Keeping the Bridge Open

Today, in the Episcopal Church, we celebrate World Mission Sunday and, as an Anglican Community, we also celebrate the Transfiguration of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Today is a Sunday that we come face to face with Christ in all his glory as he sets his face to Jerusalem and the passion of the cross. It is a Sunday that reminds us that, as disciples of Christ, we are heirs to the mandate from our Savior to “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them everything that I have commanded you.” (Matt. 28:19-20)

It is a Sunday that brings to life in every way the incredibly important, complex, and salvific work of mission in the world. Mission - a way of fulfilling the vows of our baptismal covenant.  Mission - a way of truly experiencing ourselves as children of God and brothers and sisters in Christ. Mission – a way in which we carry out our most profound responsibility of seeking and serving Christ in all persons, and loving our neighbors as ourselves.

In our gospel reading today - Mark’s account of the Transfiguration of Christ - we are reminded of the divinity of Jesus, the Beloved Son of God. And, we are reminded that as brothers and sisters in Christ, we are also children of God. We are reminded that as children of God, we are part of a global family and, as such, we are mutually responsible for one another.  

We are reminded that the price of discipleship can be costly, discouraging, painful, and lonely. But, we are also reminded that to bear the cross of discipleship is to see the face of God and to experience His grace and salvation – to enter into a peace that passes all understanding – both now and forever more.

Today is a day when we celebrate our lives as Children of God - Disciples of Christ – agents of healing, compassion, justice, and dignity for all.

What better Sunday for a deacon to be preaching!

In Christian teachings, the Transfiguration of Jesus is a pivotal moment.  The setting on the mountain is presented as the point where human nature meets God: the meeting place for the temporal and the eternal, with Jesus himself as the connecting point; Jesus acting as the bridge between heaven and earth.

Thomas Aquinas considered the Transfiguration "the greatest miracle.” He wrote, “By his loving foresight he allowed them to taste for a short time the contemplation of eternal joy, so that they might bear prosecution bravely.” (Summa Theologiae, III, 45.1)

In other words, in seeing Jesus transfigured, the disciples had the opportunity to see the glory of God radiate from their teacher and to learn that the road to personally experiencing this glory is not necessarily a road easily traveled – but, that it is a road most definitely worth traveling. It is a road that leads from the trials and tribulations of this earthly dwelling to God’s Kingdom both here and beyond.

Anointed at our baptism as Disciples of Christ, we have historically struggled with the “how’s” of this enormous, both gift and responsibility, that we have inherited as Christians.  How do we perpetuate the existence of this bridge between the temporal and the sacred? How do we keep God present among us so that the world can know and experience the love, compassion and the salvation that God has given to us through his Son, Jesus Christ.

How do we keep Jesus among us?

In 1963, 16,000 Anglicans from around the world gathered together for an Anglican Congress to discuss issues of mutual ministry, and to live into the belief that the Anglican Communion is one family, mutually interdependent on one another.

The congress struggled with issues of interdependence in an economically unequal world. The congress discussed moving away from the idea of giving and receiving, and decided to instead focus on equality, interdependence and mutual responsibility. The congress talked about needing to examine rigorously the ways in which we use the word “mission” in describing something we do for someone else.

Perhaps the one of the most revealing comments in the final document published by this congress is, “We do not ‘do mission for others.’ Mission is not the kindness of the lucky to the unlucky, of giving a little out of our excess. Mission is about

being in a fully mutual and interdependent relationship in which we recognize that we are blood of the same blood, flesh of the same flesh.”

In other words, when one person hurts, we all hurt. When one person is not able to live fully into their humanity because of a lack of human rights, then we all are in pain. We are all intimately connected to one another.

In her book, Being a Deacon Today, Rosalind Brown writes, “Without rootedness in the world, life and ministry are meaningless. From the very beginnings of the biblical narrative, the story is of God who comes among us - asking the hiding Adam and Eve, ‘Where are you?’ (Gen 3:9), saying, ‘I have seen the misery of my people and have come down’ (Exod 3:7-8), and giving the name ‘Emmanuel’, ‘God is with us’, to the incarnate Son (Matt 1:23). And it is this incarnational self-giving of God [this involvement of God in our lives] that sets our agenda as the people of God.” An agenda that calls us to be present in the lives of others.

In a challenge to the Anglo-Catholic Congress of 1923, Bishop Frank Weston said, “You cannot claim to worship Jesus in the tabernacle of you do not pity Jesus in the slum…now go out into the highway and hedges and look for Jesus in the ragged and the naked, in the oppressed and the sweated, in those who have lost hope, and in those who are struggling to make good. Look for Jesus in them and when you have found him, gird yourself with His towel of fellowship and wash His feet in the person of his brethren.”

Tough marching orders. Tough marching orders for deacons - and, tough marching orders for laity called into mission through the vows of their baptismal covenant.

This work of mission has, in one way or another, been my life’s calling - first as a social worker intent of serving and bringing dignity and justice to very marginal populations - the dying, those living with HIV/AIDS, and the sexually abused. Now as a deacon my missional work has taken a slightly different path. I am called to bring educational opportunities, food and basic healthcare to communities of Episcopal school children and their families in Haiti.

Over the years, I have learned, at times as the result of grave mistakes on my part, that there can be no doing, no helping, without first being present. Being present among and seeking Christ in those to whom I have ambitious hopes of directing my assistance and support.

This business of being present among and finding Christ in the “other” is very hard work - it requires prayer, discipline, courage and a “servant” point of view. It requires incredible humility, with a frame of mind that is comfortable with the concept of “I know nothing, - I need to be silent, present, and watch, listen and learn.”

I have learned, very clearly, that the act of being present assumes that you lay down your “I” in search of the “other.”

Being present allows you to see Christ in everyone you meet and to know that God sees no difference between “us” and “them.” To God, we are all one, coming together in prayer and hard work to keep that bridge - the bridge between heaven and earth, the bridge to God that Christ gave us  - to keep that bridge open to traffic 24/7.

My job as deacon is to inspire you to take up, and then to lead you in your missional journey. My task is to encourage us all to move away from the goal of “giving to” to the task of “being with.” My prayer is that together we will go into the world, joining our hearts and souls with those who suffer, becoming a light to those who are in darkness, and creating a way for us all to worship, live, and be as a community of brothers and sisters in Christ - both in our own community, throughout our nation, and in a world that is torn by terrorism, famine, and disasters to numerous to imagine.

It is in community and servanthood that the light of Christ shines and the bridge to God remains open.  AMEN.

Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening

“Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” ( 1 Sam 3:9)

Today we hear three different versions of a central theme…Look - listen - pay attention, or you will miss God’s call to you. The call that will bring you into direct and right relationship with God and into loving and compassionate community with those in the world around you.

Today’s reading from 1 Samuel is, for me, the simplest, yet the most eloquent, expression of this theme as it has played out in my life - perhaps Samuel’s struggle to identify who it is that is calling to to him and what is required of him through that call rings true in your lives as well.

Samuel’s story reminds me of a time in my life that was not terribly good. A time when I was most definitely lost and lonely. A time when my little bubble of a “dream world” crumbled and I was truly alone in a wilderness that I had never before experienced.

As I strolled down the main street of the small town that I had settled in for a time of re-grouping, I passed the local Episcopal Church. It was a very large church with bright red doors and a big “Welcome” sign posted on the lawn. Let me hasten to add that although I had been born and raised in the Episcopal Church, I had not entered any red, or any other color, Episcopal doors for quite a few years.

There was really no reason in my current state of self-pity for me to even look at this particular church, or its red doors, but… but I heard a call. I heard a call that was loud and clear. I heard a call that said, “Come in.”

At first I hesitated. “Why should I go in? It’s the middle of the week, no one is around, what purpose would it serve?” I started to walk on.

“Come in,” said the voice again. I stopped mid-stride and turned back to look at the red doors. “The doors are probably locked,” I said to myself. But the voice persisted, “Come in,” it commanded.

Reluctantly, I turned back, furtively approached the doors and turned the big brass knob. The door opened. OK, now I was in real trouble. No turning back at this point, so in I went.

It was a big and very beautiful church. I looked around for a few moments and then decided to sit down. Perhaps, I thought, I should pray for help. So, down I sat and began my confused comments to God - I would hardly call these comments a prayer.

Very soon I noticed a priest standing next to my pew. “Can I help you,” he asked. Looking up I experienced a huge wave of relief, and after a moment I answered, “Yes.”

So began my journey back into right relationship with God. A journey in which the Spirit has sometimes gently, sometimes harshly, directed me away from my “dream bubble” world and the tantalizing temptations of prestige, power and money. A journey that has been from time to time, bumpy, scary, smooth, and peace-filled. A journey that has been sometimes incredibly bold and daring, and sometimes incredibly calm and collaborative. A journey that has taken me to places, both physical and spiritual, that I would have never dreamed possible. A journey that has landed me here at Christ Church, St. Michaels Parish.

I am quite certain that there is no one here today who has not experienced a life situation similar to mine. At some point, no matter how privileged, we all come to a time of rough waters; a time that leaves us questioning, seriously questioning, the work that we are doing and the values that we hold.

I am also quite certain that I am not unique in experiencing a call from God. Indeed, I think you would all agree that God calls each and every one of us, each and every day - every moment of every day. The call from God is always there, but not always heard. I believe rather that we, like Samuel, like Paul and like Jesus’ disciples, experience specific moments in our lives in which we hear God’s call - we hear it loudly and clearly. The question for us then is, when we hear our call from God, do we listen to it? Do we respond as Samuel responded, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.”

And, once we have cried out, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening,” how do we respond to what we hear?

Our response, of course, is key, for if we do not listen with open hearts and open minds, God’s call will fade from our hearing, it will be gone as quickly as it appeared.

If, however, we respond with the eyes and the ears of our heart wide open - if we welcome God into our lives, his call will increase in volume and meaning as we embark on our Spirit-led journey away from the “dream bubble,” and into right relationship with God.

Opening our hearts and minds to God’s call allows us the opportunity to become members of the loving and compassionate communion of saints, who act as a light to the world - a light that shines brightly enough for those in darkness to come out of the darkness and into the grace-filled world of hope and salvation.

My friends this “listening” and “responding” is tough stuff - hard work. It requires courage, endurance and patience. It requires love and forgiveness in situations that are appallingly anger-provoking; patience and courage in situations that are horrifically tragic; dignity and leadership in confusing and frightening wilderness situations; and above all, it requires faith and perseverance as we go into the world carrying forward the mission of Jesus Christ - to love and to serve, in peace.

Responding to God’s call is not for the feint at heart. Throughout Scripture we witness the trials and tribulations of those chosen by God to be his servants. Beginning with Abraham in Genesis right through to the New Testament gospels, we are witness to countless calls from God and their outcome. The overarching story of God’s call to mankind culminates, of course, in the incarnation, teaching and healing, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who though his life and death created a standard for us to set for ourselves in our life’s journey.

God calls us to be one with him through living a life that in word and deed reflects our baptismal vows - to live in prayerful community; to repent and return when we have gone astray; to proclaim the good news of Christ in word and deed; to seek the Christ in all whom we encounter; to love our neighbors as ourselves; to seek justice and peace for all; to respect the dignity of every human being.

To live, as Walter Brueggemann would say, “for the good of the neighborhood.”

Beautiful words - wonderful thoughts - however, a very complex and difficult job description.

As I indicated earlier, my journey since responding to God’s call to “Come in” has not been smooth sailing guided by some fancy GPS instrument that ensures getting from one point to another without, many times over, getting lost.

My journey has not always allowed me to be politically correct, to live in comfort, or to know what is just around the bend.

However, I can tell you - and I would imagine that you could tell me when discussing your own journeys - that it has been, and is, a journey from which there is no turning back - neither the desire nor the possibility. It is a journey that I share with many people - all of you included. It is a journey led by our Savior Jesus Christ - our travel companion and guide the Holy Spirit. It is a journey to which God has called us through his Son Jesus Christ who said, “Follow me.” It is a journey in which we travel beyond the cross to the world of darkness that yearns for the light of Christ and the salvation of God. AMEN