Sermon
Luke 9:51-62
A Theological Dilemma
6.27.2010
To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”
Today's Gospel reading is filled with bits and pieces. Jesus on a journey, his face set to go to Jerusalem; his entry into a village of the Samaritans who would not receive him; his moving on to another village that would receive him; and, then a series of requests from several who expressed a desire to follow him. Requests that were rebuffed with impatient and puzzling responses.
It would seem, however, that the essence of what Jesus is saying to his potential followers in these puzzling responses is that, “My journey and the kingdom of God come before all else. Forget your dying parents; forget your family; forget your fields, your animals, and your livelihood. Nothing in your life is as important as your commitment to follow me on my journey to Jerusalem.”
“We need to keep moving on. If you cannot drop everything in your life now, right now, and follow me, you are not “fit for the kingdom of God.”
Pretty strong words – drop everything in your life now, right now, and follow me on my journey or you are not fit for the kingdom of God.
How are we to interpret these demands that fly in the face of prudence, responsibility, accountability, and just plain old common sense?
For many of us, the demands made by Jesus in this passage from Luke create a very real theological dilemma. They leave us wondering, “How can I justify leaving all responsibility behind, and still believe that I am living a Christian life? What does Jesus mean when he says I am not fit for God's Kingdom unless I abandon my family, my work, and the life that I have created for myself in order to follow him?”
The theological dilemma that Jesus presented to his followers, is not unlike many dilemmas created by the events and demands that we encounter in today's world. Events and demands that pose a deep incongruity between what we believe and what we are being asked to do. Events and demands that are frequently, for those of us who take scripture and our baptismal covenant to heart, almost impossible to resolve with true peace of mind.
Theological dilemmas – situations that cause stress and anxiety. Situations that cause us to re-examine our belief system and the comfort of the world that we have built for ourselves within that belief system. Theological dilemmas – situations that can literally make or break us.
This morning – I am going to focus on theological dilemmas; how we handle them, and how we learn from them.
What is a theological dilemma anyway?
St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, a philosopher and theologian, defined the Latin equivalent of theological, theologica, as “reasoning or discussion concerning the deity.” Richard Hooker, an Anglican priest and theologian, defined theology as “the science of things divine.” Essentially, theology is the use of various forms of analysis and discussion to help understand, explain, defend and/or promote various religious beliefs and/or topics.
As Episcopalians, we develop, perhaps without knowing it, our own personal theologies. These theologies help us understand our religious tradition; they help us understand other religious traditions; and, they help us understand our religion in comparison to others. They provide the foundation for a unique and individual code of ethics that guides us in dealing with relationships and current life situations. They provide a framework for our understanding and interpretation of world situations.
Put another way, our personal theology, based on our interpretation of scripture, the traditions of our Church, and the culture in which we live, is the framework for our religious beliefs and our way of being in the world. It is the tool that we use each and every day to understand the world, and what is going on around us in the world – both environmentally and physically.
Whether we know it or not, we all have a personal theology that shapes our attitudes and behaviors, helps us negotiate life's situations, and provides us with some small understanding of what our life, and life in general, is all about.
A theological dilemma is a situation that seriously challenges our personal theology. Our personal comfort zone of the hows and whys of life is quite suddenly in direct opposition to what is being asked of us, or what is going on around us. This incongruity forces us to ask ourselves, “Are my beliefs valid, or have I been wandering down the wrong path.”
A theological dilemma frequently causes confusion, anxiety, anger, and not infrequently, a feeling of being lost and alone. The outcome of dealing with a theological dilemma can frequently cause discomfort and a disruption in a life that previously had felt calm and settled.
In today's Gospel reading, Jesus causes a big theological dilemma for those who ask to follow him on his journey to Jerusalem. Jesus says to them, “Follow me and leave everything else behind.”
I am sure that you can see the dilemma that Jesus posed for both of the men who offered to follow him on his journey to Jerusalem. In Jesus' culture, children -- especially sons -- were the only social security. If you had sons, they (and their wives and children) were expected to stick around to take care of you until you died, and then to make sure you get a proper burial. According to tradition, the very least that you could do to "honor your father and mother" (Exodus 20:12) is to take care of them when they grow old and are dying.
But in today's passage, Jesus says, in effect, “you have absolutely no obligation toward an earthly father; your only obligation is to your heavenly Father.” Wow – Jesus said that?
He did. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus called people to drop their nets and their plows, leave their families and their villages, and follow him.
This demand creates a theological dilemma – how do you honor your father and mother, and do your duty toward family, neighbor, and work according to Christian tradition; and, at the same time, drop everything and follow Jesus. What does this mean? How is it to be implemented?
All of us experience theological dilemmas, in one way or another, on a daily basis. Some are quite minor and easily resolved. Others are far more difficult to negotiate. These are the situations that force us to examine our personal theologies and to spend significant time, in conversation, reflection, and prayer in our attempt to make decisions about how to proceed in resolving the dilemma.
An example might be trying to decide whether or not, after years of turmoil, to deliver a “tough love” ultimatum to an alcoholic or drug addicted child or spouse by saying, “No more. I want you out of this house immediately, and do not expect any financial bailouts from this moment forward.” This tough love move is in direct opposition to our daily efforts to follow Jesus by “seeking the Christ in all persons and loving our neighbors as ourselves.”
In making a “tough love” decision we may be forcing someone onto the streets and possibly into jail. Is this a Christian thing to do? What would God have to say about this? What would Jesus do if he were in our shoes?
Of course, there are no answers to these questions. They are just that – questions; important questions.
There are no rights or wrongs in solving our theological dilemmas. We simply do the best we can, making every effort to “follow Jesus, while tending to our personal lives as responsibly and realistically as possible.
The theologian Marcus J. Borg says,
“...questioning also serves a necessary religious function: it prevents us from thinking that there can ever be a final formulation of “the way things are.” Our words and concepts, no matter how sacred or scientific, can only point to a stupendous and wondrous Mystery beyond all language. That is their function: they are pointers, and some point better than others. Sometimes language can even mediate the Mystery, the sacred.
But none of our “tenets or traditions” can be the last word, the final word. They are creatures, creations. To think of them as absolute is to give them a status that belongs to God alone.”
Borg does not believe that the Bible can be taken literally if it is to be taken seriously. He views the Bible as a lens through which we can view the Divine. The lens helps us to see God. The Bible, therefore, becomes our mediator - a means, not an end in the formation of our personal theologies, and the way in which we live them out in our day-to-day lives.
To question; to use the Bible as a lens through which we can see the Divine; to become engaged in the practice identifying our personal theology; to grow continually and endlessly through struggling with theological dilemmas both large and small, is to hear Jesus saying, “Follow me.”
Our theological dilemmas are simply a starting point. Other questions must follow – “Where am I to follow you?” - “How am I to follow you?” - “What does following you really mean in this particular situation?”
The questions are many; the conversations with God endless; the prayers for guidance, strength, courage, and compassion unceasing. But, the goal is always the same. The goal is to be on the road, our face set to Jerusalem, following Jesus.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Justified by Faith - Trinity Sunday 2010
Sermon
Justified by Faith John 16:12-15
May 30, 2010
Nine weeks ago on Easter Day, Christians across the world were proclaiming, Alleluia, the Lord is Risen. He is Risen indeed. Alleluia.
The disciples were amazed and relieved. We were amazed and relieved. The one we thought had died was risen; he was with us once again. We were not alone.
And now, today, just a few short weeks later, the Risen Christ tells his disciples that he will leave them once again. This time, he will go to heaven to be with his Father, leaving the disciples with his final gift – the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Can you imagine how confused and desolate the disciples must have been? How would you have felt? Angry, resentful, abandoned? I know that I would probably have felt overwhelmed.
One minute our teacher and leader was dead and buried in a tomb; within a few short hours, vanished from that very same tomb; soon after only to be alive again and present with us; and, then, once again, gone.
To quote a friend of mine, “who would have believed???”
And, yet Jesus is asking his disciples, and us, to do exactly that – to believe.
Jesus knew his final departure would be hard for the disciples. He knew that they were very dependent on him; that they had not yet fully understood who he was, or what his message was. After all his teaching, all his good works, and despite his resurrection – the disciples still did not get it – they did not understand that he was the Son of God; their savior; their salvation. Jesus knew this.
Jesus said to his disciples, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear to hear them now,” fully understanding that this final departure would leave the disciples frightened and confused, wondering, “What will we do now?”
But, Jesus also knew that when he departed, the Holy Spirit would come into the lives of those who had followed him, breathing life into the message of grace and salvation that had been his mission to bring to us as the Son of God; God incarnate.
Jesus tells the disciples that the Holy Spirit, “… will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”
Jesus came to us as the incarnation, the embodiment in flesh, of God. He will now rise to “sit at the right hand of God” – to be one with God. He will be replaced by the Holy Spirit – the Spirit of God.
Jesus was “begotten” by the Father, and the Holy Spirit will “proceed” from the Father and from the Son. The three, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, are One – the Holy Trinity – Holy, Holy, Holy.
That is what we are celebrating today, Trinity Sunday – the solemn day of commemoration of the Holy Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Jesus was God’s gift to us. Through his crucifixion, death and resurrection, Jesus gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit. Christ knew God’s mission for him, and through the Holy Spirit, we are told by Christ, that we will know God’s mission for us.
Christ had faith in God, his Father. This faith called him to his ministry and gave him the courage and strength to face his death on the cross.
Christ is asking us to have faith, and to allow this faith to open our hearts to the gift of the Holy Spirit; to allow our lives to be nurtured and guided by the breath of the Holy Spirit.
Just as God breathed on Adam and gave him the breath of life, Jesus breathed on his disciples and said to them, “Peace to you! As the Father sent me, I also send you…and when he said this he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ ”
The gift of the Holy Spirit– will we have the courage to recognize it and to allow it to nurture our faith and guide us through these challenging times?
This weekend we are also celebrating Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, the day of Remembrance, for those who have died in our nation’s service. Remembrance Day officially goes back to World War I. Since that time, many wars have been fought and many lives lost. One hundred sixteen, six hundred and six lives were lost in World War I; 405,399 in World War II; 33,686 in the Korean War; 58,209 in the Vietnam War; 1,083 in Afghanistan; and, 4,403 in Iraq. A total of 36,230 men and women have been either killed or wounded in the Iraq War.
These men and women went into battle with courage, perseverance, and faith. Many have written extensively about the presence of God in their lives in the most terrifying of moments in the battle field.
"In Flanders Fields" is one of the most memorable of these written accounts. It is a poem written by Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae written just after he witnessed the death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer who was only 22 years old. The poppies referred to in the poem grew in profusion in Flanders in the disturbed earth of the battlefields and cemeteries where war casualties were buried. That is how they became a symbol of Remembrance Day.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
In a verbal tribute to our military, General Douglas MacArthur in his farewell address at the West Point commencement ceremonies on May 12, 1962 said,
“In twenty campaigns, on a hundred battlefields, around a thousand campfires, I have witnessed that enduring fortitude, that patriotic self-abnegation, and that invincible determination which have carved the soldier’s statue in the hearts of his people
From one end of the world to the other, he has drained deep the chalice of courage. As I listened to those songs of the glee club, in memory's eye I could see those staggering columns of the First World War, bending under soggy packs on many a weary march, from dripping dusk to drizzling dawn, slogging ankle deep through mire of shell-pocked roads; to form grimly for the attack, blue-lipped, covered with sludge and mud, chilled by the wind and rain, driving home to their objective, and for many, to the judgment seat of God.
I do not know the dignity of their birth, but I do know the glory of their death. They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory. Always for them: Duty, Honor, Country. Always their blood, and sweat, and tears, as they saw the way and the light.
And twenty years after, on the other side of the globe, against the filth of dirty foxholes, the stench of ghostly trenches, the slime of dripping dugouts, those boiling suns of the relentless heat, those torrential rains of devastating storms, the loneliness and utter desolation of jungle trails, the bitterness of long separation of those they loved and cherished, the deadly pestilence of tropic disease, the horror of stricken areas of war.
Their resolute and determined defense, their swift and sure attack, their indomitable purpose, their complete and decisive victory--always victory, always through the bloody haze of their last reverberating shot, the vision of the gaunt, ghastly men, reverently following the password of Duty, Honor, Country................
Today marks my final roll call with you. But I want you to know that when I cross the river, my last conscious thoughts will be of the Corps, and the Corps, and the Corps”
“If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.”
“They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory.”
“Peace to you! As the Father sent me, I also send you…and when he said this he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ ”
AMEN
Justified by Faith John 16:12-15
May 30, 2010
Nine weeks ago on Easter Day, Christians across the world were proclaiming, Alleluia, the Lord is Risen. He is Risen indeed. Alleluia.
The disciples were amazed and relieved. We were amazed and relieved. The one we thought had died was risen; he was with us once again. We were not alone.
And now, today, just a few short weeks later, the Risen Christ tells his disciples that he will leave them once again. This time, he will go to heaven to be with his Father, leaving the disciples with his final gift – the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Can you imagine how confused and desolate the disciples must have been? How would you have felt? Angry, resentful, abandoned? I know that I would probably have felt overwhelmed.
One minute our teacher and leader was dead and buried in a tomb; within a few short hours, vanished from that very same tomb; soon after only to be alive again and present with us; and, then, once again, gone.
To quote a friend of mine, “who would have believed???”
And, yet Jesus is asking his disciples, and us, to do exactly that – to believe.
Jesus knew his final departure would be hard for the disciples. He knew that they were very dependent on him; that they had not yet fully understood who he was, or what his message was. After all his teaching, all his good works, and despite his resurrection – the disciples still did not get it – they did not understand that he was the Son of God; their savior; their salvation. Jesus knew this.
Jesus said to his disciples, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear to hear them now,” fully understanding that this final departure would leave the disciples frightened and confused, wondering, “What will we do now?”
But, Jesus also knew that when he departed, the Holy Spirit would come into the lives of those who had followed him, breathing life into the message of grace and salvation that had been his mission to bring to us as the Son of God; God incarnate.
Jesus tells the disciples that the Holy Spirit, “… will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”
Jesus came to us as the incarnation, the embodiment in flesh, of God. He will now rise to “sit at the right hand of God” – to be one with God. He will be replaced by the Holy Spirit – the Spirit of God.
Jesus was “begotten” by the Father, and the Holy Spirit will “proceed” from the Father and from the Son. The three, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, are One – the Holy Trinity – Holy, Holy, Holy.
That is what we are celebrating today, Trinity Sunday – the solemn day of commemoration of the Holy Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Jesus was God’s gift to us. Through his crucifixion, death and resurrection, Jesus gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit. Christ knew God’s mission for him, and through the Holy Spirit, we are told by Christ, that we will know God’s mission for us.
Christ had faith in God, his Father. This faith called him to his ministry and gave him the courage and strength to face his death on the cross.
Christ is asking us to have faith, and to allow this faith to open our hearts to the gift of the Holy Spirit; to allow our lives to be nurtured and guided by the breath of the Holy Spirit.
Just as God breathed on Adam and gave him the breath of life, Jesus breathed on his disciples and said to them, “Peace to you! As the Father sent me, I also send you…and when he said this he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ ”
The gift of the Holy Spirit– will we have the courage to recognize it and to allow it to nurture our faith and guide us through these challenging times?
This weekend we are also celebrating Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, the day of Remembrance, for those who have died in our nation’s service. Remembrance Day officially goes back to World War I. Since that time, many wars have been fought and many lives lost. One hundred sixteen, six hundred and six lives were lost in World War I; 405,399 in World War II; 33,686 in the Korean War; 58,209 in the Vietnam War; 1,083 in Afghanistan; and, 4,403 in Iraq. A total of 36,230 men and women have been either killed or wounded in the Iraq War.
These men and women went into battle with courage, perseverance, and faith. Many have written extensively about the presence of God in their lives in the most terrifying of moments in the battle field.
"In Flanders Fields" is one of the most memorable of these written accounts. It is a poem written by Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae written just after he witnessed the death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer who was only 22 years old. The poppies referred to in the poem grew in profusion in Flanders in the disturbed earth of the battlefields and cemeteries where war casualties were buried. That is how they became a symbol of Remembrance Day.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
In a verbal tribute to our military, General Douglas MacArthur in his farewell address at the West Point commencement ceremonies on May 12, 1962 said,
“In twenty campaigns, on a hundred battlefields, around a thousand campfires, I have witnessed that enduring fortitude, that patriotic self-abnegation, and that invincible determination which have carved the soldier’s statue in the hearts of his people
From one end of the world to the other, he has drained deep the chalice of courage. As I listened to those songs of the glee club, in memory's eye I could see those staggering columns of the First World War, bending under soggy packs on many a weary march, from dripping dusk to drizzling dawn, slogging ankle deep through mire of shell-pocked roads; to form grimly for the attack, blue-lipped, covered with sludge and mud, chilled by the wind and rain, driving home to their objective, and for many, to the judgment seat of God.
I do not know the dignity of their birth, but I do know the glory of their death. They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory. Always for them: Duty, Honor, Country. Always their blood, and sweat, and tears, as they saw the way and the light.
And twenty years after, on the other side of the globe, against the filth of dirty foxholes, the stench of ghostly trenches, the slime of dripping dugouts, those boiling suns of the relentless heat, those torrential rains of devastating storms, the loneliness and utter desolation of jungle trails, the bitterness of long separation of those they loved and cherished, the deadly pestilence of tropic disease, the horror of stricken areas of war.
Their resolute and determined defense, their swift and sure attack, their indomitable purpose, their complete and decisive victory--always victory, always through the bloody haze of their last reverberating shot, the vision of the gaunt, ghastly men, reverently following the password of Duty, Honor, Country................
Today marks my final roll call with you. But I want you to know that when I cross the river, my last conscious thoughts will be of the Corps, and the Corps, and the Corps”
“If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.”
“They died unquestioning, uncomplaining, with faith in their hearts, and on their lips the hope that we would go on to victory.”
“Peace to you! As the Father sent me, I also send you…and when he said this he breathed on them and said, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ ”
AMEN
Friday, April 23, 2010
Ordination of Clelia Garrity to the Diaconate
St. Martin’s Church, Pahrump, NV
Ordination to the Sacred Order of Deacons - Clelia Garrity
Jeremiah 1:4-9; 2 Corinthians 4:1-6; Luke 12:35-38 (Propers for the Ordination of a Deacon)
Preacher; The Reverend William H. Stokes
How privileged I feel to be here and to be your preacher on this extraordinary occasion, when, in a short while, by God’s grace and with your consent, Clelia Garrity will be ordained a deacon in Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic church. I think this day has been a long time coming. I know Clelia feels that way too.
I’ve known Clelia for nearly fifteen years and have been her spiritual director throughout this process. I can assure you she has been waiting for this moment, longing for it. For her, it is a time of fulfillment, a time for her to fulfill that which she feels to the depths of her soul. Clelia is a deacon through and through and through. She has a deacon’s heart!
Today we are giving outward expression to an inward reality which is already present; which God has planted with the soul of Clelia Garrity. That’s what a sacrament is: giving outward and visible expression to an inward invisible reality. Ordination is a sacrament.
God has given Clelia a heart of compassion. Not the kind of compassion that feels only and then doesn’t act, that is “enabling” rather than “empowering.” Oh, no, Clelia Garrity’s compassion is active compassion. Clelia sees, and Clelia does.
Clelia has served, and continues to serve, people most in need and in most desperate circumstances: the poor, the battered and the abused, and especially battered and abused children, the most vulnerable ones. She has been performing this kind of service most of her adult her....Yes, God has given Clelia the heart of a servant...God has given Clelia the heart of a Deacon.
Today, we have a holy and sacred responsibility: With our consent, by our prayers, and with Bishop Dan’s actions of laying his hands on Clelia and petitioning the Holy Spirit, by the power of that same Spirit, the outward expression will meet with the inward reality and the deed will be accomplished. We will have a new Deacon – Deacon Clelia Garrity.
Prior to responding to my own call to the priesthood (and it needs to be noted that all priests are first ordained as deacons, although there is a healthy conversation going on in the church today about whether or not we should continue this), I worked for many years in restaurants both as a bartender and a waiter. I started doing this because my wife and I had married young, very young; when I was a freshman in college. Working in restaurants allowed me to work at night and go to school during the day. I kept that up for two years. Then restaurants took over and I dropped out of college and started running restaurants. I did pretty well, running some pretty big places, mostly in New York.
After eight years of that, I got restless. I was working 6 and 7 days a week, often from 9 or 10 in the morning until 2 0r 3 the next morning. I’d go home, sleep for a few hours, get up and do it again. I had a family, including small children....What’s this about? I began to wonder to myself. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the Spirit was stirring in me. I began to sense a call to the priesthood.
Eventually I responded to that call and went back and finished college and then went to seminary. I stopped running restaurants, but I still had to work, I had children to support. I started waiting tables again. I waited tables through the first year and a half of seminary.
In 1987, during my first year at General Seminary, where one of my classmates was Bishop Dan Edwards, we were required to take a course in church history called Patristics....Patristics studies the earliest history of the church; from the time immediately following the Resurrection of Jesus and the church of the first Apostles to about the 6th century. One of the first lectures of the course was on the early development of the church’s ordained ministry, the order of deacons. “The word deacon,” Professor Bob Wright said in class that day, “comes from the Greek word DIACONOS which means ‘servant’ or more specifically `humble table servant’ or ‘waiter.’”
I cannot describe to you, how overwhelmed I was at hearing that in that classroom...As I indicated, at the time, I was still waiting tables in a restaurant in New York... “The word deacon,” Professor Bob Wright said, “comes from the Greek word DIACONOS which means `servant’ `humble table servant’ or ‘waiter.’”
Yes, it was overwhelming to hear that. I was at a totally new place in my life and in my understanding...I was in a totally new place in my relationship with God but, I had come full circle. I knew what those words meant. I was entering a new servanthood, a new form of humble table service. Tears came to my eyes and I could barely hear the rest of the lecture. It was as if God had spoken to me; had affirmed my call.
Today we are gathered to ordain another person into the ranks of God’s humble table servants, God’s waiters....Another person, Clelia Garrity, has by the grace of God in her own distinct way come full circle in her life. She, too, has felt the stirring of the Spirit, which made her restless, unsettled her....And she has, in response the Spirit’s urging, presented herself to the Church; jumped through all its hoops and been found worthy to enter its servant ranks. So we rejoice in that and give thanks for it, even as we recognize the solemnity of the occasion and grapple with its implications.
In one of his Epistles, St. Clement of Rome, an early Church Father (who dates to about. 95 AD), states that the institution of deacons along with that of bishops “is the work of the Apostles themselves.”1 Therefore, the ordination which takes place today, and the ministry which we celebrate, reaches back to the very earliest life of the church. Wow!
In its earliest expressions the diaconate was clear and well-defined. There were seven deacons in Rome and in each of the large cities of the church. In a thorough treatment of the subject, the Catholic Encyclopedia tells us that deacons were responsible for oversight of church funds and for the distribution of alms to the poor, the widows and the orphans....Deacons were responsible for seeking out the sick and the needy and reporting to the bishop and representing to the bishop both their condition and their necessities...They were responsible for inviting the elderly women of the church community to the Agape meal. 2
Deacons were “the guardians of order in the church.” 3 They saw that the faithful occupied their proper places, that “none gossiped or slept...They were to welcome the poor and aged and to take care that they were not at a disadvantage as to their position in the church.”4...As St. Chrysostom says in general terms: “if anyone misbehave let the deacon be summoned.” 5 I like that!
Besides all this, Deacons, “.were largely employed in the direct ministry of the altar, preparing the sacred vessels and bringing water for the ablutions....”6 Deacons read the Gospel, led the prayers of the people, and dismissed them into the world at the end of the mass...7
There are a number of other qualities of this ministry from early days, and, although they had receded into the background for many hundreds of years, the ministry of the deacon has re-surged, both in the Roman Church, and particularly in the Episcopal Church...
The Book of Common Prayer captures the essentials of this ministry, its implications and its tensions in the Examination which we shall soon hear. The Bishop will state to Clelia, “As a deacon....You are to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and worship. You are to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world. You are to assist the bishops and priests in public worship and in the ministration of God’s Word and Sacraments, and you are to carry out other duties assigned to you from time to time. At, all times, your life and teaching are to show Christ’s people that in serving the helpless, they are serving Christ himself....” 8 Servanthood is that the heart of the diaconal ministry....In fact, servanthood is at the core of all Christian ministry.
Were you paying attention to the Gospel reading when it was read? Did it shock you? It should have. It certainly would have shocked those who heard it when Jesus spoke those words...
Jesus is speaking to a crowd....He had already been engaged in a somewhat hostile exchange with scribes and Pharisees who are lying in wait, ready to pounce on anything he says which might give them an excuse to have him arrested (cf. Luke 11:53).
Those scribes and Pharisees knew about power and privilege....They were the cream of their society....They kept the law and observed every propriety....They also knew who was who in their society. They were at the top of the social rung; everybody else, well, they should be kept in their place.....
Jesus addresses the crowd and urges them to be ready for the time when the master of the House will come (Luke 12:26) Apparently, in this short teaching, the master has been attending a wedding banquet, it’s an image for the messianic banquet, the consummation of time, when the righteous will be judged favorably and enter into the master’s heaven and when the wicked will be judged negatively and cast into the place of eternal separation from God....
“Be dressed, “ Jesus says to his listeners... “Be dressed and ready for action. Have your lamps lit....Be like those who are waiting for the Master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks” (Luke 12:35 - 36).
Now listen to this. Listen carefully! Listen to what Jesus says next, “Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves! (Luke 12:37-38). The master of the house will come and fasten his belt, and then have them sit down to eat, and HE will serve them?! It’s unbelievable! It’s absurd!
But that’s what the ministry and Gospel message of Jesus is: unbelievable, outrageous, absurd! It turns the world upside down....It turns the world’s calculus and power structures upside down. The rich are poor and the poor are rich....The blind receive their sight and the lame are healed....The captives are set free, the oppressed are limited....And masters wait tables and serve the servants....
In his book Living Jesus, Luke Timothy Johnson writes, “The claim to be learning Jesus is superficial if not grounded in specific practices that embody such learning. The pattern of faithful obedience and loving service is not something to be memorized as though it were a mental image. Rather, it is a pattern that must be spelled out in the practices of living faith within a community...The pattern by which we were imprinted by baptism – the pattern of a dying and rising Lord Jesus....We need to translate this pattern into consistent habits of behavior that express the mind of Christ.” 9
Johnson continues, “We shall not be able to learn Jesus in the sick and imprisoned unless we visit those who are sick and imprisoned. We shall not find Jesus in the hungry and thirsty unless we go to those who are hungry with food and to those who are thirsty with drink. We shall not meet Jesus in the stranger unless we provide the stranger with hospitality...”10
Johnson is right and his description addresses what should be the ministry of all the baptized. But his words and images point with special particularity, I believe, to the ministry of the deacon as that ministry is understood in the Book of Common Prayer and as that ministry has been handed down to us through th ages in the church: a ministry, a radical ministry, to which Clelia is now called and into which she is now to be ordained...She has the heart for it....She has a deacons heart through and through....
Charge to Clelia
Clelia, God has led you on an extraordinary journey and now calls you into an extraordinary ministry of service...I know you...I know you well....I give thanks for this day and for God’s call to you...I think it has been a long time coming....I am thankful for the privilege of sharing with you in this call....You know about power and privilege and celebrity and the all the superficialities and artificial categories of value that mark the world in which we live....You have lived among them....
You have also recognized the needs of the world and dedicated yourself as a layperson and social worker to responding to those needs....Christ now calls you into deeper servanthood and deeper love....On behalf of God’s people, I now charge you to continue to grow in Christ’s love and service and to grow in your servant ministry as a deacon....Continue to break boundaries, to journey to places of discomfort and pain, to journey to places which challenge your own comfort level and perhaps even threaten your own self-understanding...Go to those places...Go to those places because you are needed there...Go to those places because Christ is needed there...Let those who see you, see, experience Christ, through you and in you...Let his words resound through your ministry, “I am among you as one who serves.”
Charge to the People
It is customary for the preacher at an ordination service to charge the ordinand and I have just done this...But it is important that we all be charged....Clelia is about to be ordained to the servant ministry of Deacon, but we should recognize that her particular ministry is a specific expression of the servant ministry we all share by virtue of our baptism...We have promised that we will seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves...In this promise, we indicate our share in the diaconate. I charge you all therefore, not only to support Clelia in her diaconal ministry, but to remember that we you are all called to represent the reconciling love of Christ and his church wherever you may: in the home, at work, in school, at play, in service. The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ....May Christ give you strength and grace to be willing and obedient servants in that restoration work...May God bless and keep you always in his heart and love...Amen
Ordination to the Sacred Order of Deacons - Clelia Garrity
Jeremiah 1:4-9; 2 Corinthians 4:1-6; Luke 12:35-38 (Propers for the Ordination of a Deacon)
Preacher; The Reverend William H. Stokes
How privileged I feel to be here and to be your preacher on this extraordinary occasion, when, in a short while, by God’s grace and with your consent, Clelia Garrity will be ordained a deacon in Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic church. I think this day has been a long time coming. I know Clelia feels that way too.
I’ve known Clelia for nearly fifteen years and have been her spiritual director throughout this process. I can assure you she has been waiting for this moment, longing for it. For her, it is a time of fulfillment, a time for her to fulfill that which she feels to the depths of her soul. Clelia is a deacon through and through and through. She has a deacon’s heart!
Today we are giving outward expression to an inward reality which is already present; which God has planted with the soul of Clelia Garrity. That’s what a sacrament is: giving outward and visible expression to an inward invisible reality. Ordination is a sacrament.
God has given Clelia a heart of compassion. Not the kind of compassion that feels only and then doesn’t act, that is “enabling” rather than “empowering.” Oh, no, Clelia Garrity’s compassion is active compassion. Clelia sees, and Clelia does.
Clelia has served, and continues to serve, people most in need and in most desperate circumstances: the poor, the battered and the abused, and especially battered and abused children, the most vulnerable ones. She has been performing this kind of service most of her adult her....Yes, God has given Clelia the heart of a servant...God has given Clelia the heart of a Deacon.
Today, we have a holy and sacred responsibility: With our consent, by our prayers, and with Bishop Dan’s actions of laying his hands on Clelia and petitioning the Holy Spirit, by the power of that same Spirit, the outward expression will meet with the inward reality and the deed will be accomplished. We will have a new Deacon – Deacon Clelia Garrity.
Prior to responding to my own call to the priesthood (and it needs to be noted that all priests are first ordained as deacons, although there is a healthy conversation going on in the church today about whether or not we should continue this), I worked for many years in restaurants both as a bartender and a waiter. I started doing this because my wife and I had married young, very young; when I was a freshman in college. Working in restaurants allowed me to work at night and go to school during the day. I kept that up for two years. Then restaurants took over and I dropped out of college and started running restaurants. I did pretty well, running some pretty big places, mostly in New York.
After eight years of that, I got restless. I was working 6 and 7 days a week, often from 9 or 10 in the morning until 2 0r 3 the next morning. I’d go home, sleep for a few hours, get up and do it again. I had a family, including small children....What’s this about? I began to wonder to myself. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the Spirit was stirring in me. I began to sense a call to the priesthood.
Eventually I responded to that call and went back and finished college and then went to seminary. I stopped running restaurants, but I still had to work, I had children to support. I started waiting tables again. I waited tables through the first year and a half of seminary.
In 1987, during my first year at General Seminary, where one of my classmates was Bishop Dan Edwards, we were required to take a course in church history called Patristics....Patristics studies the earliest history of the church; from the time immediately following the Resurrection of Jesus and the church of the first Apostles to about the 6th century. One of the first lectures of the course was on the early development of the church’s ordained ministry, the order of deacons. “The word deacon,” Professor Bob Wright said in class that day, “comes from the Greek word DIACONOS which means ‘servant’ or more specifically `humble table servant’ or ‘waiter.’”
I cannot describe to you, how overwhelmed I was at hearing that in that classroom...As I indicated, at the time, I was still waiting tables in a restaurant in New York... “The word deacon,” Professor Bob Wright said, “comes from the Greek word DIACONOS which means `servant’ `humble table servant’ or ‘waiter.’”
Yes, it was overwhelming to hear that. I was at a totally new place in my life and in my understanding...I was in a totally new place in my relationship with God but, I had come full circle. I knew what those words meant. I was entering a new servanthood, a new form of humble table service. Tears came to my eyes and I could barely hear the rest of the lecture. It was as if God had spoken to me; had affirmed my call.
Today we are gathered to ordain another person into the ranks of God’s humble table servants, God’s waiters....Another person, Clelia Garrity, has by the grace of God in her own distinct way come full circle in her life. She, too, has felt the stirring of the Spirit, which made her restless, unsettled her....And she has, in response the Spirit’s urging, presented herself to the Church; jumped through all its hoops and been found worthy to enter its servant ranks. So we rejoice in that and give thanks for it, even as we recognize the solemnity of the occasion and grapple with its implications.
In one of his Epistles, St. Clement of Rome, an early Church Father (who dates to about. 95 AD), states that the institution of deacons along with that of bishops “is the work of the Apostles themselves.”1 Therefore, the ordination which takes place today, and the ministry which we celebrate, reaches back to the very earliest life of the church. Wow!
In its earliest expressions the diaconate was clear and well-defined. There were seven deacons in Rome and in each of the large cities of the church. In a thorough treatment of the subject, the Catholic Encyclopedia tells us that deacons were responsible for oversight of church funds and for the distribution of alms to the poor, the widows and the orphans....Deacons were responsible for seeking out the sick and the needy and reporting to the bishop and representing to the bishop both their condition and their necessities...They were responsible for inviting the elderly women of the church community to the Agape meal. 2
Deacons were “the guardians of order in the church.” 3 They saw that the faithful occupied their proper places, that “none gossiped or slept...They were to welcome the poor and aged and to take care that they were not at a disadvantage as to their position in the church.”4...As St. Chrysostom says in general terms: “if anyone misbehave let the deacon be summoned.” 5 I like that!
Besides all this, Deacons, “.were largely employed in the direct ministry of the altar, preparing the sacred vessels and bringing water for the ablutions....”6 Deacons read the Gospel, led the prayers of the people, and dismissed them into the world at the end of the mass...7
There are a number of other qualities of this ministry from early days, and, although they had receded into the background for many hundreds of years, the ministry of the deacon has re-surged, both in the Roman Church, and particularly in the Episcopal Church...
The Book of Common Prayer captures the essentials of this ministry, its implications and its tensions in the Examination which we shall soon hear. The Bishop will state to Clelia, “As a deacon....You are to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and worship. You are to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world. You are to assist the bishops and priests in public worship and in the ministration of God’s Word and Sacraments, and you are to carry out other duties assigned to you from time to time. At, all times, your life and teaching are to show Christ’s people that in serving the helpless, they are serving Christ himself....” 8 Servanthood is that the heart of the diaconal ministry....In fact, servanthood is at the core of all Christian ministry.
Were you paying attention to the Gospel reading when it was read? Did it shock you? It should have. It certainly would have shocked those who heard it when Jesus spoke those words...
Jesus is speaking to a crowd....He had already been engaged in a somewhat hostile exchange with scribes and Pharisees who are lying in wait, ready to pounce on anything he says which might give them an excuse to have him arrested (cf. Luke 11:53).
Those scribes and Pharisees knew about power and privilege....They were the cream of their society....They kept the law and observed every propriety....They also knew who was who in their society. They were at the top of the social rung; everybody else, well, they should be kept in their place.....
Jesus addresses the crowd and urges them to be ready for the time when the master of the House will come (Luke 12:26) Apparently, in this short teaching, the master has been attending a wedding banquet, it’s an image for the messianic banquet, the consummation of time, when the righteous will be judged favorably and enter into the master’s heaven and when the wicked will be judged negatively and cast into the place of eternal separation from God....
“Be dressed, “ Jesus says to his listeners... “Be dressed and ready for action. Have your lamps lit....Be like those who are waiting for the Master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks” (Luke 12:35 - 36).
Now listen to this. Listen carefully! Listen to what Jesus says next, “Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves! (Luke 12:37-38). The master of the house will come and fasten his belt, and then have them sit down to eat, and HE will serve them?! It’s unbelievable! It’s absurd!
But that’s what the ministry and Gospel message of Jesus is: unbelievable, outrageous, absurd! It turns the world upside down....It turns the world’s calculus and power structures upside down. The rich are poor and the poor are rich....The blind receive their sight and the lame are healed....The captives are set free, the oppressed are limited....And masters wait tables and serve the servants....
In his book Living Jesus, Luke Timothy Johnson writes, “The claim to be learning Jesus is superficial if not grounded in specific practices that embody such learning. The pattern of faithful obedience and loving service is not something to be memorized as though it were a mental image. Rather, it is a pattern that must be spelled out in the practices of living faith within a community...The pattern by which we were imprinted by baptism – the pattern of a dying and rising Lord Jesus....We need to translate this pattern into consistent habits of behavior that express the mind of Christ.” 9
Johnson continues, “We shall not be able to learn Jesus in the sick and imprisoned unless we visit those who are sick and imprisoned. We shall not find Jesus in the hungry and thirsty unless we go to those who are hungry with food and to those who are thirsty with drink. We shall not meet Jesus in the stranger unless we provide the stranger with hospitality...”10
Johnson is right and his description addresses what should be the ministry of all the baptized. But his words and images point with special particularity, I believe, to the ministry of the deacon as that ministry is understood in the Book of Common Prayer and as that ministry has been handed down to us through th ages in the church: a ministry, a radical ministry, to which Clelia is now called and into which she is now to be ordained...She has the heart for it....She has a deacons heart through and through....
Charge to Clelia
Clelia, God has led you on an extraordinary journey and now calls you into an extraordinary ministry of service...I know you...I know you well....I give thanks for this day and for God’s call to you...I think it has been a long time coming....I am thankful for the privilege of sharing with you in this call....You know about power and privilege and celebrity and the all the superficialities and artificial categories of value that mark the world in which we live....You have lived among them....
You have also recognized the needs of the world and dedicated yourself as a layperson and social worker to responding to those needs....Christ now calls you into deeper servanthood and deeper love....On behalf of God’s people, I now charge you to continue to grow in Christ’s love and service and to grow in your servant ministry as a deacon....Continue to break boundaries, to journey to places of discomfort and pain, to journey to places which challenge your own comfort level and perhaps even threaten your own self-understanding...Go to those places...Go to those places because you are needed there...Go to those places because Christ is needed there...Let those who see you, see, experience Christ, through you and in you...Let his words resound through your ministry, “I am among you as one who serves.”
Charge to the People
It is customary for the preacher at an ordination service to charge the ordinand and I have just done this...But it is important that we all be charged....Clelia is about to be ordained to the servant ministry of Deacon, but we should recognize that her particular ministry is a specific expression of the servant ministry we all share by virtue of our baptism...We have promised that we will seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves...In this promise, we indicate our share in the diaconate. I charge you all therefore, not only to support Clelia in her diaconal ministry, but to remember that we you are all called to represent the reconciling love of Christ and his church wherever you may: in the home, at work, in school, at play, in service. The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ....May Christ give you strength and grace to be willing and obedient servants in that restoration work...May God bless and keep you always in his heart and love...Amen
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Feed My Sheep...Follow me.
Sermon
Feed My Sheep…Follow Me
April 18, 2010
“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him “Feed my sheep.”…After this he said to him, “Follow me.” John 21:15-19
“Feed my lambs;” Tend my sheep;” “Feed my sheep;” “Follow me.” These are Jesus’ words to Peter, today. They are words that form commands; words that confer responsibility; words that imply trust; words foundational to the Christian Church.
They are commands that charge one to go forth in love and faith, both following Jesus and caring for the Christian community at the very same time.
Most certainly, these are commands that would normally be saved for only the most trusted friend or family member.
Yet, wait a minute…wasn’t Peter the disciple who just a few days earlier, during Jesus’ arrest and trial in Jerusalem, denied him twice by saying, “No, I am not one if his disciples,” and then a third time by saying, “No, I was not in the garden with him.”
Wasn’t Peter the disciple who could have come forward and defended Jesus, but didn’t, instead choosing to lurk in the shadows and escape responsibility? Wasn’t Peter the disciple who avoided offering the support that should have been given by one of Jesus’ followers; one of his trusted disciples?
Can it be that Peter – the Peter who denied; the Peter who avoided responsibility; the Peter who lost his way - who has now been chosen by Jesus to lead in his place; to, “Tend my sheep, and follow me?”
How are we to interpret this sudden and complete trust in someone who has just performed cowardly acts of betrayal and untrustworthiness? Someone who had just demonstrated blatant acts unfaithfulness?
We might wonder why Jesus didn’t instead choose John for this role of leadership. At first glance, John seems to be the perfect choice. He was, after all, Jesus’ favorite apostle.
It was John, not Peter, who stood by the foot of the cross as Jesus died, ignoring the danger of being arrested and put to death by the Romans. It was John, not Peter, whom Jesus chose to act as guardian of his mother Mary. It was John, not Peter, who had been the perfect disciple; the ever faithful friend; the dependable one. It seems impossible to imagine a more appropriate choice than John for Jesus to choose to lead his Church.
So why did Jesus choose Peter and not John? Did Jesus know something we do not? I think so – I think that while John was the “perfect” disciple; the disciple who did everything right with unfailing loyalty, Jesus knew that we are all Peter. We are not perfect. We all have moments of weakness; times of doubt; periods of our lives that are not so pretty perfect. We all lose our way – every single one of us. No one of us is perfect. And therefore, because no one could live up to John’s example of perfection, Jesus chose Peter.
Jesus does not expect us to be perfect.
Jesus knew that Peter would rebound from his fall and become the strong, natural leader he was. Jesus knew that by choosing Peter, he gave hope to the thousands of generations that would follow…. It’s as if Jesus is telling us, “I do not call you to be perfect. Do not fear falling, or failing, follow me and you will rebound. All I ask is that you have faith and follow me.”
In today’s passage, Jesus also tells Peter, “When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.”
Here, Jesus is warning Peter that his newly assigned task of leading the infant Christian Church will be not be an easy one. It will require courage, endurance, and the strength to face a painful death for the sake of the Church; for Jesus’ sake.
Having been given his charge by Jesus, Peter initially worked to establish the early Church by preaching to the scattered Jews and Hebrew Christians in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia. Several years later, Peter went to Rome where he quickly became the leader of the Christian movement, and a favorite of the Emperor Nero.
However, Peter, and the tenacity with which he carried forth his mission to follow Jesus by spreading the Good News and creating a Christian community, soon became a threat to the powerful Roman ruler. Nero decided that he needed to eliminate Peter, and the Christian Church, as well.
Church history says that Peter probably died by crucifixion, with his head to the ground and his arms outstretched, shortly after the Great Fire of Rome in the year 64. A fire that Nero himself set in an effort to discredit the Christians.
Margherita Guarducci, who between 1963 and 1968 led the last stages of the research leading to the rediscovery of Peter’s tomb, concludes that Peter died on October 13 A.D. 64 on the occasion of the 10th dies imperii (coronation day anniversary) of Emperor Nero. The dies imperii was always accompanied by much bloodshed – gladiators, chariot rides – all of the Charlton Heston blood and gore that we’ve seen in movies like The Ten Commandments and Ben Hur.
It was on this bloody 10th anniversary day that Roman authorities sentenced Peter to death by crucifixion amidst all the rest of the bloodshed that was occurring around him. Peter’s burial place is thought to be where the Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome was later built, directly beneath the Basilica's high altar.
Today, we hear that Jesus charged Peter. Jesus charged Peter to feed his sheep and to follow him. Jesus charged Peter with the task of taking the Good News into the world fearlessly, with love, courage, and faith, knowing that his Lord would always be there to guide, support, and forgive him.
Is Jesus’ charge for Peter only? No – Jesus charges us all. He charges us through our Baptismal Covenant; he charges us through the various “calls” that we receive in his name; he charges us in and through the ministry of the lay and the ordained to feed his sheep and to follow him.
Just last Saturday, I was charged by Bishop Dan to “study the Holy Scriptures, to seek nourishment from them, and to model [my] life upon them”. I was charged “to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world.” I was charged “to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.”
Several years ago when Julie was ordained, she was charged “to proclaim by word and deed the Gospel of Jesus Christ.” She was charged “to preach, to declare God’s forgiveness to penitent sinners, to pronounce God’s blessing, to share in the administration of Holy Baptism and in the mysteries of Christ’s Body and Blood, and to perform the other ministrations entrusted to [her].”
When Bishop Dan was ordained, he was charged “to guard the faith, unity, and discipline of the Church; to celebrate and to provide for the administration of the sacraments of the New Covenant; to ordain priests and deacons and to join in ordaining bishops; and to be in all things a faithful pastor and wholesome example for the entire flock of Christ.”
You, the laity, are charged “to represent Christ and his church; to bear witness to him wherever you may be; and according to the gift given to you, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world; and to take your place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.”
Jesus has charged us all – laity, deacon, priest, and bishop. We have all been assigned a job and clearly instructed as to how to carry out that job. We have all been charged to feed Christ’s sheep and to follow him. Like Peter, we will deny, we will avoid responsibility, we will become lost. Jesus knew that would happen; but, he trusted that, as with Peter, and like lost sheep, we would, with the power of the Holy Spirit to guide us, once again find our way.
Last week, after my consecration as a deacon in the Episcopal Church, Bishop Dan, as is customary, presented me with a bible. His inscription in this bible reads, “May the Lord who has given you the will to do these things, give you the grace and power to perform them.”
This was Jesus’ wish for Peter; it is Jesus’ wish for you; it is my prayer for you.
Feed My Sheep…Follow Me
April 18, 2010
“Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him “Feed my sheep.”…After this he said to him, “Follow me.” John 21:15-19
“Feed my lambs;” Tend my sheep;” “Feed my sheep;” “Follow me.” These are Jesus’ words to Peter, today. They are words that form commands; words that confer responsibility; words that imply trust; words foundational to the Christian Church.
They are commands that charge one to go forth in love and faith, both following Jesus and caring for the Christian community at the very same time.
Most certainly, these are commands that would normally be saved for only the most trusted friend or family member.
Yet, wait a minute…wasn’t Peter the disciple who just a few days earlier, during Jesus’ arrest and trial in Jerusalem, denied him twice by saying, “No, I am not one if his disciples,” and then a third time by saying, “No, I was not in the garden with him.”
Wasn’t Peter the disciple who could have come forward and defended Jesus, but didn’t, instead choosing to lurk in the shadows and escape responsibility? Wasn’t Peter the disciple who avoided offering the support that should have been given by one of Jesus’ followers; one of his trusted disciples?
Can it be that Peter – the Peter who denied; the Peter who avoided responsibility; the Peter who lost his way - who has now been chosen by Jesus to lead in his place; to, “Tend my sheep, and follow me?”
How are we to interpret this sudden and complete trust in someone who has just performed cowardly acts of betrayal and untrustworthiness? Someone who had just demonstrated blatant acts unfaithfulness?
We might wonder why Jesus didn’t instead choose John for this role of leadership. At first glance, John seems to be the perfect choice. He was, after all, Jesus’ favorite apostle.
It was John, not Peter, who stood by the foot of the cross as Jesus died, ignoring the danger of being arrested and put to death by the Romans. It was John, not Peter, whom Jesus chose to act as guardian of his mother Mary. It was John, not Peter, who had been the perfect disciple; the ever faithful friend; the dependable one. It seems impossible to imagine a more appropriate choice than John for Jesus to choose to lead his Church.
So why did Jesus choose Peter and not John? Did Jesus know something we do not? I think so – I think that while John was the “perfect” disciple; the disciple who did everything right with unfailing loyalty, Jesus knew that we are all Peter. We are not perfect. We all have moments of weakness; times of doubt; periods of our lives that are not so pretty perfect. We all lose our way – every single one of us. No one of us is perfect. And therefore, because no one could live up to John’s example of perfection, Jesus chose Peter.
Jesus does not expect us to be perfect.
Jesus knew that Peter would rebound from his fall and become the strong, natural leader he was. Jesus knew that by choosing Peter, he gave hope to the thousands of generations that would follow…. It’s as if Jesus is telling us, “I do not call you to be perfect. Do not fear falling, or failing, follow me and you will rebound. All I ask is that you have faith and follow me.”
In today’s passage, Jesus also tells Peter, “When you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.”
Here, Jesus is warning Peter that his newly assigned task of leading the infant Christian Church will be not be an easy one. It will require courage, endurance, and the strength to face a painful death for the sake of the Church; for Jesus’ sake.
Having been given his charge by Jesus, Peter initially worked to establish the early Church by preaching to the scattered Jews and Hebrew Christians in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia. Several years later, Peter went to Rome where he quickly became the leader of the Christian movement, and a favorite of the Emperor Nero.
However, Peter, and the tenacity with which he carried forth his mission to follow Jesus by spreading the Good News and creating a Christian community, soon became a threat to the powerful Roman ruler. Nero decided that he needed to eliminate Peter, and the Christian Church, as well.
Church history says that Peter probably died by crucifixion, with his head to the ground and his arms outstretched, shortly after the Great Fire of Rome in the year 64. A fire that Nero himself set in an effort to discredit the Christians.
Margherita Guarducci, who between 1963 and 1968 led the last stages of the research leading to the rediscovery of Peter’s tomb, concludes that Peter died on October 13 A.D. 64 on the occasion of the 10th dies imperii (coronation day anniversary) of Emperor Nero. The dies imperii was always accompanied by much bloodshed – gladiators, chariot rides – all of the Charlton Heston blood and gore that we’ve seen in movies like The Ten Commandments and Ben Hur.
It was on this bloody 10th anniversary day that Roman authorities sentenced Peter to death by crucifixion amidst all the rest of the bloodshed that was occurring around him. Peter’s burial place is thought to be where the Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome was later built, directly beneath the Basilica's high altar.
Today, we hear that Jesus charged Peter. Jesus charged Peter to feed his sheep and to follow him. Jesus charged Peter with the task of taking the Good News into the world fearlessly, with love, courage, and faith, knowing that his Lord would always be there to guide, support, and forgive him.
Is Jesus’ charge for Peter only? No – Jesus charges us all. He charges us through our Baptismal Covenant; he charges us through the various “calls” that we receive in his name; he charges us in and through the ministry of the lay and the ordained to feed his sheep and to follow him.
Just last Saturday, I was charged by Bishop Dan to “study the Holy Scriptures, to seek nourishment from them, and to model [my] life upon them”. I was charged “to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world.” I was charged “to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.”
Several years ago when Julie was ordained, she was charged “to proclaim by word and deed the Gospel of Jesus Christ.” She was charged “to preach, to declare God’s forgiveness to penitent sinners, to pronounce God’s blessing, to share in the administration of Holy Baptism and in the mysteries of Christ’s Body and Blood, and to perform the other ministrations entrusted to [her].”
When Bishop Dan was ordained, he was charged “to guard the faith, unity, and discipline of the Church; to celebrate and to provide for the administration of the sacraments of the New Covenant; to ordain priests and deacons and to join in ordaining bishops; and to be in all things a faithful pastor and wholesome example for the entire flock of Christ.”
You, the laity, are charged “to represent Christ and his church; to bear witness to him wherever you may be; and according to the gift given to you, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world; and to take your place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.”
Jesus has charged us all – laity, deacon, priest, and bishop. We have all been assigned a job and clearly instructed as to how to carry out that job. We have all been charged to feed Christ’s sheep and to follow him. Like Peter, we will deny, we will avoid responsibility, we will become lost. Jesus knew that would happen; but, he trusted that, as with Peter, and like lost sheep, we would, with the power of the Holy Spirit to guide us, once again find our way.
Last week, after my consecration as a deacon in the Episcopal Church, Bishop Dan, as is customary, presented me with a bible. His inscription in this bible reads, “May the Lord who has given you the will to do these things, give you the grace and power to perform them.”
This was Jesus’ wish for Peter; it is Jesus’ wish for you; it is my prayer for you.
Friday, April 2, 2010
A Letter from The Rev. Lauren Stanley
Dear Friends in Christ:
In Haiti's epicenter, anywhere you walk, you are walking in death.
Everywhere you step in earthquake-devastated epicenter of Port au Prince and Leogane and the surrounding areas, your feet get dirty. There are few open spaces left, and what once was open is now filled with tents and tent cities. There is little sanitation. Garbage is picked up some days, but piles up most others. The rains sweep everything down the streets and sidewalks: raw sewage, mud from the crumbled buildings, the decaying remains of those who died and who have still not been found, still not been uncovered in the rubble.
If any one group of people need their feet washed, especially on Maundy Thursday, it is the Haitians, for they walk in death every single day.
But foot-washing -- a part of the Christian tradition that comes from the Evangelist John's description of the Last Supper, in which Jesus washed the feet of his disciples -- is not a tradition in the Episcopal Church here. I'm not certain why it isn't, I simply know that when I asked, "Do we wash the people's feet here?" I was told, "No."
I wish that were not so, because right now, Haitians need that foot-washing.
Not just because they are walking in death.
But because I think that most Haitians - those living in tents and tent cities, and those who are in their own homes - need the rest of the world to bathe them in the same love in which Jesus bathed his disciples' feet.
The standard explanation of the foot-washing scene in John's Gospel is that Jesus wanted to show how far he was willing to go to be a servant to his disciples, to set an example for them, so that they in turn might be servants as well.
But I have always believed that there is so much more to the story than simply example-setting. I believe that Jesus got on his knees and washed his disciples dirty, smelly, probably ugly feet -- that terribly despised portion of the body that most people really don't want to have washed in public -- I believe Jesus did this as an act of pure love. I believe Jesus took each foot and caressed it, rubbed it, washed it clean, and gently rubbed it dry out of pure love.
And if anyone needs to experience that kind of gentle love, it is the Haitians. They have suffered so much for so long, and then have been torn asunder physically, emotionally and psychologically by this earthquake. Now, the very ground on which they walk is filled with death. What would it be like, I asked the small congregation gathered for Maundy Thursday services at St. James the Just, if we were to have OUR feet washed, and then were to go across the street to the Tent City where approximately 6,000 people are encamped, and wash THEIR feet? What would happen if we were to show to all those in such great need the same absolute, tender love that Jesus showed to his disciples?
We don't do foot-washing in Haiti -- at least, not yet. Pere David Cesar and I talked about possibly introducing the service next year.
But right now, I said, I think it's something that Haiti desperately needs: Gentle, tender, pure love. Each of us, I said, needs to take the love of Christ that we feel -- however big or small -- and share it, gently and tenderly -- with those who need it so much more.
When Jesus got down on his knees, I said, he did it out of love. And that very act alone changed the world.
We, too, I said, can do this. We can get on OUR knees, figuratively and literally, and in doing so change not just Haiti, but the world.
I don't want to walk in death any more. The Haitians don't want to walk in death any more. What they want -- what they NEED, right now -- is to walk in love.
What better way to show that love than to have our dirty, smelly, ugly feet washed, and then to wash the dirty, smelly, ugly feet of others?
That kind of love, that kind of willingness to lessen ourselves so that others may be loved and may find life -- THAT kind of love changed the world once, and it can change the world again.
I really wanted to wash some feet tonight, and I wanted my own feet washed, in the pure, tender, gentle love of Jesus. We did so figuratively. Hopefully soon, we'll do so literally as well.
Blessings and peace in this Holy Week,
Lauren
The Rev. Lauren R. Stanley
TEC Appointed Missionary in Haiti
Assistant to Bishop Duracin,
Partnership Program and Development
Diocese of Haiti
US mobile: 703-678-3892
Haitian mobile: 011 509 3865 8329
MereLaurenS@gmail.com
http://GoIntoTheWorld.net
In Haiti's epicenter, anywhere you walk, you are walking in death.
Everywhere you step in earthquake-devastated epicenter of Port au Prince and Leogane and the surrounding areas, your feet get dirty. There are few open spaces left, and what once was open is now filled with tents and tent cities. There is little sanitation. Garbage is picked up some days, but piles up most others. The rains sweep everything down the streets and sidewalks: raw sewage, mud from the crumbled buildings, the decaying remains of those who died and who have still not been found, still not been uncovered in the rubble.
If any one group of people need their feet washed, especially on Maundy Thursday, it is the Haitians, for they walk in death every single day.
But foot-washing -- a part of the Christian tradition that comes from the Evangelist John's description of the Last Supper, in which Jesus washed the feet of his disciples -- is not a tradition in the Episcopal Church here. I'm not certain why it isn't, I simply know that when I asked, "Do we wash the people's feet here?" I was told, "No."
I wish that were not so, because right now, Haitians need that foot-washing.
Not just because they are walking in death.
But because I think that most Haitians - those living in tents and tent cities, and those who are in their own homes - need the rest of the world to bathe them in the same love in which Jesus bathed his disciples' feet.
The standard explanation of the foot-washing scene in John's Gospel is that Jesus wanted to show how far he was willing to go to be a servant to his disciples, to set an example for them, so that they in turn might be servants as well.
But I have always believed that there is so much more to the story than simply example-setting. I believe that Jesus got on his knees and washed his disciples dirty, smelly, probably ugly feet -- that terribly despised portion of the body that most people really don't want to have washed in public -- I believe Jesus did this as an act of pure love. I believe Jesus took each foot and caressed it, rubbed it, washed it clean, and gently rubbed it dry out of pure love.
And if anyone needs to experience that kind of gentle love, it is the Haitians. They have suffered so much for so long, and then have been torn asunder physically, emotionally and psychologically by this earthquake. Now, the very ground on which they walk is filled with death. What would it be like, I asked the small congregation gathered for Maundy Thursday services at St. James the Just, if we were to have OUR feet washed, and then were to go across the street to the Tent City where approximately 6,000 people are encamped, and wash THEIR feet? What would happen if we were to show to all those in such great need the same absolute, tender love that Jesus showed to his disciples?
We don't do foot-washing in Haiti -- at least, not yet. Pere David Cesar and I talked about possibly introducing the service next year.
But right now, I said, I think it's something that Haiti desperately needs: Gentle, tender, pure love. Each of us, I said, needs to take the love of Christ that we feel -- however big or small -- and share it, gently and tenderly -- with those who need it so much more.
When Jesus got down on his knees, I said, he did it out of love. And that very act alone changed the world.
We, too, I said, can do this. We can get on OUR knees, figuratively and literally, and in doing so change not just Haiti, but the world.
I don't want to walk in death any more. The Haitians don't want to walk in death any more. What they want -- what they NEED, right now -- is to walk in love.
What better way to show that love than to have our dirty, smelly, ugly feet washed, and then to wash the dirty, smelly, ugly feet of others?
That kind of love, that kind of willingness to lessen ourselves so that others may be loved and may find life -- THAT kind of love changed the world once, and it can change the world again.
I really wanted to wash some feet tonight, and I wanted my own feet washed, in the pure, tender, gentle love of Jesus. We did so figuratively. Hopefully soon, we'll do so literally as well.
Blessings and peace in this Holy Week,
Lauren
The Rev. Lauren R. Stanley
TEC Appointed Missionary in Haiti
Assistant to Bishop Duracin,
Partnership Program and Development
Diocese of Haiti
US mobile: 703-678-3892
Haitian mobile: 011 509 3865 8329
MereLaurenS@gmail.com
http://GoIntoTheWorld.net
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Christmas Eve Sermon 2009
CHRISTMAS EVE SERVICE
5:00 PM
December 24, 2009
Luke 2:1-20
Over the past few weeks, at least three people have said to me, “I don’t know, I just don’t feel the Christmas Spirit this year. Maybe it’s because we can’t afford a lot of presents. We’re really pinching pennies right now. Who knows, I may not get anything at all.”
To me, these people are poor indeed. However, their poverty does not come from the fact that they will not receive any Christmas presents this year. No, their poverty stems from their perception that they need presents – this world presents – in order to be happy. Their poverty is the result of an inability to experience the greatest gift of all. A gift that is theirs this Christmas and always – not a gift wrapped in a shiny box or a supersize TV with a big red bow around it – but rather, the gift of life, love, and peace. The gift of God made man - God incarnate. The gift of Jesus Christ, our light and our Savior.
As I was preparing to write this sermon, I gave serious thought to these people who seem to need material gifts in order to experience joy. I found myself wishing that some of them might be here with us tonight as we, who are blessed with the knowledge of Christ, experience the power of his birth in this 2009 Christmas Eve Eucharist service.
I also prayed that I could summon the creative juices that might in some small way bring life to this awesome event, and bring honor to Mary’s glorious words recorded in the Magnificat, “My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior.”
In the end, I decided that I needed all of you in the pews to help me out. The awesome task of honoring Christ’s birth needs to be a community event – a real celebration. So, as we review the birth story in tonight’s Gospel reading, I am going to ask you to speak up on cue from your handout. No singing is needed, although these short quotes are verses from hymns that you will recognize.
No, no singing is needed. What is needed though is a thoughtful reading of each verse when I give the sign. Remember, you are helping me tell the story of this wondrous event.
“While they were there, the time came for her to deliver a child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:6-7)
People: Hymn #101; verse 1
Away in a manger, no crib for his bed
the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay,
the little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay.
Mary and Joseph had travelled from Nazareth to Galilee to register for a census. The purpose of the census was to insure that everyone was accounted for and taxed appropriately. This was a long journey – about 90 miles each way. Whether on foot or by donkey, it must have been a very difficult and unpleasant journey for Mary who was pregnant.
On the way home, exhausted and knowing that Mary might be about to deliver her child, the couple stopped at an inn seeking lodging. All the rooms were filled. Mary and Joseph were offered an alternative place to stay – the manger, a space normally reserved as a shelter for animals. It was in this very humble space that the birth of Christ took place.
Jesus Christ, Son of God, God incarnate, our Savior and our Redeemer was not born in the comfort of a fancy palace or temple. His parents were given no special consideration. The innkeeper did not move an existing guest and give them a real room instead of a dirty animal shed. No grand and glorious welcome befitting a king here. No, Christ was born in the most humble of settings among the poor, the needy, and the vulnerable – among those whom he would serve, teach, and encourage to become his followers, his disciples. Ordinary people, just like you and me.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. Then the angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. (Luke 2:8-9)
People: Hymn #94, verses 1 & 2
While shepherds watched their flocks by night all seated on the ground,
the angel of the Lord came down, and glory shone around.
“Fear not,” said he, for mighty dread has seized their troubled mind;
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring to you and all mankind.”
Shepherds were not rich. Shepherds were not sophisticated. Shepherds were not educated. Shepherds had little, if any, social standing. Yet, God chose them to be the first to learn of Christ’s birth. God revealed himself and the birth of His Son to the most ordinary of men – not to kings or emperors.
Imagine these tired and dirty men out in a dark field, perhaps cold and hungry, minding their own business and tending their sheep when all of a sudden an angel appears before them – an angel in a cloud of glory! They were terrified!
But the angel said, “Fear not.” And then, miraculously, “The glory of the Lord shone around them.”
Somehow the shepherds understood the grace that had befallen them. They heard God. They listened intently and in awe as the angel said, “This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”
“When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. (Luke 2:15-16)
People: Hymn #83, verse 1
O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
Come and behold him, born the King of Angels;
O come let us adore him, O come let us adore him,
O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.
The sheep were forgotten. The shepherds knew in their hearts that they had to see for themselves this miraculous “Thing that had taken place.” They dropped everything, including their livelihood – the sheep – and hurried off to Bethlehem.
These shepherds foreshadowed all those men and women who in the coming years would lay down their worldly goods and gifts to follow Christ – the fishermen, the tax collector, and all the saints who have given their lives to proclaim the Good News of Christ.
As Jesus said to the man who was asking what he must do to inherit eternal life, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” (Mark 10:21)
Once we have seen the glory of the Lord, there is no hesitation, no concern for what others may think or what the consequences of our commitment to Christ might be - no hesitation at all - we simply love, or adore, him with all our hearts, and all our minds, and all our souls.
When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.” (Luke2:17-20)
Hymn #88, verse 1
Sing, o sing, this blessed morn, unto us a child is born,
unto us a son is given, God himself comes down from heaven.
Sing, O sing, the blessed morn, Jesus Christ today is born.
The shepherds were amazed at what they had been told, and what they had seen when they finally arrived at the manger scene in Bethlehem. These very ordinary people served as witnesses to the Incarnation, just as other very ordinary people would later become witnesses to the resurrection.
Other than the angels, the shepherds were the first to proclaim the Good News of Jesus’ birth. Not CNN or Fox News, not the New York Times, not Newsweek or Time Magazine – just ordinary folks like you and me, singing praises from door-to-door.
Tonight, it is very ordinary people like you and me who, once again, are witnessing the birth of Christ. It is very ordinary people like you and me who will follow this Christ-child through the brief but world changing 33 years of his life. It is ordinary people like you and me who will journey with him to his death on the cross, his resurrection, and beyond as we, ordinary people, just like the shepherds, proclaim the Good News of Christ’s birth in ordinary places, over and over again.
As we consider in awe, just as the shepherds did over 2000 years ago, the profundity of this miracle of Christmas Eve, let us open our hearts to the wondrous gift of God made man. Let us pray that we may grow in His likeness until we find eternal love and salvation in His presence, now and ever after.
I hope that you will all receive wonderful gifts in bright shiny boxes whether tonight or tomorrow morning – whenever is your custom to share Christmas presents. But, more than shiny gifts, I hope that right now you will open your heart to discover the greatest gift of all – Jesus Christ.
Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay
close by me forever, and love me I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.
5:00 PM
December 24, 2009
Luke 2:1-20
Over the past few weeks, at least three people have said to me, “I don’t know, I just don’t feel the Christmas Spirit this year. Maybe it’s because we can’t afford a lot of presents. We’re really pinching pennies right now. Who knows, I may not get anything at all.”
To me, these people are poor indeed. However, their poverty does not come from the fact that they will not receive any Christmas presents this year. No, their poverty stems from their perception that they need presents – this world presents – in order to be happy. Their poverty is the result of an inability to experience the greatest gift of all. A gift that is theirs this Christmas and always – not a gift wrapped in a shiny box or a supersize TV with a big red bow around it – but rather, the gift of life, love, and peace. The gift of God made man - God incarnate. The gift of Jesus Christ, our light and our Savior.
As I was preparing to write this sermon, I gave serious thought to these people who seem to need material gifts in order to experience joy. I found myself wishing that some of them might be here with us tonight as we, who are blessed with the knowledge of Christ, experience the power of his birth in this 2009 Christmas Eve Eucharist service.
I also prayed that I could summon the creative juices that might in some small way bring life to this awesome event, and bring honor to Mary’s glorious words recorded in the Magnificat, “My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior.”
In the end, I decided that I needed all of you in the pews to help me out. The awesome task of honoring Christ’s birth needs to be a community event – a real celebration. So, as we review the birth story in tonight’s Gospel reading, I am going to ask you to speak up on cue from your handout. No singing is needed, although these short quotes are verses from hymns that you will recognize.
No, no singing is needed. What is needed though is a thoughtful reading of each verse when I give the sign. Remember, you are helping me tell the story of this wondrous event.
“While they were there, the time came for her to deliver a child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:6-7)
People: Hymn #101; verse 1
Away in a manger, no crib for his bed
the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay,
the little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay.
Mary and Joseph had travelled from Nazareth to Galilee to register for a census. The purpose of the census was to insure that everyone was accounted for and taxed appropriately. This was a long journey – about 90 miles each way. Whether on foot or by donkey, it must have been a very difficult and unpleasant journey for Mary who was pregnant.
On the way home, exhausted and knowing that Mary might be about to deliver her child, the couple stopped at an inn seeking lodging. All the rooms were filled. Mary and Joseph were offered an alternative place to stay – the manger, a space normally reserved as a shelter for animals. It was in this very humble space that the birth of Christ took place.
Jesus Christ, Son of God, God incarnate, our Savior and our Redeemer was not born in the comfort of a fancy palace or temple. His parents were given no special consideration. The innkeeper did not move an existing guest and give them a real room instead of a dirty animal shed. No grand and glorious welcome befitting a king here. No, Christ was born in the most humble of settings among the poor, the needy, and the vulnerable – among those whom he would serve, teach, and encourage to become his followers, his disciples. Ordinary people, just like you and me.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. Then the angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. (Luke 2:8-9)
People: Hymn #94, verses 1 & 2
While shepherds watched their flocks by night all seated on the ground,
the angel of the Lord came down, and glory shone around.
“Fear not,” said he, for mighty dread has seized their troubled mind;
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring to you and all mankind.”
Shepherds were not rich. Shepherds were not sophisticated. Shepherds were not educated. Shepherds had little, if any, social standing. Yet, God chose them to be the first to learn of Christ’s birth. God revealed himself and the birth of His Son to the most ordinary of men – not to kings or emperors.
Imagine these tired and dirty men out in a dark field, perhaps cold and hungry, minding their own business and tending their sheep when all of a sudden an angel appears before them – an angel in a cloud of glory! They were terrified!
But the angel said, “Fear not.” And then, miraculously, “The glory of the Lord shone around them.”
Somehow the shepherds understood the grace that had befallen them. They heard God. They listened intently and in awe as the angel said, “This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”
“When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. (Luke 2:15-16)
People: Hymn #83, verse 1
O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem;
Come and behold him, born the King of Angels;
O come let us adore him, O come let us adore him,
O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.
The sheep were forgotten. The shepherds knew in their hearts that they had to see for themselves this miraculous “Thing that had taken place.” They dropped everything, including their livelihood – the sheep – and hurried off to Bethlehem.
These shepherds foreshadowed all those men and women who in the coming years would lay down their worldly goods and gifts to follow Christ – the fishermen, the tax collector, and all the saints who have given their lives to proclaim the Good News of Christ.
As Jesus said to the man who was asking what he must do to inherit eternal life, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” (Mark 10:21)
Once we have seen the glory of the Lord, there is no hesitation, no concern for what others may think or what the consequences of our commitment to Christ might be - no hesitation at all - we simply love, or adore, him with all our hearts, and all our minds, and all our souls.
When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.” (Luke2:17-20)
Hymn #88, verse 1
Sing, o sing, this blessed morn, unto us a child is born,
unto us a son is given, God himself comes down from heaven.
Sing, O sing, the blessed morn, Jesus Christ today is born.
The shepherds were amazed at what they had been told, and what they had seen when they finally arrived at the manger scene in Bethlehem. These very ordinary people served as witnesses to the Incarnation, just as other very ordinary people would later become witnesses to the resurrection.
Other than the angels, the shepherds were the first to proclaim the Good News of Jesus’ birth. Not CNN or Fox News, not the New York Times, not Newsweek or Time Magazine – just ordinary folks like you and me, singing praises from door-to-door.
Tonight, it is very ordinary people like you and me who, once again, are witnessing the birth of Christ. It is very ordinary people like you and me who will follow this Christ-child through the brief but world changing 33 years of his life. It is ordinary people like you and me who will journey with him to his death on the cross, his resurrection, and beyond as we, ordinary people, just like the shepherds, proclaim the Good News of Christ’s birth in ordinary places, over and over again.
As we consider in awe, just as the shepherds did over 2000 years ago, the profundity of this miracle of Christmas Eve, let us open our hearts to the wondrous gift of God made man. Let us pray that we may grow in His likeness until we find eternal love and salvation in His presence, now and ever after.
I hope that you will all receive wonderful gifts in bright shiny boxes whether tonight or tomorrow morning – whenever is your custom to share Christmas presents. But, more than shiny gifts, I hope that right now you will open your heart to discover the greatest gift of all – Jesus Christ.
Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay
close by me forever, and love me I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Sedona...here I come!
Well, the place for reflection has been decided upon. July 1-5 will be spent in Sedona, AZ, a truly beautiful and spiritual place. I have also decided that two days sans computer is a part of this retreat process. This has been quite a year. I can't believe all that has happened in my life since leaving Florida just 18 months ago. Most especially, I can't believe that my ordination is becoming a reality. There is so much to think about, so much to continue to discern with regard to my call from God. As we approach the day of Pentecost, I am filled with an overflowing sense of the Holy Spirit and his presence in my life.
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