Bridging the Gap
Readings: 2 Samuel 11:1-15; Psalm 14; Ephesians 3:14-21; John 6:1-15
In the Old Testament reading we are directed away from the public life of King David into his bedroom, his very private life. It is not a pretty picture. In fact one might wonder if this is the same David at all. This surely cannot be the same David whose story has unfolded over the past few weeks. David, the shepherd boy whom God chose to lead the people of Israel, to be their King, David who danced with joy before God as the Ark of the Covenant was brought into the city, David who renewed his Covenant with a loving God?
For today we hear of David’s torrid affair with Bathsheba. And the story does not end with his adulterous behaviour. The story goes on to tell of David’s conniving to unite husband and wife in an attempt to cover up his own guilt. Having failed in his attempt, he engineers the death of Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, clearing the way for his own marriage to her. His self-serving willfulness is in direct contrast to his previous acceptance of God’s will.
Indeed, what place does such a story have in Scripture? What could it possibly teach us about Christian living? Yet it is not the only example of its kind in Scripture. We read many examples of people wanting to do good, and yet doing wrong. It is reflected in the words of Paul when he admits that the things he wants to do are the very things he doesn’t do, and things he doesn’t want to do are the very things he does. And do we not all resonate with that?
It is the struggle we all face, for it is part and parcel of our human nature. It is not that we condone such behaviour. It is that the struggles of David and of Paul are such human struggles. Hearing such stories may give us heart as we deal with our own struggles. We too want to do good, even to be good. Most of the time we manage to suppress what we recognize as being evil. But far too often we are simply unable or unwilling to distinguish between right and wrong. Even when we know the difference, we can choose to ignore it.
It is a paradox which pervades all of society. It is systemic. We do not have to look very far to know that. A look at any newspaper reminds us of that fact. We see it on every newscast. Wherever there is war or an act of terrorism, it is happening. And always we are faced with the discrepancy between rich and poor. But then that has been with us throughout all the ages, even in Jesus’ time. We certainly see that in the Gospel for today.
Hungry people are coming to Jesus. There are the curiosity seekers who are looking to be witnesses to a miracle. There are those who are sick hoping against hope for a cure. There are the spiritually bereft who need to experience Jesus’ care and compassion. All of them are hungry. They keep following him. The crowd swells until there are at least five thousand people gathered. People need to be looked after. How do you take care of five thousand hungry people out in the Galilean countryside?
Jesus turns to Philip, "Where are we to buy bread for them to eat?" He understands the many kinds of hunger they are experiencing. But he knows that their physical needs must first be met. He asks, not because he does not know what to do. He asks as a challenge to the disciples to respond to those who are in need. It is a test of their faith.
Philip's response is very human, totally realistic. We can all hear ourselves saying the same thing. "Six months' wages will not buy enough bread to feed all these people." Philip is right. There is not enough money in the coffers to take care of the problem of feeding five thousand people. If it depends on wealth, the situation is hopeless.
But it doesn’t. It isn't. For Jesus takes bread, simple bread, the everyday food of the poor, bread made of barley, five little loaves, provided by a little boy. His lunch! Jesus gives thanks. He gives it to the people. They eat and are satisfied. They are no longer hungry. They are full.
God’s action in history is a paradox when it comes to hunger and fulfillment. Jesus feeds five thousand people. They have their hunger sated. With a few fish, a little bread, and a word from Jesus, they eat and are filled. Many people are starving, but because Jesus has compassion on a few of those hungry people, and because a little boy has a lunch, they eat and are filled and go home. In the whole scheme of things, it was not very spectacular. It just happened and Jesus left it at that.
Many people are starving in our world. We need to ask ourselves if we are doing enough. What does the Gospel call us to do? As one of the richest nations in the world, we Canadians can find all sorts of reasons why it is not our responsibility to end world hunger. “After all,” we will say to ourselves, “not even six months wages will buy enough bread to feed all the hungry in the world.” And while I am preaching this sermon, twelve thousand children in the world will die of starvation. No matter how we look at it, it is wrong that one in five people go hungry every day. And you will tell me that they go hungry because of famine, or war, or the many natural calamities that take place on our planet. But they go hungry primarily because those of us who can choose to ignore their plight hold the wealth of the world. The situation is getting worse, not better. The number of hungry people has steadily increased since 1995. In part it is because governments and international agencies neglect agriculture relevant to the very poor in favour of wealthy nations. Consider the hype over the failure of the corn crops in the United States. Much of the problem exists, not because corn is needed to feed hungry people, or even to feed animals, but because it is being used to make ethanol in countries hungry for cheap fuel. The current worldwide economic situation is further contributing to hunger as wealthy nations consider their own needs. As well, over the past few years there have been significant increases in the cost of food production. What may be a source of grumbling for most of us is devastation to millions of people worldwide who have very little income.
The central act of the church is a common meal. Each Sunday we gather in communion with one another. Together we celebrate the Eucharist. Through that celebration we participate more fully in the life of Christ. Bread is taken. It is blessed, broken and distributed. We share bread and wine with each other as a sign that in our daily lives we strive to share our bread, our blessings, and ourselves with others.
The bridge between God’s abundant provision and the world’s desperate need is the sacrificial love offering of each of us. It is a significant act, for it demonstrates the meaning of the cross. Through the sacrificial act of Christ salvation came. Jesus gave all that he had. A child gave all that he had. We offer all that we are and all that we have. There are so many hungry people. It is not for us to question why. It is for us to use all of our gifts to provide the answer. God acts through us to bring about what is needed. We may feel as insignificant as a little boy with five barley loaves and two small fish. But we are not insignificant to God. By his grace we can be channels of love to others.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
Proper 15, Year B
Let’s Dance an Alleluia!
Readings: 2 Samuel 6:1-4, 12b-19; Psalm 24; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29
We have two very different dances in the readings today; one, a dance of life, the other a macabre dance of death.
The dance of life is a great parade with lots of music, song and dance, an exuberant celebration of God’s presence. David and the people of Israel dance before the Lord. The Ark of the Covenant, a symbol of their common life together is returned to the city amidst great rejoicing. This is not David, the dignified King. This is a down to earth David, truly celebrating with the people. He gives in with his whole being, heart, body and soul.
There is, of course an undercurrent of unrest. David is not without political motivation in all of this. It is a victory, after all; one that has not been without violence. Not everyone is pleased. An irreconcilable rift comes between David and his wife Michal. She, for whatever reason, does not join in the celebration.
The dance of death is a story made in Hollywood. In fact, it has been made into a movie. There is also an opera, Salome, depicting the story. Richard Strauss achieved instant success with it. If you have ever seen the opera you know that he admirably captures not only its fairy tale qualities but also its horror. It has an amazing, if terrifying appeal.
The setting is a magnificent banquet hall in Herod’s palace. From a terrace at one side of the hall you can see the dungeon in which John is confined. Salome goes out onto the moonlit terrace to take a look at the prisoner. John has denounced Salome’s mother, Herodias saying that she is an evil woman. Salome is at the same time smitten by John and angered by his words. He seals his fate when she tries to lure him, and he rebukes her instead of succumbing to her charms. Later, during the sumptuous feast, Herod asks the beautiful Salome to dance for him. He tempts her by offering to give her anything she asks. She performs the seductive Dance of the Seven Veils. After its wild climax she demands the head of John the Baptist. Herod, knowing that it is wrong, offers her anything else, peacocks, gems. But he finally gives in and has John executed, then in a fit of remorse kills Salome as well.
The facts, though distorted, do not change the effect of the story. The adultery, the evil, the lack of conscience, the weakness, the spirit of intrigue; all are in opposition to God. John is caught up in the vicious feuding of an evil family. It foreshadows for us the way Jesus gets caught up in the sinful power struggle that leads to his death.
Mark’s story of John’s death is incredibly sophisticated. The characters are truly complex. It tells far more about Herod, Herodias and her daughter than it does about John. The girl is young and impressionable, not yet capable of thinking for herself. Herodias has it in for John to a violent degree. Herod is a total contradiction. He likes to listen to what John has to say, but is condemned because of his adulterous relationship. He protects John, but then has him killed. He is boastful, but he is afraid. He is truly sorrowful for what he has done. Perhaps underneath it all he is a person honestly seeking the truth.
The real question for me all week has been is there a message in the gospel that is relevant for Christians living in the world today? And the answer is, most definitely! I know that it is said that religion and politics should not mix. However, that is impossible, at least in this instance. The reading is about justice. It invites us, above all, to have the courage to be truth tellers. There are consequences, even today, to bearing the prophetic voice. As Anglicans we love to play it safe in order not to offend. There is a sobering reality in the story that calls us to stop playing it safe and take a risk for our faith.
How many times has this story been lived out in our own era? It is a truly contemporary story. It could have been written about Oscar Romero, the voice of the voiceless in El Salvador. An all-powerful government martyred him as the church looked on helplessly.
It could have been written about Esquivel, a human rights worker in Argentina, the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1980. In spite of torture, he continued to witness to his faith and to help the families of those who disappeared, fight back against an oppressive regime.
It is the story of continuing terrorist acts throughout the world. Senseless killing and loss of life carried out over and over again in the name of God!
It is the story of Colombia in South America, designated the most savage country in the world per capita. A never-ending cycle of violence continues in a country described as being at war with itself. A forty-year conflict between government and rebels drags on. And, of course, it is the poor who pay the highest price in a country of thirty five million people where there are an astounding million refugees.
It is the story of many African nations – Sudan, Nigeria, Algeria, of the middle east, of Haiti, of all the troubled spots in our world.
It is a story that happens here in our own country over and over again. I can think of many examples; people hurt or killed in acts of family violence; the case of child soldier, Omar Khadr; acts of homophobia; police brutality during the G20.
The story of Herod and the death of John the Baptist is shocking. But by far the most shocking thing about it is that someone who could have acted differently didn’t. That is also what is most shocking about the stories of violence that take place in our daily lives. For most of the time someone who could have acted differently didn’t, resulting in lives scarred irreparably or lost.
Any act of violence is shocking, all the more shocking when we see that violence is so commonplace. It has become an expression of frustration, which by its silence is condoned by society. We need to find a cure. There are many models put forth for violent behaviour. Movies and television are full of them. Can we replace such models of violence, such heroes, with models of peace, with our own heroes and role models? Can people like St. Francis, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King and Jean Vanier be role models to us? Can we ask God for peace in our hearts, in our minds, in our souls?
The gospel is a call to each of us to seek for justice in the face of entrenched political power. We are called to fight against the violence that abounds in our world. We do not need to be part of it. We can overcome it. We can let God’s peace flourish within us. This can be a different world. Is not that the message of the cross? Jesus came to bring peace. Let us be instruments of peace.
Perhaps the answer lies after all in David’s dance of life. Is it time to put aside the balance sheet, the BCP and the BAS and simply kick up our heels and dance an alleluia to the giver of all good and perfect gifts? Amen
Readings: 2 Samuel 6:1-4, 12b-19; Psalm 24; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29
We have two very different dances in the readings today; one, a dance of life, the other a macabre dance of death.
The dance of life is a great parade with lots of music, song and dance, an exuberant celebration of God’s presence. David and the people of Israel dance before the Lord. The Ark of the Covenant, a symbol of their common life together is returned to the city amidst great rejoicing. This is not David, the dignified King. This is a down to earth David, truly celebrating with the people. He gives in with his whole being, heart, body and soul.
There is, of course an undercurrent of unrest. David is not without political motivation in all of this. It is a victory, after all; one that has not been without violence. Not everyone is pleased. An irreconcilable rift comes between David and his wife Michal. She, for whatever reason, does not join in the celebration.
The dance of death is a story made in Hollywood. In fact, it has been made into a movie. There is also an opera, Salome, depicting the story. Richard Strauss achieved instant success with it. If you have ever seen the opera you know that he admirably captures not only its fairy tale qualities but also its horror. It has an amazing, if terrifying appeal.
The setting is a magnificent banquet hall in Herod’s palace. From a terrace at one side of the hall you can see the dungeon in which John is confined. Salome goes out onto the moonlit terrace to take a look at the prisoner. John has denounced Salome’s mother, Herodias saying that she is an evil woman. Salome is at the same time smitten by John and angered by his words. He seals his fate when she tries to lure him, and he rebukes her instead of succumbing to her charms. Later, during the sumptuous feast, Herod asks the beautiful Salome to dance for him. He tempts her by offering to give her anything she asks. She performs the seductive Dance of the Seven Veils. After its wild climax she demands the head of John the Baptist. Herod, knowing that it is wrong, offers her anything else, peacocks, gems. But he finally gives in and has John executed, then in a fit of remorse kills Salome as well.
The facts, though distorted, do not change the effect of the story. The adultery, the evil, the lack of conscience, the weakness, the spirit of intrigue; all are in opposition to God. John is caught up in the vicious feuding of an evil family. It foreshadows for us the way Jesus gets caught up in the sinful power struggle that leads to his death.
Mark’s story of John’s death is incredibly sophisticated. The characters are truly complex. It tells far more about Herod, Herodias and her daughter than it does about John. The girl is young and impressionable, not yet capable of thinking for herself. Herodias has it in for John to a violent degree. Herod is a total contradiction. He likes to listen to what John has to say, but is condemned because of his adulterous relationship. He protects John, but then has him killed. He is boastful, but he is afraid. He is truly sorrowful for what he has done. Perhaps underneath it all he is a person honestly seeking the truth.
The real question for me all week has been is there a message in the gospel that is relevant for Christians living in the world today? And the answer is, most definitely! I know that it is said that religion and politics should not mix. However, that is impossible, at least in this instance. The reading is about justice. It invites us, above all, to have the courage to be truth tellers. There are consequences, even today, to bearing the prophetic voice. As Anglicans we love to play it safe in order not to offend. There is a sobering reality in the story that calls us to stop playing it safe and take a risk for our faith.
How many times has this story been lived out in our own era? It is a truly contemporary story. It could have been written about Oscar Romero, the voice of the voiceless in El Salvador. An all-powerful government martyred him as the church looked on helplessly.
It could have been written about Esquivel, a human rights worker in Argentina, the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1980. In spite of torture, he continued to witness to his faith and to help the families of those who disappeared, fight back against an oppressive regime.
It is the story of continuing terrorist acts throughout the world. Senseless killing and loss of life carried out over and over again in the name of God!
It is the story of Colombia in South America, designated the most savage country in the world per capita. A never-ending cycle of violence continues in a country described as being at war with itself. A forty-year conflict between government and rebels drags on. And, of course, it is the poor who pay the highest price in a country of thirty five million people where there are an astounding million refugees.
It is the story of many African nations – Sudan, Nigeria, Algeria, of the middle east, of Haiti, of all the troubled spots in our world.
It is a story that happens here in our own country over and over again. I can think of many examples; people hurt or killed in acts of family violence; the case of child soldier, Omar Khadr; acts of homophobia; police brutality during the G20.
The story of Herod and the death of John the Baptist is shocking. But by far the most shocking thing about it is that someone who could have acted differently didn’t. That is also what is most shocking about the stories of violence that take place in our daily lives. For most of the time someone who could have acted differently didn’t, resulting in lives scarred irreparably or lost.
Any act of violence is shocking, all the more shocking when we see that violence is so commonplace. It has become an expression of frustration, which by its silence is condoned by society. We need to find a cure. There are many models put forth for violent behaviour. Movies and television are full of them. Can we replace such models of violence, such heroes, with models of peace, with our own heroes and role models? Can people like St. Francis, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King and Jean Vanier be role models to us? Can we ask God for peace in our hearts, in our minds, in our souls?
The gospel is a call to each of us to seek for justice in the face of entrenched political power. We are called to fight against the violence that abounds in our world. We do not need to be part of it. We can overcome it. We can let God’s peace flourish within us. This can be a different world. Is not that the message of the cross? Jesus came to bring peace. Let us be instruments of peace.
Perhaps the answer lies after all in David’s dance of life. Is it time to put aside the balance sheet, the BCP and the BAS and simply kick up our heels and dance an alleluia to the giver of all good and perfect gifts? Amen
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Year B (Proper 14)
My Grace is Sufficient
Readings: 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Psalm 48; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13
There were some people whom Jesus simply could not reach. He was preaching in his hometown synagogue. His message and ministry there were heckled and rejected. People were not able or willing to understand how he could speak with such authority and wisdom. “Where does it all come from?” they ask. After all, isn’t he just a carpenter, the son of Mary, Jo’s boy? Don’t some of his brothers still live in the town? While they acknowledge his wisdom and power they cannot really accept it. After all, they knew him when he was growing up.
Jesus doesn’t really give it a second thought. He doesn’t let it consume him. He simply comments: “Prophets are not without honour, except in their hometown, and among their kin, and in their own house.” Jesus is simply saying that this is the way things are.
Families and people who have known us our whole lives have a habit of cutting us down to size, sometimes gently, often harshly. You can grow up and mature and have a respectable position in the community and still be remembered as the brat who was always getting into a fight. You can be a dependable parent yourself and still be reminded about your teen years when you tried your parents’ patience by coming in late. People can even take offense at your achievements. Human nature being what it is, rather than admit blindness to someone’s growth and change we can become angry at their achievements. How dare he or she prove our assumptions so wrong?
Jesus knew that his disciples would also face rejection. He prepared them for it. He gave them some directions, some rules. They had to take care of their own travel. That is what the staff and sandals were for. But for the rest of their needs they were to depend on the hospitality and resources of the community.
What was it that Jesus wanted the disciples to learn as he sent them out? He has nurtured them. Now he gives them responsibility and the opportunity to decide and respond and to act on their own. He sends them out in pairs. We need mutual support and encouragement. How important it is to have feedback on how your ministry is going! But most of all he is teaching them that they are to rely on God. They are to have no reliance upon their own means. Messengers who wish to provide for every emergency simply do not have enough faith. How can you believe the word of a person who relies on their resources rather than on the message they proclaim? They are to make use of what is provided, but things are in no way to become a hindrance to them.
Most of us do not have the ability or opportunity to come to such an understanding as the disciples did through an experience provided for their learning. I have to say, I did have such an opportunity when I was studying theology. I did a course in Urban Ministry. One of the requirements was to spend two days living on the streets of Toronto. I kept telling myself that I didn’t really need to do it, but it was made clear that if we did not participate we would not pass the course. And so one cold November weekend I set out with only the clothes on my back. Now I had prepared myself. I talked to the street people with whom I was working. “You’ll never survive a weekend on the streets,” they told me. But they helped me to prepare, giving me good advice. “When you ask for money,” they told me, “look for a couple. Look down. Speak to the woman. Have a good story ready. She’ll give you a lecture about finding a job, but then she’ll turn to her husband and tell him to give you something.” I must say, it worked every time.
I knew that in the cold of November I could not sleep outside on a grate. And so I planned on staying in a hostel. I had been working that year in a Food Bank. I remember seeing people pacing in front of the building. I would think to myself, “Why don’t they just come in? We always help them. We always give them something.” Then I found myself pacing in front of a hostel. I must have wandered back and forth for fifteen minutes before I went in. I realized that the most difficult thing for me to do was to say “I need help”. But when I did, the help came. They found me a place to stay.
Over that weekend I questioned whether it was the right thing to do, the ethical thing. But I know that without that life changing experience I could never have learned the things I learned about myself, about ministry, about human nature, and most especially about my need to rely on God. I needed to experience that God’s grace is sufficient for my needs.
Unfortunately in our human fallibility, it takes the crunches, the difficult times of life to bring us closer to God. It is times of affliction, trouble and adversity that cause us to seek refuge and dependence on a higher power.
For one it might be a diagnosis of cancer. How does one deal with the initial shock of the illness? How does one deal with the resulting treatments that leave one physically and emotionally spent? How does one deal with friends who find such illness threatening? How does one face one’s own sense of mortality?
For another it might be the death of a loved one after a long illness, the prospect of a life alone. How does one fill lonely days which have been spent in the care and nurture of one who has been ill? How does one deal with feelings of inadequacy and guilt? How does one deal with anger at being abandoned?
For another it may be the loss of a job after a life-time of dedicated service. How does one begin again? How does one face the financial crunch of being out of work or the feelings of inadequacy as one gets turned down for job after job? How does one even get up in the morning knowing that there is no job to go to? It is the crunch times of life that bring us to the point where we admit that we need God.
It was a crunch time for the apostle Paul that brought him to know that he could depend on God for his needs. He shares at a very deep level about a spiritual experience in his life. It is far from clear just what he experienced, but such things are often beyond words. Then he admits that it was the thorn in his flesh and not the mystical experience that caused him to put his reliance on God. He kept asking God to remove the “thorn”. Finally he accepted God’s response. “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”
By ourselves we are inadequate to deal with our brokenness. The things that happen to us, the tragedies and difficult times, cause us to question our faith. Can that same brokenness which leads us to seek God help us in some tangible way to cling to God? Can the memory of our brokenness help us to hold on to that sense of dependency when things are going well? Can the reminders of our brokenness prevent us from going backwards in our faith journey?
Henri Nouwen, a Roman Catholic priest and the author of the book “The Wounded Healer”, explains that it is our brokenness that allows us to minister to others. It provides us with an understanding of the brokenness of others. In our brokenness we reach out in compassion to others.
I can well imagine that it was Jesus’ compassion for those in need, which led him to give authority to the twelve whom he had chosen. He certainly intended that in this first period of preaching, they would learn that his power extended beyond his presence and could even be delegated to them. They would learn to depend on God for their needs. They would learn that God could supply their temporal needs. They would learn that despite opposition, God would not fail them. They would learn that even in their weakness they could depend on God.
“My grace is sufficient for you,” God is saying to each one of us. Can we open ourselves to God working through our weaknesses? Can we see God’s grace at work in our lives? Can we learn that reliance on God will help us, not only in our daily lives, but will allow us, in compassion to reach out to others? Amen.
Readings: 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Psalm 48; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13
There were some people whom Jesus simply could not reach. He was preaching in his hometown synagogue. His message and ministry there were heckled and rejected. People were not able or willing to understand how he could speak with such authority and wisdom. “Where does it all come from?” they ask. After all, isn’t he just a carpenter, the son of Mary, Jo’s boy? Don’t some of his brothers still live in the town? While they acknowledge his wisdom and power they cannot really accept it. After all, they knew him when he was growing up.
Jesus doesn’t really give it a second thought. He doesn’t let it consume him. He simply comments: “Prophets are not without honour, except in their hometown, and among their kin, and in their own house.” Jesus is simply saying that this is the way things are.
Families and people who have known us our whole lives have a habit of cutting us down to size, sometimes gently, often harshly. You can grow up and mature and have a respectable position in the community and still be remembered as the brat who was always getting into a fight. You can be a dependable parent yourself and still be reminded about your teen years when you tried your parents’ patience by coming in late. People can even take offense at your achievements. Human nature being what it is, rather than admit blindness to someone’s growth and change we can become angry at their achievements. How dare he or she prove our assumptions so wrong?
Jesus knew that his disciples would also face rejection. He prepared them for it. He gave them some directions, some rules. They had to take care of their own travel. That is what the staff and sandals were for. But for the rest of their needs they were to depend on the hospitality and resources of the community.
What was it that Jesus wanted the disciples to learn as he sent them out? He has nurtured them. Now he gives them responsibility and the opportunity to decide and respond and to act on their own. He sends them out in pairs. We need mutual support and encouragement. How important it is to have feedback on how your ministry is going! But most of all he is teaching them that they are to rely on God. They are to have no reliance upon their own means. Messengers who wish to provide for every emergency simply do not have enough faith. How can you believe the word of a person who relies on their resources rather than on the message they proclaim? They are to make use of what is provided, but things are in no way to become a hindrance to them.
Most of us do not have the ability or opportunity to come to such an understanding as the disciples did through an experience provided for their learning. I have to say, I did have such an opportunity when I was studying theology. I did a course in Urban Ministry. One of the requirements was to spend two days living on the streets of Toronto. I kept telling myself that I didn’t really need to do it, but it was made clear that if we did not participate we would not pass the course. And so one cold November weekend I set out with only the clothes on my back. Now I had prepared myself. I talked to the street people with whom I was working. “You’ll never survive a weekend on the streets,” they told me. But they helped me to prepare, giving me good advice. “When you ask for money,” they told me, “look for a couple. Look down. Speak to the woman. Have a good story ready. She’ll give you a lecture about finding a job, but then she’ll turn to her husband and tell him to give you something.” I must say, it worked every time.
I knew that in the cold of November I could not sleep outside on a grate. And so I planned on staying in a hostel. I had been working that year in a Food Bank. I remember seeing people pacing in front of the building. I would think to myself, “Why don’t they just come in? We always help them. We always give them something.” Then I found myself pacing in front of a hostel. I must have wandered back and forth for fifteen minutes before I went in. I realized that the most difficult thing for me to do was to say “I need help”. But when I did, the help came. They found me a place to stay.
Over that weekend I questioned whether it was the right thing to do, the ethical thing. But I know that without that life changing experience I could never have learned the things I learned about myself, about ministry, about human nature, and most especially about my need to rely on God. I needed to experience that God’s grace is sufficient for my needs.
Unfortunately in our human fallibility, it takes the crunches, the difficult times of life to bring us closer to God. It is times of affliction, trouble and adversity that cause us to seek refuge and dependence on a higher power.
For one it might be a diagnosis of cancer. How does one deal with the initial shock of the illness? How does one deal with the resulting treatments that leave one physically and emotionally spent? How does one deal with friends who find such illness threatening? How does one face one’s own sense of mortality?
For another it might be the death of a loved one after a long illness, the prospect of a life alone. How does one fill lonely days which have been spent in the care and nurture of one who has been ill? How does one deal with feelings of inadequacy and guilt? How does one deal with anger at being abandoned?
For another it may be the loss of a job after a life-time of dedicated service. How does one begin again? How does one face the financial crunch of being out of work or the feelings of inadequacy as one gets turned down for job after job? How does one even get up in the morning knowing that there is no job to go to? It is the crunch times of life that bring us to the point where we admit that we need God.
It was a crunch time for the apostle Paul that brought him to know that he could depend on God for his needs. He shares at a very deep level about a spiritual experience in his life. It is far from clear just what he experienced, but such things are often beyond words. Then he admits that it was the thorn in his flesh and not the mystical experience that caused him to put his reliance on God. He kept asking God to remove the “thorn”. Finally he accepted God’s response. “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”
By ourselves we are inadequate to deal with our brokenness. The things that happen to us, the tragedies and difficult times, cause us to question our faith. Can that same brokenness which leads us to seek God help us in some tangible way to cling to God? Can the memory of our brokenness help us to hold on to that sense of dependency when things are going well? Can the reminders of our brokenness prevent us from going backwards in our faith journey?
Henri Nouwen, a Roman Catholic priest and the author of the book “The Wounded Healer”, explains that it is our brokenness that allows us to minister to others. It provides us with an understanding of the brokenness of others. In our brokenness we reach out in compassion to others.
I can well imagine that it was Jesus’ compassion for those in need, which led him to give authority to the twelve whom he had chosen. He certainly intended that in this first period of preaching, they would learn that his power extended beyond his presence and could even be delegated to them. They would learn to depend on God for their needs. They would learn that God could supply their temporal needs. They would learn that despite opposition, God would not fail them. They would learn that even in their weakness they could depend on God.
“My grace is sufficient for you,” God is saying to each one of us. Can we open ourselves to God working through our weaknesses? Can we see God’s grace at work in our lives? Can we learn that reliance on God will help us, not only in our daily lives, but will allow us, in compassion to reach out to others? Amen.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Pentecost
Can These Bones Live?
Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 104:25-35; Romans 8:22-27; Acts 2:1-121; John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15
The prophet Ezekiel was in the midst of a nightmare. In the Spirit, God lead him to a valley, a valley filled with the bones of dead soldiers slain in battle against the Chaldeans. It was a horrifying scene of destruction.
“Can these bones live?” God asked him. On that battlefield lay all the hopes and dreams of an entire nation. How could Ezekiel see anything there but disaster and defeat? The situation was hopeless. “Prophesy to them!” God continues.
“What sense is there in that?” Ezekiel may well have thought. Yet even though it doesn’t make sense, God is calling him to take a risk.
“Trust me! I will breathe life into them,” God tells him. And Ezekiel trusts God. He prophesies to the bones. Those dry lifeless bones take on sinew, and flesh. Those dry, lifeless bones are animated. They come to life.
What a vision of hope! And the miraculous thing about it is that the nation of Israel did indeed rise up from that terrible defeat. Life was breathed back into that community. It lived and prospered. It was a nightmare, but through that dream the prophet lived a real experience. It gave him a sense of God’s presence and the awareness that something significant was being communicated to him.
That vision of life being breathed back into dry bones is again fulfilled with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. For with that outpouring came, not only the hope of a nation, but also the hope of salvation for all nations, the Christian hope that exceeds all we can ask or imagine. That breath of life poured out at Pentecost is the source of hope in human experience. It renews us. It assures us of God’s presence with us.
Pentecost started as a nightmare as well. The disciples were all gathered together in the upper room. They gathered out of their need to be together. They gathered more in mourning than in celebration. They were still suffering from the loss of their beloved leader. And then Pentecost happened! They had an amazing spiritual awakening. First there was a movement, then a sound, then a visible sign of the presence of the Holy Spirit amongst them. The experience so filled them with the presence of God that they began to speak in other languages. They did not have to grope for words to express themselves. The words simply flowed out of them. It was not babble; it was clear and effective communication. The Spirit proclaimed a marvellous, inclusive vision without barriers of language, race, nationality, sex, age or class. People not only heard, but they understood what God was speaking to the Church. What’s more they acted on it.
We so easily dismiss the significance of Pentecost. It is the birthday of the Church. It celebrates, not the coming of the Holy Spirit. That has always been God’s gift to the church. Rather it celebrates a fresh outpouring of the Spirit set loose in the world. For the early Christians it became a time of festivity and joy, reminding them that the promise of the Resurrected Christ had been fulfilled in them.
It would truly be a mistake to assume that Ezekiel’s dream was a one-time event. People still have such experiences in their day to day lives. The problem is that we tend to dismiss such dreams as being of little importance. Even if we awaken in terror, we can easily put it down to a case of indigestion or something that we saw on television. We need to pay attention to such experiences in our lives, those ‘aha’ moments in which we know God to be real and present to us, in which we sense God communicating to us on a deep level.
Pentecost was not a one-time event either. The Holy Spirit is poured out on the Church every day. That is the source of our Christian energy and purpose. Whatever speaks to us of the genuine things of Jesus Christ is the Holy Spirit at work in us. How does it come to you? Perhaps it comes as a realization that God is speaking to you through another person. Perhaps it is as you witness to the power of the Holy Spirit at work in your life. It may be a moment of realization at the power of God working a miracle of healing in your life as you let go of the hurts of the past and offer forgiveness to someone. Maybe it happens for you when you accept God’s power to forgive and let it work in your life. It may be in the sharing of the peace, or a time when you were able to go beyond your limitations in speaking to others about your faith. Perhaps it is a time when you felt overwhelmed by life, and then found the power to do something that you thought was totally beyond your capabilities. It may be finding that life takes you in new directions when you thought all the doors had been slammed in your face. Can we look back on those moments of grace scattered throughout our lives and see the Spirit of God working in and through us?
The Church needs that kind of renewable energy. Church institutions can be brought back to life again as their members who once confessed only with their mouths begin confessing with their hearts. It can change as we return to the covenant made between us and God at our baptism. God breathes on us restoring us to life and truth, to joy and purposefulness, as the Spirit takes control of our very being. It is about reconciliation, assurance, peace, joy, purpose. It is a resurrection experience that brings with it a sense of new birth.
Churches need that rekindling, that renewing of life, that rebooting of energy. What would it mean for this parish as you move forward? We need to pray for the Spirit of God to be upon the Church and its people so that we can stand on our feet and take responsibility as we must. This is a parish that needs to do that. You need to be aware of the community around you, of its needs, of its longing for God, of the spiritual resources you have to offer. This is a congregation that needs to open its doors and welcome the community into its midst, not just for social events, but because you love God and you want to share your experience of the resurrection at work in your lives.
Pentecost is about life coming together for the common good. Pentecost happens when people of faith share their faith with one another. It happens when we find ourselves moved to say to one another, “I believe”. It happens when we grow up and begin to say “yes” to God instead of saying “no”. Then love blossoms. We become on fire. May God continue to breathe the fire of the Holy Spirit on us, and may we continue to embrace the Spirit within us. Amen.
Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 104:25-35; Romans 8:22-27; Acts 2:1-121; John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15
The prophet Ezekiel was in the midst of a nightmare. In the Spirit, God lead him to a valley, a valley filled with the bones of dead soldiers slain in battle against the Chaldeans. It was a horrifying scene of destruction.
“Can these bones live?” God asked him. On that battlefield lay all the hopes and dreams of an entire nation. How could Ezekiel see anything there but disaster and defeat? The situation was hopeless. “Prophesy to them!” God continues.
“What sense is there in that?” Ezekiel may well have thought. Yet even though it doesn’t make sense, God is calling him to take a risk.
“Trust me! I will breathe life into them,” God tells him. And Ezekiel trusts God. He prophesies to the bones. Those dry lifeless bones take on sinew, and flesh. Those dry, lifeless bones are animated. They come to life.
What a vision of hope! And the miraculous thing about it is that the nation of Israel did indeed rise up from that terrible defeat. Life was breathed back into that community. It lived and prospered. It was a nightmare, but through that dream the prophet lived a real experience. It gave him a sense of God’s presence and the awareness that something significant was being communicated to him.
That vision of life being breathed back into dry bones is again fulfilled with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. For with that outpouring came, not only the hope of a nation, but also the hope of salvation for all nations, the Christian hope that exceeds all we can ask or imagine. That breath of life poured out at Pentecost is the source of hope in human experience. It renews us. It assures us of God’s presence with us.
Pentecost started as a nightmare as well. The disciples were all gathered together in the upper room. They gathered out of their need to be together. They gathered more in mourning than in celebration. They were still suffering from the loss of their beloved leader. And then Pentecost happened! They had an amazing spiritual awakening. First there was a movement, then a sound, then a visible sign of the presence of the Holy Spirit amongst them. The experience so filled them with the presence of God that they began to speak in other languages. They did not have to grope for words to express themselves. The words simply flowed out of them. It was not babble; it was clear and effective communication. The Spirit proclaimed a marvellous, inclusive vision without barriers of language, race, nationality, sex, age or class. People not only heard, but they understood what God was speaking to the Church. What’s more they acted on it.
We so easily dismiss the significance of Pentecost. It is the birthday of the Church. It celebrates, not the coming of the Holy Spirit. That has always been God’s gift to the church. Rather it celebrates a fresh outpouring of the Spirit set loose in the world. For the early Christians it became a time of festivity and joy, reminding them that the promise of the Resurrected Christ had been fulfilled in them.
It would truly be a mistake to assume that Ezekiel’s dream was a one-time event. People still have such experiences in their day to day lives. The problem is that we tend to dismiss such dreams as being of little importance. Even if we awaken in terror, we can easily put it down to a case of indigestion or something that we saw on television. We need to pay attention to such experiences in our lives, those ‘aha’ moments in which we know God to be real and present to us, in which we sense God communicating to us on a deep level.
Pentecost was not a one-time event either. The Holy Spirit is poured out on the Church every day. That is the source of our Christian energy and purpose. Whatever speaks to us of the genuine things of Jesus Christ is the Holy Spirit at work in us. How does it come to you? Perhaps it comes as a realization that God is speaking to you through another person. Perhaps it is as you witness to the power of the Holy Spirit at work in your life. It may be a moment of realization at the power of God working a miracle of healing in your life as you let go of the hurts of the past and offer forgiveness to someone. Maybe it happens for you when you accept God’s power to forgive and let it work in your life. It may be in the sharing of the peace, or a time when you were able to go beyond your limitations in speaking to others about your faith. Perhaps it is a time when you felt overwhelmed by life, and then found the power to do something that you thought was totally beyond your capabilities. It may be finding that life takes you in new directions when you thought all the doors had been slammed in your face. Can we look back on those moments of grace scattered throughout our lives and see the Spirit of God working in and through us?
The Church needs that kind of renewable energy. Church institutions can be brought back to life again as their members who once confessed only with their mouths begin confessing with their hearts. It can change as we return to the covenant made between us and God at our baptism. God breathes on us restoring us to life and truth, to joy and purposefulness, as the Spirit takes control of our very being. It is about reconciliation, assurance, peace, joy, purpose. It is a resurrection experience that brings with it a sense of new birth.
Churches need that rekindling, that renewing of life, that rebooting of energy. What would it mean for this parish as you move forward? We need to pray for the Spirit of God to be upon the Church and its people so that we can stand on our feet and take responsibility as we must. This is a parish that needs to do that. You need to be aware of the community around you, of its needs, of its longing for God, of the spiritual resources you have to offer. This is a congregation that needs to open its doors and welcome the community into its midst, not just for social events, but because you love God and you want to share your experience of the resurrection at work in your lives.
Pentecost is about life coming together for the common good. Pentecost happens when people of faith share their faith with one another. It happens when we find ourselves moved to say to one another, “I believe”. It happens when we grow up and begin to say “yes” to God instead of saying “no”. Then love blossoms. We become on fire. May God continue to breathe the fire of the Holy Spirit on us, and may we continue to embrace the Spirit within us. Amen.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Seventh Sunday of Easter, Year B
Between Loss and Promise
Readings: Acts 1:15-17; Psalm 1; 1 John 5:9-13; John 17:6-19
I find as I prepare for preaching on this last Sunday of Easter that there is a piece missing. That is because most of us missed out on a feast day that fills in the gaps. Last Thursday was the Ascension of Our Lord. It is forty days after Easter, so it always lands on a Thursday. It is an important preparation for Pentecost. Fortunately the themes connect to this Sunday between Ascension Day and Pentecost.
When I was growing up, I went to a Private Girls' School run by a religious order. We had some unusual holidays. Ascension Day was one of the more memorable ones. We began the day by trekking down to the local church affectionately known as “Smokey Tom’s” for Eucharist, and then we piled on buses, and the whole school went to Toronto Island for a picnic. It was a day of celebration and fun. It marked the beginning of the end of the school year. We ate and played and raced and generally had a good time.
I have to say that it influenced my thoughts greatly. Indeed it still comes as a surprise to me to discover that the Ascension and the Sunday that follows is not about a picnic. Indeed, it is anything but a picnic.
During this Easter season, we have been discovering that Jesus in his full humanity has been given new life in the resurrection. The Ascension, as he withdraws from his disciples, as he is carried from them into heaven, marks the end of Jesus' time on earth. Like the other post Easter experiences, it is clearly an encounter with the risen Lord. Jesus has appeared to the disciples bringing peace into their midst. Then he commissions them, as witnesses of the resurrection, to continue his proclamation. It becomes their responsibility to carry on the work that Jesus began. "Jesus lives! Jesus reigns! Jesus has left his disciples holding the bag!"
I can well imagine what it must have been like for them to discover that the risen Lord was not going to stay with them. Their sense of loss must have been profound. They must have felt that they were being left on their own. But it truly is not the end of the story; it is only the beginning. Jesus and the disciples are entering into a new relationship. What Jesus began in his earthly ministry he now expects the disciples to continue. But fortunately for all of us, we do not have to do it alone.
“I am risen. I am still with you.” That is the message to the disciples. It is clearly the message to each one of us on this Sunday between loss and promise.
All of the readings are about that sense of loss and promise. In the account from the Acts of the Apostles Peter faces a difficult task. Judas, the betrayer, is to be replaced. The community has been fractured by the betrayal. But the time has come for them to make a choice that will help them to move on. They pray, they cast lots, and God shows them that Matthias is the one who is to continue the God’s work. It is a wonderful reminder that Jesus is the Lord of our failures as well as our successes.
Are there similar situations in the life of a congregation? There are always things that fracture a community. They are not as shattering as Judas’ betrayal, but they are difficult to deal with just the same. Life is full of losses. We learn early in life to mourn our losses – loss of innocence, loss of friendship, loss of status, and the loss that comes with death. This is a community in transition. Transition periods are difficult. They are times of loss, of change, and we do resist change. As a priest retires and Interim clergy come and go, and as you await the appointment of permanent leadership it can be a difficult time in congregational life. The sense of loss can be profound.
And yet John’s letter attests to the faithfulness of God at such times in our lives. He reminds the community that their daily experience is a testimony to their faith. That is an important learning for us. During times of loss how do we sense God’s presence with us? When have we been empowered to overcome some terrible situation in our lives, or to respond to something which seemed beyond our capabilities? When has the ordinary been transformed for you or for me or for this congregation? The signs of resurrection in our lives bear rich testimony. They make our lives full and rich with meaning. Our lives are different because Jesus lives in us. And if our lives are not different, then we need to ask ourselves if we are really know Jesus.
And finally there is the heartfelt prayer of Jesus as he prepares to take leave of the disciples. It is a wonderful prayer, particularly when you consider that it is the prayer of a person who knows that death is imminent. He is thinking of those he is about to leave behind. He is praying for them, and he is praying for the world and the state it is in. Is he thinking about structures of racism, competition, exploitation, violence, discrimination, greed, neglect? Is he praying for the poor, the wretched, the leper, the orphan, the spiritually impoverished? He is certainly praying for his followers, for those who dream his dream, for those who put everything on the line to enhance the coming of the kingdom.
Are we in his prayer? Do we pray his prayer, for this could well be our prayer in a fragmented and argumentative age? We need to be reminded that what we do as a worshipping community we do in Jesus’ name. Sometimes truly it is easier to have faith in God without seeking commitment to the church. Churches can be fractured places. In this church this morning there are many different ideas about how to do things and about who should be doing the doing. There are no doubt opposite hopes and plans. But I hope and pray that there is unity in agreeing that it will be accomplished in carrying out our Lord’s will.
Our work as a congregation during the time of transition is to come together in prayer. It is to ask for grace to deal with one day at a time. We pray to be able to offer our struggle and pain and anxiety to a loving God. The prayer of Jesus gives such a sense of mutual belonging and caring for each other. It is something that we need to experience as a congregation. How can we strengthen that understanding of ourselves as church? What are the values of the faith community that we show to the world? How do we discover in this time between loss and promise that we are not alone after all?
“I am risen! I am ascended! I am glorified! I am still with you!” That is the message to the disciples. It continues to be the message to the church today. We still encounter the risen Lord. Yet it is a mystery which, not surprisingly eludes our grasp. Our encounter is rather like trying to view a beautiful painting through the slats of a venetian blind. We can see the image, but not clearly enough to understand its beauty and perfection. We get flashes of insight, but to fully appreciate its beauty we must view it under the proper conditions. Our view must be unobstructed. There must be proper lighting.
When we are encountered by the risen Lord, we do, for a moment fully comprehend. But we find it impossible to hold on to the image. Yet if we have eyes to see the mystery of the resurrection we will glimpse it all around us. We will see it in nature; the smell of the rain, the wildness of a thunderstorm, the beauty of a flower unfolding, the sight of a starry sky. We will dream it; the kind of dream you wake up out of without quite remembering what it was about, and yet you feel better for having dreamed it. We will experience it through the liturgy as we break bread together, as we sing hymns of praise, as we pray. We will experience it through the world of books. We will experience it through other people. By God’s grace we will know the resurrected Christ at work in our lives.
Living between loss and promise is no picnic. We may be left holding the bag, but we are far from alone. Jesus promised the Holy Spirit to help the disciples, to guide them, to keep them, to protect them. That promise is there for us as well. May we live by that same life giving Spirit!
Readings: Acts 1:15-17; Psalm 1; 1 John 5:9-13; John 17:6-19
I find as I prepare for preaching on this last Sunday of Easter that there is a piece missing. That is because most of us missed out on a feast day that fills in the gaps. Last Thursday was the Ascension of Our Lord. It is forty days after Easter, so it always lands on a Thursday. It is an important preparation for Pentecost. Fortunately the themes connect to this Sunday between Ascension Day and Pentecost.
When I was growing up, I went to a Private Girls' School run by a religious order. We had some unusual holidays. Ascension Day was one of the more memorable ones. We began the day by trekking down to the local church affectionately known as “Smokey Tom’s” for Eucharist, and then we piled on buses, and the whole school went to Toronto Island for a picnic. It was a day of celebration and fun. It marked the beginning of the end of the school year. We ate and played and raced and generally had a good time.
I have to say that it influenced my thoughts greatly. Indeed it still comes as a surprise to me to discover that the Ascension and the Sunday that follows is not about a picnic. Indeed, it is anything but a picnic.
During this Easter season, we have been discovering that Jesus in his full humanity has been given new life in the resurrection. The Ascension, as he withdraws from his disciples, as he is carried from them into heaven, marks the end of Jesus' time on earth. Like the other post Easter experiences, it is clearly an encounter with the risen Lord. Jesus has appeared to the disciples bringing peace into their midst. Then he commissions them, as witnesses of the resurrection, to continue his proclamation. It becomes their responsibility to carry on the work that Jesus began. "Jesus lives! Jesus reigns! Jesus has left his disciples holding the bag!"
I can well imagine what it must have been like for them to discover that the risen Lord was not going to stay with them. Their sense of loss must have been profound. They must have felt that they were being left on their own. But it truly is not the end of the story; it is only the beginning. Jesus and the disciples are entering into a new relationship. What Jesus began in his earthly ministry he now expects the disciples to continue. But fortunately for all of us, we do not have to do it alone.
“I am risen. I am still with you.” That is the message to the disciples. It is clearly the message to each one of us on this Sunday between loss and promise.
All of the readings are about that sense of loss and promise. In the account from the Acts of the Apostles Peter faces a difficult task. Judas, the betrayer, is to be replaced. The community has been fractured by the betrayal. But the time has come for them to make a choice that will help them to move on. They pray, they cast lots, and God shows them that Matthias is the one who is to continue the God’s work. It is a wonderful reminder that Jesus is the Lord of our failures as well as our successes.
Are there similar situations in the life of a congregation? There are always things that fracture a community. They are not as shattering as Judas’ betrayal, but they are difficult to deal with just the same. Life is full of losses. We learn early in life to mourn our losses – loss of innocence, loss of friendship, loss of status, and the loss that comes with death. This is a community in transition. Transition periods are difficult. They are times of loss, of change, and we do resist change. As a priest retires and Interim clergy come and go, and as you await the appointment of permanent leadership it can be a difficult time in congregational life. The sense of loss can be profound.
And yet John’s letter attests to the faithfulness of God at such times in our lives. He reminds the community that their daily experience is a testimony to their faith. That is an important learning for us. During times of loss how do we sense God’s presence with us? When have we been empowered to overcome some terrible situation in our lives, or to respond to something which seemed beyond our capabilities? When has the ordinary been transformed for you or for me or for this congregation? The signs of resurrection in our lives bear rich testimony. They make our lives full and rich with meaning. Our lives are different because Jesus lives in us. And if our lives are not different, then we need to ask ourselves if we are really know Jesus.
And finally there is the heartfelt prayer of Jesus as he prepares to take leave of the disciples. It is a wonderful prayer, particularly when you consider that it is the prayer of a person who knows that death is imminent. He is thinking of those he is about to leave behind. He is praying for them, and he is praying for the world and the state it is in. Is he thinking about structures of racism, competition, exploitation, violence, discrimination, greed, neglect? Is he praying for the poor, the wretched, the leper, the orphan, the spiritually impoverished? He is certainly praying for his followers, for those who dream his dream, for those who put everything on the line to enhance the coming of the kingdom.
Are we in his prayer? Do we pray his prayer, for this could well be our prayer in a fragmented and argumentative age? We need to be reminded that what we do as a worshipping community we do in Jesus’ name. Sometimes truly it is easier to have faith in God without seeking commitment to the church. Churches can be fractured places. In this church this morning there are many different ideas about how to do things and about who should be doing the doing. There are no doubt opposite hopes and plans. But I hope and pray that there is unity in agreeing that it will be accomplished in carrying out our Lord’s will.
Our work as a congregation during the time of transition is to come together in prayer. It is to ask for grace to deal with one day at a time. We pray to be able to offer our struggle and pain and anxiety to a loving God. The prayer of Jesus gives such a sense of mutual belonging and caring for each other. It is something that we need to experience as a congregation. How can we strengthen that understanding of ourselves as church? What are the values of the faith community that we show to the world? How do we discover in this time between loss and promise that we are not alone after all?
“I am risen! I am ascended! I am glorified! I am still with you!” That is the message to the disciples. It continues to be the message to the church today. We still encounter the risen Lord. Yet it is a mystery which, not surprisingly eludes our grasp. Our encounter is rather like trying to view a beautiful painting through the slats of a venetian blind. We can see the image, but not clearly enough to understand its beauty and perfection. We get flashes of insight, but to fully appreciate its beauty we must view it under the proper conditions. Our view must be unobstructed. There must be proper lighting.
When we are encountered by the risen Lord, we do, for a moment fully comprehend. But we find it impossible to hold on to the image. Yet if we have eyes to see the mystery of the resurrection we will glimpse it all around us. We will see it in nature; the smell of the rain, the wildness of a thunderstorm, the beauty of a flower unfolding, the sight of a starry sky. We will dream it; the kind of dream you wake up out of without quite remembering what it was about, and yet you feel better for having dreamed it. We will experience it through the liturgy as we break bread together, as we sing hymns of praise, as we pray. We will experience it through the world of books. We will experience it through other people. By God’s grace we will know the resurrected Christ at work in our lives.
Living between loss and promise is no picnic. We may be left holding the bag, but we are far from alone. Jesus promised the Holy Spirit to help the disciples, to guide them, to keep them, to protect them. That promise is there for us as well. May we live by that same life giving Spirit!
Friday, May 11, 2012
Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year B
Sing a New Song
Readings: Acts 10:44-48; Psalm 98; 1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17
Most of us can cite some experiences of what it feels like to be left out, to be excluded. For instance, people often tell me that they cannot sing. Invariably the story will start something like, "When I was in grade one I was in the blackbird group. I was so out of tune the teacher made me mouth the words. I still can't sing." They talk about how terrible it felt to be excluded from classroom singing or from the choir.
Others of us remember the terror of choosing sides for a game. The two most popular, athletic types were always chosen as team leaders. The kids would gather around. One by one sides would be chosen. And there you would be, the odd person out, the only one not picked to play on a team. Then one of the leaders finally relents, "Oh, you can be on my team!" But because you're small and uncoordinated, you sit out most of the game or the star hovers around you grabbing the ball whenever it comes anywhere near you.
We live in a time and place in which cultures and peoples mix more than at any other time in history. Some time ago, there was an article in the Star reporting on a study of multiculturalism. Thousands of people were interviewed. What the researchers found was that skin colour, not religion or income was the biggest barrier to making immigrants feel as if they belonged in Canada. The darker the skin, the greater the alienation!
"We were surprised that religion didn't have more effect," one of the authors explained. However, on two levels the statistics did not surprise me. First of all religion no longer has the credence of society. It no longer has the importance that it once had. Secondly, society has its own ways of dealing with multiculturalism apart from any government or societal policies that could possibly be put into effect. Sometimes the response of society is to create closed communities that keep one’s way of living intact by excluding those who are different. Or we may create exclusive communities that are beyond the means of people who are not “like us”. We may ghettoize into communities as we did with our aboriginal peoples by segregating them on reserves. Or we may force people to change and become more like us. Many immigrants gave up their language and culture in order to become Canadian.
But the Christian faith gives us a third option, that of inclusion! Open the doors and welcome people in! However, inclusion runs risks. That is obvious from the reading from Acts. When you allow God to work through you, you lose control over who belongs and who does not. The passage follows Peter’s vision about clean and unclean foods that he had been commanded to eat. He did not understand the vision until he was invited to the home of Cornelius, a Gentile. He was speaking to the household when the Holy Spirit came over them. Just as on the day of Pentecost, they began to praise God in ways that the Christian church had assumed were exclusively theirs. The believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the Spirit of God should be given, not just to them, but to the Gentiles as well.
That got them moving. “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people?” Peter asks. It becomes a time of renewal for the whole community as they welcome the newly baptized into their table fellowship.
The risks of inclusion are obvious also from John’s letter. He is writing to a community deeply divided by a theological dispute. Many had left the community over the difference in opinion. Some had questioned the humanity of Jesus, saying that Jesus could not possibly have been born human; neither could he have died as a human. Schism threatened the existence of the community. John asked them not to seek revenge or to be bitter, but to love. “Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God,” he said to them. It is an inclusive statement that we so often glibly turn around. It calls us to love all of God’s children, not simply those we consider to be God’s children.
The risks of inclusivity are real. You might have to accept people whom you deem unworthy of the name of Christian. You might have to worship side by side with people of a different colour, race, economic status or sexual orientation. You might have to accept that we are all made in God’s image. You might have to struggle with the issues that face the Christian Church in the twenty-first century.
It may not seem like much to you as the story is told, but to the early church it was a complete change, a revelation. They were Jews. Their little community was a small sect, an insignificant branch of the Jewish faith. They maintained their ties to the synagogue. Even in the dispersion as the Jews began to spread throughout the Greek world, the expectation was that Christianity would continue to grow within Judaism. They kept the Jewish traditions. They adhered to Jewish law. But to their amazement, perhaps chagrin, the Gentiles were drawn to this new sect.
Judaism has never been an evangelical faith. They do not proselytize. Except perhaps through marriage, one does not often become converted to Judaism. One is born a Jew. It is tied to nationality as much as it is to faith. The early Christians grappled with how to maintain their allegiance to Judaism and live out their Christian faith. Could they remain Jews and still open up their faith to include the Gentiles? Yet that is where the Holy Spirit seemed to be leading them. And they listened.
When Peter and the early Christian community accepted Cornelius and his household as converts, they set a precedent, which changed their way of life completely. They went out on a limb for their faith. They went against culture, tradition, nationality, and religion. They were cut off from their roots. Yet their willingness to change opened up wonderful new possibilities. Christianity became a world religion.
Put that alongside the message of the Gospel. "Love one another as I have loved you," Jesus says. It is a call to inclusivity. It is not a call to love the loveable, the cuddly, the beautiful, the wealthy; rather it is a call to love those whom God has chosen. Yet what boundaries we put on God's love! We claim it exclusively for ourselves. We fail to affirm the validity of the religious experience of others simply because it does not resemble ours. We fail to respond to those who are looking for affirmation in their faith journey.
Jesus at the last supper offered the gift of himself. It was a gift without reservation, without restriction. In the Eucharist he continues to offer us that wonderful, free gift of grace. The reality of that giving is the model and criterion of Christian behaviour. We are called to "lay down our lives", to put others before ourselves, to love in a life-giving way. It is a call to be generous, not just by providing bread but also by sharing the deeper gift of ourselves. In the Eucharist, we share the one bread and the one cup with each other as a sign that in our daily lives we strive to share our bread, our blessings, and ourselves with others. In the carrying out of the mission of the church the Eucharist becomes honest and effective in our lives.
Jesus makes it clear that we do not do the choosing. We are the chosen. If you think about it at all, that is a tremendous affirmation of who we are, even of human nature. Why should we have been chosen to come into intimate relationship with God? Do you have a long list of reasons? If it were others choosing the teams, would we make it? If we were doing the choosing who would we exclude, or leave on the sidelines? With Christ doing the choosing we may find a few people included whose presence we find disturbing. The children God has chosen may break into the quiet flow of worship. The stranger with his hand out for help may assail our sensitivities. The HIV positive person reaching out for compassion may cause us to flinch. We are called to be inclusive of children, the poor, young people, refugees, social activists, the physically challenged, the mentally challenged, women, men, all whom God has chosen. Each of us is called to make our hearts open to those whose presence may disturb our peace and our assumptions.
How do we create Christian communities in which there is understanding and love in a life-giving, self-giving way? To create such communities would surely be risky on so many levels. It begins with responding to Jesus as friend. In doing so we would on some level “lay down our life for our friends”. It is unlikely that it would be the ultimate sacrifice. Yet we are called to ‘put our lives on the line for one another’. We are called to put others before ourselves. We are called to love in a life-giving way. It means being generous with other people, not just by providing bread but also by sharing the deeper gift of oneself.
Laying down our lives for one another may mean sacrificing time, thought, worry, concern, caring, sensitivity. It will result in abhorrence for the ways of the world, for the killing and alienation of the violent society in which we live. In the light of Christ’s Eucharistic sharing such things become even more abhorrent. Christ’s gift revealed in the Eucharist enables us to understand the unique value of human life and then respond.
How do we respond to Jesus? Do we respond as friend and brother? For we are blessed to have such a friend! If we are responsible Christians truly living out the gospel, then we like Peter must be open to the Holy Spirit moving in peoples' lives. It is not for us to ask how it could be that God would choose this person or that one; it is up to us to open ourselves and our community to others in Christian love. May we be a loving and caring community of faith. Amen.
Readings: Acts 10:44-48; Psalm 98; 1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17
Most of us can cite some experiences of what it feels like to be left out, to be excluded. For instance, people often tell me that they cannot sing. Invariably the story will start something like, "When I was in grade one I was in the blackbird group. I was so out of tune the teacher made me mouth the words. I still can't sing." They talk about how terrible it felt to be excluded from classroom singing or from the choir.
Others of us remember the terror of choosing sides for a game. The two most popular, athletic types were always chosen as team leaders. The kids would gather around. One by one sides would be chosen. And there you would be, the odd person out, the only one not picked to play on a team. Then one of the leaders finally relents, "Oh, you can be on my team!" But because you're small and uncoordinated, you sit out most of the game or the star hovers around you grabbing the ball whenever it comes anywhere near you.
We live in a time and place in which cultures and peoples mix more than at any other time in history. Some time ago, there was an article in the Star reporting on a study of multiculturalism. Thousands of people were interviewed. What the researchers found was that skin colour, not religion or income was the biggest barrier to making immigrants feel as if they belonged in Canada. The darker the skin, the greater the alienation!
"We were surprised that religion didn't have more effect," one of the authors explained. However, on two levels the statistics did not surprise me. First of all religion no longer has the credence of society. It no longer has the importance that it once had. Secondly, society has its own ways of dealing with multiculturalism apart from any government or societal policies that could possibly be put into effect. Sometimes the response of society is to create closed communities that keep one’s way of living intact by excluding those who are different. Or we may create exclusive communities that are beyond the means of people who are not “like us”. We may ghettoize into communities as we did with our aboriginal peoples by segregating them on reserves. Or we may force people to change and become more like us. Many immigrants gave up their language and culture in order to become Canadian.
But the Christian faith gives us a third option, that of inclusion! Open the doors and welcome people in! However, inclusion runs risks. That is obvious from the reading from Acts. When you allow God to work through you, you lose control over who belongs and who does not. The passage follows Peter’s vision about clean and unclean foods that he had been commanded to eat. He did not understand the vision until he was invited to the home of Cornelius, a Gentile. He was speaking to the household when the Holy Spirit came over them. Just as on the day of Pentecost, they began to praise God in ways that the Christian church had assumed were exclusively theirs. The believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the Spirit of God should be given, not just to them, but to the Gentiles as well.
That got them moving. “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people?” Peter asks. It becomes a time of renewal for the whole community as they welcome the newly baptized into their table fellowship.
The risks of inclusion are obvious also from John’s letter. He is writing to a community deeply divided by a theological dispute. Many had left the community over the difference in opinion. Some had questioned the humanity of Jesus, saying that Jesus could not possibly have been born human; neither could he have died as a human. Schism threatened the existence of the community. John asked them not to seek revenge or to be bitter, but to love. “Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God,” he said to them. It is an inclusive statement that we so often glibly turn around. It calls us to love all of God’s children, not simply those we consider to be God’s children.
The risks of inclusivity are real. You might have to accept people whom you deem unworthy of the name of Christian. You might have to worship side by side with people of a different colour, race, economic status or sexual orientation. You might have to accept that we are all made in God’s image. You might have to struggle with the issues that face the Christian Church in the twenty-first century.
It may not seem like much to you as the story is told, but to the early church it was a complete change, a revelation. They were Jews. Their little community was a small sect, an insignificant branch of the Jewish faith. They maintained their ties to the synagogue. Even in the dispersion as the Jews began to spread throughout the Greek world, the expectation was that Christianity would continue to grow within Judaism. They kept the Jewish traditions. They adhered to Jewish law. But to their amazement, perhaps chagrin, the Gentiles were drawn to this new sect.
Judaism has never been an evangelical faith. They do not proselytize. Except perhaps through marriage, one does not often become converted to Judaism. One is born a Jew. It is tied to nationality as much as it is to faith. The early Christians grappled with how to maintain their allegiance to Judaism and live out their Christian faith. Could they remain Jews and still open up their faith to include the Gentiles? Yet that is where the Holy Spirit seemed to be leading them. And they listened.
When Peter and the early Christian community accepted Cornelius and his household as converts, they set a precedent, which changed their way of life completely. They went out on a limb for their faith. They went against culture, tradition, nationality, and religion. They were cut off from their roots. Yet their willingness to change opened up wonderful new possibilities. Christianity became a world religion.
Put that alongside the message of the Gospel. "Love one another as I have loved you," Jesus says. It is a call to inclusivity. It is not a call to love the loveable, the cuddly, the beautiful, the wealthy; rather it is a call to love those whom God has chosen. Yet what boundaries we put on God's love! We claim it exclusively for ourselves. We fail to affirm the validity of the religious experience of others simply because it does not resemble ours. We fail to respond to those who are looking for affirmation in their faith journey.
Jesus at the last supper offered the gift of himself. It was a gift without reservation, without restriction. In the Eucharist he continues to offer us that wonderful, free gift of grace. The reality of that giving is the model and criterion of Christian behaviour. We are called to "lay down our lives", to put others before ourselves, to love in a life-giving way. It is a call to be generous, not just by providing bread but also by sharing the deeper gift of ourselves. In the Eucharist, we share the one bread and the one cup with each other as a sign that in our daily lives we strive to share our bread, our blessings, and ourselves with others. In the carrying out of the mission of the church the Eucharist becomes honest and effective in our lives.
Jesus makes it clear that we do not do the choosing. We are the chosen. If you think about it at all, that is a tremendous affirmation of who we are, even of human nature. Why should we have been chosen to come into intimate relationship with God? Do you have a long list of reasons? If it were others choosing the teams, would we make it? If we were doing the choosing who would we exclude, or leave on the sidelines? With Christ doing the choosing we may find a few people included whose presence we find disturbing. The children God has chosen may break into the quiet flow of worship. The stranger with his hand out for help may assail our sensitivities. The HIV positive person reaching out for compassion may cause us to flinch. We are called to be inclusive of children, the poor, young people, refugees, social activists, the physically challenged, the mentally challenged, women, men, all whom God has chosen. Each of us is called to make our hearts open to those whose presence may disturb our peace and our assumptions.
How do we create Christian communities in which there is understanding and love in a life-giving, self-giving way? To create such communities would surely be risky on so many levels. It begins with responding to Jesus as friend. In doing so we would on some level “lay down our life for our friends”. It is unlikely that it would be the ultimate sacrifice. Yet we are called to ‘put our lives on the line for one another’. We are called to put others before ourselves. We are called to love in a life-giving way. It means being generous with other people, not just by providing bread but also by sharing the deeper gift of oneself.
Laying down our lives for one another may mean sacrificing time, thought, worry, concern, caring, sensitivity. It will result in abhorrence for the ways of the world, for the killing and alienation of the violent society in which we live. In the light of Christ’s Eucharistic sharing such things become even more abhorrent. Christ’s gift revealed in the Eucharist enables us to understand the unique value of human life and then respond.
How do we respond to Jesus? Do we respond as friend and brother? For we are blessed to have such a friend! If we are responsible Christians truly living out the gospel, then we like Peter must be open to the Holy Spirit moving in peoples' lives. It is not for us to ask how it could be that God would choose this person or that one; it is up to us to open ourselves and our community to others in Christian love. May we be a loving and caring community of faith. Amen.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
The Fourth Sunday of Easter, Year B
What a Fine Mess!
Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Psalm 23; 1 John 3:18-24; John 10:11-18
Slap stick comedy like Laurel and Hardy was so predictably funny that you laughed before you even heard the lines. They would get themselves into a mess. Ollie would invariably blame Stan for the mess. “I thought you knew where you were going,” he would say.
“But, you told me to turn here,” Stan would say back.
It would always end with, “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Stanley!”
What makes it so funny is that it is so true to life. Yet when it happens to us, when we are in the midst of such a situation, we don’t find it amusing at all. Like Ollie we are quick to declare it someone else’s “fine mess”!
The early followers of Jesus found themselves surrounded by people who stared blankly at their stories of the resurrection. They either greeted their enthusiasm with dumbfounded wonder at their stupidity. Or worse still they became hostile and suspicious. But they struggled on trying to make sense of their newfound faith. No doubt many of them simply shook their heads, saying to themselves, “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Jesus!”
These faithful followers had been so certain of where this had all been heading. They had been with Jesus for three years. They had observed him in action, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, building community. Then with his crucifixion it all came crashing down around them. They found themselves in a very different place than they had ever imagined. When they realized where Jesus had brought them, they reacted as we so often do. They hid behind locked doors. Like lost sheep, they scattered in every direction.
In all of the post resurrection appearances of Jesus there is that recurring theme. “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” And then Jesus comes, bringing peace, breaking bread, offering his hands to their touch, walking with them, until they see and understand that it is the resurrected Lord who is with them and will be with them. And yes! It is a fine mess! But there he is, the shepherd, caring for the flock, providing for its needs.
Put in the context of the struggle of the early church followers of Jesus, it is easy to imagine how the imagery of Jesus, the Good Shepherd became so beloved. It is beautiful, truly comforting. Even in our society, so far removed from our agrarian roots, it speaks of our yearnings to be in relationship with a loving God who truly cares for us. We picture Jesus defending the flock, laying down his life for the sheep. He walks with us through the darkest valley, leading us beside the still waters, restoring our souls.
It speaks to us of our call, not just of the call of the ordained, but our baptismal call. For the call of the Good Shepherd is a call first of all to loving. “Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action,” John says in his letter. Love needs to lead to action. If we truly live in obedience to God, then it requires that we lovingly and actively reach out to meet the needs of others. In that way we live in him, and he lives in us. We all have times in our lives when we are hurting or afraid. Someone is there for us. So when others are hurting, our call as Christians is to reach out to them.
Not that it is always easy! There are many who are lost, so lost that they cannot reach out. There are those who are addicted. There are people who can’t hold a job or finish a course of studies. There are those who cannot maintain a stable relationship. There are those who wander aimlessly through life. They may be lost in our very midst, even within our family unit. It can be frustrating to feel that we may not be able to reach them all. But it is even worse to think that we often simply ignore them. How do we reach out? What is our response when someone in the congregation is hurting, or goes missing? Do we even notice?
The call of the Good Shepherd is a call to lead. It is about allowing change to transform the lives of those to whom we minister. Transformational change is something that we avoid, but it is our mission. When we hear about the closing of churches, about declining attendance, about financial difficulties, it is easy to simply give up. It is time for us to stop blaming God for the fine mess we are in and start realizing that we have a mission.
During the Easter season we replace the Old Testament readings with the account of the early Church recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. It is not by accident. It is a powerful reminder of the effect of the resurrection on the lives of the disciples. These early Christians who had been living in great fear are proclaiming the kingdom in an effective way.
Take for example Peter and John. They were arrested, and brought before the Sanhedrin for questioning. They had been talking to whoever would listen about the risen Christ. These same disciples, who had run away following Jesus’ arrest, were speaking with power and authority. They were talking about the resurrection! Not a popular topic, I may point out, amongst Sadducees who did not believe in the resurrection. But they chose to contest a healing, a good deed done to someone in need. They were not happy about the healing because they felt that God should work only through them.
“By whose authority are you healing,” the disciples are asked. And their clear answer is that it is in the name of the risen Lord. It is the presence of Jesus that has transformed their lives. In turn they are reaching out to others in real and tangible ways.
The proof of the resurrection is always the transformation that it causes in peoples’ lives. An awesome power has been released into the world. Can we see that power in our lives? Do we experience that kind of power at work in our parish?
That is what is behind Peter’s response to the authorities. “If we are questioned today because of a kindness done to someone, it is by the name of Jesus Christ,” he explains. It was in the presence of Jesus that something had happened to him. He was changed, transformed by being with Jesus. Jesus’ kindness became his kindness. Mother Teresa says, “It is the Lord, who fills us with God’s love!” We say as we reach out to others in Christian love, “It is God working in us.”
Recognizing the voice of the shepherd is a life-long, transformational process. It takes us from commenting, “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” to being people who are truly alive in Christ. Like the early Christians we will be filled with enthusiasm and spiritual vitality. We will be applying our faith to our everyday life. We will know the power of the resurrection at work in our lives. We will reach out to others in real and tangible ways. We will be the Church.
Readings: Acts 4:8-12; Psalm 23; 1 John 3:18-24; John 10:11-18
Slap stick comedy like Laurel and Hardy was so predictably funny that you laughed before you even heard the lines. They would get themselves into a mess. Ollie would invariably blame Stan for the mess. “I thought you knew where you were going,” he would say.
“But, you told me to turn here,” Stan would say back.
It would always end with, “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Stanley!”
What makes it so funny is that it is so true to life. Yet when it happens to us, when we are in the midst of such a situation, we don’t find it amusing at all. Like Ollie we are quick to declare it someone else’s “fine mess”!
The early followers of Jesus found themselves surrounded by people who stared blankly at their stories of the resurrection. They either greeted their enthusiasm with dumbfounded wonder at their stupidity. Or worse still they became hostile and suspicious. But they struggled on trying to make sense of their newfound faith. No doubt many of them simply shook their heads, saying to themselves, “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, Jesus!”
These faithful followers had been so certain of where this had all been heading. They had been with Jesus for three years. They had observed him in action, healing the sick, feeding the hungry, building community. Then with his crucifixion it all came crashing down around them. They found themselves in a very different place than they had ever imagined. When they realized where Jesus had brought them, they reacted as we so often do. They hid behind locked doors. Like lost sheep, they scattered in every direction.
In all of the post resurrection appearances of Jesus there is that recurring theme. “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” And then Jesus comes, bringing peace, breaking bread, offering his hands to their touch, walking with them, until they see and understand that it is the resurrected Lord who is with them and will be with them. And yes! It is a fine mess! But there he is, the shepherd, caring for the flock, providing for its needs.
Put in the context of the struggle of the early church followers of Jesus, it is easy to imagine how the imagery of Jesus, the Good Shepherd became so beloved. It is beautiful, truly comforting. Even in our society, so far removed from our agrarian roots, it speaks of our yearnings to be in relationship with a loving God who truly cares for us. We picture Jesus defending the flock, laying down his life for the sheep. He walks with us through the darkest valley, leading us beside the still waters, restoring our souls.
It speaks to us of our call, not just of the call of the ordained, but our baptismal call. For the call of the Good Shepherd is a call first of all to loving. “Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action,” John says in his letter. Love needs to lead to action. If we truly live in obedience to God, then it requires that we lovingly and actively reach out to meet the needs of others. In that way we live in him, and he lives in us. We all have times in our lives when we are hurting or afraid. Someone is there for us. So when others are hurting, our call as Christians is to reach out to them.
Not that it is always easy! There are many who are lost, so lost that they cannot reach out. There are those who are addicted. There are people who can’t hold a job or finish a course of studies. There are those who cannot maintain a stable relationship. There are those who wander aimlessly through life. They may be lost in our very midst, even within our family unit. It can be frustrating to feel that we may not be able to reach them all. But it is even worse to think that we often simply ignore them. How do we reach out? What is our response when someone in the congregation is hurting, or goes missing? Do we even notice?
The call of the Good Shepherd is a call to lead. It is about allowing change to transform the lives of those to whom we minister. Transformational change is something that we avoid, but it is our mission. When we hear about the closing of churches, about declining attendance, about financial difficulties, it is easy to simply give up. It is time for us to stop blaming God for the fine mess we are in and start realizing that we have a mission.
During the Easter season we replace the Old Testament readings with the account of the early Church recorded in the Acts of the Apostles. It is not by accident. It is a powerful reminder of the effect of the resurrection on the lives of the disciples. These early Christians who had been living in great fear are proclaiming the kingdom in an effective way.
Take for example Peter and John. They were arrested, and brought before the Sanhedrin for questioning. They had been talking to whoever would listen about the risen Christ. These same disciples, who had run away following Jesus’ arrest, were speaking with power and authority. They were talking about the resurrection! Not a popular topic, I may point out, amongst Sadducees who did not believe in the resurrection. But they chose to contest a healing, a good deed done to someone in need. They were not happy about the healing because they felt that God should work only through them.
“By whose authority are you healing,” the disciples are asked. And their clear answer is that it is in the name of the risen Lord. It is the presence of Jesus that has transformed their lives. In turn they are reaching out to others in real and tangible ways.
The proof of the resurrection is always the transformation that it causes in peoples’ lives. An awesome power has been released into the world. Can we see that power in our lives? Do we experience that kind of power at work in our parish?
That is what is behind Peter’s response to the authorities. “If we are questioned today because of a kindness done to someone, it is by the name of Jesus Christ,” he explains. It was in the presence of Jesus that something had happened to him. He was changed, transformed by being with Jesus. Jesus’ kindness became his kindness. Mother Teresa says, “It is the Lord, who fills us with God’s love!” We say as we reach out to others in Christian love, “It is God working in us.”
Recognizing the voice of the shepherd is a life-long, transformational process. It takes us from commenting, “What a fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” to being people who are truly alive in Christ. Like the early Christians we will be filled with enthusiasm and spiritual vitality. We will be applying our faith to our everyday life. We will know the power of the resurrection at work in our lives. We will reach out to others in real and tangible ways. We will be the Church.
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