Acts 10:44-48
Psalm 98
1 John 5:1-6
John 15:9-17
In the book of Acts, there is an ongoing struggle about what one has to do to be a member of the community of Jesus’ followers. Peter and James and the church in Jerusalem are inclined to believe that one must be a Jew first before being a member of the church. Paul and his colleagues see it differently – gentiles need not first make full conversion to Jewish faith and practice before becoming members of the church. So we hear the text today: “While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles, for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God.” And Peter changes his mind.
After a recent discussion about preaching on Facebook, I am cautious about the use of humor in preaching – so think of the following as more of a footnote than an attempt at a joke. You may be familiar with the joke about the man newly arrived in heaven. He is met by a guide who gives him a tour of endless beautiful rooms, sparkling bodies of water, green fields and endless gardens filled with people interacting with joy and harmony. Then they come to an elegantly appointed room full of people enjoying each others’ company. The guide cautions the man to be quiet as they approach the room. They observe it silently for a while and move on. Once they’re far enough away not to be heard, the guide says “those are the Episcopalians, they think they’re the only ones here.” Depending on the audience, you might say those are the Baptists, or Presbyterians or the Fraternal Order of Moose, but you get the idea of this footnote. When it comes to what we believe in, many of us are certain that we’re the only ones who have it right and that we will be rewarded for it.
We become increasingly aware of the variety and diversity of religious belief and practice in which we function as a community of believers. Among some of our brothers and sisters in Christ there is still an insistence that we are right and “they” – that being anyone who believes different from me and those who agree with me are wrong. Some go so far as to say they’re really, really wrong and God is going to punish them for it. Others simply believe that it is their responsibility to set the wrong ones straight and get them on the right path. Like Peter, in today’s lesson from Acts, they may eventually be very surprised upon whom the spirit falls.
Krister Stendahl, a New Testament scholar who was a bishop of the church of Sweden and a Professor at Harvard Divinity School had some important words of caution about judging the truth and validity of religious beliefs and practices other than our own. He noted that if you wish to understand another religion you can only truly do so by consulting one of its believers. He cautioned against comparing the best characteristics and achievements of one’s own religion against the least admirable ones of another faith. Finally, he said - Leave room for "holy envy." Make an effort to recognize elements in another religious tradition or faith that you admire and wish could, in some way, be reflected in your own religious tradition or faith.
The days of Christianity as some sort of default assumption for our culture are over, and that may be just as well. Whether religion as such is in decline, I don’t know. People seem to be talking about it a lot right now. And although much of that discussion is critical of what has been the role of religion in public life in our country, it’s still part of the conversation. It’s much better to be the target of criticism than it is to be considered irrelevant.
We who gather here weekly and who do the work of this community outside Sunday worship have made a decision about what we believe and a commitment to the church to live according to the baptismal covenant. We sense the presence of the spirit here among us and each of us senses it as we live out the many aspects of our lives. Let us reflect with joy and thanks upon the presence of the divine in our lives and let us acknowledge with generosity that we share that presence with many and diverse others with whom it has the power to unite us in peace and good will.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Fifth Sunday of Easter
Acts 8:26-40
Psalm 22:24-30
1 John 4:7-21
John 15:1-8
This week my personal experience coincided with the lesson from Acts in today’s lectionary. I had someone come to me to inquire about being baptized. The conversation was friendly, but it included one statement that left me momentarily not knowing how to respond. When I asked “have you been baptized?” the response was “I haven’t been, but I’m a Christian.” For those of us within the church, our way of thinking makes that statement a contradiction. But apparently, there are those who understand it differently than we do. What I have frequently heard from people new to the church, or returning after a long absence is that when they come to the church seeking to learn or be included, the response is little more than a recitation of the rules and requirements that must be fulfilled in order to be considered or an explanation of all that they have done wrong in being absent from the church. I didn’t want this person to have that experience. So we simply continued to talk for a while. We left it that if she hadn’t visited on a Sunday by the end of this month, I would call her back to find out how she was doing.
The metaphor of the vine in today’s lesson from John’s gospel is a brilliant one for explaining the central ideas of the fourth gospel. John is determined that the reader clearly understand the relationship between Jesus and God. Its author is also struggling with issues of community – who is inside it and outside it, and what the consequences will be for that latter group. The richness of his metaphor and the clarity of his vision have made his words and ideas compelling to Christians through the centuries. The fourth gospel is full of quotable phrases like “I am the way, the truth and the life,” “nobody comes to the father except through me,” “ love one another as I have loved you.” They are statements that set clear boundaries; a community that embraces them is sure to be identified as standing for something specific and unambiguous.
But a lot of different kinds of things grow on vines – things as diverse as grapes, flowers, sweet potatoes, and ivy. My sense is that there are a lot of different kinds of spiritual foliage out there claiming to lie within John’s clear cut boundaries and making pronouncements about who is about to be pruned.
All three of today’s lectionary texts are about the importance of community for teaching and growing people’s faith and religious experience. I don’t think there’s any doubt that we uphold that ideal here. The church made it work relatively effortlessly for centuries. Our challenge now is to figure out how to preserve it within a larger culture, the presumptions of which are all about individuality, its expressions and demands. John points out the importance of the attachment of the fruit to the vine. The world we live in is focused on celebrating the variations in size and color of each grape and developing marketing strategies to meet their individual needs. The church’s way of doing things isn’t an easy fit with the expectations of a consumer culture. I can begin to understand why, when someone comes to one of my colleagues saying something like “I’ve never been baptized, but I’m a Christian,” his first impulse is to set that person straight about the traditions of Christian initiation.
What Philip does in today’s lesson from Acts may be an example for us. He looks for opportunity to bring a new person into Christian community. His spirit is open to the encounter with the Ethiopian. He makes the approach, but leaves room for questions. He responds with generosity. He realizes that the spirit moves others in the same way it does him. He allows its leading to move the Ethiopian to ask for baptism, rather than presuming to order the man’s spiritual life for him.
Human nature being what it is, those who are inclined to quote John’s gospel seem to focus more on the parts about the unproductive branches being removed and thrown into the fire. But throughout the gospels Jesus’ message has much more to say about the patience and forgiveness of God, both for those who do and do not produce good fruit. We and our companions among the spiritual foliage will always be tempted to express an opinion about the growth and productivity of others, but the gospel makes it clear that God will always be more generous than any of us can imagine. The communities we build ought to be guided by that ideal of generosity and acceptance, no matter what challenges we face in making that happen. Fear of those challenges may tempt us to build walls rather than opening doors. But, as we are reminded in today’s epistle lesson there truly is no fear in love and we can love because God first loved us.
Psalm 22:24-30
1 John 4:7-21
John 15:1-8
This week my personal experience coincided with the lesson from Acts in today’s lectionary. I had someone come to me to inquire about being baptized. The conversation was friendly, but it included one statement that left me momentarily not knowing how to respond. When I asked “have you been baptized?” the response was “I haven’t been, but I’m a Christian.” For those of us within the church, our way of thinking makes that statement a contradiction. But apparently, there are those who understand it differently than we do. What I have frequently heard from people new to the church, or returning after a long absence is that when they come to the church seeking to learn or be included, the response is little more than a recitation of the rules and requirements that must be fulfilled in order to be considered or an explanation of all that they have done wrong in being absent from the church. I didn’t want this person to have that experience. So we simply continued to talk for a while. We left it that if she hadn’t visited on a Sunday by the end of this month, I would call her back to find out how she was doing.
The metaphor of the vine in today’s lesson from John’s gospel is a brilliant one for explaining the central ideas of the fourth gospel. John is determined that the reader clearly understand the relationship between Jesus and God. Its author is also struggling with issues of community – who is inside it and outside it, and what the consequences will be for that latter group. The richness of his metaphor and the clarity of his vision have made his words and ideas compelling to Christians through the centuries. The fourth gospel is full of quotable phrases like “I am the way, the truth and the life,” “nobody comes to the father except through me,” “ love one another as I have loved you.” They are statements that set clear boundaries; a community that embraces them is sure to be identified as standing for something specific and unambiguous.
But a lot of different kinds of things grow on vines – things as diverse as grapes, flowers, sweet potatoes, and ivy. My sense is that there are a lot of different kinds of spiritual foliage out there claiming to lie within John’s clear cut boundaries and making pronouncements about who is about to be pruned.
All three of today’s lectionary texts are about the importance of community for teaching and growing people’s faith and religious experience. I don’t think there’s any doubt that we uphold that ideal here. The church made it work relatively effortlessly for centuries. Our challenge now is to figure out how to preserve it within a larger culture, the presumptions of which are all about individuality, its expressions and demands. John points out the importance of the attachment of the fruit to the vine. The world we live in is focused on celebrating the variations in size and color of each grape and developing marketing strategies to meet their individual needs. The church’s way of doing things isn’t an easy fit with the expectations of a consumer culture. I can begin to understand why, when someone comes to one of my colleagues saying something like “I’ve never been baptized, but I’m a Christian,” his first impulse is to set that person straight about the traditions of Christian initiation.
What Philip does in today’s lesson from Acts may be an example for us. He looks for opportunity to bring a new person into Christian community. His spirit is open to the encounter with the Ethiopian. He makes the approach, but leaves room for questions. He responds with generosity. He realizes that the spirit moves others in the same way it does him. He allows its leading to move the Ethiopian to ask for baptism, rather than presuming to order the man’s spiritual life for him.
Human nature being what it is, those who are inclined to quote John’s gospel seem to focus more on the parts about the unproductive branches being removed and thrown into the fire. But throughout the gospels Jesus’ message has much more to say about the patience and forgiveness of God, both for those who do and do not produce good fruit. We and our companions among the spiritual foliage will always be tempted to express an opinion about the growth and productivity of others, but the gospel makes it clear that God will always be more generous than any of us can imagine. The communities we build ought to be guided by that ideal of generosity and acceptance, no matter what challenges we face in making that happen. Fear of those challenges may tempt us to build walls rather than opening doors. But, as we are reminded in today’s epistle lesson there truly is no fear in love and we can love because God first loved us.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 4.5-2
Psalm 23
1 John 3.16-24
John 10.11-18
Psalm 23 has been a source of inspiration and comfort for centuries. The image of the shepherd in connection with spiritual leadership is an enduring one in the sacred writings of the Judaeo-Christian tradition. It appears in various parts of both the New and Old Testaments. It is an interesting coincidence that the lectionary offers us Psalm 23 and its words of assurance of God’s presence and providence as we contemplate the potential effects of an influenza pandemic and the ongoing world economic crisis.
The true historic context in which the Psalms were created is impossible to determine with any certainty, but it has been speculated that at least some of them were composed in exile. It is not difficult to imagine a poet giving voice to a desire for hope and consolation in a time of helplessness, alienation, sorrow and fear. It has been suggested that those who created John’s gospel and the three epistles of John in the New Testament also found themselves in a situation of helplessness, alienation, sorrow and fear. The image of the shepherd who offers his life for the sheep was a familiar one to the first century followers of Jesus who knew the Old Testament and it is not surprising that they wove it into their stories about him.
The passage from John’s gospel about Jesus as the good shepherd and the words of comfort offered by Psalm 23 have been taken by some as a motivation to put their troubles “in God’s hands.” I’ve never actually asked anyone who has said those words to me what he really meant by them. My sense is that one who speaks those words frequently imagines that human beings can figuratively hand over their problems to the divine with the expectation that God will sort them out and return the results promptly. Traditional teachings of the church emphasize our powerlessness to make ourselves righteous; they are filled with a strong sense of human sinfulness and the incompleteness of our nature. Such an outlook, coupled with images of God as generous and loving father have motivated some faithful people to take an outlook of moral passivity and assume that God can and will fix their lives for them. I would never say that humanity is free of sin or fully realized. But despite our imperfection, God has blessed us with the gifts of memory, reason and skill. Humanity can and has been characterized theologically as a created co-creator, doing the work that God has given us to do.
The genius of the leaders of the first century church was in transforming peoples’ perceptions of Jesus’ death. The idea of a crucified messiah was, as Paul puts it, a stumbling block for the Jews and a joke for the gentiles. Anyone who might have become a follower of Jesus was going to have to find a way to get his mind around it. The leaders of the early church made that possible by helping their contemporaries understand Jesus’ death as a noble offering of himself in support of a new way of understanding the world and as a sacrifice that renewed the relationship between humanity and God. That is the teaching that has come down to us. The leaders of the early church used the image of the shepherd – already familiar from the Psalms and the prophets to help people make sense of what they were teaching.
The descriptions we have of those early Christian communities suggest that they used Jesus’ teachings to change the way people interacted with each other. Within the community they broke down barriers that existed outside of it. Paul refers in his letters to the prohibition of eating meat sacrificed to idols. He’s talking about the ritual meals that followed the sacrifice of animals in pagan temples. The ritual of sacrifice and the distribution of meat from the animal that was killed followed a prescribed pattern that reminded participants of the social and economic pecking order in which they had a role. The rich and powerful received the most and the best along with the power to give the prescribed portion to those whose loyalty and service maintained their wealth and power. The ritual meal of Jesus’ followers was very different. At that meal the sacrifice was rememorative – it made a present reality Jesus’ redeeming death which had made new his followers’ relationship with God. The participants gathered as equals, beloved of God and shared equally the food which was distributed. That is how we come together each week.
We share equally also in the responsibility for coming to this table for strength as well as solace and for renewal as well as pardon. We may know Christ as the good shepherd whose presence strengthens and inspires, but we also know him as the one who sends us forth into the world to be shepherds ourselves as it were, to live as a people who know what it means to gather around this table.
I can’t tell you exactly how you might do that. In general I can tell you that we are called to be a people who live in hope rather than fear. In a time of anxiety as we are experiencing now, we can be realistic and intentional about taking the kinds of precautions that promote health and prevent the spread of disease. We can offer that sense of realistic precaution to those around us who tend to let their fears overcome their reason. We can also offer our time and resources as we are able to those who are in trouble – we can be the body of Christ – eyes that observe need and suffering, hands and voices that take action and inspire others to generosity. We can do all of these things with a sense of God’s presence and power – not as the one who fixes our lives for us but who empowers us to lead and offer support to others who are struggling with helplessness, alienation, fear and sorrow.
We are a people who know ourselves to be always, as the Psalmist says, in the presence of God’s goodness and mercy. As you go forth from this place, the house of the Lord, take goodness and mercy with you and offer them to the world.
Psalm 23
1 John 3.16-24
John 10.11-18
Psalm 23 has been a source of inspiration and comfort for centuries. The image of the shepherd in connection with spiritual leadership is an enduring one in the sacred writings of the Judaeo-Christian tradition. It appears in various parts of both the New and Old Testaments. It is an interesting coincidence that the lectionary offers us Psalm 23 and its words of assurance of God’s presence and providence as we contemplate the potential effects of an influenza pandemic and the ongoing world economic crisis.
The true historic context in which the Psalms were created is impossible to determine with any certainty, but it has been speculated that at least some of them were composed in exile. It is not difficult to imagine a poet giving voice to a desire for hope and consolation in a time of helplessness, alienation, sorrow and fear. It has been suggested that those who created John’s gospel and the three epistles of John in the New Testament also found themselves in a situation of helplessness, alienation, sorrow and fear. The image of the shepherd who offers his life for the sheep was a familiar one to the first century followers of Jesus who knew the Old Testament and it is not surprising that they wove it into their stories about him.
The passage from John’s gospel about Jesus as the good shepherd and the words of comfort offered by Psalm 23 have been taken by some as a motivation to put their troubles “in God’s hands.” I’ve never actually asked anyone who has said those words to me what he really meant by them. My sense is that one who speaks those words frequently imagines that human beings can figuratively hand over their problems to the divine with the expectation that God will sort them out and return the results promptly. Traditional teachings of the church emphasize our powerlessness to make ourselves righteous; they are filled with a strong sense of human sinfulness and the incompleteness of our nature. Such an outlook, coupled with images of God as generous and loving father have motivated some faithful people to take an outlook of moral passivity and assume that God can and will fix their lives for them. I would never say that humanity is free of sin or fully realized. But despite our imperfection, God has blessed us with the gifts of memory, reason and skill. Humanity can and has been characterized theologically as a created co-creator, doing the work that God has given us to do.
The genius of the leaders of the first century church was in transforming peoples’ perceptions of Jesus’ death. The idea of a crucified messiah was, as Paul puts it, a stumbling block for the Jews and a joke for the gentiles. Anyone who might have become a follower of Jesus was going to have to find a way to get his mind around it. The leaders of the early church made that possible by helping their contemporaries understand Jesus’ death as a noble offering of himself in support of a new way of understanding the world and as a sacrifice that renewed the relationship between humanity and God. That is the teaching that has come down to us. The leaders of the early church used the image of the shepherd – already familiar from the Psalms and the prophets to help people make sense of what they were teaching.
The descriptions we have of those early Christian communities suggest that they used Jesus’ teachings to change the way people interacted with each other. Within the community they broke down barriers that existed outside of it. Paul refers in his letters to the prohibition of eating meat sacrificed to idols. He’s talking about the ritual meals that followed the sacrifice of animals in pagan temples. The ritual of sacrifice and the distribution of meat from the animal that was killed followed a prescribed pattern that reminded participants of the social and economic pecking order in which they had a role. The rich and powerful received the most and the best along with the power to give the prescribed portion to those whose loyalty and service maintained their wealth and power. The ritual meal of Jesus’ followers was very different. At that meal the sacrifice was rememorative – it made a present reality Jesus’ redeeming death which had made new his followers’ relationship with God. The participants gathered as equals, beloved of God and shared equally the food which was distributed. That is how we come together each week.
We share equally also in the responsibility for coming to this table for strength as well as solace and for renewal as well as pardon. We may know Christ as the good shepherd whose presence strengthens and inspires, but we also know him as the one who sends us forth into the world to be shepherds ourselves as it were, to live as a people who know what it means to gather around this table.
I can’t tell you exactly how you might do that. In general I can tell you that we are called to be a people who live in hope rather than fear. In a time of anxiety as we are experiencing now, we can be realistic and intentional about taking the kinds of precautions that promote health and prevent the spread of disease. We can offer that sense of realistic precaution to those around us who tend to let their fears overcome their reason. We can also offer our time and resources as we are able to those who are in trouble – we can be the body of Christ – eyes that observe need and suffering, hands and voices that take action and inspire others to generosity. We can do all of these things with a sense of God’s presence and power – not as the one who fixes our lives for us but who empowers us to lead and offer support to others who are struggling with helplessness, alienation, fear and sorrow.
We are a people who know ourselves to be always, as the Psalmist says, in the presence of God’s goodness and mercy. As you go forth from this place, the house of the Lord, take goodness and mercy with you and offer them to the world.
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