, the whole congregation was put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.”

All Christians need to continually renew their repentance and faith. The Christian life is never static. There is never a time in the Christian life to pause and measure our success or accomplishments. There is never a time when we can say, “I have arrived! I have recognized the Messiah.” The Christian life is a process of continual repentance and renewal. And for those, like Peter, who stick around, tomorrow may bring amazing revelation of glory.

Ash Wednesday

I Know Where I Am Going

One of the church’s hymns for Lent begins with these words, “Eternal Lord of love behold your Church / Walking once more the pilgrim way of Lent.” The pilgrim way of Lent.

I’ve mentioned before that the seasons of the church year are cumulative. We experience them sequentially, one after another. But each season teaches us something about our relationship with God that is always true. So the perspective and the message of Lent is true not just during these forty days. Lent is an ongoing part of our faithful life.

As they hymn reminds us, one of the images for Lent is a pilgrimage. During Lent we walk the pilgrim’s way. The power of this metaphor is that a pilgrimage has destination. A pilgrimage always has a destination. A pilgrimage is defined by its destination. It is different from a journey of exploration. And definitely different from a casual stroll or aimless wandering. A pilgrimage has a clear destination, often a sacred place, that draws the pilgrim forward.

The naturalist and author Loren Eiseley wrote that perhaps Jesus’ most remarkable proclamation was: I know where I am going. I have come from the father and I am going to the father. I know where I am going. Maybe this proclamation struck him particularly from the perspective of the natural world where where events may seem random, or out of control, or at best cyclical. But not intentional or directional.

Jesus said: I know where I am going.

That is the mantra of a pilgrim. I know where I am going.

As you look at your life or at the world around you, do you see aimlessness or do events feel out of control or does life seem like an endless loop, round and round over and over again?

Jesus says: I am not wandering aimlessly. I am not walking in circles. My earthly pilgrimage has a destination. I know where I am going.

And we know where we are going. Lent reminds us that we are always pilgrims. We are pilgrims Easter bound. Lent always ends in Easter. We are on a pilgrimage to Easter—to fullness of life, to freedom from all that binds or oppresses us, to eternal life shared in the nearer presence of God. We are on the road to Easter.

We know where we are going, and Lent reminds us to live our lives now mindful of the destination towards which we travel. We are called to live our daily lives always aware, always mindful, of where we are going.

We know where are going.

When we’re feeling harried or life seems out of control, we know where we are going.

When we’re crushed or immobilized with guilt or despair, we know where we are going.

When we are struggling with illness or any of life’s hardships, we know where we are going.

And when we’re about to rush past someone in need, we should stop to remember that we know where we are going.

We know where we are going.

To live always mindful of our pilgrimage’s destination changes how we live in the present. This is the important part. To live mindful that we are Easter bound sanctifies the present and transforms the way we live.

When we say, I know where I am going, it transforms how we treat one another. When we say I know where I am going, it transforms how we treat the created world around us. When we say I know where I am going, it transforms what we do with our own lives.

To think of life as a pilgrimage does not mean that our earthly lives are no more than a means to an end. Nor does it mean that we are in charge of building the highway to heaven. Jesus’ death and resurrection have opened the Easter way for us. By God’s grace, we are promised our journey’s end. We may find that our pilgrimage’s path meanders in unexpected ways, but we always know where we are going.

To live mindful of our destination transforms and sanctifies the present. That is part of Lent’s gift. To know that we are going to God opens us up to knowing God more fully here. We are “toward your presence bent,” the hymn says, “far off yet here—the goal of all desire.” God’s presence is both far off and here. And the more we bend our pilgrimage towards God, the more deeply we will know God in our lives now.

To live as pilgrims, knowing our destination, is a daily journey into holiness. Lent may seem like a trial. But really it is a reminder to us that—throughout our lives—we are always on the way to Easter.

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Your Faith is Yours
Mark 9:2-9

Today is the last Sunday after the Epiphany. In a few days, Lent will begin on Ash Wednesday. Today is our last Sunday to say Alleluia, our last Sunday in this Epiphany season.

Every year on this last Sunday after the Epiphany we hear one of the Gospel accounts of the Transfiguration. We call this story Jesus’ Transfiguration because it describes how his appearance appeared to be changed. We call this Jesus’ transfiguration, but this story is really about Peter, James and John. It is about their recognition that they are in the presence of God. It is about their rush of awareness that God’s glory is in Jesus. This story is about their realization without a doubt that Jesus is the living God. God is with them, among them. Close enough to touch. Close enough to talk to. Right there for them to interact with.

I want to remind you that Peter, James and John were laypeople. They were not clergy. Of course, technically, Christian clergy didn’t exist at the time, but the point is still valid. Peter, James and John were lay people. And God was right there with them. And they knew it.

Peter, James and John did not need or depend upon someone else to tell them about God or to bring God to them. They experienced God directly.

Over the centuries after the event of the Transfiguration, the Christian movement grew. As Christianity grew, the institutional church grew with it, and the awareness that people could experience God directly changed. The church and its ordained leadership became the sole purveyor of God. The church and its ordained leadership were the only supplier of God into peoples’ lives.

A big part of what the Protestant reformation was about was hitting the reset button on this issue. The Protestant reformation was about correcting the trend that had taken hold. The reformation proclaimed: you do not need, you should not depend upon, the church alone to bring God to you.

The church is not the only purveyor God’s grace. You do not need… you should not depend upon… the church as the only way God can come into your life. Although we Protestants have been saying that since the 16th century, it’s been more difficult to make it real for people. We’ve affirmed it, but the church hasn’t lived it. A while back I read a pamphlet by the Rev. Frank Wade, for many years Rector of St. Alban’s, the parish church on the grounds of the National Cathedral in Washington. He points out that for centuries the implicit teaching and understanding of the church has been that the people’s job is just to “congregate,” hence the term congregation. The people are just to congregate, to gather. Then the priest “ministers” God to them.

I’ve been thinking about this, not just because of the story of the Transfiguration, but because of the Episcopal Diocese of Quincy. The Episcopal Diocese of Quincy was formed in 1877. It has always been small. It comprises ten rural counties in the area around Peoria. It is also one of the four dioceses within the Episcopal Church that have been wracked in the last few years by conflict and schism as their former bishops have left the Episcopal Church and have tried to take as many people as possible with them. I cannot speak to the issues of conscience or faith that have led those bishops to feel they must leave the Episcopal Church. But their efforts to take others with them have been extremely destructive to the faithful lives of hundreds of Christians.

The group of people in the Diocese of Quincy who very much want to remain in the Episcopal Church have been working to discern their future. They are considering the possibility of reunification with the Diocese of Chicago, and they have asked for the opportunity to discuss that with us. Bishop Lee has asked me to be a part of that still informal conversation. I have heard stories from Quincy, and second hand from the other conflicted dioceses, of bishops willfully manipulating others, of hiding information, of cloaking power plays in secrecy. It is these actions that have been deeply hurtful—in large part because of a system that granted to the bishop too much personal authority and power over the faith lives and Christian identities of people in the pews. The tragic and destructive and hurtful results of these bishop’s actions have happened, in part, because lay people were too dependent upon ordained leadership for their sense of God’s presence in their lives.

I am not blaming the victims. The hurt in Quincy and the other dioceses happened because a very few men abused their power. But it is a power they never should have had, but for the misguided history of the church.

This is definitely not to say that the institutional church is bad. Nor is there anything inherently wrong with ordained leadership (especially not today, the 20th anniversary of my ordination).

I think we need the institutional church. I’ve said before that I don’t think you can be a Christian on your own. Or if you can, it is only a washed out sort of Christian with all the color sucked out. To live vividly and vibrantly as a Christian, you need community. You need to be a part of the Body of Christ. The institutional church is, by far, the best way to nurture and sustain Christian community.

It is within community that we perceive God with us, often active in the lives of others. As the Body of Christ, we are able to make the kingdom of God real, as best we can, in the world around us. And, at least as Episcopalians, we believe that it is within community that we receive the gift of the sacraments. We need community. It is a gift to us, made real by the institutional church.

But your faith is YOURS. Your relationship with your Lord is yours. You are a beloved child of God. God cares for you and is directly present to you. Your faith is yours. Claim it. Live it. Do not let anyone rob you of your direct experience of God. Do not ever fall into dependence upon the church—or the ordained leadership of the church—to provide your only access to God. God is made present through the church, but not only through the church. Do not let anyone else control or limit your life in Christ.

Remember, Peter, James and John were lay people.

But they did have to climb the mountain. With their own two feet.

You have a vivid, vibrant life with Christ, now and ahead of you. God is present in your life. Close enough to touch, to talk with, to interact with.

But you have to claim that faithful life. You have to live it! You have to climb the mountain. Lent is a good opportunity to pick up some or more of that responsibility for your life of faith, your relationship with God. Take on some sort of Lenten discipline this year—something to strengthen your direct relationship with God in your life.

And hang on to that image of Peter, James and John on the mountain. Lay people just like you. In the presence of their Lord.

The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

Saint Naaman
2 Kings 5:1-14

The Old Testament story we heard today is a great story, full of lots of interesting characters. Most of them—with the exception of Elisha—are minor within the sweep of the whole Bible. We never hear of them again. But they are fascinating in this story. We get little psychological insights into their characters and they are complicated, full of mixed motives. For me this makes this story real and timeless. It speaks just as powerfully to us today as it did when it took place. The people and issues are contemporary.

Just to review. Naaman is a prominent military leader in the nation of Aram. Aram is present day Syria. The people of Israel and the people of Syria did not get along any better then than they do now. “War was a way of life at that time.” As it is now. In the Middle East and throughout the world.

Naaman is an important man in his own nation and society. But he’s sick. A young girl from Israel suggests that Aram might find healing in Israel. She’s a girl. A captive slave. From an enemy nation. Suggesting that an enemy prophet of a foreign God might heal Naaman. Remarkably, Naaman is willing to pursue her suggestion.

He goes to his king. The king of Aram sees a political opportunity in the situation. He appears to have no interest in Naaman’s health. The king of Israel is in a no-win situation as the weaker political leader. He’s consumed by political angst. A contemporary story….

Elisha, the prophet of the Lord, apparently seizes upon this situation as an opportunity for religious one upmanship. “The Syrians may have defeated us in war,” he implies, “but I’ll show them there’s a real prophet in Israel.” He doesn’t seem at all concerned about Naaman either. Through a servant Elisha asks Naaman to wash seven times in the Jordan. Naaman’s ego is severely bruised is reluctant, but ultimately his own servant persuades him. He washes in the Jordan and is made whole.

In this story leprosy is a symbol. It is a physical illness, yes. But it also signifies sickness of the soul, the brokenness of a human spirit. To seek healing is to seek wholeness, cure of the soul as well as the body.

There’s a lot going on in this story.

There are oversized egos all over the place, especially among political leaders. It is about a world at war, where enmity between peoples is the context for all that happens. As I said, it’s a contemporary story.

People have mixed motives. The need to maintain social standing or prominence motivates the kings and even Elisha. Naaman struggles with his desire for cure and the complexities of seeking that cure among an enemy people. The maid’s motives seem pure. She is an extension of God’s unqualified desire and ability to heal. And that is certainly one very important lesson in this passage…. God’s unqualified desire and ability to heal, even in the midst of the complex and messy human sitution.

But the message that I hear in this story, at least as I read it now, is an affirmation of the human ability to overcome immense difficulty in our striving for God’s healing. This story begins with Naaman’s desire for healing. And that’s where the story begins for us. The story begins with a desire, a longing for wholeness and healing. The journey from desire for healing to fulfillment was very difficult for Naaman. It was hard. He had to overcome a lot in his world and within himself. But he made it. And if Naaman can do it, so can we.

Maybe Naaman’s journey does not seem so hard to us. But think first what he must have had to overcome within in himself before he accept the words of the maid—an enemy slave. His journey to Elisha may have been facilitated by his power, but once he got there, what Elisha asks him to do is very difficult. Why? What does he have to lose? Why is this so hard? It may seem like there’s nothing to it, as his servant points out, just a dip in the Jordan. But Naaman had to risk a lot of who he was to take that bath in the Jordan.

Elisha tells him to wash seven times in the Jordan and he will be made whole.  One writer describes why this might be a difficult decision for Naaman.

“If Elisha is right, then this Syrian military commander, who has led his troops into both pitched battles and smaller raids against Israel, will have to acknowledge that his healing could come in Israel, but not in Aram. While he was willing to allow that Israel might have a prophet connected to God like no other, admitting that Israel was uniquely blessed by God was a lot to ask.

At the same time, if Elisha is wrong, then this military leader will be publicly embarrassed by abasing himself in a ritual anyone could have known would never work…. Everyone knows that river water cannot wash away leprosy. If it could, Naaman would not have traveled to see the man of God. Elisha’s simple request requires great risk. Naaman could have traveled all this distance to be made a fool.”

It’s complicated. It’s hard. He’s risking his reputation, his self-image, much that he has worked for in his life. But he wants to be cured. He yearns to be made whole.
 
And God offers wholeness. God offers wholeness. But it doesn’t just land in our lap. We have to seek it. Naaman had to seek God’s healing and wholeness in enemy territory at considerable personal risk. The journey to wholeness and healing takes work. It can be hard. But it is never too hard. Do you want wholeness? We, as human beings, do have the strength and courage and guidance we need to come to the place where we can receive God’s healing. Naaman teaches us that. The journey may be hard, but it is never too hard.

In today’s collect we pray: O God, the strength of all who put their trust in you. It’s a matter of putting our trust in God. Getting to that place where we can truly put our trust in God.

Probably everyone here would acknowledge God’s desire and ability to heal. But we want God to come to us on our own terms. We would just as well stay put and have God come to us. And we’d like God to come to us within our own social group, keeping a low profile, and at a time convenient to our busy schedules.

Naaman would undoubtedly have preferred that, too. But he made the difficult journey to the place where he could accept God’s healing.

It can be hard to whole-heartedly trust God today. We life in a word, as did Naaman, where everybody is divided up. Group loyalties are hard strong and the boundaries that divide us are hard to cross. What if God’s healing is to be found in a group other than your own?

We also live in a world that often labels it weak or fooling to trust in God. Can you risk your reputation or self-image to place your trust in God? Naaman did.

Do you seek the healing and wholeness that God offers? That’s what matters. That’s all that matters. If you do yearn for your soul to be healed and made whole: Do not say to yourself… it is too hard… or God is too far away… or my life is too complicated to put my full trust in God… The journey to wholeness may be hard, but it is never too hard. If Naaman made it, so can we.

We don’t name Old Testament figures as saints. We study and admire them but do not name them saints. But I think of Naaman, the Syrian, as a saint. For me, he is an encouraging example of godly living. He is a witness to who we can be and what we, as human beings, can do.

God offers us healing and wholeness. And by God’s grace, we do have the strength and ability we need to make our own journeys to God, the strength of all who put their trust in him.

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany

Wait Upon the Lord
Isaiah 40:21-31
1 Corinthians 9:16-23

Just listening to today’s reading from First Corinthians makes me tired. Paul being all things to all people. To the Jews I became Jew… To one outside the law I became as one outside the law… To the weak I became weak. There is a very important message and a challenge to us in the content of this reading. How much would we be willing to change, say, just about our worship in order to share the blessing of the Gospel with others?

But in addition to that challenge, as I consider this passage this year I’m struck mostly by Paul’s breathless activity, the frenetic intensity of all that he does. We know from elsewhere in Scripture that he was tireless in his travels throughout the Mediterranean. In this morning’s reading he is transforming himself moment to moment to engage others with the Gospel. He was intense and driven as an evangelist and apostle.

Some have suggested he had a hyperactivity disorder. That’s a cheap shot, although it usually gets a grin. Or we could say he is just one of those sorts of high energy people and leave it at that. And since we are not one of those sorts of people we are excused from any similar energetic dedication to the gospel.

But wouldn’t you like to have that sort of passion? Isn’t there at least a part of you that envies that sort of energy? Both for living life in general and for living a life full of faith? I would like to have at least some of that enthusiasm for the Gospel.

The propers for this day—the collect and Scripture readings appointed as a group for this day—invite us to hold the passages from Isaiah and First Corinthians next to one another.

The Isaiah reading begins by describing God—the energy and power that is God’s. God, who creates all that is. God, who destroys everyone who claims to triumph through human power. God, who commands the very stars of heaven. God, who will never faint or grow weak.

And then Isaiah turns to speaking about people: “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Those who wait for the Lord shall be given the Lord’s power. Maybe that’s Paul’s secret.

A little background on this passage from Isaiah. This is from that portion of Isaiah often informally called “Second Isaiah.” The book in the Bible that we call Isaiah was written by several different authors at different times. Second Isaiah, which begins at chapter 40, wrote in the late 6th c. BC. At that time the standing and strength of the people of God had been shattered. The people have been defeated and dispersed, many were in exile in Babylon. The people were fearful of their future and uncertain of God’s presence and care.

To these people, the prophet Isaiah says: Wait for the Lord. The King James translated it differently, and I prefer this translation. The King James does not say, “wait for the Lord,” it says, “wait UPON the Lord.” As a servant might wait upon a master. Attentive and vigilant. It’s not a passive fatalism. It’s not about sitting back and waiting. It’s about maintaining attention and focus. Eyes fixed unservingly. Anticipating the master’s word or gesture.

I think also of a well-trained dog waiting upon a command. Those laser eyes focused on you, the dog almost trembling with anticipation. Please, please, please tell me what I get to do next. Sit? Fetch? Come? Wait upon the Lord.

One commentator, reflecting on this passage wrote: “Great views of God are essential to call forth great hopes and great energies.” Viewing God greatly, focusing on God with great attention, calls forth great hopes and great energies.

Wait upon the Lord. Look to God. Look away from anxieties and fears. Look away from the troubles and demands of the world. Do not be districted by anything of this world. Lift up your eyes and keep your focus upon the Lord, the Creator of all.

The people to whom Second Isaiah wrote lived in terrible times, especially for the people of God. Paul lived in a world very challenging for new Christians. We live in times that certainly challenge our faith and try us in many ways.

So Isaiah speaks to us: wait upon the Lord. Again, this is not helplessly sitting back and waiting for God to come and fix everything. It is an intense and focused vision on God alone. We find that focus in the places you would expect—worship, prayer, Scripture. Wait upon the Lord with unwavering attention.

Those who wait upon the Lord, like Paul, will be given God’s own power and energy in their lives. They will mount up like eagles. They will never grow weary or faint. They will live faithfully with purpose, energy and hope.

The Third Sunday after the Epiphany

Free Spirits
Psalm 62:6-14
Mark 1:14-20

Last week the Old Testament reading included a call story—the story of God’s call to Samuel. God called Samuel my name to a life of prophetic proclamation. Today, particularly in the Gospel reading, we hear some more call stories. Jesus calls Simon, Andrew, James and John to follow him. And they do.

These are familiar stories. Simon and Andrew, James and John, fishing on the Sea of Gallilee. Familiar as these stories are, they have always gnawed at me. There had to have been more going on, of course, than Mark’s bare-boned telling of the story. But it seems so incredible that they would respond so quickly and radically. Some stranger walks by and says, “follow me.” And immediately they do without any apparent reservation.

Jesus was a stranger to them!

Remember we’re still in the first chapter of Mark. Years before Peter would recognize and confess Jesus as the Messiah. We have no evidence that Simon, Andrew, James or John had any idea who called to them. I’ve often imagined that there had to be something irresistibly compelling about Jesus. But the Gospel writers don’t mention anything special. Mark tells us only that he was preaching repentance. A stranger strolls passed preaching a call to repentance. I would find that pretty easy to resist.

Or maybe word had spread throughout Galilee… Maybe Jesus’ reputation had preceded him and they had heard of his grace a power. Maybe. Although again we have no evidence. All we know is that out of the blue Jesus said “follow me” and they did. It’s incredible.

They left everything behind… family, the social network of the village, their place in the community, their only means of supporting themselves, their whole identities, really. It’s hard to believe. In that context how could Jesus possibly have presented an attractive option? How could following Jesus have appeared as the preferred path?

Now I can imagine some other settings where following Jesus would definitely seem like an attractive choice. It would be one thing if Jesus showed up in the middle of a difficult history test and said, “Oh, let’s blow off the test. Follow me.” That would be tempting. Or if Jesus showed up when you were in the middle of working on your income taxes and said “Put those aside and follow me.” Or if he showed up in the midst of a deadly office Christmas party and said, “Let’s skip this joint and go have some fun.”

If Jesus came offering a means of escape, an opportunity to flee life’s unpleasant burdens. Then the call to follow might sound pretty good.

In a way, that’s exactly what Jesus offers. Freedom.

Jesus calls us to be free spirits. Literally. He does offer us freedom. Escape.

One way to think of Jesus’ call to us is as an invitation to become free spirits. Come, be free spirits. Literally.

Writing about this passage in Mark, William Loader writes “the calling of James and John and Simon and Andrew…function as a protest… against societal structures which simply perpetuate the past and trap people into the service of the status quo and its gods.” False gods imposed by society, or family, or peer groups trap us. We are trapped in the service of false gods.

Jesus says, let’s run away and be free spirits.

Ask yourself: Do you let society or even family determine which gods you worship? False gods like social standing or conformity. Material success. The false god of family reputation or even tradition. The false gods of physical strength or beauty. Do you feel forced to give yourself to the worship of these gods? Or maybe others?

Jesus offers an escape. Freedom. Lose yourself in love and worship of the one true God. For God alone my soul waits, as the psalmist sings.

Come, be a free spirit, Jesus says.

Maybe there’s a small voice in the back of your head saying, “I can’t become a free spirit. That would be irresponsible!” We can’t just abandon the people who depend upon us. It is our responsibility to maintain an ordered society. Surely Jesus doesn’t intend for us to thumb our noses at all responsibility and run off to be free spirited hippies.

I could point out that actually that is pretty much what the disciples did. But I would agree that following Jesus does not imply a selfish indifference to the care of others. Free spirited does not mean self-centered or indifferent to God’s children or God’s creation.

But becoming a free spirit does offer us freedom from the imposed worship of false gods. There is a difference, for example, between a parent who cherishes a child as a gift from God and would do absolutely anything to help that child flourish in the love and wonder of God. In contrast to the parent who worships the competitive gods of family reputation or financial success and maybe even with good intentions forces a child to worship those gods, too.

Remember, Zebedee let his sons go.

Ask yourselves which gods you worship, which gods you really give yourself to. And do you feel bound, or trapped? If you feel bound or trapped, look deeply within and ask why-- false gods bind and trap. False gods bind and trap us in their service. Jesus does not.

Jesus says, hey! I can set your spirit free. That’s a pretty attractive offer any time and place. I will set your spirit free. Come, follow me.

The Second Sunday after the Epiphany

The Call of Samuel

1 Samuel 3:1-20

Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

John1:43-51

The lesson we heard today from the Hebrew Scriptures is usually referred to as “The Call of Samuel.” It’s a wonderful story that almost preaches itself.

Just to review: The young boy Samuel and his mentor Eli are working in the Temple. It is their job to ensure that the rituals and worship of the Lord in the Temple are maintained. It’s night. Both have gone to bed. Samuel hears someone call his name and he runs to Eli, but Eli says it wasn’t him. Samuel definitely heard someone call his name. They both go back to bed. The same thing happens two more times before Eli begins to wonder at what might be going on. Following Eli’s advice, the next time Samuel hears his name he recognizes that it is God who is calling, and he stops to listen.

There are a number of points to note in this story.

First, even people in the professional religion business did not immediately recognize God’s voice. They heard it, but thought it was someone else. And that’s something to highlight. They heard God’s voice… they clearly heard it, but thought it was someone else.

We should also note that God persisted. God called again and again and again and again, until Samuel recognized him and stopped to listen.

And, finally, God called Samuel by name. God did not post a general notice on Craig’s list: Prophet Wanted. God called Samuel name. God wanted to talk to Samuel, about Samuel’s vocation.

In Samuel’s case, the vocation God called him to was not an easy one. Samuel was called to a lifelong vocation as a prophet, and his first task was to condemn the iniquity of his mentor Eli.

The adult Christian Education class this week asks the question: What is the purpose of your life? In the class, the context is a study of God as creator. God doesn’t create casually or capriciously. God creates for a purpose. What purpose were you, as an individual, created for?

The general answer is to fulfill God’s call for you. Your personal call.

God knows us individually. We are baptized by name. We do not baptize Christian number 4 trillion thirty seven. You are sealed and marked as Christ’s own forever, by name. The psalm appointed for today speaks of how God knows us. Lord you have searched me out and known me. You know my sitting down and my rising up. Lord, you know me. This psalm is a source of great strength and comfort to many people. In times of need or longing, it is nice to know that God knows and cares for us individually, that God responds to our personal, individual needs.

The Gospel also highlights how God knows us. Jesus knew Nathanael, even though they had not yet met in the flesh.

God knows us individually. This is a comfort when we think of God responding to our individual needs. But it also means that God calls each of us to our own individual vocations.

God called Samuel by name.

And God calls us individually by name. Sometimes to grand life vocations. Samuel’s call was to a lifelong vocation of prophetic witness. Here in the U.S., we remember the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. this weekend. He, too, was called to an all-consuming life of prophetic witness on behalf of civil rights. Jesus called the disciples call to leave behind everything else to fulfill their calls to discipleship.

God’s calls are often not easy to follow—witness Samuel and Dr. King. Scripture is full of stories of people who answered reluctantly when God called them by name, feeling unwilling or unable to respond to God’s call.

But when God calls us by name, it is not always to a grand and challenging life vocation. Sometimes God calls us to smaller tasks of everyday life or life within the church. Think about the stories in the Gospels. On several occasions a particular individual was called to host a dinner or offer hospitality. There’s the young lad who shared his lunch. Just one day, one lunch, a loaf and a few fish. Someone was called to offer his colt when Jesus needed it to ride into Jerusalem. We are called, as individuals, to everyday tasks like these, too.

We hear this particular Old Testament story and this Gospel story during Epiphany because Samuel and Nathanael had epiphanies. Within the context of these stories, they recognized that it was God who was speaking to them. The voice Samuel heard in the night calling him by name was God’s voice. The person Nathanael saw across the way was Jesus, Son of the living God. Voices, people that were there, a part of their lives. Samuel and Nathanael came to recognize God’s presence, God’s voice with them.

Similar Epiphanies await us all.

God knows you personally and calls you by name. You have a roll to fulfill, a call to respond to as part of God’s action in the world. Maybe it’s a grand vocation or maybe it’s an occasional task in the midst of daily life.

Remember Samuel’s story. God will call you by name… persistently until you stop to listen. God may call while you’re trying to sleep, or while you’re just standing under a fig tree, or while you’re at soccer practice with your kids, or this Sunday at coffee hour. Sometimes God speaks directly; sometimes through other people.

So consider…. Everytime you hear your name… Every time you are directly spoken to… Consider the possibility that God is speaking to you. Consider that this might be an epiphany moment for you. A time for you to recognize that it is God’s voice, God’s presence, with you in your life. It’s not always easy to tell at first—remember Samuel and Eli—but God will persist until you have your epiphany.

And when that epiphany comes and you say with awe: Oh, my God. Oh, my God. It is you. When you have that epiphany of recognition, remember Samuel and follow his example. Stop whatever else you’re doing and say: Speak to me, Lord, for your servant is listening.