Trinity Sunday

If you remember back to ten reasons to do church, that I talked about last week, you'll remember that I began with eating. Much of our gathering together is around eating a meal, eating bread and drinking wine. I'm reading a fabulous book called People of the Way, Renewing Episcopal Identity, by Dwight Zscheile (Shylie), he writes

"Every Sunday at ordinary Episcopal churches, something extraordinary takes place. In a society in which tables of hospitality are mostly closed off to strangers, a public feast is held. You don't need to buy a ticket to this meal. Not everyone necessarily knows each other; not everyone gets along perfectly, but they come together nonetheless. The food is simple stuff - bread and wine - about to become something more than itself. As the story is told and songs are sung, a change takes place. Hearts are lifted. The brokenness in the lives of each of the participants, and the brokenness of the world, is brought into focus. Healing begins to pour through it. Lives turned inward are opened outward. In the midst of the messiness and richness of this meal is the presence of Jesus, felt and known through the Spirit, tasted in the bread and wine, inviting us and the whole of the world into community with God." (p.44)

I think this description of what we do when we gather together has everything to do with Trinity, which we recognize today. I've told you before about the time when I was in high school at my regular Sunday evening youth group meeting. The young priest came to teach us all about the Trinity. I figured I'd have all my questions answered that night, but no, I left more confused than I was when I arrived. But it's really not that hard. Theologians and systematicians make it more confusing than it has to be. You know, in many churches that have multiple priests on staff, it's always the new guy that preaches on Trinity Sunday because no one else wants to.

Trinity is a way of talking about the richness of God's communal life. Trinity is community with God, it is relationship. It is God's nature to create others to share in God's life. As followers of Jesus in the first few centuries sought to make sense out of the relationship between the Jesus they had known as Lord, the Spirit they experienced in community, and the God of Israel to whom the scriptures gave witness, they developed the doctrine of the Trinity.

The reading we have before us today from Isaiah shows us the God who is creator of all, of all that is seen and unseen, holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts. And from Romans we see the Spirit that bears witness that we are all children of God. In John, we see Jesus, who comes into this world and lives and loves and suffers and dies and absorbs all the pain and suffering and violence on the cross. Jesus speaks to Nicodemus about what new life is all about. This is Trinity. It is how God presents Godself, it is how we humans imagine God in relationship. It is a model of how we may live this life in community with others on the way.

I bind unto myself today, the strong name of the trinity, by invocation of the same, the three in one and one in three. Creative, compassionate, merciful. Father, son, spirit. Mother, daughter, servant. Composer, musicians, music. Author, story, reader. Swimmer, water, breath. Steam, liquid, ice. Light, wave, particle.

Essentially, the Trinity says what our sacred text says at its opening creation story: that it is not good for humans — or God for that matter — to be alone; that meaning is created in community and through relationships; that we do better as creatures when we join hands rather than raise fists. Trinity is God experienced in community, Trinity is God's abundant and amazing love spilling out creatively as it includes all of God's creation. Trinity is much less a doctrine, and much more a dance. A dance in which everyone participates.

So what does Trinity mean for us today? So many people believe the story that dominates American life today, you indeed may be one of them. That you are what you earn or achieve, that identity must be cobbled together from a wide array of shifting possibilities, that you must work incessantly at securing meaning and community because these things are not given. Amidst competition, consumerism, anxiety, and opportunity, life is what you make of it, largely on your own. Underneath these swirling waters of struggle lay the deep currents of isolation, fragmentation, and despair.

The story that we tell, the truth that we tell, is one in which every human life is precious beyond measure, created for loving relationship with the source of all life. In this story, your worth is given, not earned. You are welcomed into a community in which no one goes hungry, differences need not be a cause of division, but a gift to be celebrated, you are offered forgiveness and are released to forgive others. You are claimed by a love and power beyond your own. You are held in arms of grace, you are part of a community in which Love wins. And in that, you are freed to participate in the restoration of human community and all creation.

Trinity calls us to wholeness, to relationship, to community. Trinity calls us away from isolation, and frees us to call each other neighbor. Our response to that is to participate in what God is already doing in the world. If our God is a God of relationship, of community, of co-creativity, maybe that's what our mission is in the world. Maybe participating in what God is already doing in the world is about building bridges, reaching out, inviting others into the Love that wins, the love that embraces every one no matter what.

Maybe participating in what God is already doing is about accompanying people, walking with people who are hurting, and offering partnership in that. It isn't always about relieving suffering, sometimes it is walking the path with others, like Jesus does. Maybe participating in what God is already doing is about responding to those who would crucify us, with love and not revenge, therefore absorbing hate like Jesus does, instead of inflaming hate. Maybe participating in what God is already doing is showing that Love wins, like Jesus does, instead of spewing words of judgement.

Trinity, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer, is about participating in a web of relationship, eating with a community of people, dancing with others to the music of the seraphim. It is proclaiming with Isaiah, Here I am, send me! It is proclaiming with Jesus, Love wins. Amen.

The Feast of Pentecost

We often talk about the Feast of Pentecost being the birth of the church. It's not about the birth of the church as we know it today, in our contemporary minds we often equate church with the church building, and church with institution. But these readings don't point us to buildings or institutions, they point us to people who are filled with the Holy Spirit. People who become followers of Jesus. People who know that in their lives, Love wins.

Indeed, today I think Pentecost is about breaking out of the framework, and being about God's reconciling mission in the world. Pentecost is about being a follower of Jesus and doing it together, with other people on the way. And for us, it is about doing it in this peculiar and particular way as Episcopalians at St. Andrew's. As I've been reflecting on church, and as I've been influenced by a few "top ten" lists I've seen floating around blogs, I've come up with my own "ten reasons to do church." They are actually in no particular order.

1 Church is where there is always something to eat, and everyone gets fed. We know our risen lord in the breaking of the bread, we know our risen lord in the sharing of a meal, we know our risen lord in the hearts and the faces of those we feed as well as in the feeding. Something mystical and amazing happens when we are made Jesus' body through the sharing of a meal. We are made whole, we are put back together, we are joined with God and with one another.

2 Our liturgy, what we do when we are gathered together, makes sense of our lives. Because many of us live hectic and full lives, we make room for silence. Because we need a language for worship of that which is not us, we pray with words and symbol, we pray with music and song, we pray in order and in chaos. Because when the pain gets too hard to bear, we have a place to put it here, in this place. And when the joy and gratitude bubble over, there are others to catch it and share it.

3 No matter what you believe, there's bound to be at least one other Episcopalian who agrees with you. That one is not really mine, it's from Robin Williams, who is an Episcopalian. We engage in the very important skill of theological reflection. We engage the world, and we consider it through the lens of scripture, tradition, and reason. We read scripture together, we learn about its context, we talk about it, we even argue about it, and we make up our own minds as to how we live its call in our lives. You don't have to check your mind at the door. And no matter what we gather around the table and eat together anyway.

4 People love one another. That is an action, not necessarily a feeling. We treat each other, and all those who come looking for acceptance, with dignity and respect. And when we don't, we ask for forgiveness and are granted it. This is a vision of the kingdom. In God's kingdom, all are loved, all are cared for, all are forgiven. In church, we fall short but that continues to be the vision.

5 Children are always welcome, old people too, and gay people and straight people for that matter, and ordinary people, and extraordinary people. God loves everyone, no exceptions, and church, this church in particular, lives that out. Again, not perfectly, there are times when we forget who we are, we forget that our number one priority is to welcome all as Christ welcomes all.

6 There are some important times in people's lives that we pay attention to: birth and baptism, marriage, death, and even the times in between, birthdays, wedding anniversaries, times of sickness and suffering, times of joy and celebration, comings and goings. We pay attention to these times because it is often at these times the time and distance between us and God, us and the others in our lives, thins. It is these times when we lift our hearts and our voices to give God praise, to ask for strength and courage, to turn to one another for support, not because we have to, but because it is what our humanity calls us to. We talk to God and with one another in the words that come into our hearts and our minds, and when we cannot find the words to say what needs to be said, we turn to our Prayer Book. We turn to the words that have been said and prayed through the years, the decades, and the centuries. There we can place our joy and our sorrow, and know that we are held in the awesome presence of our Creator God, our Father and Mother God, our loving God.

7 We show up consistently, we listen, we tell the truth, and we try, hard as we might, to let go of the outcome. This one is the foundation of all ministry. We show up. That's a tough one these days. There is so much that demands our attention. There are many, many things we could be doing besides coming here to do this each Sunday morning. But we know that it's not about having the time to come, none of us really have any time, instead, it's about knowing that to be whole people, we need to stop for a few moments, stop and listen to God and to one another. We show up.

We listen, we listen to God's word, to one another, sometimes you even listen to me, I try to listen to you. We listen in the silence of this space, we listen to the cacophony of the marketplace, we listen to the music of the spheres and the music we make together. We listen.

We tell the truth. How hard is that? The truth that God loves you no matter what. The truth that God came and comes into this created world to walk with us on the way. The truth that there is pain and suffering and sometimes life just sucks, but we are not alone. The truth that in Jesus life, and suffering and death on the cross, Love wins. The truth that nothing belongs to us anyway, the truth that we are stewards of God's creation, stewards of our children, stewards of this beautiful building, and we live in gratitude for all of it.

We let go of the outcome. See number eight.

8 We recognize that God is God and we are not. We are not the center of the universe, we are not the hub of the wheel, we are not the most important of God's creation. We are interdependent, we are one part of a mighty creation, we are not in control. We let go of the outcome.

9 We recognize that we are transformed by God's amazing and abundant love in Jesus Christ. The relationship that God has with us changes us, the relationship we have with others changes us. We begin to look more and more like people of mercy and compassion, we begin to look more and more like people who feed each other, who feed the hungry. We begin to look more and more like people who miss the mark, ask for forgiveness, and are loved regardless.

10 We go out into the world as followers of Jesus, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, and to visit the imprisoned, see number 9. We embody mercy and compassion, we listen to God's call in our lives, we seek to get on board with what God is already blessing. We recognize that God is the greatest healing and integrating force in an increasingly fragmented world. We understand that it is our call to be the peace makers, the light bearers, the agents of healing and reconciliation in the world.

So there's my ten reasons for church, and for this church. On this Feast of Pentecost, I ask some questions about the future of the church. How do we keep ever reforming, ever emerging? How do we find a way to speak in a language people can understand? How do we stay nimble, that is, how do we respond to the global nature of the world in which we live, and how do we respond to the ever more instant communication that people have in their hands and at their disposal? How do we help people to see that true freedom is in relationship with God, with Jesus, with the Spirit, and with others?

I have ten answers, see above. Love wins. Amen.

7 Easter Yr B

These readings we have before us in these days, the story of the resurrection, the story of the road to Emmaus, the story of the Ascension, the story of the birth of the church at Pentecost, are all stories that challenge our perspective, stories that challenge us to remove the limits we have put on our own humanity. As I challenge you to change your perspective, I offer this about a young woman I know. Today I challenge you to see life, death and resurrection from a new perspective, and to do so, I want to tell you about Pam. I know Pam from my days of coaching swimming at the Blaisdell YMCA. Pam was in high school when she swam for the team. She was one of those who showed up for practice, who worked very hard, who had some good times but wasn't a first place swimmer, and who had a lot of fun. I remember Pam most clearly as one of four on the relays. In those days she was all about supporting her teammates, swimming her very best, having a great attitude, and helping out when and where she could. Pam actually reminds me of myself. Rick and I were married during one of those swimming seasons, and Pam, with all the other girls in her relay, were at our wedding, we have pictures of all of them at the wedding, the whole team in fact. Pam's children, two little girls, swim for the Blaisdell YMCA swim team. Now my sister, Mary, who coordinates aquatics there, knows Pam and her husband and their children well. About six months ago, Pam was diagnosed with a brain tumor. After a little radiation, it was clear there was nothing to be done. I have kept up with Pam's dieing by way of the Caring Bridge website. Her sisters write about once a week, they write about their sister, they write about their nieces mother, they write about their brother-in-law's wife, and as I read what they write I am reminded of the young woman I knew so many years earlier. Today she is a sister who is supportive and present, a mom who is filled with joy at the live's of her children, and a wife who is attentive to her loving husband. And the story they are telling about life and death is heartbreaking, honest, and grace-filled. Pam lives in a thin place, the door to her new life is open wide, and soon she will step through it. Her sisters also tell a story of perspective. Pam has lost so much, she has lost the ability to run and play, and yet every smile and laugh and hug are treasured. The gap between Pam's life and death is minuscule, really non-exsistent. It really is no different for us. I share this story with you today to illustrate perspective. The value of our lives and our relationships all depend on where we stand and what we see. We perceive a time and space gap between us and God. We perceive a chasm that stretches from here to eternity. But, you see, the gap between this life and the resurrected life only seems big and wide and deep from our perspective. I am pretty sure from God's perspective, the gap between new life, the resurrected life, is not so big. From Pam's perspective, there is no gap, that place is thin and holy. With Jesus' life, death, resurrection and ascension, and the gift of the holy spirit, the gap has been closed. Why can't we live in those thin places, where God's love and grace are so very close. We get so hung up in that perceived gap. We get so concerned with time and space that we can't even seem to function. We ask questions that miss the point. We wonder how much time we have before we must or are forced to turn around and pay attention to God. We ask about what happens to us after death. Some people focus so desperately on right and wrong behavior. And we wonder why, why do good people, young people, get brain tumors and die. But all of that misses the mark. The life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus show us that God's love is operative right now. God's love was, is, and will be forever. God's love is available to all, no exceptions. There is no gap between God and us. God is with us in love, God is with us in the gift of the spirit, God is with us in one another. Our job is to respond to that love, not at some later date, not once and for all, but now, and again, and again, and again. Our response to God's love looks a lot like the fruits of the spirit; love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Our response to God's love looks a lot like how we live our lives, and how we die our deaths. Our response to God's love changes our perspective. And the story of the ascension shows us that Jesus is with us always. I don't quite understand how that works, it's the gap thing all over again, but that is the wrong perspective. The ascension shows us that somehow in this Good News that love wins, God's love is made available to every one at every time, when life is good and joyful, and when life is hard or broken. At some time and in some space, Jesus physically walked this same road we are on. But one of the limitations of embodied humanity, Jesus' embodied humanity, your embodied humanity, is that we occupy physical time and physical space. Another limitation of embodied humanity is that we stop occupying physical time and physical space. What changes with Jesus is that God shows us that God loves everyone, no exceptions, at all times and in all places. What changes with Jesus is the gift of the Holy Spirit. What changes with Jesus is that the gap is closed between God and creation, God and us. Our response to God's love changes our perspective. The story from John we have before us today is actually a Jesus prayer, it's the other Lord's prayer. In it, Jesus asks God for joy and protection for us, for all of us who occupy this life. With the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, the gap is closed. Our response to God's love changes our perspective. The cracks in our hearts are filled with God's healing love. The cracks in our relationships are filled with God's forgiving love. The cracks in our perfection are filled with God's perfect love. The space between God and us is thin, the gap is closed, Jesus does that for us. From God's perspective, we are already enveloped, engulfed, we are already one. Our job is to respond to God's love with mercy and compassion. As we respond with mercy and compassion, as we respond with the fruits of the spirit, as we respond with joy and grace, our perspective changes. We are transformed, and Love wins. As we respond to God's love with joy and grace, the situations in which we find ourselves are transformed. We become the peacemakers, the graceful ones. We become the bridge between God and those whose hearts have been hardened, and their perspective changes. The space between God and us is thin, the gap is closed. Love wins. Amen.

5 Easter Yr B

As our grass finally turns green, as the tulips bloom brightly in our gardens, as the lilacs delight the senses, as my beloved purple iris open their blossoms to the sun, we celebrate this rite of spring. All winter long we yearn for the warmth of the dirt, and the smell of the dirt as we dig and play in it. All winter long we give thanks for any moisture that comes our way, knowing that it's falling from the sky results in new growth. Even when spring comes early, we are out planting, hoping against hope that there is no more frost to bring our work to naught, but secretly thinking it really doesn't matter because it's just a wonderful excuse to be outside and not inside. Before us today is a passage we all know well. I'll read it again in Eugene Peterson's translation, The Message. "I am the Real Vine and my Father is the Farmer. He cuts off every branch of me that doesn't bear grapes. And every branch that is grape-bearing he prunes back so it will bear even more. You are already pruned back by the message I have spoken. Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can't bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can't bear fruit unless you are joined with me. I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you're joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can't produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that whatever you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who he is—when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples." The gospel of John is rich with metaphor, ripe with meaning. At the very least, this is a passage about growth and grapes, but it also tells us something of how to live, and it is very much about following Jesus. In our collection of readings this morning it is coupled with 1 John, God is love, and we, followers of Jesus, must love our brothers and our sisters. Eugene Peterson translates, live in me, make your home in me, which I find very helpful. Other translations use abide in me, and remain in me. All of these invoke intimacy and connection. God, the farmer, God the vine-grower, God the gardener, wants us, each one of us and all of us to remain connected to our source, to our creator, and in doing so, we not only grow but we bear fruit. The image is to remain connected to the vine, it doesn't say, in any of the translations, that we are to connect ourselves to the vine. Our organic and natural state is connection. The vines that fall away are gathered together and thrown into the bonfire. Apart from the vine, our lives result in disconnection, disorientation, disintegration. It's a beautiful image, the farmer caring for the vine and the grapes, a pastoral image that maybe some can't image in this time of immediacy, in this age of instant results. I was wondering about an image that could possibly be similar today, and I think of your computer, or my iPad, devices that give us instant communication and fast results, but that don't work unless sometimes we connect them into the power source to be re-enlivened. They really would just be typewriters on steroids without the internet and the world wide web that connects us to people and information all over the known world. Even Facebook and all the other social media portals would be nothing if it were not for all the others we get connected to. Are they live-giving? That question remains to be answered, but for matters of metaphor they'll do. And to what end are we given this illustration, this tangly vine metaphor that John uses? It is about being disciples, it is about following Jesus, it is about loving our brothers and our sisters. The point is to bear fruit, and in bearing fruit, God is glorified and we are disciples. To be a disciple is to follow Jesus. It really is as simple as that, we try to make it so much harder. We get so caught up in semantics sometimes, you and I sometimes even bristle at the word Christian, because it means one thing to some, and another thing to others. You and I and all of us together follow Jesus. That is what we are to do, as we follow Jesus we bear fruit, and we glorify God. So what does this call to bearing fruit look like? Picture a vine laden with grapes, so heavy it pulls itself to the ground if not held up by some sort of trellis. So heavy with grapes they can't help but spill over onto the ground, so colorful that they can't help but make the hands of the picker all blue and purple. Our call to bearing fruit causes our love to overflow like those heavy laden grape vines. And our call to bearing fruit is very clear in the passage in first John, it is to love our brothers and sisters. It is to love our brothers and our sisters. These are the brothers and sisters who make us crazy, these are the ones you can't live with, and you can't live without. These are the brothers and sisters you wish would call more often and who talk too much on the phone. These are the brothers and sisters you fight with and who you sit down to dinner with. These are the brothers and sisters who drink too much, tell dirty jokes, and die much too early. These are the brothers and sisters who take care of your parents just like you do. These are the brothers and sisters who produce your nieces and nephews. These are the brothers and sisters who won't pick up their toys, who hit you in the back seat of the car, who want to watch a stupid movie when you're trying to watch your own stupid movie, these are the brothers and sisters you love no matter what. It's a good thing Love wins, because there are those days when loving your brothers and sisters is absolutely impossible. We don't pick our brothers and our sisters. There are those we wish were are brothers and our sisters, the ones we like, the ones we get along with, the ones we invite over for sleepovers, the ones who love us just the way we are. I'm really thankful for them, I call them friends. And, we count ourselves lucky when our brothers and our sisters are also our friends. But still, that's not what fruit-bearing and following Jesus are really all about. Following Jesus is about what we do not only when it's easy and convenient, but what we do when it is not easy or convenient. Of course loving our brothers and sisters is about loving our brothers and sisters, but it is so much bigger than that. It is also about loving our brothers and sisters who live on this giant rock with us, because we are all related. Following Jesus is about that relationship. Following Jesus is about gratefully acknowledging our creator God's relationship to us each and every day. Following Jesus is about gratefully acknowledging our connection to one another every day. Following Jesus is about finding the relationship between people, finding the connection between us and the other, finding the way to acknowledge one another's dignity and worth, even when that seems impossible. Following Jesus is being connected to this vine that gives us life. Because it is Love that wins, after all.

4 Easter - Deacon Marty Garwood

In a different time and in a different place, our worship space might be entirely different:  with a long central aisle, pews on both sides, stone walls punctuated by tall narrow stained glass windows depicting many of the Bible stories that are so familiar to us.  Perhaps on a particular Sunday, the morning sun would be aligned just perfectly to highlight the Good Shepherd window.     But in the here and now of St. Andrew’s we don’t have those types of stained glass windows.  We do, however, have a number of wonderful paintings that invite us into the stories.  This particular painting usually hangs in the garden room but this morning we have moved it here so that our feast on the Liturgy of the Word can be both visual and auditory.   Scripture has many many references to shepherds and stories about how they cared for their flocks.  Here in western South Dakota we aren’t very familiar with shepherds.  The stories we do hear often refer to sheep herders rather than shepherds and the stories don’t usually bear repeating.     The people listening to Jesus were familiar with shepherds.  Not only were shepherds important because the economic reality of the time demanded that great care be given to the flocks; but the identity of the Hebrew people was tied intrinsically to their history of being a nomadic pastoral community.  The stories they told about who they were as a people included the stories of ancestors who were shepherds.     Their ancestor David was a shepherd before he was anointed by Samuel to become the king.  Other shepherds in their history – in our history – include Jacob, Rachel, Abraham, and the prophet Amos.   The Prophet Jeremiah related the promise of God in these words:  “Then I will give you shepherds after my own heart, who will lead you with knowledge and understanding.”  According to Jeremiah, God also promised:  “Woe to the shepherds who are destroying and scattering the sheep of my pasture!” declares the LORD.”  There were great blessings to being a shepherd but there were also great responsibilities.   The saga of the Exodus from Egypt is a classic story of being in the care of a shepherd.  The Hebrew people had been called by their Shepherd to be the people of God.  God knew them by name and called them his own.  Like a good Shepherd, God led them through the wilderness, protecting them from enemies.  The Shepherd led them to springs of water and to life giving sources of food.  They were led to a promised land where they could rest after their wanderings.     We too are led through the wilderness of life by the Good Shepard who calls us by name and claims us as his own.  We are given – with no strings attached – the gift of love.  Set before us is the promise of a banquet complete with all that is needed to sustain our bodies and our souls.  Our wounds are healed and we have the assurance of faith that in the care of the Good Shepherd there is nothing that we need to fear.   I invite your attention back to our painting this morning.  Take a moment to gaze upon the picture.  Don’t focus too strongly but rather let your vision blur just a little around the edges.     There – did you notice it?  The features of the shepherd in the painting began to shift just a little.  The Shepherd began to resemble you – He began to resemble me.   Jesus is not the only good shepherd in this relationship we have with God.  You and I are also called to be shepherds of this flock of God’s creating.  We have been given hearts after God’s own heart.  We have been shown what being loved can be like and we are called to love in return.  The witness or the testimony of our lives being lived deeply grounded in the love that God has for each and every one of us declares to the world who and whose we are.   When Jesus met his disciples on the shore of Galilee following His resurrection, Jesus asked Peter three times if Peter loved him.  Each time, Peter said yes, of course – each time more emphatically than the last.  Following Peter’s third declaration of his love, Jesus than told Peter “feed my sheep”.  That is exactly what we are called to do.  We are to feed God’s sheep in every way imaginable.   We are called to tear down the fences and to build bridges over the abyss that separate us not only one from another but that also separate us from God.  We are all one flock separated by divisions put there by humankind.  God has called us all by name and loves each of us unconditionally.  As shepherds, we are to tend the flock God has created – a flock of which we are a part of.  We are to unify and strengthen that flock.  We are called to lay down our lives out of love for God and for one another.  We are to die to those things which we allow to prevent us from caring for one another.  We will experience resurrection in a new found way as we live out God’s purposes for us in the world today.  We are to be the hands and feet of Christ right here where we live our extraordinary every day lives.   In her book “Gospel in the Global Village Seeking God’s Dream of Shalom” Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefforts Schori wrote the following: “After all, the baptized may all be sheep, but they also have a vocation to be shepherds – every single one of us.  It is a way of talking about our vocation to follow Jesus, working to heal the world.”   Bishop Katharine also states “that to participate in God’s mission of healing the world – puts fear into most of us, if we are honest.  It is an enormous and awesome and impossible job.  Yet we continue to go, most of us, every day, to build the reign of God – one encounter and one person at a time.”   Our ability to serve as shepherds is grounded in the peace and confidence that is given to us through Jesus – the Good Shepherd.  When we call ourselves Christians, and pattern ourselves after Jesus Christ, then all that we are and all that we do works to the betterment of God’s kingdom.  We are to seek and serve Christ in all others – loving our neighbor as ourselves.     There is nothing too small or too insignificant – all that we do matters.   Let me share some of the ways I have seen you serving as shepherds.   I see a younger sibling praising the accomplishments of an older sister. I see you faithfully bringing food items so that others may be fed out of your bounty. I see a spouse caring for a husband or wife who is not in good health. I see you providing transportation so that others may attend events in the community as well as church functions. I see you participating in programs that protect God’s creation – our environment. I see you returning your neighbor’s trash can to the head of the driveway so it doesn’t blow down the street. I see you going out of your way to learn more about a culture that is different from your own so that you can teach your children. I see you welcoming the stranger to the community because you too have been in their shoes. I see you praying not only for those you know but also for those you do not know. I see you taking time for yourself – for rest and relaxation – because you know that if you don’t minister to yourself you won’t be able to minister to others.     Of course, this is an incomplete list.  This is only a sampling of the many ways in which we all serve as shepherds.   Earlier this week I opened my e-mail and found an entry from a blog by the Rev.Tim Schenck.  Father Schenck is the rector at St. John the Evangelist Episcopal Church in Hingham Massachusetts.  This particular blog entry was about sharing the Peace – or as Father Tim describes it - the Holy Half Time.  It is meant to be that moment during the liturgy when “By exchanging The Peace with one another we are forced to confront the reality that we worship in community, not because it happens to be convenient or always easy, but because Christ gathered disciples around himself and calls us into community as well.”   As I prepared for this homily, I found myself returning again and again to Father Tim’s words about what the peace of God really means.  I believe that in offering the peace of God to one another, we are living into our roles as shepherds.  So I offer you a challenge this morning.   Rather than attempting to hug or shake hands with as many people as possible – approach two or three people.  Take time to look each one in the eye.   And in your best shepherd voice offer them the peace of God.  By that I mean really offer them – the lay your burden down, come rest with me, drink of the living water, and eat of the bread of life – Peace of God.  This is what the Good Shepherd brings to you and me.  It is the least of what we can offer to others.   Alleluia!  Christ is Risen The Lord is Risen Indeed.  Alleluia!

3 Easter Yr B

We hear in today's gospel as we heard last week from John, Jesus stood among them and said to them, "Peace be with you." They were startled, and terrified and thought they were seeing a ghost. I read that there were ghost stories told in the 1st century, the great Roman author and statesman Pliny the Younger recorded one of the first notable ghost stories in his letters, Pliny reported that the specter of an old man with a long beard, rattling chains, was haunting his house in Athens. I imagine, like there were many stories about messiahs and prophets floating around, there were ghost stories as well. In this story, the author wants us to know that this was really Jesus, "Look, I'm real, I eat, give me something to eat and I'll show you." Is it just a ghost story, or something terribly more important about who we are and what we are to do? In this story, Jesus says "Peace be with you," and then Jesus goes on to tell them that they are to proclaim repentance and forgiveness and are witnesses of these things. An important detail in this story, a detail that we could easily overlook, is that Jerusalem is where Jesus' crucifixion took place, and it is where the disciples are when this story takes place. Forgiveness, repentance, and the offering of peace begins right where the disciples are, even though it is a rather hostile place for all of them at that time. What it means for us is that forgiveness begins right where we are. Not with someone else or someplace else, but right in our own homes, in our own cities and villages, and right in our own hearts. I think so often we think forgiveness is up to someone else, it's up to someone else to forgive us, but it's not, it's up to each of us, it's up to you and to me. Forgiveness and reconciliation only begin when our own hearts are softened. What's more, Jesus' friends in this story are startled and terrified. They don't have some sort of zen peacefulness, they don't have some sort of courageous exterior, they don't have the latest self help bestseller that tells them exactly what forgiveness and reconciliation look like, or the 7 habits of the successful forgiver, or the top 10 ways to reconcile with your neighbor. What Jesus is showing them is that the work he did on the cross and in the resurrection already made possible the new life that they are living. That work doesn't take away their fear, it doesn't take away our fear, but it does make it possible for us to live life's of forgiveness and reconciliation. Jesus did Jesus' job, now our job is to practice forgiveness and reconciliation in every aspect of our lives. So, there's a story I was so struck by a while back that I need to tell you about it again. In February 1993, Mary's son, Laramiun Byrd, was shot to death during an argument at a party. He was 20, and Mary's only child. The killer was a 16-year-old kid named Oshea Israel. Mary wanted justice. She said, "He was an animal. He deserved to be caged." And he was. Tried as an adult and sentenced to 25 and a half years -- Oshea served 17 before being recently released. He now lives back in the old neighborhood - next door to Mary. How a convicted murder ended-up living a door jamb away from his victim's mother is a story, not of horrible misfortune, as you might expect - but of remarkable mercy. A few years ago Mary asked if she could meet Oshea at Minnesota's Stillwater state prison. As a devout Christian, she felt compelled to see if there was some way, if somehow, she could forgive her son's killer. "I believe the first thing she said to me was, 'Look, you don't know me. I don't know you. Let's just start with right now,'" Oshea says. "And I was befuddled myself." Oshea says they met regularly after that. When he got out, she introduced him to her landlord - who with Mary's blessing, invited Oshea to move into the building. Today they don't just live close - they are close. Mary was able to forgive. She credits God, of course - but also concedes a more selfish motive. "Unforgiveness is like cancer," Mary says. "It will eat you from the inside out. It's not about that other person, me forgiving him does not diminish what he's done. Yes, he murdered my son - but the forgiveness is for me. It's for me." For Oshea, it hasn't been that easy. "I haven't totally forgiven myself yet, I'm learning to forgive myself. And I'm still growing toward trying to forgive myself." To that end, Oshea is now busy proving himself to himself. He works at a recycling plant by day and goes to college by night. He says he's determined to payback Mary's clemency by contributing to society. In fact, he's already working on it - singing the praises of God and forgiveness at prisons, churches - to large audiences everywhere. "A conversation can take you a long way," Oshea says to one group. Unforgiveness is like a cancer, forgiveness and reconciliation are like a healing balm. Forgiveness is not about being perfect, forgiveness doesn't mean a crime goes unpunished. But forgiveness is about living fully alive, forgiveness is death and resurrection. Forgiveness is what Jesus' activity is all about. The Greek word for being ‘saved’ is also translated “made well,” “healed,” or “made whole.” It refers not to some private transaction between God and the soul, but to the healing and transformation of the whole person! But the story is about something else too. It is about the peace that Jesus offers us, and the peace we offer one another because Jesus is present with us. We say to one another, Peace be with you, and the other responds, and also with you. You see, this reconciliation, this peace making is part of what it is to be whole, and it is what we do before we come to the table together. This forgiveness, and reconciliation, and peacemaking is amazingly important, because it bears witness to something that is incredibly important. Our gospel story today tells us to bear witness to this important thing. We bear witness to things that are important to us all the time, things that maybe are not quite so important. We bear witness to the great movies or television programs we've seen and want others to enjoy. We bear witness to the accomplishments, or failures, of our sports teams. We bear witness to the important events in our family or work lives. We bear witness -- that is, tell someone about -- the things that matter to us all the time. It's not really all that different when it comes to faith. Witnessing does not mean shoving our faith down someone's throat or threatening them with eternal hellfire if they don't believe like we do. It's simply telling others where we sensed God at work -- at home or work, at church or school, through a stranger or a friend, a doctor or teacher or neighbor, even through ourselves. Bearing witness is nothing more than saying where you think God is at work in your life and the world. We bear witness all the time; we're just not used to thinking about doing it in terms of our faith. We must bear witness to God's love in our lives, we must bear witness to forgiveness, and to peacemaking. Our lives bear witness to Jesus' love. We must bear witness that Love wins. Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

2 Easter Yr B

After a long day of waiting with his friends, after his friend Jesus had died, Thomas was nowhere to be found. Maybe he figured this thing was over and done with, they couldn't even find Jesus' body, who knows what the soldiers had done with it? Who knew he would miss Jesus? Who knew that Jesus would show up, that was absolutely unimaginable, unreasonable, too much to hope for. But his friends told him afterwards that Jesus was with them. That Jesus had said to them "Peace be with you" and had showed them his hands and side where the holes were.

Thomas scoffed at his friends and said, "You're kidding, right? That can't be true. Besides, in order for me to believe you, I'd have to put my hands in those holes myself." His friends shook their heads and walked away, remembering that Thomas was always the one who wanted proof, he wanted evidence, and in this case, he wanted the gory details.

They met together the next week as usual, and this time Thomas was there. They gathered together in the same room that they had always gathered in, and shut the doors behind them. They were still afraid that the soldiers might come after them.

And then, Jesus was there standing among them. How did he get there?How did he get in? All the doors were locked. Again Jesus said, "Peace be with you," and then he walked right over to Thomas and looked him in the eyes and said, "Thomas, I know you've always been the one who needs not just to know the facts, but you need to feel too. Go ahead, put your fingers on my hands, feel the holes. Go ahead, feel the holes in my side. Feel Thomas, feel the reality of what God has done."

As I listen to this story over and over again, what begins to make sense is that this story is not about belief, or doubt, or even proof and evidence. When I read this story, I realize this is about recognizing Jesus in our midst
in an absolutely new way. I imagine Jesus didn't look the same as his old self. The story says that Jesus said to them, "Peace be with you," he showed them his hands and his side, and then they recognized him, "this is Jesus." This resurrected Jesus was recognized in an absolutely different way.
He didn’t walk through the door like the ordinary Jesus, the doors were locked. They recognized Jesus in his words, Peace be with you, and receive the Holy Spirit. They recognized Jesus in his wounds. They recognized Jesus in transformation.

Maybe Thomas wasn’t there the first time not because he doubted, maybe Thomas wasn’t there the first time because he already knew. Maybe Thomas was already out doing the work of recognizing Christ in others, maybe Thomas was already out bringing the good news of God in our midst to the lonely, the outcasts, the thrown away. Maybe Thomas already knew that if you want to know that God is real, that Christ is alive and at work in the world, the best place for you to be is out there, in the world. Maybe Thomas was the brave one.

Resurrection is not about magic. Resurrection is about the reality of the Kingdom of God. Resurrection is about the God who created all that is seen and unseen, the God who created you and me, doing this absolutely new thing in human history. Resurrection is about this new creation that was begun with Easter, and continues as we encourage one another to be active in projects of new creation, projects of healing and of hope. When we are active in projects of healing and hope, we are standing on the ground that Jesus has won in his resurrection.

According to NT Wright, the Bishop of Durham, in England, writing on resurrection, we are not only the beneficiaries of new creation, we are the agents of it. You and I, when we are active healers, when we are active hopers, we are living in the new creation, and bringing about the Kingdom of God. Thomas, I think, was already about Kingdom business.

Together and with Jesus, we have journeyed through the dark times, we experienced betrayal and lies, we experienced the suffering and death, and we come to this place today, with Thomas and Jesus’ other friends and know that we are made new creations because of the journey. We are made new creations by what Jesus did, and we are agents of new creation by what we do.

Do you need to know what is meaningful? Do you need to know what is real? Do you need to know that God is real? Do you need to know that Christ is alive, that sin and death itself are not the last word? Do you need to experience Christ’s presence? Do you want to touch Jesus, and know that Jesus is really right here with you?

Then hear Jesus’ commission to those upon whom he breathes his spirit; you are being sent out, into the world, and specifically into the world’s brokenness. You are being sent to touch those places, to proclaim and participate in the reconciliation and the healing that is Christ’s work in the world, to be the agents of new creation and transformation in the world. You are being sent because you, each one of us about to gather at Jesus’ table right here, and at every other table at which bread is being broken in remembrance of him, are now the Body of Christ, Jesus’ presence at work in the world, called and empowered to do what Jesus did.

If we want to know what is real, if we want to experience the transformation in Jesus, if we want to recognize Jesus, not only do we do that in this place and at this table, we’ll also have to leave the rooms we lock ourselves in because of fear. We need to do what Thomas did, get out into the world, and insist on touching Christ’s wounds. We can’t sequester ourselves from the world’s pain, we can’t isolate ourselves from our own pain. We can’t numb our pain, or over stimulate ourselves in order to feel something. We can’t keep our mouths shut because we don’t know the words to speak.

Fortunately, Jesus keeps after us, breathing peace and power to go out there and touch the places where the Body of Christ suffers. Jesus keeps after us breathing peace and power to go out there and show people what is real, where there is meaning. Jesus keeps after us, showing us that pain and sorrow, suffering and isolation, do not need to keep us enslaved to fear.

How do we recognize Jesus? How do we experience Jesus? How do we know? By getting out there, by going into the world and doing the work of reconciliation, the work of healing, the work of hope, the work of building relationships, by doing the work that Christ does.

Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!