Easter 4A - No Man is an Island

The reading from Acts gives us an amazing example of what the early Church was like. A short time after the Ascension of Jesus and the coming of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost, the Church is growing by leaps and bounds. St. Peter has been preaching and people have been converting on the spot.

For us Christians, this does not seem all that radical, but it really was. Imagine encountering a man preaching a new sect of your religion on a street corner, being cut to the heart by the message, and then giving up everything to join this preacher’s small group. That was the early Christians did – and that is what the Truth can do when it is preached. The people converting after hearing St. Peter come to live together in a community after having sold off everything they had, and giving the proceeds to the community to give equally to those in need.

The people who are gathered together in this community are known to hold to the apostle’s teaching and fellowship and to continue in the breaking of the bread and in the prayer. These words may ring a bell as we say them every time we baptize someone and renew our own baptismal vows.

The apostle’s “teaching and fellowship” was how these early Christians learned about Jesus and how to live as a Christian. As Americans who are culturally steeped in a certain type of Protestantism we often times think of the Church being built around the Bible. Sometimes we talk as if the Bible simply dropped from the sky after the Ascension of Jesus with a sticky note on it that said “run the church by this book!” Here we see that the Church in its earliest days molded itself around the authority given to the Apostles as Bishops of the church and the Holy Tradition they passed on to the followers and embodied in their acts.

We also see that they held together by the breaking of bread. Once again I think it’s easy to hear these words to mean table fellowship of shared meals. However, when the Book of Acts is read in the context as the second part of St. Luke Gospel like he tells us in the first chapter of the book, the term breaking of the bread points back to the Eucharist the Christ instituted. The early church gathered frequently as a community to meet the risen Christ in the Eucharist.

The prayers that are mentioned seem to mean both daily prayer amongst themselves and prayers at the Temple. At this early date, the Christians did not see themselves as a part of a new religion, but instead a fulfilled Judaism. As such they still went to the magnificent Temple in Jerusalem to join with their Jewish brethren in prayers.

What I think is really the most striking part of this section of Acts is the overt attention paid to the communal aspect of the early Church. People did not accept Jesus and then go on their merry was as individual followers of Christ. Following Christ meant joining a community and learning to live with that community as the holy Body of Christ.

The whole book of Acts points to this understanding of Christianity: it is a communal religion, not simply a belief held by an individual. To be a follower of Christ means to give yourself to others. It means to consult with others and accept their wisdom. It means to understand God, and how His image is in us, we need to look at the whole.

One the great Caroline Divines, John Donne, a priest and poet of the Church of England in the 1600’s wrote about this communal nature of man. “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” (Meditation XVII)

Donne was speaking of humanity in general, but this outlook on humanity was formed by a man that saw all things as a Catholic Christian. He saw the inter-connectedness of humanity to be part of the Divine ordering of the world.

This understanding needs to be in operation for a modern Episcopal parish church to function. We are a community that emphasizes communal knowledge and the authority of tradition handed down to us. In order for us to grow into this model we need to talk to each other, listen to each other, teach each other and learn from each other.

As the supervisor of Youth Ministry and Christian Education I have seen a lot of this in action. Mother Ede and I get paid to be teachers, and we do that. We teach confirmation, book studies and special one-off presentations for Feasts and Fasts. What is much more impressive however, is when people who don’t have “teaching” in their job description feel called to it volunteer to do it. And at Nativity, this happens frequently.

When I came here last summer, one of my first challenges was to transition the Christian Education model over to a committee model that valued and utilized the talents and efforts our all our members. I called a church wide meeting in August, and crossed my fingers that someone would show up. The words “Ye of little faith!” came into my head as person after person came to that meeting to discuss our Godly Play programs. A month later when I began to look for teachers I was nervous, thinking back to the three overworked people who ran Sunday School at my home parish back in Boston. I ended up with more teachers than students!

This community always steps up to teach, to lead and to give. The numerous people who stepped up to the plate two weeks ago to give supplies and drive them up to the tornado ravaged areas of our state are just the most recent example of how this church understands this communal instinct in the parish and in the world.

So often preachers stands up and find themselves saying “There is something wrong with this church, this country, this denomination etc etc. I want to take this opportunity to say there is something right with this church. This parish knows deep down that serving others and giving of your time, talent and treasure are essential parts of Christian life. When the organ broke, it wasn’t Debbie’s problem, it was everyone’s problem and the money was raised by everyone. When the vestry decided we needed a bell to complete the architecture of this church, boom, there is a bell. When I asked for Sunday School teachers, so many people volunteered. Even people that had already paid their dues and raised several teenagers were willing to step in and teach. There is something right at Nativity.

I do want to suggest that there is a growing edge for us here a Nativity too. We are long past the notion of children are to be seen not heard, but we are still not quite sure what to do with them. There are two things I think we, and all Christians in the West, need to work on. The first part is encouraging responsibility and ownership in our youth. We used to live in a society that was overtly Christian, and we could assume that the schools and the nation would instill Christianity in our children. It no longer does, and we can’t assume it will again anytime soon. We need to pick up the slack left by the void in our society and spend extra time encouraging our youth to always think as Christians with an obligation to God and His Church first. The second thing we need to do is to listen more to them. If you want to know what will attract a young adult to your church, ask them directly!

The next time you get to talking to a young person here at church, ask them what they like and don’t like about the church. Ask them what is important about this community. Then take these answers and observations and share them with the rest of the church, and encourage the young person to do so too. Pretty soon these ideas will circulate in our community and we all together, will learn a little more about what it means to follow God.

Easter 3

When seminaries teach people preparing for the priesthood, they are charged by the Episcopal Church to teach them about Holy Scripture. Even though the subject is labeled simply Holy Scripture, all seminaries divide the course work between the Old Testament and the New Testament. This makes sense, as different tools are needed to really get into each Testament. Study of the Old Testament involves knowledge of Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek. On top of the many translation issues, there is also the problem that we Christians do not agree amongst ourselves exactly which books make up the Old Testament. Is it 36, 46 or 49 books? The New Testament field involves knowledge of Greek and Latin, and issues of authorship that involve real detective work.

So, while it makes sense to divide up the academic field because of these issues, there is a big downside to this division. It sometimes seems as if we have two separate books that are in competition for primacy. Some have gone so far as to say that Old Testament is so different, that it can’t be talking about the same God. In the first century after Christ a man named Marcion began telling his Christian followers that the Old Testament was of no use to Christians and that those books should be kicked out of the Church. The Church rightly declared this type of theology called Marcionism heresy, a false teaching, and affirmed the need for (and the holiness) of the Old Testament. Unfortunately for us, most heresies have a long shelf life, and Marcionism is still around in a modified form. Modern Marcionism no longer asks for the expulsion of the Old Testament, but encourages something equally baffling to me. Modern Marcionism tells us that while the Old Testament may be needed in the Church, it must be read in isolation. Modern Marcionism says that the Old Testament has nothing to do with the New Testament, and the Old Testament must be studied in isolation, because it is only about ancient Israel. I encountered this theology at seminary. In the first day of my Old Testament class we were told to “get the New Testament out of her heads” and never to mention Jesus when talking about the Old Testament. The problem with this theology is that it directly contradicts the Tradition and Scripture. From the time of Marcion to today, the Church has spoken of the unity of the Old and New Testaments. We do not have two sacred books, we have one collection called Holy Scripture. Today’s Gospel reading directly contradicts this theology as well. When Jesus encounters two of His disciples on the road to Emmaus baffled by His death, Jesus chastises them for not knowing their Scripture. Jesus tells them “"Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” (Luke 23 NRSV) The Scriptures that Jesus is speaking about is the Old Testament, as the New had not yet been written. A few decades later, St. Paul tells us in the New Testament that it is not possible to fully understand the Old Testament unless we read it in the light of Christ. In his second letter to the Corinthians he tells us: “With a hope like this, we can speak with complete fearlessness; not like Moses who put a veil over his face so that the Israelites should not watch the end of what was transitory. But their minds were closed; indeed, until this very day, the same veil remains over the reading of the Old Testament: it is not lifted, for only in Christ is it done away with. As it is, to this day, whenever Moses is read, their hearts are covered with a veil, and this veil will not be taken away till they turn to the Lord.” (2 Cor 3:13-16 NJB) St. Paul tells us that we cannot understand the Old Testament fully until we read it in the light of the Risen Christ.

When we put this notion that the Old Testament has nothing do with Jesus out of heads, we begin to see Him everywhere, jumping off every page of the Old Testament. We find that there are types, or pre-figurations, of Christ all through it. People and actions that point to what Christ would do and direct prophecies about His life.

We read about Abraham and Sarah, who although they think it impossible, through the power of God, have children that become the Kings and Priests of Israel. This is just as the Blessed Virgin Mary is able to conceive a child through the power of God alone, who becomes the great and final King and High Priest.

In the book of Genesis we also encounter Melchizedek, a High Priest of God who presents Abraham with Bread and Wine. Jesus presents himself to us through bread and wine each Sunday.

Joseph is forsaken by his brothers and deemed useless. God uses this situation of abandonment and procures the health of Joseph’s brothers through the power he gains in Egypt. Centuries later all the people of the world would reject Jesus and abandon Him, and God took this abandonment and turned it around and obtained our health and salvation.

Moses, with his speaking problems, would seem the like the most unlikely leader in the world, yet he leads the rebellious and quarrelsome Children of Israel to the Promised Land. Jesus arises from a town which the religious leaders say no prophet will ever come from. Yet this prophet from an unlikely town is actually the Son of God who will lead all of His rebellious and quarrelsome children to redemption.

The prophet Jonah is thrown off a boat into the sea and swallowed by a fish, in what the people on the boat assume is his death. Yet after three days, the fish spits out Jonah who is still alive and now able to accomplish his God given task. Jesus is crucified and placed dead into the tomb, and everyone expects that to be the end of Jesus, yet on the third day, He rises. The resurrected Christ accomplishes God the Father’s goal and ransoms man from death.

The prophet Isaiah speaks to Israel in their captivity and tells them of the imminent salvation. They think it only means salvation from captivity, but Isaiah prophecies about Christ. He tells us “Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel” (Isa 7:14 KJV) and “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” (Isa 53:3-5 KJV)

The ways in which the Old Testament points to Christ are virtually endless. So what is the point of all this? Seeing the unity of the Holy Scriptures, in the Old and New Testament, points to God’s consistent, ongoing and never failing love for us. Jesus was not a back-up plan after the Law failed to save us. Christ was always to come. The Law and the events of the Old Testament were there as helpers for us. These where the tutor who taught how to live as a people set aside for God. They taught us how to sanctify the daily aspects of our life. These were the means whereby God formed and shaped us. Where He let us grow to the point where in the fullness of time, Christ would come into the world to save it. Seeing the unity in the Holy Scriptures shows us that God is all knowing, and therefore will not fail you or me, or the Church. We may not see clearly where everything is leading to, but God does. He respects our free will and lets us push against Him, yet all the awhile he is shepherding us until the time that He promised comes, and He makes all things new.

Maundy Thursday

Maundy Thursday is a multi layered feast with several things going on it. It marks the beginning of the Easter Triduum, the services that make up the time where we liturgically celebrate and make present Christ’s betrayal, death, burial and resurrection. Today we heard in Exodus about the Passover, and we see how this all adds up to the new Passover for Christians. The Passover is a feast where the Israelites remember their deliverance from slavery. We are embarking on the feasts that mark our deliverance from our self imposed fractured relationship with God.

In the Gospel reading we hear about another scandalous act by Jesus. Jesus, the Son of God, humbles himself and becomes a servant to those who follow him. The washing of His disciple’s feet is a very intimate act. Imagine washing the feet of the person sitting next to you. It is act that can only be done out complete subservience, or as in Jesus’ case, total and complete love.

The third meaning of this feast is that one which resonates deepest with me. This is the day when our Lord Jesus Christ instituted the Most Holy Eucharist. To me, the Eucharist is the be all and end all of Christianity. Christian life flows to and from the altar where Christ’s Body and Blood are made present Sunday after Sunday.

Despite the fact that this is the most important feature of my life in Christ, it was actually one the last things to fall into place for me as I became an active Christian. The first time I went to church after my conversion, I did not go seeking nourishment in the Sacraments, I went there because I felt compelled to go there. That first Sunday I went to church I was not sure what to expect emotionally. I knew what would happen. I knew that there would be a celebration of the Eucharist. To me as a history buff, this made sense. I knew that for most of history Christian worship meant the Eucharist. I knew that the current practice of the Episcopal Church to celebrate the Eucharist every Sunday was not an innovation, but rather a return to what the was the practice of the church before the English Reformation, and even the practice of the Church for the first 50 years after the English Reformation.

Yet during that first service I was intellectually skeptical. The idea that a little wafer and some wine could somehow become the Body and Blood of Christ seemed like a silly medieval superstition to me. But for some reason as that first service progressed, I could feel the emotional pull of it all. I could feel how we were building up to the consecration and distribution of Communion. I went forward and received communion like everyone else, and by the end of that service, I could feel that something was different. I felt fed in a way that was completely new to me. I felt closer to God than I ever had before. Despite all these feelings in my gut, I could not intellectually come to grips with what I had experienced.

Now, at this first service I attended at Trinity Episcopal Church I was seated next to someone whom I noticed. I figured that if God got to drag me kicking and screaming into the Church, I should at least be able to chase after the cute girl sitting next to me…so I did. You get one guess as to who the cute girl was.

So I asked Minerva out for coffee under the auspices of talking about what the Episcopal Church is like for people our age. Well, we she accepted my invitation and we went for coffee and we actually discussed the Church, because I couldn’t think of anything else to start off our conversation with! One of the first things I asked her about was the Eucharist. I told her that it seemed to me that Communion must simply be a bare symbol, a representation of what happened at the Last Supper. Now I knew that when I received communion it felt like far more than just a bare symbol, but I just couldn’t get myself to admit that. Minerva told me without hesitation that as far as she was concerned, it was what the priest said it was, the Body and Blood of Christ.

Now I’m sure I argued with her about this for a bit, but I was actually relieved to hear her say that. Hearing her say that it was actually the Body and blood of Christ made me think what I was feeling might not actually be all that crazy. Her statement validated the emotional pull I felt on Sunday.

So I started really thinking about the Eucharist intellectually. The Prayer Book and the catechism in the back of the Prayer Book say that the Body and Blood and Christ are made present at the Eucharist, but they are a bit vague and leave room for the belief in a metaphorical idea of Christ’s Body and Blood. Now one of the things that had attracted me to Episcopal Church was its understanding of the importance of the early Church and Church Fathers, so I went to the Fathers to see what they thought. It turns out that the early Church and the Fathers whole heartedly believed that the Eucharist really made Christ’s Body and Blood present at the Eucharist. St. Justin Martyr, who lived in the late 100s said: “This food we call the Eucharist, of which no one is allowed to partake except one who believes that the things we teach are true, and has received the washing for forgiveness of sins and for rebirth, and who lives as Christ handed down to us. For we do not receive these things as common bread or common drink; but as Jesus Christ our Savior being incarnate by God's Word took flesh and blood for our salvation, so also we have been taught that the food consecrated by the Word of prayer which comes from him, from which our flesh and blood are nourished by transformation, is the flesh and blood of that incarnate Jesus.” (First Apology, Chap 66)

Now I had some intellectual backing for my emotional pull to Eucharist. The idea that Christ was really present was not a medieval superstition, but in fact a belief that goes back to the early Church.

So now I had the tradition backing this understanding, and the reading we heard from today in no way implies that the Eucharist was a metaphor. All that was left in my good Anglican approach was reasoning. So I thought about the Eucharist for awhile until a revelation hit me. I believed that Jesus was the Son of God, born of a Virgin. I believed the Jesus was crucified and died, and actually rose from the dead three days later. The Eucharist was my stumbling block? It didn’t add up. How could I say that God could break the rules of birth and mortality, but wasn’t capable or willing to perform this one act? It seemed to me, that if I really believed in some of the miraculous events of Christ’s life and His Church, I really had to believe them all. Picking and choosing made no sense. Jesus raising Lazarus is no easier to believe than Him making the bread and wine become his Body and Blood. They both defy rational human understanding. They are both miracles, understood by faith. The God who called out to me and lead me to His Church is a God of miracles. This is how my intellect fell into place. I intellectually realized that Christianity was all about miracles. I knew beyond a doubt that God had miraculously changed my cold atheist heart to the heart of a believer. So I realized that accepting the miracle of the Eucharist took no extra effort, it simply made logical sense. A miracle is a miracle.

But I have to tell you, that after a few months of weekly participation, the whole quest to intellectually prove to myself what the Eucharist was seemed silly. I knew what I was feeling. I knew that I could feel heaven and earth meet at the altar on Sunday. I knew that piece of bread in my hand felt like far more than bread. It felt like healing. It felt like love. It felt like food to satisfy a hunger I couldn’t explain. It was the piece of the puzzle that fit the God shaped hole in my heart. It was the Body of Christ.

In a few moments we will be privileged once again to receive one of the greatest gifts ever given to mankind. The gift of receiving our Lord Jesus Christ’s Body and Blood. Then when we will be reminded at what cost the gift came to us. We will strip the altars making present liturgically the betrayal by Judas. The Word came into the world, but the world knew Him not. He came to his own home, and his people received not. He received betrayal from us all.

Lent 5A

During Lent we encounter death in the appointed prayers in readings and they makes sense when seen in the context of the Liturgical year. During Lent we are preparing for what we know will happen at the end of Holy Week. Jesus will be betrayed by a friend, condemned by the world and put to death in a shameful way. This is only bearable year after year because we know the Resurrection awaits on Easter Sunday.

Lent is also the time were we hear about why death is in the world. In my sermon on the first Sunday of Lent, I talked about how the particular form of death that awaits all humans was not the intention of God. Instead, it was a death that can lead to separation from God because of the barrier we had erected between us and God through the Fall, where we chose our own desires and will over God’s. Once again this is only bearable because we know the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ can free us from this eternal death if we choose God over the world.

These theological explanations of the Lenten season of the means of our reconciliation often satisfy the head, but sometimes do not move the heart. In today’s Gospel we get an insight on all this that cuts through the intellectual barriers. We encounter Jesus Christ, the human that is also fully God, crying. We hear of our Lord and Savior weeping over the death on one man, his beloved friend Lazarus.

In the passage from St John we hear how our Lord is told that his friend Lazarus is gravely ill. In what seems inexcusable to us at first, Jesus decides to stay for awhile. It seems cold until we realize the Jesus already knew what had happened. When the messenger brought the news to Jesus that Lazarus was ill, Jesus knew that in the full day it had taken to get from the Lazarus’ village, he had already died. Jesus doesn’t decide to journey to the tomb of Lazarus for another two days. Jesus may have stayed those two days to prove a point to his disciples, or maybe he stayed put because he was grieving, but for whatever reason he waits, however he eventually decided to go to Lazarus. Jesus’ disciples are not pleased with this because they know that Jesus will surely get himself in trouble if goes back to Judea, where he has infuriated the religious authorities. Eventually, ignoring the risk, they all decide to go to the tomb.

After their one day journey, they arrive to find that Lazarus is indeed dead, and has in-fact been dead for 4 days now. When he arrives he is scolded by Mary, the sister of Lazarus. Jesus, the consummate teacher, assures Mary that not only is there a resurrection of the dead to come, but that He himself is that resurrection, and in Him there is life. Then they bring Jesus to the tomb where Lazarus is laid.

In that moment, when Jesus encounters the stone cold reality that his beloved friend is dead, he weeps. He cries in front of the people he has been teaching and has kept his guard for. The miracle worker is watched by the crowds surrounding Jesus, some loving Him, some hating Him, they watch as the great man cries.

People have pondered over this for centuries. How is that Jesus, when he is fully God can cry? Why would he? Jesus knows that He is the resurrection and the life, so what does He have to get bent out of shape about? John Henry Newman, preaching on this text, told his congregation: Jesus’ “pity, thus spontaneously excited, was led forward to dwell on the various circumstances in man's condition which excite pity. It was awakened, and began to look around upon the miseries of the world. What was it He saw? He saw visibly displayed the victory of death… Here was the Creator of the world at a scene of death, seeing the issue of His gracious handiwork…There had been a day when He had looked upon the work of His love, and seen that it was "very good." Whence had the good been turned to evil, the fine gold become dim? "An enemy had done this" He says.

Newman is pointing out that Jesus’ tears are much more than the tears of a man for a dead friend. They are the response of God to the fallen world. God did not want us to die the way we all did after the Fall. God the Father who created everything to be good, sends His Son to stand in front of the concrete proof that we, God’s children, had turned away from Him and empowered the Devil and his good friend Death to have sway over the world. No parent likes to see their children in trouble, and we were most definitely in trouble.

Jesus knew what he would do. He would raise Lazarus from the dead. This act was more than just a compassionate action of a friend, it was a sign to the world that Death’s time of dominion over men was drawing to a close. Jesus knew he needed to do this to break through the icy hearts of so many around him that would not follow him. Yet, Jesus knew this act would cost him dearly. Newman wrote: “there were other thoughts still to call forth His tears. This marvellous benefit to the forlorn sisters, how was it to be attained? at His own cost... [Jesus] went to raise Lazarus, and the fame of that miracle was the immediate cause of His seizure and crucifixion. This He knew beforehand, He saw the prospect before Him; He saw Lazarus raised; the supper in Martha's house; Lazarus sitting at table; joy on all sides of Him; Mary honouring her Lord on this festive occasion by the outpouring of the very costly ointment upon His feet; the Jews crowding not only to see Him, but Lazarus also; His triumphant entry into Jerusalem; the multitude shouting Hosanna; the people testifying to the raising of Lazarus; the Greeks, who had come up to worship at the feast, earnest to see Him; the children joining in the general joy; and then the Pharisees plotting against Him, Judas betraying Him, His friends deserting Him, and the cross receiving Him.”

Jesus’ raising of Lazarus was more than an act of kindness to one person. It was a sign that He need to perform, even though He knew it would lead to his own Death. Our Lord Jesus, when faced with the prospect of eternal death for all humanity, acts to our benefit, even though it means His life for ours.

As I spent the week pondering this text, I couldn’t help but notice just how different we respond to death than Jesus did. Despite the fact that 2,000 years ago Jesus made it perfectly clear that Death was our enemy and gave His own life to give us eternal life, we don’t really seemed to have noticed. Each year since the resurrection has seen mankind find a new and more efficient way to kill his fellow man. Now in a fallen world I don’t think it’s possible to avoid wars, but yet we seem to get a perverse pleasure out of going to war.

Today, in the Western World we live in a paradox. Thanks to the advances in modern medicine, and longer stretches of peace achieved by better communication, the sight of death is absent from the world for most of us. Today, the only people who regularly see the dead are medical workers, clergy, military personnel and emergency crews. And seemingly to make up for this lack of the dead in front of us, we have created a culture that loves death. We love it in our movies, we love it our games. We love to sell it on the front page our newspaper, and we enshrine its protection in law. And on those rare occasions where we realize how much virtual death and the talk of death scares us, we let the same culture tell us it’s ok. “Don’t be afraid of Death, it was always meant to be there. It’s the Lion King and the Circle of Life.”

The Church doesn’t let us off the hook that easy. Jesus has given us access to everlasting life in Him if we but choose Him. Yet instead of embracing a culture that glories in the sacred miracle of life that the Lord said is good, we spend so much of our time talking about, facilitating, encouraging and mandating Death, the enemy. The enemy that Jesus was so pained to see in our world that He wept and gave His own life to free us from its grip.

I pray that God will bring all of us, especially me, to the moment that Jesus had. The moment when we all weep, when we all realize what we have done, and still are doing to ourselves, by cooperating with death, and not life. I pray that we all come to the point that we have the same tender heart that Christ did, so that when we see our brother and sisters in trouble we are moved with compassion, and willing to do what God wants us to do for them, not what the world tells us to do.