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By Rev. Heather Blais,
Today’s first reading is from the Acts of the Apostles, the second part of a two volume work written by the author of Luke’s Gospel.* It reads a bit like a travel log of the apostles, narrating the church’s expansion. What began as a small group of Jesus’ followers in Jerusalem will ultimately spread throughout the Roman Empire. The first twelve chapters are largely focused on events in Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria, and pay close attention to Peter’s work preaching, healing, and in a section we’ll focus on today, Peter’s baptism of one of the first Gentile converts. The remainder of the text shifts its attention to Paul, and his missionary activity in present day Turkey and Greece, his arrest and interactions with religious and government officials, including the Emperor in Rome. The theme in today’s section is the offer of salvation to all persons. In simpler terms, it is about:
On the day of Ascension Jesus tells the disciples, “...you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8 NRSV). When Jesus tells them this, they have no idea this will mean offering a message beyond the Jewish community these apostles had spent their entire life grounded in. Yet that is exactly what we see playout in today’s lesson, where after an unexpected experience, Peter finds himself arguing, “God shows no partiality” (Acts 10:34 NRSV).* Like so many other instances in the two thousand plus years of the Church - there is a bit of controversy. Our story begins with a Roman centurion named Cornelius (Acts 10:1-8).** As an officer of the Roman army, he would have worked alongside other centurions in leading a group of several hundred soldiers. Cornelius was described as devout and God-fearing. One day at three in the afternoon, when it was common to prayer, Cornelius had a vision of an angel.*In this vision, Corneilus is affirmed for his prayer practice and financial generosity to those in need. He is then instructed to send some folks to Joppa to retrieve a man named Peter, with very specific instructions on where precisely they would find him. This specificity would have been proof to both men that this event was beyond either of them, and was truly an act of divine intervention and guidance. Meanwhile, Peter was staying with a local tanner who lived by the sea and he went up onto the roof to pray at mid-day, which was not a customary prayer time (Acts 10:9-13). He grew hungry, and while a meal was being prepared he fell into a trance. He sees a large sheet - picture a picnic blanket - with all kinds of animals, reptiles, and birds. Then a voice, the divine presence, telling Peter to get up, kill, and eat. Now, this would have been mildly disturbing to Peter, who as a faithful Jew honored his faith’s dietary practices. In Leviticus and Deuteronomy, there is a very specific outline of what is considered clean and unclean foods (Leviticus 11/ Deuteronomy 14). For example, in Leviticus 11, God instructs Moses and Aaron that the Israelites should not eat: camels; hyraxes - which are a robust guinea pig like creature; rabbits; pigs; shellfish; eagles; vultures; hawks; owls; storks; herons; weasels; rats; lizards; and other creatures. The purification rituals required after becoming unclean were tedious, laborious, and often kept one apart from the rest of the household or community. Therefore, it was really prevented at all costs. So to have this divine encounter where God is seemingly instructing Peter to kill and consume any kind of creature, was alarming to say the least (Acts 10:15-23). Peter insists, “By no means, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean” (Acts 10:15). But the voice repeated itself three times - “What God has made clean, you must not call profane” (Acts 10:15-16). As Peter puzzled over the meaning, the Spirit instructed him that some people were now arriving, and he was to go with them without hesitation (Acts 10:15-23). In light of these guests, and their reason for coming, Peter begins to understand what his trance was really about. While in reality Jews and Gentiles did eat together, it was a common perception amongst Gentiles that Jews and Gentiles could not eat together.* They knew they were viewed as unclean because they ate foods that were seen as profane by Jews. Yet in this divine encounter, the sheet full of a rich variety of godly creatures, symbolizes all of humanity - Jew and Gentile. In Peter’s divine ‘aha moment’, God shows him that we should not call anyone profane or unclean (Acts 10:28). And it is what emboldens him to go with Cornelius' servants. Upon their arrival, Peter finds Cornelius and several folks assembled (Acts 10:24-48). They are eager to hear what God has to say through Peter. Peter then preaches to the gathered body, telling them the story of Jesus Christ, the transformative power of God’s love, and the calling of the apostles and the Church. While he was still speaking, much like the day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit fell on all those who heard. They began speaking in tongues and all were astounded. Peter, recognized the Spirit as a marker of baptism, and called for water to baptize these new believers. Meanwhile, this event astounded the believers described in the text as ‘the circumcised’. You might be wondering what circumcision has to do with anything. Up until this point, if someone was moved by the story of Jesus, they would have begun the process of converting to Judaism, which for men included being circumcised. Yet the events that had just taken place called into question - what Jewish practices still needed to be honored to follow Jesus? The excerpt of these events that we have in today’s lesson is a report that Peter makes to the ‘circumcised believers’ about these events. This audience would have included folks who were Jewish from birth and those who had joined the Jesus Movement up until Cornelius’ conversion. It meant all of a sudden there were potentially two classes of new Christians:
Have you ever noticed whenever a process is simplified, it always stirs up trouble for those who did it the older way? The Church in Jerusalem was pretty troubled that Peter would break bread with Cornelius and his household. Not because the Jewish people were against the Gentiles, but rather because it appeared at first as though Peter was disregarding the practices of their faith. So before the Church in Jerusalem, Peter reviewed everything that had taken place-- Cornelius' vision, Peter’s divine encounter, the work of the Spirit, and the baptism of Cornelius’ household (Acts 11:1-16). He summarizes his rationale by saying, “If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?” (Acts 11:17). “When they heard this, they were silenced” (Acts 11:18). In that silence, the Church in Jerusalem seemed to recognize, at least momentarily, that this was the work of God, opening the Jesus Movement to the Gentiles. The passage ends with the Church praising God. Maybe you are wondering why any of this still matters. Well, because, as the Church, we continue to struggle with similar questions today:
Or maybe more on point for us today is,
Here at James and Andrew we proclaim with joy and love: This is God’s table, and all are welcome here, no exceptions. Molly and I are repeatedly told that this is a very meaningful practice. Except, the official teaching of the Episcopal Church is that one must be baptized to receive communion. Depending on what parish you attend, that practice may be enforced. We are one of many communities that chooses to practice what is often called ‘open communion’ because we believe Christ’s radical hospitality and love supersedes some traditions and practices - though admittedly it is a tight rope and a challenging path to navigate. Particularly because it is not a practice embraced by our entire tradition, and we generally like to make decisions as an entire Church body. The general idea behind open communion is that it doesn’t matter how one first comes to Christ - it might be through baptism or it might be through receiving communion. Many folks are in discernment, seeking. The belief behind open communion is that if one experiences Christ, that peace that surpasseth all understanding, in receiving the bread and the wine, they will eventually make the next practical step in Walking the Way of Love by becoming baptized, joining the body of Christ. It is also a point of hospitality to ecumenical and interfaith friends who worship with us in certain circumstances, and in those instances baptism would never be expected. This would be more in keeping with the way Christ broke bread and shared with all of the gathered people. Do you think Jesus really inspected all 5,000 people’s belief systems before offering them fish and bread?Communities that practice open communion are saying, we want to embody what we see Jesus doing every time he breaks bread and shares a meal with the gathered people. We are echoing Peter’s experience of sitting down with those he would not customarily break bread with for the sake of Christ’s bigger table. Because when we break bread together, barriers are broken, relationships are built, and lives are changed. At an upcoming General Convention, likely in 2024, the Episcopal Church will once again discuss the practice of open communion - this idea that all are welcome to receive communion. One colleague recently reflected that in our denomination’s history this particular conversation has been more controversial than women’s ordination or same sex marriage. And given how loud we were on those issues, that kind of blows my socks off. Time will tell where our Church lands, but I have to hope with enough time we will eventually land in a place of radical welcome as a denomination. Sometimes the Church has even created barriers that were not ever there to begin with - such as the case with individual communion cups.*** Professor Hilary Bogert-Winkler of Sewanee advised the Episcopal Church on the history of individual communion cups in an article that was in circulation during the early months of the pandemic. She shared that in the late nineteenth century the common cup began to be seen as a place of germ transmission and individual communion cups were the result of the sanitary reform movement. Though the movement began with seemingly innocent origins, there were racial overtones that caused irreparable harm to the Church. Bogert-Winkler writes: “The rise of the sanitary reform movement and debates about individual communion cups accompanied increasing immigration and the growth of the American middle class. White middle class Americans sought to establish boundaries between themselves and their broader, increasingly diverse society, in part, through attempts to ensure physical purity. In other words, “cleanliness is next to godliness” became a way to equate physical health with moral superiority, and to exclude certain members of society seen as “unclean”—primarily Blacks, immigrants, Indigenous people, the poor, and other social outcasts–from the ideal community envisioned by the white middle class.” This is why in our diocese we were strongly discouraged from using individual communion cups during the pandemic. We chose instead to engage in spiritual communion, waiting, achingly so at times, for when we could share the common cup again. And thank God at least some churches avoided the racially charged practice of individual communion cups. Otherwise, we would not have Michael Curry as our Presiding Bishop. When his Baptist father went to church with his Episcopal mother for the first time, he hung back when she went up to communion. He wondered whether the priest would really allow her to drink from the same cup as the white folks. When she did sip from the cup, and then it continued to be sipped by the folks who came next, his father was blown away. Michael Curry’s father would say, “Any church in which Blacks and Whites drink out of the same cup knows something about the Gospel that I want to be part of.” **** The Gospel, again and again, is about building a bigger table. Whether that’s Peter and Cornelius, Jews and Gentiles, Baptized and Unbaptized, Blacks and Whites, Rich and Poor, Red States and Blue States; Low churches and High churches; the Powerful and the Marginalized; and so on and so forth. God is calling us to always be building a bigger table. So, as we head back into the world today, I’d invite us to keep reflecting:
* This introductory paragraph draws on commentary written by Gary Gilbert in The Jewish Annotated New Testament, edited by Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler, published by Oxford University Press in 2011, pg 197, also to single references on the following pages in order of reference: 198, 224, 204, 219. ** If the first sentence references scripture, that references scripture touched on throughout that paragraph. *** https://www.anglican.ca/wp-content/uploads/Bogert-Winkler.pdf **** Michael Curry, Love is the Way: Holding on to Hope in Troubling Times, pg 35.
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By Rev. Heather J. Blais
Have you ever wondered how many sacraments we have in the Episcopal Church? If so, this is your lucky day. Our tradition affirms there are two sacraments and five sacramental rites. They have two key distinctions. First, sacraments were given by Christ to the Church, whereas sacramental rites were instituted by the Church through the guidance of the Holy Spirit. (1/ 2) Second, sacraments are understood as essential for all Christians, while sacramental rites are not. (1) In other words, some people will be called to partake in one or more of these rites, but it’s not imperative for all Christians. Having covered the two sacraments in previous sermons, we’ll spend the next few teaching sermons getting better acquainted with the five sacramental rites. These are: confirmation; marriage; ordination; reconciliation of a penitent - a form of personal confession; and unction - better known as anointing. (1) Today our focus will be on confirmation and marriage. (2) Confirmation Our tradition affirms there are two important things happening in the sacramental rite of confirmation. First and foremost, “Confirmation is the rite in which we express a mature commitment to Christ…” (1) The rite of confirmation exists in several mainline denominations, primarily because these traditions practice infant baptism. Meaning, parents have chosen to proclaim to the child, themselves, and the universal Church that we want to raise our child to walk in love in the Christian tradition. However, this means the child does not get to choose that for themselves, making the ritual of confirmation an important rite of passage. It is the opportunity for youth and adults to choose for themselves: I want to walk in love with Christ, and I affirm the values and beliefs of this particular tradition. All of this means, it is vitally important that confirmation be a choice, a calling, and not something young people are pressured into doing by parents or other adults. In Lauren Winner’s book, Still, she describes how a minister responded to a young person who felt unsure whether they could go through with confirmation. (3)They said, “What you promise when you are confirmed…is not that you will believe this forever. What you promise when you are confirmed is that that is the story you will wrestle with forever.” (3) The second significance of confirmation is that in it we, “...receive strength from the Holy Spirit through prayer and the laying on of hands by a bishop.” (1). Confirmation is one of the two sacramental rites that require a bishop. Our friends Scott Gunn and Melody Wilson Shobe, describe why in their book, Walk in Love: Episcopal Beliefs & Practices: “Bishops can trace their consecration back to the apostles of Jesus - something called ‘apostolic succession’. In this way, confirmation connects us to the worldwide church through the bishop, the symbol of our unity, and to the communion of saints, past, present and future. This reminds us of the way in which we are connected to the wider sphere of the church…” (2) You may recall Bishop Doug made his annual visitation earlier this year, where three important things happened:
You may also recall that the liturgy of confirmation is pretty similar to that of baptism. (1). It begins the same way, and after the sermon the bishops asks the candidates: Do you reaffirm your renunciation of evil? (1) Do you renew your commitment to Jesus Christ? (1) The bishop then asks the congregation if they will support the confirmands, and after affirming they will, the community reaffirms our baptismal promises together. (1) Then there are prayers for the candidates, emphasizing their renewed commitment, followed by the bishop laying hands on the confirmands. (1) The bishop will lay hands on top of the candidates’ head or maybe lay a hand on each shoulder, praying for the Holy Spirit to strengthen, empower, and sustain them. (1) There is a concluding prayer, and the liturgy transitions into the Peace. (1) Under the umbrella of confirmation is reception and reaffirmation. One is received when they have already been confirmed in another tradition, but their spiritual journey brings them into the Episcopal Church. One is reaffirmed when they feel called to reaffirm their faith - maybe after a long time away from the Church or a season of spiritual growth. To be confirmed, received, or reaffirm one's commitment, candidates participate in a preparation period, usually by partaking in our Episcopal 101 course. While most ministries in the church do not require confirmation, a few do. Confirmation is required to serve as a Lay Eucharistic Minister distributing the common cup, to run for Vestry, to be ordained, or to hold certain church wide offices. Marriage All right, shifting gears. Let’s talk about marriage. I want to start with two beautiful, and historic days that were decades in the making. First, on June 26, 2015 a Supreme Court ruling legalized same sex marriage for all Americans, or rather, finally made marriage available to all couples. Then, five days later on July 1, 2015 the General Convention of the Episcopal Church followed suit, by making canonical and liturgical changes to provide marriage equality within the Church. In the years leading up to these two events, there began a series of important conversations within the Church about marriage, including:
When we look back to the 1549 Prayer Book, there was an exhortation listing three reasons for the institution of marriage:
When couples want to be married, they are required to sign a Declaration of Intention, which outlines the Church’s current thinking about marriage. Here is how it reads: “We understand the teaching of the church that God’s purpose for our marriage is for our mutual joy; for the help and comfort we will give to each other in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God’s will, for the gift and heritage of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of God. We also understand that our marriage is to be unconditional, mutual, exclusive, faithful, and lifelong; and we engage to make the utmost effort to accept these gifts and fulfill these duties, with the help of God and the support of our community.” (2) This means that marriage is a covenant. Scott and Melody describe it as, “...a sacred promise that involves not only the two people being married but also God and the gathered community…” (2) The new marriage liturgies from the 2015 General Convention affirm:
Here at Saints James and Andrew, we have a marriage customary to help couples navigate planning their ceremony. (6). Here are a few of the things we point out to couples:
When I meet with a couple, I let them know a few things:
Each clergy person has their own way of doing this. I spend:
This means we spend one session planning the wedding ceremony, and four preparing them for the commitment of marriage. We do that because the ceremony is one moment of one day, and the marriage will hopefully be a lifetime. Sometimes couples need more help sorting through difficult things; in which case, I’ll refer them to a trained professional. The Episcopal Church has approved three different liturgies we can use for the marriage ceremony. As such, we do not permit folks to write their own vows. That said, we do find creative ways to include people’s intentions in the ceremony when asked. The liturgy begins by the celebrant greeting the couple and the congregation, stating the intended reason for the gathering, and our desire to ask God’s blessing on this couple. (1) Then the couple declares they have consented to be here, and the congregation affirms they will do all they can to support this couple in their journey. (1) Then there are readings from scripture, followed by the marriage, where the couple will make a vow that sounds something like this: “In the Name of God, I, take you to be my spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow.” (1) If there are rings, they will be blessed and then exchanged.(1) The couple is pronounced as married, and then the priest proclaims: Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder. (1) The priest then asks God’s blessing on this couple’s union, and I was formed with the tradition of wrapping my stole around the couples held hands as a sign and symbol of that prayer. (1) Then follows the Peace. (1) Believe it or not - there is no ‘kiss the bride’ business. But we do tend to work it in at the Peace if the couple would like. The service then continues with the eucharist or to the dismissal. (1) While we are here to talk about the sacramental rite of marriage, I think I wouldn’t be doing my job if we didn't talk about divorce. Something that touches nearly everyone in one way or another. Here’s a brief history of the marriage canons in the Church:
While that is the history of what has been allowed, what the Church is still not very good at is supporting couples through this painful transition. Rev. Jennifer Philips reflects on this for the Episcopal Church. She writes: “When a marriage comes apart, there is undoubtedly an aspect of sin involved. In some way, everyone has fallen short of the mark, including the supporting community. There is often more than sin involved, though. There may be lack of insight, unforeseeable changes in the people and circumstances, trauma or psychological disturbance, insurmountable incompatibility, mistaken understanding and more. There may be a shared sense of disappointment, grief, anger and brokenness in the congregation that once gathered so joyfully to launch the new marriage. These things are fitting subjects for common prayer and reconciliation, without which[,] one — and most often both — divorcing persons leave their church.” (8) She goes on to say: “...it is important to offer a divorcing couple (or even an individual, if the partner is unwilling) an opportunity to communicate the new status to the congregation, acknowledge the brokenness, ask for prayers, share sorrow or joy and begin life afresh. It is equally important for the congregation to be able to communicate its collective love, grief, sympathy, surprise or relief, ongoing support and prayer with its fellow members in the body of Christ. It’s not the divorce we thank God for in such rituals for the ending of a marriage, but the reality of forgiveness, mercy, kindness, communion and new life in Christ. For too long, despite the congregational pledge of support, we in the church have treated marriage as a private matter and its failure as a private shame.” (8) When a marriage ends, it is our job not to perpetuate cultural shame on the couple, but instead, to stand by their side, and ask how we can support you? I realize this has been a lot of information, and if you’d like to explore either of these topics in more detail, please see the resources posted with the sermon on our website or speak to Molly or myself. Amen!
By Rev. Heather Blais - Luke 24:1-12
Our story begins in the early morning, a couple of days after Jesus' death. A few women were walking to his grave. I always assumed they wanted to check and make sure nothing had been disturbed. Much like we might stop by a cemetery to visit the grave of a recently buried friend. Saying one last goodbye, and tidying the flowers by the headstone. Except this year, I noticed something. At the end of the passion gospel, Luke writes: “It was the day of Preparation, and the sabbath was dawning. The women who had come with him from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned, and prepared spices and ointments. On the sabbath day they rested according to the commandment.” For the first time, I noticed that Jesus' burial was interrupted by the sabbath. Immediately following Jesus’ death, Joseph of Arimathea got Pilate’s permission to take Jesus’ body down from the cross. He then “...wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.” This was not unlike when a funeral home director retrieves a body. They go about their work with integrity and care for the one who has died. Preparing the body for transport, storing it in the appropriate place at the funeral home, and eventually preparing the body for burial. I’ll never forget when my grandmother died unexpectedly in an automobile accident. The following day at the funeral home, I asked to see her body. Like the women, looking into the tomb to see how Jesus’ body was laid, I just needed to see that she was gone, and that her earthly body had found peace. My request flustered the funeral home director. He had not prepared her body for burial, and he was concerned that it would not be good for me to see her. But I knew myself, and her, enough to know that I needed to see her, and so I pushed back, and he acquiesced. When I stood before her, I was able to see that the grandmother I had loved was no longer in this place and time - she was now at peace with God. So I said my final goodbye, touched her hands, and commended her to God in prayer. We don’t always get this privilege, and I was grateful for this final touchstone. For most of human history, the last way humans have expressed our care for our loved one was by preparing their body for burial. Washing, anointing, dressing, laying them gently in their final resting place. During our lifetime, this art has been largely forgotten, left for the professionals. Yet for these women who had traveled with Jesus from Galilee, it would be their last act of love for their teacher and friend. These women looked into the tomb, saw how his body was laid, and then returned to their lodgings to prepare the spices and ointments. As the sabbath dawned, they stopped and rested according to the commandment. This means, they ceased their work. In doing so, they were living into their communal promise to walk with God six days of the week, and stop to rest with God on the seventh day. It was a holy interruption. Immediately following the sabbath, our story begins. Luke writes, “...at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared.” They were ready to complete the ritual of burying Jesus with tender love and care. Except, what they found was, “...the stone rolled away from the tomb.” When they went into the tomb, “...they did not find the body.” These women were perplexed - what could possibly have happened?Suddenly the women noticed two figures in dazzling clothes. They became terrified, bowing their faces to the ground. The figures asked them,“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” These two figures remind the women - this is what Jesus said would happen. “Then they remembered…” These women, like us, needed to be reminded. To be reminded that on the other side of holy interruption is new life. When the sabbath began to dawn following his death, it was too much to remember. All they knew was they had to prepare the spices and ointments, but they were interrupted from finishing their work of tending Jesus’ body for burial. An interruption that probably felt frustrating beyond measure at the time. We know something about that. Remember in March of 2020, when we were in the middle of our season of Lent, and a global pandemic interrupted everything? Remember how we thought we were stopping in-person worship for two weeks? How we assured one another we would most certainly be together, singing our favorite hymns that Easter?Remember that interruption? For the last two years, that interruption has felt anything but holy. But today, that two year interruption without in-person worship during Holy Week and Easter has brought us new life. We are here, together, in person - shouting and singing, Christ is Risen! Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia! For two years, our lives were interrupted in every conceivable and inconceivable way. And all we could do was prepare the spices and ointments, waiting. Being in the moment, trusting that eventually, new life would come. We rested with God. And finally, at long last, this holy interruption has brought us new life. I’m not sure an Easter morning has ever felt as sweet and ripe as this one. To stand here gathered together as the body of Christ - singing, breaking bread, and sharing the common cup together. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia! Like the women, as we leave the empty tomb today, we need to remember. Remember that as the body of Christ, we can be the Church in ways we never dared imagine before the holy interruption of covid-19. Remember the promise that Christ is always with us. Remember the promise that with death, there always comes new life. Remember that love is stronger than death. This two year long, holy Saturday has been a time of spiritual growth and maturity. It has expanded our understanding of what it means to be a follower of Christ in a world full of aching and loneliness. It has taught us the importance of living in community; something I know so many of us, myself included, had simply taken for granted. I always thought the reason I came to church was for communion - to receive the bread and wine. Then we spent the first year of the pandemic fasting from communion. And that begged the question - why come to church? What I learned was that the reason I came to church was for communion. Not the kind we eat and drink, but the communion we create when we come together in our common life and worship as the body of Christ. It is in these communal gatherings of the living, breathing Church that the nourishment of the bread and wine becomes most clearly understood. The bread and the wine are really and truly the sign and symbol of our connection to Christ and one another. Jesus gave us this ritual to remember that in coming together to worship God we receive all that we need to be healthy, grow, and develop as followers of the Way of Love. It is our shared common life and worship which creates and magnifies the experience of nourishment when we receive the bread and wine. Communion is what sustains and empowers us to live into our mutual calling to spread God’s love and transform this world into God’s dream for creation. May this holy interruption we’ve just lived through remind us that God is always with us, offering us endless second chances, and a new way of life in Christ. Amen. By Rev. Heather Blais
Good Friday leaves me with more questions than answers:
We might be tempted to seek out concrete answers. Instead, I would invite us to sit with the questions, and not get too caught up in finding ‘the right answers’. Living with ambiguity often makes us uncomfortable, and challenges our need to be in control. Yet somehow it is in the strange, amorphous places that we can sometimes see God most clearly. So let’s spend a few minutes sitting with these questions… Why did Jesus die? It would seem Jesus pushed too many people’s boundaries. He represented change; preaching a message of God’s love that was accessible to both the most undesirable people of Jesus’ time and the most powerful. As a result, he was perceived as a threat - and the question was, to whom and to what? Who should be held responsible? Luke makes some suggestions:
This passage has been problematic, contributing to anti-Judaic attitudes within the Church. As modern day readers, it is important that we notice these attitudes whenever we hear ‘the Jews’ in the New Testament. Liturgical scholar Louis Weil observes that, “...by the time of the writing of Luke’s Gospel, the hostility between the Christian disciples (most of whom were themselves Jewish) and the Jewish leaders had become acrimonious. It is likely that this hostility affected the way in which the recounting of the events of the Passion were presented. It is not special pleading to suggest that the account in Luke may exaggerate the culpability of the Jewish leaders for its own polemic purpose.” As someone writing beyond the Jewish community, it would have been all too easy for Luke to make costly generalizations and assumptions. Was it necessary? Well, is it ever necessary to put someone to death for their beliefs and ideas? The Church’s theology of the cross has certainly tried to make Jesus' death a necessary part of God’s plan. Theologian David Lose reflected on how the Church may have come to view the cross as a necessary “...instrument of divine justice and punishment…” because “...we would expect a holy, just and powerful God to demand punishment for sin…” He goes on to say that “...perhaps our imagination has been so shaped by the systems of power of this world that we can only imagine God as a mighty king offended by the sin of his subjects. Yet if we take the countless stories Luke shares about Jesus and, more importantly, Jesus' words about God and God’s kingdom seriously, then we might grow more accustomed to God doing the unexpected. God just forgiving us out of love rather than demanding satisfaction first. God acting more [like a] desperate parent than an angry monarch. God reaching out again and again in love and mercy rather than expecting retribution.” What does this story tell us about God? About us? I think it might be time for the Church to reconsider how we have historically understood the cross. Because somehow, it has never made sense that the same God who would run to their child in the story of the prodigal son, would require the sacrifice of their own child in an ultimate act of atonement for humanity. Maybe we could stop using God as an explanation for real people succumbing to the powers of evil in this world. Our egos, our selfish desires, our need for control and order, our love of power and position. Excusing human decisions that led to putting a young man in his thirties, with a mother and friends who loved him, to death on the cross. We may think such a choice was one time in history kind of event, but as citizens of the United States, we witness men and women who are brown like Jesus die everyday due to those same powers of evil. How could such death ever be part of God’s dream for this world? Where do we go from here? We learn to live with our corporate brokenness. The death of Jesus, or anyone else, never lay with just one person or institution. We live together in a society, in community. We share mutual care and responsibility for one another. This means the weight of the world is never just ours to bear - it is our collective, communal responsibility. We learn that all we can control is our own selves, how we will greet each moment, how we will relate to God, and how we will partake in our common life. We await the Good News that we know is coming. Because our God is a God of endless second chances. There will be joy, love, grace, and forgiveness. Right now, all we can do is sit in this moment, together, living with our questions. Amen. *Luke 22-23 |
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Rev. Heather Blais,
Rector 
Copyright 2022 Greenfield Recorder/ Paul Franz
Rev. Dr. Molly Scherm, Associate Rector
Kathryn Aubry-McAvoy,
Lay Preacher 
Bill Hattendorf,
Lay Preacher 
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