The Word became flesh . . .

     Those who pay close attention might think we spend a bit too much time in John’s prologue.  Even those who do not pay close attention to the readings, though, may well feel that we hammer the “In the beginning was the Word” passage of John a bit too frequently this time of year.  We usually read it before the singing of Silent Night and the lighting of the candles on the Christmas Eve service.  We also have it as a reading for one of our Christmas Day readings.  We also get to read it a third time on the first Sunday after Christmas.  Why, do you ask, do we spend so much time on just this passage?

     Part of the reason, I think, is that John serves as a theologizing counterpoint to Luke’s historical narrative.  Luke points us to the history of Jesus’ birth: Cyrenius is governor of Syria; Augustus is Emperor of the Roman Empire; Joseph and Mary were in Bethlehem in obedience to the command of Augustus; the Messiah is entering the history of Israel not at the head of a legion of soldiers or of angels, but into a manger; his clothing is by no means royal; and the first heralds of this confirming miracle are shepherds, a group that would have been viewed with suspicion by the city-folk.  The Incarnation happens in the real world, among real people, at a real time in history—that is part of the focus of Luke.

     John, though, places the event in the cosmic span of God’s plan for the world.  We cannot read John’s prologue without thinking back to the creation account of Genesis 1.  In the beginning.  Of course, John switches the focus from the author of Genesis to His own focus on the Incarnation of God, Jesus.  You might be sitting here this morning, a bit sleepy because you were up late putting together gifts, and wondering how do we get from the Word to Jesus?  In fact, though of you who have studied John extensively or taken local theology classes or maybe even EFM know that John never again refers to Jesus as the Word.  Why does John choose that description for Jesus?

     What’s in a word?  How do we understand the importance of a word?  Some years ago, when I was still serving on a Vestry, I had occasion to hear a young boy come to my sending rector a bit on the freaked out side of things.  Week in and week out this little boy heard Father Dan pray for the angels and dark angels and all the company of heaven.  The little boy did not want to pray for the dark angels because dark angels had to be bad.  You are laughing, but think of how easy a mistake.  Thousands of times Dan stood before that altar and prayed each time “ . . . joining our voices with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven . . .” but the little boy heard something different, something that scared him.

     Word is important in the Jewish understanding of God and a polemic against all the other Ancient Near East gods and goddesses.  One of the chief distinctions that separates God from the throng of other gods is His ability and willingness to speak to His people.  Lips they have and cannot speak; eyes have they and cannot see.  In fact, the first theophany among the people of Israel was the giving of the torah to them by God.  The people wanted to know what it meant to be a redeemed, holy, righteous people living in communion with the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  What they got was the instruction given Moses.  Moses came down the mountain with 611 instructions.  365 don’t’s and 246 do’s – yes, I know I am excluding the Two Great Commandments which sum up the entirety of the torah according to Jesus.  God revealed His character and His expectation for His people in those words.  In essence, God was saying to His people, Want to live like Me, here you go.  Follow these instructions.  Those of us who have studied those words, of course, know the difficulty.  We are like toddlers when it comes to the don’t, and sometimes we are lazy or fearful when it comes to the do’s.  The great news, of course, is that we are in the same boat, though.  We all fail the various instructions at various times in our lives.  We are all, like Israel before us, terrified to hear His voice or to see His glory reflected in the face of another.

     Then, along comes this Jesus.  Want to know what torah living is like?  Look at Jesus.  He keeps the entirety of the torah?  How do we know?  Because He was raised that Easter morning!  By virtue of His ability to keep the torah, Jesus is that firstborn without sin – the very sacrifice demanded of the torah for sacrifices.  That birth we celebrate last night would have no significance were He unable or were He unwilling to keep the torah and face His passion and death during Holy Week.  Why do you think Satan tempts Him so?  Why do you think we tempt Him so?  If You are the Son of God, come down!  But that discussion is for another time.  For now, we are looking at Jesus as one who shares the mind of God.  For John, this is best expressed by the understanding of the Word, and so he uses that word to describe Jesus.  Jesus keeps the mind of God.  If we have seen Him, we have seen the Father, right?  This is not new or isolated understanding.  The early Church did not sit down and say “Hey, let’s think up a theology to explain what we saw and heard.”  No.  It was revealed by God.  We have seen His face . . .

     It is also not easy understanding, right?  How can Jesus be co-eternal with the Father?  How can Jesus be slain in the mind of God before the foundation of the world?  What the heck are these Holy Mysteries really trying to convey?  We understand the challenge, right?  Does Jesus come into the world speaking the mind and heart of God and find the world going “Duh, I get it, now!”  No.  The world finds it a hard saying, a difficult saying.  John says the light shined in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.  Even though He came into what was His own, His own did not receive Him.  This stuff is hard, folks.  The Pharisees and Sadducees and the Temple Elites conspire to kill Him!  They, of all people, should have known who He was; yet they rejected Him!  Without the revealing of the Holy Spirit, you and I would be left to suffer in the same darkness.  Now, though, because He is Lord of our hearts, we have no need to fear the darkness of the world, do we?

     Think of our liturgy last night and how it reflects our understanding of this truth.  As we read this passage, what do we do?  We light our candle.  That’s right.  As we are lighting our candle, what happens?  Good job!  The lights are dimmed.  What is the outward sign of the inward and spiritual grace you and I are proclaiming last night in the darkness?  That’s right, our light is from Him and it will not be overcome by the darkness.  No matter how small our candles and how big the darkness, our flickering flame keeps it at bay!  It’s not easy, no.  The darkness is sometimes massive and threatens to consume us always.  But there, in that tiny wick, His light and life are in us, making us fit vessels for His power and heralds of His Gospel.  We can accomplish great things in His name, and we have no need to fear the darkness.  Holly spoke last night of challenges, of mannequin, ice bucket, and glitter challenges.  She also reminded us that the real challenges of our lives are to be found in how we respond to the darkness.  Will we follow our Lord and bear a cross worthy of Him?  Or will we give up, declaring the cross embarrassing or heavy or the darkness too much?

     Brothers and sisters, the peace and hope and joy of that Rockwell picture we call the Nativity is a fantasy.  Yes, God came into the world.  And for just a moment all creation marveled.  But Jesus came into a world, a Creation that was seemingly out of control.  In reality, we were out of control.  The fears and hurts and pains that were present in the days leading up to His birth still remained.  The consequences of sin were ever-present in the world He came to save.  Tomorrow we celebrate the death of the first martyr, Stephen.  Wednesday we celebrate the death of the Holy Innocents.  In our time we are grappling with the consequences of sin still in the events of Aleppo or, closer to home, the pains of homelessness or mental illnesses or racism or whatever elitism you want to include in this list.  Yes, ever since that Night, the darkness has tried hard to overcome the Light that came into the world, that came into us.  Yet you and I are reminded this day that His light burns in all who proclaim Him Lord!  His light shows the way in the darkness that seeks so hard to snuff out all life.

     And though I have mentioned His passion and precious death, and although I have spoken of the importance of enunciation in the Eucharist, let me speak a moment of what we are called to do in light of this Word becoming flesh.  That little Babe, whose birth we celebrate and in Whose glow we bask, will grow to speak of the food that He offers, His own flesh and His own blood, that we might have life eternal.  His language, and that of the early Church was so clear, that some in the Empire thought us cannibals, that we sacrificed young babes on our early altars.  It was one of the reasons for persecution. 

     If all we feel warm and fuzzy when we celebrate the birth our Savior, then perhaps our understanding of His birth has been domesticated a bit too much.  Perhaps, just perhaps, the true meaning behind the Eucharist has been clouded by scales in our own eyes or by the wisdom of the wise of this world.  That Babe is the Word which both saves the world and judges the world.  That babe is the flesh which both judges us and saves each one of us.  That Babe is the Flesh and Blood we consume each and every time we give thanks to God for passing over our sins and giving us both light and life.  That Babe is the Word of God, become flesh, that you and I might share in His glory for ever!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Sending a baby, sending you and me, as heralds . . .

      Sometimes, as Dixon reminded us yesterday, it takes a certain amount of arrogance to stand up before a congregation week in and week out and proclaim God’s Gospel to a group of people.  I laughed yesterday at his advice to Holly†, and not just because he dared to compare her to an untrained dog.  It does take a certain arrogance.  It’s hard to know where to push forward and pull back.  That’s why this endeavor we call preaching has to be done in prayer.  Certainly, I found myself in that same position of wondering whether I ought to preach on Isaiah this morning earlier in the week.  After all, everyone knows this passage of Isaiah.  It is the prophesy of the virgin giving birth that the Gospel writers will use in support of Jesus’ claim to be the God incarnate / Man divine.  What more is necessary?  Without shirking from the need to boldly proclaim the Gospel and at risk of causing some of you to feel like I am preaching down to you, how does one convey effectively the meaning of the text?  How does one take a familiar text and open it to a modern audience?  That was the gist of Dixon’s admonition to Holly.

     One cannot begin to understand the intricacies of this prophesy without an understanding of Ancient Near East geopolitics at this time and an understanding of ANE cosmology at this time, this time during which Isaiah receives the call, has the brand touched to his lips by the angel, and tells God, “Here I am.  Send me.”  Yes, our readings today pick up not too far from where Dixon preached yesterday.  God-incident?  You decide.

     Geopolitically, Assyria is on the rise in the ANE.  Egypt’s power has begun to wane; Persia and Greece are still a few centuries away from their respective dominations of Mesopotamia and the Mediterranean basin.  Assyria is the two-ton gorilla that is striking fear into the hearts and minds of everyone not a citizen.  To us, they would be like Russia or China.  To our modern enemies, they would be like us.  They have the best armies.  They have the best weaponry.  They have the most wealth.  And they are ruled by one of my favorite names in all the ANE histories, Tiglath-Pilezar.  Gosh I love that name.  As we had more children and ran out of boys’ names, I lobbied Karen hard for that name for David and Joshua.  When Karen would not go for that, I lobbied for one of the cats to get that name.  It’s not as bad as it sounds, right?  The nickname would be Tiggy.  It would stand out.  When people asked him why his parents named him Tiglath-Pilezar, Tiggy could say that his parents named him for a guy not unlike Alexander the Great.  He ruled an empire at its height in world affairs.  See, some of her eye rolls directed at me are well-earned!  But I digress.

     Assyria has been flexing its muscles.  In fact, as Isaiah has been being called and accepting that call, some battles have been occurring.  A number of smaller kings have banded together to fight the Assyrians.  And they have lost.  That is the position in which Rezin of Aram and Pekah of Israel find themselves.  Remember, the kingdom of Israel has had its civil war.  Shortly after Solomon’s death, the kingdom has been divided into the northern kingdom and the southern kingdom, Israel and Judah.  So Israel and Aram, smarting from a recent defeat at the hand of the Assyrians, have banded together to fight Judah, who declined to support the war effort.  Israel and Aram have decided to conquer Judah “to teach it a lesson” and to recoup some of the tribute and prestige recently lost.

     Judah is worried about these two armies coming together.  Although we do not read about the initial worry today, Scripture teaches us that the King and people of Judah were worried about their impending doom.  Isaiah, in fact, is sent by God to Ahaz to tell him to ignore the kings and armies.  They are all bluster and hot air, and their attack will not overthrow Ahaz.  Ahaz refuses to accept the comfort of the prophet.  Instead, he strips the Temple of all its silver and gold and sends it to Tiglath-Pilezar.  He calls himself Tiggy’s son and asks Tiggy to come and save him from the impending doom.

     Perhaps that bit of background might help you understand why God is wearied by Judah’s pretense at faith and piety.  Ahaz may not be willing to put God to the test, but he sure as heck is not willing to put his trust in God.  Ahaz would rather depend on what he knows, bribery and flattery, to save himself and his kingdom than upon the grace and strength of the Lord.

     To His credit, God does not respond like you or I likely would.  How do we tend to respond when we offer help and it is refused?  Are we quick to offer to help again, or do we tend to let the one offered help suffer for their rejection of our aid?  Do we treat them as those in need or as squanderers?  God sends Isaiah again to Ahaz and asks the king to demand a sign of Him?  Now, Ahaz plays the part of the righteous king.  “I will not.  I will not put the Lord to the test.”  The way our editors shape the reading, it sounds like Ahaz is a good king.  But we know better.  Ahaz has an outward piety, “I will trust in the Lord,” even though he plots and schemes to save his own skin by sending the gold and silver of the Temple to Tiggy for protection.  No wonder God is wearied by him.  No wonder God is wearied by us.  How many times do you and I responded with an outward piety while inwardly distrusting the Lord our God?  How many times do we answer “it is in God’s hand” or “No thanks are necessary, I was just doing what I was supposed to” when, underneath, we are convinced God needs our help, that God’s plan cannot work without us?  Like ancient Israel, you and I need circumsized hearts.  We need our inner beings aligned with our outward expressions; otherwise, we are much like the whitewashed tombs that Jesus criticizes in His ministry.

      Two weeks ago, when I stood among you and preached on Advent, I reminded us that we were called to be a looking back and looking forward people.  All Christians are called to look back at what Christ has done for us even as we look to the future He has planned for and promised each one of us, but it really should be in our spiritual DNA at Church of the Advent.  After all, we claim a “patronal season” rather than a patronal feast.  Another characteristic which ought to define us as a parish is our incarnation of God’s grace in a world that is so much like that of the Ancient Israel in our story today.

     Earlier, when I asked how you and I would respond to the duplicity of the king, I heard a few evil laughs.  I get it.  My inner monologue had an eviler and louder laugh.  How many of us, were we faced with Ahaz betrayal and duplicity, would maybe send a host of angels to help make sure the armies defeated Judah?  How many of us might nuke Ahaz for selling our stuff and trusting in Tiggy?  How many of us would feel betrayed at our “child” rejecting us and calling another “father”?

     How does God respond in His weariness?  How does God respond in His justice?  How does God respond to the betrayal?  The duplicity?  The hurt?  He sends a baby.  You and I might be tempted to throw angels or lightning bolts at the problem, but God sends a baby! In fact, in this particular story, God has sent two.  We do not read it today, but how does God confirm His prophesy with Isaiah?  He promises a son, Shear-yashub.  We do not speak Hebrew, but we know that Hebrew names in the Bible often have significant meaning.  In this case the name means “A remnant shall return.”  Is Isaiah called to deliver hard messages?  You bet.  Are things going to be hunky-dory for all the people of Judah and Israel in the near future?  Nope.  How does Isaiah know that God has not given up on him or his people?  Because “A remnant shall return.”  Yes, there will be suffering.  Yes, there will be pain.  But a remnant shall return.  Every day Isaiah sees his son, he will remember God’s promise.  When people look at you and me, they, too, should remember God’s promise, but that is through the second child promised in our passage of Isaiah.

      One of God’s instructions to His people is “your ways are not My ways.”  Is that anywhere more evident than in how God responds to Ahaz and to you and me in this passage of Isaiah?  Is that anywhere more evident than in the birth of that Baby we will celebrate next week?  You have joined me in rueful laughter as we considered how we would each respond to Ahaz.  But God sends a baby.  You and I are deserving of the same fate we have planned out in our heads for Ahaz, but to us God sent a baby.  The world is shrouded in darkness and rejects its Creator at every turn; still, God sends a baby.

     As Adventers, you and I are called to that looking back/looking forward whiplash.  We are called always to be reminded of what God has done for us even as we look expectantly to the fulfillment of all His promises.  We remember His death.  We proclaim His Resurrection.  We await His coming in glory.  That’s the proclamation of all Christians in the liturgy, but it defines our mission as Adventers.  It shapes our spiritual DNA.  Hopefully, it reshapes, dare I say transforms, how you and I incarnate God’s grace in the world around us.

     Think of the preposterousness of sending a baby into the world to fight evil.  Who, but God, would think to do such a thing?  And, yet, consider the significance of sending a baby rather than the lightning bolt or company of angels or whatever idea you and I had.  Babies are cute.  Babies are helpless.  Babies need time to grow up.  In sending a baby, God reminds us that He came as approachable, as fully human.  The notion would have been even more preposterous in the ANE than in modern America today.  God’s sojourned briefly with humans in the ANE cosmology.  The gods could not spend much time among humans because our fleshy ickiness rubbed off on them.  We do not speak much of it around here, but think of the significance of God becoming fully human as a baby.  God was dependent upon a faithful mother and father to raise the child, to protect the child, to nurture the child.  That child, of course, has all our experiences.  I’m guessing He got a splinter or three helping dad around the shop.  He probably caught colds and coughs.  He experienced the raging hormones of pre-teen and teenage years.  Jesus lived through every stage of human development.  You might dismiss this focusing exclusively on His divinity, but the Scriptures and the Creeds remind us that He was fully human.  He cried when Lazarus died.  He had compassion on the people because they were like sheep without a shepherd.  He was indignant toward suffering and injustice and the conflict between the inner hearts and outward expressions of faith.  He experienced everything you and I experience.  He is, in a sense you and I cannot begin to grasp, empathetic to our condition.  And He came to save, not to judge (at least this time).  Unlike the ANE pantheon, He came to take on the entirety of our experience, to remind each and every one of us that He created us good, that only our sins separated us from Him!  He came to serve, to live a pattern of life for all His disciples, that we might honor and glorify Him and our Father in heaven.  He is, to use the language of John from next week, the Word of God become flesh!  Shadowy and imperfectly, you and I are now little incarnations of Him.  You and I are empowered by the Holy Spirit to do those things He has given us to do.  Yes, we might say we are the baby that He sends into the darkness.  We are the compassionate, empowered disciple through whom He fights evil day in and day out in our lives.  It is we who are called to fight homelessness.  It is we who are called to fight racism.  It is we who are called to fight poverty.  It is we who are called to fight all ism’s that seek to enslave others in darkness.  And we fight that battle as His little children, trusting He will glorify Himself through our labors and cause us to shine with that light He has planted in each one of us.  We Adventers ought to be particularly attuned to that aspect of His call on our lives.  We are looking back at what He has done even as we await all that He has planned for us!

     One day the mission will change.  One day, He will send His Son in glorious, apocalyptic majesty as Judge and as Savior.  One day, we will be given rest from all our labors.  But this day, a day we call Advent 4, is not that day.  Until He comes again to judge the living and the dead, you and I are called to model the faith of a little child, to go forth in His Name to love others into His kingdom, and to remind the world that He truly has pitched His fleshy tent among us and desires us all to trust in His unfailing promises rather than to die in our sinful scheming.  We are called, like Isaiah and countless throngs before us, like all who claim to look forward while looking back, to remind the world He came as a baby that we might all have the chance to live forever with Him in glory to the ends of the ages.

Peace,

Brian†

Spiritual Alzheimer's and the antidote

     I was drawn early in the week to our Psalms, 42 and 43.  Mindful of our celebration of Morning Prayer and my need to make this a homily, it seemed a good choice.  Except, I could not for the life of me think of an illustration that might make these psalms make sense to us in 21^st century Nashville.  I read 8 or 9 commentaries looking for an illustration that would bring the separation felt by the psalmist in these psalms into something with which you and I could relate.

     Separation is not something upon which we modern Americans like to dwell.  It’s ironic, given our complacency in the destruction of neighborhoods and communities.  How many people do we have in our own families who value on-line or “social media” relationships more than the person sitting or standing in front of them?  When we go to restaurants, do we see people engage in intimate or vibrant conversations with one another, or are we more likely to see people showing their devices to one another when something catches their attention?  When’s the last time you sat on a porch catching up with a neighbor?  When is the last time privacy fences were not put up to keep the neighbors out?  We laugh, but it should be a painful laugh.  How many of us grew up in neighborhoods where, if we did something particularly nasty or dangerous, mom and dad were going to find out?  How many of our children or grandchildren, though, have that same connection to those where they live?  My guess is very few.

     The psalmist in our psalms today understands separation all too well.  He or she knows himself or herself to be cut off from God.  The initial image is one of a deer craving water when there is none in the brook.  But the psalmist moves quickly to his or her perceived separation from God.  I pour out my soul when I think on these things: how I went with the multitude and led them into the house of God, with the voice of praise and thanksgiving, among those who keep holy-day.  What causes this separation?  I think it likely that it is the Exile, but it could be more personal situations which causes the psalmist to feel cut off.  He or she looks back wistfully on Temple worship with the faithful, how the Temple was packed and full of praise and thanksgiving.  Maybe you relate to that memory?  Maybe you remember a time when you had to be at church at 10am to get a seat for the 10:30am service?  Maybe you remember when the choir was far larger, the number of attenders was far greater, the songs more heavenly, and the praise more joyful?  Still, we probably do not get the sense of isolation conveyed by the psalmist.

     I say I believe these psalms are written during the Exile because the psalmist speaks of the heavy soul, speaks of the time when he or she went to Temple with the faithful throng, speaks of a confrontation with the enemy, but speaks of God having forgotten him or her.  I have shared with you many times these first couple years that Israel viewed possession of the Land every bit as important as you or I view the sacrament.  Possession of the Land promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was the outward sign that God was with them, just as the eating of the Body and drinking of the Blood is ours.  There is a sense of “cut-offedness” that can only be explained something catastrophic.  Could it be Absalom’s rising up against his father, David?  Yes.  But David knew he was the cause of that rebellion.  Could it be David in his battles with Saul?  Possibly, but then the Temple was not built, so there was no “great old times” upon which he could look back.  The psalmist compares this feeling to that of a deer which finds a brook dry.  How do we understand such cut offedness?  Do we?

     I had prayed all week for a good illustration.  God was silent until last night.  Now, when it popped into my head, I realized the truth of it, but I wrestled a bit with God because it was too personal and I had not cleared it with my family.  The first homiletic rule of using your family as an illustration is Don’t!  The second rule is see rule #1.  Somewhere down around rule 10 is the “if you absolutely must violate rule #1, make sure you ask permission of the family first.”  I did not do that, so you all will have to pretend not to know this about my family if you ever meet them.

     A few years ago, my paternal grandfather decided to remarry.  There is nothing special in that declaration except for the fact that my grandmother had not yet been dead a year when he made this decision.  My father had called to share the news and was upset.  Even lawyers know you are not supposed to make important decisions so early in the grieving process.  Naturally, I was surprised.  Grandpa had made no mention of dating other women in our conversations since my grandmother’s death.  So, like Dad, I was a bit worried about his state of mind.

     I called my aunt and uncle just to get a sense of this woman.  It turned out I had met her a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.  It was so long ago that I could not remember her, but I remembered her husband and Grandma and Grandpa stopping by in Dallas for a quick visit during one of their road trips.  To make a long story very short, both my aunt and uncle were happy for Grandpa.  No one thought anything untoward had happened.  His new wife was someone who had known him for years, was financially secure, in good health, and had a good relationship with her family.  She was more active than my grandfather, and both hoped some of her activity would rub off a bit on Grandpa.

     So, I called Grandpa.  When we finished pleasantries and I asked about the new wife, he knew my dad had encouraged me to call.  I reminded him that lawyers see such mistakes all the time and that Dad would not want to see him fall into the same trap.  Besides, my grandfather is a deacon in the Baptist church and had given this advice to others in the past.  He chuckled a bit and then began to relate his side of this announcement.  I won’t go into all the details, but Grandpa shared how Grandma’s Alzheimer’s had taken her from him years before she finally passed.  It started slowly, to be sure, but it progressed to the point where she did not know him.  He was a strange man living in the house with her.  If he got lucky, she thought he was one of her brothers or father back in Nova Scotia.  More often than not, she thought he was his mother in rural West Virginia.  Now, my grandfather loved his mother dearly.  He just would rather not be mistaken for her by his wife.  Between fifty and sixty years of a life together was wiped out by that horrible disease.  She was his bride.  She was the mother of his children.  And she knew him not.  Sometimes, it really crushed him to see her recognize others.  He wasn’t being small or petty in that hurt.  He just wanted his wife to know him, to remember him, to love him.

     Looking around the pews I can see that illustration was the perfect one to explain the psalmist’s feelings today.  Even as I wrestled a bit with God last night about that illustration, I knew you all would understand it.  Heck, some of you understand it in ways I will not.  We have far too many doctors and nurses who have seen the ravaging effects of Alzheimer’s on individuals and on their families.  Right?  Modern medicine can do some amazing things for those who are sick, but not much of that amazing work does not extend to those who love them and suffer because of their suffering.  Some of you have experienced that same cut-offedness with loved ones in your life.  Some of you have had the misfortune of losing a loved one to Alzheimer’s.  A couple have already expressed to me a story not unlike my grandfather’s.  Like the psalmist, the loved ones have felt hurt, anger, shame, pettiness, isolation, unloved and any number of other emotions that arise when we are unrecognized by our own mothers, our own fathers, our own sisters, our own brothers, our own husbands, or our own wives.  How much more so should we experience those feelings when we listen to the whispers of the Enemy that we have been forgotten by God?

     And make no mistake, those whispers constantly bombard us.  Wolves in sheep’s clothing proclaim on television and radio that “God wants to bless all His sons and daughters.  If you are not blessed, it’s because you lack faith.”  That’s certainly a theme getting more coverage thanks to our new President-elect.  When something bad happens, the whispers still occur.  “Oh, did you hear So-and-so has cancer?  I wonder what she did to get that?”  And what of those people who have that storm cloud constantly over their lives, who just seem never able to catch a break?  What do we say and think about them and their relationship to God because of their circumstances?

     We are now two weeks in to this season we call Advent.  Stores have been playing Christmas music since Halloween.  Commercials are really ramping up.  “Buy a gift you cannot afford to prove to a loved one you really love him/her.”  I know, there’s no ad that blunt, but listen to the subtle message of the ads.  Our gifts show our love of those to whom we give them.  Parents must give up sleep and large amounts of cash to wait in line and get the “in” gift for their kids.  Heaven help you if you are married or, worse, engaged!  The sign of your affection?  Debt!  This season is meant to remind us of the love that God had for each one of us, for every single person we encounter in our daily life and work.  The world, in its rebellion, has turned it into crass opportunism and marketing.  Given the message of the world, it is no wonder so many people are depressed this time of year.  It’s no small wonder that suicide rates tick up.  It’s no wonder that there is a need for so-called blue Christmases in our churches.

     Our psalmist today reminds you and me that our circumstances do not reflect our relationship with our Father in heaven.  Never.  Never.  Never are you and I cut off from Him!  How do we know?  If we are existing, if we have our being, He is willing it.  He is remembering each one of us each second we are.  But far more importantly, He has already demonstrated His love of and His commitment to each and every one of His sons and daughters.  As we celebrate Advent and look expectantly at His Incarnation and His Second Coming, you and I are reminded that it was His love for us which led Him to that humble manger in Bethlehem, which caused Him to walk that path that led to Calvary, that gave Him the will to remain on that Cross even when we tempted Him to come down, that died in our place so that we might, like Him, be resurrected and reconciled to Him for ever!  That Gospel story is His reminder of His love for you and me and His testimony that we are never truly separated from Him!  Unlike my grandmother, who forgot my grandfather after so many years of life together, He never forgets us, He never stops loving us, He never even gives up on us!

     In the coming weeks, infrequent attenders or CEo’s (Christmas Easter only) will show up among us.  There will be a temptation on our part to whisper about them, to, in the words of the Pharisee, thank God that we are not like them.  The truth is, brothers and sisters, many approach these services with enough guilt, with enough heaviness, and with enough isolation that they do not need us to add to their burdens.  What they need, what you and I need, like the psalmist says, is to be reminded by the congregation that God loves them just as he loves each one of us!  Sometimes, it falls upon us as a congregation to remind those mourning the recent death of a loved one, those diagnosed with a horrible disease, those in broken relationships, those suffering from a lack of provision because of job loss, and all those wo for whatever reason feel cut off from God, that He loves them and us and that His memory, His works of power and salvation, is alive in each one of us!

     The Enemy wants nothing more than for us to buy into the lie that we are the masters of our own domains and captains of our own ships.  The Enemy wants this because He understands, better than many of us, that with that isolation comes the possibility of forgetfulness, the possibility of a spiritual Alzheimer’s, if you will.  If we buy into the seductive lie of self-determination, we can be convinced of our own cut-offedness.  It is our job, corporately, to speak against that lie, to speak that Word of forgiveness and grace, to speak God’s word of healing and power each time we gather, so that those who do not know Him or those who have forgotten Him, might once again be drawn into the arms of His saving embrace.  Why is gathering each week so important, some of you often ask me?  Is it the Sacrament?  Is it the preaching and teaching?  Do you need to feel you have earned your pay?  There may be elements of those thoughts in the answer, but the real answer is that corporate worship is the only antidote to the spiritual Alzheimer’s propagated by the voice of the world and the Enemy.  It is in corporate worship that we, and those who join us, are reminded that we are never alone, that we are never forgotten, and that we are loved beyond measure!  It is in corporate worship, brothers and sisters, that you and I and all who join us, whether our spiritual cisterns are full or running on empty, are given hope in the face of hopelessness, light in the darkness that threatens to overwhelm us and those around us, and strength to bear those crosses thrust upon us, certain that our Father in heaven will use us to His glory!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Post-Election Pastoral Note

Pastoral Letter November 9, 2016

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ:

     Adventers woke today to beautiful blue skies and radiant sunlight in central Tennessee.  For some, the weather was a confirmation of their feelings regarding this presidential election; for others, the weather served much the same purpose as the rainbow in the sky.  We were reminded once again that God is still The Lord, that Jesus still reigns as King, and that there is nothing new under the sun.

     To say that this election season has been incredibly divisive is perhaps one of the greatest understatements I may ever write.  For starters, seasons last only a few months.  This election cycle has been waged since at least December of 2014, though some pundits would point out it began the day after Obama defeated Romney in November 2012.  It is, therefore, no small wonder that we are tired, on our last nerve, or simply wanting the election to be over.  And when we consider the vitriol that has been flung through the airwaves, our Facebook feeds, our Twitterverses, and the blogosphere with respect to the candidates, divisive just does not seem to describe adequately the chasms between “us’s” and “them’s” created during this campaign.

     Now we have a new President-elect.  Some Adventers are happy, either because their candidate won on the other candidate lost.  Some Adventers are sad because their candidate of choice lost.  Still other Adventers are disappointed simply because they could not support either candidate.  I know these emotions are raw and strong right now.  It is precisely for that reason that I needed to pen this note.

     As raw and strong-feeling as we may be right now, Adventers know that this is not the end for which we labor.  Whether a Democrat or Republican or third-party candidate resides in the White House, our Lord Christ still sits on the throne!  We know that our real citizenship is elsewhere, even as we love our country and work to fulfill our Lord’s Prayer and work that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

     Many of our friends, family members, and co-workers, however, do not share that same faith.  As we look around and listen to the opinions being expressed today and in the days and weeks to come, we may hear talk ranging from triumphalism to despondency regarding the new President-elect.  Let me remind each one of us that we are ambassadors for the King.  Let us respond to the hurt, the fear, the sense of triumph, the anger, and whatever else we encounter with His heart and His mind.  One of the primary roles of the Church has been to embrace the marginalized and to draw them into the embrace of Christ, even as She has been called to remind the self-sufficient that their path is one of pitfall and disappointment.

     As this election season fades, we Adventers find ourselves about to embark on our season, a season of both remembrance and anticipation, the season when we remind ourselves and others that the Lord has come and will come again to consummate His eternal kingdom.  As such, we will be looking both back in history, reminding of what God has done, and forward, reminding us what He has promised to do.  As such, you and I are uniquely equipped within the Church to speak into those lives strongly affected by yesterday’s outcome.

     We know that rulers, no matter how horrible or how good, are mortal and do not last.  We know that each of us, each and every single person on this earth, is loved by God, “stamped” with His image, and called to eternal life with Him.  And we know that God can redeem all things.

     The Church, as nearly every demographic in this election cycle, has been dragged through the muck and mire of this election process.  The pundits and politicians have tried hard to sully her, and in the eyes of many they have succeeded.  You and I have a unique opportunity, though, to listen with His ears, to understand with His heart, and to speak His hope into the lives of others, thereby demonstrating His love and grace and hope to a people desperately in need to know that someone cares, that someone hears, and that someone loves.

     What can we do?  Listen.  We have two ears and one mouth.  Let’s try to listen twice as much as we speak.  Let’s pray that God gives us the ears to hear what it is that is causing the emotions in the heart of the other.  Pray.  Our Lord Christ instructed us to pray for our enemies and to pray for our leaders.  Can we not do at least that much for our fellow citizens who simply align themselves politically in a way different than we choose?  Invite.  To understand others, we need to get to know them.  Why not share a cup of coffee, a meal, an activity, or even a worship service?  Love.  Remember, we are about drawing others into His saving embrace.  If we know Him and believe His words to be true, we should comport ourselves with a joy and freedom and hope that causes others to seek the cause within us.  If they flee us, if they reject us, we need to be prayerfully discerning whether our behavior aligns with our words, whether we reflect a God who came to earth, died and was buried, and who rose again instructing all who call Him Lord to preach Him and His saving work to the ends of the earth that all might live with Him eternally!  That, my brothers and sisters, is our platform and our calling.

     As always, Holly† and I invite your conversations, your observations, and even your ventings.  If you feel you need to talk, to theorize, to cry on a shoulder, or to howl at the moon, give us a call or drop by to see us!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian McVey†

Our election and its demand on us . . .

      In this lead up to the election, there seems to be a tremendous focus upon whether or not we are God’s nation on earth.  I realize that my Facebook feed is only anecdotal and limited by the fact that it includes only those with whom I am friends and/or pastor and those who have sought me ought for their various reasons.  But there is a great deal of back and forth among my FB friends about our national status before God.  Again, as the prophet Jeremiah reminds us this morning, this argument is nothing new.  There may be nothing new, but that familiarity and ground well-travelled certainly deserves a strong reminder, and maybe I need to discuss some differences even as I point us to Jeremiah’s hope!

     One big difference, for starters, is that Jeremiah was prophesying to Judah, the Southern kingdom of God’s chosen people.  No doubt the northerners and southerners fought every bit as much as we do in the states over which is better, but both Israel and Judah were kingdoms of God’s people.  They had simply been divided because the people forgot the true king! (OK, technically, the king forgot the King, but you get the point.)  Unlike us in the modern United States, both the people of Israel and the people of Judah could trace their respective lineages to Abraham, both had the prophetic traditions reminding them of their responsibility and call to be a nation of priests and light unto the world, and both claimed a right to exist in God’s promises to David and then Solomon.  Both were as “people of God” as descendants of both Union and Confederate soldiers are today in America.  I know!  Ouch!  A little civic wedgie to go with our spiritual wedgies this morning. . .

     Another similarity, of course, was the perception in how the two kingdoms were governed.  Both Israel and Judah traced their governmental heritage through the torah.  Now, while neither the northern kingdom nor the southern kingdom tended to do a good job, both were meant to run themselves according to God’s revelation.  That revelation had social, economic, and political repercussions, which is probably why both kingdoms chose to ignore their responsibilities even as they were desperately seeking their privileges.  Way back in the torah, you might recall, Israel was instructed that it was to be honest in its dealings with foreigners and with one another.  The combined kings were told that, so long as they kept the Covenant, God would bless them.  They were also warned that a failure to keep the Covenant, a willingness to fall into idolatry of any sort, would result in their disgorgement from the Land.

     One of the specific blessings was the promise of rain, and that is obviously the important in the passage we are considering today.  Israel, as you many know, and really much of the area around it, is rather dry.  There are not many creeks and rivers.  There are few ponds and lakes.  Even today the modern political state of Israel finds itself struggling with water needs.  Given the weather patterns, little rain falls between late Spring and late Fall.  In fact, it is the Fall and Winter rains which make the land arable.  This understanding is not new.  God, in Leviticus 26:4 and Deuteronomy 11:14, promises that He will send the rain as part of His covenantal blessing with Israel.  The corresponding curse, of course, for failure to keep the Covenant, was that God would withhold that same rain.  That is our theological background of our reading from Jeremiah today.  The people of God were experiencing a drought.  In a people chosen by God and promised both a blessing and a curse, what should they have inferred about the drought in Jeremiah’s day?

     Now, unless you think we are being a bit too hasty or you are quick to point out that the vagaries of the world’s weather pattern are not enough to confirm this inference of divine judgment; other parts of the text, some read and some skipped this morning, confirm our understanding.  Verse 7 acknowledges that their sins testify against them.  And verse 12 brings in the added judgments of the sword, famine, and plague.  The drought, combined with these last three judgments, ought to be enough that the blind can see and the deaf can hear that God is displeased with Judah!  Back in Chapter 2 of his prophesy, Jeremiah directly accuses Judah of forsaking God, the living water, in an effort to fill their broken cisterns by means of idolatry.  Judah has forsaken God; and God has withheld His grace . . .  for a time.  In fact, God instructs the prophet not to intercede on their behalf and even announces through the prophet that He will not accept their sacrifices because they are wholly committed to Him.

     For those of us who like to think of God as a big buddy in the sky or as anything but as equally committed to justice and  righteousness, these instructions may seem . . . mean or cruel.  But such judgment, in the end, is hubris on our part.  Do we really think ourselves able to evaluate God’s commands and judgment?  And, given our failing eyes, do we really believe ourselves able to see beyond the judgment to the deliverance that God ultimately promises His people?  You see, if we stopped at God’s pronouncement that He was withholding grace and fought about the appropriateness of that, we would miss the deliverance ahead.  Look again closely at the words of the prophet.  Though he has been instructed not to intercede on behalf of the people, still he does make an appeal to God based on God’s revealed character.  Verse 9 Why should You be like someone confused, like a mighty warrior who cannot give help?  Yet You, O Lord, are in the midst of us, and we are called by Your Name, do not forsake us!  And verse 21 Do not spurn us, for Your Name’s sake; do not dishonor Your glorious throne; remember and do not break Your covenant with us. . . We set our hope on You, for it is You who do all this.  Even in the midst of this judgment, God’s prophet understands and expects God to deliver His people.  Why would God deliver His people?  Because He has promised!  And He is a God who always keeps His promises!  Thankfully, and mercifully, the Judge is also the Savior!  That is a message we would all do well to remember.

     So, why did I think Jeremiah a good place for us to be this morning?  What was in Jeremiah that I felt we as a congregation needed to hear?  Two things really stand out to me in light of discussions going on around us.  The first is this public discourse about us being God’s chosen or favored nation.  Are we?  Do we really think that the United States of America is God’s chosen people?  Sure, people outside these walls claim it.  Some expect to be sucked up to to curry votes.  But do we think this country is God’s favorite?

     I hope your answer is no for two reasons.  First, we are reminded in the Testament that follows God’s ultimate deliverance of His people, you know, Jesus, that God’s people is the Church.  I know everyone here remembers Confirmation class and can define the Church and Her mission in accordance with the catechism on pages 854 and 855 in our BCP’s.  Ok.  I know you don’t remember the class; everyone just refreshes their memory when they are incredibly bored by our sermons.  Why are you chuckling?  You think we don’t see?  Turn there.  Have a refresher glance.  In particular, look at its mission on page 855.  Do we live in a country that is  prays and worships, that proclaims the Gospel, that promotes justice, peace, and love?  If only 1/5 of us Americans go to church and less than ½ of us self-identify as Christians, we are failing on the first instruction and the second.  I guess the election proves we, as a country, promote justice, peace, and love, right?  Again, why the chuckling?  Seriously, though, if America is God’s favorite or chosen people, we are doing a terrible job of living into our calling.  And that failure ought to terrify us.

     Secondly, how does God treat His people when the fail?  Heck, how does God allow His people to be treated when they do follow His instruction?  Judah and Israel received the curses from God because they fell into idolatry, right?  God kept His promise to them.  He withheld the rains; He allowed armies to conquer them; He disgorged them from the very Land He promised their forefathers and foremothers.  If we as a nation are His people and we are failing God as a nation, what ought we expect to happen to us?  And nearly as bad, what ought we expect if we are doing His will?  Jeremiah gets three years in a cistern for his faithful preaching and prophesying.  That’s not exactly the reward promised by the prosperity gospellers who tell us we deserve a mansion, a private plane, and successful businesses for deciding to worship and follow God, is it?  And Jeremiah is not alone.  Scripture is full of people doing God’s will who suffer, culminating in the Passion and death of our Lord Christ, the only One to keep His torah, the only One sinless before God.  God uses redemptive suffering . . . A LOT . . . to reach us humans.  If we are His chosen nation, maybe we should expect some suffering that needs redemption?  I’m just sayin’ . . .

     Whether the United States of America is not God’s chosen nation is, in the end, of little consequence to you and to me.  We are part of His chosen people; we are the Church, that visible and invisible Body called to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.  That’s our job, yours and mine.  Are we doing our job?  Are we living as if He is alive and that His Resurrection has meaning for us?  Certainly, at least in one way, we have failed as a community.  We are, what, a month into a drought here in central Tennessee.  How many of us are praying for it to end?  I share that guilt, right?  I blamed the lack of rain on Jerry for changing the drainage system around the rectory.  He worked at that and, ever since, we have had no rain to test his work.  Is the basement drier?  Yes.  Is it because of Jerry’s work?  We don’t know.  It has not rained!  You and I claim to be God’s chosen people.  We claim that we are inheritors of His power.  We are instructed to intercede on behalf of others.  We even claim this as part of those benefits of His passion during the Eucharist, right?  Why are we not praying to end the drought?

     Back to the election.  How many of us are praying to God that He help us as a country discern our next leader, or are praying to God that He begin to equip our next leader to be the leader we need?

     How many of us are praying against the violence in the Middle East?

     How many of us are working to feed the hungry here in Middle Tennessee?

     How many of us are working to clothe the poor in Central Tennessee?

     You and I, by virtue of our inheritance as sons and daughters of our Father in heaven, are uniquely equipped to fight the things that God hates, to serve those whom God loves, and to be the hands and feet and voice of our Lord!  What kind of job are we doing?  Are we living like we believe those promises?  Are we allowing His voice to be co-opted by those who would continue to enslave those around us?

     I know this has been a bit of a downer.  I have probably afflicted the comfortable a bit too much this morning.  I would be remiss in my duties if I did not point each one of us, myself included, to the God of Jeremiah and us, the judge AND deliverer.  Jeremiah’s message was a hard one to hear and a hard one to give.  It is hard to hear and hard to tell people that they are failing God.  The truth, of course, is that we often are, right?  We are all sinners in His sight.  The gracious news is that God will deliver His people!

     You and I live on this side of the Cross and the Empty Tomb, and so we know the way in which God has begun to fulfill all His promises.  But even here, on the side of the Resurrection, you and I still do not understand how our redemption, how our vindication, will ultimately happen, do we?  We still live on the wrong side of the Second Coming.  How can we all share in His glory?  How can we all be kings and queens?  How can there be no tears?  Are we going to be in church for all eternity?  For all we know with certainty, there is much yet to be revealed.  And like the people of Judah, who are about to see God’s prophet imprisoned in a cistern and their way of living wiped out by a conquering army, you and I are called to remember that God is the One who calls us into existence, who creates His Church even as He created the world, and the One who fulfills all His promises.

     In the end, it does not matter whether the United States is His chosen people.  He invites us all.  And for those who have accepted that invitation, like you and like me, there is a responsibility placed upon us.  We are called to live as if we truly believe He has been raised from the dead.  Such a calling means we intercede, we feed, we teach, we proclaim, and we serve.  It also means we will likely suffer.  Brothers and sisters, this election that is fast approaching is not one that truly determines our fate.  That election was sealed a long time ago, when you and I were marked as His own for ever.  Now, now we are called to live as if we believe we are elected, called to share in His glory and His light for all eternity.

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Redemptive suffering in Jerusalem and our lives . . .

     I suppose I knew I would be preaching on Lamentations a couple months ago.  I was approached by a couple parishioners who wanted to explain to me that Lamentations was not appropriate in certain congregation settings.  Without going into too much detail, I think the underlying issue was whether it is appropriate for church to be a place where we mourn, where we acknowledge suffering, where we rage against injustice, and where we weep.  Most of us are used to messages about toughing it out, about having hope, about redemption.  Heck, we want to focus on answered Hail Mary’s in Athens rather than children casualties in Aleppo.  When we focus on the evil in our lives and mourn, though, such thoughts seem to run counter not just to popular culture, but to popular church culture as well.

     Then, during the course of the week, I met a new Adventer.  Betty joins us from Florida.  Her rector in Florida reached out to us to see if we could take her Communion.  She had recently moved here, was shut in, and still wanted Communion.  Such requests, as you all know, are no brainers.  Holly had bailed me out the week before while I was working around funeral rubrics, so this was my first opportunity to meet Betty.  Betty was very mournful.  Her husband of 70 years had died in the last month.  She had been hospitalized between the time he died and the day of his funeral, so she was unable to attend his funeral.  Upon her release from the hospital, she had interred his ashes.  Then, she had moved here to be with family.  On top of that, she had lost a son less than a year earlier.  And she felt like she needed to apologize for the tears.  Can you imagine?  I am certain many of us can.  Active mourning makes us uncomfortable.  Active mourning somehow makes us think we are not who we are called to be, and nothing could be further from the truth!   Remember, God caused Lamentations and the lament psalms to be written for us.  Better still, when He came down from heaven and walked the earth, He gnashed His teeth at the suffering He saw.  He railed against the perpetrations of evil that He witnessed like a horse chaffing at its bridle.  He even cried at the death of a loved one.  And we feel the need to apologize for powerful, mournful emotions when faced with hurt, loss, pain, or suffering?  As Percy Ballard reminded us a couple months ago, mourning is necessary for us, both for our physical and mental health.  Maybe, just maybe the Lord who created us understood that about us when He caused the laments to be written, collected, and preserved!

     Our reading from Lamentations begins with an acrostic poem.  Each letter of the stanza begins with the next letter of the alphabet.  We might say that the opening poem is the A-Z of suffering in Lamentations.  It makes sense.  We know the circumstances of its composition.  It was written somewhere around 567 BC.  Judah has been destroyed.  Its people have been carried off to different parts of the ANE.  The leaders have been killed or taken to the capital city as prisoners.  Many men have been killed in the battle and following bloodlust.  Women have been raped.  The economy has collapsed.  The Temple has been torn down.  Children have witnessed these atrocities.  And this has not happened in nameless cities like Aleppo, but in the city of God, Jerusalem!  Many in Israel believed that God would always protect Jerusalem.  Some believed He HAD to protect Jerusalem.  That was His holy seat.  What would happen were somebody to conquering it?  It would be a testimony that the foreign gods had conquered Yahweh in the heavens.  And, let’s face it, recent history seemed to have given that perspective confidence.  For some strange reason, Israel had already been defeated and carried off by the Assyrians.  Due to internal squabbling, Judah was left alone.

     Now, however, Jerusalem has faced the terror of God’s judgment.  God warned them through the prophet Jeremiah that this day was coming.  In fact, God promised them way back during the Exodus that He would punish them if they did not keep His instruction.  The Land that they so desired would disgorge them if they prostituted themselves and followed other gods.  God is nothing if not faithful!

     For generations Judah had ignored the warning of the prophets.  For generations, Judah had rejected the teaching of the torah.  For generations, Judah had proclaimed one message with their mouth and another with their actions and attitudes.  God’s patience had run out.  And this utter destruction, this terror, is the result.

     Our poem begins with the word How.  It is a fitting beginning.  How can this have happened to God’s people?  How can this have happened to God’s city?  How can this have happened to His home, the Temple?  How can the people of Judah and Israel still believe that God is good, that God loves them, that He still will keep His covenant with them?  How?

     We face the same questions both in our own minds and in the voices of those who know us.  For as much as we like to pretend we are so much more advanced that our ancient spiritual ancestors, we are far too alike.  We claim a God who loves children and instructs us to let them come to Him.  How can we claim He is who He says He is when see tragedies like Aleppo unfolding before us or we reduce our children to “not seen and not heard” status within our churches?  How can we say He wants nothing but good for us, when we have experienced similar economic meltdowns, when some of us must work two or three jobs to pay the bills, live in fear of hospitalizations and the out of control medical bills, or think the American Dream has simply faded?  If God is real and good and wants all humanity to come to Him, how do we explain current societal trends?  We, the Church, are losing members consistently.  Heck, it was just reported in Detroit last week at the House of Bishops’ meeting that our denomination’s losses in 2015 exceeded its baseline loss trend in a year where we were not fighting.  No parishes or dioceses left in 2015, and still our losses were higher than our baseline.  How do we reconcile that reality with what we think we know about God?  If we believe in the saving work of Christ, why is it more people are leaving our story than entering it?

     Personally, we all have issues which make us wonder about God’s omnipotence or omniscience.  Some might just lament our current political situation.  Others are struggling with far more oppressive realities.  Cancer.  Death.  Privation.  Loneliness.  Depression.  Other forms of mental illness which make us question whether we are truly loved by God, whether we are, in fact, loveable.  Some of us may be fighting with parents, with children, or with grand children.  Heck, this afternoon I will be leading a service at a wonderful assisted living facility.  Truthfully, it is in the top ten of such locations I have seen as a priest.  I would bet you big money, though, that none of the residents pictured such an existence in their 20’s, 30’s, 40’s, or 50’s.  I am certain many would tell us that Norman Rockwell never painted such a scene as idyllic.  Maybe they envisioned family around them.  Maybe they envisioned a lost spouse with them.  Maybe they envisioned traveling the world as they got older, saving their money for such wonders, only to find their bodies have betrayed them and require more help than they ever thought possible.  I know many feel cut off from their communities of faith.  They have shared.

     Later this evening, the youth and I will head over to Murfreesboro for the Compassion Experience.  I have never done it before, but I can well imagine what we will see and hear.  We will hear tales of how Compassion has helped to begin to break the cycles of poverty and dejection in some of the poorest societies in the world through education, food, and letter writing.  We may meet children or adults who were rescued from slums the like of which we cannot imagine in the States.  We may meet youth or young adults who are disfigured or injured from their work in their childhood.  That’s right.  While we are going to elementary school and griping about it, some children are working dangerous jobs, poisonous jobs, to support their families.  Six, seven, eight year old kids supporting their families because the poverty is crushing.

     How?  In just three or four minutes of highlighting, I have described world that is . . . wrong.  I have described lives that are . . . horrible.  I have described systems that crush rather than help, grind down rather than support.  Imagine what picture I could paint in your minds if I took more time.  Imagine how others, who have no idea of a loving Father in heaven, must see the world.

     I have shared several times over the twenty months or so that I have been here that we gather as God’s people for several purposes.  Chiefly, we gather to celebrate what God has done for us in Christ Jesus, of how we are all sojourners bound for a better home.  But I have also reminded us that we gather to celebrate life’s joys with one another and that we gather to mourn with each other.  We, more than anyone in the world, are called to realize that this, whatever the this is for each of us, is not all that there is.  For those of us who have money and health and beauty and all the advantages of this world, even those pale when compared to what our Lord has planned for us.  But those of us who suffer, those of us who battle disease, privation, loneliness, depression, or the effects of death on our life are reminded that this is not all that there is. 

     In fact, we gather to remind ourselves that our Lord understands precisely what we are experiencing.  When He walked the earth, He had the same emotions, the same responses, and even the same hurts.  Jesus’ life on earth was every bit as challenging as our own.  His apostles made fun of His hometown.  One of His closest friends betrayed Him.  Those who should have recognized Him, the priests and scribes and king, worked to have Him killed.  The soldiers mocked and spit upon Him, pulled His beard, punched Him and challenged Him to prophesy who did these things to Him.  Eventually, He was hung to die between two thieves, even though the judge, Pilate, recognized He had done nothing wrong.

     Yes, our Lord understands our hurts and our fears, but even more.  Remember, He was the Messiah, God’s anointed, who was entering the world to save us.  And how did we respond?  By falling on our knees?  By raising our hands in thanksgiving to God?  No, by challenging Him and His claim.  You saved others, save Yourself.  If You are the Son of Man, come down.  Unlike you and me, who must continue to bear suffering and pain even when we want it to stop, Jesus had the power to end it by force of will.  He could have lightning bolted those mocking soldiers.  He could have called angles to defend Him against the militia that arrested Him.  He could have shouted “never mind!” instead of “It is finished,” and who among us would not understand?  Yet He stayed.  By force of will He bore the hurt, the pain, and the suffering.  He stayed on that Cross because He loved us, because He knew how important it was and taught us that He could redeem all of that.  Every bit.

     Brothers and sisters, I know the church culture likes to claim that everything is hunky dory, that’s a theological term, once we have accepted Christ as Lord.  Church culture likes to promote the idea that “real Christians” cannot be sad, cannot be despondent in the face of overwhelming loss or evil, cannot have any doubts.  If you accept Jesus as Lord He takes away all your problems.  We tacitly accept the idea that our condition reflects the concern our Creator has for us.  If we are suffering, He is distant or I am displeasing to Him.  If things are going well, then He must love me.  Most of us figure out a few minutes or hour after our baptisms that bad things still happen.  We may no longer be of this world, but we sure as heck live in this world as we pass through.  Sometimes I wonder whether the church world does a better job of afflicting His people than the powers and principalities of the world around us.  The teaching of Lamentations and of all the lament psalms is that wonderful reminder that God uses suffering for His purposes and redeems it.  At times, He does let us bear the consequences of our sins.  In fact, much of Lamentations is a reflection upon the failure of God’s people to honor Him as they promised.  Put differently, if we stick our fingers in the socket, He sometimes lets us feel the sting.  But those punishments are never mean.  He chastens those whom He loves.  And for those who call upon Him, there is promise and hope even in the face of death.

     Other sufferings, however, are not of our doing.  Other sufferings arise because of the sins of others or because sin is in the world around us.  Sometimes, He allows us a share in the ministry of the Son.  Lamentations speaks to the fact that those who were faithful, who tried to keep the torah, suffered along with those who were hypocrites or evil.  Sometimes, He allows us to be the redemptive sufferer in the lives of others.  How we face cancers, how we face privation, how we face broken relationships become shadowy incarnations of the work of our Lord.  And they are powerful testimonies for others.  How can you stand at a grave and say an alleluia?  How can you face cancer and not lose hope?  How can you have lost your job and not be worried where you will live, what you will eat, or how your family will see you?  It is at those times that we are able to give an accounting of the ultimate joy that is within us.

     I can face whatever tragedy that befalls me because I know my Lord loves me and will redeem whatever suffering I face.  How do I know this?  Because, two thousand years ago, when He took that suffering upon Himself, He chose to suffer because of me, He chose to hang on that cross and die for me.  He proved His love for me then.  And because He has been raised from all that suffering and even from death and sits at the right hand of my Father in heaven, I know that one day He will call me there to share in that glory, too!  He has promised.  That’s how I bear whatever tragedies that befall me in this life.

     Brothers and sisters, we live in a dark world.  The forces of evil conspire to convince you and me and all those whom we encounter in our daily life and work that there is no God or that He does not care for them.  Often, circumstances seem to be on the side of evil.  In the Gospel stories, we will speak of storms and wind and waves and the threats to our boats and our very survival.  But you and I have been given a better song, a better voice.  We can look on the horror of the destruction of Jerusalem and know that God eventually restored her.  We can look on any number of the redemptive stories in the Bible and know that the barren were given children, the food never ran out, the family was redeemed, and so on.  We can look on the horror of the Cross and know that God raised our Lord from the dead.  And, with that redemptive perspective in mind, we can face the horrors and tragedies which beset us today, not sure how our Lord will redeem them, but confident that He will.  And that, my friends, will be the best sermon your friends, your families, your neighbors, and your co-workers will ever hear!

Peace,

Brian†

The Wolf of Gubbio

     I am often asked for tales and stories from my trip to Rome, now just less than a couple years ago, in the Church’s fight against Human Trafficking.  One of my favorites took part as the Holy Father and Archbishop of Canterbury’s effort to pastor those of us engaged in silo ministries around the world.  We were taken for a retreat to Assisi, to hear the stories of Clare and Francis, and to be reminded that our Lord has already conquered the world with His death, resurrection, and ascension.  The timing was perfect as we had been engrossed in some of the horror stories from around the world and we had watched, in what remains to this day in my life, the worst example of human depravity.  Francis and Justin thought the stories would nourish us.  On this day when we remember Francis, it seems appropriate to share one.

      People often wonder why Francis is pictured either with birds or with a huge wolf.  Those who do a bit of digging learn about the Wolf of Gubbio.  As with many tales, it is hard to separate what is true from what is the stuff of legends.  Once a play is crafted around a story, much like a movie in our time, facts can be blurred or lost altogether.  Who is to say that Brother Francis did not sit in the fields with birdseed scattered about and around him?  Who is to say he was not an animal whisperer of sorts?

     The basics of the story are pretty much the same.  The village of Gubbio loses livestock and then humans to a huge wolf prowling its environs.  The terror gets to the point that the village would shut down in terror whenever the wolf was thought or heard to be about.  At some point, either Francis hears of the wolf and the accompanying terror or faithful villagers approach Brother Francis with the tales.  After some prayer, Francis decides to go to the village and see what he can do, if anything, to help the situation.

     Upon his arrival at the village square, Francis is told of the evils of the wolf—how livestock has been killed, how humans defending their herds have been killed, how children have been snatched at night, and even how militias sent after the wolf have all been killed.  Francis determines to go and find the wolf.  Depending up on the version of the story, Francis finds the wolf quickly or it takes some time, enough time that the people of Gubbio presume he has been devoured.

     After sufficient time to increase the tension, Francis returns to the village with the enormous wolf walking beside him.  Both walk to the center of the village, and Francis relates the bargain he has made with the wolf.  For injury of whatever reason, the wolf is now living a solitary life.  It has need of a pack.  The pack provides comfort, strength, food, warmth, companionship, protection, and other such benefits.  When attacking the livestock, the wolf was only hungry.  When attacking the herders, the wolf felt it was only defending itself.  Francis proposed to the wolf that the people of Gubbio would be the new pack of the wolf, and the wolf would be a defender of Gubbio.  If rival villages or brigands attacked, the wolf would defend his new pack.

     Despite the reasons that screamed that such an offer should be rejected—some had lost family members, others had lost livestock—Francis prevailed upon the people to accept the newest member of their village and for the wolf to accept the villagers as its new pack.  Rival villages new to avoid Gubbio’s territory for fear of its beast.  Brigands were said to have left the village alone for some years.

     There are a number of gospel lessons to be told about this story.  Francis and Justin had us hear it to remind us that God calls even the wolves of humanity to repentance and reconciliation.  For a group of people who spend a great deal of our time dealing in the quagmire of human existence, who see human beings treated unconscionably, who see other “good” human beings think nothing of ignoring the pleas for help or even contributing to the circumstances that lead to such misery, the story was a powerful reminder of the reconciliation we are called to offer all of humanity, even the slavers.  Perhaps, if we were to model the life of Brother Francis, some of the wolves would join us in the effort to end slavery . . . As I say, it was incredibly powerful and incredibly necessary at the time we heard it.

     Obviously, on this day when we celebrate the life and witness of Saint Francis, the story still has much to teach us.  What if we loved our enemies?  What if we prayed for them?  Served them?  Incarnated Christ’s love in their lives?  Would these evils plaguing us today be as prevalent?  As a student of human thought and behavior, I have no doubt that evil would still exist—it will until His return and Final Judgement, but would issues of racism plague us as badly?  Would the divisions in politics be so strident and so dehumanizing?  Would we ignore the killing and maiming of children belonging to the “other”?  Would we accept corporations preying and playing on the least among us?  Would we accept systems and institutions as they are?  Or would we insist that His values govern everywhere?

     Obviously, to some, I have described a fanciful world.  To others, I have simply described the new heaven and the new earth that is to come.  So long as human beings are human beings, maybe this is the best that it gets.  But I leave us all with one reality that Archbishop David shared with us when telling us the story of the Wolf of Gubbio in light of the fight against human trafficking.  Our jobs as Christians, particularly those of us as Christian leaders and pastors, is to be reconcilers of humanity.  We are called to call humanity to repentance before God and to repentance to one another.  Slaves.  Slavers.  Users.  And those indifferent to the plights of others.  Whatever is true of the story and whatever is myth is for others to figure out.  But we were left with a challenging image.  A few years ago, when the church in Gubbio was restored, the altar had to be moved and refinished.  Upon lifting it out of its foundation there were found the bones of a large wolf.  What must have moved through those people and that wolf nearly 800 years ago to cause them to bury that wolf under the altar of their church?  Their dreaded enemy, the terror in the night, was entombed in an incredible place of honor, forever with his pack.

Peace,

Brian†