An Evensong Reflection

Preached at Halifax Parish Church

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Halifax, West Yorkshire (England)

The Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul

Jeremiah 11:1-14 

Romans 13:1-10

“Love is the fulfilling of the love,” writes Saint Paul.  Love, “all you need is love,” I overhead whilst in Liverpool the other day.  Jesus himself adds a new commandment, “love one another as I have loved you.”  How do we fit in our need for God’s love with the ever-present and enduring state of sin in our lives, knowing that the sword of wrath is nearby?  Judgment is not a popular preaching topic in most Anglican pulpits in America or I suspect here in England.  It’s simply too uncomfortable; too impolite.  We hear the words and the commands to love one another, to love ourselves, to love God and God’s creation.  But we never get clear instructions as to how we achieve this in our every day lives!  Is it physical or emotional?  Is it simply spiritual love?  Or is it Eucharistic?

Jeremiah’s warning from God about the impending disaster to befall Judah and Jerusalem seems to collide into what could otherwise be a pleasant reflection about God’s love.  How does this fit?  Covenants and disasters are not the purpose of the Old Testament.  Unfortunately, many Christians take the approach that God in the Old Testament is a jealous god ready to deliver punishment on a whim, a God of the law, and then with the flip of the page, the God of the New Testament is the God of Love revealed in the person and work of Jesus Christ.  In fact the proper Jewish understanding of the Law is that the Law is freedom, the law is our delight—it is not a burden but rather a map to living in a loving relationship with God.    

The previous chapter in Jeremiah reveals that Israel has fallen by clinging to idolatry and worshipping false gods. There we read, “I know, O Lord, that the way of human beings is not in their control, that mortals as they walk cannot direct their steps.  Correct me, O Lord, but in just measure; not in your anger, or you will bring me to nothing.”  And now we read of God’s pending wrath. 

The connection in these two readings comes by simply looking into the center of our lives and seeing what we hold up as truth, what we worship.  Idolatry in the Old Testament would easy translate into today’s desires for more money, better appearances, and generally anything else that pulls our hearts away from the love of God.  God is always faithful, waiting patiently for us to respond to the invitation of love.  Just as Jeremiah says, we cannot direct our own steps, we need God’s help in our everyday lives.  When we try and walk alone, we follow our own will and not “thy will.”  That’s when trouble begins.

In this season following Pentecost, most commonly referred to as “ordinary time,” I prefer to look at this space before Advent as simply “Kingdom time.”  This is a time following the inauguration of the Kingdom where we are called to live deeply into its truths and live out its promises of justice, equality, and above all, love.   If love is indeed the fulfilling of the law, then we must open up our very souls to be flooded with heavenly grace.   Living in the Kingdom is not just about being good, it’s about living by God’s directives.  The latter day prophet, Mother Teresa once said, “at the end of our life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done.  We will simply be judged by 'I was hungry and you gave me to eat, I was naked and you clothed me, I was homeless and you took me in.’”  If there’s any doubt, then, as to what we are to do in our daily lives as Christians it is simply that. 

There’s a rather young hymn in the American Church with a simple refrain, “they will know we are Christians by our love.”  How we love and what we love are equally important to the Christian task.  In this morning’s Gospel, we heard about Jesus giving to Peter the power of the keys—the power to bind and loose on earth.  What strikes me the most about this is that we tend to bind more than we loose.  We bind out of fear, fear of the unknown, fear of the other.  We bind out of judgment—repelling those things that we see in the world that we know exist inside of us.  We bind and thus we ourselves are bound.  In light of the command to love one another as I have loved you, we should be persuaded to loosen more than we do.  We do this by love, we do this by mending broken relationships, standing alongside others in their battles with addiction and recovery, being a strong shoulder for a loved one who has recently been diagnosed with a terminal disease, or simply stretching forth our arms to our sisters and brothers living on the margins of the world.  We loosen those chains in our lives by relinquishing the power of our own idolatry.   When we honor the Christ in each stranger, we are in affect loving the Christ that lives inside of us.  We love and so let go of those things that really bind us, loosening by God’s grace and allowing the light to shine brilliantly inside of us.  

Then, they will know we are Christians by our love.

Practice Resurrection

Thursday in Easter Week, Year B
Chapel of the Apostles

Sewanee, Tennessee

Luke 24: 36b-48

**This is the second hermeneutic of the sermon, the part where I attempt to apply the text to the here-and-now.  If you would like to see the full sermon text, please e-mail me for a copy.

      
With this kind of living, loving, creative power alive in the world than the Easter life calls us to do something radical, something that does not compute in this world.  With fear and trembling we touch the wounds, we taste and see, and we live our lives in this new Easter creation, the Kingdom of Christ—where beauty, love, justice, and peace reign eternally.  Not only do we live in it, but we are called as stewards of the risen Christ to run it on his behalf!  We cannot remain static, for the resurrection bids us to do the unthinkable:  work for peace, free the oppressed, protect the environment, and live a life of forgiveness.

We say that creation is ongoing; to say this we must admit that crucifixion is also ongoing with many of God’s children.  Immigrant workers in our country who continually face discrimination; the working poor who no matter how many jobs they can humanly manage can never get ahead; Gay/Lesbian/Bi-Sexual/and Transgendered persons continue to be pushed to the margins of society; and all those who just don’t seem to fit our orthodox view of the world—all these and more continue to feel the nails piercing their skin.  Yet, if crucifixion is ongoing, then we must believe that resurrection of God’s children is not only possible but necessary, and necessary for us to work on their behalf.  Practicing resurrection is our response to the Easter life.  Practicing resurrection in our own lives is what Paul is talking about in 2 Corinthians 12 as God tells him, “my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” God’s power is made perfect in Christ’s resurrection and it is also made perfect in ours.  Practice resurrection.

God’s power is made perfect in Christ’s resurrection and it is also made perfect in ours.

The Easter life cannot be measure in economic terms of winners and losers.  The Kingdom of Christ, God’s Divine Commonwealth does not live under the laws of supply and demand.  If Christ is raised from the dead, than the world cannot be seen the same way.  If Christ is raised from the dead than we cannot stay locked and burdened in our own tombs; we cannot avoid the dead places in our lives anymore, we must face them with the hope that Christ will raise us!  Practice resurrection.

    

If Christ is raised from the dead, than we can no longer accept the inequality of living conditions among the working poor.  If Christ is raised from the dead, than we cannot accept starvation, pollution and raping of the planet for profit.  If Christ is raised from the dead, than we must reach out to our neighbors who continue to feel the pain of crucifixion in their lives.  If Christ is raised from the dead, then we can no longer live by thinking.  Practice resurrection.

    

So what do we do now?  What’s the answer?  We can live the Easter life and let Christ consume us in His Church and in the Sacramental grace of the Holy Spirit.  We do what we were created to do—live as images and likenesses of God working for the Kingdom all the while practicing reconciliation and practicing loving one another as Christ loves us.  We live to practice resurrection from our dead places and we are bidden to leave behind our tombs.  We live for the Kingdom and the new creation that has dawned upon us all, let us incorporate our lives into the blessed Trinity.  Thus in this new Kingdom, we may join with the Church triumphant and proclaim:  Christos Anesti, Cristo ha resucitado, Alleluia Christ is Risen.  Amen.

Running the Kingdom, An Easter Message

An excerpt from Bishop N.T. Wright's Easter Vigil sermon, "Living in God's Future--Now," delivered in Durham Cathedral.  Click here to read the full text of the sermon.

My friends are surprised by the fact that I actually like a lot of Wright's theology.  As a liberal theologian myself, I find most of Wright's conservative writings to be very clear in what he says--I appreciate that, especially given his Kingdom theology.  

"But the Easter message generates two other things which are quite new. Yes, we must live our lives from the coming future – but we now know much more clearly what that coming future is, and that gives particular point and direction to the people we are to choose to become, to the habits we are to choose to develop. And yes, forming habits of character is vital, even though it’s difficult, but for the Christian the all-important difference is that we don’t do it alone. We don’t develop these habits all by ourselves. We do it, basically, with the help and energy of God’s spirit; and we do it in company, all of us together. After all, the most basic Christian habit is love, and you can’t do love all by yourself.

 

"Let’s think about these two things for a moment. The resurrection of Jesus, the great fact at the heart of the Easter faith, means that we now know, suddenly and in a blinding flash, what our ultimate future will be. Our ultimate future isn’t just that we bumble along trying to live the present life a little bit better until one day we decay and die, and end up either in the grave or in a disembodied heaven or perhaps both. Our ultimate future is that we will be raised to new life in God’s new world, not only to inhabit God’s new creation, a world full of beauty and life and justice and freedom, but actually to run it on God’s behalf. That’s a solid New Testament truth which the church usually keeps quiet about, but it’s time to get it out of the cupboard, blow the dust off it, and see what it means for today. Running God’s world won’t mean, of course, arrogantly imposing our own will on it; it will mean being God’s stewards, and ruling with his gentle, wise love. To be Easter people, we are called to anticipate, here and now, that future vocation, to look after God’s world on his behalf, and to gather up the praises of creation and present them before the creator. Stewardship and worship, the practice of being kings and priests, are the habits of heart and life that Easter people must acquire.

"Our ultimate future is that we will be raised to new life in God’s new world, not only to inhabit God’s new creation, a world full of beauty and life and justice and freedom, but actually to run it on God’s behalf."

"Stewardship and worship take a thousand different forms. Stewardship means working for God’s justice in the world, for the health and flourishing of the planet and all who live on it, for God’s wise order and exuberant freedom to come to birth in all directions. Pray, in the days to come, about the ways in which God wants you to be a steward in his creation. That’s what you’re going to be doing in the resurrection life; start practicing now. Worship means celebrating God’s powerful deeds in history, in your own history, in your community; it means summing up the praises of the whole creation and expressing them, articulately and with understanding and delight, in the presence of the God who made you, loves you and has redeemed you. Pray, in the days to come, about the ways in which God wants you to worship him, where that should be, how often you should come to the eucharist, and how to worship in private as well. Worship is what you’re going to be doing in the resurrection life; start practicing now."

Morning Prayer Reflection: Christ of the Pow-Wow

Friday, March 27, 2009  

Daily Office Year 1, Romans 8: 29-39

Chapel of the Apostles  

'Christ of the Pow-Wow'  

Dancing with the sun in the azure sky,  

Dancing in the dark nights where no moon or stars shine,  

Dancing amid the pain and exhaustion of suffering our history,  

Dancing the red path that God calls our people to walk,   

Dancing on the prairie grass as the Spirit blows in the hot, dry wind,  

Dancing our way of life into freedom and peace,   

Dancing in death,  

Dancing in life.  


Nothing can separate us—no arrows, no bullets, no land, no water, no treaty, no  

reservation, no nothing.  

Nothing has ever separated us.  

The nations are bound together in love, Christ’s love—Cheyenne and Mandan,  

Lakota and Shoshone, Arapahoe and Blackfoot.  


In the Great Circle of the Spirit   

every nation, every tongue, every people  

gather to keep our traditions breathing and balm our wounds.
In the circle we dance, we laugh, we cry, and we rejoice in life.  

The beat of the drum, the heart beat of mother earth,   

the calling of the Chief of Peace unites us.  The sage smoke  

lifts up our prayer of praise, our hopes and our dreams for our children,
and blesses us in His presence.


The drum bids us to let go of our loss,   

to let go of our anger,   

to let go of ourselves and be united   

as one in love, inside the circle…dancing.    

Join with me and my great family,  

today shall be our dancing day!  

Come into the circle and dance.  

Come into the circle and know the Christ of the Pow‐wow. 

___________

N.B.  This is an American Indian exegesis of the famous Romans text. 

Morning Prayer Reflection: The Mirror of Christ

Monday, March 9, 2009, Feast of Gregory of Nyssa 

Daily Office Year 1

Chapel of the Apostles

The Mirror of Christ

Each night I sit in silence, in darkness, waiting. . .  

Each night I pray: ‘Lord Jesus, may I share in my body the pain 
you suffered on the cross; but even more may I know in my heart 
the love that brought you there.’

Never did I dream that this yearning would happen.    

Lent has always been too painful for me;   

everyday seems like Ash Wednesday.  

I don’t need the ashes to remind me that my twilight is harrowing.


But on this night, I woke to find myself stripped and barren,   

laden in the wasteland of exile.  

For what seemed like one long, never‐ending night   

would be driven into my soul for forty interminable days.


Pain, yes, pain was there.  He became my friend, my shackle,   

and my constant companion—  

never letting me forget him.  

Tears became like sandpaper to me.  

Never mind the cross whose splinters stick through me.  

Water was the mirage that kept me moving,   

yet that image could never quench my deepening thirst.  

The dark sky kept me warm and safe, but always alert.  


Here, in the desert of my mind, I admit my failures,  

my sin, my temptation, my human‐ness.  

I failed to live up to that which I thought I should be;  

the image in the mirror looked so beautiful, so perfect, so happy.
And now, that image fades away each day.  

I feel the pain, but where is your love?  


Why have you abandon me?  Save me!  

Give me a rope, pull me up please!  

Where are you?  

Was this whole thing a ruse?    

A cruel prank at my own expense?  


Where were you when my heart broke?  

Where were you when my life split wide open,   

and left me vulnerable to the world?  

Where were you when my burdens crushed me?


And silence. . . and darkness. . . and shadows moving.  

Somehow, through my numbness, I could feel the wind   

beginning to blow and voice whispered from the East:  


‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you.  

In the darkness of your advent I called you by name.  

You are mine, and you are loved!   

I have never abandoned you.  

I send you your daily bread!  

You think suffering and pain is darkness,   

but I say it is also light.  

'Can’t you see it?    

In your darkness you’ve regained your vision.  

In your darkness, I can turn your embers into bright flames of holiness,
flames that the daylight cannot reveal.  

Darkness is indeed light.  I am in the darkness too!  

In the shadows you learn your truth, my truth, and ours together.  

There you learn to walk with integrity,   

there you can soar over mountain tops into the clouds of the unknown.
But those scars will never go away,   

see mine and know their healing power!  

'The desert is a by‐way to your salvation.    

I am there.  I am there in the mirror.  

I have always been there.  

So come, come down now from the cross.  

A new day is rising.  

The dawn from on high is upon you.  

The best is still to come.’