Tending the Vine

An order of worship for this reflection can be found here: Bulletin-04282024 E5

Scripture: John 15:1-8

Let us pray: O Lord, in this most glorious time of spring as the fruit trees bloom and the cycle of life renews again, we bring to mind the bigger picture: winter fallow, spring growth, summer ripening, then harvest.  In all of it, there are times for pruning, too.  Speak to our hearts in this sacred time as we contemplate that you are the vine, we are the branches, and it takes tending to produce fruit. Amen.

Perhaps you are familiar with the argument that at the heart of the Gospel of John, a very Jewish book, lies a community of excommunicated Hebrews. Here were a group of Hebrew people who were following the way of Jesus, experiencing the Holy Spirit and all Jesus taught in such a markedly different way that they threatened the status quo. They had departed the accepted ways of perceiving their very Jewishness as governed by their religious leaders. It is likely the Johannine community were ousted from their local synagogues. But what happened?

Framing all of it was the very decisive reality of current events in the forty years after Jesus. I am not an expert in Jewish history, but it appears from the historical record that Jewish zealots, appearing around the time of Jesus’ birth had wanted to fight Roman control and bring back a politically independent Israel. Various bands of them had skirmishes with the authorities; but in 66 AD joined together as one to free Jerusalem from Roman control – and successfully did so not once but twice. However, Rome sent reinforcements and the Roman-Jewish war ended with the Jewish nationalists losing in 70 AD, Jerusalem burning, the Temple being destroyed, and many of the Jewish leaders either dead or fled.  In the absence of the Temple, it’s institutional leadership, traditions and control, what was left to pass on the faith was the local synagogue.  This marked a drastic crossroads for our parent faith.  Is it any wonder scattered pockets of Followers of the Way of Jesus flourished thereafter? From the longer view of religious history, Christianity can be viewed as a direct outgrowth of what was originally a Jewish reformation movement.  From our vantage point today, we see not only two but three world faiths based in the same Hebrew ancestry; Judaism today, Christianity, and Islam.

Let me back up a bit and remind you of a pattern first made popular by Phyllis Tickle in her book, The Great Emergence, available in our church library. As a reporter on the Emergence Christianity movement, she embraced the theory of Episcopal Bishop Mark Dyer who suggested that every 500 years or so, the Church reaches a fairly substantial crossroads.[1] The last one, of course, was the one that actually gets the title we are most familiar with, “The Reformation” of the early 1500’s, which usually means the crossroads of the Christian movement that main line Protestant denominations like our own grew out of. Every 500 years? Those with quick math skills may realize: Uh-oh; we’re overdue for another one. Since Tickle’s book The Great Emergence came out, further explorations into religious history have also proved the other two Abrahamic faiths also undergo regular periodic reformations.

Which leads me to wonder, if we are in a similarly situated time of a major crossroads of faith, what will that mean for our Church? If we take our layers of Christianity and its witness down to its very core, what do we find at its heart? How might we live faithfully in this time that Marcus Borg described as the “Age of Pluralism?”[2] One author has suggested we look backward a hundred years or so before we look forward. Generation theorists would concur with that time frame. Consider the following data from the Vibrant Faith research company:

“In the post-pandemic digital age, where the ground under our feet shifts so often we might as well live in an earthquake zone, the future of ministry looks a whole lot like its past…

A century ago, our society was rural, our churches were small, adolescence was a two-year apprenticeship to prepare for adult responsibilities, the church was merely an extension of the family, and parents knew it was their calling to teach their kids about God.

Today, our society is [mostly] urban/suburban, our churches are larger, adolescence has extended to a 15-year grind, the church automatically separates families into age-based learning groups, and parents expect called professionals or trained laymen to teach their kids about God.”[3]

I have to admit, when I first read that during my doctorate studies, my native Pacific Northwestern perspective antennae went up – I though the model described above had already perished in our neck of the woods.  If I were to rewrite the last paragraph for our post-pandemic context, I might say:

“Today a majority of leaders perceive our society to be urban/suburban; large church buildings are slowly becoming vacant, adolescence does indeed extend from 12-27 years of age, religious education professionals are becoming fewer and far between, and it has become increasingly challenging to excite younger generations – some of whom don’t even know basic Bible stories because of our 2-3 year pandemic hiatus from earlier models of Sunday School – into following their forebears into a Christian faith recognizable by those same forebears.”

I have to admit that is a very general – and contextual – “state of Christian Education in the PNW” kind of statement.  However, I also strongly believe all is not lost.  In fact the next 20-30 years are going to be extremely exciting on the spiritual front. What do we find in our own hearts of faith?  Do we see ourselves as fundamentally made in the image of God? Do we see all generations in all their different stages of faith development also fundamentally made in the image of God?

Recall in Celtic sensibilities, the Apostle John was the one who leaned back against Jesus at the last supper and heard beating in a flesh and blood Jesus the very heartbeat of God.  Recall in Celtic sensibilities, we all created in original goodness, even if tarnished by layers of life’s disappointments we still contain shining sterling silver souls planted within us from God at our birth.  Is it any wonder John’s gospel identifies God as both Spirit and Love?  God: whom Jesus embodied so well in human form that entire theologies describing him as the Son of God and the Son of Man have held sway for over two thousand years?

If we are indeed going to see ourselves – and all neighbors of all ages – as communally made in the image of God, it behooves us to live out the definition of what it means to be both Spiritual and Loving.  For in us, as in our Jewish spiritual ancestors, real life and spirit are inextricably intertwined in one inseparable strand of being.  Life might look very different as we continue into our post-pandemic reality.  Those who still choose the deeper journey of Spirit, of whatever kind that proclaims our unity as caretakers of God’s Good Green Earth, will find at the core of faith deep and abiding Love. For us, it might help us understand when we see younger generations actively living out the Love of God by service to the least of these, we are witnessing Christ’s hands and feet at work.  They may not see it as Christ working through them, they might only see it as Love. But, God is Love!

I wonder, what if the role of the ministry of the church is to make Jesus known by showing those who live at the crossroads of doing justice (that is, authentic action in the community), loving mercy (that is, showing compassion to all) and walking humbly (that is, understanding and accepting with grace our place) with God that Jesus is still here among us – and within us – after all?  What if tending the vine looks a lot like feeding the sheep?  Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches.” Let us, then, bear fruit worthy of the Matthew 25 movement of which we are a part.

May all glory be unto the one who lived, died, and rose again for us, even Him who is the Christ.  Amen?  May it be so.

[1] Phyllis Tickle, The Great Emergence: How Christianity is Changing and Why (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Books, 2008).

[2] Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith (San Francisco, CA: HaperCollins Publishers, Inc., 2003).

[3] Rick Lawrence, “A Blast from the Past” from Vibrant Faith, https://www.vibrantfaithprojects.org/.

Of Sheep and Power

Scriptures: Acts 4:5-12; John 10:11-18

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer.  Amen.

Originally today I thought I would wax eloquent on the life of sheep and shepherding in today’s sermon; especially with both Psalm 23 and John 10:11-13 in our readings.  But shepherding is actually hard, dirty work.  We’ve been reading the James Herriot books out loud at night as a family and occasionally watching one of the BBC episodes on OPB for fun. But real shepherding is not as pretty as a gorgeous Border Collie herding 4-5 pristine white sheep into a little pen during a picturesque trial set somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales in spring.

Actually, in truth, a friend of our family took a shepherding job for a spell in Montana. It’s a 24-hour a day job. She told us of sleeping in a trailer way out on a ranch in the middle of nowhere with four working sheepdogs and the various other things they were hosting in their fur.  Sometimes in the morning when she got up and went outside she would find the sheep had all disappeared beyond the horizon.  Then it was heading out to find them with the dogs – often in very uncomfortable weather as well. Is that how we behave in God’s eyes sometimes? Otherwise, why would Jesus use that metaphor? Maybe George Frederick Handel had it right when he composed, “All we like sheep; all we like sheep, all we like sheep, all we like sheep: have gone astray……”

All that to say, it’s a good thing that upon digging a little deeper into our texts for today another layer of biblical insight arose to the surface which I would like to address. How many of you are familiar with the controversial John Steinbeck text, Of Mice and Men? Some underlying themes in that book have to do with dreams, aspirations, and the imbalances of power. Hold that in the back of your mind as we examine today’s texts in light of last week’s scripture lesson from Acts.

Recall that Peter and John have boldly claimed healing in the name of Jesus, a lamed man was healed, then leaping and praising God in the Temple. They were arrested and put in jail overnight.  In today’s text, they are summoned for a religious trial. They are asked, “By what power or by what name did you do this?” The book of Acts, chapter 4 tells us,

“⁸Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, “Rulers of the people and elders, ⁹if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed, ¹⁰let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead.”

Commentator Barbara Brown Taylor writes that it is crucial we hear Peter’s sermon with first-century ears.  It is only in contemporary times that scriptural interpretation has been hung-up on Christian exclusivity. Peter is not speaking to Christians engaged in interfaith dialog; he is not addressing faiths outside Judaism, even. He “is addressing the authorities in his own religious tradition…defending himself within his own family of faith.”[1]

Luke’s transcription of Peter’s defense makes three incredibly brilliant moves. So brilliant one would never take Peter to be a fisherman, but would think he was as rigorously trained as a Scribe, a Sadducee or a Pharisee himself; which is all the more indication that indeed, the Holy Spirit has been breathed upon him and is speaking through him.

First, he reframes the charge against John and himself. A good deed has been done to a lame man, which he frames as an act of kindness. In ancient biblical society, acts of kindness are one way of building honor in the Honor/Shame social context they lived in. The second thing Peter does is redefine the charge. He doesn’t ever say he and John did the deed. Luke, the author of the book of Acts, recorded Peter using the passive voice in Greek, which implyies equating this miracle with an outside force of divine intervention. Third, Peter appropriates sacred scripture in his and John’s defense[2] when he deliberately mis-quotes Psalm 118:22: “The stone that was rejected by you the builders, it has become the cornerstone.”

Digging a little deeper, Commentator Rev. Dr. Tom Long notes,

“Notice how the issue has shifted. Originally the issue was healing, resurrection, and the mercy of God; now the issue [is] power. The inquisitors did not ask, “What is the meaning of these things?” or “How did they happen?” They asked, “Where do you get the power to do this? Who authorized you to do and say these things”[3] (emphasis added)?

Long goes on to say,

“There are two main reasons why power was suddenly introduced into the equation. The first of these is control. The author of Acts presents the religious authorities as jealously protective of their franchise on religion. They wanted people to be prayerful and faithful, but to do so under the exclusive banner of the temple and its protocols. The early Christian movement, however, was an outbreak of the Holy Spirit, spreading like wildfire. It could not be contained in the normal channels or regulated by rules and structures.”[4]

I am not sure if we can completely equate that to sheep without their shepherd, vanishing into the horizon. In fact, in full conversation with the surrounding texts, what we have here is a critique of those who are attempting to control spiritual freedom and power. Remember in the gospel passage, Jesus is the good shepherd, and the sheep know and hear his voice.  In the time of Jesus and the first century followers of Jesus, religious control was institutional Judaism, centered on the Temple at Jerusalem and its leadership, not on God and the work and witness of God’s kin-dom on earth.  Certainly not Jesus, who was a threat to institutional control.  It can be argued here that,

“The purpose of this passage is to announce that no human being or human authority can erect a religious tent—a temple or a church or a movement—and say, “Unless you come into my tent, you cannot have God.” God has acted on behalf of the whole of humanity in Jesus Christ, and there is “no other name,” no human channel, that can make exclusive claim to religious power—no denomination, no one theology, no sect, no franchise on the power of the Spirit.”[5]

Just to be clear, Jesus says, using the very name God used with Moses,

“¹⁴I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, ^… I lay down my life for the sheep. ¹⁶I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd” (emphasis added).

Did you catch the reference in here to us?. We are the sheep from another fold.  We listen and hear the voice of Jesus our shepherd, and recognize God leading us.  How comforting it is to know, if we listen carefully, we too will hear God’s voice in Jesus.

May all glory be unto the one who lived, died, and rose again for us, even Him who is the Christ.  Amen?  May it be so.

[1] Ibid.

[2] Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homiletical Perspective, Acts 4:5-12” in Feasting on the Word – Year B (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

[3] Tom Long, “Pastoral Perspective, Acts 4:5-12” in Feasting on the Word – Year B (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008).

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid

Misunderstandings

An order of worship for this reflection: Bulletin-04142024 E3

Scriptures: Luke 24:36b-48; Acts 3:1-16

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer.  Amen.

Happy Third Sunday of Easter! Last week we heard from the Gospel of John: of Jesus appearing among the disciples with his wounds intact, of breathing on the disciples so they might receive the Holy Spirit, and about Thomas missing the first visitation of Jesus but getting a second chance to believe.  In today’s text from the Gospel of Luke, we get the story again, with Luke’s own specific spin on it. Today’s companion text from Acts, also written under Luke’s name, jumps ahead a bit to after Christ’s Ascension.

In Acts we find the story of a crippled beggar’s healing. Biblical Commentator Rev. Dr. Thomas G. Long identifies three interesting things to take note of. First, he writes, “…[the crowd] misunderstood the source of the healing, assuming it came from Peter and John…. Second, they misunderstood the nature of life with God, thinking that brokenness is the rule and healing is the astounding exception….  Third, they thought that the healing called only for astonishment; but it calls for more, it calls for repentance…after momentous events, both good and bad, people are drawn to sacred places and to people who seem to have divine power.”[1]

As we begin to remind ourselves just what it is to be a Matthew 25 church and take steps to renew ourselves to this task of meeting the needs of the least of our neighbors and the whole community of creation, I would like to explore topics of faith formation and action in the world through the rest of our Easter Season – which if we recall from last week’s excellent sermon by Hillary, stretches all the way from Easter to Pentecost – 50 days celebrating and remembering that the Resurrection has occurred and Jesus is among us and within us.

Since Dr. Long had been one of my guest presenters for the Paul S. Wright Lectures at Menucha, I felt comfortable enough to write him about his observations in our text from Acts and ask a rather pointed question specific to our context of Pacific Northwest church reality in light of contemporary needs for healing the earth, its people, and passing on our faith to younger generations that seem uninterested in it. This was pre-pandemic, and I asked, “shouldn’t all young people be arriving in droves to both our actual and our virtual church doors asking, ‘Where are you now, God?’ Or perhaps asking, ‘Why, God, Why?’ Or maybe even asking, ‘How, God, How do we fix this?’ Or has it finally happened that the church is simply irrelevant to the lived physical reality of younger generations struggling to find truth and meaning in post-modern?”

Dr. Long wrote back with two nuggets that I’d like to share.  First, he suggested that congregations – which in his opinion are getting greyer, poorer, and smaller but haven’t hit bottom yet – need to learn to live as a “radical minority amidst a sea of secularity”[2] until such a time as the Holy Spirit sees fit to ignite another great awakening.  Maybe as soon as 50 – 100 years from now, he thought.  The second nugget Dr. Long shared was a story about what an Anglican priest once told him: The Anglican priest said he held daily prayer every morning in his church and that often he was the only one present.  “I feel,” [the priest] said, “as if I am preserving something valuable.”

Today, post-pandemic, after reviewing my thoughts about his observations, I would like to offer a couple salient points in return.

First, since completing a chapter on generation theory for my dissertation, I would argue he’s completely right about one thing; there will be another “Great Awakening” – they have proven to be a part of the cycle of generation theory in the past.  From my perspective, however, the markers are there for an exciting new serge of spiritual awakening to hit a bit earlier than Dr. Long’s guess – perhaps as early as 20 years from now or a bit less. The caveat being, it just might look really different this time around. Spiritual community might still be the driving force behind why people gather – but Church as many of us have known it is only one offering of community – and there are several other similar offerings cropping up, including Interfaith Café, which meets monthly, every second Tuesday evening at 7 PM.

Secondly, I resonated with the Anglican priest’s perspective; I think we, the Christian Church, truly are preserving something valuable – as valuable as rare heirloom seeds we might plant in rich organic earth, giving them all the choicest growing conditions we can – only to learn we must still “let go and let God” do the germinating, the sparking of life, and the slow growth to maturity, harvest, and the next generation as the cycle goes on.

Which brings us back to our contemporary contextual situation: We are a Matthew 25 church in our denomination. I wonder, what does it look like to offer an experience of God, an authenticity of Spirit, a genuine community of the faithful in our almost post-pandemic world? I wonder, what does it look like to wrap our arms around those in need and usher them to the table of God’s banquet?  I wonder, what does it look like today to embody the Gospel message: the gift of God’s presence with us and among us?  I wonder, how might we participate in and contribute to the next great spiritual awakening?  For it is coming, and some of us here today will see it bloom and flourish.

I will offer a third observation from some of my generation theory research. Contemporary spiritual seekers make meaning in life by pouring themselves out in ways that have a tangible result they can see.  Such as Corvallis for Refugees. Such as Stone Soup.  Such as the other ten organizations we challenge ourselves to adopt and support monthly throughout the year, either with funds or with our own hands, feet, and volunteer efforts.  Each time we do this, we more than represent Christ, more than extend Christ’s hospitality to our neighbors in need; we are embodying Christ!  And those we serve?  They are also Christ!  However, I wonder: do they see Christ in us?  If not, how can we make Christ more real?

Richard Rohr once wrote that God loves things by becoming them.  Not only thinking of humanity – and thinking of this month’s Earth Day coming up – certainly that includes the stuff of earth from which we are made.  After all, God fully entered into Creation – and humanity – and became one of us, one with us, one with the earth, with the process of living life and dying into death so that God could even love the emptiness of loss with us!  And still, Jesus rose again. And in the name of Jesus, healing happens.

From today’s passage in Acts, it was the name of Jesus that caused the complete transformation from cripple into a praising, leaping man of health.  He was expecting alms, but true faith came knocking at his door instead. Peter and John were simply the conduits for God’s Holy Spirit in the name of Jesus being set free to work the wonder of new life.  Like Peter, we can be God’s conduits, too.  Are you ready for that?  How do you know if you are?  Are there any pre—requisites?

Pastor/Commentator Jill Duffield one wrote:

“Fallible, more or less faithful, followers of Jesus gather together. Some are more in the know than others. Some are farther along the way than others. Some are more confident that [community gathering] will be meaningful than others. Regardless, they are together; and lo and behold, Jesus shows up, right there in the midst of them. He offers his peace, tells them not to be afraid, invites them to touch his hands and feet, and then asks for something to eat.

Bible study. Food. A small gathering of unremarkable people engaging with Scripture, telling the story of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. Listening. Wondering. Asking questions. Disciples made open to the possibility … that knowledge of God is joy…

We are witnesses to this. We know it by heart, in our hearts, because we have experienced this amazing grace firsthand. We know that we are to proclaim this truth so that others can learn and live too.” [3]

To which all I can reply is: Go and do likewise.  May all glory be unto the one who lived, died, and rose again for us, even Him who is the Christ.  Amen?  May it be so.

[1] Thomas G. Long, “Pastoral Perspective, Acts 3:12-19” in Feasting on the Word, Year B (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).

[2] Dr. Thomas Long, Email correspondence 2015.

[3] Jill Duffield, “Looking into the Lectionary, April 8, 2018” (Presbyterian Outlook subscriber list, email).  Accessed April 12, 2018, http://pres-outlook.org/category/ministry-resources/looking-into-the-lectionary/.

Easter Reflection March 31st, 2024

Scripture: Texts for Holy Week and Easter: Mark 16:1-8; John 20:1-18

Let us pray:

May the words of my mouth, the music of our lips, and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer, Amen.

Today I borrow words from the gospels of Mark and John, Avery Davis Lamb of Creation Justice Ministries and Ched Meyers, biblical commentator as we relive once again the story of Holy Week and the Resurrection of Jesus:

“Jesus’ improvised and hectic entry, on the back of a borrowed, unridden colt, through the native palm and olive branches being waved by marginalized people celebrating the peacemaker king, contrasts with the rehearsed and perfected military marches of the Roman Empire…”[1]

What new life can we breathe into this ancient story at the center of our faith?  What new insight can be gleaned with two-thousand years between us of the so-called progress of the human creature upon this, God’s Good Green Earth?  What other ancient and honorede practices might we be able to draw upon as we consider this panoplay that takes place on the streets of Jerusalem at the height of the Roman Empire?

Well, let’s consider it this way:

“… Jesus’ entry is an act of political street theater, an act of creative nonviolent resistance. This resistance is most clear in the Mark 11 account, when Jesus reaches the zenith of the city – the temple – and the anticlimax of the passage. Just when Jesus and the disciples reach the temple, where the disciples likely expected Jesus to take his place at the throne, they turn around and head back to Bethany in the countryside.

Why, at the high point of Jesus’ ministry, do the disciples turn away from the temple in Jerusalem and toward the countryside? Perhaps it’s the message that Jesus tries to tell the disciples again and again in the book of Mark: the things we think will save us are not the things that will save us. Jesus knew that we could not be saved by the machinations of the temple, which [variously have been] described as The Vatican, Capitol Hill, and Wall Street wrapped up together.

Instead of seizing power at the temple and attempting to use it for good, Jesus turned back to those things that will save us: the community of friends and the community of creation”[2] (emphasis added).

As for what he does after his street theatre performance – mocking the Roman Imperialists and offering his experiential teaching lesson correcting those looking for a military kingdom of Israel to be reestablished – those of us present on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday heard the story.  Jesus teaches instead of God’s love: The kin-dom of God in community, poured out for all – even including the enemy Romans.  To cement this, Jesus met with his disciples in the upper room to wash his disciples feet like a common slave, celebrate his last earthly supper with them and offer the words, “Love one another.” “You call me Teacher and Lord – and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you” (John 13:13-15).

We remember how Judas, one of the Twelve, left the dinner to arrange betrayal with the Temple authorities.  We remember from Mark’s gospel how Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane, which means, translated, “garden of the olive press.”

Perhaps some of you have even visited that very grove in a Holy Land visit, kneeling among those 2000 year-old olive trees that still stand today.  Can you imagine Jesus leaning down perhaps to pray upon an old stone olive press with wheel and groove which, to connect to the procession just moments ago would have been drawn by a donkey for the very pressing of olives into oil?  And we wonder at the weight of the world pressing down upon our Lord when he cries out “Father, if this cup can pass from me – but not my will – your will be done.” And then, the arrival of the temple soldiers and Christ’s arrest – Peter’s momentary fight and flight and the miracle of a healed ear that had just been severed.

Following at a distance Peter watches this new procession back to the courts of justice for the trial and lashings of Jesus.  Then his crucifixion. Darkness descends upon the earth, and the curtain of the Temple is torn into from top to bottom in the moment Jesus cries out and breathes his last.  What curtain, you may ask, and why is that important?  It was the curtain that separated the holiest of holies from the rest of the assembly, Signifying, of course, that with it being rent asunder, thanks to the self-sacrifice of Jesus, God is now accessible to all, not just the priestly cast.

Later, after discovering life has left his body, two secret disciples, members of the ruling class of the Sanhedrin come with permission to take away Jesus’ body and lay it in a tomb and seal it up with a stone.  Still later, other officials request a guard to be posted on either side.

And now, on Easter morning, a new light dawns bright, piercing the darkness as Mary encounters an angelic messenger, then the risen Jesus in the garden of the tomb.  Jesus instructs this beloved disciple to go and tell the others all that she has seen.  And she goes and tells the disciples, becoming the first evangelist of the good news of Jesus Christ.

As we contemplate this story, this central piece that began with Christ’s birth, the incarnation at Christmas and culminates with today’s resurrection, think of all the points along your own journey of faith that have led you to this moment.  As our Easter Anthem rings out, consider how you will take your next steps of faith, and embrace your vocation as fishers of people.    Amen?  May it be so.

For Benediction:

Resurrected Advent Waiting Poem by Scott T. Crane

For e’en as He did birth and rise,

So did mountains, earth and skies.

For e’en as He did live and breathe,

So does earth with rhythmic seas.

For e’en as He did learn and grow,

So do we through love – life – flow.

When ‘ere doth He yet come again,

Our hearts be true, our minds akin

To thee, O Christ Jesu, to thee.

[1] Avery Davis Lamb, “Reflecting on Palm Sunday: Cultivating Community, Creation and Justice” (Creation Justice Ministries and the Bangor Theological Center, email list serve, March 24, 2024).

[2] Ibid.

Why Jesus, Why?

Scriptures: John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Let us pray:

Now, O Lord, calm us into quietness. [Despite the excitement building for Easter, despite the gleam of petals unfurling with spring, this week of Passion still must be walked. It travels into paths of darkness. Yet,] take us to that place within You that heals, listens, and molds our longings and passions, our wounds and wanderings, and transforms us into a more holy human shape.  For it is in You that we live and move and have our being[1]. Amen.

Why did Jesus choose to drink that cup?  Why did he do it?  Why did he go to Jerusalem, knowing the plots afoot?  Why did he send Judas out to do what he came to do?  Why did he speak his last words of instruction and make new meaning of broken bread and shared cup? Why did he wash his disciples’ dusty feet? Why did he have to die?

Mother Teresa once wrote an answer to these questions, although I do not know if she ever once voiced or wrote the questions themselves.  These are my questions, perhaps many of our questions.  Not because we need to be reminded of the story, no, we have heard this story all our Christian lives, every year, year in and year out.  What I wonder is how can we move beyond the story into the realm of Mary’s devotion?  How can we, who are strangers to the customs and ceremonies of our spiritual Jewish ancestry appropriate these shifts of reality, these ascriptions of meaning in our post-modern lives so far removed from the Jewish Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread?  I would like to lift up the words Mother Teresa once wrote, and perhaps, just perhaps, God’s Spirit will speak into our own lives, too. I will quote, including the exclusive language she was most comfortable with. I pray God’s Spirit will speak into your heart with your most cherished words. This is what she wrote; The perspective is Jesus speaking:

I know you through and through – I know everything about you. The very hairs of your head I have numbered. Nothing in your life is unimportant to me, I have followed you through the years, and I have always loved you – even in your wanderings.

I know every one of your problems. I know your need and your worries. And yes, I know all your sins. But I tell you again that I love you – not for what you have or haven’t done – I love you for you, for the beauty and dignity my Father gave you by creating you in his own image.

It is a dignity you have often forgotten, a beauty you have tarnished by sin. But I love you as you are, and I have shed my blood to win you back. If you only ask me with faith, my grace will touch all that needs changing in your life; and I will give you the strength to free yourself from sin and all its destructive power.

I know what is in your heart – I know your loneliness and all your hurts – the rejections, the judgments, the humiliations. I carried it all before you. And I carried it all for you, so you might share my strength and victory. I know especially your need for love – how you are thirsting to be loved and cherished. But how often have you thirsted in vain, by seeking that love selfishly, striving to fill the emptiness inside you with passing pleasures – with even greater emptiness of sin. Do you thirst for love? “Come to me all you who thirst” (John 7:37). I will satisfy you and fill you. Do you thirst to be cherished? I cherish you more than you can imagine to the point of dying on a cross for you.

I thirst for you. Yes, that is the only way to even begin to describe my love for you: I thirst for you. I thirst to love and be loved by you – that is how precious you are to me. I thirst for you. Come to me, and fill your heart and heal your wounds.

If you feel unimportant in the eyes of the world, that matters not at all. For me, there is no one any more important in the entire world than you. I thirst for you. Open to me, come to me, thirst for me, give me your life – and I will prove to you how important you are to my heart.

No matter how far you may wander, no matter how often you forget me, no matter how many crosses you may bear in this life, there is one thing I want you to remember always, one thing that will never change. I thirst for you – just as you are. You don’t need to change to believe in my love, for it will be your belief in my love that will change you. You forget me, and yet I am seeking you every moment of the day – standing at the door of your heart, and knocking.

Do you find this hard to believe? Then look at the cross, look at my heart that was pierced for you. Have you not understood my cross?  Then listen again to the words I spoke there – for they tell you clearly why I endured all this for you: I thirst (John 19:28). Yes, I thirst for you – as the rest of the Psalm verse which I was praying says of me: “I looked for love, and I found none” (Psalm 69:20).

All your life I have been looking for your love – I have never stopped seeking to love and be loved by you. You have tried many other things in your search for happiness; why not try opening your heart to me, right now, more than you ever have before.

Whenever you do open the door of your heart, whenever you come close enough, you will hear me say to you again and again, not in mere human words but in spirit: “No matter what you have done, I love you for your own sake.”

Come to me with your misery and your sins, with your trouble and needs, and with all your longing to be loved. I stand at the door of your heart and knock. Open to me, for I thirst for you.[2]

With this letter, I pray we begin to understand the why, and perhaps learn a little more about the depth of God’s love for us.  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts on this devotion be acceptable to you, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen? May it be so.

[1] Adapted from “Calm Me into a Quietness” by Ted Loder, Guerillas of Grace (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fo­rtress Press, 2005), 27.

[2]Mother Teresa, “I Thirst for You” in Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2005), 186-189.

Notes for Musica para Litúrgica

An order of worship for this reflection can be downloaded here: Bulletin-03-24-2024 Palm Sunday YB

Scriptures: Various text depicting Peter’s journey of faith

Let us pray:

May the words of my mouth, the music of our lips, and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer, Amen.

On occasion I have been known to offer alternative methods of proclamation rather than traditional sermons. I believe the last two occasions I have offered for you were June Shaub’s painting of the raising of Lazarus and my characterization of the risen Lazarus last year at about this time; and then my first Advent and Christmas season with you I offered a portion of a musical setting I had arranged for piano. Today is another one of those times I will offer something a little different.

During Lent we have been following various stories that centered around Peter as the main character.  We’ve explored a little of the stories he appears in through the gospels and considered how his journey as a disciple reflects our own journey as contemporary post-modern Christian disciples.  Peter had ups and downs, brilliant affirmations of who Christ was – and is – as well as the times when he misinterpreted or tried to appropriate the ministry and movement of Jesus’s chosen path to fit his own hopes instead of relinquishing control to allow for Christ to lead in all things. Perhaps, like me, you have found parallel points in your journey of faith to match the struggles Peter underwent in his journey.

This morning I am adding a few more stories to round out the picture of some of what Peter experienced as he followed Jesus around for what were the most impactful and transformative three years of Peter’s life.  To begin, I invite you to sing a song of preparation with me as we consider that our own lives, our own bodies, are built for becoming vessels of God’s love.  Peter came to this understanding late in life – in a mid-life crisis moment we explored on his fishing boat when Jesus directed his partners to cast their net and their boat overflowed with fish.  Jesus ultimately changes the course of Peter’s life from fisherman to fisher of people. To reach Peter’s new calling required Peter to see himself in a new light.  So I invite you to sing both “Sanctuary” and “I Exalt Thee” with me.

I’d like to return for a moment and imaginatively enter into Peter’s mind in an attempt to understand his transformation from fisherman to disciple.  As in all things that are born from God’s love poured out through Jesus, Peter has to come to this understanding through the struggle of change.  Listen, as this next song explores Peter’s midlife crisis moment.  (The Love of God)

Later, again in the fishing boat on the Sea of Galilee, Peter and the disciples experience a great storm and Jesus walks to them through the storm on the water.  They cry, “it is a ghost!” But Jesus calms them saying, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter wonders and boldly asks him to prove himself by having him get out and walk on the water to Jesus.  Jesus said, “Come.” And Peter began to walk on the water to him, only to be distracted by the waves and the wind and call out for salvation as he began to sink.  Jesus helps him into the boat, and the wind ceases.  The disciples and Peter worship him in amazement, exclaiming “Truly you are the Son of God.” Perhaps, some of their awe-filled wonder and worship can be understood through the feelings evoked by these next two songs, “Lord, You Are More Precious than Silver” and “Singing Alleluia,” sung back to back.  If you know them or as soon as you pick the melody up, please join in singing together.

Finally, there are additional stories from the gospels that bring Peter, James, and John together as an “inner circle” of disciples. They are present for all of the miracles of Jesus, but two in particular stand out as poignant for their journey of faith.  Jesus begins his ministry with physical miracles affecting real observable life situations.  In this final listening song, I explore a few of those stories, imaginatively wondering what it might have been like to experience them through Peter’s eyes. Peter is present when those who are sick are healed, those who have been lame stand up and walk- even leap for joy praising God.  Peter is present for the raising of Tabitha, Jairus’ daughter, and for the miraculous feeding of the thousands.

Then comes Peter’s trials – he follows Jesus and the soldiers who arrest him to the courtyard and watches as Jesus is led away.  He denies knowing Jesus three times and hears the rooster crow.  We can only imagine what he did and where he went after that moment. Perhaps wandering aimlessly through the streets of Jerusalem deeply lost in thought, crushed in spirit. Then, gathering with the others in an upper room to await to see if their memory of Jesus promising to rise again comes true.

(Peter’s Story)

Now it is your turn. Our turn. How do we witness to these miracles, these stories of our faith? How do we remain faithful in this generation, passing on our faith to the next generations? Your witness is no less important than the first disciples’ witness. In this we are alike, those ancient first followers and those of us alive in this present moment.  Be bold.  Be courageous.  Tell the story and invite others into the divine mystery of our God and the ongoing trajectory of salvation history.

May all glory be unto the One who lived, died, and rose again for us, even Him who is the Christ. Amen?  May it be so!

Lenten Evening Prayer: God is Love

Evening Prayer order of Worship for this reflection can be found here: Bulletin-03-20-2024 Evening Prayer L5 YB

Scriptures: 1 John 4:7-21

Let us pray:

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts on tonight’s reflections be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer, Amen.

Tonight’s passage finds us in the first letter of John, in scripture that has warmed my heart ever since the first time I read it.  This – this is the heart of the Gospel for me!  Taking the love of God which has been poured out from heaven’s throne and liberally dumped upon our heads and turning it into reciprocal action in the world.  In the glorious mystery of God’s Holy Spirit, we become God’s vessels, the jars where living water is turned into wine for the world.  We become conduits for God’s love poured out for others – this is what our calling is, this is the love of God enacted in our lives, lived out through us, poured out and running over for the life of the world.  As one commentator wrote,

“All things begin in love, flow from love, are perfected through love, and return to love. The centrality of love is a theme that pervades all of 1 John, coming to its highest point of power and simplicity in the little phrase ‘God is love.’ … More than power or even goodness, God is love—restless, creative, self-giving, opening, flowing out into the other, coming back in new wholeness. Love gives birth, John tells us, recalling the [gospel] text of John 3 and Jesus’ invitation to Nicodemus to be … “born from above.” … Believing and loving are the marks of the new creature, the one who is born anew in Christ.

Tucked away in verse 7 [of today’s text] is an even more sobering claim. We know God by seeing what God has done, but seeing is not enough. We know God in the fullest and most authentic sense only when the love of God flows through us. God is love; only the one who loves can know this love that is God. Love is not a concept, known abstractly. It is an action, lived concretely. It is not enough to remember Jesus’ self-sacrifice, to think about it, or even to be moved by it. We must live it. To know the God of love is to live the love of God.”[1]

When we submit to becoming instruments of God’s love, God can enact through us Spiritual healing in the world, and this communal activity grows the heavenly kin-dom here on earth in our present reality.  It begins with healing humanity – for in humanity we have broken beloved community over and over again.  It moves outward from there to love of the whole of the community of creation – for we have also been tasked to “keep and till,” that is, take care of, all of creation.  And what is nature but an outpouring of God’s creative love, incarnate in the real flesh and blood of all living things?

Three influential authors I have read agree that God ultimately becomes that which God loves.  I first read of this concept of mutual self-emptying love applied to the Trinity from Father Richard Rohr in his text, The Divine Dance: The Trinity and Your Transformation. Then in pursuit of my doctorate I came across both John Philip Newel’s texts Listening for the Heartbeat of God, and Sacred Earth, Sacred Soul.  Finally, I came across Eugene Peterson and Petr Santucci’s Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places: A Study Guide.  All of these agree that God empties God’s self in a continual outpouring of divine creativity, divine agape – the Greek word translated “love.”  Agape can mean love between friends – but it also means self-sacrificing love.  The author uses it explicitly as relationship and interaction between members of the beloved community. It is offered as a command of Jesus, referring back to the gospel of John, but it is also spirals back even farther to originate with God’s outpouring of love into Creation, Jesus, and each and every one of us made in the image of God. John makes clear that this command to love one another is grounded in the nature and being of God as love, and God as the source of all love.[2]  This love is not a noun, but a verb.

And what have we to fear in being loved?  What do we have to fear in offering to pour ourselves out in the name of love?  “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” Are we perfect in loving one another? No. But in God’s name we can still strive to reconcile with one another and begin again at the grounding of God’s love, and build all our relationships from there.  Thanks be to the God of Love, who reaches out to us in love through Jesus Christ, and teaches how to love through the impulse of the Holy Spirit.  O Lord, our hearts are listening, let our actions become one in your love.

May all glory be unto the One who lived, died, and rose again for us, even Him who is the Christ. Amen?  May it be so!

[1] Ronald Cole-Turner, “Theological Perspective, 1 John 4:7-21” in Feasting on the Word, Year B (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014).

[2] “e. Fourth Condition: Be Loving” World Biblical Commentary (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, Inc., 2006).

The Community of the Beloved

An order of worship for this sermon may be found here: Bulletin-03-17-2024 L5 YB

Scripture: Mathew 18:15-22

Let us pray:

Now, O Lord, calm us into quietness. Teach us about forgiveness, about the language of I’m sorry and the softness of sincerity. Teach us about abundance, about seventy-times-seven…Teach us about joy, about its contagious weaving and its soul-healing. Teach us about mercy, about open hands and deep breaths. Teach us about the dawn of time and the stars in the sky. Teach us what matters most.[1]  Amen.

         In the newsletter this past Friday, I offered a Jewish understanding of the number 7 – that it is a numerical symbol for the concept of belovedness.  So when Peter asks, “How many times should I forgive?” he knows the root of the issue is a move toward inclusion, restoration, and the community of the beloved.  So why does he ask? Is it perhaps something – or someone – in his life that has been a repeated offender, wounding him at his most vulnerable place that he has in mind?  We do not know, as scripture doesn’t tell us the particulars concerning the context of his question.  However, we might draw on our own collective memories to find what – or whom – we could equate to such a scenario.

         Jesus takes the number seven, belovedness, much farther. Seventy-times seven.  It is not about how many times, mathematically we reach out toward another to initiate restoration of a broken relationship, it is about what it takes to restore brokenness to wholeness and to rest in beloved community together – with all parties involved. It is extremely crucial to understand the difference between offense – even repeated offense – and abuse. Forgiving over and over again the same kinds of transgressions imparted upon us leads to victimization and abuse.  This is not beloved community. This is not restoration. This is not God’s love trying to make right that which is wrong. Beloved community is a two-way street. It is holding up to the light the need for full restoration before God, one another, and the whole community of Creation. It is changing and being changed. When all else fails, as we shall see, Jesus instructs us to treat the offender like a Gentile and a tax collector.  While this smacks of un-loving treatment of an individual; we also have to realize that human beings are finite. God may be able to reach out over and over to seek restoration to us – it is much harder for us to be that godly. I am convinced Jesus understood this.

         Charles Hambrick-Stowe reminds us that,

“Church conflict is nothing new; it has marred Christian community from the time of Jesus. Today church leaders often look to social science resources to “manage” or “mediate” or “resolve” differences among members. If someone feels that another member has treated her poorly, offended her in some way, she could seek the pastor’s counsel, which might include psychological insight into the behavioral dynamics according to family–systems theory.”[2]

Here I have to interject, if a pastor has that kind of training. If not, a caring pastor would refer such seekers to a professional who does – always with the goal of the greatest good. Hambrick-Stowe goes on to observe,

         “Such methods are helpful. In fact, Jesus seems extremely wise by these standards in the program he sets forth. Go first directly to the other person and “point out the fault when the two of you are alone.” If this is done in a humble, loving manner (one cannot imagine Jesus advising a verbal casting of stones), then perhaps confession, forgiveness, and reconciliation may occur. Failing that, if the barrier remains, a second step is to approach the offending person with “one or two others,” to benefit from outside perspectives and avoid misunderstandings or later manipulation of who said what. If the offender is recalcitrant, then it is time to “tell it to the church” for a public airing of the issue and resolution.”[3]

         The same can be said for non-church conflict – family conflicts are a prime example. In both instances, the church and the family, the goal is restoration of beloved community: a place where each member is cherished and respected. To reach beloved community, all parties transform the difficulty at hand into a mutual self-emptying offering of love, which we can see modeled in the life of the Trinity – Love constantly pouring in, out, and through back and forth between God and Jesus and Spirit – and ultimately, brimming over and spilling into our own lives, being made in God’s image. When we put God first, offering ourselves in humility to the Love that first made us, we too enact God’s mutual self-emptying love.

         But there is more behind why Jesus teaches reconciliation in this way. Pastor and commentator Jin S. Kim reminds us that,

“Western cultures tend to value technical and juridical honesty above all else, while Eastern cultures place higher value on the other person’s dignity. For the former, the “truth” is most important; for the latter, preserving the other’s honor is most important. These are the extremes that must be avoided and the tensions that must be navigated when seeking reconciliation. We first honor the other person by speaking the truth in love, pouring our whole selves into the process for the sake of our relationship and the community as a whole. It is only if we have exhausted ourselves and are unable to break through that we bring the conflict to others in the church, which is available as a communal resource of discernment and guidance.”[4]

         Eastern and Western, honor and truth – all for the sake of reconciling the beloved community and bringing together that which has been fractured from God’s intent for beloved community. Considering this leads me to ask in our contemporary times, what would it be like today if this teaching were to surface in the lives of Ukrainian and Russian families struggling to see the good in one another?  Especially if they have been conditioned into believing that “the other” is a danger and must be assimilated. What would it be like today if this teaching were to surface gain in the lives of Palestinian and Israeli families living in Gaza and the surrounding territory? The strife there is much older and much more embedded in ancient biblical history and interpretation of God’s promises to a specific people. But is the end product any differeing if both parties are seeking beloved community? In our own country and similar Western civilization countries struggling with ideological extremes, what would it be like today if this teaching were to surface among the left and the right, democrats and the republicans, conservatives and the liberals; in short all of the human-made dichotomous divisions that we have placed upon our well-ordered lives in an attempt to protect ourselves and keep “the other” at bay?

         Kim goes on to write,

“This passage easily becomes dangerous and abusive if it is interpreted in the context of either individualism or legalism, both of which can result in the attempted control and manipulation of the offender due to a sense of victimization. When reconciliation is pursued in a discerning community that recognizes the inherent interdependence of its members, then conflict can be brought forward to two or three other individuals within the congregation, often elders or pastors. If there is not repentance at this point and the conflict is beginning to cause grave harm to the whole body, then, as a last resort, it must be brought before the whole church.

         Finally, if the offending member still refuses to repent, submit, and be accountable to the authority and discernment of the whole community, then that person has revealed himself or herself “as a Gentile and a tax collector” (v. 17). Those who are no longer willing to be a part of the body fellowship should be loosed from membership.

         When we enter into membership in Christian community, we bind ourselves to one another with Christ as our head. Furthermore, the fact that we risk relationships with people outside of our own gender, nationality, language, ethnicity, or socioeconomic status is precisely what makes us Christians. The overcoming of such differences is what distinguishes us from the world, which organizes around sameness. We are not free fromeach other; we are free in each other. In other words, we are most free when we bring in the collective wisdom and discernment of the whole diverse body of Christ together.”[5]

If we strive for beloved community, would we become more one with Christ, one with each other, and of one voice, mind, and witness in the world for good?  I imagine, ultimately, yes.  Dare we risk the vulnerability and inclusion that is required? That is the challenge, and the charge. Pray we are up to it, for in today’s shrinking global human context, it may be that the whole community of creation – not just humanity – is at stake.

May all glory be unto the One who lives, dies, and rises again out of love for us, even Him who is the Christ.  Amen?  May it be so.

[1] Adapted from Sarah Speed, “Teach Me,” Wandering Heart Lenten Devotional (Black Mountain, NC: A Sanctified Art, 2024) 7.

[2] Charles Hambrick-Stowe, “Theological Perspective, Matthew 18:15-22” in Feasting on the Word, Year A (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[3] Ibid.

[4] Jin S. Kim, “Pastoral Perspective, Matthew 18:15-22” in Feasting on the Word, Year A (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[5] Ibid.

The Yin and Yang in Peter

An order of worship for this sermon can be found here: Bulletin-03-10-2024 L4 YB

Scripture: Mathew 16:21-28

Let us pray:

Now, O Lord, calm us into quietness. As move through this Lenten season, take us to that place within You that heals, listens, and molds our longings and passions, our wounds and wanderings, and transforms us into a more holy human shape. For it is in You that we live and move and have our being[1].  Amen.

Commentator Dale P. Andrews summarizes one of the main tricky issues in today’s text when he writes,

“The expectation of suffering raises problems for our understanding of God’s love and gift of life. This is the case for Peter no less than it is for us.”[2]

I am going to invite you to struggle with me in this passage today, for it is one of the hardest passages to wrap my head around in all of scripture.  It touches on roots of theological thinking as deep as sin, atonement, martyrdom, and Jesus Christ as personal Savior.  It reaches into all the historical doctrines of the church and struggles to make sense of big questions such as “why do bad things happen to good people?”  “Was the sacrifice of Jesus really necessary for our salvation?” And, “Are we really born in total depravity, sinners since conception?”

 As we have been following the wandering of Peter, we encountered last week his avowal to Jesus, “You are the “Christ, the Son of the Living God.” This week, Jesus says, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.” The table is turned on Peter. Again, in the words of Dale Andrews,

“Peter cannot perceive that suffering might distinguish Christ’s mission. Jesus’ response to him equates Peter’s refusal with a temptation from Satan. The temptation is to impose our will on God’s.”[3]

In the words of Charles Hambrick-Stowe, traditional theological understanding as handed down by the institutional church tells us:

“That Jesus must “undergo great suffering at the hands of” Jewish leaders “and be killed” (v. 21) by Roman authorities….{This] shows that he died on account of the sin of all humanity. Since his death brings the universality of sin into focus, the fact that he would “on the third day be raised” has universal significance as well. The gospel is not tribal but global: “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven” (Matt. 5:44–45). A faithful theology of atonement announces that Christ died for every person in every culture, time, and place. Forgiveness, God’s amazing grace, and eternal life are available to all who will accept it.”[4]

But what about the last part of today’s lesson?

“Astonishingly, Jesus offers crucifixion to those who would follow him. In a bold assertion of God’s boundary-crossing grace, Jesus takes as his logo the grim killing tool of the world’s superpower: “Take up [your] cross” (v. 24). If you want to follow me, deny yourself; if you want to find your life, give up your life.”[5]

Perhaps Peter suddenly felt the weight of the Christian world descend upon his shoulders the moment Jesus congratulated him and offered the disciples keys to the kingdom.  In the words of Asian American pastor and theologian Jin S. Kim,

“You have to hand it to Peter! How many of us would have the audacity to rebuke Jesus? Having just been given the “keys of the kingdom” with the power to bind and to loose (v. 19), Peter seeks to use his newfound sense of authority to bind Jesus! He clearly has a certain narrative in his mind about what it means for Jesus to be the Messiah, and Jesus is suddenly going off script. The Messiah is supposed to come and restore the Jewish kingdom by overthrowing oppressive empires, but now Jesus is talking about going to Jerusalem to suffer and die. So Peter steps in to correct and save him: “God forbid it, Lord!” [Perhaps peter was thinking something like,] “With my new authority I will not let you and the promise of the coming kingdom be destroyed! How could the Anointed One be tainted by suffering and death?” It is easy to shake our heads in disbelief at Peter, but has this not been the struggle of the church throughout history?

Again we hear Peter, “God forbid it, Lord!” [Or, perhaps Peter was thinking something along the lines of,] “This kind of suffering must never happen to you because you are head of the pure and holy invisible church. You cannot go through the tears and the sweat, the blood, and the muck of humanity, because you are God—you have to save us!” Now Jesus—who has just affirmed Peter’s testimony in verses 17–19—issues the startling rejoinder, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things” (v. 23). The tables have turned. Peter is attempting to protect Jesus in order to protect himself, but Jesus makes clear he is living into and reinterpreting his identity as Messiah by suffering and dying with his people.”[6]

The question remains for us, in our contemporary understanding as followers of Christ, how do we interpret this need to “deny ourselves and take up our own cross” if it looks like Jesus premeditates his own Roman execution and tries to invite his disciples into the same thing?  Our spiritual journey doesn’t end with our sitting on the electric chair or quaffing the drink of death with dignity for the sake and name of Jesus, does it? Isn’t there a different way?  The Way of Love?

In my own personal struggle with this text and with traditional doctrines of sin and atonement, I have turned more and more often to the Celtic stream of Christian Spirituality to find comfort and meaning that was buried and lost when the Roman mission won over the Celtic mission in 664 AD at the Council of Whitby. So I turn to that tradition now to find comfort and perhaps, a bit of hopeful understanding outside the traditional streams of doctrine.

         The first hopeful shift for me came when considering the Celtic understanding of sin.  We are not, as Augustine has informed Roman Catholicism and its heirs, born in sin. We are created good, made in the image of God, given life and breath on earth for a time, imbued with a divine spark of God’s creative love energy like a seed buried deep within us – this we find in our soul. Sin, in the Celtic mind, is a state of soul-forgetfulness.  Which simply means we have forgotten who we are and Whose we are.  The process of soul-forgetting comes through our experiences in life that build up layers upon layers of tarnish on our shining sliver souls.  Some of those layers we chose willfully.  Some of those layers are imposed upon us.  But the result is the same.  Our shining silver souls are covered up and cannot shine as brightly.

The second hopeful shift for me is by and through that particular understanding of our separation from God, redemption then is a restoration – it is soul-remembrance; meaning our ability to re-learn and re-member who we are and Whose we are. Jesus came to be our teacher and guide us through our soul-remembrance, embracing the whole of our fragmented selves and offering whole healing and unity with God once more. To use a word of the church, this is atonement – think “at-one-ment” – with God, one another, and the whole community of creation of which we are a part.

         Finally, using Celtic imagination, when I “take up my cross,” I expand the literal meaning to be figurative.  Perhaps a “disciple who ‘takes up the cross’ is one who is willing to surrender pride, ego, status, comfort, and even life for the sake of the kingdom of God.”[7] Surrendering any one of those is a good beginning, leading ever onward toward the others – and a deeper relationship with Jesus. After all, to become more Christlike means we acknowledge that, just like in Peter, we have a little bit of both – the yin and the yang – in ourselves.  Praise God for the goodness of God’s grace as we navigate the spiritual journey toward transformation of our very beings – from selfishness to selflessness, from being wholly self-centered to Holy other-centered.  This is the journey of Peter, even as it is our own.

May all glory be unto the One who lives, dies, and rises again out of love for us, even Him who is the Christ.  Amen?  May it be so.

[1] Adapted from “Calm Me into a Quietness” by Ted Loder, Guerillas of Grace (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fo­rtress Press, 2005), 27.

[2] Dale P. Andrews, “Homiletical Perspective, Matthew 16:21-28” in Feasting on the Word, Year A(Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[3] Ibid.

[4] Charles Hambrick-Stowe, “Theological Perspective, Matthew 16:21-28” in Feasting on the Word, Year A (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[5] Ibid.

[6] Jin S. Kim, “Pastoral Perspective, Matthew 16:21-28” in Feasting on the Word, Year A (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

[7] Ibid.

Salient Points

An order of worship for Evening Prayer for this reflection can be found here: Bulletin-03-06-2024 Evening Prayer L3 YB

Scripture: Luke 6:27-38

Let us pray:

Now, O Lord, calm us into quietness. As move through this Lenten season, take us to that place within You that heals, listens, and molds our longings and passions, our wounds and wanderings, and transforms us into a more holy human shape. For it is in You that we live and move and have our being[1].  Amen.

In tonight’s gospel reading, we are faced with a bit of yin and yang – that is, as I would interpret it, a bit of both good and bad.  At the core of the passage presented in this teaching is an understanding we sometimes miss in our culture of the victorious manifest destiny as descendants of Western civilization.  Our response to being struck is to fight back powerfully until we have become the victors and no one will ever hurt us again.  But the teaching Jesus offers in this text is not this response.  How is it different?  First of all, the listeners of this teaching are not victorious nor in power within the context of the life they are living.  To find a contemporary parallel to the recipients of this teaching here in our country and context, Jesus would not be preaching to us.  He would be preaching to Black, Indiginous, and other Peoples of Color living among us.  Jesus is teaching resistance maneuvers grounded in love to a subjugated people living under the rule of the Roman Empire.  To those, and to us, we are offered these thoughts from Susuan E. Hylen

“The listener’s generosity is modeled after the mercy of God (v. 36), and comes out of the same abundance. As [those] who [belong] to God’s kingdom, [they] can “afford” to give even to those from whom no positive response is expected. [They] [give] not from the position of one who is oppressed, but as one who already shares in the riches of God’s kingdom. This does not mean that the disciple’s actions do not have personal costs. However, redefining the disciple’s perspective on [their] position can also redefine the meaning of [their] actions in that context.

         Second, the act of giving by the disciple breaks the expected cycle of retribution. In a social context of reciprocal gift giving, the act of giving one’s cloak or lending without hope of return is not a futile action. The actions commanded here go against common wisdom, but they still reflect the social norms of giving and receiving that were common in the ancient world. Relationships were built on exchanges of gifts. Friendships were forged between peers who could evenly reciprocate each other’s gifts. While gifts were freely given, the bond of friendship created a desire to respond in kind to the generosity of the other…initiating the benevolent action may awaken in the other a similar response.

         Third, the listener[s] [give] with full expectation of repayment—from God, rather than the recipient. The expected result is a reward: “a good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap” (v. 38; cf. v. 35). The abundance of God’s kingdom ensures that the disciple’s good action will be returned. From the logic of those who exclude and revile the disciple, the actions described here make little sense. Resources are finite and should not be squandered on those who will not appreciate them. But from the perspective of one who has experienced the kingdom drawing near (Luke 10:9, 11; 11:20; 17:20–21), a different logic prevails. This one gives out of a great storehouse and expects good things in return.

When the teachings of the Sermon on the Plain are not grounded in the disciple’s identity as God’s child, they become an onerous list of ethical demands that do not further justice and wholeness. When [disciples] understands [their] actions as flowing out of God’s abundance, to which [they] [belong] and which belongs to [them], turning the other cheek becomes an act of resistance to evil that has the power to transform others and the world.”[2]

For us, who for all intensive purposes do posses come kind of power in the world, either by virtue of our race, ethnicity, gender, or orientation; the lesson becomes even richer when we consider – as those who mold society – what would it be like if we were to model all that we do on the Love of God?  What if we modeled all of our relationships on mutual love and affection always with the goal of the greatest good for the least, the oppressed, the marginalized, and the disenfranchised; even for someone like you or me, burdened as we are with all manner of tarnish built up upon us, as our Celtic forebearers understood sin to be?  We are still created good at our core. God formed us from the dust, and even when to dust we return, it is good dust, for it is of God’s good earth, and we can move into soul-remembrance for who and what we are – all God’s children of the world.

May all glory be unto the One who lives, dies, and rises again out of love for us, even Him who is the Christ.  Amen?  May it be so.

[1] Adapted from “Calm Me into a Quietness” by Ted Loder, Guerillas of Grace (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fo­rtress Press, 2005), 27.

[2] Susan E. Hylen, “Theological Perspective, Luke 6:27-38” in Feasting on the Word, Year C (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).