Sadness and rage and His promise and our hopes in laments . . .

     I had to chuckle at both the week and the readings assigned for this week.  Bibi and I had a bit of a conversation that involved her joining in the criticism of the the lectionary editors.  The reading from Matthew assigned for Father’s Day, in her mind, was not particularly fatherly.  Jesus is sounding harsh with all the divisions He brings.  I had to explain to her that this week’s reading builds on last week’s reading, so it is not as harsh as it sounds.  And she thought it weird that we do not memorialize Father’s Day or Mother’s Day in liturgical churches.  That got her going on the need for the churches to lead society in the teaching about the importance of family.  Y’all are chuckling because you know she was preaching to the choir.

     I was chuckling because I had promised and prepared y’all for a summer and fall of the prophets’ calls to walk humbly and do justice.  Our first OT reading last week, though, was more a history teaching than prophetic teaching.  This week’s is even worse!  It’s a lament!  In fact, it is one of Jeremiah’s great laments.  Which brings me to the week.

     Things around here have been tough the last week.  True, they have been tough for three months, but this week has represented a nadir of sorts.  I think six Adventers were hospitalized this week.  That has brought back into focus the spiritual cost of illnesses during this pandemic.  Most of the hospitals are not allowing us in unless we are immediate family.  People are suffering in isolation in addition to whatever illnesses or injuries are besetting them.  Bobbie has had, what, three surgeries in the last week or ten days?  Michael may have had to have the mesh removed from his last surgery and replaced which was done because the first mesh from his transplant was torn.  If it sounds painful, it’s because it is.  Jane’s was a bit happier.  She’s getting a new knee.  In no time, she and Ronnie will be dancing again, but it still hurts in the interim.  Frances was admitted for stroke-like symptoms.  You get the picture.     

          In the background to that, my extended family was having its own health issues.  Karen’s mother continues to suffer from the effects of her concussion and the lack of a primary care physician.  My mom complained about an issue with her port for dialysis and then radio silent.  It turns out it’s pretty normal.  Apparently, most patients have it done every six months or so.  Mom had gone three years, so she was due.  My grandfather fell and broke his hip.  Yes, he is suffering from Alzheimer’s or dementia and is in his nineties.  My uncle was faced with the prospect of allowing surgery that my grandfather might not understand or be able to rehab or letting him remain bedridden in severe pain for the rest of his life.  Y’all get the picture.

     Pastoral conversations have continued to be deep and painful.  In case you have forgotten, much of the world is still protesting, some of the world is rioting.  There’s an election on the horizon. Some folks are worried that employment is NOT on the horizon.  A new wrinkle has been the newest emotions facing members of our parish and diocese who are People of Color.  The rush of white folks to learn all the issues has been exhausting, frustrating, and even worrisome to them.  Apparently, a memo went out a couple weeks ago that white people should ask their black friend about societal injustices.  Y’all are laughing nervously a bit, but think of the position we put them in now.  Hey, Fred, tell me about the injustices you face on a daily basis.  If Fred is the only PoC that folks know, he’s being asked that a lot.  How much should he share?  How much should he get his hopes up that THIS time it is different?  How does he respond to the comments of the white person asking.  I did not know can be a frustrating response.  Did we not know, or did we not want to know?  Will we be allies going forward, or will we think our jobs are done since we spent a few minutes in uncomfortable listening?  Will we re-evaluate our opinions of Fred positively or negatively?  Every time we ask incredulously how Fred put up with x, y, or z, we are reinforcing we really did not know Fred.

     I have touched on a lot.  There is some squirming here, so I know the Holy Spirit is giving wedgies.  I imagine, for all my summary, I’ve left out your issues, the background noise of your life this week.

     Even my “easy” conversations had challenges this week.  I was approached by the oldest AA group in Brentwood about meeting on our campus once or twice a week.  Usually, they meet at restaurants.  Most of those have cut capacity around here; and let’s face it, do we want to go to those restaurants that have not?  In case you do not speak AA, it is Alcoholics Anonymous.  They are encouraged to refrain from drinking alcohol by one another much like you are encouraged to refrain from sinning at church.  You see where this is going?  How happy are restaurants around here willing to tolerate men refraining from drinking from tying up their limited space for an hour or ninety minutes?

     They had been encouraged to approach me because we are already open to a Twelve Step Group.  They had heard I had some experience with AA and that I claim it is rooted in the Episcopal Church.  That led to a discussion about a number of issues, but most importantly the discussion of the monkey.  How do I reconcile a loving God with His unwillingness to take away the addiction?  Did I understand the pain and hurt that came with that never-ending suffering?

    For my part, I was well-prepared for that conversation, though it was no less painful and dark.  One of my great . . . pastoral challenges was a suicide some years ago.  I’ll spare you the details I shared with these leaders, but I had a gentleman approach me about baptism.  He was convinced Jesus would take away all the pain, all the suffering, all the addiction.  I reminded him that our Lord is a redemptive sufferer, that He uses redemptive suffering to reach others.  I could baptize Him and offer him assurance that His life would be redeemed, that one glorious day in the future, all the hurt and pain and suffering that came from his addiction would not even be worth a tear.  But my experience had been that addiction was a cross that many Christians bore.

     After several weeks, the young man in question decided to pursue baptism.  I thought I had done a good job inoculating him against all the “If God really loves you, He will take the monkey from you” nonsense.  In the end, I was wrong.  A couple years later, he relapsed.  His relapse, in a moment of darkness, led to his taking of his own life.  And I found myself in the middle of a funeral for all those who loved him, who had rooted for him, and who mourned his suicide, with the easy task of preaching God’s love and power.  After that cheerful discussion, the AA guys decided I might be ok, I might have a sense of what they experience on a daily basis, that and my conversations with Bubbles, and my struggles with my own sins.  

     In one of my other group discussions this week, I found myself engaged with nearly every Christian platitude full of heresy.  For the gentleman in question, it began with “God needed another angel” with his explanation of an untimely death.  Y’all know me now.  Not much pisses me off more than when Christians make God sound like a monster all in the interest of dealing with their own struggles.

     Man, I pounced.  I pounced like he’d been saying it for weeks.  I’m sure he meant well.  Most do.  But what are we saying that when we say that phrase.  For his part, he’d kind of forgotten that part that our eternal existence will be greater than that of the angels.  He’d also kind of forgotten that the Lord, the Creator of heaven and earth, can CREATE an angel, if He needs one.  He does not need to kill us to get another.  He sort of specializes in creating from nothing, so He does not need our bodies or our space or our souls or whatever.

     That heretical platitude caused others to share their own.  I had an entire hour or so of remedial teaching and passionate argument because “well, my pastor of 60 years taught me that, if I have faith enough, God will give me money or health or whatever.”  Works righteousness is like a vampire.  It is too hard to kill.

     This sermon would have been a bit too focused on me and way too dark, a couple at 8am said it was still too dark, but I was reminded of the power of laments by a seeming fun-loving Episcopalian last night.

     One of the blessings of Coronatide has been the opportunity to rewatch movies.  In between all the Marvel movies and MiB movies and Indiana Jones movies, there have been some great movies I have forgotten.  One is a fictional story about a real doctor.  The movie is called Patch Adams, and the doctor is played by none other than Robin Williams.  Good, I see many of you have seen it.  For those of you who have not, Patch Adams was a medical student who believed that, in treating only the disease or the injury, we fail to help human beings be truly human.  He was a big proponent of creating a medical community that listened, that empowered, that laughed, and even, if the time came, did not view death as the enemy.  For his views, a medical dean tried to keep him from graduating despite his good grades.  For all his work, he saw thousands of patients after his graduation, and for all the fame generated by this movie, he failed terribly.  Look at our medical system now.  Doctors must see a patient every six minutes.  They don’t really get to know us.  How can they in six minute bursts?  And we treat symptoms far more than underlying causes.  I see the nods.

     Robin Williams plays the lead character, Patch.  Robin was a famous Episcopalian.  He is often credited with that “Top Ten Reasons to be an Episcopalian List” that was a riff on David Letterman back in the day.  Like the Roman Catholic Church: all the pomp and circumstance but none of the guilt.  You never have to handle snakes.  Where three or four are gathered, there’s always a fifth!  Good, may on you know that list.

     I was watching Robin’s scene last night where he stands on the cliff arguing with God, contemplating suicide.  Naturally, I wondered whether he ad-libbed the scene and gave us insight into his own personal demons.  But that fight with God was real.  He was not acting.  To place it in the movie, his girlfriend was killed by a patient.  He blames himself for her death.  He stands at the cliff pondering the jump.

     God, You tell us You made everything.  Given the evil and suffering and meanness of human beings, don’t you think you should have spent an extra session or two of eternity in a brainstorming session?

     God, later You tell us that You rested on the seventh day.  Why the hell didn’t you spend a bit of time considering our need for compassion?

     It is a great scene.  Robin hurls invectives and laments at God, and the whole time he is standing on the edge of a cliff.  In the end, he tells God He’s not worth the jump.  He turns to head back to his medical bag and sees the butterfly.  A butterfly, complete with all the imagery associated with it, has landed on his medical bag.  As he approaches the bag, the butterfly flies to Patch, and Patch continues his fight to change the system of medicine, his dean, and even the need to wear pants under a graduation robe.

     I can tell by the rumor that many of you have seen the movie.  It makes sense at Advent.  A doctor movie starring a famous Episcopalian.  And I totally forgot about it until last night.  But that movie provides a lighter entry into the dark emotions that provoke laments.  And we have lots of reasons to lament.  A pandemic has swept across the world.  Death has followed in ints wake.  Bankruptcies from medical bills are yet to be determined.  Economic ruin has followed in its wake.  Heck, I think we have served about 5000 individuals through our food pantry since this all began, and we are just across the border from the modern Garden of Eden that is known as Brentwood.  How bad has it been in the so-called “undesirable” neighborhoods?

     In case you missed it, there’s been a number of protests and riots around the country as the result of the actions of an abusive police officer, as if we cannot be or do not know abusive folks outside a uniform.  One of their angers or triggers is how everyone hates them right now, how people are flicking them off or cursing them because of an asshole in Minneapolis, but they know those same jerks will expect them to answer 911, to lay down their life for them in the event of an armed burglar or other emergency.  Thankfully, most of those officers with whom I work are Christians.  I get to point out their share of Christ’s ministry.  He knows what it is like to be rejected.  He knows what it is like to be abandoned and betrayed by those whom He came to save.  So, I invite them to lament and rant and rail AND to remember Whom they truly serve.

     Sure enough, I saw headlines this morning that people in cities are calling on police to do their jobs.  Too many senseless killing.  Too many thefts.  It’s almost as if people don’t understand that, absent the police, bad people will do bad things.

     The good side of the protests, though, has been the address of systemic racism in our midst.  People are talking about education, prison, criminal justice, and others parts of our life that we white folks take for granted but that PoC have no such luxury.

     Speaking of PoC, our friends who are PoC are exhausted and fearful and all kinds of unsatisfied emotions.  We are wearing them out asking them to share their stories.  Do we really want to know?  How will we respond to their stories?  What will we think about them in light of those stories?  And will we forget about this in a week or a month like we have every time in the past?  Do we really care about them?  Do we really love them and want a better life for them?  Or are they just the woke cause of the day?

     Think we have cause for lament?  Do you think that maybe God knew what He was doing when He caused laments to be written, edited, and preserved for our understanding?

     In one of my non-Advent groups this week, I brought up the idea of a lament.  I was surprised at how steeped the “Christian” culture was against lament.  Brian, sufferings are God’s way of letting us prove ourselves worthy of His grace?  Brian, God is disappointed in us if we complain.  This is all part of His plan.  Brian, it is a sin to complain about suffering.  NO!  Absolutely not!  If there is a sin in that conversation, it is the idea that God does not want us coming to Him with our hurts, our fears, our booboos, our injustices, our “it’s not fair!’s”.  I get that folks are taught that in many churches, but look at our lesson from Jeremiah today.

     To place this in context, Jeremiah was a prophet during an interesting geo-political time in the world.  I saw that as an observer 2600-2700 years later.  Assyria was on the fall.  Babylon was ascending.  Egypt still thought it mattered.  In some ways, the kings in Jerusalem tried to play sides off against one another rather than obey God.  It was like they thought they knew better than God.  One of Jeremiah’s messages was that the people and leadership needed to return to God.  Their willingness to repent and return would be similar to the willingness of our leaders and most of our neighbors.

     Jeremiah’s pain, though, is not limited to geo-political considerations.  In fact, he will later go about with a yoke as a visible sign that Israel will be enslaved by Babylon and carried off into Exile, but that is another reading and another sermon.  No, aside from the personal sense of failure that everyone is ignoring his warning from God, Jeremiah has just been humiliated, and each of you should give thanks to God that such humiliations are no longer allowed!

     If you turn back to the beginning of the chapter, you learn that Jeremiah has been punished in the stocks by Pashhur, the assistant chief priest of the Temple.  His crime?  Jeremiah has prophesied that for its disobedience, Judah will be carried off into slavery.  They will be utterly defeated, abandoned by Yahweh.  How disobedient is Judah?  The prophet is ignored and mocked by the king and publicly beaten and scourged by the priest!

     We do not live in a shame culture like Jeremiah did, but we certainly understand some of his mindset.  How many of us publicly tell people we are Christians now?  Fifty years ago, you may have gotten some advantage in the Bible Belt, but then everyone claimed to be Christian, too, and received those same advantages.  But now?  Now, many of us whisper it.  We may answer a question, if it is put to us by someone we know and love and trust, but who really wants to be the “Jesus freak” at work, at the club, or in our friends’ circle?  My guess is that some of you gathered here and online today have strong opinions about those headwinds challenging our country, but how many are willing to tell people the source of those solutions?  See, you know Jeremiah’s mindset and emotional state far better than you ever thought!

     Pashhur has just released Jeremiah in an act of kindness.  No doubt he expected Jeremiah to be grateful and to have learned his lesson after the stocks and 39 lashes.  God, of course, cares not at all for such things as human beings.  God instructs Jeremiah to prophesy that He has changed Pashhur’s name.  What meant peaceful or ease or contentment will now mean surrounded by terror, in God’s eyes.  Pashhur, for his insult of the prophet and of God, will be carried off into slavery into Babylon.  There he will die.  

     How would you like to be Jeremiah?  How do you think that message went over?  Predictably, Jerusalem ignores the prophet.  Jeremiah, for his part, is fed up with it.  I do all that You ask, Lord, and what do I have to show for it?  Where’s my glory?  Where’s my respect?  Where’s my peace?  You have seduced me.  You have tricked me.  I try to stay silent but Your words cannot be contained!

     Ever found yourself arguing with God about His faithfulness?  Ever found yourself wondering if He cares?  Ever found yourself on the verge of thinking all of this is some kind of wishful, but sadistic, thinking?  You are not alone!  My guess is that far more of God’s people have felt that way at times than have not.  This idea that things are always hunk dory for us is a flat out lie, likely started by the Deceiver as a way to help us stumble.  Ever raged at God because he failed to save or cure a loved one?  Ever held your fist to that imaginary bearded figure in the sky, shook it, and demanded He show Himself to you and tell you why you are crazy to believe all this?  Ever worried that somehow you were the special one whose hairs are not number and who is not worth spit, let alone a pigeon?  Ever found yourself obedient to God and forced to suffer?

     I am here today, my brothers and sisters, to remind you that such cries and complaints and anger are not new to God’s people.  I am here today, my friends, to remind you that such frustrations and doubts are not sins.  They are part and parcel of what it means to be cross bearers in a world that rejects the Cross.  They are the normal experiences for those who know that the stakes and platitudes of this world are vain and empty, that only the promises of God are true, and lasting, and good.  I am here to remind each of us today, myself included, that we share in that prophetic ministry and suffering precisely because we are His sons and daughters!  We walk our Calvaries because He showed us the way, and we trust that, like Paul says today, because we share in His death we will share in His Resurrection and redemption.

     Our path, my friends, is not for the faint of heart or the weak.  It requires strength and determination and perseverance and abundant grace.  But is the path that God uses most often to reach the world around us.  Who better to minister to those suffering from addiction than those who have been freed from their addiction to sin?  Who better to minister to those enslaved by the “ism’s” of the world, than those whose chains to sin have been shattered on the Cross of Christ Jesus?  Who better to teach a world full of fear and hate and distrust than those who know the true cost of love, who are willing to share it, and who know that even these sufferings can be redeemed?

      A couple folks at early church complained I went a bit dark today.  I spoke of suicide and addiction and doubt and fury and pain and suffering and those things which the world thinks us incapable of understanding or aware.  I get it.  But I also hope you heard the promise and hope that God has lavished on all His people.  One day, all this nonsense will pass.  One glorious day, all this hurt and pain and rage will be like that strawberry or splinter of your youth—not even tear provoking!  How glorious must that calling be for those hurts and pains and angers and frustration to be thought of in such a light?!

     For now, though, we are like Jeremiah freed from the stocks of sin!  It is our responsibility—neigh, it is our privilege—to remind those around us that it precisely for all these consequences of sin that He came down from heaven, became sin, and died to sin, that each one of us, indeed all humanity, might have the chance to bask in His love and affection for all eternity!  That’s a message for pondering not just on Father’s Day, but every day!

In His Peace,

Brian†

Who are you?

     A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I used to be able to watch a lot of television.  Then I became a priest and my viewing dropped significantly!  But one of my favorite shows at the time was CSI: Miami.  I know it’s hard to keep all the CSI’s straight nowadays, but this was only the second one.  Only the original set in Vegas and this one existed at the time.  I got a kick out of it because the show opened with the lyrics made popular by Pete Townshend and The Who and Horatio Caine, played by David Caruso, fiddling with his sunglasses.  I guess the nice thing about there being few kids around is that there are no little elbows asking mommy or daddy who The Who is.

     I bring it up because at my church in Ohio, then, I thought that would be a cool sermon.  Who are you?  I’d look like the cool preacher with a Bible in one hand and Vinyl LP in the other.  Unfortunately for me, we were doing the history tract that year, so I did not get to preach that sermon.  But here we are, fifteen years later, and it popped back into my head.  Maybe it’s a Holy Spirit thing?  Maybe I’m just tired from all that is happening in the world?

     Our story from Exodus today begins after the Exodus.  Just to remind us all, Israel has been enslaved.  A Pharaoh who did not know Joseph enslaved his family.  Now, all the descendants of Jacob and those who went down into Egypt after Joseph’s big reveal, finally have been freed from that slavery.  Keep in mind, Scripture tells us that they cried out to God in their misery.  For generations.  Now, Moses and the burning bush has happened.  The parting of the Red Sea has happened.  Everyone here has seen Charlton Heston’s version of this, right?  This takes place at the end of that narrative.

     Israel has been led by Moses to Mount Sinai.  There, Moses has gone up the mountain to be told by God that He has a message for Israel: You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to Myself.  Now therefore, if you obey My voice and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession out of all the peoples.  Indeed, the whole earth is Mine, but you shall be for Me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.

     It is a glorious message.  It is every bit as full of good news glad tidings as the angels’ message regarding the birth of Jesus.  God, the Creator of all that is, seen and unseen, has chosen them to be His people.  Now, to be clear, Israel has a choice.  They can choose to obey God and the instructions He will give them, what you and I call the torah, or they can reject His words.  Before they make their decision, though, He reminds them of what He has does for them.  He has defeated Egypt.  He has eliminated the Egyptian army as a threat.  He has fed them.  He has watered them.  He has protected them from the heat of the sun by day and from the cool of the night.  No one has been lost.  The little ones, the slower of pace, and the aged – all have been delivered to this holy mountain.  In the words of the night in Indiana Jones, they must choose wisely.

     I remind us of these words this morning because you and I are faced with the same choice.  We live in a world that wants to enslave us to productivity or good enough or social wokeness.  We live in a world that fights hard to suppress the truth that God has revealed to human Beings.  At some point, most of us gathered together this morning made a decision to listen to God’s words, to do as He taught, and, it’s not mentioned nearly enough, to pick up our crosses of responsibility and bear them in the world around us, trusting that He will redeem our suffering just as He redeemed our Lord’s.  We are, to use the words of St. Paul, the new Israel.  We are those who have been grafted into the vine by the work and person and faith of Christ Jesus.  We are the ones who wrestle with God and His instruction.

     Out there, it can feel overwhelming.  Out there, we can feel insignificant and impotent.  Anyone here have the cure to police brutality?  Anyone here have the cure for rioting and destruction?  Anyone here have the solution to our education system?  Our school to prison system?  Anyone have the cure to COVID or cancer or any number of other diseases?  Anyone here know have the cure for death?

     Y’all are chuckling, but those are all fears out there right now.  And I am really only scratching the surface.  Did you know that these last couple weeks since we opened, I have had to talk once or twice about racism?  Yes, I know, many of you have had conversations with me.  At least you are paying attention and recognizing sarcasm.  How hard is a simple thing such as racism?

     You and I are professed Christians.  We claimed, by virtue of our baptism, that we would try to love God with everything and to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Remember that?  Good.  It should be antithetical to our baptism that we could be racist.  If we truly accept God’s teaching that everyone is stamped in His image, and we choose to hate someone just because of their image, Whom are we truly hating?  There really is no place for it in the Church or in the parish.  But, how many of us white folks get all jumbled up inside when we hear a person of color talking about racism or systemic racism?  How many of us get defensive and argue we would never do that and miss the oppression our brothers and sisters face each day?  It’s challenging, isn’t it?

     But you only know half the story.  I have done everything but browbeat minorities in this community to share their daily experiences with us.  We, we meaning white folk, cannot really understand why people in the world are so angry, so hell bent on destruction, until we begin to empathize with their suffering.  Our minority members have thanked me for talking about it in the open during the sermon, but when I have suggested that they share with you their fears to go out after dark for an ice cream, the time some asshole spit on them at the grocery store, the time a teacher told their child they would be unable to aster a hard subject like math or science because of their appearance, how they are treated if they are pulled over, and the list goes on and on, I get the “Whoa, Father, no way.  I doubt want my friends at Advent to think I’m complaining or unhappy with my life or . . .”  Some here want to learn, some here want to be allies, and yet those victimized by micro-aggressions are unwilling to share.  And here’s the kicker, we are the safe place.  The Church is meant to be sanctuary.  If they can’t talk about it here with us, where can they?  And if their neighbors and friends don’t know God, where are they to go to talk about the injustices they face?  It is no wonder we feel so small and up to the task . . . and this is just one issue facing us today!  One!

     So, it’s good to be reminded of the words of our Lord today.  If you obey My voice and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession out of all the peoples.  Indeed, the whole earth is Mine, but you shall be for Me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.  Our calling is one of relationship.  We are called into relationship by our Father in heaven and into relationship with one another.  We gather here each week to celebrate what God has done for us, to remind ourselves of His promise to redeem our sufferings, and to remind ourselves who we are.  Each one of us gather here this morning, who has been baptized into our Lord’s death and Resurrection, is a full member of that priestly kingdom and holy nation, with all the rights and privileges and responsibilities that come with it.  By virtue of our baptism, we can no more countenance injustice than we can accept blasphemy; we can no more hide from the problems in the world than we can hide from our Lord; we can no more think ourselves impotent and worthless than we can see those in the world not adored and loved by our Father in heaven!  And it is He, it is He who sends us into the world to bear witness to His love, His mercy, and His power!

     The whole earth is His, but we are His treasured people.  You and you and you and you and me – we are His treasured people, His priests, His holy nation.  Sometimes, in the midst of the cares and the concerns of the world, it is a truth we forget.  Sometimes, in the cacophony of the voices of His and our enemies, it is a message that is drowned out.  We would do well on those dates when we encounter injustice, we would do well on those days when we encounter suffering and sorrow, we would do well on those days when we sit down to yet another rerun of o CSI program on television to ask ourselves that question, Who am I?  And to answer ourselves as He has answered for us.  I and we are a treasured possession, a kingdom of priests, a holy nation, princesses and princes of the King of Kings and Lord of lords, and in His power, in His name, and in His love, we can accomplish all that He purposes for us and for those around us!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

On the Trinity . . . and its importance to our work in the world!

     It is that wonderful feast day where rectors force assistants and seminarians to preach.  As a result, or at least a part of the result, congregations learn not to value the “doctrine” we celebrate today, are often confused, and, in many cases, get a healthy dose of heresy added to their menu.  I used doctrine in air quotes because that is how the Church defines the day and how the secular world refers to the uniqueness of the feast.  A quick read would teach all of us that this is the only Sunday during the Church year where we celebrate a doctrine rather than an individual’s witness or specific act, or set of acts, of our Lord Christ.  I see the nods.  The problem, of course, is that we are not celebrating a doctrine.  We are celebrating a reality to which all of us, all of us baptized Christians, are called to witness.  Our Sacraments, our rites, and our theology are all informed by the revelation that God is Father, God is Son, and God is Holy Spirit.

     It is a day, of course, where we try to rationally explain a mystery.  How many of us have sat through sliced apples or weird Father’s Day examples of the Trinity?  I cannot see the virtual hands, but I’m sure we have all endured some . . . challenging sermons that did their best to explain the underlying doctrine.  The problem, of course, is that, on top of the fact that it is a revealed holy mystery and we will never fully grasp it this side of the grave, such sermons fail to address the “why” God revealed Himself to us as three persons in one unity and generally devolve into one or more heresies.

     Oh, I see by the shifts in the pews I have your attention now.  Yes, this will be a bit different for you.  And that is a shame.  If we as preachers are not addressing the why’s and “what does it mean to/for me” questions, we are not doing our jobs.  With all apologies to Jim and his evil twin Robert, we spend a great deal of time in Wrestling with Faith discussing the “what is it” questions of the Trinity.  You might say it’s one of our on-going discussions.

     One of the complaints from those who really struggle with the what is the idea it’s unnecessary.  Why do we insist on the Trinity?  It’s too hard to understand, let alone explain to others.  On more than one occasion Jim has suggested that we drop it.  I say that cognizant that I think his heart is in the right place.  It is difficult to understand, harder to explain, and, at least in the minds of some, unnecessary.  By way of educating us a bit, I have included in the Orders of Worship this week a copy of the Athanasian Creed.

     By way history, y’all should know that the Athanasius Creed is the third Creed in our church.  For those of you who are easily bored by my sermons, it’s there in the historical documents.  What?  You don’t think I used to get bored by bad sermons?  Interestingly, a liturgy and worship committee, our first actually, led by Bishop Seabury—Oooh!  I see the lights coming on!—thought it far too long to be used in worship.  Without so much as a by-your-leave to Archbishop Thomas Becket, who instituted its use way back in 1100AD, and over the objections of Bishop Seabury, our Liturgy & Worship Committee jettisoned its authorized use in the Episcopal Church.

     I learned that the hard way this week.  As I was studying to help formulate a sermon, I came across the facts that the Athanasius Creed has been used by the Church in worship, particularly on feasts that focus on the Holy Trinity, for close to fourteen centuries.  The Episcopal Church is one of the Anglican churches that does not allow its use in worship.  I had this wonderful idea for a service where I would have us recite the creed in your handout and spend some moments in silent prayer or meditation letting the words speak to us.  Bishop John, of course, believes he is bound by the rubrics of the Prayer Book.  His thought is that if we are not praying the same, we are not believing the same.  Since the creed is not authorized for principal worship, he cannot grant permission.

     Now, I am not busting on the bishop or our church today.  John is doing his job to conserve the church and the idea that we use a Book of COMMON Prayer to shape and define our worship.  And, at the national level, many of us who attend Advent today remember the great fights of the Zebra book and the adoption of the 1979 BCP.  One of the minor controversies, compared to others, was the re-inclusion of the Athanasian Creed.  From the late 18th century until the 1979 BCP, the Creed was not acknowledged in our church.  So we have come a long way in a couple centuries.  We re-discovered what most of our Anglican brothers and sisters and other Western Christians never forgot.  

     As you can all read from the text today, the Athanasius Creed is rather long.  It is four pages, for those of you worshipping from home without a PDF.  I included a couple paragraphs about his history, its formulation, and its purpose.  As I not, it was meant to help differentiate Christians from Arians, but its construction helped defend against a number of other heresies over the centuries, even the heresy of Nestorianism with which I teased our seminarian Zach a couple weeks ago and some of you thought I made up!  The Creed is explicit both in what it says it is and what it says it is not.  I commend it, of course, to your prayerful study this week.

     What the Creed reveals, what all three Creed reveal, of course, is that doctrine which you and I call the doctrine of the Trinity.  I hate that word choice because it implies that it is an intellectual assent or understanding.  The Trinity is not something to which human beings could reason.  The Trinity is not something that we apprehend in its entirety and say “oh, that, of course I understand and accept it.”  The Trinity is not something that smarter theologians have failed to consider and not retained just because they were lazy or superstitious or whatever.  Nothing of God is ever just theoretical.  His truths lead to consequences of behavior and action on our part.  So, what does it mean for us, living in 21st century Nashville, that the Trinity is true.

     I said a couple minutes ago that the Trinity informs our Sacraments, or if you want to be good little Anglicans, our Sacraments and Rites.  The Trinity teaches us about love, about grace, and about community.  Understand, I could go on and on and on about each of the Sacraments and Rites of our church, but I want my sermon to be shorter than the Creed that is often used to celebrate this day.  When we gather at the altar, we first remind ourselves about the why of creation.  Heck, we heard today the bulk of the beginning of Genesis.  Why did the Father create us?  In Your infinite love You made us for Yourself.  Sound familiar?  Of course it does.  It is the part of the Eucharist that follows the sanctus.  Each and every time we gather and celebrate the Eucharist, we remind ourselves that God created us.

     And that is not an intellectual truth.  That claim is a fundamental reminder to each one of us gathered that the Creator of heaven and earth, the Maker of all that is, seen and unseen, thought His creation needed a you and a me.  We don’t explore that reminder as we ought to outside pastoral care conversations.  But one of my little jobs is to remind you that God thought the world needed you.  We speak in terms of nepes and souls and those distinguishing characteristics which God combined in you to make you.  Some of us have dashes of artistry; others have a main course.  Some of us have funny senses of humor; and many of us think we have a sense of humor.  Some of us were gifted with particular insights; and some of us have frustrating blind spots.  We are each unique, but we know God created each one of us as a masterpiece, as mortal beings fashioned to point the way to Him.  Our job was to glorify Him in everything we did, but we rebelled.  We sinned.  Somewhere along the way, we rejected or forgot our calling.  So what did God do?

     You, in Your mercy, sent Jesus Christ, Your only and eternal Son, to share our human nature, to live and die as one of us, to reconcile us to You, the God and Father of all.  God could have, in all righteous indignation, left us to wallow in our sins.  There is no way we could have reconciled ourselves to Him.  What could we have offered Him in exchange for all our sins against Him and our neighbors?  It took a perfect offering.  It took Him coming down from heaven and assuming our nature.  Jesus was fully human.  We have a season which reminds us of that fact.  He suffered temptations just we suffer temptations.  We have another season when we remind ourselves of that truth.  And make no mistake, His temptations were even more diabolical than our own.  If You are the Son of God, come down . . .

     But in His Incarnation and work we are revealed God’s heart.  God is a forgiving God.  Yes, God is a just God, and His justice cannot overlook sins; but He makes it possible for us to be reconciled to Him by our faith in Him and His actions.  We are not reconciled by our work.  We are not reconciled by anything intrinsic to us.  He does the work of making it possible for us to be restored to Him and to one another.  More in that, of course, in a minute.

     Lastly, His redeeming work makes it possible for us to receive faithfully this pledge of our inheritance, to stand before Him, and to go into the world in pace to love and serve Him in those whom we encounter.  We gather here to remind ourselves of His redeeming work in history, to remind ourselves of His redeeming work in our lives, to prepare ourselves, to encourage ourselves to do that work out there.  We gather in community not just because He calls us to gather in community, but because we recognize in the Trinity that community is important to God, that community is reflective of God’s relationship in the Trinity.

     Any arguments?  I know I have skipped across our Eucharist and have ignored Baptism and the other Rites, but hopefully you see God’s love, God’s grace, and God’s community in those as well.  It is certainly easy in baptism and confirmation, in marriage, in confession and absolution.  And even in a funeral, we remind ourselves that our loved one is passing into glory, that their relationship with God and with us is changed, but not over.  They have received their inheritance for which this meal is a simple pledge and promise.

     I am so glad I cannot see the computer screen.  Some of your faces range from confusion to “I’ve never thought about this like that before,” and everyone has a mask to hide the entirety of their expressions.  As always, feel free to discuss this in the days and weeks ahead, if you find yourself struggling with my touch stones this morning.

     So, if the Trinity underlies everything God reveals to us and underlies our Sacraments and Rites, it must have a good practical application, right?  My answer is that the practical application is not necessarily for our benefit, though we do, but rather for the world, which knows Him not nor acknowledges His claim on them.

     Our reading from Corinthians is instructive, even if our work is not within the church.  I have touched on Corinth on several times.  Corinth was founded by a legion granted citizenship and sent to the east to guard the frontier of the empire by the Emperor Julius, I think it was.  We take citizenship for granted in modern America, but experts estimate that fewer than 100,000 individuals were citizens of Rome at its height.  The emperor shrewdly recognized that his former troops would be good fighters and unwavering allies, politically and militarily, if anyone thought to conquer Rome.  Its location on the isthmus caused industrious people to start a portage industry.  The isthmus was just over 3 miles across, but, by porting across, transporters could save 3 weeks to a month of sailing time, never mind avoid the risks of encountering storms at sea.  As a result, restaurants, pubs, hotels, and other businesses sprung up.  Corinth was, by all accounts, a thriving town, a privileged town.

     That wealth and privilege infected the church.  We know from our first letter that the early church in Corinth was not the best witness to the grace and love and community of God.  One leader was sleeping with his mom.  It may have really been what we call a step-mom, but Paul notes it was so bad that even the Romans, Romans who were not known to squeamish about their sexual practices, found it revolting and disgusting.  The rich at the church in Corinth had bastardized the agape meal.  They feasted as if they were at a Roman meal.  To us, such sounds good.  Instead of eating a wafer and a sip of wine, maybe they were having roasts, and vegetables, and glasses of wine, and desserts?!  True, they were, but that was not the problem.  No, the rich ate, and ate lavishly, while the poor went hungry among them.  In fact, the rich ate until they threw up, and then they ate more.  It was considered a sign of wealth and refinement to eat until you puked.  And the rich were doing that in the midst of their brothers and sisters in Christ who could not afford to eat, or could afford to eat only a small meal.  Think that caused some division?

     The church in Corinth allowed its social attitudes to infect the church.  They ranked the gifts of the Holy Spirit.  Paul himself had taught them that whatever gifts they needed would be present in the body because of the promises of God and the coming of the Holy Spirit.  The Corinthians, though, in typical Roman fashion, decided to rank and esteem certain gifts, making those gifted with less esteemed gifts feel less loved, less a part of the community.  Heck, Corinthians even took to bragging about who baptized them.  They ranked their clergy and decided that those baptized by the “better” clergy were, as a consequence, better Christians than those baptized by “lesser clergy.  You are laughing, but Paul, you know, the Apostle who met Jesus on the road to Damascus, Paul, often called the Apostle to the Gentiles, often thought of as more responsible for the spread of Christianity than Jesus by the secular world and by some in the Church, gives thanks in writing that he did not baptize any of them!

     What does Corinth have to do with Nashville?  In one sense, they are entirely different.  Paul writes a church that claims to be Christian, that claims to want to follow Jesus as Lord.  Nashville?  Not so much, though there are some who want to claim we are a Christian nation; there are likely few who would describe Nashville as Christian.  But the similarities are really unavoidable.  We live in a town that is experiencing protests and riots.  We live in a town where some are esteemed more highly than others, with entertainers and professional athletes on one end of the scale and, perhaps, law enforcement on the other, at least in these times.  Like Corinth, we seem to be cosmopolitan, which causes certain strains.  The country is in the middle of describing a great divide between blacks and whites right now, but we in Nashville find ourselves settled with something like 86 ethnicities.  Poverty plagues us as a city.  We may not recognize it yet, but those who work the service jobs upon which so many depend cannot afford housing in our community.  Our education system?  It could be significantly better.  Our criminal justice system?  Heck, we prayed and lobbied politicians for a death row inmate, an Episcopalian by faith, whom prosecutors admit was prosecuted and sentenced unjustly.  Imagine what is going on in poorer communities.  Less connected communities.  Our list could go on and on and on.  Make no mistake, I’d rather be planted here than anywhere else, but we have issues and subscriptions that need to be addressed.  Most of us are left wondering where the answer is to be found.

     Thankfully and mercifully, we know where the answers are to be found.  We live in a country that strives, yes it fails, but it strives, to uphold God-given inalienable rights.  We live in a country that purports to accept that human beings are equal.  That understanding, of course, is rooted in the revelation we call the Trinity.  It is hard to grind down another human being when we remember that they, like us, were created by the Father and gifted by Him traits and characteristics unique to them and pleasing in His eyes.  Just as we were created in this vast cosmos because God thought creation needed us, so too, He thought, creation needed them.  If we believe that, if we have internalized or inwardly digested it, can we ever accept others lording over others?  Can we ever accept a status quo that is not fair to everyone?  Heck, can we ever forget that our Lord came in humility?  That He was born in a backwater town of a backwater province?  That He demanded none of the adulation, worship, or service that was rightfully His to demand of us, His creation?  Can we ever forget that it was His love for us which caused Him by force of will to hang and die on that Cross for our sakes?  Even when we tempted Him to come down, if He was truly the Son of God?

     I suspect for some of us, myself included, this will be a long summer.  This year, we will be focused on the writings of the prophets during green season.  Three years ago, we chose the historical readings.  So, even as our country is dealing with the pain and hurt and emotional baggage of the simple fact that we have not done justice for all, the prophets themselves will be crying out to us God’s simple demand that we walk in humility and do justice, just as did our Lord.

     All of that teaching, of course, is rooted in the Trinity.  It is through our feeble grasps of the Trinity that you and I begin to see, however shadowy or dimly, the importance that God places on love, on mercy, and on community.  Just as He has modeled those three characteristics for us simply by virtue of His being, you and I are called to model to the world love, mercy, and community.  Make no mistake, we will make mistakes.  But that is one of His calls on our lives.  Look around you.  Listen to those around you.  They have forgotten who they are.  Those around us have forgotten the simple truth that we were each fashioned by Him, gifted by Him, made unique by Him!  They have forgotten that it was the Creator of all that is that caused them to be, that causes them to continue by His will!  Like us, they are loved deeply by their Father in heaven.  So deeply, in fact, that He came down from heaven to rescue them and us when none of us could save ourselves.  He could have left us and them wallowing in the consequences of our and their sin, but that love compelled Him to act mercifully.  True, there could be no shortcuts.  True, He could not pretend our and their sin did not exist.  But He came down!  He willed Himself to walk that rejected path that led to Calvary!  He modeled what He values and is!  Humble.  And for His humility and faithful obedience, you and I and they were given an opportunity to be restored to God.  And to serve God.

     We have each experienced that love and that mercy offered by the Trinity, and now we understand ourselves called into community.  We gather at Advent not because our liturgy is the best or because the people are the most popular or the smartest or best looking, though those descriptions may be true.  We gather because He calls us together to serve Him in the world around us.  We sing, we pray, we are taught, we struggle with our doubts, we eat, and we drink.  And it is in the midst of this gathering, of this community, where we meet Jesus and begin to understand the breadth and depth of His promises and love, not just for us, but for those out there who have forgotten Him or never heard of Him.  

     It is in the midst of this community, and others like it, where we can have meaningful conversations, share mournful and joyful experiences, and do the hard work of discerning God’s call on His people.  It is impossible in this community, a community that is rooted in the call and teaching of God, to treat another as anything but equal.  It is impossible in this community, where we remind ourselves of our sins, and of His cost to forgive us, to look down on others as beneath us.  It is impossible in this community not to want to walk softly and do justice, just as did our Lord Christ when He came among us.

     And, reassured by His words, soothed by the liturgy, harangued and encouraged by our clergy, we are sent back out into the world to tell people God loves them, to tell people they can be forgiven for all those “unlovable” things they have done in their lives, and to invite them into the community that reflects His love and mercy, that they, too, might become His heralds and inviters.

     Brothers and sisters, the world needs the reality of the Trinity today.  The world needs to know that there is a better way, that they truly are loved, that even those who have acted wrongly can be forgiven by God and their neighbor.  In truth, my friends, the world needs our witness to the Trinity more than ever.  The world needs to know they are loved.  The world needs to know they can be forgiven.  The world needs to be reminded that we are in this together for His purposes, not our own.  How we model that may differ significantly.  Some of us may engage in heartfelt conversations.  Some may be called to engage in the protests.  Some of us may have the ear of our elected leaders and be able to speak God’s wisdom into their deliberations.  Heck, one or two of us may be called to stand for election.  The great news, the Gospel news, my friends, is that success is not up to us, only faithful obedience.  But if we strive to live as if we believe the Trinity and the teachings which flow from our understanding of God thanks to His revelation are true, He promises that we will be vindicated for our willingness to follow.  We will be vindicated for our wise choice and faithfulness, and we will dive even deeper into that amazing relationship into which He calls every single human being.

In Christ Peace,

Brian†

The wilderness and our witness . . .

     As we sped to this weekend and our resumption of public worship for the first time in what, 10 or 11 weeks, I was excited to learn it going to be on the Feast of Pentecost.  It would have been nice to have had a full blown Easter celebration when this all first began, but now we have learned and unlearned and learned more about the disease.  Medical experts tell us we should not really gather, as the close confines and proximity to one another increases the chances of the church becoming a hot spot for new infections.  Politicians have used the gathering of the Church as a bullet point in their re-election efforts.  Some want us to obey the law of the land; others want us to gather and pray to God to protect and deliver the country.  We cannot safely share the Easter feast in the Parish Hall.  The Easter egg hunt would seem a bit out of place.  All those trappings we associate with Easter around here, I think, would have led us to lament the new normal.  So I was happy that public worship was resuming on the Feast of Pentecost.

     Notice, I have been careful not to say we re-opened.  Some pastors have used that language.  We have merely been forbidden from public worship events and big gatherings, but the work of the parish has continued.  As a parish, we have fed maybe 4000 people during the pandemic.  We have helped keep a number of families now facing unemployment and loss of all income alive for nearly three full months.  Those who have helped unload and load and distribute the food stuffs, the depends, the toothbrushes, the toilet paper, and everything else can testify just how important our work was and is to those most hurting around us.  Feeding in God’s name.  That’s not a closed church.

     I wish more of you could have been around here or that church would have opened when the trees and bushes and flowers were in full bloom.  A few Adventers have made it over during the pandemic, but most have missed the thank you’s from those who came here to walk on level ground, who brought their children to play on the playground, who brought their children to teach them to ride bicycles, or who just sat on the courtyard bench seeking the peace that passes all understanding in the midst of a pandemic and resulting economic upheaval that has left us all feeling anything but calm.  Again and again I was thanked for giving folks a safe space for those activities, for planting beautiful flowers and trees that help them see the promises of God in the hope of spring growth.  A few even contributed money to help feed the hungry as they learned about that ministry or for things less prosaic like mowing and trimming the grounds.  Tending to our garden patches in the wildernesses.  That is not a closed church.

     Of course, some of you would like to hope that I have had a good rest these last weeks.  Unfortunately for me, someone has had to be here when folks needed food, to arrange the various online services during the week, to learn how to be a bit of a producer, to handle the visitor after visitor who had been forced to face the questions of their own mortality because of this pandemic, and to do the best I could, mostly over the phone, for Adventers who had their own pastoral care needs, which ranged from fears of isolation to “I’m going to kill those with whom I am locked down with” because of the pandemic; who had fears about treating one illness or one injury for fear of contracting a worse one; who worried about which doctor to believe or whether our government was intentionally lying to us.  No, Coronatide has proven exhausting for come clergy, myself included.  This Sunday represented an opportunity to get back to normal, to resume public worship, and to fellowship with one another, even if to a limited degree, to make sure we were mostly ok.

     Then the events of Memorial Day happened.  Then we all watched in, what, dumbfounded horror(?), as an officer casually knelt on the neck of a counterfeiter(?) and snuffed the life out of him.  Most of my pastoral conversations the first couple days were with non-Adventers.  My minority friends demanded to know where God was in the midst of THAT.  My law enforcement friends were worried they’d be painted with the same brush as has happened in every case of police brutality, from their perspective.  As the protests and riots began, conversations got longer and more in depth, but still few Adventers.  Then the riots came to Nashville.  Then it was no longer “their” problem but “our” problem.  I knew how bad it must be on Saturday when I came down to church to work and had an officer wanting to speak to me for just a minute.

     Part of your ministry at Advent is making clergy available.  Your support of me makes it possible for folks in our community to find a clergy person who will talk with people about God and life and whatever struggles they are having.  Canon Fred and Captain H, I think, did their best to get officers to trust me, but these things take time.  I had met this officer, actually I met several officers in the days and weeks that followed, after a suicide up at the bridge by Wendy’s and the Hampton Inn.  He’s a normal guy like most of us; his job is just thanklessly demanding.  His worry.  His worry in the immediate aftermath of all this was how to keep from becoming like that officer.  Day in and day out he, and other metro officers, face the things in our community that we don’t want to believe exist.  In some sense, we treat them like we treat soldiers, just without all the love and support.  When they pull us for speeding, we bitch and threaten.  When they are slow to an accident, we gripe and complain.  Yet, here he was, worried he could become another video.

     By the end of our conversation, I knew my Pentecost message had to change.  No longer was I going to be able to give you time to lament the loss of the last 11 weeks.  No longer was I going to be able to give you hope, by sharing some of the great work that happened at this parish thanks to your prayers, your support, and, in some cases, your work and heavy lifting.  Heck, in the sermon I knew I needed to give, I was likely to suck the joy out of our renewed gathering.  Such, though, is my calling.  It is my responsibility to disciple you in the faith, to encourage you to pattern your lives after our Lord’s, and to remind you that long before we receive our glorious and eternal reward as first born sons and daughters of the Creator of all that is, seen and unseen, we have so much work to do.

     Our story from Acts today is familiar.  In some sense, it is probably too familiar.  The apostles and disciples have been waiting as instructed in Jerusalem for the coming of the Holy Spirit.  On this day in Acts, the Holy Spirit comes in power.  Flames appear over the heads of the disciples, and they begin speaking in all the Mediterranean languages.  The crowd is stunned.  Our translators say “amazed,” “bewildered,” “astonished” and other such adjectives.  The experience so stuns the audience that they must grasp for a reason, a reason that makes no sense.  These Galileans must be drunk, that’s how this is happening.

     Pick a group that you mock constantly.  Pick a town or state that serves as the butt of your jokes about education, expertise, good manners, dependable workers, whatever.  Imagine people from that town impressing you.  That’s what’s happening in our scene.  The people from the backwater part of the backwater province are speaking like well educated individuals in the languages of their hearers.  Got it?  Good.

     I talked a minute ago about the translators’ chosen adjectives and about our familiarity with the story.  When our translators use words like “amazed” and “bewildered” and “astonished,” we tame them.  By that we assign a positive motive or experience to them.  But those words in Greek carry a sense of fear or discombobulation with them, a sense of “this is not how this is supposed to happen.”  We treat the Pentecost experience as if it was a cool or expected experience of those who were present.  We rob it of some of the visceral emotional impact that it had on both the hearers and the speakers.

     Think of it in terms of “the fear of the Lord.”  How often do folks tell us that it was not really fear that people talked or wrote about, that it was more of a “healthy respect”?  Yet how does every single person in Scripture behave when confronted by God or His messengers?  They are terrified!  For humans to come into contact with a holy, righteous, other God is a fearful experience.  The root word in Greek is phobia.  Phobia is not a reasonable or healthy respect.  Our phobias terrify us.  And this terror is not condemned.  What does God or His messengers say to His or their audience?  Do not be afraid.  There’s no “you should not be afraid, you need only a healthy respect.”  No, it’s a recognition that the human response includes that unsatisfied emotion we call terror.

     Each of those words used to describe the emotional experience of the audience likewise contains an element of or strong suggestion of what you and I would call an unsatisfied or negative emotion, just like terror in “Fear of the Lord.”

     For those of us who are super Anglican in our way of thinking, CS Lewis captures this in his description of Aslan.  Aslan is a good lion, but he’s not a tame lion.  Good I see the laughing nods.

     Now, back to our consideration of others from that town or state or background we tend to ridicule.  Were they to begin acting in a matter that defied our stereotyped impression, how would we feel?  If we constantly joked about and looked down upon those from a rural Appalachia background, and then found them talking nuclear physics to us, what would be our reaction and discomfort?  If we thought of a neighborhood as being undesirable, but then found ourselves befriended by someone from that neighborhood, someone who extols the neighborhood, what would be our reaction and discomfort?  I could use far more specific examples, but I am hoping we understand what is happening in this passage.  To us, it is a glorious fulfillment of God’s promises to His people.  To those who witnessed the event, it was scary, pulling-the-rug-out-from-under-their-certainty, and worrisome.  What is happening?

     As I have shared in the last few weeks, our empowerment by the Holy Spirit is our proof of the Resurrection of Jesus.  Sometimes we gripe that we would like to stick our fingers and hands in Jesus’ wounds or see Him like the Apostles and disciples so that we could have their faith.  Our empowerment by the Holy Spirit, Pentecost, could not have occurred had Jesus stayed here.  You and I learn that He was raised from the dead by our ability to accomplish or say those things beyond us.  Hopefully, each one of you present in person and virtually have those moments in your life when, looking back on it, you know, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God saw you through it.  It may seem to pale by comparison to the stories of others, but I hope you have moments in your life when you experienced the power of the Holy Spirit.  If you did, you know He was raised from the dead!  He had to Ascend to the Father to make it possible for the Holy Spirit to come.

     As a result of His Ascension, it is left to us to herald God’s love, mercy, forgiveness, justice, and whatever else He calls us to herald in the world around us.  And make no mistake, our work is out there.  We gather here for training and teaching and encouraging and fellowship and feeding, but all of this is so we can be prepared to do the work He has given us to do in those places where we live, work, and play out there, in the wilderness.  And boy, has anyone noticed what is happening in the wilderness this week?  Has anyone noticed that God’s voice is ever more necessary?  Anyone else feel like our Diocesan Prayer, composed at a time when the only worry was a continent was on fire, was prophetic?

     Sitting here today, you may be worried that the world is unhinged, that the certainties of your life are far more transient that you wanted to believe, that we are streaming toward anarchy.  More importantly, you may be thinking you have nothing to offer as a solution to this mess.  If you find yourself agreeing with that statement, you are listening to the wrong voice!  By virtue of your baptism God has made a covenant with you!  He will be glorified in your life, and you will be glorified in Him for eternity, if you trust Him.  It’s a wonderful promise.  It’s an amazing opportunity.  But it comes with responsibility.

     You and I each know the root cause of all that we are seeing and hearing and experiencing in these riots and bullhorns screaming at each other.  It is sin.  So long as those around us are steeped in their sin, so long as they are led by the enemy of God to believe they can fix everything, including their own hearts, these efforts at reform are doomed to fail.  We know this!  We have experienced that truth ourselves!  We are witnesses!

     So, our first job is to point people to Christ Jesus, to point them to the One through Whom lasting transformation is possible.  Our first job is to teach others that they cannot save themselves, that they cannot fix the world themselves, and that they cannot fix others.  Sin is simply too powerful for humanity to overcome. . . on its own!

     But God offers them and us a lasting eternal relationship.  It is a relationship based on love and truth and mercy.  It is a relationship that bears all things and hopes all things because our relationship, however poorly, models the relationship of our Lord and the Father and means that we bear crosses and trust in God’s redemptive power, even as Jesus did almost 2000 years ago!

     We are called to give up the fear, the pain, the judgment, the need for revenge and trust that God will see those accounted by Christ’s offering on the Cross, and that, with our brothers and sisters in Him, we can begin to scratch out more of His kingdom on this, our island home.

     All of that, of course, brings us to our second responsibility: obedience.  If God is calling us to do something, we need only to obey.  Our only obligation to Him and to those around us is to trust Him.

     But, Brian, I can’t halt riots.  I can’t fix subtle systematic injustices.  I can’t fix all that is broken in the world.  No!  You cannot!  Only God can do those things.  But, for whatever mysterious reasons, God has chosen to work His redemptive power through frail, sinful human beings like ourselves.  He wants the world to recognize that it cannot fix itself; that true power is found only in Him; and that He gladly shares all He has with those whom He calls His own.

     Pentecost coming at this time in our life, both in terms of Coronatide and in terms of the civil unrest, was perfectly timed.  You and I are reminded, both by Scripture and by our bishop’s teaching, that nothing is the same after an encounter with the Holy Spirit.  Perspective and life both change.  Church will not function the way most of us would like.  Those forced to remain at home would likely love to be among us.  Those who have the gift of hospitality likely miss feeding us and sharing in those coffee hour conversations.  Touchy feely folks have had to give up hugs.  Things will be different.  But as I reminded us in pastoral letters and prior sermons, our business has remained the same, and we have seen God’s redemptive power in our midst.  We who self-identified as a country club seven or eight years ago are thought of by others as a church.  People in our neighborhood have asked, and followed through, if they could help in our mission!  Even in the midst of a shutdown, they see God at work in our grounds, in our pantry, and our faithfulness.

     But, as always, our job is not done.  Until He comes again it is our job to continue to show His mercy and love and redemptive power to a world that does not wish to see or hear.  In some sense, it is thankless.  In some sense, it may seem pointless.  But we serve a God Who promises that His Word never goes forth without purpose, Who promises each one of us that we are His beloved and that we will share in His glory.  And so we go.

     Brothers and sisters, the pain and the fear in the world is ever increasing.  Individually, neither you nor I could tackle the injustices perceived in the world.  But, precisely because of our work and because of our Lord, you and I are empowered to bring His grace and wisdom to those fears and pains.  This week alone, I have shared with some minorities what I have learned counseling law enforcement over the years, I have shared with law enforcement officers some of what I have learned from minorities over the years—and don’t get me started about my conversations with minority law enforcement officers.  Will lasting change come?  I don’t know.  Do I think those specific individuals would treat the other as created in God’s image were they to encounter one another in the wilderness?  I hope so.  I’ve no guarantee.  But that’s all I was given to do with them this week.

     Some of you are far more influential than you know.  Some of you have the ear of politicians in power.  Because you have contributed early in campaigns, politicians give ear to your voice.  Maybe God is calling you to call upon them to get serious about a specific reform?  Maybe you think schools need to be fixed?  Maybe you think prison reform is required?  Maybe you think police training needs to be reformed?  When I look around at us I see amazingly talented and well-respected individuals.  I see people who were excellent at running companies, educating students, researching, running numbers, and who knows what else.  I see people who have been forced to be courageous at times in the way they approach issues in their life.  I see people who have glorious failure in their background.  Most of all, I see the mystical Body of Christ when we gather.  I see the possibility that we can accomplish whatever He asks of us, as long as we trust Him and His Word and Example.  I see a congregation that longs for it to be on earth even as it is in heaven this day, that the world might know and turn to Him through Whom all things are possible.  I see a group of people who know the fears and hurts and pains among those groping in the wilderness and desire nothing more than to point them to His glorious light, that all might turned and be saved, and know themselves created indelibly and loved in ways we cannot fathom or understand.  I see a church that recognizes we are on a wilderness road not just for our diocese, but for the world around us!

     The world around us, my friends, is crazy.  A pandemic is sweeping the earth.  Economic shutdown is affecting everyone.  We have seen too many people treated like animals rather than the human beings we know them to be.  In some cases we have been stuck in close proximity with folks who drive us nuts; in other cases we have had to stay away from those whom we love dearly to keep them safe.  It is auspicious on this day that we remind ourselves that our work, the work of the Church, continues.  It is right that we remind ourselves that the beginning of peace on earth and good will toward all men begins in the life and work of Christ Jesus.  And it is right that we remind ourselves that we, just like those women and fishermen and tax collector and countless others saints through time, are those whom God has chosen to be His vessels of grace in the world around us!  Even better, is fitting that we are reminded that He will see us through, not because of our expertise or gifts, but because He is always working, redeeming, and sustaining the world.

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†