The great vision of St. John the Divine (Revelation 7:9-17):

After this I, John, looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice, saying, Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!”   And all the angels stood around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, singing, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen.”   Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?”

Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?

In Christian history, the word ‘saint’ has had many meanings. Today the traditional church recognizes only special people as ‘saints’: churches are named in their honor (as St. Benedict’s has been named after the great monastic); the saints’ relics are kept on and under the altars of great cathedrals; and prayers of hope are addressed to the saints, because of their great deeds and their miraculous healings.

But to the first Christians, a ‘saint’ was anyone who had dedicated his or her life to God in Christ.

We can see this in Paul’s letters to the new little churches of the Mediterranean world. His earliest letter was written to the Christians in Thessalonika.  Sometime after 50 AD, they sent a messenger to Paul with a troubling question. Some members of their church, faithful followers of Christ, had already died. When Jesus returned in all his glory, what would happen to these beloved who had already died? Were they lost forever?

Writing back to the Thessalonians, Paul painted a beautiful picture, a picture of Christ bringing their loved ones back to them, as he himself returned:

May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints. (1 Thess. 3:13)

(What a different vision this is of Christ’s second coming – not the ‘rapture’ where God separates the saved from the damned, but a great final gathering into the arms of a loving God!)

Ordinary Christians

To Paul, the ‘saints’ were ordinary people, Christians struggling to follow Christ, just like you and me. The hymn we just sung has it right: “the saints of God are just folk like us, and there’s not any reason, no, not the least, whey we shouldn’t be saints too.”

And so Paul writes to the Romans, calling them ‘Saints, God’s beloved in Rome…’
(Romans 1:7)

And to the Corinthians, he says they also are ‘Called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ…’
(1 Corinthians 1:2)

The Ephesians are ‘the saints who are in Ephesus and are faithful in Christ Jesus…’ (Ephesians 1:2)

The Philippians, saints in Christ Jesus who are in Philippi…’
(Philippians 1:1)

The Colossians, ‘saints and faithful brothers and sisters in Christ…’
(Colossians 1:2)

At its root, the word ‘saint’ means to be consecrated, to be set aside for a specific purpose. For Paul, for the writer of Revelation (whose vision depicts the saints clothed in white robes and surrounding the throne of God), for the first Christians, a saint was any faithful Christian who was trying to follow Jesus.

It is this commitment to follow Jesus that makes an ordinary person a consecrated person, a person set aside for God’s service, a saint.

Consecrated = ‘set aside’?

Yet there is something in human beings that wants to set aside the holy, to make it special, to treat it differently than the people and objects of ordinary life. Christians need to remember the underlying meaning of Christ’s presence in our world: the holy is found in the ordinary, and the ordinary can become holy.

The special dish

When Rob and I were married back in the early sixties, we were given some lovely silver dishes by our extended family. On Sunday evenings and at each Thanksgiving and Christmas, those dishes were always on the dinner table.

Somehow, over the years, it became too much work to polish those dishes. A few weeks ago, cleaning out my kitchen cupboards, I found the dishes on a top shelf, perfectly polished and wrapped tightly in Saran wrap. There they were, waiting for a daughter or daughter-in-law to inherit someday – set aside for special use.

But these dishes were not made to sit on a shelf; they were created to serve. They are meant to be used.

And it’s not just silver that shines. Ordinary things, ordinary people – all these can shine with the glory of God’s presence. So the chances are that you have met a saint; the chances are that saints are here in this room today. The chances are that you, too, are a saint.

And those who have gone before us in the faith – they still serve God and are embraced in the communion of saints, as Paul told the Thessalonians so long ago.

In a few moments, the choir will sing a modern version of the ancient hymn, ‘Lux Aeterna’. The Latin words can be translated thus: Eternal light shine upon them, O Lord, in the company of thy saints forever and ever, for thou art merciful. Rest eternal grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.

The music for today’s hymn was composed only three days after September 11, 2001. On that day, more than 3,000 people died. As you think of those who died on that day 13 years ago; and as you remember your own loved ones who died this year, remember Paul’s words of comfort, and the vision of John the Divine:  Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?

To be a Christian, to be a saint, is not to be set high on a shelf for admiration and veneration. On September 11, 2001, the first responders – the firefighters and the police – did not think to ‘stay on the shelf.’ In their commitment to service, they went out to work for people who needed help.

That’s the very definition of a saint.

Sung by St. Benedict’s Singers on All Saints’ Sunday, November 2, 2014

Eternal light shine upon them, O Lord,
in the company of thy saints forever and ever,
for thou art merciful.
Rest eternal grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.

‘Lux Aeterna’ was composed by Braxton Blake on September 14, 2001

RELEASING ENERGY FOR JUSTICE
Preached at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church
September 14, 2014

What would you do?

Picture this: Growing up, you were your father’s favorite child. But your brothers came to hate you, and finally they threw you into a pit, and sold you into slavery. They told your father you were dead. But you survived slavery – and used your wits to be a wise leader of a great nation. Now, after all these years, you meet your brothers again. What would you do?

Joseph said, “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good.” (Genesis 50:30)

Or picture this: You were born into a family of strong, intelligent and hard-working people, but they belonged to the despised underclass in your nation. You grew up to become a passionate advocate for the rights of your people – and the leaders of your nation threw you into a harsh prison for a quarter of a century. Now, after all these years, you are out of prison and you meet your tormenters again. What would you do?

Nelson Mandela said, “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies….  As I walked out the door toward my freedom, I knew that if I did not leave all the anger, hatred and bitterness behind, I would still be in prison.”

Forgiveness opens the door to transformation

In today’s Gospel (Matthew 18:21f), Jesus tells us forgive others no matter how many times they sin against us.

This is not a math lesson (it would be highly improbable for someone to sin against you that many times in one day). This is a spiritual lesson: every time we realize we are still clinging to old hurts, we must forgive – let go – again. Someone may have actually hurt me one time, but I may be offended every time I remember the event, and each time I do, I have a new occasion to practice forgiveness.

Forgiveness shuts the door on yesterday’s wounds. If we cannot forgive, we are in bondage to the past – and when our past becomes our present, we are robbed not only of the present, but of the future.

Forgiveness is not forgetting

Some people think that they will never be able to forgive because they cannot forget what has happened. And there are some things so awful, so traumatic that we will never forget them. But we can always choose to forgive – that is, let go of the ‘re-sentment’, the ‘re-feeling’ of a memory over and over again. If we cannot forget, memories can actually aid us if we learn to use them as reminders to forgive once again.

And when we let go of resentment, we have freed energy for love. Embracing forgiveness – like Jesus, like Joseph, like Nelson – can eventually turn painful memories into redemptive events.

No matter what negative events the world throws at us, we can, with God’s help, find a way to benefit others from what has happened to us. Consider Joseph again, who was able to see that – despite the injustice – being thrown into a pit led him to a place of leadership where he could save his people (and others) from famine. Consider Nelson Mandela again, who because of his forgiveness towards his oppressors, was able to lead his country into a process of healing.

When we decide to walk in forgiveness, we allow God to work through us in powerful ways.

Forgiveness is not getting justice

Forgiveness is difficult not just because of the depth of our feelings, but because of our desire for justice. When we are wronged, we want things to be made ‘right.’ In fact, it often feels like by forgiving, we are removing the offender’s obligation to make things ‘right.’

There is a spiritual debt created by sin, which is why Jesus spoke of debts and debtors in the Lord’s prayer: “Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.” (Matthew 6:9f) Every time we sin against others, we become indebted to them to ‘make things right.’ The debtor, the wrongdoer, always has a moral and spiritual obligation to restore the damage done to another person.

But forgiveness is not accepting life without justice; it is simply releasing our right to collect the debt from the offender. While it is true that we may deserve justice, by exercising forgiveness we are releasing those who hurt us to God, knowing that it is ultimately God’s responsibility to make sure that justice is done.

Jesus tells us forgiveness allows us to participate in the divine nature of God – who not only forgives us our sins, but gives us power to forgive those who hurt us.

Divine love: the energy that enables us to love

God is love, and only God can give us the grace and power to love and forgive others. This is the Gospel, the message Jesus gave Christians to take to the world. And yet today much of the world thinks of religion – including the Christian Church – as judging and judgmental. Could this be because people identified as Christians are often far more interested in being right and righteous than in being compassionate and loving?

Individual Christians, like everyone else on earth, find it hard to forgive – to let go of our desire for justice when we have been hurt.

But let’s be honest: the Church as a whole is also known for judging the beliefs of others as wrong, as heresy, even dangerous. For centuries, much of the Church has said, “If you don’t believe correctly, you won’t get into heaven.” Even today, the judgmental churches may be making the most noise.

And parts of today’s church are known for judging the actions of everyone, inside and outside the church. You can still be cast out of many churches, or refused communion, or denied a leadership position, if you don’t act according to the church’s norms. All churches don’t do this, but the judgmental ones are often most in the news.

The personal practice of forgiveness
– letting go of the desire for justice when we have been hurt –
may be a first step toward becoming less judgmental in many other ways.

Jesus calls us to be his disciples; but following him is hard. He calls every Christian to let go – to let go of our old ways of thinking; to let go of our old ways of living; to let go of our carefully crafted self images; to let go of our plans and dreams for the future. Jesus also calls us to let go of our old hurts and resentments, and to let go of judging others.

And – once more – why is forgiveness so important? Nelson Mandela had the answer; he said, “Forgiveness liberates the soul; it removes fear… That is why it is such a powerful weapon.”

Mandela continued, “I have walked that long road to freedom. I have tried not to falter; I have made missteps along the way. But I have discovered the secret that after climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. I have taken a moment here to rest, to steal a view of the glorious vista that surrounds me, to look back on the distance I have come. But I can only rest for a moment, for with freedom come responsibilities, and I dare not linger, for my long walk is not ended….For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

To live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others:  If we as individuals – following Jesus’ example, following all those inspired by Jesus’ example – learned how to let go of our grudges and resentments, would we be freed from our desire for personal justice, and then freed for discipleship? With God’s help, could we then use more of our personal energy to promote justice in the world around us?

All around us in our society, there are quiet churches just like St. Benedict’s, where Christians are trying daily to practice what we say here, ‘Whoever you are and wherever you are in your faith journey, there is a warm welcome for you here at St. Benedict’s!”

Could we say this a little louder?   As St. Francis of Assisi – another man who understood Jesus’ teaching on forgiveness – said to his own disciples:

“Always preach the Gospel; when necessary, use words.”

As we practice forgiveness, as we practice letting go, as we practice welcoming in the Name of Jesus, we are offering the world a church of disciples, a church that truly tries to follow Jesus Christ, the Lord of compassion, the Lord of forgiveness, and the Lord of love.

Choir Anthem:  “Help Us Accept Each Other”
St. Benedict’s Singers

Help us accept each other as Christ accepted us;
teach us, as sister, brother, each person to embrace.
Be present, Lord, among us and bring us to believe
we are ourselves accepted and meant to love and live.

Teach us, O Lord, your lessons, as in our daily life
we struggle to be human and search for hope and faith.
Teach us to care for people, for all – not just for some,
to love them as we find them or as they may become.

Lord, for today’s encounters with all who are in need,
who hunger for acceptance, for righteousness and bread,
we need new eyes for seeing, new hands for holding on:
renew us with your Spirit; Lord, free us, make us one!

Lyrics by Fred Kaan, music by John Ness Beck

UNTYING THE KNOTS
Preached at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church
September 7, 2014

‘Forgive our sins as we forgive’, you taught us, Lord, to pray;
but you alone can grant us grace to live the words we say.
How can your pardon reach and bless the unforgiving heart
that broods on wrongs and will not let old bitterness depart?
Hymnal #674

Finding forgiveness

In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus makes a connection between receiving and giving forgiveness. He taught us to pray, “Forgive us our sins, as we also forgive those who sin against us.”

Jesus followed the prayer with more teaching about forgiveness: “If you forgive others when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (Matt 6:9-15)

So you and I must decide to forgive, and – because forgiveness is hard – we must learn the discipline of forgiveness.  Then we have to practice, and practice and practice again, until forgiveness becomes a spiritual and emotional habit.

This is not just a challenge for individual Christians, it’s a challenge to the whole Church:
A Church that proclaims that its God is a God of love and forgiveness must show its own people how to be loving and forgiving.

So what is forgiveness?

As Richard Rohr says, Forgiveness is simply the religious word for letting go.

Last week, I gave a few illustrations of our common need to let go – but my examples were of those petty things we all tend to hold onto.  This morning, I think I can best illustrate what forgiveness is by telling you a very painful story.

Years ago a woman came to me and, over many weeks, poured out her heart. She was burdened, even haunted, by painful memories and of unremitting anger, sorrow, and guilt. The weight of those memories, the burden of these feelings, had now grown too great to bear.

In her younger years she had been married, and she had two children. Now she was divorced, her children had grown up and were living their own lives, and her former husband had moved far away.

Every divorce causes pain, and stirs deep anger, sorrow and guilt. Yet this woman’s feelings and her guilt went much deeper than most – because after the divorce her children had told her that, when they were in their early teens, they had been sexually abused by their father.

She felt overwhelming anger at her former husband – when she first heard her children’s story, and still more years later. What could she do with the rage she experienced?

She felt deep sorrow for her children – when she first heard what had happened, and still carried this sorrow years later. What could she do to repair the damage done to them?

And most of all, she felt guilty – when she first heard what happened, and ever more deeply through the years that followed.

Surely, she should have seen something? Surely, surely, she should have known what was happening?

Finally, because of her pain and especially because of her guilt, I suggested we turn to the Rite of Reconciliation in the Book of Common Prayer, thinking that the words of Scripture, and the Prayer Book liturgy itself, would bring her comfort and peace.

Confession – the Rite of Reconciliation – was new to our current Prayer Book in those years. We say the General Confession almost every Sunday, but the personal rite of Confession is still an unfamiliar part of the Prayer Book to most Episcopalians. (It would not be stretching the truth too much to say that Episcopalians may be more familiar with Confession from the movies – Roman Catholics going to Confession – than we are from our own lives.)

So let’s look at the Rite of Reconciliation together.

(If you have the BCP, turn to page 450-451)

———————————————————————————————————————————-
The Reconciliation of a Penitent
Book of Common Prayer, p. 450-451

The Penitent says

Holy God, heavenly father, you formed me from the dust in your image and likeness, and redeemed me from sin and death by the cross of your Son Jesus Christ. Through the water of baptism you clothed me with the shining garment of his righteousness, and established me among your children in your kingdom. But I have squandered the inheritance of your saints, and have wandered far in a land that is waste.

Especially, I confess to you and to the Church….

Here the penitent confesses particular sins.

Therefore, O Lord, from these and all other sins I cannot now remember, I turn to you in sorrow and repentance. Receive me again into the arms of your mercy, and restore me to the blessed company of your faithful people; through him in whom you have redeemed the world, your Son our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

The Priest may then offer words of comfort and counsel.

We talked quietly together until she indicated she was ready to move on.

Priest          Will you turn again to Christ as your Lord?

Penitent      I will.

Priest          Do you, then, forgive those who have sinned against you?

———————————————————————————————————————————-

She put down her prayer book and cried out, “No!”

“No,” she said again, “No! Maybe now I can finally forgive myself, but I still can’t forgive him!”

How do we forgive the unforgivable?

As the weeks went on, we continued to talk. We read Scripture together: Jesus’ words on forgiveness to his disciples; Jesus’ words of forgiveness from the cross. We prayed together: the Prayer of St. Francis, the Lord’s Prayer. And then one week she finally was able to say to me, “I think I’m ready. I can finish the Confession now.” She said,

I’ve realized that I have to let go of him. I have to stop thinking of him all the time.  I have to get him out of my mind, out of my heart, out of my gut.  He’s tied to me like the heaviest rock in the world. I need to be free. 

When I first tried to forgive him, all I could do was to mouth the words, “I’m letting him go…. I’m letting him go….” Then when he came back into my mind, I said it again and again.   I know I will always feel pain over this, but now I can decide to let go all over again when old thoughts come back.

Forgiveness is letting him go, and forgiveness is letting myself go. Forgiveness is not a feeling, it is a decision, and I can make it a habit. Every time I feel tempted to hold onto my anger, my own guilt, my desire for revenge, I can decide to let go.

I am so thankful that this amazing woman came into my life.  In the years after I first knew her, I watched her go from strength to strength – personally and professionally.

In the years since that powerful Confession, I’ve  also learned that there are connections between justice and forgiveness, but they’re not the ones we’re looking for:

Forgiveness is not pretending that nothing is wrong.  It is not accepting injustice.
Forgiveness is simply cutting the ties of resentment and bitterness that hold us down.
Once we are freed from those painful ties, then perhaps we can find energy for justice.

Next week: forgiveness and justice

THE TIES THAT BIND
Preached at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church
August 31, 2014

What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul?
What wondrous love is this
that caused the Lord of bliss
to lay aside his crown for my soul?
Hymnal # 439

God’s wondrous love

The central message of Christianity is that God loves the world, and an essential element of that love is God’s forgiveness – that is, that God keeps on loving us even when we have grieved God’s heart.

To understand the depth of God’s love and forgiveness is difficult for us, because we know there are limits to our own love, and we know our ability to forgive is also limited. But we also know that if we want to follow Christ, we must learn how to be loving and forgiving.

So from the very start our spiritual journey involves two immense challenges:

understanding and receiving God’s wondrous love for us,
and learning how to love others as God loves us;

understanding and receiving God’s wondrous forgiveness,
and learning to forgive others as God forgives us.

This is not just a challenge for individual Christians, it’s a challenge to the whole Church:
A Church that proclaims that its God is a God of love and forgiveness must teach its own people how to be loving and forgiving.

Wisdom from the Scriptures

Many people today think of ‘the God of the Old Testament’ as a God of judgment and anger. But along with the stories of God’s wrath and judgment, stories of God’s love and mercy are woven through the books of the Old Testament. Just consider today’s reading from Exodus, where God meets Moses at the burning bush, and tells Moses he hears the cries of a suffering people. Because of the depth of God’s love, Moses is sent to set his people free. (Exodus 3:1-15)

The theme of forgiveness is also woven through the Old Testament. The first book, Genesis, ends with the story of Joseph – whose brothers were so jealous of him that they threw him into a pit and sold him into slavery. Joseph was carried away to Egypt, where he ended up interpreting Pharaoh’s dreams, and became a leader of the Egyptians. At the end of the story (we’ll hear it two Sundays from now), Joseph was able to forgive his brothers in spite of the magnitude of their sins against him. (Genesis 50)

In the New Testament, God’s forgiveness is a central theme of Jesus’ message. In the parable of the prodigal son, Jesus teaches us that we, too, will always be welcomed home; but in the parable of the unforgiving steward, Jesus calls us to forgive as we have been forgiven. Jesus is telling us that our ability to receive forgiveness is linked to our ability to forgive others.

In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus emphasized the connection between receiving and giving forgiveness. He taught us to pray, “Forgive us our sins, as we also forgive those who sin against us.” Jesus followed the prayer with additional teaching about forgiveness: “For if you forgive others when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. (Matt 6:9-15)

The first disciples of Jesus knew well his teaching on forgiveness. This morning we’ve heard a portion of Paul’s letter to the Christians in Rome: “Let love be genuine… Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all…. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:9-21)

When we hear Jesus say, “Take up your cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:21-28) , we imagine ourselves being called to do great and difficult things for God. But what if our cross is not anything great, but the small, daily decision to love others when they are unlovable, the infinitely painful practice of forgiving others when they have hurt us? For those of us who find it hard to forgive – that would be almost every human on this earth – Jesus’ example of forgiveness may be the most difficult discipline of all.

Wisdom from modern medicine

Whenever we are hurt, we can quickly react with hurt, anger, or denial – and if we don’t stop and think, we can act out of those feelings. In addition, if we hold on to those feelings, they can fester into deep resentments and bitterness.

Researchers have found that unforgiveness has many physiological effects. These include increased heart rate and respiration, a narrowing of the blood vessels, and the release of powerful hormones such as adrenaline. All of the body’s systems are affected in a variety of ways. When this stress continues over a prolonged period of time, severe damage and illness can occur.

Mental health professionals also recognize that people struggling with unforgiveness often appear “stuck.” It is as if a part of their personality is fixed at a certain incomplete point. Think of someone you know – perhaps even you, yourself – who, in spite of being an accomplished adult, can sometimes be very childlike in relationships with others. Although there are many causes for this, unresolved bitterness is often at the core of the problem.

Forgiveness is necessary for our mental and emotional well-being. Indeed, forgiveness is a medicine that stops the infection of resentment that develops into the rotten disease of bitterness. Forgiveness interrupts this downward spiral and helps to set us on a path towards mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual wholeness.

But how can we learn to forgive?

This summer Rob and I drove to Washington State and back, seeing family along the way. I had the joy of spending time with my brother and both sisters. Each visit had the same pattern; we retold stories of our childhood, things we did and said to each other, things our parents did and said to each other and to us. These were powerful memories – they must be, to last into a person’s seventies! And while there were many happy memories, there were also painful ones – remembering things said and done that hurt us, that angered us, things that have never been forgotten.

We are all bound to the past, with remembered joys and lasting pain – and each of us has learned, over many years, the importance of forgiving.

But why do these old memories have so much power? Sometimes I think a painful memory, especially a memory of deep hurt, is like a rope that binds us to the person who once hurt us. It is as if, in our minds, every time we see that person – every time we think of that person – that rope tugs at us again, the memory rises, and we are back at the original hurt, the original injustice, all over again.

I know our family isn’t the only family that has these lasting memories. Perhaps we all tie emotional cords around the people who hurt us – thinking that we have caught them, that we will never forget what they did or said.

And yet – when I’ve tied someone to me, I’ve also tied myself to them…. And until I untie that old cord, until I let go of them, I will be bound to them forever.

Some contemporary Christian wisdom

Richard Rohr writes,

Forgiveness is simply the religious word for letting go.

To forgive reality is to let go of the negative story line, the painful story line that you’ve created for it. If that story line has become your identity, if you are choosing to live in a victim state, an abused consciousness, it gives you a false kind of power and makes you feel morally superior to others.

But let me tell you, it will also destroy you. It will make you smaller and smaller as you get older. You will find that you have fewer and fewer people you can trust, fewer and fewer people, if any, that you can love. Life itself becomes a threat. Your comfort zone becomes tinier and tinier.

Thankfully, God has given us a way to not let the disappointments, hurts, betrayals, and rejections of life destroy us. It is the art of letting go. If we can forgive and let go, if we don’t hold our hurts against history and against one another, we will indeed be following Jesus. After the crucifixion, there’s no record of Jesus wanting to blame anybody or accuse anybody. In fact, his last words are breathing forgiveness: “Father, forgive them; they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34).

Next week: practicing forgiveness