By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector
How do we live and work together as a faith community? Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians is directed to an early Christian community undergoing some growing pains. His letter offers clear instructions on how to correct many aspects of communal life. At the same time, his letter begs certain questions still relevant to Christian communities today, such as:
In today’s passage, he is especially concerned with the community’s practices around the eucharist. In the early Church, the eucharist was more than a simple meal of bread and wine. It was an all out feast, that was more akin to the Dinner Church services led by Jimmy this Lent. People brought what they could, and the food was equally available to all. The eucharist has always been grounded in a theology of God’s abundance, generosity, and love. Except, something had gone awry in Corinth. The Corinthian community had been following Roman and Jewish dining customs of the time, which involved reserving the best seats and finest foods for the most esteemed guests.* This resulted in the poorest and least influential members of the community receiving inferior treatment.* In the verses that precede tonight’s lesson, Paul actually says, “Now in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse” (11:17). In other words, if that’s how you are going to celebrate the eucharist, it would be better if you didn’t bother at all. He goes on to say, “For when the time comes to eat, each of you goes ahead with your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk. What! Do you not have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What should I say to you? Should I commend you? In this matter I do not commend you!” (11:21-22). Ouch. Paul argues that the social stratification happening in Corinth is corrupting the very meaning of the eucharist. This is particularly offensive to him, as he was the one that initially instructed them on the practice of the eucharist. Clearly, they had not understood. In the section of his letter that we heard today, Paul is offering a correction. The practice of the eucharist comes from Jesus himself, when on the night he was betrayed, he took a loaf of bread, gave thanks, and said to his disciples: “This is my body, that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me” (11:24) Then in the same way he took the cup, saying: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me” (11:25). Paul is reminding Christian communities that each time we share in the eucharist, we are sharing in God’s story of love and redemption as made known to us in Christ. He also tries to help the community understand there is a difference between a shared communal meal of the eucharist and eating because we are physically hungry. He tells people if they are so hungry they can’t wait for everyone to have some food, they should eat something at home before coming to worship. In other words, have a snack if you must. Paul also reminds us that prior to sharing the eucharist, we are meant to be examining our conscience, our behaviors, and our relationships. It can be easy to let this element of sharing the eucharist slip our minds. Because this aspect is hard.It’s one reason why this Lent, we’ve been regularly using one of the alternative offertory sentences prior to celebrating the eucharist together: “If you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your neighbor has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your neighbor, and then come and offer your gift.” - Matthew 5:23, 24 Everytime we celebrate the eucharist at Saints James and Andrew, we say: “This is God’s table, and all are welcome here, no exceptions.” What we do not say so straightforwardly is: “This is God’s table, and walking the Way of Love is the hardest work we will ever do. So come; come and be spiritually nourished in our shared communal meal, so we might go out into the world to keep growing, and striving for reconciliation, for justice, mercy, and kindness in God’s world.” Yet another reason why eucharist is not a private meal, but rather a communal meal. We need one another as a community to walk this Way of Love. It’s easy to see why Paul was so upset about the social stratification at play in Corinth, for the ways it disrupts community and creates inequality at God’s table. It’s equally easy to scoff at another community when they make this kind of mistake. What were those foolish Corinthians thinking? Well, probably the same thing churches thought when they started selling pews. Likely some committee in some church looking to raise capital had the great idea that if we sold pews to members, it would help balance the budget. It would allow members to choose their own pew, and to fuss over who might be sitting nearby. But what about those who couldn’t afford a pew? Well, the solution was a poor man’s pew. Our church once had such a pew, located in what is now the Littles’ Corner. While churches eventually began to realize selling pews was bad form in Christian communities, the culture of owning pews persisted long after payment ceased. Many lifelong church goers have had the misfortune of accidentally sitting in ‘someone else’s pew’ and receiving a rude glare or unkind words in return. I’d like to think that kind of behavior has largely gone by the wayside, as we do not actually own pews anymore. (And if this is new information for you, I am sorry to be the bearer of such difficult news this evening.) But I have to say, thank God we stopped such foolishness. Because holding a special place at God’s table for the wealthy and prominent is exactly what Paul is so worked up about in today’s passage. Social stratification can sneak into communal life in all sorts of ways if we do not keep God’s Love as our North Star. Which is likely why Paul makes a long and beautiful speech about love a few paragraphs beyond today’s passage. While 1 Corinthians 13 is often read at weddings, it’s not actually about romantic love. It is about the communal love that guides our life together as the body of Christ. It’s no mistake that the creators of the lectionary choose this reading for Maundy Thursday. This passage helps Christian communities as we walk through Holy Week to remember that the Eucharist grounds our common life together, and that it actually matters how we go about breaking bread as a community. Whatever our social status may be out in the world, at God’s Table, we are siblings in Christ, cherished and beloved children of God, equally welcomed. Because the Eucharist is inherently about God’s love:
God sent Jesus to teach us what it means to love. The eucharist was one of the primary tools that Jesus gave us, to guide and ground us in God’s love as a community; sustaining us as we strive to love and serve God’s world. As was, the footwashing. I’ve been your priest long enough that y’all know I love the foot washing ceremony. I know we all have insecurities about our feet, and our bodies in general. These insecurities make us uncomfortable, and the thought of others washing our feet can leave us feeling vulnerable in ways we’d prefer not to feel vulnerable. But that was Jesus’ point. In community, we are meant to be vulnerable with one another, to take risks, and help one another to grow in love. Doing so strengthens the body of Christ and our mission. There is a reason, this is the action focused on in John’s gospel on the eve of Jesus’ arrest. Jesus was teaching his disciples that loving one another means serving one another. But we can’t serve one another if we are not willing to be served. Many of us are eager to jump in and do the serving. We will get our hands dirty. We will go where God sends us. At the same time, the idea that God may be sending us to have our feet washed may make us deeply uncomfortable. The idea of allowing our feet, with all the insecurities and vulnerabilities they represent, may leave us wanting to say thanks, but no thanks. And again, that is the point. To walk the Way of Love, we need to be willing to serve and be served. I’m not saying we need to be there today, tomorrow, or the next day. If you are not ready to partake in the foot washing this evening, that is okay. What I am saying is that God longs for us to know what it means to serve and be served in community. We will spend our whole lives growing and being changed by God’s reconciling and redemptive Love. So, this night, this particular worship, is especially for the Church. To gather in our local worshiping communities, and reflect on our communal life:
Amen. * Jewish Annotated New Testament, p. 341.
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By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector What are your childhood memories of Palm Sunday? I spent my middle and high school years worshiping at the former St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Augusta, Maine.* On Palm Sunday, we would gather at the Parish House with our palms, and process across the sidewalk into the church. Much like we did today, due to the ice, the crucifer would lead us in one of those curious figure eight processions, round and round the sanctuary, until finally we would make our way to our pews. I remember sitting in my pew, turning my palm into a cross, and curious neighbors would hand me theirs, so I might do the same with their palms. Looking back, I now recognize those neighbors were really compassionate grandparent figures, who could easily spot a kid in great need of something to do at a particularly lengthy Sunday service. Anyone who has ever sat next to me knows, I’m not very good at sitting still. The words of the liturgy and the readings would soak into me, even as I was busy fidgeting with palms. But when it was time for the gospel, things were startlingly different. Our parish celebrated Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday, where the congregation would turn the Passion gospel into a dramatic reading. There was a bone chilling moment where the entire congregation would shout together, ‘Crucify him, crucify him’. Many of us grew up with similar experiences on Palm Sunday. In recent years, here at James and Andrew, we have joined other churches in a conscious shift away from celebrating Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday. The primary hope is that instead of trying to fit all of Holy Week into a single service, instead we will gather daily as a community to give our full attention to each momentous element of Holy Week. To be certain, this is less convenient. Possibly a disastrous choice at a time when our culture increasingly values convenience. That said, when has following the Way of Love ever been convenient? In fact, it is largely rather inconvenient. Choosing to follow Jesus on the Way of Love forces us to regularly examine our motivations and actions, to strive for justice and peace, and to genuinely care for the wellbeing of all people and God’s creation. Yet there are still other reasons to hold off on a dramatic reading of the Passion. At our winter clergy day, Bishop Fisher and his staff brought in Dr. Daniel Joslyn-Siemiatkoski, who serves as Kraft Family Professor and Director of the Center for Christian-Jewish Learning at Boston College. He is also an Episcopal priest, serving the Diocese of Massachusetts as Ecumenical & Interreligious Officer.** He is deeply engaged in helping the Church examine and rethink how we talk about Jews, particularly within our lectionary, liturgy, and preaching. During his time with us, he addressed how we, as the Church, have historically engaged in antisemitism by the way we use certain texts in Holy Week. He strongly argues that how the Church speaks about Jews in worship shapes how the Church stands with Jews in public. Professor Joslyn-Siemiatkoski reminded us that the Church has long promoted supersessionism, which is the belief that the Church has replaced Israel as God’s chosen people.*** According to Professor Joslyn-Siemiatkoski supersessionism is woven into our beliefs in three core ways:
He goes on to say that when these beliefs go uncorrected, it misshapes and misunderstands Judaism as a religion that:
These anti-Judaism beliefs lead to instances of anti-semitism. In particular, Holy Week has historically been a time of rhetorical and physical violence for Jews. While Jews and Christians have begun the long work of reconciliation, the Church still has extensive work to do. Part of this work is taking a closer look at our liturgical practices during Holy Week. Earlier I mentioned there might be another reason to hold off on the dramatic reading of the Passion. In the Passion narratives, the crowd is understood to be Jewish. This means the narratives portray Jews as the ones crying out, ‘Crucify him!’, and in Matthew’s version, the crowd cries out: ‘His blood be on us and our children!’ (27:24-26). These readings portray Jewish leaders as though they carry a greater responsibility for Jesus' death than Pontious Pilate, when in reality, the Jewish people are subjects of an oppressive Roman Empire. Even the Jewish authorities who act as intermediaries are subject to Rome’s power and might. This means throughout history we have placed responsibility for the death of Jesus on an oppressed people, instead of their oppressor, the Roman Empire and the only person in the room holding all the actual power, Pontius Pilate. Above and beyond this fact, are the complexities we add in when we, as Christians, play act at being Jewish for a dramatic reading of the Passion. We get to experience that bone chilling moment when we cry out ‘Crucify him’ and feel, for a moment, what it's like to be responsible for Jesus’ suffering and death. But we are playing at being Jewish; a people that have historically been oppressed, and when the service is over, we go back out into the world as Christians. How is that appropriate, when as Christians, our religion sits so adjacent to power, that it has been swept up in its own oppressive and disturbing version of nationalism? Professor Joslyn-Siemiatkoski begs the question of us: Is the drama worth it? I would have to say no. Professor Joslyn-Siemiatkoski suggests one of the solutions to this challenge is to separate out Palm and Passion Sunday, as has been our custom in recent years. Good Friday holds its own complexities, which we will tend to later this week. Each year a gospel lesson is assigned for the ‘Liturgy of the Palms’ that we shift to our primary gospel lesson on Palm Sunday. Before we take a closer look at that text, and I promise, I don’t have a whole other sermon, I want to lift up something that theologians Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan observe about the Passion in their book The Last Week.**** They observe that the word ‘passion’ means more than simply ‘suffering’; it also means what a person is passionate about. These two interpretations play against one another in the life of Jesus. They write: “The first passion of Jesus was the kingdom of God, namely, to incarnate the justice of God by demanding for all a fair share of a world belonging to and ruled by the covenantal God of Israel. It was that first passion for God’s distributive justice that led inevitably to the second passion by Pilate’s punitive justice. Before Jesus, after Jesus, and, for Christians, archetypically in Jesus, those who live for nonviolent justice die all too often from violent injustice.” When we bear all this in mind, it helps make sense of the events in our gospel lesson.**** Jesus is not just randomly asking for the disciples to score him a colt, so he has a sweet ride into Jerusalem. He is actively planning a political demonstration. Jesus knows that on the other side of Jerusalem, the Roman governor Pontius Pilate was leading his own imperial procession into the city. Rome was always ready to showcase their might, particularly when they wanted to squelch the possibility of revolt. Only twenty-six years earlier, there had been a rebellion in Jerusalem following Herod the Great’s death. When Rome finally quelled the revolt, they punished the rebels by crucifying two thousand rebels en masse. It was customary for the Roman governor to arrive in Jerusalem in anticipation of any major Jewish festivals, particularly for Passover, which celebrated the Jewish people’s liberation from Egypt. The Kingdom of Caesar was on full display and it told the oppressed: Stay in your place. Yet the Kingdom of Caesar stood in direct opposition to everything the Kingdom of God stands for. And so, with the help of his followers, Jesus organized an entirely different procession of peasants that took place at the exact same time, on the other side of Jerusalem. Jesus entered Jerusalem on a colt, stirring to mind for the Jewish people the words of the prophet Zechariah, who foretold of God’s king who would bring peace: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim and the warhorse from Jerusalem; and the battle-bow shall be cut off, and he shall command peace to the nations; his dominion shall be from sea to sea, and from the River to the ends of the earth” (Zechariah 9:10). All those years ago, two processions entered Jerusalem reminding the crowds of two very different ways of being, two very different kinds of kingdoms, and two very different dreams of what this world can be. There is the Way of Love and the Way of the Might. This Holy Week, this one precious life: Which Way will we follow? Which Way will we walk? Amen. * https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Mark%27s_Episcopal_Church_(Augusta,_Maine) ** https://www.diomass.org/news/diocesan-news/new-ecumenical-interreligious-officer-appointed *** The points made in this paragraph and the subsequent two paragraphs are directly taken from the Rev. Dr. Daniel Joslyn-Siemiatkoski talk and power point presentation on ‘Engaging Anti-Judaism in the Texts of Holy Week’ given at the Diocese of Western Massachusetts Winter Clergy Day on February 1, 2024. ****The points made in this paragraph are referencing Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan book, The Last Week, p. vii-viii, 2-30. By Julie Carew, Lay Preacher Immanuel, God with us, thank you for this glimpse into your last days physically here on earth. Help us to seek you and see you here with us, today and everyday. Amen. As a musician and a huge fan of music in general, I’m always intrigued when a “secular” artist puts out a song about God or about faith. One of these songs came out just as I was beginning college and introduced me to a singer of whom I would be a longtime fan, and who I saw live again just last year. The song is called “One of Us” and the singer is Joan Osborne. The song was written by one of her bandmates and was the first single released from her debut album, Relish. This song hit at a time when I was really seeking God, trying to figure out what that meant, piecing together what I had learned as a kid at church and what I was experiencing myself, away at school. In “One of Us”, we are invited to imagine what it would be like to have God living among us as a human. One of the verses in the song is: “If God had a face what would it look like? And would you want to see If seeing meant that you would have to believe In things like heaven and in Jesus and the Saints And all the prophets??” I really think that’s an interesting question for what we read this morning in John. Imagine with me for a moment, the scene here. Jesus has fed the 5,000, healed the blind man, raised Lazarus, Mary has anointed him, and yes, even though it is not yet Palm Sunday for us, ridden into Jerusalem on a donkey. He is causing a scene, drawing all kinds of attention and the Pharisees are really getting concerned. Just before we pick up the story in verse 20, the Pharisees are saying to one another, “You see that you can do nothing; look, the world has gone after him.” And then some Greeks come up to Philip asking to see Jesus. The first time we met Philip was in John 1 and as a new disciple, he was invited by Jesus to “Follow” him and he then invited others to “Come and See”. It seems like this is bringing things around, full circle, for Philip as he now has the chance to lead these Greeks to Jesus. Philip is a Greek name- Bethsaida, his hometown was governed by Philip, son of Herod, and was also the hometown of Andrew and Peter and they are the only 3 disciples who do not have Semitic names. Perhaps this is why these Greeks approached Philip as the person who might help them on their quest to see Jesus. The Greek word used here is ὁράω, (hor-ah'-o) which means to see not just with the eyes, but with the mind, to behold. These Greeks are looking to fully experience Jesus. We don’t know who these Greeks are, but we can make some guesses as to why they come into John’s narrative at this point and what that means. It seems as though their request is significant to Jesus, that it is perhaps a message to him that his teachings have gone out beyond his known followers, and may be (at least a part of) why at this point he says, “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified”. We have seen him say the opposite- that the time had not yet come- several times before this point in his ministry. As Jesus shifts to talking about the time that has come and what that means, we know there are those (we hear of a few- Judas and Peter, for instance) who don’t want to see this part- either it doesn’t align with what they expected or hoped, or the timing is not right and they’re not ready. When we seek Jesus, whether that’s through Scripture or prayer or in guidance from others who know him, are we open to hearing what he might actually say? Do we approach Jesus with our own expectations of what the answer should be, or are we looking for and waiting on his answer? - Jesus does not address these Greeks directly, and we’re actually not clear from the narrative if they are there when he is speaking, but he continues in verse 24, ”Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” I haven’t ever grown wheat, but growing things (or at least trying to) is something I have enjoyed since I was a child, and I have fond memories of working in our little garden plot with my mom. Gardening is an adventure that is full of life and death, of making decisions based on what might be best and hoping that it really is. I have always worked towards wasting as little as possible and making sure that I use or give away as much as I can. Over the years, I think I have gotten pretty good at managing that between eating, sharing, preserving, dehydrating and freezing, but the one crop that always catches me by surprise is the green beans. I LOVE fresh green beans, (and so does our dog, Hazel), but it seems like I NEVER get them all, and there are days I simply don’t have time to go pick, so inevitably, there are plenty that I miss or that I can’t get to before they get too big and tough. A couple of years ago, I decided to stop worrying about getting them all at the perfect time and just dry the ones that had gotten too big and use them for planting the next year. These beans are such a beautiful color and so smooth and perfect-looking, and yet, they’re not intended to be made into jewelry or hung on a wall, they’re meant to be buried, to be put in the dirt and be transformed, not to be seen again in their current form. And when we do that with a bean, we are rewarded with SO MANY more beans. BUT, if I hadn’t let some of them go, or if I picked them and tried to serve them to my family to eat (or try to eat…) I wouldn’t have anywhere near as many to plant the next year. Jesus is about to complete his human circle of life, and yet, he knows there’s more to it than the disciples can immediately see. I see this as a reminder that sometimes we have to let go of what we desire or hope for immediately in order to experience abundance in the future. And that sometimes, many times, we have no idea what the future holds, or what we risk in letting go of what we have in the right now for just the hope of something better. And even harder than that, we often don’t have the choice, we lose things we thought we’d always have and we have to let them go, knowing we may never understand why or for what purpose. Jesus knows firsthand that death and destruction cannot be avoided, it’s part of being a human, but he also knows that new life will come from it. He is preparing his followers to lose him, twice- in death and in his ascension, but with the promise of a new life with him. Jesus continues on, “'Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” In imagining this scene, I really empathize with those around Jesus who aren’t getting any of this. One sentence after another that they/we could sit with for quite awhile and really consider, and now this one, and several others to follow. Why would they lose a life they love and keep forever a life they hate? They are trying to figure out what it means to serve and follow, and it must be overwhelming and confusing. In her commentary about this passage, Mary Hinkle Shore says Jesus is, “encouraging others to follow his lead in hating/rejecting this world’s definition of life as a small and isolated existence”. He knows they have left everything they know to follow him and all along, he’s flipping everything familiar upside down, trying to help them see that serving him and thus being honored by God is often very different than what the world would say is what they should be doing. Where do you feel this tension in your life? Where do you feel like the pull and priorities of the world are different from those we see and hear about from Jesus? - John made a point that this gospel is for ALL those who want to see Jesus. He tells the story of Jesus, as an eyewitness, in a way that gets right to the heart of Jesus’ ministry. At the conclusion of Jesus’ human life, in John 19:20 we read that the inscription on the cross was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek- the only Gospel to point this out. Here, in John 12, we see that the conclusion of Jesus’ time here in a human body is perhaps ushered in by the appearance of an “outside” people. And near the end of today’s reading, in verse 32, we read, “'And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” The Jesus portrayed by John here doesn’t question God, he is troubled, but he is seeking God’s Glory. As humans, he and we are well-acquainted with loss, sickness, sadness and death. He’s looking ahead to the ways he will be lifted up- on the cross, from death and back to God completing the circle of his human life and hoping that with these events it will become clearer to those who seek him, what difference it makes. He emphasizes that this is happening for ALL people, not just those who have seen him up close, those who knew him then, or even those who know him right now. What does this mean for us? We are likely very familiar with and can easily access the whole story. And maybe sometimes, it’s easy to take it as a given and not really see what Jesus is showing us here. As we look to next week, Palm Sunday, the triumphal entry that quickly goes so far away from what everyone was expecting and hoping for, and into Holy Week, I wonder what it would mean for us to “see” Jesus. Are we looking for him with anticipation, do we really want to see him and believe him? Are we letting these events seep into our busy lives, and taking the time to seek him? Do we really want to hear what he has to say to us? How might Jesus lead us to serve him, to follow him in ways that help others to see him too? Amen Sources: The history and archeology of Bethsaida Kristen Sibold University of Northern Iowa Strong’s Concordance at Biblehub.com Working preacher commentary, Karoline Lewis Working Preacher Commentary, Mary Hinkle Shore By Ben Cluff, Lay Preacher Numbers 21:4-9 Ephesians 2:1-10 John 3:14-21 Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22 May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts, be acceptable in thy site, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Good morning - Here we are at this 4 th Sunday of Lent, known as Laetare Sunday. According to the Episcopal Church glossary, the naming of this Sunday as Laetare Sunday, “is derived from the opening words of the Latin Mass, “Rejoice Jerusalem, Laetare Jerusalem, from Isaiah 66:10. The glossary goes on to state, “ The church is called to joyful anticipation of the victory to be won. This joyful theme provides lightning from the penitential emphasis of Lent. Since the 13 th Century, the celebrant of the Eucharist has been permitted to wear rose-colored vestments which express the change of the tone in the Lenten observance, Rejoice, Celebration! - on that note; Let’s take stock, for a moment of our journey so far this Lent; We began with Jesus, upon being baptized, being driven into the wilderness to face temptation for 40 days and 40 nights. This is followed by Jesus informing his closest that he must undergo great suffering and he will be rejected by elders, chief priests, and scribes. And when Peter takes issue with this, Jesus rebukes him, telling Peter, “You're setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.” And then, last week, we find Jesus expressing great anger and frustration at the marketplace and money changers in the temple. And now, here at this 4th Sunday of Lent, we encounter God’s expression of Divine Love, shown through Jesus' presence here on earth. In our gospel reading today, Jesus makes reference to our Old Testament reading, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” This link between today’s gospel and Moses' experience in the wilderness has prompted me to reflect on this age-old relationship between God and us humans, here on earth. It certainly has been a back and forth, at times contentious relationship. God’s presence has been constant, and we, I mean the collective we, us humans, have participated in this relationship so diversely. Sometimes we have behaved like petulant children, other times we have behaved as if we are consciously aware that we are recipients of God’s Grace, and at other times we seem so aware that we are recipients of God’s Divine Love, only to return our behavior back to that of petulant children. For example, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” and the turning to Moses - “pray Moses, to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.” And God provides a solution, through the bronze serpent. This is just one of so many of our experiences of trying to get our relationship right with God - this ongoing experience of always striving, falling back, striving again - And God’s provision of a variety of means to us, of experiencing God as accessible - for example the rainbow following the flood, the leadership and care of Moses, the covenant with Abraham, and today on Laetare Sunday, we rejoice and celebrate Jesus life, his death, and resurrection and how all of that makes it possible for us to experience God and God's Love as accessible to us. I want to pause here for a moment and invite us to consider the concept of incarnation. There is a book I have found to be a wonderful resource, it is titled “Making Sense of the Christian Faith” by David J. Lose. The format of the book can seem a little hokey; it is a back and forth, question and answer conversation between two people. I would like to offer some selections from that conversation: Author David Lose writes, “Christians confess that, in Jesus, God became human and took on our life and our situation in the world - showing our hopes and dreams, vulnerability and limitations. This is what Christians call the Doctrine of Incarnation.” Incarnation comes from two Latin words, in meaning into and carne meaning flesh, incarnation literally meaning into flesh. David Lose provides two stories that attempt to portray this notion of incarnation, the first comes from Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard; “He describes the incarnation as being like a royal king who fell in love with a lowly serving girl. How could the king earn her love? He couldn’t do it by a show of power, or she would be intimidated. And he couldn’t just pour riches on her or decree that she was his equal. Then she might just love him for what he could give her, not for who he really is. So He Became a humble servant like her in order to win her genuine love. For Kierkegaard, that helped explain some of incarnation. It tells us why God became human, even if we can’t understand how. “So Kierkegaard thought that God became human in order to win our love.” “Right” “But God wanted our love for the right reasons. God became human so we wouldn’t love God because we were afraid or just for what God can do for us, but we’d love God for who and what God really is.” “And the other story?” “We are not sure who wrote this story. It is about a man, a farmer who never went to church, even though his wife did regularly. Well, one cold and blustery Christmas Eve, after his wife had again pleaded with him but couldn’t convince him to come with her to church, he was reading comfortably by the fire when he heard a thudding against the windows of their house. He looked out and saw that sparrows trying to get out of the cold, harsh wind and attracted by the light and heat inside, were crashing into the windows of the house. He covered the windows, but that didn’t work. So he decided to put on his coat, gloves, and hat and go out and open his barn doors wide, so the birds could find sanctuary there. But they wouldn’t come in. He put the lights on, but they didn’t come. He spread a trail of cracker crumbs, but they wouldn’t follow. He tried to shoo them in, but that only frightened them more. If only, he thought, I could become a sparrow, for a little while, I could lead them into the barn to safety. And at that moment, he realized that’s what Christmas Eve - the story of God being born as a human - was all about.” “So in this story God comes to us in a form we can recognize and understand, in order to communicate to us and lead us to safety.” “Right. It’s about the gap between humans and God that God decides to close in order to help us.” end quote and thanks to David Lose for these stories. I continue to be amazed, struck by the humanity of Jesus, the earthiness of Jesus. Look at our readings this Lent - temptation, being misunderstood, anger and frustration. Jesus is constantly faced with the inherent tension between the secular and the spiritual. The profound secular context of balance and imbalance of power and control in the society in which he lived. Being understood and misunderstood. Being faced with incredible temptation and experiencing grief. Requiring times of solitude and quiet in order to rest, replenish, reflect, and commune. These human aspects of Jesus time on earth, these are our struggles, our temptations, our human experience. Jesus shares them, participates in them and all the while provides guidance, counsel, and comfort for us. Jesus is the human embodiment of the power of unconditional love, without exception and so very importantly, the means by which we are able to experience God in our lives. As a result of being with us, among us, and yet so very different from us, we are able to realize that God knows our struggles. I am sure we are all able to identify times in our lives when God has seemed so very large and so very distant, and so very separated from our daily lives, our daily struggles. And our journey back, or the change in our perception, or our change in being, has so often been through our re-connection with the notion that Jesus' life on earth guides us back to God. God knows our human struggles and we know this because of Jesus' time on earth; and this, when we are open to it, proves to us, once again, that God is not so large or too distant or so very separate from our daily lives. And if we are open to it, we know through this experience that we are loved and God is there for us and it is by grace-and unmerited love and favor of God. When our conscious contact with God seems good, we become aware of the notion that we are of value simply because we exist - the Grace of God. We are all of value because we exist - no exception. As we live in our secular world; as we encounter the inherent tension between the secular and the spiritual - the balance and imbalance of power and control in our lives - of being understood and misunderstood- of being faced with temptation and grief, of feeling the need for rest, replenishment, time for reflection and communion - We can know that we will always be loved and there will always be a safety net, so to speak, because of God’s Grace. The evidence of that is so poignantly provided us in the life of Jesus on earth. On those days when we are able to be secure in this knowledge, we are able to participate in this world, with those around us, those we know and those we we don’t, in a manner wherein love wins, fear is at bay, all is well. Our preservation, our rescue, our salvation is provided to us through the small details of Jesus life and the large events of his life, death, and resurrection. Laetare Sunday! Rejoice! Celebration! For God so loved the world that he gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him may not perish, but may have eternal life. Amen. Making Sense of the Christian Faith by David J. Lose |
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