On Jim's words and life and faith . . .

      Are we safe for the illustration I told you, JoAnne?  Good!  On behalf of the Martin family, but especially JoAnne and his sons Andy and David, I would like to thank you for joining us today as we mourn Jim’s death and remind ourselves again of God’s promises to us.  I say again because we Adventers have lost a couple defining personalities or characters over the last few weeks in the deaths of Mary Clyde and Jim.  If you are not an Episcopalian, you might be surprised at the readings.  Truth be told, some Episcopalians might be surprised at the Gospel reading as it is not one of the suggested Gospel readings in our BCP.  Of course, if you did not know Jim well, you might be surprised there is a Christian burial to begin with.  Jim was not at all bashful about expressing his opinions about the Church and about the parish.  If you took his comments at face value, you might think he hated the Church.  In truth, Jim mostly wanted Her members to live as Jesus commanded and lived Himself.  And sometimes, he said what he said because he knew it gave others around him an opportunity and the freedom to say what they wanted to say or ask what they needed to ask. 

     I only knew Jim 8 ½ years, so I cannot speak to older Jim.  I know some of you present knew him from work or from art or from some other social gatherings.  Jim was incredibly entrepreneurial, creative, and inquisitive in the time I knew him.  He served on the Vestry while I was here.  He has sung in the choir for more than two decades.  In fact, he was my co-conspirator in getting the choir to sing for the early service on Easter mornings.  He promised that as long as I pumped them full of mimosas, he would make sure they came and sang joyfully!  He was an enormous supporter of Body & Soul, our food pantry, even though it caused him to question some of his own personal assumptions about God, specifically those assumptions about how active God was in the day to day life of humanity and individuals.  I could never get him to do anything about the drying up lake in Chad, of which he was quite passionate, but he combined with Robert to launch a group which they later named Wrestling with Faith that tried to do what its name suggests.  All that is to say that Jim had an active faith and membership which might surprise some people, given some of the words that came out of his mouth.

     From my perspective, Jim’s best criticism was absolutely constructive.  Jim had no respect and little love for churches and Christians who publicly dressed themselves in their faith with words but lived as if Jesus never gave us the Lord’s Prayer or the Beatitudes, which, as y’all no doubt have figured out brings us back to the Gospel reading today. 

     The passage is famous enough that many non-Christians know it.  It is often referred to as the Beatitudes or the Sermon on the Mount.  That latter name, of course, served as one of Jim and my discussions over the “conflicts in the Bible,” as he would sometimes describe them.  Matthew writes that Jesus went up a mountain to preach to the crowd; Luke writes that Jesus gave this sermon on a plain.  Jim’s big question was “which version is correct or true?”  I reminded him that Matthew wrote from his own memories years after Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension and that Luke wrote from his interviews with the Apostles and early disciples.  I also reminded him as I do you now, our idea of a mountain in Middle Tennessee is a bit different from many of those in the Holy Land.  One of those modern tourist trap places in Israel that claim to be the site of this sermon is more a hill than a mount, but Sermon on the Hill does not have the same panache or cause people to travel out of their way to spend their money.  We both agreed that humanity is so stupid that Jesus probably taught this instruction in many different places and many different times, expecting us to realize its importance because of His frequent teaching and His life.  So, maybe both accounts are absolutely true.  That the sermon is in two Gospels and ignored by so many “Christians” certainly speaks to its importance in our Lord’s mind and also to our own stubborn hearts.

     For our part, we are often consumed with the trappings of fame and power.  To put it in Jesus’ language, we are interested in the trappings of glory.  Unfortunately, the glory that we chase, the glory by which we are distracted, are those things which the world around us pursues.  We like the shiny, vain baubles which dissipate quickly, and forget the lasting glory offered by our Father in Heaven.  Luckily for all of us, Jesus did not forget.

     Those whom Jesus taught were like us.  When will the kingdom of God come?  When will the injustices be corrected?  How will the economy work?  How will the social order be constructed?  Jesus’ answer to those questions are surprising and, perhaps, nonsensical to much of humanity.  How can those who mourn Jim’s death, or the death of other loved ones, ever be truly comforted?  How can the meek ever inherit anything?  We have to fight for what is ours.  And who wants to show mercy?  Most of us, if we are truly honest with ourselves, want the power to exact vengeance rather than the heart to show mercy to those who have wronged us.  Good.  I see some squirms.

     Good thing I am not going to preach about those who are persecuted for being jerks, huh?  In that, Jim found a kindred spirit in me.  It drove us both nuts that Christians complain they are treated “harshly” for being jerks – to be fair, Jim and I used other earthy language in these discussion that might offend your gentle ears.  Jesus reminds us in this teaching we are blessed when we are persecuted for doing what He commands.  I meet too many Christians who can’t understand why waiters and waitresses don’t like those fake $100 bill tips that say “the best tip is Jesus” or why the should not berate service personnel for trying to do their jobs or for giving the finger or cussing out drivers because they are in a hurry.  When you are cursed for doing the things Jesus commands—mourning, being merciful, being a peacemaker and the like--, you are blessed.  When you are cursed for being a jerk, you are not blessed.

     Jesus’ teachings here and in Luke’s version, of course, are counter cultural.  But His teachings instruct us in His ministry.  You and I and all those who claim Jesus is Lord of our lives are expected by Him to live as if that is true.  We are called to help others, to live as if we believe our Lord was serious when He described the Kingdom’s values.  We are called to live as if we believe Jesus is serious when He promises that all who are baptized in His Name die to themselves and are promised a resurrection into His glory.  We are called to live as if we truly believe that the path to lasting glory is the Cross and our own crosses.  Make no mistake, my friends, these are all crosses.  They are hard.  They are work.  They are a struggle.  Yet so many who claim the mantle of Christianity forget the example that He set.  How many of us chase wealth, as if it is the only security we can have?  How many of us chase power, as if our ability to influence or command others is anything other than fleeting?  How many of us Christians act and live as if we are entitled to our glorious inheritance without first bearing our own crosses?  It was that hypocrisy that drove Jim nuts.  It was that hypocrisy that caused him to criticize churches and the Church and those who had the bully pulpits of this world.  What do I mean?

     Those of you paying close attention might have heard me asking JoAnne if we were ok to use an example before I started.  Good.  I see some nods.  When JoAnne came in to talk about the readings and expressed her desire to use the Sermon on the Mount rather than the reading she had chosen begrudgingly, I told her I already had a Beatitude sermon illustration or two involving Jim.  I told her what I am about to shared with y’all, but I told her I was worried about the other party in this story showing up.  I did not want him and his relationship with Jim negatively impacted by learning the truth.  JoAnne promised to help me keep an eye out for whether he showed up for Jim’s funeral.  But, just in case he is here, neither of us have seen you, if you are here.  I will not use names and too many identifying details.  And please understand Jim was trying to be a true friend to you, honoring both your own attitudes and feelings and meeting a need in your life.

     I have said repeatedly, and many of you have nodded, of Jim’s lack of tolerance for those self-identified Christians who ignore the Beatitudes and the Lord’s Prayer as they live their lives.  Those who knew Jim superficially might well have thought he hated Christianity, given his criticisms and a lack of context.  In fact, a few acquaintances and others have decided its their job to worry about Jim’s salvation and my participation in a burial service for him.  And, by the way, were he with us today, you would find yourself in his ire.  More importantly, those taking that decision upon themselves are being the very hypocrites that both Jesus and Jim liked to call out.  But it is appropriate, as we remember God’s promises to Jim that we remember our Lord’s instructions to us.  Our job is not to judge the salvation or state of the soul or eternal destination or whatever you want to call it of any other human being.  Our job is to glorify God in our lives, and He reminds us this day, through Matthew’s recount of the Sermon on Mount, that we glorify Him chiefly by mourning when appropriate, feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, exercising mercy, making peace, and all the other instructions contained in these twelve verses.  That’s our job.  The rest is up to Him.  And thankfully, because Christ was raised from the dead on that third day, we know the Lord has power and will to do the rest!

     Back to our job, well, Jim’s really.  I had a few backup illustrations of how Jim lived his life in accordance with what he understood from a few decades of Scripture readings and sermons, a enormous number of hymns sung in worship, and even some discussions with Adventers and strangers about God.  But when JoAnne asked about the Beatitudes, an easy one jumped out.

     About a year ago, a friend of Jim’s lost his job.  I learned of it because Jim called to tell me and had a plan.  If he sent the friend over to the pantry, would I meet him and pretend not to know him or his needs.  Jim’s plan was to tell him that he supported Body & Soul but never used it.  This friend could in his place.  My job, according to Jim, was to see how else we could help him.  Jim’s big worry was that the friend would not want to accept help.  Jim’s worry was that this friend needed assistance but was unwilling to ask for or accept help.

     To make a long story short, I “bumped into” the gentleman at the pantry.  When I asked how he was doing, he shared what had happened and how hard it was for him.  Jim had tossed me the alley-oop, so I just dunked the ball and asked if there was any way we could help.  After some . . . let’s call it passionate discourse over whether everybody needs some help from time to time, the friend agreed to let my church help him.  He would let my church pay a cell phone bill while he looked for another job.

     What nobody else knew, of course, was that Jim was reimbursing my discretionary funds to make this possible.  For about a year.  Jim went so far as to call our financial admin and have her set up an automatic withdrawal because he might forget to pay the bill from time to time.  Looking around, I am pretty certain that few people knew Jim was like that in his faith.  I see your elbows and whispers and shocked expressions.  For all his frustrations with the Church, for all his love of science and explanation in favor of miracles, Jim took seriously the commands of our Lord.  A neighbor was in need, and he was in a position to address the need.  When so many of us Christians would choose to ignore the need and step over the unfortunate, Jim literally put his money where his heart was and is.  Best of all, he did it in a way that only His Father in Heaven, his priest, and his wife knew.  Jim helped the friend because he loved him and trusted God.  He knew how such experiences can crush a human spirit, and he tended even to that in his friend.

     There are, as I said, many other such stories by which I will remember Jim.  Some may come out over the years; some may not.  Jim’s cantankerousness was easy for me to take because it was motivated by a love of God and a love of the parish and a love of those around him.  I found it a wonderful and joyful irony that a man who could be so . . . well, Jim, wishing the Church would quit paying attention to the unbelievable miracles of Scripture, could be so moved and bathed in God’s Holy Spirit that he missed the miracle happening in his own heart and his own life.  And what I wouldn’t give to have seen the look on his face when he learned that all those miracles, all those promises of God, were true!  But I strongly suspect we will all have that same silly look for a few centuries after our own resurrections, as God is always doing more than we can ask or imagine.

     Jim’s family, I hope you know he loved and treasured each one of you.  Jim fussed and fumed about those things important to him.  He shared some of his frustrations, some of his hopes, and some of his failures with many of you.  In some ways, if you found yourself on the receiving end of Jim’s rants or arguments, you have some knowledge of how much he cared for you.  That is not to say he was a perfect father, a perfect husband, a perfect brother, a perfect grandpa.  He knew he was not, and his failures frustrated him far more than each of you did him.

     Adventers, and especially members of the choir, I know this has been a tough season.  We have lost steadfast members, steadfast characters and personalities, whose journey is no longer the same path as our own.  Yet it was for moments like this, seasons like this, that our Lord came down, in the ultimate expression of steadfast love, that we might stand at the graves of loved ones, certain in the hope that we will all one day be reunited with them and God, and sent back out into the world out there to do the tasks He has given each of us to do.

     For those of you who are struggling with the questions with which Jim wrestled, those who are seeking God, maybe even those Christians who have forgotten that the path to the glory we are called to seek is available only through cross-bearing lives, through lives that reflect the teachings of our Lord,  I encourage you to pay more attention to Jim’s actions in your life than perhaps his words.  Yes, his words were sometimes scandalous and sometimes confusing, but insofar as they related to God and faith, many of those spoken words served God’s purposes, allowing those struggling the freedom to ask questions they were afraid to ask and leading those perhaps too self-righteous to a bit of self-examination.  Our Anglican luminaries have taught us that real faith is an inward conviction that involves the whole activity of a human being.  I think it fair to say Jim’s activities reflected such a faith.  For all his bluster, for all his opines, he was washed in the waters of baptism, he was nourished by Christ’s Body & Blood in the Sacrament, he led us in joyful praise and singing, he was a true lover of his friends and neighbors, he led his parish when called, and he was not afraid to repent when he realized his errors or sins—for decades!  My friends, his activity among you demonstrated his faith and his longing, that those promises of God are true.  Would that when our lives are remembered when death has called us home, that the same will be said of us.

 

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

On perspectives and horizons . . .

      One might say our readings today are a God-incident or God-ronic.  How else do we explain that these are our readings on Jim’s birthday the day after we celebrated his funeral?  Oh, I know.  A committee got together and chose readings for each Sunday during the church year.  I made the choice that we were doing the history tract rather than the prophetic track during the season after Pentecost.  People who are born have birthdays eventually die.  We can explain everything that happen in some way, shape, or form; but even Bartimaeus could see the coordination is beyond our abilities.

     If you are visiting and wondering why people are chuckling, we buried a long-standing member and character yesterday.  Jim was famous or notorious, depending on your mood, for some of his discussions about miracles in the Bible.  It drove him a bit nuts for me to accept them as real and teach them as such.  Were he here with us today, I would naturally poke the bear and point out how manna might have made great birthday cake.  I mean, it made great bread, right?

     It would have been fun to compare the psalmist’s recollection of events in Scripture with what really happened.  The author of Genesis makes it clear that God’s people are unhappy and complaining all the time.  Now, they complain they are starving, so God meets that need, too.  The psalmist leaves the complaining out of his or her re-telling of that event.

     I have to admit, I was tempted to preach on Matthew thanks to my Greek work  with Joshua and Brian this week.  We spent some time talking about the idling workers whom the owner of the vineyard continues to invite throughout the day.  As Brian said, the English does not make it as clear that these workers invited subsequently were seen idling by the owner throughout the day.  We talked about how that understanding might inform evangelism better.  God is so gracious that He is extending that hand to humanity, and will be, right upon until His Son’s return.  Part of our job, as stewards, is both to extend His invitation and remind ourselves that workers came before and after us.  Best of all, we should celebrate that others join us, no matter the time they spend working with us.

     But, I felt called to preach on the letter to the Philippians.  Specifically, I felt called to preach on Paul’s perspective and how it should inform our own.  By way of a bit of history, Paul’s letter is written to a church in a community of the far NE of Greece.  It was a town of some significance, tactically speaking.  I forget its original name, but Phillip of Macedon renamed the town after himself, after he conquered it and cemented his reign in the ANE.  For those of you thinking his name sounds familiar, it should.  He was the father of Alexander the Great.

     The town entered world history again during the last great civil war of the Republic of Rome.  After Julius was assassinated, the elites divided and fought among themselves for power.  The simple version is that Octavian’s troops fought troops loyal to Mark Antony.  You know your history well enough to know that Octavian troops won.  He was proclaimed emperor and changed his name to Augustus.  Those of you who are too young to have learned this history in school yet, think Palpatine’s efforts to turn the republic into an empire.  This effort just involved shields and spears and swords rather than light sabers and laser guns.  What?  Star Wars teaches history?

     Once the Civil War was over, Augustus settled his victorious troops in nearby Philippi, gave them all citizenship, and charged them with representing and defending Rome on the frontier.  Since so few people were actually citizens of Rome, and entitled to the privileges and responsibilities of that citizenship, the new citizens took their job very seriously.  Some might say they tried to outrome Rome, to prove they were up to the task and thankful to the newly crowned emperor for his largesse and trust.  Augustus, of course, knew what he was doing.  Nobody in Rome wanted veteran soldiers in Rome with nothing to do.  That’s how emperors get overthrown.

     Philppi enters the Church picture in Acts 16.  Paul travels to NE Greece, planting churches along his journey.  For those who want to learn more about his work, join us on Tuesday night.  In another God-incident, guess what chapter we are staring in our Acts Bible study?

     We don’t know too much about the church in Philippi.  We can surmise a great deal by virtue of our understanding of Roman culture and Paul’s exhortations and instruction in the letter.  It would have been tough in Philippi to declare Jesus the Son of God and Lord.  Augustus was the son of a god and the lord of the empire.  The cult of emperor worship likely flourished there, making Christians a distinct, almost treasonous, counter cultural group.  The pressure to blend in would have been intense, especially if any of the veterans or their descendants were members of the church.

     Our reading jumps into the middle of chapter one.  Paul makes this statement in verse 21 that for him, living is Christ and dying is gain.  It sounds like a crazy perspective even to our ears in the modern Church.  Think of the money we spend trying to fend off death.  Heck, a number of you are engaged in that work through your vocations in the medical part of our world.  I am betting it would not take much prodding to get some of you to describe patients who were terrified of the prospect of death.  Yep, I see the nods already.

     It would be about this time I would pretend to be a mind reader and tell Jim to relax.  I am not encouraging anyone to go play hopscotch on I-65 this morning.  One of Jim’s BIG complaints was the focus of Christians on the eternal rather this world.  Why on earth would Paul think that death is not a bad thing?

     One reason Paul thinks it is not a bad thing would be his experience on the Road to Damascus.  Prior to that moment in his life, Paul is enemy number one.  In fact, he is described by others and himself as the chief persecutor of the Church.  His goal is to stamp out this blasphemous notion that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of Yahweh.

     On his way to Damascus, however, Paul has an encounter with the Risen Jesus.  People often wonder of the encounter is real.  Look at Paul before and after.  What explains his complete reversal?  What better explains him going from being the chief persecutor of the Church to the Apostle to the Gentiles other than a mystical encounter with a Resurrected Jesus?  And just to remind us all, this encounter shakes Paul to his very core.  Everything he knew to be true has to be re-examined in light of this encounter.  He spends three years of his life trying to account for this Jesus.  He spends three years wrestling with the torah in light of his encounter with Jesus.  That wrestling, of course, explains his well-developed theology that is found in his various letters.  Everything in the torah points to Jesus as the Messiah.  It simply took the Resurrection for Paul to understand that.

     But back to our question about how Paul can understand that dying is gain.  As we have reminded ourselves now twice in a couple weeks, we understand that death is but a horizon, and a horizon is simply beyond our seeing.  But if Jesus’ Resurrection is true, then His disciples have nothing to fear about death.  In fact, if Jesus’ Resurrection is true, we have reason to be excited about death.  If the soul-sleep folks are right, the worst thing that happens is that we get a rest from our labors!  If we go to be with Him immediately, we are just the early arrivals to the Marriage Feast!  Neither of those prospects are bad.  Because Paul has met Jesus, after His crucifixion and death, Paul knows that all who trust in God are alive in His Christ.  God is, after all, the God of the living!  Understanding that in an experiential way that many of us lack, it is no wonder that Paul does not mind the idea of dying.

     Of course, as Paul goes on to reflect in our passage, he realizes that so long as he is alive here, he has work to do for God.  Though he knows that being with Christ is the far better choice, he accepts that God knows the Philippians need Paul’s guidance now.  Because Paul knows that God is working all things to His glory, and Paul knows he will share in that glory for his joyful obedience, he trusts that God will use him until He calls Paul home.

     Modern Christians, especially modern Christian Americans often forget that this is not our home, that we, too, like our father Abraham are wanderers here.  I suppose we are reminded that we are in but not of this world more, but if we pay close attention to God’s instruction of us, we realize we are sojourners, wanderers, ambassadors, and all kinds of other language that denotes this place, as good as it may be for us, is not our home.

     That language of home and being with God has bookended our summer in some ways.  Those of you present near the beginning of summer may remember our discussion of being at God’s bosom.  Genesis and John’s Gospel both reminded us that our Father in heaven wants to hold us to His bosom, not unlike the way a father or grandfather holds a child closely in his lap or a mother holds a nursing baby.  It is an intimate, loving description.  Paul, for his part, understands that Jesus is the way to that intimate, loving existence.  Those things that he valued prior to that encounter with Jesus on the Road to Damascus are skubala.  Roman citizenship?  Of the tribe of Benjamin?  A zealot?  It is all worthless compared to what God offers through His Son.  For Paul, that encounter makes this the focus of his life.  It is not an academic exercise.  It is not a “pleasant thought.” 

     As Paul goes on, he reminds the Philippians to live their life in the manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ.  All of them are living in a culture not that different from our own.  Among those in the world at that time, they are blessed.  They have wealth, citizenship, the favor of the emperor, and even security.  Many are veterans of one of the largest battles ever fought up until their day.  Who in their right mind would dare tangle with them or threaten their city?  There would be tremendous peer pressure to blend in, to act like others, to worship the emperor, and who knows what else.  But Paul reminds them of their loyalty to Christ Jesus and encourages them to live their lives in a manner worthy of Him.

     Would that American Christians would internalize Paul’s instruction!  What would be our response to immigration?  To poverty?  To systemic injustices?  To homelessness?  To mental illness?  And that list could go on.  Do we live our lives worthy of the Gospel of Christ?  Do we hold our “Christian” politicians to that standard when we cast our ballots?  Ouch!  I know.  I know.  Understand this though, when we live our lives dishonoring the Gospel of Christ Jesus, it impacts the world around us negatively.

     Understand, too, Paul is not writing that the church in the Philippi needs to revolt against the current leadership or seek power to do its job.  The church is like the yeast in bred dough or salt in food.  Her work is powerful, even if the world does not notice it; Her work is transforming even if the individuals in Her care do not understand the purposes of their labors or sufferings.  God gives the purpose.  God gives the meaning.

     Paul goes on in verses 28 and 29 to instruct them that they will make enemies.  Anyone who is an enemy of God will choose enmity with them.  But they, and we, should not be surprised.  In fact, Paul reminds them and us that when we attract enemies for doing the work of the Gospel, for glorifying God in our own lives, and the sufferings and humiliations that come with those enemies, we should see ourselves as privileged.  Not only do we believe in God and Christ, but we are given a share of His suffering.  We become little i incarnations, testifying to world the truth of the Gospel.  And if we truly believe that this is not our home, if we truly accept that the things of the world are vainities, the world will see and hear the same instruction as us.  Those in the world may reject that instruction, but we should not be surprised that they do.  After all, they put to death the One whom God sent, just as they stoned and rejected those whom He sent for generations.  Why would we expect to be treated any better?

     Paul’s perspective, of course, hinges on the Resurrection of Jesus.  Had Paul not encountered Jesus on that road to Damascus, it is likely he would have continued doing his best to stomp out Apostles and disciples and those who believed their message.  But Paul did meet Jesus, and that meeting had profound implications for Paul.  We don’t know whether Paul expected a militaristic messiah who would cast off oppression or a political messiah who would lead God’s people to glory or one of the other accepted descriptions of messiah.  What we DO know is that Paul did not expect the Suffering Servant of Isaiah to be the Messiah.  Yet in that encounter on that road at noonday, Paul came face to face with God’s redemptive power and redemptive plan.  Paul experienced the  Resurrected Jesus, and it changed everything for him.

     Many of us, of course, complain to God that we need the same experience.  Jim would sometimes complain bitterly that the wider Church got so consumed by the rewards and punishments of the afterlife that She missed her job for this life.  I would agree.  So would Paul.  And so would our Lord.

     In the end, of course, all our perspective, all our meaning, everything we are and we are called to be hinges on the Resurrection.  If it is true, then we should not be of this world.  We should know that we are journeying, passing through, headed for somewhere and someone far more glorious!  Make no mistake my friends.  It is hard work; it is cross-bearing work; it is a struggle.  God knows that.  Paul understood that.  Even Jesus reminded us that we are blessed for believing and not seeing.  But it all hinges on that amazing moment in the Garden, when Mary was asked why she looked for Jesus among the dead.  We look back on these accounts and wrestle with them.  We listen to the descriptions of those who shared the Gospel with us.  We evaluate whether we think they are true or crazy and we decide.  We Episcopalians call it a reasonable faith in our worship.  We ask ourselves what could cause Paul to change so dramatically?  What could cause our loved one to share this Gospel so intently?  What could cause shalom in the midst of death or suffering or anything else?  How do we explain the need and the provision of thousands and thousands of pounds of food each month?  How do explain the fact that the Church continues to survive despite Her clay members?  And we answer.  We might not have the experience we want, but we each have all the experiences we need.  He has seen to that!  And because He has seen to that, we, too, can see, can believe, and can hope.

     My friends, I understand our mourning and our fears and our challenges.  I have spent fifteen minutes or so speaking about a corporate experience and understanding and have said very little indeed to the individual sufferings some of you have shared and many of you have kept secret.  The Gospel news, of course, is that He sees, He knows, and best of all He cares and promises to redeem, especially in the lives of those who try to live their lives in a manner that glorifies His Son.  Reminded of His power and reminded that He cares, and fortified by the food He gives us, we are sent back out there, into the struggle, that the world around us might hear the same invitation we heard, and choose to seek the home that our Lord created for all who call Him Father.

 

In His Peace,

Brian†

For our benefit . . .

      Before we dive back into Exodus this morning, I want to remind people that I do not try and cover everything that is in Scripture intentionally.  My job as a pastor is to discern prayerfully both what lesson we need to hear and what part of those lessons we need to hear.  That is not to say I am ignoring parts of readings because I am unaware or because I am mean.  It’s more a case of “how long will they sit?”  But, I was moderately excited this week as a couple Adventers came into my office this week to talk about the name of God and the JEDP authorship of the Pentateuch.  Most of you have no idea about what I am referencing, but there used to be an accepted modern theory that four authors wrote, or strongly edited Moses’ writings.  It has since fallen mostly out of favor, though Funmi shared at 8am that a couple professors at Sewanee still strongly professed their belief in that understanding.  Now, could I have preached about it or included it in the sermon?  Sure.  Would it have helped most of us understand anything about God being the Great I AM?  I did not think so.  That being said, Adventers are always welcome to come in and chat about sermon tangents or Scripture tangents or even the other Scripture readings.  I love those conversations way more than much of the stuff I have to do.  And, yes, I understand that most Adventers are well-educated.  Some of you use spare time to educate yourself on other matters, like Scripture.  So I often look forward to such discussions as everyone brings their perspectives and experiences to those discussions as we flesh out what God wants us to know.  And just because I think the parish needs its attention drawn to something does not mean I do not expect the Holy Spirit to speak to individuals about something else. 

     We skip ahead this week several chapters in the book of Exodus.  In fact, for those of us familiar with Charlton Heston’s version of Moses, we skip the entirety of the plagues.  I made an offhand comment today at 8am and four of those at worship grabbed me for more discussion, so I will give y’all more background.  The plagues serve as a polemic against the gods of Egypt and against the accepted cosmology of much of the ANE.  The ANE understood that what happened on earth was reflected in heaven and vice versa.  That meant that if a god or goddess was defeated in the heavens, their people would be defeated on earth.  The corollary was also true.  If a people were defeated on earth, the victors’ god/goddess would conquer in the heavens.  That understanding made locations, especially temples, super important in these cosmological battles.  If a god lost his or her temple on earth, he or she lost part of her power in the heavens.  Now you know why Babylon and Rome destroy the Temple in Jerusalem and elsewhere when they conquer various peoples.  For those of you who have visited Rome, now you know why the Temple Row exists.  At the point of a sword, Rome invited the priests of defeated nations to serve at a temple to their god in Rome.  Best of all, now you know why Israel does not take the prophets’ threat seriously when they prophesy the Exile and the destruction of the Temple.  Right?

     God, of course, will do what He wants to do.  Nothing will stop Him.  Israel, Egypt, and we need to begin to inwardly digest that understanding.  Just to remind ourselves, Egypt is the super-power of the day when this all happens.  They are the United States of the ANE as this unfolds.  Because they are the strongest military and the largest economy and all the other benefits, the rest of the world perceives them as blessed and favored by the best and strongest gods.  Because they know this is all true of themselves, they know they are favored by the strongest gods in the heavens.  With me so far?

     So, God brings plagues, one after another, that demonstrate Egyptian gods’ impotence to fight Him.  Most of us spend too little time studying Egyptian mythology, so I will not bore you with names you do not know.  But we all know they worshipped the Nile god, right?  Good.  Hapi was the god’s name, for those of us who care.  The Nile god was responsible for the annual flooding which brough fertility to Egypt – remember, Egypt was the breadbasket of the ANE because of the Nile floods.  When God turns the Nile to blood, He is attacking the Nile god where the Nile god is supposedly the strongest.  If the Nile god is truly in charge of the Nile, no foreign god should be able to exercise authority in the god’s demesne.  Not only does the God of Israel exercise power over the Nile god, but the priests and magicians are unable to help strengthen the Nile god in the fight against Yahweh.  Similarly, and we all know this one, the darkness that covers the land is an attack on Ra, the god of the sun.

     Egypt, Israel, the rest of the ANE, and even we in Nashville, TN are instructed by these plagues that God is truly God.  To use the words of Paul, nothing, no power or principality, can separate us from God or thwart God in His purposes.  Got it?  Good.

     What strikes some of us weird, and where I think God wanted our focus today, though, takes place after the prophesy of the tenth plague but before its execution – pun intended.  Just before our reading today, God informs Moses that He will kill every firstborn of Egypt, from human beings to animals in the fields.  More amazingly, no Israelite will be harmed.  The wailing of Egypt will never be forgotten, but neither will the safety of Israel.  God makes a distinction between His people and the Egyptians and executes His judgment accordingly.

     God then gives these instructions to Moses about what will come to be known as the Passover Meal.  Because many of you attend Holy Week services, the rubrics of the meal, to use our terminology from the BCP, does not surprise you.  Those who have sat through Larry’s lecture on the calendar and those who have watched Charlton Heston will also be familiar with all this.  An unblemished lamb is chosen for the sacrifice and tended for two weeks.  After the two weeks, the lamb is slaughtered at twilight.  God gives cooking instructions and instructions about attire and even that the lamb will be consumed quickly by all in the household.  Any leftovers will be burned in the morning.  Famously, the blood from the lamb will be put on the doorposts and the lintel.  God promises that when He comes to execute judgment on Israel, He will pass over the houses that keep the Passover Meal.  Best of all, He commands the Meal as a perpetual remembrance for all generations!

     As I was preparing for the sermon this week, I ran across a couple commentators who pointed out just how weird and out of place this seems.  To one, it was clear evidence that the book of Exodus had been edited.  Some later scribe must have come along and written this in there to justify the meal to later generations.  In the middle of this crazy narrative about plagues, God gives instructions about a meal; and then the story continues with the execution of the first born of Egypt. 

     Truth be told, I did not look up anything about the authors.  Maybe they are not a fan of miracles.  Maybe they have an over-developed hermeneutic of suspicion.  I even wondered if they were so focused on their expertise that they could not see the forest because they are looking too closely at the tree.  I assumed their attitudes about the meal could be because they were not liturgical Christians.  Right?  I mean, if you are not fed by liturgical worship, much of what happens seems weird or out of place.  Heck, think of the first time you worshipped using the BCP.  Now, most of us do not even crack the book, the prayers and responses are so well known.  But in the beginning?  Those first few months?  And the calisthenics made it worse.  I have to speak words and do the hokey pokey?  We laugh, but those of us laughing remember just how lost we were.  But we need, from time to time, to be reminded why we do what we do.  Why do we worship this way and not that way?  Why do we say this prayer then and not later?  And that’s the big job of a pastor.  Scholars teach us knowledge, but pastors have to answer the why’s and what does that mean for me questions.

     Why does God take a time out in the middle of these plagues and give His people a meal?  There are several answers to that question, and I will likely not cover them all this morning.  I hope my answer provokes some further conversation, though.  Chiefly, you and I would say that this meal is a type and shadow of the Eucharist that we celebrate when we gather for worship.  Good, I see nods.  Because we are liturgical Christians and repeat the same actions week after week, season after season, year after year, we understand how the Passover Meal pointed to the Eucharist instituted by our Lord Christ on Maundy Thursday.  Once a year, we remember intentionally that institution.  We are invited to the Table like those who were with our Lord.  Our feet are washed.  We are reminded of what our Lord has done for us, how He acted like a servant rather than the King.  The words of institution sound differently in our ears because of the liturgical actions and readings and prayers of the night.  Each week we gather in remembrance of Christ’s death, we proclaim His Resurrection, and we await His Coming in glory, we are living in that perpetual command.  But it is all somehow different on that night, that night before we remember His crucifixion and death.

     But, and I think this may be even more important than the type and shadow aspect of the meal, you and I are reminded of a truth that was first unveiled to Jacob, then Moses and Israel, and then to Christ’s Apostles and disciples.  Both the events of the Passover and Maundy Thursday occur in the midst of great suffering and death and judgment, of seeming confusion, frustration, and doubt.  God intentionally instructs Moses before He executes the firstborn of Israel to eat that meal.  Jesus intentionally instructs His disciples to share this bread and this cup before He is betrayed, tortured, crucified, and buried.  Right?  Why?

     Remember, part of what is happening in the Pentateuch, and Exodus in particular, is the unveiling of more about God.  Israel, and we, are learning more about the things He values and His character.  God goes from being the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to the Lord who is abounding in steadfast love, right?  In the stories, we are learning about our own character, too.  Does any of us merit the faithfulness of God?  Time and time again, humans will do things their own way and turn from God, right?  We do the exact same thing.  But in those moments where you and I struggle, where we wonder if God is still with us or for us, we have our liturgy.

     I hope we are all reminded this morning that God does not need our worship.  God is not sitting out there in time and space needing His ego stroked.  He is God.  He needs nothing from us.  He can do what He wants to do when He wants to do it.  And if worship is not for Him, for whom must it be?  Yep.  Us.  Why?  Worship helps us remember the lessons and truths He taught Jacob at the bottom of the ladder, the lessons and truths He taught Israel and Egypt and the world in the Exodus of Israel, the lessons and truths He taught His disciples during His time dwelling among us, and the lessons and truths He teaches us still!  He is with us.  He is among us.

     Part of why worship exists is so that you and I will be reminded of the truth that God is involved in the events of the world, that God cares deeply about what happens to us, and that God will accomplish His purposes despite the actions and attitudes of the world.  Put differently, worship is like the Sabbath which will be given in a few chapters; it exists for our own benefit.

     When we gather for worship, what do we do?  We pray together collectively and individually in our attempts to attune ourselves to God.  We read the stories and teachings of Scripture to remind ourselves of the history of God’s people and God’s revealed truths.  We make our intercessions and thanksgivings through prayer.  We confess our sins to God and receive absolution.  And then we celebrate the Eucharist that our Lord instituted before He faced betrayal, rejection, torture, and death.  As you read the words of God today in Exodus, notice the similarities to the Meal described by Jesus.  Part of what we are teaching Funmi is not to leave any leftovers on the altar, right?  We eat His flesh and drink His blood knowing we are sent back out into the world to do the work He has given each of us to do.  We remember the freedom from oppression that He gives us, in our context the freedom from the oppression of sin rather than empire.  But for some brothers and sisters around the world, that freedom from empire is almost as important.  In some cases, we remind ourselves that because we are washed in Christ’s blood, God will pass over the judgment we deserve.  We intentionally remind ourselves of these truths each and every time we gather.  We remember His death.  We proclaim His Resurrection.  We await His Coming Again.  And we remind ourselves that this event we call worship is really for our benefit.  Our sacrifice is merely a sacrifice of what?  That’s right.  Praise and thanksgiving.  Our sacrifice, on some levels, does not approach that described by God in this pericope.  Our Hebrew brothers and sisters tended their lamb for two weeks before they sacrificed it.  How much tending of The Lamb do we do?

     Worship, might friends, should never be understood as something we do for God’s benefit or because He is some mega-ego in the sky who needs affirmation from us.  Worship exists for us.  God gave us worship so that we might know that He is truly among us, that He truly cares for us, and that He desires nothing more than to draw all of humanity into that same loving embrace for which we should all long.  When things seem crazy threatening, such as in the Passover, God is there to remind us that He will see us through, that He snorts angrily at the idea that His children face evil and even death.  When things seem to be going well, when we seem to think our material blessings are proof of His care and concern for us, worship reminds us that the material things are not the proof—it was His love and guidance and eventual sacrifice for us that demonstrates His love for each one of us.  When things seem confusing or hard to understand, worship exists to remind us that our Lord understands, and better still, has power to shepherd us through.  Best of all, when things seem hopeless, worship exists to remind us of the hope that we should have because of that care and concern and power demonstrated by our Lord.

     As a community, I am mindful that we have had two untimely deaths that touch everyone here today except our visitors.  But our visitors are like many of us in that they, like us, have faced untimely deaths, maybe even some recently, in their more personal sphere.  As we are reminded over and over and over again in Scripture and in the world around us, the great oppressor seems to be death.  Death is that one human condition, if I might use that turn of phrase, that seems unsolvable or unconquerable to us.  People spend crazy amounts of money seeking ways to put death off or even be revived after.  But no matter how much money we throw at it, no matter how much we study it, no matter how much we fight it, we find our efforts futile.  But it is in worship that you and I are reminded of the reality of death, of both its cause, namely sin, and its close presence.

     But it is also in worship that you and I are reminded of the glorious power of God, and of His glorious will to exercise that power for our benefit.  It is in worship that we are reminded that only God can conquer death.  Better still, because He has sworn this covenant with us, that all who believe in His Son Jesus Christ our Lord, we know that He will exercise that power and give us back our lives, even those lives seemingly overpowered by death.  But because He has THAT kind of power, we are reminded when we worship that He has power to overcome everything in our lives, that when we are experiencing whatever troubles or confusion or vicissitude, we are truly being used by Him like a son or daughter to reach those around us.  We may not see it.  We may not hear it.  We may not understand it.  But because we are bathed in His suffering for our sake in our worship, because we are constantly reminded of His salvific and redemptive work in worship, because we are nourished by His Body and His Blood, we are each uniquely prepared to face the work that He has given us to do.  And reminded of those truths and nourished by the Sacrament, we are prepared to carry that Gospel of hope and love into a world that desperately needs to hear and see it!

 

In His peace,

Brian†

On dwelling and belonging and joy!

      Yes, I know sermons are creatures of God when prayed discerned and given.  Yes, I know y’all hate it when I preach two different sermons at the two gatherings on Sundays.  No, I did not have time to write them out this week.  Yes, I understand it almost makes more work for me during the following week as I deal with people who want to know why I preached one sermon at 8am and another at 10:30am and the contents of both.  And, yes, I understand when I give what I feel is a “meh” sermon, God will sometimes still use it to reach whom He needs to reach.  Yes, I realize that this sermon will be different from the earlier service, but life and death has changed our context!  Now that all of that is out of the way, we can jump right into Exodus, at both services, today, but maybe look at Exodus in a bit different light.

     The story itself is very well known, even outside those who self-identify as the people of God.  We call it the Burning Bush story in most Christian contexts.  Heck, for most of us gathered, it was the voice from the Burning Bush in the movie The Ten Commandments that was only recently replaced by the voice of Morgan Freeman as the voice of God in the minds of many.  Why the grumbling?  Do we have a lot of George Burns fans here today?  I am almost ready to change my sermon and go down that rabbit hole—whose voice do you hear when you read God speaking in Scripture?  Wouldn’t that be fun to talk about?  Maybe a rector’s forum would be better!

     In any event, as you have just heard and know from countless viewings of the Ten Commandments, God has just called and commissioned Moses.  Moses has seen the bush burning and not being consumed off in the distance, and so he has gone closer to examine what he has perceived.  From that bush, God speaks to Moses.  God instructs Moses to come no closer and to take off his shoes.  And this serves as one of those “different lights” of which I was talking a few minutes ago.

     If I was to ask you to name Moses’ tribe, how would you assign him?  More importantly, would the tribe to which you assigned him on the day of the Burning Bush accept him?  His story is well known, but do we place close attention to such details?  For example, if we declared Moses a Hebrew, would the Hebrews that God commissions him to free from Pharaoh accept him as one of their own?  He was raised a prince of Egypt in the royal household, their oppressors.  Do you think they would claim him as Hebrew before he’s led them to freedom?  Don’t worry.  Moses has his doubts, too.  He asks God what answer he should give to Israel when they ask what God’s Name is.  Moses realizes that they will be incredibly suspicious of him and his motives.  Though he is Hebrew by birth, he has not had their hard life of oppression.

     What if you called him an Egyptian?  Would they accept him?  The last couple weeks of OT readings has made it clear that Egypt fears and despises Israel.  Pharaoh commands the midwives to put the male babies to death and then drafts all Egypt into that effort.  They probably would not accept him either, huh?  I mean, he is one of them!

     That only leaves one other tribe, right?  Would the Midianites accept him as one of their own?  He has married into Jethro’s family, and Jethro is well respected.  Moses has become a good, if not great, shepherd.  Of course, they mostly think of Moses as an Egyptian.  It makes sense.  Moses crossed the great desert from Egypt at the beginning of his exile.  Why would they not think of him as an Egyptian?

     Three tribes, but none to claim his own and none to claim him.  It’s almost as if Moses is a wanderer like some other figure in history, traveling, but with no home to call his own.  If you have missed too many weeks this summer, I am referencing Abraham, the wandering Aramean.

     When we think on Moses, we tend to think on Moses after the Exodus, don’t we?  We tend to think of the guy who parted the Red Sea or was given the torah by God.  If we study the Scriptures a bit more, we might think of the snakes or the quail or the manna.  But we generally think about Moses after God has called and used him in His redemptive purposes.  Everyone wants to claim Moses as their own by the end of the story.  At the beginning, though?  Not so much.

     I point that out for a reason here as he approaches the burning bush and hears the voice of God.  Moses has been bereft of his identity.  Moses has been dependent upon the tolerance and hospitality of others.  Now, as Moses comes into the presence of God, how is he treated.  God tells him to take off his shoes.

     I know, I know, it is hallowed or sacred ground because God is present.  But in these ANE cultures around which Moses has bounced, there is a bit more at work other than God being present, which, let’s face it, is incredible for some to accept.  Taking off one’s sandals was a meaningful act in what you and I call hospitality.  To be invited into the dwelling of one meant one was being extended the protection of the host.  In other words, if I invited you into my dwelling place, you were under my protection.  Were anything to happen to you while you were under my protection, I would be dishonored.  If someone attacked you, they had to get through my men first.  Such was the obligation of hospitality.

     In taking off ones shoes, the one being shown hospitality was accepting the offering of the giver and exhibiting trust in their protection.  The preparedness for battle was no longer necessary.  In fact, guests would often have feet washed and other ministrations in order not to soil the dwelling of the host.  Taking of the sandals was a sign that both parties were entering into this social covenant.

     Back to Moses.  What would it mean, given his wandering existence, his identity crisis to use modern language, to be invited by God into His dwelling place and instructed to take off his shoes?  Ah, you get it now.  I hear the murmurs.  It is, as Jim would complain were he with us today, almost too fanciful to believe or accept.  Why would the Maker of all that is, seen or unseen, make such a gesture to a wandering human?  The truth, of course, is that He makes that offer to all humans.  Every human is offered the opportunity to dwell in the household of God for all eternity.  Such an invitation and opportunity is made possible through the work and person of Christ Jesus, but the opportunity is available to everyone.  Better still, while I know we are too influenced by the apocalyptic teachings of Left Behind and other such fictional works, how do the Scriptures describe our existence with God?  As real existence.  Jesus teaches about the right robe for a feast.  The prophets remind us that it is better to dwell at the threshold of God’s dwelling place than in the luxurious tents of the wicked.  The Garden of Eden imagery is like that of a manse or Babylonian palace.  Heck, when we bury Jim we will long for the day when God’s people are gathered as one flock under One Shepherd, right? 

     The greatest promise of Scripture is that God’s people will dwell with Him and that He will dwell with them.   It would seem fanciful.  Why would God want to dwell with people like us?  But over and over and over again, God makes that promise to His people.  And over and over again He instructs His people to go into the world living as if they trust in His promise and to invite those whom they encounter.  Another facet of the gem we call the Gospel is the reminder that God, the Maker of all that is seen and unseen, made every person and stamped each person with His image.  Every person we encounter in the world, therefore, has unsurpassable worth in His eyes and ought to in our own.  Even enemies.  But Scripture starts off with us dwelling with God, calling Him Andy to harken back to my Baptist roots, and trusting Him to provide everything we need.  The rest of the book is how we get back to that relationship.  The promise at the end is that He will bring it to be for all who claim His Son as Lord of their lives.

     Back to Moses.  I have already touched on this a bit, but the Name of God is important.  We have worked our way through the patriarchs and matriarchs of Genesis this summer.  In the beginning of this generational narrative, God is known as the God of Abraham, then Abraham and Isaac, then Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  It is not a Name in the sense of the gods and goddesses of the ANE.  In the story of Jacob’s ladder, though, we begin to be revealed a bit more about this God of Abraham and Isaac.  God is above and beside Jacob in his struggles, right?  Now, in this story with Moses, God tells Moses that His Name is I Am.

     During Easter season this year, we talked extensively about that and I reminded you then of this story.  God’s Name, which in Hebrew is unique because it has no vowel sounds, simply translates as I AM.  Back in Easter I taught you that the rabbis chose Ego eimi to translate this Name of God into Greek.  Good.  I see a couple nods.  Whenever Jesus makes the statement “Ego eimi . . . .” in Greek, it has theological overtones that we, native English speakers, miss.  That Ego eimi harkens back to this event and the Holy Name of God.  When Jesus says “Ego eimi”, His audience would hear the theological claim that we miss.  I had a few conversations the week after that sermon that some Adventers finally were beginning to understand why the priests hated Jesus so much.  In claiming that Name for Himself, Jesus was identifying Himself with God.  Intentionally.  Among the priestly and rabbic and scribal elite, the claim would not be missed.  In fact, it would be perceived as blasphemous, as Jesus calling Himself God.

     The Great I AM of the burning bush narrative, though, is hard for us to grasp.  In English, we like to fully describe it through nine permutations.  I am that I was.  I am that I will be.  I was that I am.  Good.  I see lots of nods.  The word has an understanding that we would say is physical, theological, and even polemical.  God is.  God always is.

     In the ways of an answer, we would say God’s answer to Moses is not exactly helpful.  Israel was oppressed by people who worshipped Ra and Osiris and countless other gods, to say nothing of Pharaoh’s opinions of himself.  What would it mean in that context for Israel to hear that the God of their ancestors was I AM, that I AM sent Moses to free them to worship Him, that I AM was still keeping the covenant He made with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?

      In the beginning, it is likely not much.  Israel does not believe Moses is a prophet called by I AM in the beginning.  Egypt and Pharaoh certainly do not believe it either.  It takes time for everyone to come to the understanding that I AM is God.  Both Israel and Egypt will believe it, at least in part, because I AM beats the major Egyptian gods in their strongholds and despite the efforts of their magicians and priests.  Then, when Pharaoh choses to kill all the firstborn males of Israel, I AM uses that judgment against Egypt even as He protects Israel.  By the time all of that plays out, both Israel and Egypt understand that I AM is.  More importantly, both understand that I AM is the God of Israel.

     And, yet, God is not done revealing His Name and His character to Israel or us.  One of the themes of the book of Exodus is how God is revealed and understood.  In the beginning, He simply IS.  Later, He will declare Himself a jealous God, demanding covenant loyalty of His chose people.  But then, as His chosen people figure out their inability to keep their end of the Covenant, He will reveal Himself as exceedingly merciful, that when He entered into this Covenant relationship with Abraham, He knew they could not and that He would pay the price of their disloyalty or sin.

     All that brings us back to that fancy word, relationship.  It has been a word that has been on the lips of Adventers a lot over the course of the last few weeks as we dealt with the death of Mary Clyde and now Jim, as the Psalms Bible Study has been wrestling with Psalm 73, as we have talked about the true impact of the feeding ministry, of Insight’s work, and who knows what else.  We even obliquely referenced it when we spoke of hospitality a few minutes ago.  Though there are any number of great miracles to get our attention in the stories of Genesis and Exodus, the most wonderous part of those stories is the fact that God invites humanity into relationship with Him.  It begins in the Garden, and we reject it on His terms.  But from that moment on, God is always wooing His people, all humanity, back into relationship with Him.  As Creator, we would say He has the right to demand our faithfulness, but such is His mercy and love that He asks for it instead.  Better still, He asks for it in ways that we can hear.

     In the case of Moses today, He invited Moses into relationship in a meaningful way, a way that would not impact you or I the same.  Similarly, He invites those whom we serve in His Name through Body & Soul into that same relationship.  He invites those with whom we partner; He invites those to whom we rent space; He invites all those we encounter in the world.  Best of all, of course, He invited us, each one of us, in ways that were meaningful to us.  And because we accepted, because we have come to know Him and His faithfulness through both these stories and the stories of those whom we serve and the stories of our own lives, we know the wonder and awe of such an invitation and of such faithfulness.  We know the joy of knowing that, no matter what tries to come between us and I AM, because He is, we, too, will be.  We know in a way that makes no sense to the world that it is ok if we are out of step with the wisdom of the world, if we seem financially nuts for giving away tons of food each week or not charging “market rates” as landlords, if we seem crazy for believing that I AM can overcome every evil in our lives, even death itself.  But because HE IS, and has bound Himself to each one of us in His Son our Lord Christ, we know that we, too, will always be.  To use the words of the Prayer Book, we can rest in His eternal changelessness, certain of His purposes for each one of us.

     I remind us of that call to relationship and of how God meets us where we are as we mourn the loss of Jim as a community.  If you are visiting or started attending after the start of the pandemic, Jim had strong opinions and was never afraid to express them.  And now you have heard the chuckles.  Among Jim’s strong opinions was the need to get rid of miracles in the Bible.  Jim unabashedly thought Thomas Jefferson was on to something cutting out the miracles.  Jim started a group, after drafting Robert, to wrestle with such things.  From time to time, Jim would say things that polite Episcopalians found scandalous.  In truth, I was never sure at any given moment whether he really believed what he was saying or he was just making space for others by being the focal voice for doubts and struggles.  Jim was sensitive to the message conveyed by the Christians who garnered attention on social media.  In many ways, I would say his heart seemed aligned with the heart of Christ, though like any human he sinned.  When folks would come to complain or tattle or struggle with something Jim had said or reportedly said, I often found myself more laughing than groaning inwardly.  Oh, I might curse him under my breath for the extra work, but it was usually important work that needed to be done.  People would hear what he said, sort of, but forget his life.  Everything he said was always in the context of having been an active member of this parish for more than two decades.  For however many years, Jim joined the choir in leading us to lift our voices in song, or a joyful noise at least, to God.  Week in and week out; month in and month out; year in and year out.  As the professional Christian, I would say God reached Jim’s heart, in part, through music.  Jim was never sure how important some of these teachings were, and he was always disappointed in our conversations to learn that his brilliant new thought had been addressed by the Church over and over and over again for the last 2000 years, or by God’s people for the last 6000 years.  But he came until his body began to fail him.  Despite his aversion to miracles, he came. 

     I share Jim’s background by way of one of our last group meetings on Thursday nights.  Jim was in a snit about life after death.  I would say Jim wanted Christians more focused on life in this world, but the perceptions of others may differ.  In any event, Ingrid finally asked Jim what would happen if he was wrong.  Would he be disappointed to find out that all of it, even the miracles, were true?  Jim had that moment of being poleaxed, of being silent for a few seconds—yet another miracle in our collective life!  But then he thoughtfully acknowledged that if it was true, it would have to be something incredible.  Ingrid just smiled and said she wished she could see the look on his face when that day comes.  Jim promised her that if it was true, he’d probably be wearing that expression for a while.

     I share that story because I found myself laughing when I received the text between the services that he had died.  I had visited him on Wednesday in the ICU, and he did not think himself near death then.  In truth, he was feisty and complaining that his body’s failure sucked.  But he asked for anointing and a prayer of healing.  He did not want to risk the Eucharist contributing to his esophageal and lung issues.  I found it another one of those experiences in my life where God had met me before I knew He was there.  What should have been a profound moment of shock and mourning this morning for me was one of comfort and laughter.  Make no mistake, I mourn for JoAnne and David and the rest of the family.  I mourn for his neighbors and those whose lives Jim impacted because he tried to live what Jesus taught.  But my mind went back and forth from Ingrid’s challenge that Thursday night to that prayer of healing and to trying to imagine the look on his face this amazing morning, even as we gather to thank God for the work He has done in Christ for each one of us.  I am certain Jim received the healing he was promised and has the craziest look on his face!

     I began this morning reminding us of our tribal identity and of what it means to be in relationship with I AM.  At the earlier service, I reminded them that we are wanderers looking for that Promised Land, just like Abraham and all those who came before, that we are the ultimate recipients of I AM’s unveiling revelation.  And because we know Christ Jesus as Lord, we will, one glorious day, find ourselves dwelling with God.  We will know ourselves loved and in a community of those who, like ourselves, chose to follow where He led, even when we seemed out of step with others.  We will know we belong.  We will know that we have finally come home.  But Jim’s death also reminded me that I should have shared with them of that surpassing joy and laughter.  I focused them on the peace of being known and loved and belonging, but I forgot the joy and silliness.  You see, as funny as I found it to imagine Jim’s face this morning, I started wondering about my face and yours.  How will we look when we see I AM face to face?  How will we look when we truly internalize that what He intends for each of us is beyond our askings and imaginations?  Best of all, how will those whom we invited in His Name perceive us, even as they are confronted by the fulfillment of such promises?  That, my friends, is a glorious hope of our calling and redemption, and maybe the best part of taking His commands seriously and working hard to draw others into His saving embrace!

 

In His Peace,

Brian†