The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost - August 23

Sure and Certain Means
John 6:56-69

As some of you are aware, each week we have children’s worship bulletins available along with the regular service leaflets. There are no age restrictions! Anyone can pick one up if you wish. They contain activities meant to illustrate or reinforce the Gospel reading for the day. This week’s particularly caught my attention. It includes one of those familiar activities (that I associate with waiting in the dentist’s office as a child) where you are asked to find the differences between two similar pictures.

Some of the differences are the sort of thing you expect in this activity. The sun is in a different place; Jesus is looking left in one picture, right in the other; Jesus’ and the disciples’ belts are different. But what caught my eye is that there are a lot fewer disciples in the second picture. Quite a few of the disciples shown in the first picture are totally missing in the second. This activity does more than illustrate a snapshot from today’s Gospel reading. It tells the story. In today’s reading from John there are fewer disciples in the picture at the end of the story than there were at the beginning.

If I had asked you before church today if there were any Gospel stories where people turn away from Jesus, would you have remembered this story? We think of all of the stories that describe thousands of people being drawn to Jesus, attracted by his words and ministry. But here people walk away.

A couple of observations. I’ll come back to why they walked away and what they missed. But first, as a bit of an aside, this story reminds us to avoid the temptation of looking wistfully to the past as a time when faith was stronger and people more godly… in contrast to the “godless desolation” of our present time. In this story, people who were actually in the presence of Jesus (!) walked away.

Why? There is one clue in John’s Gospel. They say to Jesus: Your words are hard to understand and accept. This teaching is difficult. We don’t like what you’re saying! It’s Jesus’ teaching about sharing his own Body and Blood that offends them. These days it might be something else… Jesus’ teaching to love your enemies…. Or welcome the outsider… We don’t like what you’re saying.

And we have other things we’d rather be doing. As I think about it, following Jesus pretty much always means giving something else up. Disciples in his day had walked away from family, home, work to literally follow Jesus. But it is always a choice to follow Jesus rather than do something else. And people often choose other things they’d rather be doing than following Jesus.

And finally, I can’t really speak for the disciples in today’s reading, but these days I often hear folks turn away from Jesus because he hasn’t answered their every prayer… he hasn’t fulfilled their need, done everything they asked of him. Why bother to follow? So Jesus turns to Peter and the twelve and asks: Do you also wish to go away?

Peter doesn’t quite answer the question that Jesus asks. If he had, he might have said: Yes, Jesus there are certainly days when I wish to go away. But I don’t, because BEING IN THE PRESENCE OF JESUS IS ALWAYS BETTER THAN BEING AWAY FROM HIM.

It’s about being wish Jesus. About sharing life with Jesus. Without Jesus life is empty. Full of activities, maybe, but empty. Little better than death. Being a disciple can be challenging, confusing, and difficult but it is always better than the nothing-ness of life without Jesus.

For Peter and the twelve, even when Jesus’ teaching was difficult to understand or follow, it was still always better to be with Jesus.

We’ve been in the 6th chapter of John for several weeks. This chapter encourages us to reflect on what we, in the church, have come to know as Holy Communion. This week I’ve taken one more step back and want to review the sacraments in general. The Episcopal Church is a sacramental church. For those of us who gather and worship in the Episcopal Church the sacraments are a part of our common life.

And, in the words of the Prayer Book, the Sacraments are “sure and certain” ways to find Jesus, to be in Jesus presence. Sure AND certain. No qualifications, no exceptions. The sacraments are sure and certain ways for us to be with Jesus.

This is not to say that Jesus is not present and active in other parts of our lives, in our civic lives, our relationships, in nature. But we do not always connect with him there. In the sacraments we may be sure that we will find Jesus.

It was interesting for me to be reminded, as I reviewed the sacraments this week, that the early Christians experienced the sacraments before they defined them. The church didn’t create the sacraments; the church discovered that it had been given the sacraments. The definition was shaped by experience.

When the church talks about sacraments, and Holy Communion is the one we encounter most regularly, we talk about them as being two things: Sign (or symbol) and instrument. The bread and wine and the ritual of Holy Communion are signs or symbols that draw to mind for us Jesus’ last supper and his sacrifice for us. But participating in the sacrament is also the means or the instrument to actually convey Jesus’ presence or God’s grace to us. They point to God; but they also convey God’s grace.

When we participate. Sacraments aren’t something that can be watched or read about. They are participated in.

So the Catechism defines sacraments as “outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as sure and certain means by which we receive that grace.” And the second part of that definition is just as important as the first part. Given by Christ. Sure and certain means by which we receive grace.

The Catechism also defines grace: Grace is God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved; by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our will.”

Which seems to me to be pretty much what the presence of Jesus did for the disciples. And what the presence of Jesus does for us when, by grace, it comes to us through the sacraments.

No matter what’s going on in your life, in the church, in the world around you. No matter what. Participating in Holy Communion is a sure and certain way to be in the presence of Jesus. And Jesus’ presence brings renewal, hope, life, peace, perseverance. All those things that the world cannot give. Given to us by God’s grace through the sacraments.

The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost - August 16

Communion
John 6:51-58

The Episcopal Church uses the Revised Common Lectionary, a three-year lectionary. The Scripture readings that are prescribed for Sunday mornings follow a three-year cycle. Each year the Gospel readings focus on one of the three synoptic Gospels: Matthew, Mark and Luke. This is Mark’s year. But Mark’s Gospel is short. So in the middle of the summer we take a break from Mark and read from the 6th chapter of John. (We also always read John during Easter season.)

The sixth chapter of John is often called “The Bread of Life” chapter. It includes the familiar language where Jesus says, “I am the bread of life.” In this morning’s passage, Jesus describes his flesh as true food and his blood as true drink.

This is the portion of John’s Gospel that we look to to reflect on what we have come to know and experience as Holy Communion. It’s an interesting contrast and complement to what we find in the synoptic Gospels. The “words of institution” that we hear each Sunday as part of the great Eucharistic prayer come from the account of the Last Supper in the synoptic Gospels. Jesus breaks bread and shares the cup and says, “Do this in remembrance of me.”

John’s Gospel includes an account of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples but the focus is on the foot washing. There is no mention of bread or cup. But Jesus talks a lot about eating his flesh and drinking his blood in this sixth chapter of John. The language is stark. You can imagine why his followers were startled.

As we look at this chapter with respect to Communion, it’s worth noting that it takes place in the middle of Jesus’ life and ministry. It is not a memorial. Not something to do “in remembrance of me” after I’m gone. More something to do “with me” now. Eat. Jesus says. Eat. And receive eternal life.

One commentator said that the main temptation for preachers this Sunday will be to try to EXPLAIN the Eucharist. But that is a temptation to be avoided. This is not the time to try to help people understand consubstantiation, or transubstantiation. Or memorialism…

His eagerness is not that they understand how or why it works, just that they EAT. He offers to share himself with them. Just eat.

Thinking about this reminded me of something written by Gretchen Wolff Pritchard, an author someone who has been very active in children’s Christian formation in the Episcopal Church. When I was growing up, children weren’t “admitted” to Communion in the Episcopal Church until after Confirmation. (Have you ever considered how weird that language is!?)

In her book, Offering the Gospel to Children, Pritchard writes:

Imagine if, until your child was six, you never kissed her, but only let her watch older people kissing each other. Then when she had learned to read and write, (and incidentally, had already passed the age when her imagination was most eager to grasp non-verbal expression and make it a part of her deepest self) suppose you sat her down with a special curriculum entitled “Kisses and hugs: signs of love.” She would color pictures of people hugging and kissing and read exemplary stories about families and answer questions about why we choose this way to express our love. Finally, on a special day when you were sure she understood enough about hugging and kissing to be truly “ready” you would hug and kiss her for the very first time. She would wear a new party dress, and Grandma would come to lunch and bring a present, and she would feel so proud and special.

 

Or would she?

Sacramental actions work directly on our emotions and imaginations: the intellect is only a supplement, important in its own turn for full integration of the experience, but secondary in its contribution to our understanding. 

My main point today is not to talk about children receiving Communion (although I do agree with Pritchard). It is to encourage adults to EXPERIENCE communion with childlike imagination. Don’t worry about what it means or how it happens or which description of the sacramental transformation of bread to body is right. Approach Communion as an experience. Open your emotions and imagination to that experience. The experience of Jesus sharing himself with us. Right now. In this life.

As you undoubtedly know it is common in many strands of Christianity to speak of whether or not someone has “accepted Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior.” It’s often asked in a challenging tone of voice. Have YOU accepted Jesus Christ as your PERSONAL Lord and Savior? The focus of that question is on the act, the choice, to bring Jesus into your life. Most Episcopalians are uncomfortable with such brazen evangelicalism… but there are several ways we might respond.

One is to recognize and say that every time we willfully and joyfully receive communion… we quite literally accept Jesus into our bodies and into our lives. We choose, we act, to receive Jesus into our lives. We consume the real presence of Jesus.

 “Real presence” is a good Episcopal term. But do we mean it? In Communion we consume the real presence of Christ.

Jesus promises that when we eat his body and drink his blood we will receive life. We will receive eternal life. We will share in his eternal life. And I will raise them up on the last day, he says in today’s Gospel, but that seems almost an afterthought. When Jesus offers himself, he offers his life, eternal life, shared with ours. The experience of Holy Communion is taking Jesus into our lives.

As one of the old prayers in the Prayer Book says, “Grant us gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of… Jesus Christ and to drink the blood, that we may evermore dwell in him and he in us.”

Martin Copenhaver is a preacher and professor from the UCC tradition. In a published sermon on this morning’s Gospel, he writes:

So what's going on here? Well, for one, the imagery employed by Jesus in this passage forces a kind of "in-your-face" confrontation with the incarnation. Gone are the abstract, almost disembodied terms about "abiding" in him that Jesus used earlier. Now he uses such starkly corporeal images that we cannot escape the implications of incarnation. Jesus was not a disembodied spirit. To encounter Jesus is, in part, to encounter the flesh and blood of him. The startling images he uses are meant to get our attention in that way.

In this passage, however, language is pressed to its limits to express the indissoluble participation of one life in another. For those who receive Jesus, his life clings to their bones and courses through their veins. He can no more be taken from a believer's life than last Tuesday's breakfast can be plucked from one's body. It is the ultimate communion--the coming together, the union of the Savior and the saved.

The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 9) - July 5

The Church
Mark 6:1-13

I’ve been thinking about two church events that have just taken place. They are very different, but they are both put on by the church. Yesterday, we did our annual Fourth of July Ice Cream Social. And on Friday General Convention came to a close after ten days of work. That’s the every-three-years legislative meeting of the national Episcopal Church.

Thinking about these two different events prompted me to think, again, about what the church really is. How do we describe or define the church?

First, the phrase that we often use, “Go to church” is really sort of strange. Where do you “go to church,” someone will ask. But the church is not a place, of course. “A” church building is not “the” church. Nor is the church really something that we “belong to.”

The church is who we are and what we do.

The church is described in several ways in the Book of Common Prayer. In the catechism it is described as the “Community of the New Covenant.” A community, people, a group of people, united and identified by baptism into the new covenant of Jesus Christ. One of the prayers in the Prayer Book calls the church that “wonderful and sacred mystery.” (Bishop Lee often adds… that wonderful, sacred and maddening mystery!) Us, full of wonder and sacredness.

I want to offer another way to think about who we are as the church. We are people who see and recognize God in our lives and in the world around us. We see and recognize God and then live in response to that awareness.

One of things I learned in seminary is that virtually any way we talk about the Trinity is heresy. And certainly so if we split the Trinity up into three distinct persons with different functions. Nevertheless….

As the church we are people who see and recognize God. We see and recognize Jesus, the Son of God, present in other people.

As the church we are people who see and recognize God, the Holy Spirit within ourselves.

As the church we are people who see and recognize God, the Father, Creator, present throughout creation.

And seeing and recognized God makes a difference! It has a huge impact on what we say and do, the choices we make, in virtually every circumstance of our lives.

The presence of God should lead us to words and actions of reverence and praise. We act and react with reverence and praise before the presence of God in others, in ourselves, and in creation.

Putting on the ice cream social is a lot of work. A lot of people help out, but it’s a lot of work if you think about it just to offer a couple of hours of ice cream and hot dogs. Why do we do it? We talk about offering it as a gift to the community, as an act of hospitality. And it is. But, a little deeper, I think it’s about seeing and recognizing the presence of Christ in our neighbors. The living presence of Christ in the young children enjoying the balloon twisters. Seeing and recognizing the presence of Christ in some of the older folks from the neighborhood for whom this was probably their only social event of the month or even the summer. Christ is present in our neighbors. We respond with reverence and praise.

Then there’s General Convention. As you might imagine, so not my idea of fun! Although there are plenty of folks who love it. A ten day legislative meeting with 1700 delegates (8,000 – 10,000 participants). In past years I’ve heard it described as the largest legislative meeting in the United States. Just think of the logistical minutiae and legislative haggling. With human foibles and sin (pride, fear) on full display. But we do General Convention or Diocesan Convention or even vestry meetings because we recognize the presence of God in the world and God’s presence matters to us. A lot. Seeing and recognizing the presence of God around us compels us to discern and take seriously how we treat one another, how we spend our money, the particular words we use to pray.

We see and recognize Jesus in others. And so treat them with reverence and praise. Sometimes it seems it is hardest to see Jesus living and present in those closest to us. Even Jesus encountered that in today’s Gospel story. His family and the people of his village could not see God’s power in him, in Jesus! It’s hard to see Jesus in the people closest to us, but he is there. It can also be hard to see Jesus in those people who are most different or most distant from us. We do better with the middle ground. But Jesus is present even in people who are very different from us. And worthy of reverence and praise.

We see and recognize the divine presence of the Holy Spirit within us. There is a prayer in the Prayer Book where we say that God has made our bodies the temple of his presence. So our bodies are worthy of reverence. We may not like to hear it, but that means we should be good stewards of our bodies. Not just because it’s good for us, but because God is there! God is within us. We are showing reverence to God. We should also be mindful that our voices, our hands, our feet may be the vehicles by which others become aware of God’s presence.

Finally, and probably often the easiest for many of us, we see and recognize God the creator present and filling creation. And our actions are those of praise and wonder and joy at the holiness of growing plants, the awesomeness of the night sky, the wondrous diversity of life. And we are called to stewardship of creation. Because God’s very presence is within creation.

We are the church, and what we do is what the church does. We are people who recognize and take very seriously the presence of God in the world. Everywhere. Everyone. In every thing. That awareness should lead us to reverence and praise in everything we say and do.

The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 8) - June 28

Do Not Be Afraid
 Mark 5:21-43

I didn’t intentionally set out to makes this week’s sermon dovetail with last week’s, but it worked out that way. Both are about what it means to have Jesus with us. Last week one of my points was that when Jesus is with us, the very power of God can work through us. God’s power, working in us, can do more than can humanly imagine even when we face pervasive sin and social challenges in the world around us.

This week I’m going to talk about another outcome of Jesus’ presence with us. Starting with a discussion of fear. Jesus mentions fear in both of the Gospel readings, the one appointed for last Sunday and today’s. Last week Jesus and the disciples were in a small boat crossing the Sea of Galilee when a perilous storm came up, threatening to swamp the boat. Jesus was asleep on a cushion in stern. When the disciples wake Jesus up, he says: “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

This week we have the two healing stories. The healing of the woman with hemorrhages and the healing or raising of Jairus’ daughter. Towards the end of today’s lesson when Jesus finally gets to Jairus’ house and encounters people who fear that the young girl is dead, Jesus says: “Do not fear; only believe.”

This coupling of fear and faith in Jesus’ words has a tendency, I think, to encourage us towards an incorrect interpretation of Jesus’ statements. It’s easy to interpret these passages something like this: If only we have enough faith, then fearful things won’t happen to us. Or, if we have the right faith, then we will be spared fearsome things in our lives. And, then the other side of that interpretation is: when fearful things do happen (like storms or illness) it’s because we don’t have the right quantity or quality of faith.

This sort of interpretation is seductive, too, because so much of our life does work that way. If I just train harder, I’ll win more races. If I just work harder, I’ll be more financially secure. If I do more whatever, I’ll be happier… If I just “faith harder” life will be better.

Except faith doesn’t work that way.

And there are several challenges with this sort of interpretation. First, it’s not clear exactly what specific faith or belief Jesus might be calling for.

Second, the Scripture passages themselves don’t support this interpretation. Yes, Jesus stills the storm and raises Jairus’ daughter. But there is absolutely no evidence in the stories that it is because of some improvement in the quantity or quality of anyone’s faith. It is not as though the disciples manage to acquire some extra or better portion of faith and, as a result, Jesus removes the danger of the storm. It doesn’t happen that way. And when Jesus tells the people in Jairus’ house, “Do not fear; only believe,” they laugh at him.

The experience of Christians throughout history, from the time of the disciples up to today, has not shown that having faith means you will not encounter perilous or fearful things. Just ask the martyrs, for example. There has never been a correlation between quality or quantity of faith and an absence of fearsome events.

Faith does not inoculate us from fearful things. Faith is not a vaccine against frightening or perilous occurrences.

But faith can be an antidote to fear in the face of fearful things. Faith does calm and quiet fear in the face of dangerous or threatening things.

The reassurance that Jesus is offering is this: Do not be afraid, he says, I am with you. Do not be afraid because I am with you.

The particular faith that Jesus is encouraging us to remember is that Jesus actually is what we have being saying since Christmas… that he is Emmanuel. God. With. Us. The peace and comfort and love of God. With. Us. Do not be afraid; I am with you.

So look for the sweet and holy presence of Jesus in the fearful places of your life. He is there. With you. Bringing the peace and comfort and love of God to be with you no matter what.

Last week I stressed that Jesus’ power working through us enables us, beyond our wildest imagination, to change things we can change in the world around us.

This week we are reminded that Jesus’ presence with us brings comfort and peace and stills our fears in the face of things we cannot change in the world around us.

Whenever or wherever you feel frightened, look for the sweet and holy presence of Jesus with you. He is there. Bringing the peace and comfort and love of God.

Remember the well-known passage from Romans: Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. That’s what Jesus shows us in these stories. NO THING can separate us from God. I am with you. Do not be afraid. And it doesn’t depend upon the quantity or quality of your faith. It’s about the presence of Jesus. He’s there. Just hang on. Hang on to Jesus.

The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 7) - June 21

Get in the Boat
Mark 4:35-41

In the midst of all of the news coverage and abundant commentary on the shooting in Mother Emanuel church in Charleston this week, I came across an article on a different subject. It was published in the Christian Science Monitor online, one of my news sources. (The article is HERE.)

Sixth extinction: Human beings are currently causing the greatest mass extinction of species since the extinction of the dinosaurs 65 million years ago, says a new study.

The activities precipitating the collapse of many species and ecosystems are related to human [activity].

According to the researchers, if the currently elevated extinction pace persists, humanity will soon (in as little as three human lifetimes) be deprived of many biodiversity benefits. This means that the Earth's ecosystem is likely to lose much of its ability to provide important life-support systems, from pollinating crops to cleaning and recirculating air and water.

There are parallels, I think between the events that lie behind both of these stories. The horrific shooting in Charleston and the rapid increase in species extinction and loss of biodiversity. Both are evidence of deep, systemic human sin.

It is now very clear that racial hatred was what motivated the alleged shooter in Charleston. As one writer said, however, his was an extreme case, but not a unique one. Racism is not limited to one person or one state. Racism is a pervasive, systemic, social, institutional human sin, one of many that belittles the humanity of those who are different, and leads inevitably to the destruction of human life.

The loss of species diversity may not seem in the same class. And yet, at the same time that our hearts break for the lives lost in Charleston, martyred as they gathered to study God’s Word, and as we pray that God will comfort all who mourn, we must also remember the broad context of racism that is laid bare by this shooting.

And in the big picture racism seems very similar to the sort of sin that is causing widespread environmental degradation of the earth. Loss of species diversity is the result of big, pervasive, systemic human sin by which most of us are, through selfishness or indifference, killing not only, say, the spindly pine tree or the black footed ferret, but other human beings, including our own descendents. The article continues

Scientists in the new extinction study also warn that humans could be among the threatened species because in the aftermath of past mass extinctions, the ecosystem took hundreds of thousands to millions of years to rediversify. "If it is allowed to continue, life would take many millions of years to recover and our species itself would likely disappear early on…"

These are big, systemic problems. For me, the bigness makes them feel overwhelming, too big to even attempt to tackle. The bigness, also, I think enables us to live in denial of our individual responsibility and to ignore the consequences of our individual actions. It was not my racism that killed those people. It is not my indifference that is killing the earth.

Except that it is.

So what are we to do? And I don’t have a specific answer for myself or for you this morning. Certainly each of us can acknowledge and work on our individual participation or complicity in the sins of racism and selfish resource consumption. I know that racism is a part of me despite my fervent wish that it weren’t. We can work on our individual actions. But as followers of Christ I think we are called to do more. As disciples of Christ we must be active in efforts to address and change the larger systemic, social human issues… We cannot be passive; we must offer ourselves to these efforts.

Maybe there’s a connection between all of this and today’s Gospel.

It’s a story. Not a parable or a teaching, but a story. A story about discipleship. A story that illustrates what it is like to be a disciple of Jesus. Mark, who rarely uses any extra words in his Gospel, provides all sorts of interesting, unessential detail in the telling of this story. That detail makes it a vivid story. At the end of a long day Jesus calls the disciples to come with him to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. To leave “their” side, the land of Galilee, and go the “other” side. He went “just as he was,” just as they had known him with them. There were “other boats” as well. The depiction of the storm is vivid… waves crashing over the side of the boat… the boat beginning to founder. Jesus is asleep “in the stern” “on a cushion.”

I was at a meeting of diocesan Deans this week and we discussed this passage. There is the potential for all sorts of interesting sermons to be teased out of those details. Why was Jesus asleep? And in the stern… near the tiller? And who was in the other boats? What does the storm represent? What might the boat be a metaphor for? Interesting points, and I’ve preached that sort of sermon in the past.

But this week I see this passage as a story. A story to be read and pondered in its entirety. A story about discipleship. A vivid story describing the life of discipleship. A story that raises as many questions as it answers.

So. To be a disciple of Jesus is to follow. Without checking your phone first for a weather report. Without knowing exactly where you are going. It turns out they were headed for the land of the Geresenes, not a hospitable destination. And there will be storms. Fierce, dangerous, threatening storms. Does the storm mean something? Mark doesn’t say. It’s just a story. There will be storms. We should not expect the life of discipleship to be storm-free.

In the midst of the storm the disciples cry out to Jesus: “Don’t you care that we are perishing?” Why aren’t you fixing this, Jesus!? Don’t you care? That good people are perishing? That cry is part of the life of a disciple. It always has been. We long for understanding, but do not receive it. They had to wake him up.

After the disciples wake Jesus he quiets the storm. Peace. Why are you afraid?

And, at that point, they realize in some new and profound and awesome way that they are in the presence of God. The peace and the power of God is WITH THEM. To be a disciple of Christ is to have the very peace and power of God with you. With you.

The life of a disciple. Uncertain, often unclear, sometimes frightening, but shared with Christ. Sustained by the peace and power of God. It’s our choice. To follow Jesus as a disciple or stay behind on the familiar shore.

I’m reminded of a passage from Ephesians that the Prayer Book offers as one of the concluding doxologies for Morning or Evening Prayer. Listen to every word.

Glory to God whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine: Glory to him from generation to generation in the church and in Christ Jesus for ever and ever [Ephesians 3:20, 21]. 

Glory to God, whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. But only if we get in the boat.

The Third Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 6) - June 14

The Occasional Mission of the Church
Collect for Proper 6

I’m going to talk about Prayer Books this morning. Books, plural. There is a tie in to the propers for today that I’ll come back to later. As Episcopalians we cherish the Book of Common Prayer. It unites us and helps define us as a denomination. There is much to cherish in the rich and reverent language and in the way that “common” prayer, having the same prayers in common, brings us together as a parish community and with other Episcopalians throughout the country and beyond.

As an aside, since I’m in teaching mode, I’d also like to point out a unique aspect of our Book of Common Prayer. Something different from the books used for corporate prayer in other denominations. The Book of Common Prayer is deliberately designed to serve both as a source for our community, corporate prayers, also as a source of prayers for individual use. You should find the Book of Common Prayer not only in the pews of Episcopal churches, but also on the nightstands of individual Episcopalians.

But the Book of Common Prayer is not the only prayer book available for our use. There are other supplemental prayer books approved and available to us as Episcopalians. Like the BCP, they provide “common” prayers for denominational use and they draw upon the rich language and heritage of our Anglican tradition. One is the Book of Occasional Services. It is a resource for services used occasionally, but not universally in Episcopal parishes.

Just to introduce you to the Book of Occasional Services if you’re not familiar with it: It includes services for Advent and Christmas Lessons and Carols. We use the Christmas one. A service that is only occasionally celebrated but is a wonderful part of our heritage from the Church of England.

Some of the supplemental liturgical rites that we use during Holy Week come from the Book of Occasional Services… the agape meal, the watch in the garden, the foot washing.

All those little mini-liturgies that we do when we dedicate new vestments or a new banner or Sanctus bell… those are not made up by the Rector. They come from the Book of Occasional Services.

The special focus on healing that we use at the Wednesday Eucharist comes from the Book of Occasional Services. As does the service used by Lay Eucharistic Visitors when they take the sacrament out to those unable to be in church so that they can be included in our common worship.

And the service for the Blessing of a Home! How many of you knew we had an Episcopal service for the Blessing of a Home? A service where we pray that God will dwell in the home where we dwell. It’s a wonderful service, yet in almost 25 years of ordained ministry I can count on both hands the number I’ve been asked to do. In that service we pray that God will bless each room in the house… the living room, the dining room, the study, the garden, the bathroom, the bedroom… bless that space and bring blessing to the lives and activities of the people who dwell there. And bless the doorway and the people and the journeys that come and go.

So it was actually the Collect appointed for today that set me off on this train of thought. In that collect we pray that we may proclaim God’s truth with boldness and minister God’s justice with compassion. Unlike many of our collects where we pray that God will comfort or heal or guide us individually, in this collect we pray that we may fulfill the mission of the church. I like the simplicity and the forcefulness of this collect. Supported by God’s love, sustained by God’s grace, we pray that we may proclaim God’s truth with boldness and minister God’s justice with compassion.

I had the opportunity this past week to participate, just as a guest, in a service for the installation of a new rector at a parish in the diocese. Those are fun celebrations. They can, however, sometimes be rather inward looking, focusing primarily on the rector’s ministry within the parish and the internal relationships of the parish community. This service, however, was intentionally outward looking, focusing also on the parish’s ministry outside its walls in the surrounding neighborhood.

As a part of this service we said a Litany for the Mission of the Church (from the Book of Occasional Services.) It’s a litany we pray far too occasionally. Listen to some of the intercessions.

Savior, deliver us. From blind hearts and petty spirits, that refuse to see the need of all humankind for your love.

What is it in our lives blinds us to other peoples’ need for God’s love? What enables us to deny or ignore the profound value of God’s love in other people’s lives? What blindness, what petty selfishness insulates us from the needs of others?

Savior, deliver us. From pride, self-sufficiency and the unwillingness to admit our own need of your compassion.

Often one of the biggest stumbling blocks to seeing others’ need for God’s love is the failure to admit our own need. I can do it. I have everything I need. I am strong enough, smart enough… to manage. I don’t need anyone’s help or compassion.

Savior, deliver us. From ignorance, apathy, and complacency that prevent us from spreading the Gospel.

In my experience and observation, apathy is the big one. We just don’t care enough about the Gospel to spread it… to proclaim God’s truth with boldness as the collect says.

And then the Litany continues with intercessions for the gifts of ministry. And we need to pray to be given those gifts. It is only when we ask God for the gifts of ministry that we can do the ministry to fulfill the mission of the church.

O God, we pray for the gifts of ministry.
Inspire our minds with a vision of your kingdom in this time and place.
Touch our eyes, that we may see your glory in all creation.
Touch our ears, that we may hear from every mouth the hunger for hope and stories of refreshment.
Touch our lips, that we may tell in every tongue and dialect the wonderful works of God.
Touch our hearts, that we may discern the mission to which you call us.
Touch our feet, that we may take your Good News into our neighborhoods, communities, and all parts of the world.
Touch our hands, that we may each accomplish the work you give us to do. 

 O God, we pray for the gifts of ministry that we might fulfill the mission of the church. Amen.

Trinity Sunday - May 31

Salvation
Romans 8:12-17
John 3:1-17

Today is Trinity Sunday. That unique day in the calendar of the church year when we focus on a doctrine. It’s really about God, of course. A doctrine about how we describe God’s indescribability.

One piece I read this week included this statement: The Trinity cannot be analogized. I didn’t know “analogized” was a word, and it may not be, but it’s still a good statement to hang on to. The Trinity cannot be analogized. No analogy is correct. Even your favorite. Some may be a bit better than others. But no analogy of the Trinity is correct. So I’m not going to try.

I’m going to preach on something “easy” instead… John 3:16. It’s a familiar verse: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Very familiar! But not really all that easy to interpret. As often as we hear it, what does it really mean?

I think the most common interpretation goes something like this: If we believe in Jesus, then God will give us eternal life. Although, what exactly are we supposed to believe about Jesus? If we believe somehow that Jesus is our Savior, in return for that belief, God will reward us with life after death.

But what if we only 80% believe? We want to believe, we want to understand, but we’re not always there 100%… Do we still get eternal life? Or only 80%?

 John’s Gospel continues: God sent his Son “in order that the world might be saved through him.” Again, what really do we mean by salvation? And is John’s proclamation reassuring or discouraging? Did God set the bar for the world’s salvation high or low? How does it look to you? All it takes is our belief.

Many people before I have noted that there is another way to look at salvation. To think about salvation as something God offers now, not just later, not just after death.

In this context, Jesus’ life and death are viewed primarily as expressions of God’s love for us. Illustrations. Look, God says, to us THIS is how much I love you. I sent my own Son to bring myself to you, to offer my own presence and love to you.

Paul is talking about this in the passage from Romans we heard today. Paul says: God loves us as much he loves Jesus. “All who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.” Like Jesus, we are children of God.

“When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.” We are in the same relationship with God that Jesus is. Heirs of God’s love.

And it is the Spirit, God’s own Spirit, God’s own power, that leads us to see and understand that God loves us. It doesn’t depend upon our belief.

What would it be like to really live with that awareness of God’s love for us all day every day? That’s salvation!

To live knowing we are God’s beloved children, adopted and chosen and named co-heirs with Christ. To live with the awareness that we are unconditionally loved. That we have immeasurable value in God’s eyes. That no matter what we do; no matter what is done to us; no matter where we go… God always loves us and cares about us. To live in that love is salvation.

David Lose, whom I often find quotable, wonders if “part of the reason so many of our people have a hard time connecting faith to everyday life is simply because we don’t take God’s promises seriously enough.” We don’t take God’s promise to love us unconditionally seriously enough.

This week’s readings reminds us of God’s expansive, comprehensive, unconditional love and acceptance of us as his children, co-heirs with Christ of his love.

What if we could hang onto that promise throughout our daily lives? Really hang onto it. How would it affect our relationships, to enter into those relationships knowing ourselves unconditionally loved by God? How would it impact our conversations with others, those close to us and the casual conversations of every day? How would it affect the decisions we make and how we spend our time if we remembered that nothing can take Gods love from us? Think about it.

Think about it. Would we… Risk more? Care more? Share more? Fear less?

You have immeasurable value in God’s eyes. No matter what, God always loves you and cares about you.