July 25, 2010

Genesis 18: 20-32 + Psalm 138 + Colossians 2: 12-14 + Luke 11: 1-13

Those who say: “Lord, teach us to pray.” are not asking for a formula of words. A formula is useless if you do not know how and when to us it. Step into this scene that Luke gives us. The disciples have seen things they never dreamed of. They have seen this man, Jesus accomplish the unheard of. They have heard him open for them a future never dreamed of. They have seen him stand up to opposition and power without fear. They have heard him speak of justice, forgiveness, and love. They have also seen him pray and speak of his father. They want that for themselves: not the power stuff, but the relationship, the courage the confidence, and the vision. They know that it comes from his relationship with his father. When they say: “Teach is to pray.” They want more than a formula of words.  They want to know the secret of prayer or how to pray successfully. Perhaps not so much to get what they want, but rather to be what they are called to become.

Jesus has been calling them to a life of discipleship, and he calls us as well. That call would be frightening if we were to be in it alone. But he never asks that. He sends them out two by two if you remember how this section of Luke’s Gospel began. There is a partnership essential to discipleship. There are no “Lone Rangers” among the disciples. The only one who saw himself that way was named, Judas.

This is hard to understand in a world of individuals. This is difficult to grasp in a world that prizes individualism and disposable relationships. The private, isolated individuals who live a world of singular pronouns like “me” and “I” never get it. Their world of possessions, protection, and hoarding does not enter into the mystery of prayer as Jesus teaches. If you look closely at what he proposes,you must notice that it is all about pronouns. It never escapes me that this prayer has no singular pronouns. The very first word is “OUR” and that puts us in relationship. There is a mutuality assumed in this prayer, and it is the mutuality of discipleship. There is no hint of personal piety suggested here. It is all communal and corporate prayer. This is the prayer of disciples. Disciples request it, and they are taught this prayer together. There is no “I”, “Me” or “Mine” in this prayer, nor can there be such in the spiritual life and prayer of people formed on the way to Jerusalem.

This, my friends, is probably the one lesson about prayer that has never grown old in 2000 years. A relationship disposes us to prayer. A relationship expressed in the mutuality of these petitions. It is then a relationship that Jesus reveals here more than a verbal prayer, and he gives the disciples more than they asked for. This prayer is never better said, offered, and spoken than when it is prayed together – in your homes, and in this sacred space. This prayer is never more effective than when it draws us together as different religious traditions, as different people, as different families. Spoken alone, it is a promise of what is to come in the communion of saints, and the private longing we have to never be alone. Spoken together it is the realization of what Jesus has come to fulfill; the unity, the reconciliation, the peace and promise of the Kingdom that has come by his presence.

In ancient times, the words of this prayer were never shared with anyone not trusted and known to be followers of Christ. Catechumens were not taught this prayer until late in their formation, for the handing over of these words and this tradition was a sign of a deep and serious relationship as well as the mark of one who was to be known as a member of the family. It is not by chance or accident that we shall soon offer this prayer together beginning the Communion part of the Mass. Never more powerfully does this prayer accomplish what Jesus offered and what the disciples asked for than when it brings us to communion with one another and with the living, loving, God.

July18, 2010

Genesis 18: 1-10 + Psalm 15 + Colossians 1: 24-28 + Luke 10: 38-42

Luke the great story teller gives us one of his best today. On his way to Jerusalem, there is a stop at Bethany. Perhaps there was an invitation extended. Perhaps it was just a casual stop unannounced. None the less in a home where he is welcome, there is Jesus who always draws a crowd. Suddenly it starts. I cannot image anyone in this church who has not been there. Imagine yourself in the car with your children. It’s hot. It’s a long day. And then an angry voice from the back seat says: “He touched me!” “Mom, make him stop!”

Imagine yourself in the house. There are chores and it’s time. An angry young voice cries out: “She won’t help me!”  “I’m not picking up your stuff.” Imagine a few years later. The teen ager has left a wet towel on the bathroom floor again. You know script by heart. You are at work. Something you need is not ready because someone else has not done their part of the project so everything comes to halt and you want to tell the boss, but you don’t because you don’t want the trouble.

So here we are at Bethany which could be anywhere, and a perfectly good evening comes apart when the two hosting the party get in a fight! Can you use your imagination a little more? I can. I do. First of all, I wonder where is the brother, Lazarus? I have an idea that he saw it coming and was already out of there. He was probably tired of the two sisters bickering and was out with his buddies. It’s a good thing God did not choose me to be Jesus in this story because when the shout came from the kitchen: “Tell her to help me.” my response would not have been: “Mary has chosen the better part.” I would have said: “Tell her yourself.” “Leave me out of this.”  Poor Jesus, caught in a triangle. If he didn’t love this family so much, he probably would have hit the road. But he doesn’t. He stays, and it probably worked out just fine because we know that he comes back at least one more time.

This wonderful story that is so human and so real to us speaks truthfully about us: about our relationships and struggles to get along to share the work and share the space. It speaks about our response to the presence of Christ and the demand to be hospitable. It speaks about how we avoid confrontation; about how we expect God in Christ to fix things between us when we do not speak to one another. It speaks about how we take advantage of each other too; about how often we sit around and expect someone else to take care of things and never lift a finger to help.

But Luke did not write a Gospel to tell us stories about family life. We already know that. There is nothing to be “revealed” in this Gospel about us. I do not think Luke told this story to reveal something about a family in Bethany or any family in Norman, Oklahoma. If this is Gospel, it is about Jesus Christ. In a somewhat tender and human story something about the divine is being revealed, and it is this for which we just listen.  Herein lies the secret of this story. In a strange sort of twist, the guest becomes the host. The one who comes to be fed ends up feeding the others. It happens all the time with Jesus. Remember that wedding in Cana? It seemed that he was the guest, but he ends up being the host serving the best wine. Think about that.

The truth of the matter is; we are the guests here invited by the Lord. He wants to feed us with his presence, His word, His Spirit, His flesh. The Gospel simply asks if we can sit down long enough to eat; or if we’re too busy and have to eat and run, or maybe not accept the invitation at all today.

July 7, 2010

Deuteronomy 30: 10-14 + Psalm 69 + Colossians 1: 15-20 + Luke 10: 25-37

The culture and the society that is obsessed with boundaries and boarders is in Gospel trouble, says this powerful parable we know only too well. The priest, the Levite, the Samaritan are all boundary bound. So conscious of, so careful of, so obsessed with boundaries, they have lost the most basic relationship, their neighbor. The fences and rules with which they have protected themselves have denied them the dignity with which they were created: “Good.” That blessing, that affirmation bestowed upon us at creation goes now to someone else:
someone least expected, someone outside the boundaries created by God’s own people!
In as much as parables always reveal something about God, we must listen carefully to this too familiar parable first for what it reveals about God, and then for clues about how we might begin to unwrap or restore
the image of God within us.

So first of all, it is God at work in this parable. It is God who is neither interested nor impressed by what race we were born to or who our parents are. God is impressed when God sees God’s own character demonstrated in the life of one of God’s own creatures.
This is what makes GOOD: being like God.

Only after examining what is revealed about God in a parable do we begin to question what it proposes to us. That is not difficult for those open to grace, conversion, and the continual challenge of the Gospel. So having confirmed from the parable that God is like this Samaritan, we are invited to take the next step and look at how much like or how unlike this Samaritan is our behavior and attitude. In other words: we might begin to wonder how “good” we are.

The “good” Samaritan is not “good” because he does a good deed. His goodness is not in stopping and picking up the victim. His goodness is found in the relationship he enters into. There is more than a good deed here – there is a commitment that is ongoing and lasting enough to be there when he returns. This is not just a passing act of charity – this is going further than just passing out a band aide The man is going to come back and make sure everything is ok.

He doesn’t just expect the inn keeper to do take care of things – in a sort-of “Somebody should do something!” attitude. He accepts responsibility and in doing so a relationship is born. At that point, he becomes “good.”

The question raised by the person who started this conversation with Jesus lingers on as the parable concludes; but it only lingers for those who make, set, and limit their lives, relationships, and responsibilities by boundaries, fences, and anything else that sets us enough apart from one another to even ask the question. For the serious follower of Christ, it is a silly trivial question that makes no sense.

That Samaritan was himself an outcast marginalized man living outside the mainstream of the Jewish society of that time.
Perhaps that is why he was so sensitive and responsive to someone else being avoided and ignored by those in the fast lane of life.

It seems to me that one who really seriously follows Christ

is often going to feel like an outcast or outsider,
marginalized and out of the mainstream
in this consuming materialistic culture in which we live.
That person will be the first to be sensitive and responsive
to the sufferings of others who are left behind, avoided, and pushed aside.

The parable speaks powerfully to us about God and goodness. It raises more serious questions than, “Who is neighbor?” It proposes what it might be like for us to live together without the fences and differences we devise so easily to keep others from getting what we have and absolve ourselves from the relationships and responsibilities to which we are called by God who wants us to be good.

July 4, 2010

Isaiah 66: 10-13 + Psalm 66 + Galatians 6: 14-18 + Luke 10: 1-12, 17-20

The Gospel for today is full of interesting details that could provide the seed for countless homilies and reflections.
We have all heard enough about the harvest and the laborers over simplifying this text into countless vocation homilies as though Jesus was talking about seminarians and priests! These instructions could leave us reflecting upon an appropriate life-style for the journey to the new Jerusalem, and the details could occupy a Bible Study class for a month with the cultural issues of this time in history. But mentioned twice in this passage is the seventy-two who are sent two-by-two ahead of him to every town and place he was about to visit.

Two times is enough to get my attention.
In an age and culture of individualism and consumerism where people are consumed like products imported from abroad, we are more and more marginalized when we take seriously and personally the message of peace. We live in a world that is becoming estranged from Christian values even thought the latest round of political adds insist that this candidate or that is committed to values.
They never seem to tell what those values are beyond “family” values. Those same “value touting” politicians would be the first to make life more difficult for a single parent family increasing the cynicism and skepticism many of us have with talk about values. I always wonder: “Whose values?” The values of the Gospel are not easily confused, but they are very difficult to reconcile with the values of power and self-interest. Herein lies the challenge.

To remain Christian in more than name one must take a resolute stand against the commonly accepted axioms of this world.
Going with the flow, means going down the drain. Shrugging off injustice as though it’s just the way things are is participation in the victory of that injustice. To become a true disciple requires a demanding course of induction into the adult Christian Community.

There is no facing the reality of life in this world with the faith of a twelve or sixteen year old.

Young people not challenged, instructed, and informed are sacrificed to the idols of hedonism, and the creeping consumerism of our culture will consume them. It’s no wonder half of our young people are in bed this morning. Having learned nothing about their faith since First Communion Class they think this is all about them, what they can get out of it, and that somehow religion is a private matter.

There is nothing private about the Gospel.
There is nothing private about the Kingdom of God. The moment the Gospel is proclaimed,
the moment the Gospel is understood we move into a relationship: not a private relationship with God, but into a communion of God’s people. He sent them out two by two.
This was not for protection from violence and danger. It was because their credibility and their success rested upon their relationship and their working together. This will require that we continue work at developing a sense of solidarity held together by relationships with mature and exemplary Christians who represent Christ and his way of life. In this company and with this mission, Joy is unmistakable. Grim determination, dour isolation, and suspicious, tentative attitudes are not the consequences of discipleship with Jesus.

Now don’t think that Jesus stood there counting out 72 individual people. That is not what Luke is saying. That number is biblical short-hand for everyone.
Don’t think that Jesus waited till they were finished with their formation and passed all the tests of “disciple school”. They are only half-way to Jerusalem, and he sent them out.

He does not wait till we are “ready”. The sending comes along the way, not at the end.

The greatest challenge we face is not rejection or being laughed at. It is the risk of becoming grim, sour, cynical, defeated, and marginalized. The challenge is to let Joy in God permeate all we do and all we say. The prophet of the first reading today speaks to a people emerging from generations of exile. He challenges their sadness and their bad memories with the reality of God’s forgiveness and the comfort of reconciliation.

When those disciples returned to Jesus,
they were not whining about how hard it was.
They celebrated the fact that they could see the stranglehold of evil being lessened
and they were a part of it first in their own lives, and then in the lives of those they visited. People will be attracted to Christ and to our way of life by our joy, not by rules, regulations, and grim sacrifices. Our giving is joyful, our sacrifice is a delight, our service is an act of love.

All along the way to Jerusalem, we are and will be cautioned, again and again, not to get, but to give. Not to save up, but to surrender. Not to load up, but to let go.
And when we do, we will arrive in Jerusalem rejoicing.

June 27, 2010

1 Kings 19:16-21 + Psalm 16+ Galatians 5: 1, 13-18 + Luke 9:51-62

In Luke’s Gospel there is almost always some journey taking place. Think of that for a moment. In the first chapter an angel is sent to a town of Galilee, and Mary went into the hill country to visit Elizabeth.
In the second chapter Mary and Joseph go to be registered in Bethlehem, and then they go to Jerusalem to present the child. Just twenty verses later, they are going back to Jerusalem with their twelve-year-old son for the Feast of Passover where he has a significant moment in the Temple with the Elders. This pattern continues right up this 9th chapter perhaps to prepare us for more. The whole life of Jesus as Luke presents it is kind of Exodus,
an idea not lost on people of the Book. It is a journey to the Father which Luke often describes as being “Taken up.”

The Temple is always central and prominent. It only takes Luke 8 verses to get us there with an angel’s visit. Zecharia is conducting his rituals there when he experiences the presence of God and the ultimate theme of Luke’s Gospel unfolds: the Holy Spirit. This is the whole purpose of the Gospel for Luke:
to get us to the Temple, into the presence of God, into the Spirit. The Gospel of Luke ends where it begins: in the Temple. After Pentecost it is the first meeting place of the disciples and the place where Peter works his first miracle.

The “Peter” of Luke’s Gospel is the Church. We are those apostles today being led again to the Temple
to an experience of God’s presence and into Pentecost of God’s gifts and holiness. Our lives are nothing more than a long journey to the new Jerusalem. In the next several weeks as we move through the next ten chapters of Luke,
we shall be encouraged and instructed by the one who has made the journey before us.

Today the invitation is before us: Follow Me. Today Luke addresses that which most easily distracts us and most frequently becomes our excuse. He names obstacles that if left unaddressed will keep us from getting to Jerusalem. They are not difficult to identify Prejudice like the Sadducees – any hint of racism or prejudice
keeps us from completing the journey to the Temple. It leads inevitably to a rejection of Jesus.
As long as there is anything in us like what we see with those Sadducees we are not making the journey.

Revenge as we see in James and John – as long as there is any desire to punish or take vengeance on another for whatever reason, there will be no journey into the presence of God. Feelings of or desire for revenge are REBUKED by Jesus. That is the strongest Gospel language! Nothing can challenge the central place of Christ
in the life of people on this journey. Prior commitments offer no excuse. Half-hearted volunteers who set conditions for this journey are not going along to the Temple.

They look ahead, concentrate on the future never looking behind out of nostalgia or to see how far they’ve come, they just keep going forward once they set their feet to this journey. Let’s go people of Saint Mark. Let’s root out any prejudice or racism that lurks in our hearts. Let’s be finished with revenge and the anger that fuels it.
Let’s stop making excuses for not living a holy and sacramental life sustained by our weekly fellowship around this table and our celebration of reconciliation. Obligations to the silly things that crowd our calendars and daily lives;
that wear us out and leave us “too tired” as we often say in the face of our obligation and duty to celebrate Sunday Mass will not do. Let’s go to the place where we are fed with all that we need to finish the journey where we can stand free and sinless in the presence of God where the Holy Spirit purifies and anoints us. Miracles can and do happen in this Temple where we are healed where we can see presence of God where we can hear the Word of the Lord.  here, like Jesus who made it to Jerusalem; we too shall be “taken up”, lifted up, held up, and raised up.

June 13, 2010 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Samuel 12: 7-10, 13 + Psalm 32 + Galatians 2: 16, 19-21 + Luke 7:36-8:3

A story of extravagant love excites our imagination, stirs our hopes, and challenges our spirit. A Pharisee with a name invites Jesus to dinner, but obviously not for any reason other than the desire to watch Jesus or trap him in some way. The most common sign of respect and honor is absent: no foot washing. A woman without a name gets into the house somehow says not one word yet preaches a powerful sermon on love. The story has always left me wondering if this Pharisee, Simon did not set up the whole thing. After all, how would that woman have gotten into the dinner? Posing as a servant? I doubt it. Poor Simon accuses Jesus of not being able to see what kind of woman is there, but Simon cannot see what kind of man is there in Jesus. All caught up on externals, Simon is horrified that the woman has touched Jesus. Yet it seems to me that Jesus has somehow touched her in a way he cannot touch Simon.

In Luke’s Gospel this story comes just after Jesus has responded to the question of John the Baptist about who he is. The people have begun to think Jesus is the Prophet, and Simon the Pharisee is determined to show that Jesus is no prophet. The best prophet in the room is the woman. She knows who this is, and she knows what to do about it: Love, and show it! This woman has found healing forgiveness, and out of love she comes to Touch, to kiss, to wash the one who touched her heart and forgave her sins. She isn’t there to earn forgiveness by groveling on the floor. Her sins were forgiven before she got there because she believed.

The faith of this woman is the point of this story, Faith its consequences of forgiveness and loving service is what Luke invites us to see. Her faith freed her from more than her sin. It set her free from shame and from guilt. Once free from the power of that shame which is always hidden like a secret, she cares nothing for what others may think of her, ignores their stares and remarks, and comes publicly with love and joy to touch the feet of the one who set her free. This woman has believed that God is forgiving, And so, her love is great and her service sincere. She does not come to earn forgiveness by washing the feet of Jesus. That is not why she is forgiven. Earning forgiveness is not why she has risked crashing that party. She had come to believe that God who knew more about her than those Pharisees loves and forgives her, and so her behavior reveals the joy and the love she has because of her faith.

What a powerful lesson she teaches us here in Luke’s classroom. We act sometimes as though we do not believe that our sins are forgiven. We let shame trouble our hearts, and guilt isolate us from the very one who calls us to believe leaving us to look more like Simon the Pharisee all concerned with how things look rather than letting joy and love move us to service. She is moved by the love of God for her, moved to the point of risking ridicule, scorn, and the disapproval of others moved to service of Jesus Christ moved to touch, kiss, and bathe. The issue here, the challenge, the question raised is the measure of our faith? Is there enough faith in us for some extravagant display of love and service?

Enough faith to risk ridicule and disapproval by our love for Christ shown in service?
Is there enough faith in any of you young people to risk doing something with your life that might make others laugh? The truth of this Gospel is that we are all set free from shame and guilt. Our sins are forgiven yet we do not walk away from them because shame and guilt is sometimes preferable to service and love. It’s easier to hide in shame than take the risk of coming to the feet of Jesus in gratitude. It’s easier to stay in bed or go shopping than step through the doors of this church.

When the stares, the judgments, the name calling of others intimidates our fidelity, our generosity, and our service of anyone, there is no faith, no hope, and no joy. If we believe that our sins are forgiven by the death and resurrection of Jesus, we are going to be on our knees at this table where He still sits, and we’ll be wiping the feet of those the society of Simon has refused to honor and respect with care. If Jesus has truly touched us, and we can see who is present in our midst, then no ridicule will keep us from loving and serving.

June 5, 2010 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Genesis 14: 18-20 + Psalm 110 + 1 Corinthians 11: 23-2 + Luke 9: 11-17

Indiana Jones in the “Last Crusade” received a diary from his father with clues and a map for finding the Holy Grail, the cup used by Christ at the Last Supper. His father had been on a search for the Grail and had mysteriously disappeared. Indiana Jones, guided by the map begins a frantic search for his father. With the map, he sets out on his mission determined to beat an enemy to the Grail; an enemy who planned to use the Grail for evil purposes. It was the belief that this cup had supernatural powers to work miracles. It makes for a great story both as an adventure film, but also serves as chance to get something clear. The cup is insignificant. It has not power at all. What is in the cup matters, and what is in the cup has the power. More to the point, it is the Eucharist that is power, A power we might all do well to seek, but not for the power itself, but for what the power can do.

This day gives us the chance to make our own search, and this Gospel is our map. The power of God is not found in the Holy Grail but in the real presence of Jesus Christ whose blood is shared in this Eucharist. It is the presence of Jesus Christ in his blood and in his body that real power is found to work miracles.

There is a painting by Pacino di Bonaguida entitled “Tree of Life” hanging in the Academy Art Gallery in Florence. It depicts the crucifixion of Jesus on a tree, with twelve branches on which are hung circular illustrations of the significant moments of the Christ event. The top circle of the painting has an illustration showing a mother pelican feeding her young. This image is rooted in a pre-Christian legend that during a time of famine or draught, a mother pelican would wound herself, striking at her breast with her beak in order to nourish her brood and stave off their starvation. Drawing on the same ledged, Thomas Aquinas composed the hymn known as “Adoro te devote” and applied the image to Jesus “O loving Pelican! O Jesus Lord! Unclean I am, but cleanse me in thy blood, of which a single drop can save the whole world.” In every reading today this saving power of blood is celebrated.

In all of history there is evidence that blood is sacred and appreciated as essential to life and the exclusive property of God, the author of life. Because of this blood figured very importantly in the relationship that Israel was so privileged to share with God. While the Israelites were enslaved among the Egyptians, blood on the doorposts and lintels of the Israelite homes served as a sign of protection and delivered them from death. After being led to freedom and to a future that held out the hope of a land of their own, the people of Israel sealed their new relationship with God with the blood of sacrificed animals.

The implication of this action is that those bound to one another by this covenant of blood would rather die than breach their relationship in any way. History still tells us that the covenant was broken repeatedly, but God’s great and generous mercy renewed it again and again until one last time in Jesus Christ. It is our belief that this final covenant is the end and the best of all. With profound and dramatic simplicity, Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it and gave it, aware that his very self would soon be taken, broken, and given so that sinners would be blessed with healing and forgiveness. At every Eucharist, these words are spoken again as the action of Jesus is repeated leading believers enter into the triple dimension of Jesus’ life. This holy memorial is the source of our strength and unity, and the sustenance that feeds our faith, fires our hope and inspires our love. This act of holy remembering is charged with a challenge: those who are fed by Jesus and bound to him, to God and to one another through his blood-sacrifice are also taken by him, broken like him and given as he was so that others might know something of his life and goodness in us. If we do not want to be broken and be shared, we shall not be blessed, and ought not to take this cup which contains the power to work miracles.

May 30, 2010 at Saint Mark in Norman, OK

People who cannot live with the experience of not knowing everything have a difficult time with the Christian faith and experience of God. I think that is why some people are so marginal with our faith tradition which is so steeped in mystery, wonder, and awe. There is a young boy in our school who delights in performing magic tricks. He is already to show me another one. Something happens between us when he is finished with his performance. I always gasp in wonder and praise at his abilities to trick my eye. Then there always comes an uncomfortable moment when I think he wants me to say, “How did yo do that?” I never do say that partly because I don’t care, and partly because I want to respect his skills. I feel as though he has every right, even at his age, to know something I do not.

There is something in our culture that abhors not knowing. There is something in our culture that insists that if there is something we cannot understand science will figure it out and if science does not, then we made it up and it is simply a projection of imagination and it is not real. We are living in a time when “mystery” is simply not tolerated nor accepted as an explanation for anything. The consequence of this is that we come to the sacred liturgy with only one expectation: to get something out of it. Standing in awe in the presence of God, moved by the beauty of music and word, the smell of incense and candle has no place in our expectations.

Our public debates about the dignity of the human person always revolve around issues of choice, convenience and cost rather than around the unrepeatable and irreducible value of a man or a woman made in the image and likeness of God. And so, we do not look at one another or even at strangers with any sense of wonder, awe, or respect until we decide they don’t want something we have or may not take something we want. Consequently, we find ourselves in the quicksand of debate over immigration and health care. We talk of rights and privileges and entitlements as though the sum of a human person was just a number of chromosomes that can be reproduced in a Petri dish. No wonder, No awe, No mystery.

I enjoy reading mystery novels, but not to figure out before the end who did it. I enjoy them because they are involving, and they draw me into the adventure and relationships,the details, and the risk of wondering and imagining. The pursuit of the bad guy is consuming and involving. There is no rest until the bad guy is brought to justice.

The mysteries of the Christian faith are just the same. There could be a way of describing the Catholic religion as a “Great Pursuit.” There is no doubt that this religion is involving and consuming. It can envelope our whole life. These Christian mysteries tease us into pursuit and raise our curiosity like the little trick of that fifth grader that bring us to awe and wonder. After all, what’s the point of faith, of believing, and of trust if we already know everything there is to know? Happily we never get t the bottom of these mysteries. If e did, our faith and the religion in which we express it would be over. Removing a sense of mystery creates an artificial sense of mastry which inevitably leads us to look around and say: “Is that all there is?

We baptized believers in Christ have been brought by our baptism in a mystery. The beauty of the earth, a sunset, the ocean or a summer breeze, the beauty of a lover’s face or a child’s smile does not need nor require an explanation: only a response of awe an love.

So it is with God on this Sunday we call “Trinity.” The being of God is best experienced and named: a mystery. our minds in this age and culture want to explain and sometimes defend this God who is revealed to us as Father, Son, and Spirit. It might be better for forget figuring it out and put our minds to better tasks of solving more immediate problems. If we did, we might recover some of the wonder and we and sense of mystery that makes life and all our brothers and sister who share this live a lot more interesting, engaging an fun.

May 23, 2010 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Acts 2: 1-11 + Psalm 104 + Romans 8: 8-17 + John 20: 19-23

John says the doors were closed “for fear of the Jews.” That strikes me as a little odd since they were themselves all Jews. It leaves me wondering what it was they were really afraid of.

The absence of Thomas on one occasion would suggest that they were coming and going, so they could not have been too afraid of the Jews outside. It would be easy and simple to suggest that they were fearful for their lives because of their association with Jesus of Nazareth. But the Gospel accounts are not flattering about their loyalty
or the strength of their companionship. They talked big now and then, but when the crises came,
they were nowhere to be found.

I am not convinced that they were afraid of the Jews, or that they were afraid of what was going on outside.
I suspect that they had those doors locked to keep Jesus out. The women had already told them that they had seen the Lord. They knew he was up and around. Friends had come back from Emmaus confirming the story of the women. Wouldn’t it be more possible and even more likely given our human nature that there was more to fear than the “Jews” whoever they were. The “authorities” certainly had their chance. If they were after Peter and his friends, they would have taken them that night in the garden when Peter tried to turn the scene violent.

They probably feared facing the Lord more than anything else: facing their own failure, their cowardly behavior,
their failure to understand and believe, their failure to get started with what he had taught them and asked them to do. So, they locked the doors in fear even though or maybe because he had risen.

We could talk about the Apostles in their locked-up room all day, but all that does is leave our own doors locked against the risen Christ. Here we are, not much different from those apostles living with our fears that all too often keep the Lord locked out or at least a safe distance. Most of us are not really afraid of anyone outside.

Like the apostles, I think we are afraid of what will happen if we open up and let the Risen Christ stand before us.  We compartmentalize our lives and our faith. It’s like a lock on the door. We lock ourselves up avoiding the changes we know living our faith all day everyday demands. It’s easier to keep things in separate little compartments than face the changes living with the Lord requires. Church on Sunday – Business as usual on Monday is a locked door. Sometimes I suspect not coming to church is a way to avoid or hide from the risen Christ, it’s like sitting in a locked-up room. Refusal to consider a vocation, pushing the thought of giving one’s life in service and prayer for others is a locked door. Keep Jesus out, and I can do what I want.

This Gospel speaks of Christ breathing on his disciples. You have to get close to someone to breath on them.
In fact, it’s a rather intimate experience. This day we call Pentecost celebrates the fact that Christ can and does get through locked doors, that the Spirit of God blows where it will, and eventually even those hiding are going to experience the breath of God.

The experience of these apostles tells us that it is not a bad experience, and that opening the doors is a lot better than living with them locked; that facing the risen Christ and what he asks of us is not at all impossible, unpleasant, or frightening.  It suggests that even people whose faith is shaky, whose loyalty to Christ is questionable, who talk big and act small, who pray a lot and do a little, who cannot always be counted on when times are tough, and who are filled with doubts can still do something great if they are willing to face their fears in the company of the risen Christ.

May 16, 2010 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Acts 1: 1-11 + Psalm 47 + Ephesians 1: 17-23 + Luke 24: 46-53

The last two Sundays in John’s Gospel have found us at the table. There we feasted with the words of Jesus about love and unity, about receiving and the peace that comes from giving what we have received. It is a feast that stirs the human heart with hope  and a quiet joy that strengthens and builds courage. John puts those words in writing for a people at the beginning of an age of persecution standing at the threshold of violence.
The prayer of Jesus at the table sustains them and anyone else who faces trial and trouble with a faith made bold by the presence of one who promised never to leave them and one who had been victorious
after being abandoned, betrayed, mocked, tortured, and killed by the very people he cured, comforted, and forgave. In the language of friendship, belonging and love, Jesus describes relationship with God; and then suddenly he is gone.

Suddenly in absence there is presence: absence for those who would cling to the earthly Jesus as Mary Magdalene sought to do that Easter morning prompting his warning: “Do not cling to me.” and presence for those who continue to gather at the table to feast on what has been written, break and share what has been given, and experience the Joy of life in the Spirit.

It is this absence that provides this presence. Think of that scene at Emmaus. The discouraged disciples invite that stranger to stay with them. They sit at a table discussing what has been written. They break and share what they have been given and then suddenly there is absence, he is gone. But gone too is their sadness, their fear and discouragement. Because of a presence, they rush back to Jerusalem to share what their friends in Jerusalem have already discovered: HE IS STILL WITH US WHEN WE ARE TOGETHER AND DO WHAT HE SAID.

This 2000 year old gospel tells the story of Jesus’ return to God with images out of a 2000-year-old imagination
about where God is assumed to be in that first century mind. To go to God in their imagination was to go up in the sky.

That is why they went to mountain tops to pray getting closer to God. However we might imagine or visualize the ascension of Jesus, this moment begins his real absence. It is an absence that could cause fear and disappointment.  It is an absence that could cause discouragement and a loss of faith. Yet it is also a moment that begins his real presence. It is a presence found in relationships of love and service It is a presence found in breaking and sharing, forgiving, and healing.

This Feast today leaves us to wonder where he goes and where God is. Hungering still for communion, searching still for God, this feast brings us full circle, back to the table, back to what has been written, and back to each other. Clues into the mystery of where God is  start in friendship, in love, and in the human heart. The interpretation of those clues, the understanding of what they mean and where they lead begins in this assembly.
Here we gather week after week, as did those apostles, to remember, share, and review again what has been written. Here upon those present comes the Spirit, the Advocate, the Power, the Wisdom, the Courage, the Prudence, and the PRESENCE that leads us to victory and peace.

In the ascension Jesus passes over into communion with God and the wide gulf between the human and the divine is bridged now in both directions. What began at Christmas with God coming into human flesh is now finished with the human becoming divine.

I have always been fascinated by the detail in Luke’s Gospel which says: “He led them out as far as Bethany.”
We must not miss the implications of this behavior. He took them out of Jerusalem, out of the seat of power, out of their home, away from what was familiar and trusted and predictable.

He took them out of all that to little old Bethany where so many awesome signs and wonders had taken place. Bethany, remember is where Martha, Mary, and Lazarus lived. He still takes us out; he still leads us away from places of comfort, from places of power and predictability for one last word inviting us into his presence after which we can return with Joy to world that knows too little of it.