Preached on January 10, 2016

All four gospels begin their stories of Jesus’ adult ministry with his baptism.

In today’s reading from Luke’s gospel, this is what happened after Jesus was baptized:

When Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. Luke 3:21-22

Today, for a variety of reasons, parents usually bring babies and small children to the baptismal font (almost all of us here were baptized when we were too young to remember).

For too many centuries, Christians were taught that baptism was necessary to save them for eternal life. That was why parents brought their babies to the font – to make sure their beloved children would always be included in God’s saving love.

But that is not how baptism was understood in Jesus’ time, or in the first centuries afterward.  Instead, baptism was seen as the step into Jesus’ ministry, through the power of Jesus’ Spirit.

Note that there are no babies in today’s lessons – they are all adults, committing themselves to Jesus’ service after life-changing experiences. So what were those experiences?

I think the best way to illustrate that – quite literally – is to step into a picture.

Roman Ravenna

Imagine you are living in the Roman city of Ravenna, six centuries after Jesus. There are now many Christians in your city – maybe even in your own family – and sometime in the recent past, you’ve had experiences that have led you to believe in Jesus, too.

What might those experiences have been?  You may have seen Christians coming to their neighbors with prayers for healing….  You may have received food from Christians in times of famine….  You may have heard Christians singing with great joy in their worship…  You may have seen Christians in times of crisis and danger, facing their challenges with courage and hope…

So you have been attending the church’s worship services, and you have been learning about Jesus from the church’s teachers. (You probably never learned to read, but there are other ways to learn spiritual truths.)   And now you are ready for your baptism.

Arian Baptistry (500 AD)

Imagine that you have come to a small round building, a building you’ve seen many times. It’s not a particularly beautiful building, just a simple two-story octagon faced with ordinary brick. You’ve never been in the building, but you know this is the baptistry – the building next to the church were all baptisms now take place.

So now you walk through the door – and in the center of the room ahead of you there is a shallow pool, right under the building’s dome.

Candles are being lit throughout the building, and their light glitters on the colored mosaics all over the walls and ceiling.

This is no longer the humble brick building you’ve seen from the outside. It represents another world. It’s not heaven yet – but it’s heaven on earth, which is where Jesus sought to bring heaven’s love.

Arian Baptistry – the dome

Now imagine stepping into that pool, your bare feet in the water, and looking up at the dome. There above you is a circle of colored mosaics, and at the very center of the circle is a young Jesus, being baptized by John. The water is being poured over him, and a dove hovers in the air above his head.

Underneath that mosaic of Jesus’ baptism, you are standing in the waters of your own baptism. You are following in Jesus’ footsteps.

But did Jesus come to his own baptism to be ‘saved’ for eternal life? Or was he asking for spiritual power for his ministry?

Look up at the dome again – there’s more to the picture.  Now you see another circle around the central mosaic.  That circle is filled with the first people who followed Jesus. One after another, they keep moving forward. You look more carefully at their faces, and you see they are all Jesus’ disciples. And you know you are following in their footsteps.

But did the first disciples come to their baptisms so they could be ‘saved’ for eternal life? Or – in their encounters with Jesus and his Spirit – were they given power for their ministry?

There’s a clue in the mosaic above you.

The power of the Spirit is poured upon Jesus

This mosaic tells us the meaning of baptism in powerful images.

The reading from Acts tells us in words –

When the apostles heard that Samaria had accepted the word of God, they sent Peter and John… who went down and prayed for them that they might receive the Holy Spirit (for as yet the Spirit had not come upon any of them; they had only been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus). Then Peter and John laid their hands on them, and they received the Holy Spirit. (Acts 8:14-17)

Here the Samaritans – yes, those Samaritans! – receive the Holy Spirit after their baptisms. Did these Samaritans believe they were being ‘saved’ for eternal life? They had already followed Jesus and all of his disciples into the waters of baptism. They were already connected to Jesus and to his church, the company of his disciples. But now something more was happening to them– the Spirit was giving them power for ministry.

And now you – with Jesus and the disciples, and with all his other followers from Jerusalem to Samaria and now even to Italy – you are standing in the pool of baptism, and you are ready to step into the great circle of Jesus’ servants, every one of them empowered by the Holy Spirit for ministry.

You’re not just standing in that pool to be ‘saved’ for eternal life – you are asking for the Spirit’s power to serve God in this world, too.

The Holy Spirit gives us power for service

One of the greatest gifts of the American Book of Common Prayer is the way it has taught Episcopalians what baptism really means.

Yes, our faith tells us that baptism links us to Jesus throughout eternity – we are ‘saved’ for eternal life with God – but that’s not all it means.

In our baptisms, we were called to serve in Jesus’ Name, and we were given the power of the Spirit to do that.  So in our baptisms we joined the great company of those who follow Jesus; throughout our Christian lives we’ve been walking along with them, one step at a time, always accompanied by the Spirit of Jesus.

So…. Let me highlight some of the baptismal promises we’re about to renew:

Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?

How will you proclaim the Good News – what kind of example will you be?

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons…?

How will you seek and serve Christ in all persons – even today’s Samaritans?

Will you love your neighbor as yourself?

How will you love your neighbors as yourself – even your most unlovable neighbors?

Will you strive for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being?

How will you strive for justice and peace –  even in a time when too many of this world’s leaders think war will bring peace?

Our answer is always the same:  I will, with the Spirit’s help. 

Procession of the Baptized (Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna)

A homily preached at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church, Los Osos
January 10: The Baptism of Jesus

Preached on December 13, 2015

Have we become a nation led by ‘false prophets’?

(In the history of Israel, a prophet was someone who brought the word of God to the people.  A false prophet was someone who told the people what they wanted to hear.)

The day after the San Bernardino shootings, I was driving downtown and thinking about the unending violence in our nation and our world. In my mind I was hearing the cacophony of national voices pretending to be prophetic, shouting out answers in response to terrorism. Then I saw this bumper sticker on the car ahead of me:

Today, too many of us are thinking only of what we want.
Too few of us are thinking of what our world really needs.

Every Advent we hear the voices of Israel’s prophets.

These prophets were not just foretelling the future, but forth-telling God’s Word.  This morning we’ve heard from John the Baptist (the very picture of a prophet!) and from Isaiah (we just sang that beautiful hymn set to Isaiah’s words):

Surely it is God who saves me; trusting God, I shall not fear.
For the Lord defends and shields me, and his saving help is near.
So rejoice as you draw water from salvation’s living spring;
in the day of your deliverance thank the Lord, his mercies sing…
Zion, lift your voice in singing; for with you has come to dwell,
in your very midst, the great and Holy One of Israel.  (Isaiah 12:2-6)

In the 1st century John the Baptist came with a word of warning:

Israel was living a miserable existence under Roman domination. Israel’s leaders had made an agreement with the Romans, thinking it kept them safe, but John called them ‘a brood of vipers’. Israel’s people were not only crushed by the Romans, but by their own leaders. So as a beginning of a new way of life, John told the people to treat each other fairly.

In the 8th century before Christ, Isaiah came with a word of comfort:

It was a time of extraordinary tension in Jerusalem; the northern kingdom (Israel) had been taken over by the Assyrians while the southern kingdom (Judah) paid heavy taxes to Assyria and wondered when its own time would come. Yet in that time of high anxiety Isaiah told them to rejoice – because the Holy One of Israel lived in their midst.

A true prophet not only has the courage to speak, but is also willing to hear.

And how does a prophet ‘hear’?

To hear anyone – from a neighbor to a spouse to the voice of God – we need to set aside our own perspective (always a partial view of reality) long enough to listen – really listen. So the true prophet steps away from his ‘place’ – whether that place is the Jerusalem of the 8th century BC, or the desert of the 1st century AD, or this extraordinary world of the 21st century.

If we listened – for God’s voice – what then would we hear?

A true prophet is also willing to see. 

And how does a prophet ‘see’?

A prophet does not look for the received wisdom of his own group, but asks for the wisdom of God.

God always sees the whole, not the part. (As Isaiah said, God is the Holy One in our midst). God not only sees comfortable, middle-class Americans wondering if their way of life will survive. God also sees miserable, mostly middle-class refugees running in desperation from their lost homes in Syria. God not only sees hundreds of westerners killed by terrorists, but thousands of Americans killed by guns, and thousands upon thousands of Muslims killed by terrorism.

If we tried to see as God sees, would we see more of the whole picture?

And then – finally – the prophet finds the courage to speak the truth.

(It’s not that prophets aren’t afraid – look what happened to John the Baptist – but what the true prophet hears and sees is so powerful it overcomes his fear.)

So what did John the Baptist ‘hear’ and ‘see’? John saw his people from God’s perspective: the nation’s leaders, sure of their grip on power, full of confidence – and the desperate poor, without power and without hope. To the nation’s leaders John said…. “ You brood of vipers…” To the desperate people John said… “Share what you have….”

And what did Isaiah ‘hear’ and ‘see’? Isaiah saw his people from God’s perspective: even the leaders had lost hope, fearing the Assyrians were coming for them next. So to a people living in fear, Isaiah said:. remember, the Holy One of Israel is right here in your midst.

To have God in our midst can be both a comfort and a warning.

When we are afraid, it is a comfort to know that God is with us.

Indeed, that is the deepest meaning of Christmas – Emmanuel, God is with us. God sees the whole picture, and with Christ in the picture the future is never as bleak as it may look to us.

But when we’re satisfied, it’s not always a comfort to hear what God has to say.

If we are rich, if we are comfortable, what about those who are poor and miserable? Can we learn to see the whole picture? Once again, God sees the whole picture….. and wants us to see it, too.

As always, Scripture always has a Word for us:

This Advent needs to be a time of listening and looking, so in the New Year we will be able to speak out with courage – about what we hear, and what we see.

 Preached at St. Benedict’s Church, Los Osos – December 13, 2015

Preached on November 8, 2015

Risking all
she frees herself
of her last small treasure.
As the coins clatter away
her heart beats with fear and joy.
The widow flings her poverty in the face of power. *

As some of you know, last month Rob and I were on a cruise in the Mediterranean. If you ask Rob what was the best thing about the cruise, he’ll say, “The food!” And it’s true – we both have wonderful memories of the food – Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese – and of course all the meals on board the ship.

Poverty in the face of power:  As I hear this gospel story (and this poem) this morning, I’m remembering one particular dinner on the ship – when a political topic came up, the upcoming presidential election. It was hard for me to hear the whole conversation over the background chatter, but then all of a sudden, I heard a man across the table speak very clearly and firmly:

“I don’t agree with ‘one man, one vote!’ Why should someone who contributes nothing to the economy – someone who doesn’t have a job, or someone whose job doesn’t do much to grow the economy – why should they get the same vote as people who run large businesses, and create many other jobs?”

I continued to eat my sumptuous meal in silence, not willing to argue about politics, or values, over the din.  But I  thought of all the mothers, who don’t get paid but raise our children to be adults who contribute to society. And I thought of all the people, men and women, who get paid minimum salaries to do the jobs without which our homes, businesses, and organizations could not function. Should only those people who contribute substantially to the economy get a voice and a vote?

Make no mistake, this man is not the only member of our society who thinks this way. He just said what he thinks out loud, rather belligerently, after too much wine.

But Jesus thinks differently.

The widow Jesus notices in today’s gospel has received a lot of attention over the centuries. She is always remembered and honored for her radical generosity. And indeed she should be – and not just this unnamed widow, but all the unnamed “little” people, the poor and powerless, not only in the church, but in society.

Study after study shows that the poor (those most stressed by the hard facts of their daily lives) give more of their meager income to the church – and to charity – than the rich. That is, when you look at the percentage rather than the total, the poor are always far, far more generous than the rich.

So who are we, in light of Jesus’ ancient words – and in light of modern surveys – to say some classes of people should have no vote or voice because they contribute so little to the total amount in the money box?

The widow Jesus points to was a very real person, I’m sure, but she is also a symbol. She is a symbol of all the widows, all the children, all the poor, all the minority groups who have no voice, who are considered worthless by the powerful, yet give more of their substance to the body politic (and to the body religious) than the rich.

I remember the night I learned this lesson in a way that permanently changed my thinking about the power of money. I was a newly ordained priest. The rector, my new boss, had asked me to be the clergy representative on a new stewardship committee. (I was too green to realize that he put me on this committee because he himself was afraid to talk to the congregation about money.) I did already know, however, that he was intimidated by certain people in the congregation – who in his mind had great power because they had so much money.

So that fall I dutifully joined the stewardship committee, and the whole committee attended the November vestry meeting.  During that meeting we sat in concentric circles, and the stewardship chairman, who was tabulating the pledges, was sitting right in front of me in the inner circle. Unfortunately or fortunately, I could plainly see the list he was holding in his lap.

It was a list of the pledges that had already come in, and he was telling the vestry, in a very general and anonymous way, how the campaign was going.

But there in his lap was the list – penciled names and amounts, running in a long line down the page. And before I could look away, I saw the paltry amounts pledged by the people who most intimidated the rector – and the much larger amounts pledged by people who were obviously struggling financially.

Since that night I have rarely been afraid of the opinions of powerful people. I try, instead, to listen to their opinions – as fully and deeply, and with as much compassion  – as I listen to those whose lives and struggles pull at my heart strings.

And that brings me back to the widow and her mite.

It seems to me that listening to a gospel story is a lot like listening to a poem. We hear a poem, we even think we understand it, but we usually know we’re missing some (or even all) of the meaning.

And so the church through the centuries has heard the story of the widow’s mite – time and time again. And time and time again, the church has thought it understands Jesus’ meaning. And yet, and yet – time and time again, by our deepest thoughts and our outer actions, in our churches and in our societies – we demonstrate that we don’t get Jesus’ meaning.

How can we change this? Today, I invite you into an action.

It’s a very small action, I admit, but every profound change begins with a small change in our behavior, even a symbolic action. And here’s the action I’m asking for this morning – pick up your pencils.   Yes, pick up your pencils – by writing down these words, by rehearsing these words, we’ll be listening to this widow  –  and to Jesus – again and again.

Perhaps as we listen to this widow, we’ll also begin to change our attitudes about giving, about the poor, about those who don’t seem to matter much in our society.  We may even learn how to fling our own poverty into the face of power.

Risking all she frees herself of her last small treasure.
As the coins clatter away her heart beats with fear and joy.
The widow flings her poverty in the face of power.

* from Streams of Mercy: A Meditative Commentary on the Bible,
by the Rev. Ann Fontaine (AuthorHouse, 2005)

A sermon preached at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church, Los Osos – November 8, 2015.

Preached on September 20, 2015

Mark 9:30-37

Jesus and his disciples went on from there and passed through Galilee.
He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them,
“The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him,
and three days after being killed, he will rise again.”
But the disciples did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.   Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them,
“What were you arguing about on the way?”  But they were silent,
for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest.

So he sat down, called the twelve, and said to them,
“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”
Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms,
he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me,
and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

Jesus and his disciples are walking through Galilee; they are moving quietly through the countryside, because he needs time to teach his disciples the Way.   (I don’t mean the way to Jerusalem – they knew that way – but the Way of discipleship.)  Jesus wants to build a community which understands and lives the Way of the kingdom – but the disciples aren’t a community yet, and they’re having trouble understanding what he means.

He’s already told them that to follow his Way they must deny themselves – deny their own ambitions, let go of their hopes for success, let go of their need to be important. But on the road to Capernaum, they haven’t been talking about how to let go of their egos, but arguing about who was most important – about who would be greatest in Jesus’ coming kingdom! They just didn’t get it.  But do we get it?

At the end of the day, when they entered the house for the night, Jesus tried another way to get through to them. Seeing a little child in the corner of the room, he took it in his arms and said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me… “  (Notice that Jesus didn’t just point to a child to teach a lesson; he picked up the child and held him in his arms. This child is not just an object lesson; this child is loved.)

So what is it about children that Jesus wants us to understand?

• Children have no influence, no power over others.

• Children have earned nothing; everything they own has been given to them.

• Children have everything to learn and (we think) nothing to teach us.

• Children cannot help others (we think) but need help from adults….

But children actually have many gifts to give us – and in this prayer from the service of Baptism (BCP p. 308) we will ask God to give those gifts to the newly baptized:

Give them an inquiring and discerning heart;
the courage to will and to persevere,
a spirit to know and to love you,
and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.

The gifts of joy and wonder… the gift of an inquiring and discerning heart… the gift of courage… the gift of perseverance… these are the qualities children share with us.

(And, yes – children can be egotists, too… There’s nothing like a two-year-old for saying “me, me, me” and “that’s mine!” Sometimes the only power a child has is to make noise…. and sometimes the noise is loud enough to get what she wants.)

I’m thinking back to my lunches with college students in Oberlin…. From 12 to 20 students came in the kitchen door every Monday, made sandwiches on the kitchen counter, grabbed a drink, and then moved on to the living room where they ate, talked, and debated interesting questions….

These were young people from every denomination, and others from no religious background at all…. They were coming to church on Sundays for the liturgy, the music, the sacraments, the preaching….

They were coming to lunch on Mondays for the food, and the friendship, and the pleasure of being in a home… But they were also curious about Christianity, and wanted to know what I believed as an Episcopalian…

I was always the last one to make my sandwich, and then I would come into the living room, and join the conversation. There they would be, crammed onto the sofas, perched in the chairs…. I usually ended up sitting on the piano bench, or the floor.

But there was a sophomore girl who always sat in ‘her’ chair – a big, plush wing chair by the fireplace. Others soon learned she would make snide remarks if they sat in ‘her’ chair – so they learned to leave the chair empty for her. She always made a noise loud enough to get what she wanted!

A ‘tradition’ soon developed at these lunches – someone would ask me a ‘hard question” as soon as I took a bite of my sandwich. There was no way to talk with a mouth full of ham and cheese! And that turned out to be a good thing.

The very first time I was asked a ‘hard question’ I was asked,

“Why do Episcopalians baptize children?”

I looked around the group that day, and I saw students who were Catholic, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Methodist, Lutheran … all of them baptized as babies, all familiar with churches at home where babies were baptized.

And I saw students who were Baptist, Evangelical … all baptized after making a personal decision, all familiar with the baptisms of people who had wrestled personally with their faith decision.

And then there were the students who were seekers … curious about Christianity and never baptized.

What should I say to them? What would you say to them? Thank God my mouth was full! (To chew slowly and carefully before you open your mouth is a good thing.)

• Everyone is a child before God.

• Baptism is a decision – a choice to follow the way of Jesus.

• The decision needs to be personal, but it is also a community decision.

• Baptism is always a covenant between God, one person, and the community

In the spiritual life, we never learn anything on our own – the Spirit of God works in our hearts, and the same Spirit of God guides us through the Christian community.

Now the girl who needed to have ‘her’ chair left Oberlin for her junior year abroad. When she returned to school the next fall, she came back to Monday lunch and went straight to ‘her’ chair – and there was a freshman sitting in it.

“That’s my chair!” she said to the unsuspecting freshman, expecting him to move immediately. The whole group fell silent, and then some began murmuring gently, “Let him sit there…” The poor freshman didn’t know what to do, and simply froze in the chair – and the girl who wanted her chair actually left in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

She returned a few Mondays later, still pouting a little, but finally willing to sit in a new place. But she let the group know that she wasn’t very happy about it.

That would be the end of the story – except years later, Rob and I met her at St. Andrew’s, Saratoga, in our own diocese. She was now in her early thirties, eager to learn, willing to share, and a full member of the community. She had grown up, and the church had helped her grow.

The Spirit in the Baptizing Community teaches us the Way of Jesus.  The Way of Jesus is the way of letting go of ego…. It’s the way of being vulnerable… The way of sharing our lives with others … The Way of putting others ahead of ourselves ….

And how do we learn the Way?

As individuals, we must follow the way of the child:

Keeping the child’s inquiring and discerning heart;
developing the child’s gift of joy and wonder in all God’s works,
and holding onto the child’s courage to will and to persevere…

And as a community, we must teach each other the Way of Jesus.

And that’s why we, the Baptizing Community, are asked to respond today.

At the baptism of babies and children, we will be asked:
Will you, by your prayers and witness.
help this child to grow into the full stature of Christ?

At the baptism of young people and adults, we will be asked,
Will you do all in your power
to support these persons in their life in Christ?

And we will answer:  We will, with God’s help.

Preached at the baptisms of Samantha Jean Hascall and Everett James McMaines,
at St. Benedict’s Church, Los Osos, on September 20, 2015.

Preached at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church – June 28, 2015

Today’s lessons raised questions at our Wednesday evening Bible study:

• Why is there pain and death?
• What do we do to deserve pain and death?
• How can we end our suffering?
• Can we be healed?

And each lesson seemed to give us a different message.

The Wisdom of Solomon said

God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living. For God created all things so that they might exist; the generative forces of the world are wholesome, and there is no destructive poison in them, and the dominion of Hades is not on earth.  For righteousness is immortal. God created us for incorruption, and made us in the image of his own eternity, but through the devil’s envy death entered the world, and those who belong to his company experience it.  (Wisdom 1:13-15, 2:23-24)

Wisdom told us that God wants to give us eternal life, but that will depend on our righteousness – that is, living without sin.

The Psalm said

I will exalt you, O LORD, because you have lifted me up and have not let my enemies triumph over me.  O LORD my God, I cried out to you, and you restored me to health. While I felt secure, I said, “I shall never be disturbed. You, LORD, with your favor, made me as strong as the mountains.”  Then you hid your face, and I was filled with fear…. (Psalm 30)

The psalmist gives thanks because he has been healed.  But he believes his illness was a sign that God had turned away from him – and only his desperate pleading made God change his mind.

But the Gospel said

Jairus, one of the leaders of the synagogue, came and, when he saw Jesus, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” And Jesus went with him.

A large crowd followed Jesus and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years…. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.

Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, `Who touched me?'” He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

While he was still speaking, some people came from Jairus’ house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to him, “Do not fear, only believe.” He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. And when they came to Jairus’ house, Jesus saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about… (Mark 5:21-43)

The Gospel told us that Jesus healed people with God’s loving compassion, regardless of their circumstances, and regardless of their petty sins.

To the woman, Jesus said: “Your faith has made you well; go in peace…”

To the girl’s father Jesus said: “Do not fear, only believe…”

And to the child Jesus said, “Little girl, arise…”

This Gospel challenges our old ideas about suffering and death:

Did the woman suffer for 12 years because God had turned away from her?

Did the child almost die because she sinned, or because her parents sinned?

Then why would Jesus reach out compassion and give healing to them both?

If you want to understand Mark’s Jesus, you must wrestle with the healing stories.

Today we ask how questions:  ‘How did Jesus heal?’ and  ‘How can we pray for healing?’

Imagine the questions that Jesus’ disciples, and the crowds, had about healing! But their questions focused on why:

Why did Jesus heal the woman, who was clearly a sinner and breaking the law as well?  (As long as she continued to bleed, she was required to withdraw from other people.)

Why did Jesus heal the little girl, who was probably suffering God’s punishment for some lack of righteousness?  (The law said her parents should take her to the priest, make confession, and ask for God’s mercy.)

Think of the Gospel as a mystery.

When we read an ordinary mystery, we know we’ll find the answer to our questions when we get to the end.  But unlike reading a mystery (where you don’t know the ending until you get to the last page), and unlike Jesus’ disciples (who didn’t know the end of the story), we can read the end of the story first.  When we see the Gospel through its ending, we begin to understand.

And how is this story going to end? Jesus the healer died on the cross and rose again. So after the resurrection, here are the questions Mark’s first readers asked:

If Jesus died on the cross, did God reject him because of sin?

If Jesus suffered in great pain, did God inflict that pain upon him?

If Jesus died despite the prayers of his disciples, what does that say about our prayers for ourselves and those we love?

And, in light of the Gospel’s ending, here are more questions we have to ask: 

If Jesus endured great suffering, shouldn’t we expect to endure it, too?

What if suffering and death is a part of life on earth, and not always our fault?

Clues to the Gospel mystery

One clue to the Gospel mystery is found in the psalm:

In the midst of his illness, the psalmist turned to God; and the relationship – always open on God’s side –  was restored. (Psalm 30:2) 

Other clues to the mystery are found in Mark’s Gospel:

The isolated woman who came to Jesus for help was turning to God through Jesus – and she was healed. (Mark 5:28)

The desperate father who came to Jesus for help was turning to God through Jesus – and a family was healed. (Mark 5:23)

The Gospel tells us that God’s face is always turned towards us.

Always read the Scriptures through Jesus:

In the Gospel, ‘righteousness’ doesn’t depend on our doing everything right.

The Gospel says our ‘righteousness’ comes from turning our face to God.

And in Jesus we see that God’s face is always turned towards us.

The message of Mark’s whole Gospel is this:

Jesus lives! Despite his suffering and death, His Spirit is alive!

And what does that say to us about God’s healing love for us?

Sometimes an old hymn says it best:

O Love of God, how strong and true, eternal and yet ever new;
uncomprehended and unbought, beyond all knowledge and all thought.

O wide-embracing, wondrous Love, we read thee in the sky above;
we read thee in the earth below, in seas that swell and streams that flow.

We read thee best in him who came to bear for us the cross of shame;
sent by the Father from on high, our life to live, our death to die.

We read thy power to bless and save e’en in the darkness of the grave;
still more in resurrection light we read the fullness of thy might. 

Hymnal #445 (Horatio Bonar, 1808-1889)

Preached at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church – June 28, 2015

Preached at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Cambria – June 21, 2015

(1) The news this week reminds us that we are surrounded by storms: 

There was sudden and shocking news – last Wednesday night, at the same time we at St. Paul’s were meeting in our own Bible study, a white gunman shot 9 black people in a Bible study at a church in Charleston, South Carolina. The ongoing violence, and the ongoing racism, of our culture is a challenge to our nation: it is time to work together to heal our society.  In today’s Prayers of the People, we will begin to respond to the news from Charleston.

And then there was some ongoing news – of climate change, of environmental degradation, of the extinction of hundreds of species every year.  And so on Thursday, Pope Francis issued a challenge to the world: it is time to work together to heal our planet.  In today’s homily, we will begin to respond to the news from Pope Francis.

(2) In response to this week’s news, what do today’s SCRIPTURES say?

From the Gospel (Mark 4:35-41):

Jesus is in Galilee, teaching his disciples and the crowds who follow him. After a long day, he and his disciples get into a boat to go to the other side of the lake.

A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But Jesus was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

At our Bible study Wednesday night, here’s what we heard: In their panic, they called out to Jesus.  And Jesus responded by asking them, “Where is your faith?”

• If we eliminate this passage because it violates the laws of nature,
we miss its real point: God is in the boat with us, in the middle of the storm.

• At the time Mark’s Gospel was written, people had no trouble believing that God was active in the natural world – but their challenge (and ours) is to see God working in Jesus.

• Mark’s message: Trust in Jesus, trust in God.

From the first lesson (Job 38:1-11):

Job and his friends have been arguing about why he has suffered so much. For endless hours, Job’s friends have said that God is punishing him for his sins, and they counsel him to repent. But Job cannot figure out what his sin is. Finally, he calls out to God in his distress. And then God answers Job out of the whirlwind:

“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like a man; I will question you, and you shall declare to me: “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements– surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?”

At our Bible study, here’s what we heard: In his despair, Job cried out to God.
And God responded by saying: “You think you understand… but you don’t.”

• God tells Job, “You don’t understand because you are not God.”

• Job answers God, and his answer is very short: “I had heard of you before, but now I see you…” (Job 42:1-5)

• Job’s message:  We may never get answers to our deepest questions, but to know God moves us all to awe; we begin to get a glimmer of the mysterious love that has created us and still dwells among us.

Some notes on the book of Job:

• This is the longest passage on the natural world in the entire Bible.  The book of Job tells us that God not only created this natural world – with all its storms and all its beauty – but God is still present and active in this world.

• With help from modern science, we may understand a lot more about the world than Job did, but still – we are not God.

(3) In response to this week’s news, what does the POPE say? *

This week Pope Francis released a papal encyclical, a message sent directly to the world’s Catholics – but really meant for everyone on earth. In his letter Francis tells us how God cares for suffering people in our world, but also for the suffering of the world itself.

The message begins, “LAUDATO SI’, mi’ Signore” – “Praise be to you, my Lord”.  Pope Francis, who took his name from St. Francis (the patron saint of far more than the birds of the air and beasts of the field) begins his encyclical with a quote from St. Francis’s Canticle of the Sun:

In the words of this beautiful canticle, Saint Francis of Assisi reminds us that our common home is like a sister with whom we share our life and a beautiful mother who opens her arms to embrace us… This sister now cries out to us because of the harm we have inflicted on her by our irresponsible use and abuse of the goods with which God has endowed her. We have come to see ourselves as her lords and masters, entitled to plunder her at will.

The violence present in our hearts, wounded by sin, is also reflected in the symptoms of sickness evident in the soil, in the water, in the air and in all forms of life. This is why the earth herself, burdened and laid waste, is among the most abandoned and maltreated of our poor; she “groans in travail.”

We have forgotten that we ourselves are dust of the earth; our very bodies are made up of her elements, we breathe her air and we receive life and refreshment from her waters. *

Then Francis addresses those who still think that God has appointed human beings to be masters of the whole world:

The creation accounts in the book of Genesis … suggest that human life is grounded in three fundamental and closely intertwined relationships: with God, with our neighbour, and with the earth itself.

According to the Bible, these three vital relationships have been broken, both outwardly and within us. This rupture is sin. The harmony between the Creator, humanity and creation as a whole was disrupted by our presuming to take the place of God and refusing to acknowledge our creaturely limitations.

This in turn distorted our mandate to “have dominion” over the earth (cf. Gen 1:28), to “till it and keep it” (Gen 2:15). [In]… our situation today…sin is manifest in all its destructive power in wars, the various forms of violence and abuse, in the abandonment of the most vulnerable, and in attacks on nature. (Paragraph 66)

We may be aware of our sins against other people; we have been taught to confess, and to ask for forgiveness.

But most of us are not aware of our sins against the world we live in, or our sins against other species. In fact, most people on earth still think human beings are in charge of the planet.

But again and again the Pope says, “We are not God.”

We are not God. The earth was here before us and it has been given to us….

The Genesis account which grants man “dominion” over the earth has encouraged the unbridled exploitation of nature… This is not a correct interpretation of the Bible… We must forcefully reject the notion that our being created in God’s image and given dominion over the earth justifies absolute domination over other creatures.

The biblical texts are to be read in their context… recognizing that they tell us to “till and keep” the garden of the world (cf. Gen 2:15). “Tilling” refers to cultivating, plowing or working, while “keeping” means caring, protecting, overseeing and preserving. This implies a relationship of mutual responsibility between human beings and nature.

Each community can take from the bounty of the earth whatever it needs for subsistence, but it also has the duty to protect the earth and to ensure its fruitfulness for coming generations. (Paragraph 67)

(4) In response to this week’s news, what does today’s LITURGY say?

We are blessed by the riches of the Book of Common Prayer – but other traditions can also give us new words, give us expanded visions of God and God’s world, and can help us learn how to care for the world God has given us.

And so our Eucharistic prayer this morning comes from New Zealand, and it was written with the understanding that comes from today’s scriptures: God is in the boat with us, in the midst of the storms that shake our world. And, if God is present in and through the material world – then God cares about the whole material world – its atmosphere, its resources, its species, everything – not just the human species.

Whenever we sing the Sanctus, we are remembering the prophet Isaiah’s vision. Worshiping in the great Temple of Jerusalem, Isaiah saw the glory of God: the curtain covering the Holy of Holies, the most sacred room in the Temple, was lifted – and Isaiah saw God’s throne, surrounded by angels and clouds of incense. And Isaiah cried out:

Holy, holy, holy Lord,
God of power and might,
heaven and earth are full of your glory.
Isaiah 6:1f – BCP p. 362

But today, when we say the Sanctus,
we will be borrowing words from the New Zealand Prayer Book:

Holy, holy, holy:
God of mercy, giver of life;
earth and sea and sky
and all that lives,
declare your presence and your glory.
NZPB p. 469

Repeat those words now yourself –
notice the curtain covering the Holy of Holies is opened once again,
but we are not seeing God contained in a room in a temple, even a great Temple.
Now we are seeing God’s glory present in the whole world:
earth and sea and sky and all that lives declare your presence and your glory.

(5) And in response to this week’s news, what will we say?

As we come to the end of the Eucharistic Prayer today, we will ask God to

Empower our celebration with your Holy Spirit,
feed us with your life,
fire us with your love,
and confront us with your justice,
and make us one with every creature on earth…
NZPB p. 470

How can we dare to pray that prayer together?  Dare we believe that God is in our world, this material world, and calling us to heal it?  Dare we believe that we have the strength to take on this call?

This is my prayer for us today – that God will empower our celebration, feed us with Christ’s life, fire us with the Spirit’s love, confront us with the call to justice, and make us one with every creature on earth crying for healing, for justice, and for love.  Amen.

Preached at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Cambria – June 28, 2015

*  Read the Pope’s Encyclical at  http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/encyclicals/documents/papa-francesco_20150524_enciclica-laudato-si.html

Preached on April 19, 2015

CHRIST’S BODY IN OUR WORLD
Earth Day 2015A Prayer from St. Teresa of Avila *

Christ has no body but ours,
No hands, no feet on earth but ours,
Ours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Ours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Ours are the hands with which he blesses all the world….
Christ has no body now on earth but ours.
* Adapted from Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)

Today is Earth Day – What is the Church saying? *

In February, a group of Anglican Bishops gathered in South Africa to build on months of conversations carried out via the internet. The group included bishops from cultures and nations that are major contributors to climate change – and bishops from cultures that are suffering because of climate change. In March, they issued their collective statement:

“We accept the evidence of science: Human activity, especially in fossil-fuel based economies, is the main cause of the climate crisis…The problem is spiritual as well as economic, scientific and political. We have been complicit in a theology of domination. While God committed the care of creation to us, we have been care-less – but we are not hopeless…“In the words of St Theresa of Avila, we are God’s hands and feet on earth:  Now is the time for us, rooted in prayer, to step up and take action on the climate crisis.”

* The World Is Our Host: A Call to Urgent Action for Climate Justice, March 2015

Today is Earth Day – What are the Scriptures saying?

From the Gospel:   The disciples were gathered together and were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed!” While they were still talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence…. Luke 24:36f

What this Gospel says to me:  Although at first the disciples think the Risen Christ is a spirit – a ghost – Jesus is NOT just a spirit. He is not another ‘human’ being like themselves (he appears in the room even though the door is locked). But neither is he just a ‘spiritual’ being (he invites them to touch his hands and feet, and then he asks for food).

The disciples saw that in Jesus, God is present in and through the material world – how, they didn’t know (and we still don’t know). But they trusted their experience of Jesus; in fact, the experience of the Risen Christ was so powerful for them that most of them eventually stopped trying to figure out how it all happened.

(Our minds, influenced by modern materialism, want to understand before we can trust our experience.  In fact, we are so consumed by trying to understand how things work that we have almost stopped looking for the experience. If the Risen Christ appeared to us today, could we set aside our questions long enough to simply experience his presence?)

What did the disciples conclude from their experience? That God surrounds the creation, that God is fully present in the creation – and that God is present with us through Love.

But – here’s the thought that’s been rolling around in my mind this Easter season:

It is easier to believe Jesus rose from the dead than to believe that God loves us.

It is easier to believe that Jesus actually rose from the dead
than to believe that God actually loves me.

And yes, it is easier to believe that Jesus rose from the dead
than to believe that his Spirit’s Love gives us the power to change the world.

From the first lesson:   See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are… Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when God is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see God as he is…. 1 John 3:1f

What John’ letter says to me:  Throughout this Easter season, we will be hearing portions of John’s first letter, written half a century after the Risen Christ appeared to the disciples.  In his old age, John is telling his community that God loves them. He tells them that someday they will know God fully:  when God is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see God as he is….   And someday we will know fully – but we have to start believing now:

It was God’s Love that raised Jesus from the dead. Indeed, it was because of God’s Love that Jesus endured his suffering. The Love that created us, the Love that creates the world, is so powerful that it breaks down doors, it opens graves, and it can make it possible for us to work together to change the world.

Today is Earth Day – what is the liturgy saying?

We Anglicans are blessed by the riches of the Book of Common Prayer – but other traditions can also give us new words, give us expanded visions of God and God’s world, and can help us learn how to care for the world God has given us. And so our liturgy this morning comes from a number of cultures – from New Zealand, Scotland, and England, as well as other American churches.

All these liturgies are telling us that if God is present in and through the material world – then God cares about the whole material world – its atmosphere, its resources, its species, everything – not just the human species.

(4) But before we start: Muir’s bear *

Hiking through Yosemite, John Muir came upon a dead bear lying in the forest. Writing later in his journal, Muir bitterly complained about religious folk who believed there is no room in heaven for such a noble creature.

“Not content with taking all of earth, they also claim the celestial country as the only ones who possess the kinds of souls for which that imponderable empire was planned.” These magnificent creatures, however, are expressions of God’s power “inseparably companioned by love.” They are made of the same dust as we, and breathe the same winds and drink of the same waters. A bear’s days are warmed by the same sun, and his life, pulsing with a heart like ours, was poured from the same First Fountain. With our stingy spirit we may want to block this creature from heaven. To the contrary, Muir said, “God’s charity is big enough for bears.”

* quoted in Ask the Beasts: Darwin and the God of Love, by Elizabeth Johnson (p. 228)

So think of the ‘bears’ that are lying in wait for YOU –
in  the forests, the mountains, the trees, the beasts, the waters, the earth, the air.

Ask yourself:
what needs touch MY heart,
what cause awakes MY compassion,
what job might be MY job?

(5) Holy, Holy, Holy 

Whenever we sing the Sanctus, we are remembering the prophet Isaiah’s vision.

Worshiping in the great Temple of Jerusalem, Isaiah saw the glory of God: the curtain covering the Holy of Holies, the most sacred room in the Temple, was opened – and Isaiah saw God’s throne and God, surrounded by angels and clouds of incense. And Isaiah cried out:

Holy, holy, holy Lord,
God of power and might,
heaven and earth are full of your glory.
Isaiah 6:1f – BCP p. 362

But today, when we say the Sanctus, we will be using words from New Zealand:

Holy, holy, holy:
God of mercy, giver of life;
earth and sea and sky
and all that lives,
declare your presence and your glory.
NZPB p. 469

Notice that again the curtain covering the Holy of Holies is opened, but we are not seeing God dwelling in a room inside a temple, even a great Temple, surrounded by liturgical incense and music. No, we are seeing God’s glory present in the whole world, because :

earth and sea and sky and all that lives declare your presence and your glory…

and the curtain has been taken away from before our eyes.

(6) Today’s commitment – what are we saying?

As we come to the end of the Eucharistic Prayer today, we will ask God to

Empower our celebration with your Holy Spirit,
feed us with your life,
fire us with your love,
and confront us with your justice,
and make us one with every creature on earth…
NZPB p. 470

How can we dare to pray that prayer together?

Dare we believe that God is in our world – in this material world?

Dare we believe that God is calling us to bring healing to his beloved world?

Dare we believe that we have the strength to take on this call?

Dare we believe that God will give us the Love that makes such effort imaginable?

Dare we believe that God will give us the Love that makes our part bearable?

This is my prayer for today:
that God will empower our celebration,
feed us with Christ’s life,
fire us with the Spirit’s love,
confront us with the call to justice,
and make us one with every creature on earth
that cries out for healing, for justice, and for love.

Preached by the Rev. Donna Ross at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church
Earth Day – April 19, 2015

Preached on March 8, 2015

Early morning in Galilee

The first chapter of Mark’s gospel ends with the story of Jesus’ first day of ministry:

Jesus entered the synagogue and taught the congregation… Then he healed a man with an unclean spirit… Then he left the synagogue and went to Peter’s home, where he healed Peter’s mother-in-law… When the sun set, crowds of people came to Peter’s home, begging to be healed, and then he cured many who were sick, and cast out many demons…. (Mark 1:21-34)

And now Mark adds one more sentence: In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. (Mark 1:35-37)

Even Jesus needed silence and peace – and one of the places he found that peace was the natural world. Perhaps he even went into the natural world to be healed himself – that is, to be put back together, to be re- centered in God.

Throughout my adult life I’ve often thought of Jesus’ own need for rest and healing – as a human being, how could he keep going without it? I thought of his need for rest as I served as a pastor in busy parishes; I thought of his need for rest as I taught young children in public school; but most of all I thought of him when I was mothering small children at home, day after day after day.

We all need the healing that comes from a loving God – even Jesus. And each of today’s lessons points to the healing that comes from God:

• Again and again, Mark’s gospel will show us Jesus’ compassion, his desire to lift people up, his power to heal: Now Peter’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up, and she served them. (Mark 1:31)

• The prophet Isaiah also speaks of the power of God to lift up, to heal: The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth… He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless… 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. (Isaiah 40:28-31)

As we Christians have learned the story of Jesus’ life in the Scriptures, seen the examples of his caring and compassion in his life and in the lives of his saints, we have learned of God’s compassion for human beings; we have learned that God is a God of love. But perhaps we need to look more closely at the Biblical story, because there’s another theme in all these texts: God loves the world. That is, God loves the whole world, not just human beings – and God wants to heal the whole world – this whole exhausted world.

Of course, for most of my life I have deeply believed that God loves the world – but Elizabeth Johnson, and many other modern theologians, have shown me that in the past when I’ve thought of ‘the world,’ I’ve thought of the world of human beings – we are the ones Jesus came to save.

But: What if God really loves the whole world?

These are primary themes of Elizabeth Johnson’s Ask the Beasts, which we’ve been discussing here on Thursday mornings:

• The Christian God is a God of love and compassion.…and God’s compassion is not just for humans – it is for the whole universe, for the earth and all its species.

• The world we live in – its environments, its species – is in need of healing. We are at a truly critical point in our planet’s history. The earth’s peoples are in need of healing – from disease, yes, but also from the harm we do each other. The earth itself – its lands, its seas, its air – is also in need of healing – mostly from the harm humans have done. As God loves the world, as God wants to heal the world, God calls us to work together to bring healing to the whole world – its peoples, its species, its lands and seas and skies.

• Both science and faith can guide us as we seek to heal God’s world.

Ask the Beasts begins: “This world evolved in all its splendor without human help. It was the context in which the human species itself evolved, and daily provides irreplaceable nourishment for human bodies and spirits. In our day the world’s future is in jeopardy due to human action and inaction, destructive behavior shot through with a disastrous failure of our vaunted intelligence and virtue. … This book charts a way to see that far from being simply ‘nature’ in a neutral sense, and far from being made only for human use, these living species have value in their own right.”

Elizabeth Johnson’s title, Ask the Beasts, comes from a passage in the book of Job. Job’s friends have been telling him that his suffering is his own fault. If he would just follow the prescription of their traditional religion and confess his sins, God would restore him to health. Job sees God as far more complex and mysterious than their traditional religion teaches, and so he retorts, Ask the beasts, and they will tell you – speak to the birds of the air, the plants of the earth, and the fish of the sea, and they will instruct you. (Job 12:7f)

But when we humans begin to ‘ask the beasts’, Johnson says, “this seems a simple thing to do: consult the creatures of the earth and listen to the religious wisdom they impart. Given Christian theology’s longstanding preoccupation with the human drama, however – and we are a fascinating lot – the invitation to consult the plants and animals asks for a change of method. We have to step outside the usual presumption of human superiority to place something else at the center of our attention.”  We have to shift to those parts of the world who have been silenced, or who have never had a voice.

Ask the Beasts conducts a dialogue – between Darwin’s theory of evolution in The Origin of Species and an exploration of the meaning of the Nicene Creed. (This month and last, we have been discussing Darwin’s theory of evolution – we’ll get to the theology later this spring.)  Johnson writes, “Darwin’s book On the Origin of Species gives full play to life’s natural character by charting its emergence through the interplay of law and chance over millions of years and thousands of miles. The Nicene creed witnesses to the gracious God who creates, redeems, and strengthens these same evolving species, grounding hope for their ultimate future. One scientific account, one religious testimony: my wager is that the dialogue between both sources – one in the realm of reason, the other in the realm of faith – can build a theology that supports an ecological ethic of love for Earth’s community of life.”

In our discussions, we are seeking to conduct a dialogue between science and faith:

• stretching our minds to understand the science explaining how the world works

• stretching our faith to understand a God big enough to embrace the whole world

And we are also singing a new hymn each time we meet, because our hymns reflect our theology – that is, how we think about God.  Sometimes a hymn can make us think about God in a new – and bigger – way, that is:

• stretching our image of God – beyond the box we keep God in

The contemporary poet and hymn-writer, Brian Wren, has written a hymn which speaks of God’s care for the whole earth.

Great Lover, calling us to share your joy in all created things,
from atom-dance to eagles’ wings, we come and go, to praise and care.
This is a God who rejoices in all creation,
a God who is lover of the whole universe, not just lover of humankind.
What is your image of God?

In the passage from Isaiah, God is above the world, looking down; acting upon the world.
In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is in the world, reaching out to us; acting within the world.
In the hymn, God is called great Lover and questing Spirit;
God is seen acting within the world, around the world.
How do you see God in your mind’s eye?
Above the world, looking down? Acting within the world?
Remote from your own concerns? Walking with you in the Spirit?
Sometimes with you, sometimes not?

Self-giving Lover, since you dare to join us in our history,
embracing all our destiny, we’ll come and go with praise and care.
God as self-giving Lover weaves in and through creation,
there at the beginning and with us all the way to the end,
joining the world in its history, sharing its destiny…
Our image of God will shape our image of ourselves.
How are you a self-giving lover? How do you care for God’s creation?

Though sure of resurrection-grace, we ache for all earth’s troubled lands
and hold the planet in our hands, a fragile, unprotected place.
Earth’s troubled lands could be the peoples of Syria, Nigeria, Central America…
It could be rain-forests steadily cut down,
mountains destroyed by mine tailings,
rivers and seas and sea-life choked by oil…
Which of ‘earth’s troubled lands’ do you ache for?

Your questing Spirit longs to gain no simple fishing-ground for souls,
but as life’s story onward rolls, a world more joyful and humane.
‘No simple fishing-ground for souls….’
Christians need to work for a more human world,
living our faith within this beautiful world God has made.
What can you do to make this world more humane?

As midwives who assist at birth, we give our uttermost, yet grieve
lest folly, greed or hate should leave a spoiled, aborted, barren earth.
Our image of God shapes our communities as well as ourselves:
We’re called to work not just as individuals, but as a community.
because there’s no way any one of us can do all the caring.
Working together, can we help bring a new world to life?

A homily preached at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church, Los Osos
March 8, 2015

Great Lover, Calling Us to Share

Great Lover, calling us to share your joy in all created things,
from atom-dance to eagles’ wings, we come and go, to praise and care.

Though sure of resurrection-grace, we ache for all earth’s troubled lands
and hold the planet in our hands, a fragile, unprotected place.

Your questing Spirit longs to gain no simple fishing-ground for souls,
but as life’s story onward rolls, a world more joyful and humane.

As midwives who assist at birth, we give our uttermost, yet grieve
lest folly, greed or hate should leave a spoiled, aborted, barren earth.

Self-giving Lover, since you dare to join us in our history,
embracing all our destiny, we’ll come and go with praise and care.

by Brian Wren – Copyright 1989 – Bring Many Names
Hope Publishing Company

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