Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

 I'm in way over my head!  Where is God in all of this?

Imagine, if you will, that you have been sent by God to your people to demonstrate God’s power over and against 450 false prophets before the kingdom.  In a mighty display of God’s power, you call down fire from heaven, completely obliterating the false prophets.  There is a giant pause as this object lesson settles in. People are amazed; they are frightened and break out into astonished applause. Then the crowd turns and walks away as you begin your well-rehearsed speech about being the true prophet of God. Then, the queen of the kingdom, out of fear, turns against you and forces you to flee to a cave in a humiliated retreat. What went wrong?  Where is God in all of this?  Such is the situation Elijah finds himself in in today’s Old Testament reading from Kings.

After the great spectacle of God’s almighty power, the demise of the prophets of Ba’al, God appears now to Elijah, not in a way he appeared to Moses: wind, earthquake, and fire; God was not in the great wind, not in a mighty earthquake, and not again in fire, but only in a “tiny whispering sound”. Elijah hears the sound, but if Israel won’t pay attention to fire raining down from heaven, what will a whisper do? God tells Elijah that he is to go and anoint another leader and that a remnant of Israel will be faithful. So, the whisper leads to a renewal of a remnant of Israel (7,000) who reestablish God’s covenant with the faithful, the faithful who found God in a whisper.

With such great and grand injustices in the world, who doesn’t long for God as spectacle? Fireballs raining down on false prophets (or at least on ISIS!). Fireballs against our enemies, bread for the hungry, hope for the poor. What we get is a whisper that lies below the din of talk shows, political speeches, and mob violence; the whisper speaking to all who listen, who quietly and with great faith assert God’s presence in the whisper of individual acts of love well on the sidelines of social media.

Jesus, responding to the fear of his disciples in a boat on rough waters, accepts Peter’s rather glib challenge and calls him from the boat. Peter’s salvation comes not by being successful at walking on water but succeeds in having his faith deepened in Christ’s saving him from his own fears and doubts. In this case, again, God was not in the storm, not in the spectacle of turmoil, but in quieting the storm and allaying fears. “Lord if it is really you, command me to come to you on the water” was Peter’s rather dim-witted proof of trust (If it wasn’t Jesus, but perhaps Satan, why not fool Peter?). Somehow, deep in Peter’s consciousness, he knew Jesus—present or absent-- would protect him, and he stepped out of the boat.

    Faith didn’t save Peter, but Christ’s unconditional love; you don’t need to have great faith to be saved by Christ, but you’ve got to step out of the boat. You’ve got to be willing to fail at walking on water, at having your spectacular plans fail so that you can fall into the arms of the living God whose call is a whisper no one seems to hear.

The Transfiguration of the Lord

 Do You See Me Now?

    To be transfigured means to change bodily; in Greek, the word is metamorphosis. Jesus, in today’s gospel, is transfigured to be radiant as God is radiant. Clearly, the event makes clear the divinity of Jesus to Peter, James, and John; but why now?

     The Transfiguration is a “book-end” event in Jesus’ life. It marks the beginning of the end when Jesus moves toward his death in Jerusalem. Like the baptism (the other “bookend”), the voice of God the Father announces His pleasure towards the Son. More importantly, it positions the disciples, Peter, James, and John, as new priests, those selected to mediate God to His people as on Mount Siani when Moses took up Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu (Exod 24:9) to see the presence of God, to enable them to witness to God’s presence. In the case of our story today, Jesus is the new Moses, and the three high priests are replaced by the new priests of Peter, James, and John. Matthew is connecting the old with the new to reveal the fullness of Jesus’ identity, the one who embodies both the Old Testament Law (Moses) and the Old Testament prophets (Elijah). The story establishes Jesus’ divine authority, the revealing of Jesus’ closeness to the Father.

     What was revealed on Mt. Sanai with Moses now becomes the new revelation of the New Law with Jesus as the law-giver. The new Law becomes the summation of the Law and Prophets in Jesus’ statement of the requirement to love God and neighbor (the summation of the Law and Prophets); only, in this case, it isn’t a text that has been given to the people, it is God who has now been given to His people in the person of Jesus. The message is no longer confined to text but lives in the heart of every believer via the Holy Spirit. It replaces Temple sacrifice and priests who stand between God and humanity and replaces it with priests who stand with every believer who also is priest, prophet, and King by virtue of their baptism. The “Holy of Holies” of the Temple has been replaced by access to God himself in the Eucharist, not mediated by the priest, but offered to the people as the minister of The Sacrament so that we who receive the Body and Blood may, in turn, convey this healing Grace to the world sick with sin.

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

 

The Weeds in the Wheat: Stay Out of the Garden! 

 

This parable is part of a series of parables Jesus continues to use, which develops Matthew’s theme of fulfillment (“I will open my mouth to speak in parables; I will proclaim what has been hidden from the foundation of the world” --Psalm 78). Indeed, this parable is part of a series of parables about the acceptance and rejection of Jesus. This theme of acceptance tinged with rejection is especially relevant for Matthew’s community, which, at the end of the first century, is experiencing rejection within the Jewish community.

 Today’s parable suggests the “weeds” appearing among the “wheat” represent those within the Christian community who are subverting Christ’s kingdom, “the field.” On another level, the field is the landscape of the human heart where the Christian must pursue the spiritual life while struggling against the evil from within.

In response to the “weeds among the wheat,” Jesus counsels patience and tolerance. It is the Son of Man who will oversee the final judgment and separation of the weeds from the wheat. We are asked to refrain from weeding the fields lest we destroy the good with the bad. Christians on a weeding tear have historically done a great deal of damage. Think of the Inquisition and the Crusades as a couple of notable examples. In considering the substantial damage done to the kingdom by zealous gardeners, best we leave the wedding to the pros (ref. The Trinity). But what can we do with our itch to weed? 

Perhaps our zealous weeding should first be practiced within our hearts, where the Holy Spirit and mature spiritual direction can bring about a more excellent purification. Put away your weed killers and trowels; see what the weeds look like first that lie sprouting within your heart, and by the time you have finished that job, God’s judgment will surely have been visited upon the world.

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

 L

Last week's gospel referenced the "little ones" as Jesus' disciples, and this week Jesus uses "little ones" again only this time declaring them the true wise ones because they lay no claim on earthly wisdom. Those who follow Jesus, then, while small and insignificant by the world's standards are the true imitators of Jesus in being the least as Jesus declares that he too is "meek and humble of heart" and invites all those who wish to share in this to follow him.

How often have we stood in the shadow of some great edifice that seems to be designed to make the visitor feel small and insignificant? Federal buildings often have this quality, and unfortunately, so do many churches. Of course, the reason given by church architects is to allow the glory of God to overwhelm us with His grandeur. It makes people small rather than welcoming the small to feel valued. The Church Jesus built isn't overwhelming because it makes visitors feel small; it's overwhelming because it makes the "little ones" count.

God is better represented as the God of the Cross rather than the God of the lightning bolt. The Cross wins obedience not through the power of compulsion but through the compelling power of love. The Good News of Christ is that the God we worship is more interested in being a "little one" among us than threatening us with His cosmic power.

Truly the good news we share is that though the world may want obedience through coercion and power, the God we worship desires obedience by accepting the loving embrace of a joyful father welcoming home a prodigal son.

The Third Sunday after Pentecost

 

“Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give”

As Christians living in the twenty-first century, we have little to fear. In this country, about sixty-three percent of Americans identify as Christian, a clear majority, and few fear persecution or death for their beliefs, unlike Jesus’ disciples or other Christians living in societies hostile to their faith. Jesus was sending his disciples “as sheep in the midst of wolves.” There was plenty to fear.

Matthew was writing his gospel during tough times. The tension between followers of Jesus and the established Jewish synagogue and the overall tension between the Jewish people and the Romans were increasing. Matthew’s gospel was addressed to the community at Jerusalem around 70 A.D., the year the Romans destroyed the Temple and caused widespread chaos both for the neophyte community of Jesus’ followers and the mainstream Jewish population. The need to affirm Jesus’ authority as Messiah permeates Matthew’s gospel, and today’s reading with Jesus sending out his disciples to evangelize the Jewish people would have been particularly timely for Matthew’s community. Jesus depicting the disciples being sent as feeling “troubled and abandoned” is an understatement.

The second descriptor of these disciples as needing a shepherd seems particularly apt when you consider how Jesus contemplated being killed at the hands of the Roman and Temple authorities, a feeling shared by the leadership of Matthew’s small Christian community in Jerusalem. What happens to sheep without a shepherd? They are devoured by wolves. It is difficult for us to imagine how desperate Jesus and Matthew were to get the message of God’s kingdom out to the “lost sheep of the house of Israel”. What could Jesus’ disciples, or for that matter, Matthew’s community offer coming from such a troubled community? They offered hope; their mission was to heal. But how can the wounded heal? Jesus summed it up by declaring the healing they received came free to them and “without cost you are to give”.  Who better to heal than those who are being healed?

We, too, are being sent. We begin our missionary journey, though, in our hearts. Before we can share God’s healing, we must realize God’s work in us that has begun. We don’t need to be cured to heal, but we need to know what the wounds look like. Before we can be Christ to the world, we need to see Christ in the world, present in the least and the last, the wounded and weak. As Christ’s glorified body still bore the wounds of his crucifixion, so we go forth using our wounds as proof of God’s healing and how real for us the coming of God’s kingdom is, because it has arrived.

The Body and Blood of Our Lord

 

Become What You Receive

St. Augustine’s famous admonition on the Eucharist, “Behold what you are; become what you receive,” reveals the dynamic between the taking and becoming the blessing of the Eucharist. 

In the Eucharistic celebration, the priest’s actions are taking, blessing, breaking, and giving; the part that is often left out of the discussion is the taking and becoming of all who receive. But we who receive are also taking, and rather than blessing the bread, the bread becomes a source of blessing for ourselves so that we might be a blessing to the world—the world yet to be transformed by Christ. Also, rather than breaking the bread, we become broken in our blessing. In Augustine’s saying, “Behold what you are” comes before “Become what you receive.” Approaching the Body and Blood of Christ sacrificed for us, we behold our great need for God’s grace because we experience blessing. The image of brokenness works on two levels: to be shared, the substance must be divided and broken. In the sharing of ourselves, we freely distribute the blessing we have been given and have become. Broken also suggests the suffering of Christ’s sacrifice, the “way of the cross.” We must become true flesh, accept we are not gods, break our egoism to bless and celebrate our humanity.

We then, in our common priesthood, in our lives, do what the priest does at the altar: We take, bless, break, and give, stripped of our false humanity, and reveal a great blessing that God has sanctified, what He has created and found very good.

The Most Holy Trinity

 "Batter my heart three-person God"

--John Donne, "Meditation 14"

Preaching on theological-theme-Sundays is particularly challenging because it invites abstraction and can quickly turn into a lecture; even in a seminary, seminarians want to hear a homily rather than a lecture at Mass.

The Holy Trinity is difficult because the official declaration of God's identity as "three persons, one God" seems to run contrary to our understanding of what it means to be a person. For many, such language brings up popular images of "multiple personalities" in a single person suffering from a mental disorder. There is a quotation from the spiritual masterpiece The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis that gives us a great place to start:

What good does it do to speak learnedly about the Trinity if, lacking humility, you displease the Trinity? ( Book 1, Chapter 1)

The first thing we should recognize is that any theological understanding finds its ultimate meaning in the goal of all Christian life: to allow God to transform us daily into becoming more like Christ. With that in mind (and heart), let's consider today's readings, how the Blessed Trinity is revealed in them, and the implications for our life in Christ.

One of the essential characteristics of the Trinity is God's nature revealed through relationships not only among the persons of the Trinity but also with us. God's revelation is an invitation to join this relationship of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God has become known to us through revelations (the Prophets), redemptive action (Jesus as Christ), and acting within us (The Holy Spirit) in such a way as to recognize in oneself and one's neighbor, the Divine. This three-part structure: God-self, God-revelation, and God-within, is the basis of how we know God.

Deuteronomy speaks of God's existence in both heaven and earth, acting in both revelation and redemption.

...fix in your heart, that the LORD is God in the heavens above and on the earth below, and that there is no other . . . . that you and your children after you may prosper, and that you may have long life on the land . . . ."

In Paul's letter to the Romans, he explicitly writes of God in terms of Father and Spirit and of being "heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ." The text takes an interesting turn, then, and suggests that this relationship is only fully recognized (The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit) "if only we suffer with him." Paul is suggesting that we will be led by the Spirit into the sufferings of Christ to enter into the glory of the Father. How often do we regard God as aloof and incapable of suffering because of the attribution of "perfect". Something perfect does not suffer, but God as Christ, did suffer (contrary to the rather insipid claim of the Gnostics) and does suffer. The reason God suffers, for Paul, is clear: we are all God's children. God suffers because of His great love for his creation and his perfect love expressed in our free will to walk away from our inheritance. God must experience us quite often like a petulant child who walks away from Disneyland to play in the backyard on a dry, brown lawn with broken toys in the summer heat to spite his parents. God sees what we could be because he has blessed us with his grace to share in His glory.

In Matthew's gospel, the Trinity is explicit in the triadic baptismal formula with the promise that the role of the disciple is to teach the world "all that I have commanded you." If you remember, three weeks ago, Jesus commanded his disciples: "Love one another." The mission, then, of both the Church and the individual, is one of "going out" into the world, as Christ and the Father "went out" of themselves---God in creation, revelation, and redemption, Christ in perfect obedience to the Father. This centrifugal force of the Spirit, though, is only possible as a fruit of loving one another--the centripetal force of the inwardness of God's presence within us and Christ's presence in the community of the faithful. What draws us together leads us to the mission. 

The mission will "batter" us, to quote the epigraph from Donne, but we live because we are embraced by God's Spirit in following the battered Christ resurrected. Donne's pleading seems masochistic until one realizes that to join in this family of God's children, the way of life and glory is also the way of suffering and death for love of the other, embodying the practice of the Trinity. Who could ever understand such love?