November 30, 2008 at Saint Mark in Norman, OK

Isaiah 63: 16-17, 19 + Psalm 80 + 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 + Mark 13:33-37

            Years ago, I was pastor at Saint Joseph Church in Union City, a place put on the map by a tornado that nearly destroyed the town just a couple of years before I came. Until the big one that tore through Cleveland County not long ago, it was the “big one” that everyone talked about and studied. Because of it, darkening skies and wall clouds as we in Oklahoma know to call them always got the attention of the survivors in Union City. I remember clearly the experience of standing at the back door of the rectory which opened to the southwest any time there would be one of those great Oklahoma storms. I would stand there and watch. If I were asleep, I would get up at the sound of big thunder and go there to look out because it was only a few steps to the storm cellar. More than once, I made the jump from the doorway to the cellar in rain and hail and wind.

            The memory of that experience of standing in a doorway and watching is my own, but I believe everyone in here has done the same thing. Standing in a doorway watching and waiting is something we have all done whether we watch for a storm or for a loved one to come home, we know what it is to wait and to watch, and much of it is done from a doorway if not from a window.

            We are somehow a people who seem to be found at a threshold, in a doorway, or at the gate as the Gospel image suggests. We are almost by nature waiters and watchers, and some of us do it better than others. We have shifted today into the year of Mark’s Gospel, closing for while the Gospel of Matthew. It is a Gospel that time and time again challenges the fear that haunts us as it tells the story of faith’s growth. This is the Gospel of calming seas, of casting out unclean spirits that frighten bystanders and possessed. It is the Gospel that brings people beyond fear to awe and amazement. Who is this that wind and sea obey him? Who is this that speaks with authority? Who is this who has come among us? This kind of awe and amazement is the threshold of faith; doors that when open invite us to move from fear to awe to trust and belief.

            Today’s Gospel speaks of evening, of midnight, of cockcrow or dawn, and believers make a connection with the hours of the passion. It reminds us of sleeping disciples who fail to watch. He wakes them and they sleep again. At midnight comes Judas and a crowd, and all but Peter run away in fear. No doorway to faith opens until cockcrow when Peter’s faith is awakened and he weeps. Then comes the fourth time: the “dawn”; the hour when Mary Magdalene and her friends stand at the doorway of death and find it open.

            Think today and through this season of the doorways in our lives, of the doorway in which we stand and the thresholds over which we must pass from fear and doubt to faith and trust. There are doorways everywhere through which we encounter one another and our God. Our houses have doors. Our offices have doors. The places where we shop for food and for gifts have doors. These are thresholds where we can be awake to one another.

            Think this Advent season of these hours:  of evening when we are tired and want to give up of dark midnight moments when our fears take us over           and we run from what is hard and difficult frightening and unknown. of cockcrow that hour when we recognize that there are things in our lives we profoundly regret, things we never thought we were capable of doing. Our tears and our sorrow make us real.  That time is a threshold to cross into forgiveness and peace. of the dawn, the hour of resurrection the time of waking. Across that threshold comes the faith that life can come where there is death, that dead relationships can awaken, that dead leadership may rise up to the agony of people in need, and that closed doors and closed hearts may break open with joy.

The Gospel we proclaim today ought to alert us like gathering clouds in the western sky. In these verses, Jesus gives three commands: Be on the watch. Stay awake.

Be on guard. An open doorway is a good way to watch. An open doorway is a good way to make sure that this time when Christ comes there will be a hospitable welcome where all will be prepared rather than finding the door closed because there is no room.

November 30, 2008 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Isaiah 63: 16-17, 19 + Psalm 80 + 1 Corinthians 1:3-9 + Mark 13:33-37

            Years ago I was pastor at Saint Joseph Church in Union City, a place put on the map by a tornado that nearly destroyed the town just a couple of years before I came. Until the big one that tore through Cleveland County not long ago, it was the “big one” that every one talked about and studied. Because of it, darkening skies and wall clouds as we in Oklahoma know to call them always got the attention of the survivors in Union City. I remember clearly the experience of standing at the back door of the rectory which opened to the southwest any time there would be one of those great Oklahoma storms. I would stand there and watch. If I were asleep, I would get up at the sound of big thunder and go there to look out because it was only a few steps to the storm cellar. More than once I made the jump from the doorway to the cellar in rain and hail and wind.

            The memory of that experience of standing in a doorway and watching is my own, but I believe everyone in here has done the same thing. Standing in a doorway watching and waiting is something we have all done whether we watch for a storm or for a loved one to come home, we know what it is to wait and to watch, and much of it is done from a doorway if not from a window.

            We are somehow a people who seem to be found at a threshold, in a doorway, or at the gate as the Gospel image suggests. We are almost by nature waiters and watchers, and some of us do it better than others. We have shifted today into the year of Mark’s Gospel, closing for while the Gospel of Matthew. It is a Gospel that time and time again challenges the fear that haunts us as it tells the story of faith’s growth. This is the Gospel of calming seas, of casting out unclean spirits that frighten bystanders and possessed. It is the Gospel that brings people beyond fear to awe and amazement. Who is this that wind and sea obey him? Who is this that speaks with authority? Who is this who has come among us? This kind of awe and amazement is the threshold of faith; doors that when open invite us to move from fear to awe to trust and belief.

            Today’s Gospel speaks of evening, of midnight, of cockcrow or dawn, and believers make a connection with the hours of the passion. It reminds us of sleeping disciples who fail to watch. He wakes them and they sleep again. At midnight comes Judas and a crowd, and all but Peter run away in fear. No door way to faith opens until cockcrow when Peter’s faith is awakened and he weeps. Then comes the fourth time: the “dawn”; the hour when Mary Magdalene and her friends stand at the doorway of death and find it open.

            Think today and through this season of the doorways in our lives, of the doorway in which we stand and the thresholds over which we must pass from fear and doubt to faith and trust. There are doorways everywhere through which we encounter one another and our God. Our houses have doors. Our offices have doors. The places where we shop for food and for gifts have doors. These are thresholds where we can be awake to one another.

            Think this Advent season of these hours:  of evening when we are tired and want to give up of dark midnight moments when our fears take us over           and we run from what is hard and difficult frightening and unknown. of cockcrow that hour when we recognize that there are things in our lives we profoundly regret, things we never thought we were capable of doing. Our tears and our sorrow make us real.  That time is a threshold to cross into forgiveness and peace. of the dawn, the hour of resurrection the time of waking. Across that threshold comes the faith that life can come where there is death, that dead relationships can awaken, that dead leadership may rise up to the agony of people in need, and that closed doors and closed hearts may break open with joy.

The Gospel we proclaim today ought to alert us like gathering clouds in the western sky. In these verses, Jesus gives three commands: Be on the watch. Stay awake.

Be on guard. An open doorway is a good way to watch. An open doorway is a good way to make sure that this time when Christ comes there will be a hospitable welcome where all will be prepared rather than finding the door closed because there is no room.

Ordinary time 32 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

November 9, 2008

Ezekiel 47:1-2,8-9,12 + Psalm 46 + 1 Corinthians 3:9-11,16-17 + John 2:13-22

In John’s Gospel, the first of seven signs has just been revealed at Cana’s wedding feast, and the verses we proclaim today come as a simple reflection on the sign we have just been given. As the water is replaced by wine, now we see the Temple and its worship being replaced by Jesus. He is the center. He replaces the water with himself and the temple with his presence. It is an important thing to see as the western church celebrates this Feast today with the memory of our most ancient church’s dedication in Rome.

Yet this is never about Constantine’s gift Basilica on the Lateran Hill. It is not about the Cathedral of Rome no matter how lovely it is today and how significant it is with its history and it great baptistry.  That building standing today has been in ruins more than once. The fact that the Pope now lives across the river on the Vatican hill rather than at this historical place of beginnings is a reminder that it was once uninhabitable. This feast is about Christ Jesus and His enduring presence among us, and the first name of this building that gives reason for this celebration every November 9 was first named: Church of the Savior.

Every civilization has certain places that it sets apart as holy. Mountains, Trees, Stones, and Water were especially respected and often times became a meeting place with the gods. They were the starting point or the goal of pilgrims, and as such they became places of worship. Mountains in particular were the favorite locale for cultic rites. Psychologically they were closer to the sky and a ladder to the divine. Often stones were piled high on mountains to reach even higher than the terrain would allow. In time these would evolve into tombs, temples, and shrines. These were often oriented to face the rising sun.

For more than a thousand years, the most sacred place of Judaism was the Temple on the mount that is Jerusalem. But it’s destruction by hostile invaders brought about a more spiritual worship, a religion of the heart which some prophets encouraged with a caution against excessive attachment to a temple of stone suggesting that poor and contrite hearts were a better dwelling place for God. For the first followers of Christ it became clear that Jesus was the new temple where one would encounter God, and once his death and resurrection were experienced through Pentecost, they began to see themselves, as Paul suggests, as the new temple built on the foundation or the corner stone of Christ.

It is a good reminder for us today in this beautiful church that this building is here because we are here, not the other way around. In fact, if there is someone here because of the building, this Feast comes as a challenge and a contradiction to that thinking. It is Christ the Savior that must draw us together, not bricks made by human hands. This place, like the Church of the Lateran is a gift, a gift we make to God. It can and it will come down someday, but the faith we celebrate, nurture, and share in this place does not. In this place we bear witness to the power of that faith to give life and hope, to give light and voice the faith we share. This is the goal of our pilgrimage through the past week. We come to this church like pilgrims, and like so many other sacred and holy places, it reaches high toward the sky, and as you enter, you face the east looking for risen and coming light.

This is a place of covenant; of feasting; of proclaiming. It is place of sacrifice; a meeting place where God is revealed in sacrament, song, and service. Water flows here at the entrance. Look at it. Touch it.

See the three sources that flow from the font and collect in the pool below. Be reminded of the Trinity and the power of those names. The prophet’s promise is fulfilled in this place and among us.

Our churches are for us a mirror that reminds us who we are. The world says we are consumers flashing a constant stream of icons to remind us of this and make us want more. The church reminds us of our deepest identity, a people of diversity who become one in Christ Jesus and in whom dwells the Spirit of the Living God. It reminds us that we are not alone, but in here are surrounded by statues and icons to remind us as Paul says: that “we are fellow citizens with the saints”. This day we celebrate what we have become in Christ: a prophetic people, a priestly people, a holy people.