27 May, 2012

Easter 7--Final Sermon Given at St. Mark's

Easter 7
Final Sermon at St. Mark’s



         I have a confession.  When I first read today’s passage from Acts, I was not pleased.  In fact, I was down right annoyed.  As you all know, this morning I was ordained to the transitional diaconate.  To get to this point, I worked with four bishops, three dioceses, numerous clergy, countless interviews with Commission on Ministries, an MDiv from LPTS, a year traveling back and forth to Chicago for an Anglican studies certificate, and a week long examination that is similar to the most horrendous hazing you can imagine.  I wrote countless essays answering every question imaginable about my faith and my theological position on so many things, some of which I didn’t even know had theological positions.  And I had to endure not one but two psychological examinations (and yes I passed them both much to my children’s surprise.)  All this and then I read that Matthias was chosen to replace Judas by casting lots?!?!?!  You’ve got to be kidding me—and so I have stewed, and I have thought, and I have prayed trying to understand how we as the church got from casting lots to the discernment process I endured.  And beyond that, how does this speak to each of us as we discern God’s will for our individual lives and for our lives as a community?
         It can probably be said that this was one of the first crisis the church, or rather what was forming into the church endured.  Imagine the rollercoaster of emotions these 11 men have experienced.  They witnessed Jesus arrest and death.  Sad, scared, possibly feelings of betrayal that their leader and Messiah is gone compounded by the fact that one of them—Judas—someone they trusted and thought they knew—someone in fact that Jesus had chosen—was the one who betrayed Jesus.  Then Alleluia Christ is risen—jubilation, incredulous—oops don’t stay there too long, now Jesus again talks to them in what seems to be riddles.  They’ve asked him a question and he replies “It isn’t for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has set by his own authority.  Rather, you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has  come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” (Acts 1:7-8)  Now that’s a little intimidating and overwhelming—to the ends of the earth is their responsibility?  And then poof he’s gone—ascended into heaven, and they’re waiting in Jerusalem for something they don’t really understand.  And they have to make sense of it—they have to make sense of everything that has happened and they have to try to put some sort of structure together; some sort of form of what is to become the church.  This community of faith must discern together how they are to move forward—this is where todays passage from Acts finds us.
         I’m beginning to feel less annoyed and to have a little more compassion for these men.  I imagine all of us here have been in a similar place at some point in our lives either individually or has a community.  An array of emotions, turbulence and just plain changes good or bad—choices to be made, decisions to be acted upon, and as faithful people we have tried to discern what God would have us do.  We have are faced at times with making decisions big and small.  And then the really big one, trying to discern the will of God for our lives;—how do we know what we are called to do in our own lives and in our community of faith?  What tools, if you will, do we have to help us?  I think what we first go to as people of faith is Scripture and that is just what the disciples did. 
         Peter stands up and begins to take on the leadership role.  He tells them Scripture had to be fulfilled.  Jesus didn’t mess up choosing Judas he assures them; Scripture even foretold it and Scripture also says we have to choose another.  Possibly he was referring to Psalm 69:25 which says, May their camp be a desolation; let no one live in their tents and Psalm 109:8, May his days be few;  may another take his place of leadership. And so they cast lots to decide trusting that God’s will will be discovered.  Casting lots which to us seems a little like shooting craps was an ancient acceptable often used biblical practice for determining God’s will.  These men used the tools they had Scripture and tradition with a little reason thrown in to discern together God’s will.  They used the tools, and then they stepped out in faith with the confidence that God was with them.
         Where does that leave us today?  We still have Scripture, tradition and reason.  How many of you have scoured Scripture looking for the answer?  Looking for the passage that will make it all clear?  Scripture has been used for comfort, and scripture has been wielded as a weapon and brought about much pain for people.  So how do we know what some of these passages mean?  How much easier would life be if we simply had to find the right passage that clearly told us what to do—situation A look here, B here.  How much easier life would be if each and every issue we face was directly addressed in Scripture—easier, but can you imagine the size of that Bible?
 In our Psalm for today it says “Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; but their delight is in the law of the Lord and they meditate on it day and night.”  It almost makes it sound like there are a bunch of rules we need to memorize, sort of like learning your math facts—but what a burden that also seems.  That doesn’t sound like a happy are those to me.  The Jewish people of the past and the people of today understand the Torah as a blessing, not a burden.  It is to give life not to suck the life out of you.  Rowan Williams current Archbishop of Canterbury says that “And the Christian gospel is skeptical about me getting it right.  The Gospel is faintly cynical about our motives for keeping rules.”[1]  No, meditating on Scripture, the discipline of prayer these things don’t give us a set of rules, but they are a blessing. As we read Scripture, and as we deliberately practice a life of prayer, we begin to change from within in the way we live, and the decisions begin to flow from those changes.  Scripture and prayer along with other “disciplines” help to form us to live a life rather than giving us the answer to a specific decision.  They help us to live a life faithful to the Gospel.  Who we are flows from who we are becoming in our faiths. It’s a process a lifelong process.
         It’s not a crystal ball that is formed in our minds; it’s not as though each and every decision we make comes easily; and it’s certainly not that we sometimes (okay often) mess up.  But as we learn to live our faiths instead of just talking about our faiths, as we step out in faith,  we are not alone. That is the Good news; we are not alone as individuals or even as a community of faith.  In Jesus’s final prayer which we heard in today’s Gospel, Jesus prays that we will be protected; I guess he knows we’re going to make mistakes; that we are going to be tempted; that we are going to be confused.  That sometimes even with the best of intentions we may get off course.  And so he intercedes for us.  He also asks that we be sanctified in the truth—sanctify—it’s a process of becoming holy.  It’s a process that we live and will continue to live all the days of our lives. 
Over the last several weeks as my ordination date approached, I have become more and more well I guess you could say a jumble of emotions.  I have felt joy; I have been humbled; I have felt very unworthy and even with all the graduate school and internship training I have felt that I wasn’t prepared.  Many of you have heard me say in response to the question,, “Are you ready for ordination?  Or Are you excited?” I feel like I’m going to throw up.  What a saving grace these words of Jesus prayer have been to me—to know it’s a process, a life long process. 
In our Baptism we are asked many questions- I reread them this morning and was comforted by the words of a few particular ones, “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?  And will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?  We will mess up all of us, we will fall into sin; we will make really dumb choices, (kid of like perpetual teenagers) but those choices don’t define us.  Those choices, those mistakes—they are not our identities.  Our identity is being children, made in the image of and living into the image of God and we are striving, we are learning, we are trying to figure out and live our lives of faith.  And we are not alone.
 Jesus prayed this prayer on the night before he died.  He knew that the disciples were going to be scared, lonely, angry, hurt, confused and he left them a parting gift—an intercession for them and for us.  We are not alone—thanks be to God.

        


[1] Rowan Williams, “Is There a Christian Sexual Ethic?” in A Ray of Darkness, p. 140

26 May, 2012

Happy Birthday Church


Pentecost Homily

          About 10 years ago we went to the baptism of one of my nephews in a church of another denomination.  There was no Eucharist—and as we were leaving one of the children said that didn’t even feel like church; all the others agreed.  I must admit, although I’m embarrassed to do so, I was kind of proud and to be completely honest I felt a little superior.  I’m not sure I actually thought this, but I know I felt a bit like, “yeah we do church right.”  I’m embarrassed to admit that, but I suspect I’m not the only one here this evening who has felt this way.  Honestly, I’m betting that we have thought similar thoughts even about other Episcopal churches—high church, low church, contemporary, Rite I, Rite II—you get the picture.  Church right?  When we say it like that it sounds down right snobby, elitist, and wrong.  That’s because, well, it is.  Who are we to say what is right, what is wrong, and how one SHOULD worship?  Yet “we” have done just that for hundreds of years.  I’m not going to go into all the ways we have done this, but take a look at and think about colonialization.
          Today is Pentecost—the birthday of the Church (big C church).  It’s not the birthday of the protestant church, the Anglican church, the Episcopal church or St. Mark’s church.  In our readings we are reminded of this.  On that first Pentecost, the disciples spoke in many languages and the devout Jews heard and understood in their own native tongues.  They were all devout in their own churches, in their own worship, in their own cultures.  They all heard and were filled with the Spirit—slaves, free, men, women—no hierarchy—no one person received more—all equal.  The Holy Spirit was sent for the whole world in its many cultures.  We are reminded of this and challenged by it.  Challenged to accept that how someone else encounters the risen Christ, worships the risen Christ may be different than how we do—how I do.  Different does not equal less than.
          Yes I know there are some just plain wrong ways—I don’t think anyone here would argue that Jim Jones idea that people could meet Christ through mass suicide was right, but that is not what I’m proposing, reflecting on, considering.  I meet the risen Christ each week in the Eucharist; perhaps someone else meets the risen Christ through dancing in the aisles, and someone else through the sacredness of nature.  Even amongst our own congregation, there are differences in practice—some drink from the cup others intinction (dipping), some genuflect, some pray with open palms.  During one of the recent funerals, I was asked what was the right way to receive communion?  I paused and answered, there is no one right way.  I think today I would add—how one receives is less important than that one receives with an open heart and the expectation to encounter the resurrected Christ.
          We don’t know how that first Pentecost happened.  It’s a mystery—a mystery that is not necessary to figure out.  What we can learn from it is that the Holy Spirit is still present and present for all.  The Holy Spirit comes to us in our particularity in our particular context, in our own ways of understanding.
          Life can be consumed with competition—ya’ll know how competitive I can be.  But in this, we neither need to be nor should we be—we need not compare on a better or worse scale.  We can share our differences, try to understand our differences, be stretched and challenged by our differences, and perhaps mysteriously be transformed through our differences experiencing the power and presence of the Holy Spirit in ways we never imagined possible.  Happy Birthday to the Church—one and all.