"Yeah, Whatever." (Sermon for October 9, 2011)

Chances are there is someone here this morning, perhaps the person sitting next to you, who is anxious about something. Given all the threats that Life is bringing right now, maybe that is all of us!

If you are hurting, anxious, scared, troubled, feeling besieged, downtrodden, or... all of the above…today’s scripture readings have something for you!  Hear these comforting words:

The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything. ... And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:5b,7)

“Yeah, whatever.”

Ugh. 

How is it that one, single, solitary word can seemingly rain on our parade, bring us down?!  How many of you have heard people, perhaps your own children or grandchildren using this word to collapse any joy or superior feeling with one fell swoop!

When someone says “whatever” doesn’t it just get under your skin and don’t you just want scream?  Doesn’t it trouble you that someone can take the abundance of life itself and bring gloom on stage with just one word?! 

In today’s gospel we hear what happens to the people of the “whatever.”  The story of the king holding the banquet in today’s gospel reading is an allegory. That means that it is full of symbolism and is not intended to be taken literally.  Let’s review the basic story line.

Jesus tells a story of a king who wants to host a wedding banquet for his son. Now, you should know that Matthew has doctored this story up a bit and it was written after the fall of Jerusalem, after 70 AD.  Matthew wrote it to show the Jews that they should have listened but they didn’t.

In those days, it was the custom to make a general announcement that one was going to hold a wedding banquet and that certain people were invited. Later, a reminder invitation would be issued by way of the servants going around and calling people in. You see, everyone lived fairly close in so this was possible. 

In this story the king sends his slaves out to let the invitees know that the banquet was ready to be consumed. And do you know that these invitees said to the king? 

"Yeah, whatever."

The king was incredibly patient and sent a second reminder invitation.  This time, those rude invitees did damage to the messengers. As you can imagine, the king was mighty peeved. Refusing an invitation from the king, in those days, was tantamount to rebellion. 

"Yeah, whatever."

So the king sent his army out to destroy the Whatever People and their city. Then, he told his servants to go out and invite everyone in sight, everyone who was left. It didn’t matter whether they were “good or bad.” Anyone and everyone was invited.

Now because this an allegory “according to Matthew,” we have come to realize that the king is God, the banquet is for his son Jesus--the bridegroom, and the original invited guests were the nation of Israel. They were the ones originally invited to the banquet, but they missed their chance. 

The messengers who were killed were the prophets.

The king extending his invitation to everyone and anyone represents the gospel being available to gentiles now, not just the Jews. 

But wait a minute, you say, what about that man who showed up without a wedding garment--the one over which the king lost his cool and was thrown out into the darkness? Wasn’t the king over reacting just because the man wasn’t wearing his wedding garment?

Some say that this person represents death himself. This guest arrives not wearing the robe of Christ, and as such stands out. His being thrown out into the darkness represents Christ vanquishing death.

Now what did that wedding robe represent in the first place?  I think we can get a clue from the very last sentence of the reading: "For many are called, but few are chosen.” 

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been a little troubled by this often-quoted proclamation. Does this mean that God calls lots of people but that, after some sort of winnowing process, he only “chooses” a few?

Again, relying on biblical authorities who have studied these things, I’ve heard that the Greek word from which we have translated the word “chosen” can also mean “choosing.” Ah, this new knowledge helps make sense of this statement. For many are called, but few are choosing.  Or to put it in the terms of the gospel story…many are invited, but few RSVP.

Indeed many were invited.  In fact, the king eventually told his servants to “invite everyone that you find” both good and bad. And when they arrived they all donned a wedding garment--the robe of Christ. They chose to accept the invitation to the banquet and they donned their wedding garment as a sign of their choice.

Every moment of every day, God comes to us and invites us to that heavenly banquet. This is no ordinary banquet. This is a cholesterol, calorie-free feast; one we can indulge in without reservation. But somewhere along the line we make the choice to accept the invitation.

What happens when we accept the invitation? 

We then choose to rejoice. We then know that the Lord is near. As I said last week, we just say KNOW. We do not worry about anything, but “in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving” we’ll let our requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, does guard our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus.

And, if I may paraphrase… Whatever I can do, I know that I can do all things through him who strengthens me because I choose to put on the wedding garment of Christ.

And the same Lord who banished death himself from the party is the same Lord who sets a table in the presence of those things that trouble me. Whatever life throws me, whatever life throws me, I will fear no evil!! In the midst of any kind of peril, a rod and a staff are comforting me.

This is my most valuable possession!! This represents the most valuable decision I have ever made--to follow Jesus. Through the life, death, and resurrection of my Savior, I know that God is there for me 100%, and then some!  God is so good.

Earlier this week, I heard a colleague say that "every ending is a beginning with God." As soon as we give in to what we perceive as the impossible, then we are denying that God is opening a window where a door has been closed. You know? God never rests from that making-new fixation of his.  God is such a show off!

With that in mind, listen again to what Paul had to say… “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”

Some may say “Yeah, whatever.”  As for me, I say “whatever…yes, whatever!”

Let us be...the Whatever People!!

Amen.

Scriptural Texts: Exodus 32:1-14; Psalm 106:1-6, 19-23; Philippians 4: 1-9; Matthew 22:1-14

Just Say "Know!" (Sermon for October 2, 2011)

I wanted to know some information about an elected official the other day, so I simply googled my question and up came a variety of profiles of the person from Wikipedia® to a variety of politically-motivated blogs.

Would you agree that we are living in a world of informational overload? And despite all that information, I think we are also experiencing relational anorexia. We are starving for genuine relationships.

Given that, my attention was drawn this week to the Epistle. Paul is writing an essentially autobiographical testimonial.  And in it, he is telling us that the call of the church must be to "know Christ."

The word punster in me would like to label this as the "Just Say Know" reading. That's K-N-O-W.  Just say know.  Get it? Well, it is kinda corny, but maybe it will help you remember this sermon.

Ah, the "Great American Dream"! The American "pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps" Dream lures us into believing that if we somehow just knew more, we could get ahead and get the jump on the next guy.

If you think you haven't been part of  the Dream's magic spell, consider for a moment what you might have done 10 years ago, if you knew what you know today:
Might you have...
- invested in a little company called Google?
- advised your children to take Arabic or Chinese instead of French and Latin?
- gotten married -- or not gotten married?
- enrolled in college and really hit the books?
- dropped out of college and hit the road?
- gone to more baseball games with your dad/son?
- voted?

Let's face it...all these "might have dones" don't count for anything today.

But contrary to the promise of the Dream, in many ways it's not WHAT you know, but WHEN you know it!  And most important, it's WHO you know.

One of the biggest pitfalls lurking behind the American Dream is that for so many people, the real value of knowledge is judged by the amount of stuff that knowledge generates. Those most "in-the-know" are believed to be those who have knowledge that will get them the best-paying jobs so that they can stockpile the greatest number of possessions.

I've noticed colleges scrambling to desert the notion of education for life and adopt an education that will guarantee a job.

How much you know is measured these days by how big your stock portfolio is, how many clients you have and in the higher echelons, if your political campaign can be linked to the most lucrative donors. This is what we call success today; it's about money and influence.

Fortunately, even with  all our  informational wizardry, undreamed of by former generations, some of us sense there is a frightening void awaiting the "knower" just beyond that mountain of useful information.

A few months ago, I related the story of the man who founded Habitat for Humanity (Millard Fuller).  He and his wife started out working 90 hours a week, never seeing each other, never seeing their children, working every day of the week. And it took an almost-divorce to wake them from their Dream and cause them to revisit their priorities.

What amazed me about that story was that in those early days when he was working his tail off, this man would be glorified as if he were someone to emulate. Like this one family, there are now generations of exhausted, hard-working, well-meaning, but deluded men and women who are gluttonously stuffing themselves with "knowledge" and yet are suffering from relational anorexia.

We seem to know things, but not people. We know how to do work, but we don't know how to be a friend. We know what it takes to get ahead, but we don't know who we can depend on to help keep our heads above water when life becomes overwhelming.

We know how to make a living, but we don't know how to make a life.

Paul is a good example of someone who had all the right knowledge and all the right connections to guarantee his success in life. Then, suddenly he knew that he was completely ignorant about the most important thing a human life could experience -- a right relationship with God.

Filled with knowledge, Paul was starving to death. Only an intimate, personal relationship -- a wholly different kind of "knowing" and being "known" -- satisfied all Paul's cravings. You might say that he allowed himself to find God and also to be FOUND by God.

Have you ever been in a public meeting where the speaker takes questions from the audience, but then listens all the while nodding?  He has that smug smile on his face as if to say, "oh you of little knowledge. I know it all and how sad that you don't.  Here, just let me tell you what you should think and then you can go away corrected."

The old adage: "knowledge is power."  Only those in charge, those with all the power, "know it all" and see the big picture. Well, those of us who "know Christ" operate under a completely opposite mandate.

I want to stop here for a minute and let you think about what knowing Christ Jesus means for you. I'd like you to think about what it would be like to not have Christ or God or the Spirit in your life at all. What is it about your relationship with God in Christ that is most valuable to you?  Like Paul, what is so valuable that it equals your life itself?

There are so many out in our communities, our neighborhoods, our households, who do have a "need-to-know."  People who need to know the confidence in God that you know. Simply put, it is up to those of us who "know Christ" to reveal his love to them.

On Easter morning, Mary Magdalene was reduced to tears by the sight of the empty tomb. The angels confronted Mary and asked her, "Why are you crying?" She replied, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have taken him ...."

Beloved, there are so many "theys" out there -- conglomerates of faceless, hostile "theys" whose job it is to make it hard for us to "know" and easy for us to "not know."

- There are the "theys" of materialism -- urging us to invest in possessions instead of treasures.
- There are the "theys" of anti-intellectualism -- advising us to trust only our emotions and never our heads.
- There are the "theys" of commercialism -- persuading us to spend the contents of our wallets instead of extending the power of our hands.
- There are the "theys" of politics -- dividing us into factions instead of joining us into teams.
- There are the "theys" of the present -- narrowly fixating us on what we want today instead of what our children will need tomorrow.

By knowing Christ and by making Christ known to the world, the genuine treasures of this life and the next will decorate our life.  And we will find true thankfulness, true peace..for our soul.

May this parish fulfill its mandate to Just Say Know.

Amen.

Scriptural texts: Exodus 20:1-4, 7-9, 12-20; Psalm 19; Philippians 3:4b-14; Matthew 21:33-46

A word about our new blog location

Hello readers,

We have migrated contant from our previous location to this new location - for this reason, posts dated "October 13, 2011" actually date from Lent and Easter 2010. New sermon posts, pictures and such will be added much closer to the date on which they were delivered. Please subscribe and watch for updates! Thanks for visiting with us.

Fr. Brad

Easter 2010 - A full house!

The interior of St. Thomas' Church in Bath, full of Easter worshippers. Our beautiful Gothic revival church was designed my the eminent English architect Henry Dudley, and was built in 1867.

Alleluia! Without a doubt! (Sermon for the Second Sunday in Easter, 2010)

+Christ is risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!!

This is known as Easter 2 Sunday by clergy. “Easter 2” sounds like a movie sequel. But instead, it simply means that a whole week has gone by since Easter.

During the season of Easter, there are two liturgical changes that you should know about. First, we do not read from the Old Testament. Instead we have a second helping from the New Testament, often from the Book of Acts.

Secondly, we do not have a general confession in this season. The death and resurrection of Jesus redeemed the world, and so we live in the bright light of that act for fifty days—so inspired, so graced, so forgiven, that a confession is not needed. Wow.

One would think we’d find the world transformed by the resurrection, but a whole week has flown by and now we find the gospel reading set in a locked room where the disciples are hiding and our first lesson shows the almost fanatical devotion that Peter and the apostles had. Let’s look at the first reading first.

In the text from the Book of Acts the once disheartened followers of Jesus have been running loose in Jerusalem doing “signs and wonders.” The common people hold them in “high esteem.” Great numbers are joining them. The poor are bringing their sick hoping that Peter’s shadow will fall on them to make them well. These are the people of the day who have no hope of health care.

The government officials are not happy with this. They have the apostles thrown into prison. But an angel delivers them saying, “Go to the temple; tell the people the whole message about this life.” So the apostles went and when the high priest and his cronies found that the apostles were back on the streets teaching the people, they sent police to arrest them (again) and drag them before the court. That’s where the scripture today begins.

The authorities tell the apostles that they must stop teaching about Jesus—just stop it–and the Apostles answer, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” So they will continue telling about Easter, continue healing the poor, no matter what the police do.

At the other end of the spectrum is the gospel this morning. It is actually set in the first day of the week—several days before the events of the first reading. If I had thought of it sooner, we could have read them in chronological order rather than liturgical order.

The juxtaposition is intentional. In fact, there will be more of this as we proceed in the weeks ahead. The intent is to show how Jesus’ disciples can go from bewilderment and gut fear to bold preaching and ministry.

One vehicle for this transformation is in Thomas looking at the wounds of Christ. I think I’m safe in saying that few of us are shocked by Thomas’ doubt. That may because we are all living in a post-modern world that is governed more and more by the autonomy of the individual opinion. “Oh you can talk about truth, but the only truth that is real to me is the truth that I decide is real.”

So, not only are we not shocked by doubt; we probably extol it.

But what about how willing Jesus is to show Thomas his wounds? Does that shock you? We don’t want to look at wounds.

As a priest and former hospital chaplain, I’ve had my fair share of individuals who were all too eager to show me their scars, their incisions, their wounds. Thanks, but no thanks. I’m a little queasy thinking about Jesus asking Thomas to touch his wounds. ‘Doubt’ I can deal with; those ugly marks of human suffering on the body of the risen Christ move me to an uncomfortable place.

Frankly, as a child of the 50’s, there have been times when I really wished that Jesus had been more like a superman, “faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.” These days, Hollywood might portray Jesus as the divine avatar that enters another world to save its inhabitants from destruction.

It would be easier to think of a Christ like that. I have had people ask me to “Tell God to make that person do…” Instead, we get a Savior who is recognized by his scars. Too human?

When I have been in the presence of death in the hospital room, as I was just last night, I really have yearned for a Christ who would magically and thoroughly remove the grief and the earthiness of the moment. But all I can offer is a Christ with scars.

Our Christ descends into the valley of the shadow of death, into hell itself, the hell of suffering through which we may all walk at one time or another. We do not have any superhuman high priest to instantly wipe away our weakness, but we do have a Savior who has shared fully in all our experience.

And as I have stood with families, it was all I had to offer—and……..it is enough.

Those shocking scars were enough for those disciples and, obviously, for Thomas. They were enough for Thomas to overcome his doubts and to awaken his faith.

I know my history well enough to know that gods were not intimate with their creation. For Jesus to come along and so dramatically show how intimate God wanted to be with his creation, this was a radical departure from the religions of the time. And I think this is what Thomas realized and internalized.

Maybe that is where we each need to be at in order to be converted by the limitless love of Christ.
I was encouraged this past year when I read The Shack by William Paul Young. The shack itself was a powerful metaphor for the human heart that has been scarred by abuse and pain. It is the house where we hide our wounds. In the book, Mac, the main character, confronts his “great sadness” when he opens the door of his shack. There he discovers not some vengeful god, but the all-embracing love of the Trinity who had been in the midst of his wounds all the time.

In Christ’s invitation to Thomas to touch the scars on his body, he was inviting all of us to experience the presence of Christ by touching the scars in our own lives. There is no doubt about it—that would be shocking.

Thomas had his conversion experience. He knew because he saw. He immediately knew what the resurrection meant now for him. And he went on to carry the Word of God to the far-off countries of Pakistan and India where there are still churches that carry his name.

My question for you this morning is this: What does the resurrection of Jesus Christ mean for you?

I don’t mean the story of the resurrection. I don’t mean the poetry and the drama of the resurrection story. What does the physical resurrection of Jesus mean for you?

If we feel as though we have to hide behind locked doors, for fear of the fundamentalists or the secularists, Christ will take the initiative and come right on in.

If we are honest at this point, let us blurt out our need, ask God to meet us at our shack, our house of doubt. God will take it seriously and respond.

If we are faithful, God who is faithful and just, will forgive us and speed us on to action in his name. And we will do wondrous things…in his name.

In the mean time…we say Alleluia…without a doubt. Because Christ the scarred is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Amen.

Sermon for Easter Sunday 2010

+Christ is risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!!

Alleluia—it’s an unusual word. Not English, Greek or Latin…the usual languages of our worship. If someone came from another planet, they might think maybe we had rocks in our mouths, or maybe our dentures were loose. Maybe we’re still drunk from Thursday’s Seder dinner. Maybe it’s the babbling of a child. Alleluia.

“Alleluia” is like the word, “amen.” We bandy it about on Sundays, especially today, but most of us may not know what it means.

It’s a Hebrew word and, like ‘amen’ remains in our worship to remind us of our Jewish roots. It is a cry of jubilation meaning, “Praise the Lord.”

But the translation doesn’t even begin to explain why the church chose and retains this word.

This morning, I want to put this word out front and center! If you carry from this morning, nothing else, I pray you will leave this place…saying Alleluia!

In the celebration of the mystery of Jesus’ triumph over death and the power of his ministry; in the presence of our redemption, our usual vocabulary is inadequate. When faced with the superabundant mercy of God in our lives, we can only stammer in amazement and exclaim…alleluia!

Noted author Nora Gallagher (who happens to be an Episcopalian), made famous the notion of “practicing resurrection.”  I’d like to tweek that a bit and talk about practicing alleluia.

This is the Easter message. This is the splendid truth that will carry us from this place into a cold dark world. This is an ‘alleluia’ that we so desperately need.

It does seem like in so many ways, people are longing for alleluia in their lives.

• A widow whose husband died at a much too early age.
• A man who is struggling with a new career at midlife and doubts his ability to cope with new challenges.
• A colleague who falls into a deep, clinical depression and struggles to live through the day with meager energy.

In so many ways, so many people are longing for new life, for the practice of alleluia.

I think that’s where the women and the disciples were at, emotionally, after Jesus’ crucifixion and death. We saw at the beginning of this service, the two Marys arriving at the tomb in need of alleluia.

Think about it. They had gone to the tomb to attend to Jesus’ body. This was going to be the last loving service they could provide for him. They had witnessed death. There had been no time for a proper burial. They came with spices and linen to complete the burial rite. As we just heard; their hearts were very heavy.

And, there must have been fear mixed in with their grief. They had put all their hopes on this one man’s life. Those hopes and dreams seemed to have died with Jesus.

That is what often happens with hopes and dreams; love often is trampled by the world. The world can be a cruel and fearsome place.

But, as we know, something amazing happened when they reached the tomb. They entered that place of death and yet, they did not find death. They were the first to receive the news that Jesus had conquered death itself and had risen.

Five will get you ten that those women eventually uttered the word, “alleluia.”

And in that moment, they changed. The women grasped the amazing importance of the moment and went and told the men. They began to practice their alleluia on the disciples.

The disciples, being men, took a little longer to comprehend this new alleluia. After coming to the tomb themselves, they slowly came to grips with the fact that even death couldn’t contain the power of Jesus—God made man.

And, slowly, they began to realize that maybe there would be the same life-transforming power in his teachings and ministry too! They began to realize that Good News isn’t news until it’s shared. And the alleluia went forth.

The good news of Easter is not only that Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead and lives now, but also that the power of alleluia can transform our lives as well.

You might call this “Alleluia in the mean time.” And, by ‘mean’ I mean ‘mean’!

Cruelty will not be the last word. Sin and evil will not be the ultimate powers of the universe. Death will not get the last laugh.

Forgiveness and love and life and “making all things new” are the real things in life. These are our alleluias!

If we live in the awareness—the alleluia—of the Easter event, we can relive some of the confidence we need to carry on… to withstand the negative rhetoric of the day, the negatives that assault us every day.
We can become a living alleluia by practicing alleluia, practicing resurrection.

No other model could be more appropriate right now than that of the Haitian people after the terrible earthquake.

In his letter to the world, Bishop Duracin writes, “this situation delivers us into faith. I look at this as a baptism. …life must continue. We must see within this situation the possibilities that exist. Jealousy, anger, hatred—this is not the time for these. We turn to Jesus Christ, who did not fall into temptation; though he was in hard situations, he overcame death in victory.”

Alleluia.

Not long ago, I heard our own bishop ruminate over this and he offered me a whole new take on what I am now calling “alleluia.”

He told me that he had come to the conclusion that we need to stop looking at life merely as a blessing. Life IS a blessing, but if we invest in that passive ideology, it can become an end in itself.

Instead, he feels as though we need to begin to see the life that God gives us as an “opportunity” and more specifically, an “opportunity for blessing”–living that is active rather than just passive. I would add…looking for opportunities for Alleluia.

From this day on, may we live life as an opportunity for Alleluia. May we seek to be a blessing, an Alleluia for someone else.

Don’t count your blessings, count your opportunities for Alleluia.

Let me suggest that you let some regular part of your life become your Alleluia.

• Determine to practice alleluia until it becomes second nature.
• Do something that flies in the face of whatever death you face in your world.
• Take some time to read the Bible.
• Open your prayer book to page 304 every month and renew your baptismal vows.
• Set aside a portion of your garden this summer to raise veggies for the food pantry.
• Visit that neighbor you’ve been meaning to visit.
• Volunteer at church or the charity of your choice.
• Ask someone if they’d like to come to church with you.

The promise of Easter is that we can be an Alleluia in this world. We don’t need to go about looking for the dead among the living, and we certainly don’t need to go about living like the dead among the living.

Jesus put death in its place. He is alive today…in every one of us! His resurrection did take place. We are assured this day, that a similar future awaits each of us.

Let’s help each other to remember this. We need to be reminded of the truth of the alleluia over and over again.

In the mean time…become a living Alleluia.

May our lives sing Alleluia into our world!

What It Means to Be an Episcopalian, Part Four

This is the fourth and last in a series of sermons that has incorporated information on who we Episcopalians are and how we have come to be who we think we are.

I’ve been drawing from a variety of sources, but most often from a book entitled Jesus was an Episcopalian (and you can be one too) by the Rev. Chris Yaw.

If you look at our history, one might say that we have defined who we are more by who we aren’t. This has become apparent to me when I’ve taught confirmation classes for adults. Their point of reference tended to be either Protestant or Roman Catholic and it was my job to define what it was to be an Episcopalian against those two poles. So, perhaps we do define ourselves by who we aren’t.

Popular culture often dismisses the Episcopal Church by what it isn’t as well. How many times have you heard people say that we are “Catholic Lite,” or maybe “The Catholic Church but without all the guilt”?

I can imagine there are those on the fundamentalist end of the spectrum who say that we are obsessed with being too politically correct and therefore have lost our moorings.

As I said in sermon number two, we tend to be a church that sees our belief system more as a rudder than as an anchor. With a rudder, we can leave the port and explore the world. With an anchor, you don’t get around much.

We also believe that God is not finished speaking and he continues to “make all things new” through us.

So today, I want to say something about who we are becoming, who we might be…next year, next decade, on into the future. IF THERE IS A FUTURE!

You don’t have to look far to see or hear predictions of the end of the world. Why, just this morning (!) I turned on the television and there it was. I think the History Channel must be owned by End Times fanatics, as every other program has something to do with this prediction or that. Have you noticed that?

There is a whole cult now around the prediction that there will be a cataclysmic change to the world on December 21, 2012, based on predictions made in the Mayan calendar. That date just happens to be the Feast of St. Thomas. I seriously believe that we should begin planning one huge party. Let’s plan to party (or, it won’t matter).

In some Christian circles the words “prophet” and “prophecy” conjure up all sorts of images based on these end-times predictions. Many think of Jesus’ return on a white horse, “the Rapture” or the final bloody battle of Armageddon! There’s a ton of speculation and many are getting rich trying to scare people.

There are even bumper sticker wars. On one side you might see this: “In Case of Rapture This Car Will be Unmanned!” On the other side you might see: “In Case of Rapture I Get Dibs on Your Car!”

Episcopalians believe the universe is in God’s hands and whatever’s going to happen should be faced with hope, courage and joyful expectation.

In today’s readings, we have two examples of God’s habit of drawing near. Abram is shown the stars and told that his descendants will be as numerous. What we don’t hear is that Abram and his wife Sarai were very old. To be told that you were going to give birth, was nothing short of miraculous.

Something tells me that when Abram stood and look up at those stars, he must have felt God’s love quite intimately. God’s habit is to draw near. This God who created light with a single command is also a God who will not let us go.

As far as I’m concerned, there seems to be no good reason for God to draw near to us except God’s sheer love for his creation. Also, there appears to be no traceable rule that drives God to become flesh in Christ. The eternal question: why did God do this? Admitting that we are broken, frail, prone to war and death, we confess that we do desperately need this incarnation of God.

Friends, there is no other reason for God to become bone and blood, and vulnerable, other than God’s magnificent love. Jesus did not come down out of revenge or one-upmanship, or to settle a score. After having decided to whisper everything into existence, from our breath to the stars above, to shape time and hope, God has also chosen to take on our lives with all our quirks, sins and stubbornness. God’s habit is to draw near—out of sheer love. Lent is a season in which to look at ourselves and see just how much closer WE have moved toward God.

God has sent an icon for that in the shape of Jesus. There is no greater icon and this one is free, willing, and coming at us with the speed of the prodigal son’s father as long as we so much as look in his direction.

The Bible is a record of God’s faithfulness and our doubt, God’ unimaginable love for us and our inability to let go of ourselves to live fully in that love or trust that, despite appearances, God will not leave us or fail us.

In Christ, God longs to gather all his children, as a hen gathers her brood. Only a deep, resistant, equally stubborn and foolish love can speak like this; only a love that is willing to give all, risk all.

Only a God who enters into death can promise that there is nothing in the whole universe that can separate us from who God is.

And what is our response?

I’m here to tell you that there are prophets among us, prophets in the Episcopal Church even, right here in River City! These prophets are beginning to stand up and tell the Frozen Chosen that we must speak truth to power, that we must speak justice to oppression.

We must support the soup kitchen, but we must move on to threaten the causes of poverty and fear…with Christian activism. Just one avenue for acting on this prophesy was the creation of Episcopal Relief and Development, which we’ll hear about more in just a few minutes.

What does it mean to be an Episcopalian today? It means living into God’s promise to make all things new—to trust that God has a better world in mind and that we have been given the gifts to help bring it about. This is part of our baptismal vow. We respond with “I will” to the command “to strive for justice and peace among all peoples” and…”respect the dignity of every human being.” (BCP 304)

If I could sum up the greatest characteristic of transition within the Episcopal Church, it would be that I’m seeing a small band of disciples striking out in both local and global ways to respond to God’s love.

We are doing this by not wasting time trying to enforce the rules concerning who is and who isn’t inside the fence. Instead, we are climbing over any fences and going out into a world that so desperately needs us. In Christ, we know that God did not want to remain in the heavens. In Christ, we know that we must not remain in our comfort zones for the sake of a needy world.

In the book that I referenced earlier, there is a list that some seminarian posed. Here are ten things that he/she thinks we should be doing as we wait for that final day, whether it is two years from now, or two millennia.

1. Be a pilgrim. Chose some place, either physically or spiritually, and set out on the journey. Make sure you are going somewhere. Expect surprises along the way.
2. Incorporate outreach goals into your personal and church budgets. Use the United Nations Millenium Development Goals as a jumping off point.
3. Eat ice cream. A spoonful is known to trigger the part of the brain known to activate when people enjoy themselves. Combine this with a ride on a swing set.
4. Be a minister, regardless of whether or not you wear a collar.
5. Plant a tree. There will be substantial significance to planting a seed and watching it grow into something that will stand long after you are gone.
6. Do what you can do to make soup kitchens unnecessary.
7. Be reconciled with everyone. Go and find estranged relatives and friends and begin the work of forgiveness. Offer it and receive it.
8. Gather some friends and watch a good documentary movie. Challenge yourselves to change one thing about the way you live for the sake of future generations.
9. Tithe. No, seriously. Getting to this ancient level of giving will transform your sense of community and ideas about what really belongs to God.
10. Join life. Pray ceaselessly. Go skinny-dipping. Sing boldly in the shower and in church! Don’t wait for the Second Coming in the cowering position. Refuse to be terrified. If we love God, we trust God.

Friends, God chose to enter into our particular time and place and love us with a wild and magnificent love, even though we are difficult creatures to love. And ever since, the universe has been jarred: dust is still flying, surprises abound, and miracles happen.

Lent helps us remember that all our sorrows and our hopes are taken into God through Christ.

The only thing that remains fixed, the sole certainty in this uncertain world, is a heartbreaking promise, that magnificent love.

What will we do to take a few more steps in that direction?

What It Means to Be an Episcopalian, Part Three

This is the third in a series of four sermons that will incorporate information on who we Episcopalians are and how we have come to be who we think we are.

This morning, I want to talk about the Roots, the Ropes and the Map.

Last Sunday, I introduced the origins of the Church of England and said something about what it means to be an Anglican vs. a Roman Catholic or a Protestant.

I neglected to give sufficient credit to Thomas Cranmer, who was the author of the first Book of Common Prayer. He was the archbishop under King Henry VIII. It was his prayerbook that was the groundbreaker. In some villages in Britain, when the king’s men brought the new prayerbook, the messenger was actually killed!

People were very serious about their worship and quite a bit of blood was shed before things settled down. It was the keen and very firm hand of Elizabeth I to steadied the boat. In the 45 years of her reign, Britons came to accept the idea that the monarch was now both their queen and the head of their church.

As I mentioned, membership in the Church of England was mandatory and it was literally centuries before any other faith communities were tolerated. The clergy of the day, including the hierarchy of the Church were appointed by the crown. And so, everyone was essentially a civil servant you might say. This is pretty much the same today.

The Church of England did not tolerate diversity nor dissention very well, so you can imagine the reception given the Americans after the Revolution.

In order for the American church to grow (or actually re-grow), we needed some bishops. The mother church had never granted the American colonies that luxury. When the new Americans came to London to ask for a bishop, they were told that an oath to the Crown would first be necessary. Well, that wasn’t going to happen!

We found friends among the Scots up north and in 1789, Samuel Seabury was consecrated the first American bishop by three Scottish bishops. As a thank you to the Scots, our church flag features the St. Andrew cross, the cross of the Scottish Church in the upper corner. The larger, red cross, the St. John Cross, is emblematic of our English heritage. The colors are American red, white and blue.
During the years leading up to the American Revolution, organized religion almost went completely dormant. Deism siezed the minds of many people and the association of the Anglican Church with our overlords in England didn’t help either.

So, after the Revolution, there was much retrenching to be done. The American church would now be called the Episcopal Church in the USA and on into the 19th century built many new churches throughout the western end of the colonies and on out to the frontier. St. Thomas is a good example of one of the many churches planted by Bishop John Henry Hobart.

The early church was founded by many of the same people who shaped our national government, so it should be little surprise that our church government is very similar.

The Church is governed by a General Convention that meets every three years. There are two houses: The House of Bishops would be similar to the Senate, where bishops serve many years. The House of Deputies consists of delegations from every diocese. Each delegation has eight elected members: four lay and four clergy. Any resolution or piece of legislation has to pass both houses to become church law.

On a local level, we are part of a diocese which can be likened to a state. The bishop is like the governor. Each diocese has districts which are like counties. I am the dean of this district, so maybe I’m like a county executive? Then each parish would be like a village or town, with the rector being the mayor.

During the 19th century, a battle heated up between that part of our church that wanted to follow a more evangelical theology and style of worship, and those who wanted to adopt what they called an Anglo-Catholic form. Now, the Church has always had two camps and it still does. “Evangelical” didn’t mean the same as it does today. Evanglicals were not fundamentalists but they did place more emphasis on the sermon than on communion.

The Anglo-Catholics wanted to recapture pre-reformational worship practices that included symbolism, the sacraments, and a reverence for mystery.

Ideological schisms are nothing new. People fought tooth and nail over things like candles on the altar and vestments. I think it’s safe to say that the influences of the Anglo-catholic movement won out, otherwise I’d be wearing street clothes right now.

How we worship has long been at the heart of both disagreement and also what we can be most proud of. The Book of Common Prayer contains brilliant poetry and prose and has been the model for worship in other denominations including the United Methodist and Presbyterian Churches.

Episcopalians love their prayerbook so much that when they finally get around to reading the Bible, they are comforted in the fact that the Bible quotes the Prayerbook so often!

I hope you know that I’m kidding. The BCP, as it is more commonly known, is very Bible-centric and as we go through the lectionary, you can often hear a phrase or sentence that is often used in our worship.

The Prayerbook is that red-covered book in front of you. It contains 1,001 pages which is exactly the amount that will allow it to fit into the pew rack!

Our prayerbook is a more recent edition. In the American Church, we have a tradition of updating our prayerbook and this is the 1979 edition. I would like to tell you just a little about it. First a story.

When I was at the Church of the Epiphany in Rochester, I helped to offer a course on Islam for the parishioners. As we were in between the two invasions of Iraq, there was quite a bit of interest.
We listened as our Muslim speakers told about their daily prayer practice—of stopping and saying prayers at certain times of the year.

The parishioners immediately wanted to know if Christians (specifically Episcopalians) did the same.
This, of course, revealed that they had never really looked at the Prayerbook. In it you will find prayers for morning, noon, evening, and nighttime.

We were caught up short in that our Muslim brothers and sisters were more devout in their daily prayers. And, our religion is 500 years older; we should be ashamed.

If you flip through the book, you’ll see other sections devoted to prayers (we sometimes call them Collects), liturgies for special days (such as Ash Wednesday), and Holy Baptism, Holy Eucharist (or communion), the Pastoral Offices (other sacraments), the Psalter (where all the psalms live) and in the back is the Catechism which is the place where some of the most basic questions of our faith are answered.

Some of you will notice that today we will be using Rite I of the two Eucharistic settings. Rite I contains the Elizabethan language of earlier prayer books. The previous 1928 Prayerbook had ONLY this language.

When the so-called new Prayerbook was written, there was a major shift from the language of unworthiness in Rite I to the more affirming tone of Rite II.

In Rite II, I always make reference to the fact that Jesus’ sacrifice allows us to STAND before God (as opposed to groveling).

Right in our own parishes, we see vividly the transition between the two prayer books played out in whether people kneel or stand for the consecration prayers. Kneeling came into the church in the 18th and 19th centuries; it has not always been the norm. Standing is actually an older posture—Jesus would have stood to pray; but kneeling is just as acceptable.

In today’s Old Testament reading from the third book of the Bible, we are reminded of the posture before God that is designed to remind us of God’s role in our history.

God told Moses that at the beginning of each harvest, people are to bring a portion of the first fruits of their labor (later known as a tithe) and present it to the priest at the Temple.

This was to be a symbolic reminder that “All things come of Thee O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.” Sound familiar?

This may give you a new appreciation for the incredibly long tradition of bringing a portion of God’s bounty to the altar just before our sacred meal.

Bringing the token portion of one’s bounty to God, helped to remind everyone that they owe their very safety and existence to God.

The reading of the scriptures every Sunday remind us that we are part of a very long story—a story that continues, literally thanks be to God.

The Jews rehearsed their exodus story every time they gathered for worship or a meal. In today’s New Testament reading, Paul is reminding the church in Rome that Christians must not forget their exodus experience either.

This is right in line with what Lent offers us. And it is that tether to God that Jesus offers us.
And it is that story that Paul refers to when he says, “The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart.”

This past Wednesday we struck out into the desert spaces alongside Jesus, receiving a cross of ashes on our forehead, or on our heart, to begin the Lenten season.

Ash Wednesday calls upon our humanity. It reminds us that we are but dust and to dust we shall return. It reminds us of our own fragility.

Today’s scriptures call to mind that same tenuous grasp we hold on life.

In the psalm, we are called to trust in God’s mercy, to take refuge in the Lord. The fragility that we experience in our lives does not need to stir up fear and anxiety in us. We are freed by faith to take refuge, to trust, to be held safe in the arms of grace—to grasp the tether.

And finally Paul calls us to an incredible, empowering humility. “For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek,” all who confess faith in Jesus Christ are opened to the possibility of life redeemed and reconciled to God. We are not saved by works or by merit, but simply and wholly by that grace that comes from orienting our lives toward Christ.

What will this Lenten season be for you, where you are, on your Christian journey toward Jerusalem? What of thankfulness, trust, and humility will you seek to help you as you progress toward new or renewed life in Christ Jesus?

“The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart”

Let’s look at Jesus’ trip out into the desert. He didn’t strike out into the wilderness with a stack of self-help books, a water bottle or his an ab circle pro machine. He was “driven out” by the Spirit, so we might assume he left in a bit of a hurry: his wallet, cell phone, and keys still on the nightstand, you might say. His journey into the wilderness was definitely a test. And like most tests, he couldn’t use his notes. ou might say he was naked, that is, stripped down to simply his self.

Faced with the incredible temptations of his human frailty, the devil offered the easiest defense against that frailty: the ability to control – to create food where there is none, to rule with power, to defy his physical nature. But instead, Jesus stood firm in his humanity, clothed only with thankfulness, trust, and humility.

Thankful for the nourishment that is not food, trusting in the God that does not need testing, and humble enough to obey the law given him by his ancestors and inspired by God, Jesus resisted temptation and in doing that prepared himself to begin his ministry. Is there a role model in the room?

Now, for many of us, there is no greater fear than being naked in front of others. We are confronted by so many unrealistic expectations of our bodies in the media that the realness of our own bodies becomes frightening and shaming. I know whereof I speak!

Our lack of control, of youth, of power become reasons for hiding. And not just literally, physically. We hide behind our fears, and we hide behind our scars.

It is natural in a world that is struggling to accommodate so many people that each of us as individuals can actually become invisible. And when we become invisible, it’s easy to run into us, like furniture in a darkened room. We are so good at hiding.

This Lent challenge yourself, not to be more of who you feel the world is calling you to be: the easy and unrealistic thinner, fitter, smarter, or faster. Perhaps not even who your community or your family are calling you to be!

I challenge you to be spiritually naked, to confront yourself with whom your God is calling you to be: frail, humble, thankful, trusting…human.

What does ‘human’ look like?

It can be hard to see ourselves in a natural, liberating light. But this Lent, look. Try! Perhaps that is as far as you will get this Lent, to look upon yourself. Perhaps that is as far as you need to get!! God will let you know.

Have faith, there is a triumphant entry coming around April 4; a table full of friends, a cross and an empty tomb waiting for every one of us.

But for now, in the meantime, in this Lenten time, simply look, and remember that the Word is so very near to you, “on your lips and in your heart.”

Amen.

What It Means to Be an Episcopalian, Part Two

“Therefore since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.” 2 Corinthians 4:1-2

Last week I set the stage for a four-part series on the Episcopal Church and what it means to be called an Episcopalian. This is the second installment in that series.

The statement that I just read could have been written in the 16^th century when our church was formed. Instead it was written by Saint Paul to the new church in Corinth. They too were in transition—transition to becoming a Christian community.

Some might say that our church was born out of wedlock. The Roman Catholic Church say that we excommunicated ourselves thanks to the whims of King Henry VIII.

It could be argued that we have never left the catholic church, but could be considered as protesting catholics. That is after all, where the word “protestant” comes from. And the word “catholic” means universal.

We are proud to be protesting catholics because we hold to a faith that is broad and yearns to be universal.

Our opening collects or prayers often speak of our desire that Jesus’ love and salvation reach to the ends of the earth. To that extent, we are catholics.

The Episcopal Church is a descendant of the Church of England. Reminders of our English heritage are all around us.

St. Thomas’ church edifice was designed by an Englishman named Henry Dudley. He was part of a movement that brought the revival of gothic architecture and worship to this country in the 19^th century. Most Episcopal churches are dripping in Englishness, from our walls and windows to our worship and music.

But our heritage is even broader than that. And that broadness is apparent in the birth of the Church of England.

Contrary to popular belief, the church was not formed solely because Henry was angry with the Roman church over a divorce that he wanted.

Even before Henry came along, there had been a lot of strife between the English and their continental religious overlords. Henry’s marriages simply allowed the government to act on something that probably would have happened eventually.

In the early 1500’s, King Henry VIII and Parliament said they no longer wanted the Pope ruling England’s churches—or taking its money.

Know that the newly formed Church of England didn’t change its worship or theology. But, as the Protestants on the European continent gained power, the English church came under increasing pressure to change what it believed.

A succession of monarchs in England caused the new church to move either toward the Roman Catholic side of the spectrum or the Protestant side and during both Edward VI’s and Mary Tudor’s reigns hundreds of people were killed in the name of religion.

When Elizabeth I took the throne, England was a mess. She knew that she had to find a compromise, a middle way. Elizabeth saw to it that much of traditional Roman Catholic faith and practice stuck around. She sympathized with Protestants by making sure that English language Bibles were available in parishes. This was radical for the times and represents the new church’s belief that interpretation of scripture was not to be the domain of a few, but available to all.

While she made church membership mandatory, she also gave lots of latitude to individual conscience. She told Parliament, “The Church shall not build windows into men’s souls.”

I am fond of pointing out that our eucharistic prayer contains the quintessence of the types of compromises that she fostered.  If you look on page 362, you’ll see where I say the words “This is my body, which is given for you.” which is a bow to the Roman Catholic understanding of the real presence of Christ in the bread and the wine. Right next door are the words “Do this for the remembrance of me.”

Now while these are words right out of the Gospel of Matthew, they were inserted to please the Protestants who viewed communion as purely symbolic, a memorial of that famous meal.
It is that showing of respect for the beliefs of others that has put us in the forefront of reconciliation efforts of all types. We Episcopalians are not prone to either/or but both/and. While some people say we’re indecisive and lukewarm, our inclusiveness and acceptance is something we really value.
Most of us see compromise and negotiation as a way to practice Christian charity. We also see it as vital to the work of advancing the Gospel.

How many of us have learned that the truth is rarely lying at the extremes, but is usually found somewhere in the middle. And that is who we are, not Roman Catholic nor Protestant, but Anglican.
We stand apart from our Christian sisters and brothers in believing and living out the belief that we do not own the altar. Christ’s altar is intended for everybody. No matter what our differences, we shall always come together around one altar.

A bishop once said, “We don’t gather around the Communion Table to escape the world’s problems, but to escape the world’s answers.” (Bishop Arthur Vogel)

Our church does not have much in the way of doctrine. Doctrine is the codified theology of a church and we prefer that we remain open to a living Spirit that will guide us as needed. I mentioned last week that we believe that all things need to be seen through the three lenses of scripture, reason and tradition.

And if we are known for nothing more, it would be that we take our worship very seriously. Every Sunday is Thanksgiving Sunday. We always use the best dishes, the best silver, the best linens, the best of everything! Our reverence for beauty is an expression of our gratitude for God.

Our worship is communal! At the end of a service where the bishop was the celebrant, an annoyed parishioner remarked that she didn’t like that last hymn. The bishop replied, “That’s OK, we didn’t pick it for you.”

And perhaps this is where we part company so sharply with our secular culture.

I am part of the Me-generation and thanks to my generation, our society is rife with narcissistic tendencies. There are a lot of churches that promote this and many have grown quite large. It’s all about Jesus and me?

But here, it’s not about you. It’s about us, the people of God. And from there, we realize that it’s all about God.

And we Episcopalians use all the senses in this quest to be with God and be found by God. We need to connect, spiritually, but especially physically. And that is why we get up and come up for communion. We bow and kneel, and stand and sit—a lot!

One Christmas Eve, I went to the Presbyterian Church with my mother. The service was pleasant enough, but when I left, I felt as though I hadn’t been to church! There was no communion, no parading around, no Episcopal calisthenics!

In our lessons this morning, we can see that our calisthenics, our choreography goes back a long way. Often when I lift the gospel book up high before reading from it, I think of Charlton Heston and the Ten Commandments.

Our worship is more Jewish that many of you know. If you were to go to a worship service in a synagogue, you would hear readings from the Bible just as we do. This is a rehearsing of our story.
But Jesus changed everything and nothing has been the same, just as those disciples were changed forever after seeing Jesus transfigured on that mountain top.

Just like in Jesus’ day, a sacred meal was shared in conjunction with religious rites. However, Jesus gave whole new meaning to both the bread and the wine.

And we continue to be shaped by our worship. Saying the same words over and over until we internalize them, helps our faith sink in…deep.

Lucky for us though, we can encounter God without our faces glowing! Although, I must say, our evangelistic efforts would be so much easier for us if we did glow in public. [sung-said] “Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our glow, by our glow; yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our glow.”
And now a few words about today’s Bible readings.

It is absolutely critical to remember that everyone in our scripture readings today is a Jew and everyone reading (or hearing) this passage back then was a Jew. It would have been so obvious for them that the Transfiguration of Jesus was a recalling of the Moses-on-the-mountain symbolism.
It was the custom in those days to seek the highest hill on which to pray. Praying on a high place was more efficient because it was closer to God. The Temple in Jerusalem was built on the highest hill.
Just like Moses and Elijah–the Bible’s number one and number two prophets, Jesus has had his mountaintop experiences. While on this mountaintop, the two prophets confer with Jesus on his impending exodus experience. Do you suppose they were reassuring him that the story will have a happy ending? After this point, Jesus turns toward Jerusalem and his ultimate exodus through a very harsh desert, crucifixion, and eventual resurrection on the other side of the mountain.
Before we have a chance to find out, one of those symbolic clouds rolls in and interrupts the disciples, just about the time they are considering boxing in their experience with booths for each of the transfigured beings.

How typically human to want to hang on to a mountain-top experience. But…God has other things in mind and that smoke-like cloud takes over.

By placing Jesus between the law and the prophets, his spiritual lineage is validated. Then, by leaving Jesus standing alone, after the cloud rolls away, I believe Jesus’ solitary power, his solitary authority is emphasized. To take this idea home, God once again utters that this is his son, the chosen one. God also commands that we “listen to him.”

Unlike at the baptism of Christ, this time the disciples actually hear the words of God and make no mistake, in that moment, Jesus wasn’t the only one who was transfigured.

Despite this the Disciples manage to keep this amazing scenario quiet and they ponder it in their hearts for another day–a day when it will all make sense to them.

While the scene of the Transfiguration hearkens back to Moses, you’ll notice that there isn’t any reference to a veil. Jesus isn’t wearing any kind of headgear. At least it’s not specifically mentioned as in the scripture reading from Exodus. His face does change and we are to assume that it becomes dazzling like his clothes.

But there’s no veil on Jesus. No need of a veil.

In our reading from Paul’s second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul makes a very big deal of this veil business.

Paul is never a man to mince words. Here he is telling us that there is no need for veils in the new church being formed. Veils are only for those old followers of Moses. And for a moment, Paul gets downright self-righteous about not being one of “those people” who still need their veils in order to read their scripture. He says, “Do you believe this?! To this very day whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their minds.”

IF you substitute “blinders” for the word veil, then you get the real meaning of Paul’s jab at the followers of the law. Those stuck on only interpreting the world through rules and regulations, as set down in the Old Testament, the Law, are not seeing the whole world, but only part of it, because of the blinders they are wearing.

Paul goes on… “But when one turns to the Lord, the veil (the blinders) is removed. …where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

And a little bit farther… “And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”
I submit to you that Paul is an Episcopalian! More succinctly, Paul is modeling for us a theology that is at the heart of Anglicanism!

In this passage, it seems to me that Paul is saying that those Moses people, the people of the veil (or blinders) are relying strictly on their laws.

Paul says that Jesus came to abolish not the law, but the veil–the blinders. Jesus has given that all important peripheral vision that we all need to successfully navigate this complex world.

It’s a though Jesus has come into the world to rip the veils off of everyone’s face. He’s boldly proclaiming…take those blinders off…look around you and see God reflected in each other!

What do you see? You see ME!

My glory is YOU and little by little, degree of glory by degree of glory…you are becoming ME!
And, with that pep talk of all pep talks, we are emboldened to, as Paul says, “engage in this ministry. We do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides (off with those blinders); we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word (we will not engage in proof-texting of scripture and we will not beat anyone over their head with our Bible!).

And… Paul concludes that “by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.”

That means that we should always weigh any reading of scripture, any statement of faith, against our common experience of tradition and reason. And, we will value the ‘conscience of everyone…in the sight of God.” That is core of our identity as Anglicans.

These are both glorious statements of our faith and powerful words to reflect upon, especially in light of the current turmoil within our church.

It is perhaps particularly appropriate also to ponder these words as we stand on the cusp of the season of Lent.

As we approach the beginning of the Lenten season, a season of introspection, perhaps one of the following questions might be appropriate for your own Lenten journey:

• Are there issues or concerns that I have that might require some blinder removal?
• Am I just hoping for mountaintop experiences or am I adequately living into the valleys in my life?
• What parts of my life am I trying to hide from the Lord with smoke or mirrors?
• Is my prayer life vital, or, like those disciples on the mountain, am I too prone to sleeping through moments that could be time for prayer?
• Am I expecting a total make-over, a complete transfiguration, when it would be better to anticipate and appreciate the more modest degrees of glory in my journey?

And finally…

If the word “Epiphany” means “showing forth,” and the word “Lent” comes from the word for lengthen, then during this Lenten season, how will you purpose to notice that you really are being transformed by the Spirit, day by day, act by act, degree by degree?

How will you let your face show forth the glory of God in Jesus Christ?

This little face of mine, I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Amen!

What It Means to Be an Episcopalian, Part One

While I don’t need a title for this sermon, as few did come to mind:
1. “It’s a wonder any of us are still here”
2. “Why me? And other excuses”
And my favorite which is taken from a book that I’ll be referencing:
3. “Jesus was an Episcopalian and you can be one too!”

I am approaching the topic of being a Christian–who happens to be Episcopalian–because many of us these days are not life-long Episcopalians and it is time that we start back at square one and look at who we are and why.

All good stories begin with once upon a time, so…

Once upon a time, there was a church known as the Episcopal Church in the USA. It had other names. Two of the more polite ones were—The Republican Party at Prayer, and God’s Frozen Chosen. And we pretty much deserved those appellations.

Throughout the nineteenth century and well into the 20th century, the Episcopal Church was THE church to belong to if you were rich and if you were climbing the social ladder. Now we could vie with the Presbyterians on these points, but we KNEW that we were it.

We smugly claim that one-quarter of our presidents have been Episcopalians, more than any other denomination. That includes Washington, Jefferson, FDR, and George H.W. Bush. Three-quarters of the signers of the Declaration of Independence were Anglicans. Roughly one-third of all US Supreme Court Justices have been Episcopalians, far more than any other denomination, including Thurgood Marshall, Sandra Day O’Connor and David Souter. Episcopalians commanded 42 seats in the 109th Congress, about 33 more than their current share of the US population would warrant.

But the Episcopal Church that some of us knew as recent as thirty years ago, has changed substantially. We are in transition. But then, our whole society is in major transition.

It’s a wonder any of us are here. To be an Episcopalian today means that we are beating huge odds.

It can be said that the US is a nation of very religious people. 85% of Americans claim that they have some level of allegiance to the Christian faith, and yet very few people know very much about religion, especially the Christian faith.

Recent polls show that Christians have a very serious image problem among the next generations. The vast majority, something like 96% of those age 16-29 view Christians as hostile, arrogant, judgmental, hypocritical, anti-homosexual, old-fashioned, too political, insensitive, out of touch, and…just plain boring!

We also sit in a nation that has been dumbed down and hurried up. We are a people who are constantly sifting through all sorts of information and directions. We are in such a hurry, with “no time for faith” (as many of my wedding couples tell me).

We are constantly assaulted by an aggressive media; we are victims of broken homes, decreased parental control and parenting skills; increased workplace demands and a world with no time(!)…we just don’t have time…to talk to each other, to think, to write, or just pay attention! We are too busy coping with uncertainty.

This is the context in which all of us find ourselves. And maybe we cling to too much of our established churchy ways when we know in our heart of hearts that:
• Jesus had no intentions of setting up bureaucracies nor supporting an established church.
• Jesus came to shatter the power structure and change the way we think.
• Jesus came to start a revolution.
• Jesus’ message was so attractive that people sold everything they had to practice what he taught—and minister to the poor, the suffering and the afflicted. The story of the fishermen leaving everything behind and joining Jesus is a good example of this.
• Jesus asked his followers to take the same actions as he did—to reach beyond themselves.

It is amazing that anyone would follow—isn’t it?

But over two millenia, billions have. At least we’ve tried. We have had successes and we have had failures. God’s Church goes up and down in its faithfulnness. When some parts struggle, other parts take off. We evolve in fits and starts.

Here are some statistics that may be of interest:
• 7,200 Episcopal parishes in the U.S.
• Average Sunday attendance at an average parish is 129 people
• We number 2.3 million members (there are 11 million Anglicans in Kenya)
• 52% of our churches were built before 1950
• We are one of 44 national and regional church that make up the Anglican Communion, which has about 80 million members (the third largest group of Christians on earth).
• The word Episcopal is an adjective as in The Episcopal Church. The word Episcopalian is a noun. A person is an Episcopalian, but does not attend an Episcopalian Church.
• I ran into a woman who said that she had been an “Episcopal” for 30 years. No, she hadn’t, because at some point someone would have corrected her. People are Episcopalians, most everything else is Episcopal.
• That word comes from the Greek word for bishop. Our clergy are either bishops, priests or deacons which are based on the three orders as described in the Bible.

We have been called the Thinking Person’s Church. 70% of all Episcopalians started out as something else. Perhaps we have a higher ratio of thinkers because of that statistic. A majority of us have made the decision to switch to this church. We’ve given it some thought.

Someone has said that we are the Church of the least-annoying people. Instead of forcing our brand of Christianity on others, we are prone to step back and allow lots of room for personal interpretation.
We believe in a faith that is like a camera tripod. A tripod has three legs and in order for the camera to be stable, each leg is equally important.

The first leg would be scripture, the Bible. But we do not believe that scripture can stand without interpretation and we call that Reason. When you combine all the reasoning that has gone on over 2,000 years, you have the third leg—tradition.

We have a limitless respect for continuing revelation. We don’t believe that God has stopped speaking and that, in the context of community, we DO come to new conclusions on interpretation of scripture.
We love the questions, more than the answers!

We are proud of the fact that we tolerate ambiguity and uncertainty. We believe that certainty is the opposite of faith. We are therefore very uncomfortable around people who think they have it all figured out. We are humble enough to know that we will never have it all figured out and that is one of God’s best attributes. Most of the time, we like God’s surprises. It has been said that the Episcopal Church is the roomiest Church in all of Christianity!

Here’s a joke that exemplifies that:

A Baptist minister, a Catholic priest and an Episcopal priest arrived in heaven and stood in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

“I’ll let you in,” said Peter, “Only if you can give me the correct answer to this question: Who do you say Jesus Christ of Nazareth is?”

The three ministers scratched their heads. The Baptist spoke up first. “Well,” he said, “the Bible says…” St. Peter immediately interrupted. “I’m sorry, but perhaps you didn’t understand the question, I asked who do YOU say that Jesus is? You can’t come into heaven.”

The Catholic priest then spoke up. “Well,” he said, “the Pope says…” Again, St. Peter interrupted, “I’m sorry, but I asked you who do YOU say that Jesus is? You can’t come into heaven either.”

It was now up to the Episcopal priest who immediately chimed in and said, “Jesus of Nazareth is the only Son of God, the Holy One who came to redeem the world from sin and He is my Lord and Savior.”

A smile drew across St. Peter’s face. Just as he began to usher the priest into heaven she turned around and added, “But on the other hand…”

Episcopalians have a reputation for looking at both sides of the coin. Some people give us credit for our patience and evenhandedness. Others say that we are wishy-washy or politically correct to extremes.

We are actually right in the dead center of a long line of Christian thought that believes one of the main thrusts of Jesus’ message is acceptance, openness and inclusion. Jesus is love in the flesh and he is the host at that unending dinner party where all are welcome.

For Episcopalians, our faith is like a rudder, allowing us to navigate life’s waters, not an anchor, keeping us tied to a particular place or doctrine.

Like Isaiah, we boldly say “Send me” but this response to God is perhaps more intense in these latter days.

The Episcopal Church has gone from being the establishment Church to the Church of the marginalized. We are aware that God is calling all of us, every one of us. Sooner or later, we will all face the question, “Who, me?”

We do counter-cultural things like enter into a season called Lent where we ponder just that very question, “Who, me?” And I’m proud to say that our entire Church continually struggles with this question and more and more, we are taking up the cross of Jesus and moving from our comfortable pews to the streets—as Jesus commands us to do.