So, in
the course of our work in Rome, the Consultation watched a video that was taken
of a “Blue water” vessel before it made port.
To date, it remains the single worst horror flick I have ever watched,
and it is the sound that makes the disgusting far more horrifying whenever I
think on it. On this ship in question,
some slaves had been purchased to do the work of getting the ship from port to
port. It was a lure of false job or pay
that got the men to volunteer to begin with.
Before reaching port, the “paid members of the crew” began throwing the
slaves overboard. Then came the
disturbing part: bets were placed on whether they could shoot the bobbing and
swimming slaves (those that could swim) before the sharks got the slaves. What made the sound more horrific than the
video was the gleeful laughing at successful bets and curses at losses. All those laughs and curses and, let’s call
it locker room humor at sea, were caused by the fear and dying of other human
beings, who were being valued only for the entertainment value their deaths
caused or the proof of a marksman’s skill with a weapon.
Looking
at your faces, I can see some horror.
Before our gathering this weekend human trafficking or slavery was
likely something that happened elsewhere, if it happens at all, or, as we are
gathered some six miles from our border with Mexico today, more akin to human
smuggling. As shocked as you are to have
that scene described in general form in a sermon in church, imagine how we
members of the Consultation responded at the video and sound before us. Keep in mind, nearly everyone gathered there
thought we had seen or heard it all. I
am a priest. I am most needed or
requested when death is present. I have
no reason to cringe from death. It is,
to use other language, a constant companion.
I’m also engaged in what Paul calls that spiritual battle of good versus
evil, right? Part of my visit with y’all
this weekend was to teach you, along with the other presenters, how modern
slavery works and, more importantly I think to God, to ask you how God is
asking you to help in this fight. Even
more still, I live in failure in human trafficking. One of the ladies thought I had rescued hundreds
of slaves yesterday. I had to explicitly
make clear to her that I had directly rescued one slave. Count them: one! Each of those gathered with me was likewise
hardened in this fight. None of us were
newbies. And the oppression for us was
palpable.
People
often ask me what I think of Francis and Justin, as if I am in a position to
judge their worth. I suppose I should be
flattered that people care about my opinion, but I suppose I am a bit too
cynical in my old age. It’s ok, you
don’t have to choke down the guffaws.
But this is one of those pastoral responses that does cause me to give
thanks that God has called them at this time to those important roles. That evening, we were supposed to get a
private tour of the Sistine Chapel and the Catacombs where Saints Peter and
Paul are buried. Being a Classics major
and a student who had finished coursework for a PhD in Classical Philosophy,
but also a young man who had been forced by a discernment committee to
recognize God’s call on my life, I have a tremendous love of ancient things AND
no expectation of being able to see them myself. And here I was in Rome. I was seeing sides of Rome that only a LOT of
money would have made possible. A
private tour of the Chapel and the Catacombs!:
Can you imagine my excitement?
Imagine
my shock and disappointment when Archbishop David announced there had been a
change. Instead of going to the Chapel
and the Catacombs, we were going to get to go to Paul’s Prison instead. All of us had that look of “what is going
on?” that many of you have right now.
You may
or may not know, but we are certain we have discovered the house where Paul was
imprisoned when he finally reached Rome.
It was found under something like 12 feet of silt and a much newer
castle. If you go to Rome now, it’s easy
walking distance from the Pantheon toward the river, underneath a castle/museum. By the standards of antiquity, this was a
nice prison. It had its own well and
plenty of natural lighting from windows.
It had a couple levels to provide those living there an opportunity to
escape each other. What stood out to me,
though, as we looked at this rather small house was not the handwritten notes
on the wall, that seem to be identical to verses we read in Paul’s Epistle’s
and may well be in his own handwriting, but the fresco.
Against a
wall about the size of the space above your altar was a painting. Now, by way of tradition, I should first tell
you that our Greek Orthodox brothers and sisters have an icon of Jesus that
they claim is the closest we have to a photograph of Jesus. Protestants, naturally, dismiss the
claim. And, until a few short years ago,
so did the Vatican. As you all who attend
a church named for that saint are no doubt aware, Luke was a physician. Among his talents for healing were his
talents for drawing. Physicians often would
draw what they saw in their diaries or patient books. The Church believes that Luke spent years
interviewing Mary the mother of Jesus to get the information he shares in the
Gospel that bears his name. The Greek
Orthodox argued that, during those years of interviewing, Luke drew the picture
of Jesus and asked Mary His mother to help correct his errors. When Luke finished the sketch that served as
the basis for this icon, Mary had, in effect, said that the picture looked like
her Son. Why do I share that story and
what does it have to do with any of our lessons?
On that
fresco were a number of . . . vignettes.
Drawn kind of like a window were several scenes. There was a scene possible of Athens. There was a scene of Stephen’s
martyrdom. There were scenes of women
meeting with a man in a wooded area.
AND, there was a vignette that was clearly related to the icon I just
mentioned. In fact, they were identical
copies. Did the sketch that became the
icon serve as the basis for the artwork?
Did the artwork serve as the basis for the icon? We do not know. But they were clearly to my untrained
inartistic eye related.
After
some research, experts have concluded that the paintings were likely drawn by
Luke or a close associate. The details
on a couple of the paintings give them reason not to doubt. Our best guess now is that Luke painstakingly
painted that portion of the wall for his beloved mentor, Paul. Each of the scenes seems to recount stories
you and I read in the book of Acts.
Why? Paul, remember, was
imprisoned there. He was under house
arrest. His view did not change day
after day, week after week, month after month.
Can you imagine the monotony?
Plus, as Paul neared the end of his life, we know his sight was not what
it was in his younger days. Writing was
hard enough – Luke wrote some of the letters he dictated. Reading?
It would have been just as hard.
Ah, but the pictures! They were
bigger and more colorful than any writing on papyrus. Paul could have gone as up close as he needed
in order to see the scene depicted and, likely far more important, returned to
that scene in his mind’s eye. I see the
nods. Yes. We think Luke drew the pictures on the wall
to help remind Paul that God was faithful, that God would keep all His
promises. Paul had so many experiences
in his life with God, one might think it would be crazy to think that he might
have second thoughts. But picture
yourself passionate for the Gospel, confined in prison. Picture yourself a slave to Christ Jesus, yet
under the thumb of the emperor.
Emotionally and psychologically, what would that do to you over weeks? Over months?
Over a couple years?
Why do I
share that story? In truth, I am
convinced today it is a story about faith about which each of us needs to be
reminded. I had only a couple minutes in
Daniel’s office to prepare this sermon.
You can ask him. My real struggle
when visiting congregations are the illustrations. I do not know you like Daniel does. I have not walked with you through the
shadowy valleys and celebratory mountaintops of your collective and individual
lives. For me, that makes preaching
really challenging. How can I pass along
the certainty and excitement that His life-giving word stirs in me, if we have
no relationship? Yet, I was reminded yet
again of God’s faithfulness. I settled
on Genesis rather quickly yesterday afternoon following the human trafficking
stuff. But what would be that image that
would remind each of you gathered of why you are here? Of why God is deserving of your faith and
your trust as you go through your life?
It took one of your Saturday evening saints to point out to me that it
was a really nice thing I had done to incorporate your patron saint into my
sermon. She knew the stories of Luke
travelling with Paul and felt quite certain that if Paul ever had those dark
moments, Luke, the healer, would have been there for him to remind Paul, to
encourage Paul, and she hoped to exhort Paul.
When I told her I did not realize this was St. Luke’s and that the
illustration had popped in my head after a couple minutes, she pshawed me. “Father, that was too good a sermon to be
unprepared.” I told her if it was really
that good, then the Holy Spirit had, indeed, showed up in power to remind each
of us why we trust, why we have faith in God.
If you
think about it, our liturgy is designed continually to encourage us in our
faith. The first half of our service is
called what? Yes. I ask questions and expect answers. What is it called? That’s right.
The Liturgy of the Word. What do
we do during that part of the service?
That’s right. We read the
assigned lessons and listen to a preacher teach on those lessons. What else is in that part of the
liturgy? I never said this had to be
closed book, but I thought y’all went through Confirmation class. That’s right.
Prayers! We commend to God our
prayers of intercession and thanksgiving.
What else? That’s right! We begin preparation for the liturgy of the
Sacrament by repenting of our sins and by sharing the peace with those who will
go to that altar rail with us. In
effect, we remind ourselves that we are sinners in need of God’s grace. Then comes the liturgy of the Sacrament,
where we remind ourselves that Jesus died for us, that He was raised on the
third day, and that He will one glorious day come again. We proclaim that holy mystery each and every
time we gather. Liturgically, each and
every time we gather, we remind ourselves that God alone is deserving of our
faith, that God alone can bring His promises to fulfillment, that nothing can
separate us from God’s promises except our faith, or rather our rejection of
God.
Look at
your reading from the Old Testament today.
What is going on? We are a little
more than three chapters into the relationship that God has begun to forge with
Abraham and Sarah. As God reminds
Abraham in today’ reading, God has called them from the land of Ur of the
Chaldeans. God has promised them an heir. God has promised them ownership of the Land
before them. Just to remind you, Abraham
and Sarah are pretty old at this point.
They are closer to 100 than 70.
If God came to those of us in our 60’s or 50’s and said He was going to
give us an heir and ownership of Land which was owned by however many tribes of
“ites,” how many of us would be excited?
Ladies,
let’s put it like this, how many of you would relish going through the bodily
changes and hormonal changes of pregnancy, the pain of labor, the sleep depraved
state you get for caring for a newborn, the stubbornness of toddlers, and the
insolence of teenagers at your current age again? What?
No volunteers? It’s ok ladies, I
have seven. I love them dearly, but I
have no desire to do it again in my fifties let alone my nineties. And I, like Daniel, am a professional
Christian.
Gentlemen,
I know you were all far better husbands than I was when my wife was going
through those bodily changes with our first six. You probably got up in the middle of the
night to bring the babies to her for their nightly feedings and made sure you
changed all the diapers. No doubt you
did all the cooking and the cleaning to make mothering easy for your wife. Whoa!
Hold on! There are some sharp
elbows being thrown into the ribs of these considerate men. Let’s dial that down a bit. Though, I confess, gentlemen, I am glad I am
not the only one who got those all wrong.
Let’s
pretend you did the husband stuff well, but now you get to wrest control of the
Land from all those tribes. Will God
make you work to get the money to purchase the Land? That’s a lot of work for men near retirement age. Will he make you fight? Anybody still try and exercise at your
current age? For those of you who served
in the military, how many of you would relish going through boot camp in your
nineties? Are y’all sitting on your
hands?
I’m glad
everyone is laughing, but I hope you see the point. Abraham and Sarah were man and woman like you
and me. If God made that promise to us,
we would throw out all kinds of objections.
Sarah and Abraham do the same thing.
We are too old to have a child, so
we’ll adopt. God says we cannot adopt,
so I’ll give a slave girl to Abraham. He’ll
“do his duty” and I’ll resent her fertility and her offspring. Oh, and let’s not forget God must be crazy. There is no way we are going to be able to
defeat all those “ites.” It’s those
thoughts that serve as the basis for Abraham’s questions. How can this be, God. We are old.
Sarah is no longer menstruating.
We have too few to fight.
God
answers Abraham’s questions with two visions.
We might think God is disappointed in us when we question Him. He seems not to mind questioning Him too
much. Most of the folks about whom we
read in the Scriptures had questions, just like you and me. Heck, one of their grandsons will wrestle
with God until He pops his hip out of socket.
And like
you and me, I hope, ultimately they also had faith. Though reason and the world would tell them
that such a promise could not possibly come true, Abraham and Sarah ultimately
believed God, and He credited their faith as righteousness. And, in the end, that’s all He asks of
us. In some ways, I am often amazed at
Abraham and Sarah’s faith. How hard must
it have been for them to believe compared to Paul or us? Paul had the mystical encounter with the
Risen Jesus on the Road to Damascus. You
and I, like Paul, live on this side of the Empty Tomb and Ascension. Plus, we have however many thousands of years
of examples of God’s faithfulness. We
can look to Noah or to Moses or to the Exile or to the Apostles or to those who
introduced us to God. The Bible is full
of those stories. Abraham and Sarah
lacked those stories. Yet, embedded in
this story is that shadowy reminder of what is to come.
The first
vision is easy. God promises Abraham
that his descendants will be impossible to count. That you and I are part of that family is further
proof of God fulfilling that promise.
The other requires a bit more teaching.
In the Ancient Near East, there were treaties known as Suzerain
covenants. In English, these treaties
were usually signed by kings at war with one another. At some point in the hostilities, a king
would likely realize his armies were losing and sue for peace. The stronger king might offer a suzerain treaty
or might go ahead and eliminate the opposition.
What we
see in Abraham’s vision is what we Episcopalians might call a suzerain
liturgy. Terms would be drawn up by the
two kings. The vassal or conquered king would
agree to provide however much gold or silver or wood or whatever his land was
producing, maybe young males for military service, maybe young females for
concubines. The terms were really set by
the stronger king because, well, he was winning. Then, once the terms were agreed upon, the
vassal king would pass between the halves of slaughtered animals declaring to
those witnessing the event that, should he fail to keep the jot and tittle of
the covenant, that such should be done to him and his family. Put in the language of modern just war, if
the vassal king failed in any of the obligations to which he had assented, the
stronger king had the right to slaughter him and his family.
In our
story today, who is the stronger king and who is the vassal? That’s right, God is far and away the
stronger. Who should pass through the
slaughtered halves declaring the stronger king has the right to slaughter him
and his family if they do not abide the terms?
That’s right! Abraham. Who actually passes through? You can say it louder. That’s right, God.
All the
way back in Genesis 15 God promises that He will deliver and propagate and
redeem Abraham and Abraham’s family. And
the oath that God swears to Abraham is understood by Abraham to mean “If your
descendants do not number like the stars and do not receive the land I have
promised, then you (they) can slaughter Me.”
I see
some of you already see it. What is God’s
promise to us? That He will redeem us,
that He will vindicate us, that He will rescue us from all that oppresses us,
right? By what are we truly
oppressed? Sin and its consequences,
right? Each of us gathered here today
understands at varying levels that we are each oppressed by sin. It may not be a conscious thought outside the
season of Lent and Daniel’s call that you each enter into a Holy Lent, but it
is always there. Do not raise your
hands, but how many of you are oppressed by issues of provision? How many of you are oppressed by issues of
disease? How many of us, unless Christ’s
comes before we get there, are oppressed, like Paul, by the threat of death? How
many of us are oppressed by the consequences of failed relationships? Of bad parenting? Of being bad children? How many of you are oppressed by
addictions? Chances are, I have hit one
or more for each of us in that short list, but I or Daniel or you could go on
and on. What was God’s promise
again? That He would redeem all
that? Who promised to die if we could
not do as He instructed? God. Who died to redeem us from sin and
death? Jesus! Or God, if you prefer. When we could not keep the covenant He made
with us, He died for us, to bridge that chasm we created. It truly is good news.
In fact,
it is better than good news. Ultimately,
of course, the consequences of our sins lead to death. Death is that one oppression that you and I
are reminded we cannot overcome. In
truth, there are many others, but death really stands out. To the world it seems the finality of
things. We avoid talking about it; we
avoid planning for it; we avoid naming it for fear we may hasten its
approach. Yet the Resurrection reminds
us Christians, us sons and daughters of Abraham and Sarah to use the words from
the conference yesterday, that God can redeem even death. And if He has power to redeem our deaths, He
has power to redeem those oppressions in our lives which seem less onerous,
less dark than death! And to receive
that promise, to become the beneficiary of that power, all He asks us to do is
believe in Lord Christ. Believe that He
became Incarnate, believe that He died, believe that He rose again, and believe
that He will one day come again. It is so
simple a request; yet so many in the world reject it.
Brothers
and sisters of St. Luke’s Launion, you have had quite the weekend. A number of you were involved in the planning
and execution of this gathering. You
hosted folks from around the diocese and, in fact, from around the country and
the world, well, Arizona and Tennessee and Mexico, at least. A few of you have expressed pleasant surprise
at how well it was received. You who sit
close to a fence that is a symbol of division in this country and in the world,
have given a particular focus, a particular voice, to those who are oppressed
by some of the evil in the world. More significantly,
you have reminded the world that we do this because the oppressed, the enslaved
in the world, bear the same image of our Lord God that we each bear. You have hosted business leaders and
academics not members of your congregation.
You have hosted members of other denominations, Roman and Baptists at
least, demonstrating the unity to which our Lord Christ calls us. You have hosted a few people who were open
that they do not accept the promises of God as revealed in Christ. The press has even taken notice and shared
with the world the work you did this weekend.
You have picked up the mantle obefitting a son or daughter of Abraham
and worn it well this weekend, serving as a small kingdom of priests, a flicker
of light unto the wider world. Well done!
Talking
to a few of you on the side this weekend, I get the sense that there are a lot
of emotions out there right now. I trust
much is caused by the exhaustion of planning and executing such events. Some are disappointed the conference was not
bigger. Some are worried that Daniel is
encouraging the parish to pray and discern its role in the fight, if any, when
you want to get right to work. Some of
you are worried that you lack a skill to engage in this fight. On more than one occasion I remarked how some
expressed, either obliquely or bluntly, that nothing exciting ever happens
here, that nothing ever goes on here in Launion. My brothers and sisters, the same thing used
to be said of Nazareth. A desolate
region of the armpit of the Roman world.
Nobody, but nobody wanted to serve the empire in Judea. And the folks in Judea made fun of Nazareth
like we do of hillbillies back east. Yet
salvation came out of Nazareth to the ends of the world. And God calls each of you, each of us, to
live as if we believe, trusting that He will use us for His redemptive purposes
wherever He plants us. God is at work in
Launion today every bit as much as He was in Nazareth 2000 years ago!
My
brothers and sisters, you have seen His promises fulfilled in your lives. You have seen His purposes fulfilled even in
Launion. Now it is your unique and God
given responsibility to, as your patron saint once wrote, to go into the world
to proclaim and demonstrate good news to the poor, to proclaim and demonstrate freedom
to prisoners, to proclaim and demonstrate restoration of sight for the blind,
and to proclaim and demonstrate by word and deed that the oppressed, you and me
and all them in the world around us, can be truly free in Christ!
In Christ’s Peace and Power,
Brian†
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