Nutshell - A Sermon

I am sorry I’m not here today, but Deacon David has agreed to read my sermon so you won’t feel too deprived. To make up for my absence, I have doubled the length of the sermon. Just kidding.

But the context of this sermon IS important. Because what the lessons today talk about is nothing less than the gospel in a nutshell.

One of the things I make the Confirmation Class memorize each year is the summary of the law, which is taken from today’s Gospel lesson. Why would I do that? Because it is the key to life.

In this passage, a man comes to Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus throws the question back at the man who replies: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart with all your soul with all your strength and with all your mind; and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.

That’s it. The entire Good News: Love God and love your neighbor as you love yourself. Do that, and you’ll live.

But what does it mean? What the heck is Jesus talking about when he says “LOVE?” I tend to be a little more sympathetic to the young man who asks this question of Jesus because I’m constantly confused as to what it means to love -- and as to who my neighbor is. I bet I’m not alone.

Of course, Jesus answers this question with the parable of the Good Samaritan -- which tells us that everyone is our neighbor, and that therefore we are to come to the aid of all who are in need.

HOW do we love: the illegal immigrant, the church that wants to throw us out, the employer who acts unfairly to us, the exec of BP? Or can we limit it to those who need our help?

I don’t know. I have a hard enough time reaching out to those strangers who present themselves to St. James’ looking for financial help. Even when I know their need is sincere and great. Sometimes it’s hard to reach out beyond ourselves -- to really love those who are not close to us.

I do know that this attitude is not new. The prophet Amos proclaimed in a most unpleasant manner God’s condemnation of Israel for not loving their neighbors -- and he did this even while the people of Israel thought they were in God’s good graces.

You see, things were going well in Israel at the time. King Jeroboam is enjoying a period of relative peace, and his priest Amaziah has given him the spiritual thumbs up. Because in that culture, wealth and health were a sign of God’s blessing.

Then comes along Amos from the south, and he says, “This is not what God wants!” He says, “It’s okay to enjoy health and well-being, but never at the cost of ignoring the poor.”

Now, you don’t really get this from this week’s reading -- just that Amos is not doing his prophecy for the money, but rather to obey God. But wait till next week’s reading!

And yet, Amos’s form of love is that he -- initially at least -- is obeying God even when there’s nothing in it for him. He knows he’s going to get grief. He goes because he knows God wants to give the Israelites a wake-up call -- a chance to turn around from their selfish and destructive ways. He calls them to learn mercy and kindness.

Bringing this hard news to people is also loving God and your neighbor. Which is the gospel in a nutshell.

Just one more note. These lessons seem to indicate that love is seen in actions. But remember that the actions are empty if they do not come from within - from a desire to serve rather than to gain. That’s not easy. But since when was love -- that is to say the Gospel -- ever easy? Amen.

Lift High the Snake -- A Sermon

I was driving behind an ambulance the other day and noticed what looked like an big blue asterisk on the back.  In the middle was a pole with a snake.  And I start thinking to myself, if I’m having an emergency, do I really want a guy with a snake on his truck to come help me?

But then, you look at your doctor’s office and you see snakes there, too.  In some instances you’ll see two snakes wrapped around a winged staff, in some, just the one like on the ambulance.  That’s because there was some confusion a while back between two Greek gods.  

Hermes used to carry a rod with two snakes called the caduceus, but he was the patron of liars and thieves.  Which is what you might think of when you get your doctor’s bill.  Then there’s the less well known god named Asclepius who carried a rod with just one snake -- and his job was healing.

That’s all fascinating, you say, but what are all those snakes doing in my bible?  Especially, why is God sending fiery snakes to bite his people just because they were complaining (as they always seemed to be)?  

What kind of God kills his people just because they kvetch?  And if this God is so petty, why does Jesus later equate himself with that serpent?

First thing is to remember is that the story in Numbers was written down many generations after the events.  Sort of like you deciding to write down the events of Henry Hudson based solely on oral history handed down through your family.  The details are certain to be hazy.

There’s every reason to believe that there probably were snake bites during Israel’s time in the wilderness, and perhaps there was a bronze serpent on a pole used for healing in some way.  But did it have to happen just as it was written?  We’ll never know.

Still, remember where the people had just fled from -- Egypt.  Not only were Egyptians familiar with Greek gods, but they had their own snake gods.  The pharaoh wore a crown topped by a rearing cobra symbolizing the Egyptian goddess Wadjyt whose job was to spit fiery venom on the pharaoh’s enemies, and thus save him.  For Egyptians, it was simultaneously a symbol of salvation and destruction.

Now, let’s set the scene.  The people aren’t just kvetching.  They are impatient.  They’ve been free from Pharoah for, what, two, three months?  And they STILL haven’t reached the promised land.  What’s more, things aren’t looking good, what with little food and water -- and what food they do have, they don’t like.  Moses was supposed to be some kind of savior for them, but it seems like he’s just made their crisis worse.  It’s almost like reading headlines today.

Anyway, considering they were complaining about how bad things were under Moses and how great they had been under Pharaoh, and because it was fiery snakes that God sent, it wouldn’t be surprising if what God was saying something like, “There’s your Egyptian Wadjyt for you.  Let’s see how well it protects you now.”  Or, more concisely, “Wadjyt is attacking you which means you are now Pharaoh’s enemies, not his friends.  There’s no going back.”

Still, hoisting the snake onto the pole and making the bitten people stare at it to be healed is confusing.  Some scholars say you’re supposed to look at your sin - acknowledge your sin before you can be forgiven or healed.  But the serpents were the agents of punishment, not the sin itself.

All we can say for sure is that the Israelites already recognized the serpent on the pole as a sign of healing, so it made sense to them to use one.  Besides, it acts as a sign that the same God who can destroy them really prefers to heal.  Just as surely as God could bring destruction upon those who despised him, he would also heal those who repented.  Whether we like it or not, Israel saw God as jealous and dangerous as well as loving.  It was for the foolhardy to abandon him.

That still leaves us with Jesus who late at night, alone with a timid believer named Nicodemus, says, “just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.”

He equates himself with the bronze serpent lifted high to rescue the people not only from their snakebites but from their lack of faith.  He alludes to his impending crucifixion, of course, but the symbol he uses is the ancient symbol for healing.  The gospel writer wants us to be clear about who Jesus is -- the one who will heal us if only we look to him and trust.

And what does he heal us from?  Our own foolish lack of faith.  Our own mindless wandering away from God who gives us life.  Perhaps our own impatience in our times of crisis --  which we can relate to these days.  Most importantly, he is here to heal the broken relationships between us and God. 

But unlike the bronze snake in the wilderness -- where you just look at it and are instantly healed -- with Jesus, you look TO him, and the healing is inside.  It comes slowly over a lifetime, but it is more powerful than any serum.

His healing is of the soul.  It brings light and calls us to leave the dark behind.  When you look upon a cross, Jesus lifted high upon the cross, it is your renewed chance to embrace that light, embrace that healing, embrace a new life in God’s love.

Because in the end, we know true healing doesn’t come from a serpent or even from an ambulance or a doctor, but from Christ alone.  Amen.

In the Beginning Again - A Sermon

First of all, I want to thank you all again for the wonderful gift of allowing me to go home to my family for Christmas this year.  It was fantastic, though I spent the entire Midnight Mass wondering what was going on at St. James’.

When I got back, I learned that Fr. Schmidt got sick and couldn’t take the service last Sunday, and that Fr. Schnitzer jumped in at the last second but didn’t have a chance to prepare a sermon.  You heard the gospel but no commentary on it, and that won’t do. 

So, you get “In the beginning” again.

We can deal with Epiphany next week.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.

You might not guess how important that passage is to Christianity, but it changed the way people saw Jesus.  Because what it says is that Jesus always was.  

You’ll notice that John doesn’t give a birth story like Matthew and Luke do.  Mark doesn’t either, but that’s because he doesn’t care -- all that’s important for him is what Jesus did.  But John cares.  He writes this remarkably beautiful, poetic preface that mirrors the opening lines of Genesis -- In the beginning.

Only, what he wants you to know is that in the beginning, Jesus was.  This was no mere man.  Through him all things were created.   John believes that Jesus was born, but that’s not the important thing.  What’s important is that Jesus was there before the beginning of time. Jesus always was and always will be.  

Jesus is God.

One big reason for John writing this Gospel was that there was dispute going on at the time about whether God created Jesus.  Sort of like a perfect robot that would follow God’s orders, do God’s will perfectly -- but is a creation of God.  If you saw that movie Get Smart, then you remember Hymie -- looked and acted like a person who happened to be bigger, stronger, and faster than everyone else.  But Hymie was a robot operated by two scientists with a remote control.

John says Jesus is no robot, no creation -- Jesus is God at work.  

What does that mean for us? 

It means that God is personally involved in us.  When God saw the need to become involved in his creation, he did not send a surrogate to do the job for him.  He came himself.  He invested himself in our lives by becoming one of us in every way.  

Which means that God is personally invested in you and me.  That’s what is so important.  It means that God does not see us as mere objects that can be dealt with from a distance.  No, he invests every bit of himself in us.

In these difficult financial times I hear people talking about the corporations they work for -- how there used to be loyalty to the employees, but now how all employees are expendable the moment they no longer serve a purpose.  

What John is saying to us is that God is no soulless corporation, jettisonning us when we become inconvenient.  God is fully invested in what happens to you and me because we aren’t employees, we are God’s children.  

We should note, however, that this investment does NOT mean that God is here to serve us.  No, we are the servants.  We are the children, while God is the parent.  But it is something different to serve a parent who loves us rather than one who sees us as expendible.  It is something different to serve one who desires us to be in joyful relationship with him -- rather than one who only needs us until we no longer can fulfill our function.

So you choose: serve that which sees you as a function or serve one who is totally there with you, totally committed to you.  The one who was always there right from the beginning.  Amen.

Who Follows? -- A Sermon

This is Recognition Sunday when we recognize all the hard work and dedication of Sunday School students and teachers as well as our graduates.  Good Job, everyone.

Students are often seen as followers.  Jesus certainly referred to his disciples as his students -- so Sunday School students, you're in good company.  

Or are you?  Now, I know our Sunday school students never misbehave, and they always listen and understand everything right away.  But if you read the bible, you'll see that Jesus' students -- and in fact, God's students -- or should we say followers? -- weren't always so good.

In fact, sometimes it seems like the people who God allowed to be his followers weren't very good students at all.

Let's look at Abraham, the star of our Old Testament reading.  Now, in our reading from Romans, St. Paul clearly considers Abraham to be the paragon of virtue, the man who personified faith.  Of course, you know how when things happen a long time ago.  You forget the bad and remember only the good.  So Paul remembers only the heroic things about Abraham -- He remembers the faith. 

But was Abraham really all that fantastic?  Paul says he left everything behind, but what did he leave?  His dad was dead.  He was leaving a city that he'd only been in for a few years -- remember he moved there when he was sixty-five or so -- and he took his wife, nephew, slaves and livestock with him.  What was so different about this than any other emigre?

Sure, Abraham follows God, but then he gives his wife away to Pharaoh in order to protect his own safety.  Then he does it again with King Abimelech.  

True, he bargains for the lives of strangers in Sodom and Gomorah, and that's good, but later on he banishes Hagar and Ishmael with hardly a complaint.  And later still, he goes off to kill Isaac without a word.

Which is all a way of saying, Abraham was not perfect.  He was just one of us.

And if that weren't bad enough, look at Matthew, the man Jesus calls to follow him in today's Gospel.  The man is a tax collector, for goodness sake.  We think the IRS is bad, but a tax collector in those days was the worst kind of traitor, the absolute scum of the earth.  

Jesus follows this up with an even more remarkable encounter.  There's a woman following him.  A woman who has been bleeding for 12 years touches him in hopes of being cured.  Talk about outrageous behavior.  In those days, Jews were scared of blood -- it was unclean, and they avoided touching it except in battle.  A woman's blood was even worse - to be avoided at all costs.  So when this woman has the affrontery to touch Jesus' robe, well he had the right to scold her at the least.  Instead, he praises her faith.

All three of these examples:  Abraham, Matthew, and the woman, show us horribly flawed people -- regular folks like us, some worse than others -- who somehow heard God's voice.  It might not have even been a real voice.  Maybe they just got a glimmer of something special. 

Whatever it was, they decided to follow.  As Abraham shows, following did not make them suddenly saintly.  Those who follow God's path often make just as big of mistakes after they make that decision as they did before.

As the woman with hemorrhages shows us, deciding to follow doesn't bring fame or much of anything else -- nobody hears about her again, and we don't really know whether she continued to follow.

Which is all a way of saying that the question of who will follow Christ doesn't depend on their worthiness.  Nor does it depend on their ability to stay on the straight and narrow.

Following Christ is a funny thing.  It's a way of life that challenges us and transforms us, but it never makes life less confusing or any easier.  Matthew followed even though he had to put up with people pointing and saying to Jesus, "You're hanging out with him?"

Following Christ only means one thing.  You want to go where he's going even if you don't know where it might be.  You want something that only he can give.  It's never been a function of deserving it or earning it.  It's a function of desire.

So you can follow Jesus if you want what he has.  The only question is, do you want it?

Becoming Ourselves - A Sermon

Back in the days of BC -- that's Before Children -- I got the notion to take flying lessons.  Flying in a small plane in beautiful.  You're at 5,000 feet, your instructor's at your side.  You're making the plane do what you want...  One day, we finished a lesson, and I had made a really good three-point landing.  When I stopped the plane, my instructor, Nick told me not to cut the engine, then he hopped out.

"What're you doing?" I shouted over the engine.  

"It's time," he said.  "You're soloing."

"Now?"

"Now."

In case you hadn't guessed, soloing means piloting a plane for the first time all alone -- with nobody else in the plane.  My heart stopped.  I wasn't ready.  What if I did something wrong?  What if I crashed?  Nick shut the door, smiled, and waved.  I taxied back to the runway, cursing Nick all the way for leaving me alone in this death trap.  Then -- for better or worse -- I took off.

I only flew around the airport and made a couple of what they call touch-and-go landings -- you land and take right off again.  But after the first landing, Nick's voice came over my headset:  "You might want to retract your flaps."  I don't want go into what flaps do, but NOT retracting them would have been bad.

At the end of it all, I got out of the plane, shaking like a leaf, and there was Nick, a big smile on his face.  "Great job!" he said.  "Now you're a pilot."

That's an experience most of us have in some way or other.  When you learn how to ride a bike, eventually Mom or Dad lets go, and you're soloing.  When you graduate from High School -- as several of our young folks are doing this year -- you leave home for the first time and venture out.  

Or when you're a disciple, and Jesus says, "you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now," and then leaves -- takes off into the sky and disappears.

It says they just stared up into the sky, but I bet they were screaming in their heads, "Wait!  You can't leave!  We're not ready!  Why are you leaving us?"

Why indeed?  Why DID Jesus leave the disciples just forty days after his glorious resurrection?  After all, he had proven his point.  He had already defeated death, shown his divinity, changed forever the way we relate with God.  Why not stay with his disciples and help them get the church going properly?  I mean, forty days isn't a lot of time.

On the other hand, if he had not left, would they have ever said they were ready?  Would they have ever quit looking to him, asking, "Is this how we do it, Lord?"  Can you imagine a child learning to ride the bike -- and the parent NEVER let go?  There might not be any cut knees or bruised shins, but the child would never really ride the bike.

Nobody can truly become themselves until they are cut loose, with all the risks involved.

So, what was it that the disciples were becoming?  Nothing less that the Body of Christ.  As Jesus told them, "You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."  The Body of Christ, the Church, the followers who live out Christ's love and share it with a broken world.

After Jesus ascended to heaven, the disciples were left staring up at the sky.  The angels who came asked, "What're you looking up there for?  Jesus is gone."  They were saying, "It's time to become who you were meant to be.  NOW you are true disciples."

Jesus had to leave so they could grow up.  And they did.  They left rejoicing, ready to face the new world ahead.  To be the Body of Christ.

Today, WE are Christ's Body.  If we want, we can stare up at the sky, too, waiting to see Christ coming down again, never doing anything because we don't know if it we'll mess up.  OR, we fly.  We can take the risk of acting like Christ, of being his witnesses in a frightened world.   And we do so knowing that right here we will find enough guidance and grace and support to keep us in the air.

Remember how I made that first landing and forgot to retract the flaps?  But that voice came over the headphones and reminded me.  Even more than that, the voice told me that I wasn't as alone as I thought I was.  Someone was still watching me.

Jesus told the disciples that he would not leave them alone, either.  The Holy Spirit would come and give them strength.  Not the same as the instructor being in the seat next to you, perhaps, but everything we need to fully become ourselves.  Amen.

The Long Farewell

In the Gospel today, we see Jesus in the early stages of what scholars call "The Farewell Discourse."  Now, if you had a bible in front of you, you could notice that this is chapter 14 in a book that has 21 chapters.  The Farewell Discourse actually runs from 13:31--17:26.  That's a long farewell.

And yet, this is not just saying goodbye.  This is the night before the crucifixion.  Jesus wants to teach and prepare his disciples in this long discussion.  He wants to give them instructions for a time when he won't be there, and he wants to give them hope.

Which is why he starts out with "Don't let your hearts be troubled."

Don't let your hearts be troubled?  Believe me, the disciples' hearts were troubled.  They didn't understand his foreboding talk of death.  They didn't understand why he had just washed their feet.  

And they didn't understand the confusing words in this passage.  "In my father's house are many rooms."  "I'm going to prepare a place for you."  "I am in the Father and the Father is in me." "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."  And the kicker:  "If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it."

It's all troubling.

But what Jesus is saying in short is that they will be able to carry on after his departure -- both after the crucifixion and more importantly (as we know, but they didn't) after his ascension.  They CAN broaden the ministry that Jesus began.  They can know the Father because they know the son.  They can trust that Jesus will always be in their work as long as it is the work Jesus would have them do.

And so can we.  Of course, that means making sure the work we do is Jesus' work and not ours.  We can't make up our minds that WE want something and then say it's going to happen because we decide to use the name of Jesus.  You know, "In the name of Jesus, let the Rangers win the Stanley Cup."  Uh uh.

No.  Jesus assures that he is with us, but also that he is the only way -- which is to say, Jesus is the path, and Jesus is the embodiment of God, and God is Love.  So our path is love.

NOW, to take a quick digression, let's remember that Earth Day is this week.  That is to say a celebration and call to care for the Creation -- God's gift to us.  Depending on who you listen to, either we haven't done as good a job as God intended us to do, or it doesn't matter what we do to the planet because our actions have no consequences.  

Despite the preponderance of scientific studies asserting that global warming is real and that it has very real and negative consequences for all of life on this planet, there are many who refuse to hear or believe.  They say Global Warming -- or as has been suggested to me as more accurate, Global Climate Change -- is a hoax.

I have two quick questions in response to the hoax theory.  First of all, although I can understand why companies that pollute would want to call Global Climate Change a hoax, I'd like to know what gain the vast majority of scientists get from saying that Global Climate Change exists.  Second, what if we are wrong about global warming?  I mean, if those who say it is real are wrong, and we spend all this time and money taking better care of the earth, what are the negative consequences?  A healthier planet?  

But if those who say it is a hoax are wrong -- and we do nothing to change our destructive ways -- what are those consequences?  What harm is done then to the millions of poor in countries that suffer increased drought and flooding and all those things we've been blessed to avoid so far.  I'm not much of a gambling man, but I think I know where I'd place my bets.

Now, you might ask, "How did Chuck get from Jesus to climate change?"  Through the Farewell discourse and Jesus' words, "Don't let your hearts be troubled."

If, as scripture tells us, the care of all creation is given to us by God, then the earth itself is part of our mission.  God does not ONLY tell us to go out and convert people to Christianity.  Our work is to care for creation just as surely as it is to share the Good News of Christ, so we can apply to our work the words from Jesus Farewell Discourse.

Namely, "Don't let your hearts be troubled."  

It's easy to be troubled when you think of what CAN happen to this planet which is the only one we've got.  We've already seen the extinction of countless species, the death of the coral reefs, the destruction of the rain forest (for example).  It can be disheartening.  I mean, there may be many dwelling places in God's house, but there's only one earth.

But Jesus reminds us just as he reminded his disciples right before the crucifixion that he is with us.  What we ask for in Jesus' Name -- that is, if it is in keeping with Jesus' will -- he will do.  Even though it sometimes seems we've done irreparable harm to this earth, there is hope.  In Christ we can do all things, and we can repair much of the damage even in our time.

In this long farewell, Jesus says that curious line about being the way, the truth, and the life.  For him, that means that living as he did -- selfless, loving, always looking to the Father -- is the only way to live.  For us, in our daily life, in our evangelism, and in our care for creation, it is the same.  Amen.

Strange Shepherding - A Sermon

So, here we are, the sheep of Christ following the shepherd.  But what a strange shepherd we follow.  No, I'm serious.  The places this guy takes us are not usually places we want to go.  I mean those green pastures and still water that the 23^rd Psalm talk about?  Hah!

To be honest, if Christ were a physical shepherd and we were actual sheep, he would have an easier time.  Because sheep don't actually think about where they're going.  They just follow the voice.  They just hang out together thinking, "Grass is good.  Mmm.  Good grass.  Oh, there's the voice, let's follow it.  Mmmm.  More grass."  That sort of thing.

But us?  We think, "I don't want to go there.  It's not nice."  And to be honest, there's nothing that says we have to follow.

Follow or not, however, that shepherd of ours keeps going into the strangest places.  Just look at the reading in Acts.  There the community of sheep start off trying to follow pretty closely.  "All who believed were together and had all things in common; ⁴⁵they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need."

That having all things in common bit really meant sharing all their possessions with each other.  It meant they tried to live as a family --even though they kept their own homes.  This did not last, of course, because it became unwieldy.  Even monastic orders which still live that way to some degree have difficulty sharing all their possessions the way this was invisioned.  Yet the shepherd keeps walking in that direction.

Or look at Peter's letter.  Here's our shepherd leading us in another strange direction -- suffering.  Not just suffering but suffering injustice -- without revenge.  Suffering without bitterness.  Suffering for something the sake of that shepherd.  

So now, we have our shepherd leading us to a place where we don't own our own possessions and where there's a good chance we're going to get hurt, and we're not going to do anything to defend ourselves.  And now we, the sheep are in a quandry.

Because if we follow this guy, the others around us are going to think, "What weirdos."  They are going to think, "These people are are corrupting our way of life because our society teaches that you should own as much as you can.  More is better.  And don't let anyone push you around.  We're number one."

So, we sheep hear these voices.  And we hear the voice of our strange shepherd who says, "If any would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."  Which voice sounds more appealing?  

Let's review:  THEM:  "Get all you want and be number one."

JESUS:  "Take up your cross, give away all your wealth to the poor, turn the other cheek."

So, why on earth would we keep following that shepherd.  It doesn't sound fun.

Still, we follow.  Because we learn that having all the stuff doesn't give us life.  We learn that locking ourselves away from pain and suffering does not make us any more alive.  We learn that in the voice of this strange shepherd, we find purpose and meaning.  We find acceptance not for what we have done for anyone, not because we're more beautiful or stronger, but simply because we are.

And that voice rings true while the voices of greed and dominance and revenge sound hollow.

We follow a strange shepherd.  About the only thing that would seem stranger would be not following him.  Amen.