Hristos Voskrese

It is an old and simple tale, familiar in many forms, almost certainly apocryphal. Yet it is worth the telling again, for it is deeply true.

It is the 1920s in Communist Russia. A minor Party functionary has been dispatched to a small town to close its Orthodox church. He gathers the entire populace in the square and for hours rails against the faith, demonstrating conclusively that its doctrines are false, its miracles – particularly the Resurrection – are lies, and it canons oppressive. The Party is the way forward; to the Party belongs the future. Satisfied with his commanding performance, the official prepares to leave when the town’s old priest rises and asks to address the people. Dismissively, the official grants him two minutes – not a second more. “I will not need that long,” says the priest. “I have only two words.”

The priest mounts the podium, faces the people, crosses himself in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and in a loud voice proclaims to the crowd, “Hristos voskrese (Christ is risen)!” Hearing the words which had been proclaimed for a thousand years in all their churches, the people stand as one and shout, “Voistinu voskrese (He is risen indeed)!”

The church has been speaking this truth to power from the moment the stone rolled away from the tomb and Christ strode forward trampling down death by death and upon those in the tombs bestowing life. Let us take our place in this long line of proclamation and confess, not only with our lips but in our lives:

Hristos voskrese.
Voistinu voskrese.

Christos anesti.
Alithos anesti.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Holy Saturday: Rejoice, O Adam

You, O Adam, are become unto us as Egypt,
for in you were we sold into bondage,
in you did we know a harsh taskmaster,
a stubborn and heart-hardened Pharaoh,
in you did sin bind us and death strike us down.

Your firstborn son, O Adam, was not flesh and blood, but death:
his birthright your offspring,
his inheritance Hades.
To him did we all go down and make obeisance.
To him were we all enslaved.

But God came to Horeb, O Adam,
and there appeared in the womb of the Virgin –
a bush burning but not consumed,
a womb bearing but undefiled,
holy ground on which God spoke his name in flesh and blood.

I am the God of your father –
the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob.
I have surely seen the oppression of my people in Egypt,
and I know their sorrows.
So I have come, O Adam; I will deliver them, O Egypt.

Behold, O Adam, the Paschal Lamb –
the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world – comes to you.
Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: Let my people go.
Harken not to this word, O Death, and harden your heart, O Sin,
that the Lord may strike you with the rod of his power.

Look now, O Adam; see the Lamb slain,
high and lifted up on the tree of life, blood staining doorposts and lintels.
Now is judgment come upon you, O Egypt,
now is the rod of iron shattered,
now are the chains rent asunder.

Woe to your firstborn son, O Adam,
for death has come upon death and the sea of Hades is parted
as a curtain rent from top to bottom.
A way is made through the sea, through the veil,
for all your free children are led by cloud and fire, by wind and Spirit.

Rejoice in this Passover, O Adam,
for you, too, are set free
and made in Him a land of promise.
You are not left desolate but are taken by the hand
and led forth in triumphal procession.

Rejoice in this Passover, O Adam,
for death is trampled down by death,
bondage is bound, and Hades is despoiled.
Rejoice in this Passover, O Adam, for the Lamb has paid the debt of your sin,
and by his blood delivered your faithful children.

[I commend to your reading a reflection for Holy Saturday by St. Epiphanios of Salamis posted at Full of Grace and Truth: Christ's Descent Into Hades.]

Paschal Hours

During Bright Week -- from Pascha (Easter Sunday) through the following Saturday -- we replace Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer with the Paschal Hours. The following is taken from Holy Cross Antiochian Orthodox Church Daily Prayers with minimal adaptation.

PASCHAL HOURS

PRIEST: Blessed is our God, always, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages

(But a layman sayeth: Through the prayers of our holy fathers, O Lord Jesus Christ, our God, have mercy on us.)

Amen. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life. (Thrice)

Having beheld the resurrection of Christ, let us worship the holy Lord Jesus, the only Sinless One. We worship Thy cross, O Christ, and Thy holy Resurrection we hymn and glorify; for Thou art our God, and we know none other beside Thee, and we call upon Thy name. O come, all ye faithful, let us worship Christ's holy Resurrection, for behold, through the Cross joy hath come to all the world. Ever blessing the Lord, we hymn His Resurrection; for, having endured crucifixion, He hath destroyed death by death. (Thrice)

Forestalling the dawn, the women came with Mary, and found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre, and heard from the angel: why seek ye among the dead, as though He were a mortal, Him Who liveth in everlasting light? Behold the grave-clothes. Go quickly and proclaim to the world that the Lord is risen and hath slain death. For He is the Son of God Who saveth mankind.

Though Thou didst descend into the grave, O Immortal One, yet didst Thou destroy the power of hades. And didst arise as victor, O Christ God, calling to the myrrh-bearing women: Rejoice! And giving peace unto Thine apostles: Thou Who dost grant resurrection to the fallen.

In the grave bodily, but in hades with Thy soul as God: in Paradise with the thief, and on the throne with the Father and the Spirit wast Thou Who fillest all things, O Christ the Inexpressible.

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.

How life-giving, how much more beautiful than Paradise, and truly more resplendent than any royal palace was Thy tomb shown to be, O Christ, the source of our resurrection.
Both now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

O sanctified and divine tabernacle of the Most High, rejoice! For through thee, O Theotokos, joy is given to them that cry: Blessed art thou among women, O all-spotless Lady.

Lord, have mercy. (Forty times)

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, both now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

More honourable than the Cherubim, and beyond compare more glorious than the Seraphim, who without corruption gavest birth to God the Word, the very Theotokos, thee do we magnify.

PRIEST: O Lord Jesus Christ our God, for the sake of the prayers of Thy most pure Mother, of our holy and God-bearing fathers, and of all the saints, have mercy on us.

If a Reader's service: O Lord bless.

Amen. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and on those in the tombs bestowing life. (thrice) Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, both now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

PRIEST: May Christ our true God, Who rose from the dead, and trampled down death by death and on those in the tombs bestowed life, through the intercessions of His most Pure Mother, and of all the saints have mercy on us and save us, for He is good and the Lover of mankind. Amen.

If a Reader's service: O Lord bless!

Easter Vigil Sermon: 3 April 2010

This Is the Night

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, saints of God: now we join with angels and archangels, with cherubim and seraphim, with apostles and martyrs, with all the company of heaven and all the saints on earth, to give voice to all creation as together we proclaim, “This is the night!” How holy is this night. How blessed is this night. For this night is the climax of salvation history. Every past act of God points toward this night and every future act of God radiates outward from this night. It is both the last of the first days and the first of the last days, the end of the beginning and the beginning of the end – the alpha and the omega.

This night we tell the story – the story of creation and fall, of God’s good and very good creation ruined by our failure to bear God’s image, by our refusal to be God’s instruments of grace and life in his world. Why is there evil in this world? Why corruption? Why pain and sickness and loneliness and despair and death? Why plague and famine, slavery and poverty? What is wrong with God’s good creation? I am and you are and we are, all of us together, as it is written:

“There is no one who is righteous,
not even one;
there is no one who has understanding,
there is no one who seeks God” (Rom 3:10-11, NRSV).

Adam, Cain, Lamech: generation after generation we spiraled downward into corruption and dissolution. We did this, for this is your story and mine.

We knew God but we did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but became futile in our thinking and darkened in our senseless minds. Claiming to be wise we became fools; and we exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling a mortal human being or birds or four-footed animals or reptiles (cf Rom 1:21-23).

The LORD saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually. And the LORD was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. So the LORD said, “I will blot out from the earth the human beings I have created,” (Gen 6:5-7a, NRSV).

But God had mercy on our father Noah – a righteous man, blameless in his generation – and preserved him, along with his family, through the great flood. Yet sin survived the flood as well, carried by the very hope of our kind, Noah, who in hung-over rage cursed his son Canaan to slavery and began anew man’s downward spiral toward the hubris of Babel and the alienation of person from person, nation from nation.

But God had mercy on our father Abraham.

“Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen 12:1b-3, NRSV).

This is the covenant, the promise God made to our fathers, to Abraham and his children forever: election, nation, land, blessing.

The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. The Scripture does not say “and to seeds,” meaning many people, but “and to your seed,” meaning one person, who is Christ (Gal 2:16, NIV).

Abraham, Isaac, Jacob: each carried the seed of blessing and each carried the thorn of sin. The ones chosen to be the means by which God would put to rights the world were themselves part of the problem: blessing and curse, freedom and slavery. And slavery came as the house of Abraham went down to Egypt and was ruthlessly oppressed with forced labor by Pharaoh who made their lives bitter in brick and mortar and with all kinds of work in the fields (cf Ex 1:11-14).

But God had mercy on us and raised up for us a deliverer, Moses, who commanded Pharaoh in the name of our God, “Israel is my firstborn son. Let my son go that he may worship me” (cf Ex 4:21-23). But Pharaoh would not, so God struck him again and again – ten times God struck Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm until the pride of Ham, the firstborn sons of Egypt, lay dead, and Israel, the firstborn son of God, was driven from Egypt with the riches of the land and the blessing of the people, until the might of Egypt lay drowned on the shore of the Red Sea, until our fathers and mothers, former slaves all, could sing together,

I will sing to the Lord, for he is lofty and uplifted;
the horse and its rider has he hurled into the sea.
The Lord is my strength and my refuge;
the Lord has become my Savior (The Song of Moses, BCP 85).

To Sinai we came, to Sinai where our God called us a holy nation, a kingdom of priests to serve him; to Sinai where God gave us his commandments; to Sinai where we bowed the knee before idols made by hand; to Sinai where we sat down to eat and rose up to play; to Sinai where we traded glory for shame; to Sinai where we inherited the curse of the Law and not its blessing.

But God had mercy on us nonetheless and brought us into a good land, a land flowing with milk and honey, the land promised on oath to our father Abraham. There we became fat and arrogant – a stubborn and stiffnecked people – and rebelled against our God, prostituting ourselves before the gods of the peoples of the land. And God punished us, delivered us over to our enemies, yet forgave our sins when we called upon him: again, and again, and again.

But God had mercy on us and raised up for us a man after his own heart, David, son of Jesse, sweet psalmist and king of Israel. And to David, the LORD Almighty said,

I took you from the pasture and from following the flock to be ruler over my people Israel. I have been with you wherever you have gone, and I have cut off all your enemies from before you. Now I will make your name great, like the names of the greatest men of the earth. And I will provide a place for my people Israel and will plant them so that they can have a home of their own and no longer be disturbed.

The LORD declares to you that the LORD himself will establish a house for you: When your days are over and you rest with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, who will come from your own body, and I will establish his kingdom. He is the one who will build a house for my Name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. I will be his father, and he will be my son (2 Sam 7:8-14, selections, NIV).

But David, even David, turned from the Lord and embraced Bathsheba, embraced the lust and sin within him and within us all. Confronted and beguiled by the prophet Nathan, David pronounced his own condemnation; “As surely as the LORD lives, the man who did this deserves to die” (2 Sam 12:5)! David rightly placed himself and all men under the righteous judgment of God.

But God had mercy on us and sent us prophets who again and again called us to repent and return. And though we were faithless, God remained faithful. Though we were false, God remained true. Again he made covenant with us, a covenant through the promised seed of Abraham. He says,

“It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth.”

This is what the LORD says – the Redeemer and Holy One of Israel – to him who was despised and abhorred by the nation, to the servant of rulers: “Kings will see you and rise up, princes will see and bow down, because of the LORD, who is faithful, the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you” (Is 49:6-7, NIV).

And about this light for the Gentiles, about this one chosen by the Holy One of Israel, the prophet says,

Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities, the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. By oppression and judgment he was taken away. And who can speak of his descendants? For he was cut off from the land of the living; for the transgression of my people he was stricken. He was assigned a grave with the wicked, and with the rich in his death, though he had done no violence, nor was any deceit in his mouth (Is 53:4-9, NIV).

And God had mercy on us, for he came, this one, in the fullness of the times. He came, the last Adam. He came, the seed of Abraham. He came, the fulfillment of the Law. He came, the son of David. He came, the hope of the prophets. He came, the anointed of God, the savior of Israel, the light of the Gentiles. He came.

Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs, which God did among you through him, as you yourselves know. This man was handed over to you by God’s set purpose and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him to the cross (Acts 2:22-23, NIV).

God have mercy on us. For in Jesus all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. All the promises of God found their fulfillment. All the righteousness of God bore all the sin of the world. God have mercy on us. For we put to death the author of life, the Messiah of Israel, the hope of the world.

And so it all comes down to this, to this night when all creation holds its breath, when all promises are pending, when all hope peers forward in the blackness of night into the darkness of the tomb. This night is the climax of salvation history. Every past act of God points toward it and every future act of God hinges on it. This is the night when all of watching creation – in heaven, on earth, and under the earth – will learn whether Adam’s sin will be forgiven, whether man will be renewed in God’s image and will bear that image before a creation set to rights, whether God’s promises to Abraham will be fulfilled, whether David’s son will receive an everlasting throne, whether the hope of the prophets will be vindicated, whether the Messiah of Israel will become the light of the Gentiles and the Lord of all creation. This is the night. And on this night the One on whom all this depends lies in a tomb – beaten, broken, and crucified for the sake of all.

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” This is my message for you.’ So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshipped him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me’ (Mt 28:1-10, NRSV).

This is the night: the night of sorrowing women, the night of earthquakes, the night of angels, the night of the empty tomb, the night of fear and great joy, the night of Jesus – suddenly Jesus – risen from the dead and going ahead of us, the night of Jesus saying, “Do not be afraid.” This is the night when Adam’s sin is forgiven and man is reconciled to God. This is the night when man is restored to the image of God, when men and women and children are renewed in nature and vocation, and when nature itself experiences the firstfruits of its liberation from the bondage of corruption. This is the night when God’s covenant with Abraham is fulfilled and the world is blessed through his seed. This is the night when David’s son takes his everlasting throne. This is the night when the prophets are vindicated and the Messiah of Israel is shown to be the light of the Gentiles and the Lord of all creation. This is the night that marks the dawn of the first day of God’s new creation. This is the night of resurrection.

Christ is risen and all is made new.
Christ is risen and death is conquered.
Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

This is the night!

Amen. Alleluia.

Sermon: 6 Pascha/ 6 Easter (17 May 2009)

Sermon: 6 Pascha/6 Easter (17 May 2009)
(Acts 10:44-48/Psalm 98/1 John 5:1-6/John 15:9-17)
Who’s In / Who’s Out

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Christos anesti! Alithos anesti!

The reading from Acts 10 confronts the church with the challenging topic of inclusion, a topic surrounded with much heat and little light in the modern church. Miscommunication is more likely than understanding, in part because not everything that should be said can be said in the limited time available in sermon or lesson. Clarity depends largely upon shared history and a hermeneutic of trust in the church, and also upon the opportunity for give-and-take.

I have chosen not to preach from Acts 10, but rather to teach from it and to lead a discussion on this important issue for the church. What follows, then, is a very truncated summary of some of the issues we will address on this sixth Sunday of Pascha. I offer it simply to encourage your own thought and exploration of Scripture and the faith and practice of the church as we continue to announce to the whole world the good news that Christ is risen.
_________________________________________________

You notice an advertisement for a church – perhaps on a billboard, or in the newspaper religion section, or in the Yellow Pages – it makes little difference where, but you notice an advertisement that reads:

SAINT SOMEBODY'S COMMUNITY CHURCH:
An Inclusive Faith Community

Now, clearly, code words are being used in the advertisement, particularly “inclusive faith community.” What are we intended to hear in those code words?

If our ears are attuned to current concerns – the past twenty years or so – we likely hear inclusive faith community as “GLBT accepting and affirming.” Saint Somebody’s probably welcomes gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered persons, affirms their sexuality, and incorporates them fully into the life and leadership of the church. Of course, there is a spectrum of belief and practice among inclusive churches, but I think this fairly captures the intent of the words as I’ve seen them used.

But, forty years ago, the debate in the mainline churches was not over accepting and affirming gays and lesbians; rather, it concerned the role of women in the life and leadership of the church: 1974 was a turning point and marked the beginning of female ordinations to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church. For a few years following, “inclusive faith community” might well have meant accepting and affirming of female ministry and leadership. Context and timing are everything, aren’t they?

Go back even farther into the earliest decades of my childhood in the south, particularly the 1960s. A hypothetical Baptist church in Mississippi or Alabama with a sign outside proclaiming it “an inclusive faith community” – though they would not have used those words – would have been making a bold and dangerous racial statement: Negroes are welcome here and are accepted as brothers and sisters in Christ. I still remember as a child listening to the “old men” – my grandfather among them – standing on the church steps between Sunday School and Preachin’ debate what we should do if a Negro showed up at our church. I’m not proud of some of the discussion – at least as I remember it – but those were very different times and it is perhaps not fair to judge them by our modern perspectives.

We could go back farther, still, to the infancy of the church, to the first century. James, bishop of Jerusalem and brother of our Lord, admonished the church to be an inclusive faith community. What did he mean? Welcome and include the poor.

2My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favouritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? 2For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, 3and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, ‘Have a seat here, please’, while to the one who is poor you say, ‘Stand there’, or, ‘Sit at my feet’, 4have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? 5Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? 6But you have dishonoured the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? 7Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?
8 You do well if you really fulfil the royal law according to the scripture, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ 9But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors (James 2:1-9, NRSV).

I mention these few examples – and many others could be cited from throughout the church’s history – merely to show that inclusion has always been a difficult issue for the church. We grapple – as did our fathers and mothers in the faith – with fundamental questions: (1) To whom is the Gospel accessible? and (2) What are the requirements for and the limits of Christian fellowship?

In the first reading appointed for this sixth Sunday of Pascha (Acts 10:44-48) Peter is confronted with these very questions as he finds himself addressing a roomful of gentiles in the home of the God-fearing, Roman Centurion, Cornelius. (Acts 10 details how God arranged this meeting for Peter.) As Peter proclaims the Gospel to these gentiles – really an unthinkable act just days earlier – the Holy Spirit fills them in a second Pentecost not unlike the first one in Jerusalem. God has spoken: first in the Great Commission, next in Peter’s vision in Joppa, and now in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Do not call unclean what I have cleansed. While the Gospel is the fulfillment of the Jewish Law and Covenants, it is now accessible to all people, to all nations. Through Abraham and his seed all the nations of the earth will be blessed.

It is there is the Psalm.

98 Cantate Domino

1 Sing to the Lord a new song, *
for he has done marvelous things.

2 With his right hand and his holy arm *
has he won for himself the victory.

3 The Lord has made known his victory; *
his righteousness has he openly shown in
the sight of the nations.

4 He remembers his mercy and faithfulness to
the house of Israel, *
and all the ends of the earth have seen the
victory of our God.

5 Shout with joy to the Lord, all you lands; *
lift up your voice, rejoice, and sing.

6 Sing to the Lord with the harp, *
with the harp and the voice of song.

7 With trumpets and the sound of the horn *
shout with joy before the King, the Lord.

8 Let the sea make a noise and all that is in it, *
the lands and those who dwell therein.

9 Let the rivers clap their hands, *
and let the hills ring out with joy before the Lord,
when he comes to judge the earth.

10 In righteousness shall he judge the world *
and the peoples with equity.

Sing to the Lord a new song. Why? Because in Jesus he has done a new and marvelous thing, and the old songs won’t do to describe it and to sing God’s praise for it. With his right hand and holy arm he has won the victory and has made it known in the sight of all nations. His mercy and faithfulness to Israel He has now extended to the ends of the earth.

To whom is the Gospel accessible? For whom is it intended? For Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, male and female, white and Negro, gay and straight – for all the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, for all whom the Lord our God shall call. In light of Pascha we have great, good news: Christos anesti! Alithos anesti! Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. He has conquered sin, death, and hell. He has inaugurated the Kingdom of God and has begun to put all things to rights. He has reconciled man to God and incorporated man – male and female – into the divine life. And he has done so on behalf of all and for all.

But to say that the Gospel is intended for everyone is not to say enough. We must also say that, if the Gospel is for everyone, then it is for everyone in the same way. Just as there is no distinction in who may come to the Gospel, there is no distinction in how we must come to the Gospel. The way of inclusion is the way of faith, repentance, baptism, and conversion. Writing an explanation and defense (apology) of Christian faith and practice in the middle of the second century, Justin Martyr gave the parameters for Eucharistic fellowship:

And this food is called among us Eucharist, of which no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has enjoined (Justin Marty, First Apology, Ch. 66).

All may be included in the Gospel, but only those are included who share the faith once for all delivered to the saints, who change the direction and focus of their lives, who die to sin and rise to new life in Christ through baptism, and who walk the path of life-long conversion, living as Christ himself and as Christ through his body the church has taught.

The church is and always must be an inclusive faith community in these two ways: that it offers the Gospel of Jesus Christ to everyone – no exceptions, and that it requires from everyone faith, repentance, baptism, and conversion – no exceptions.

Thanks be to God for his mercy and faithfulness, for his victory which has gone out into all the earth. Amen.

Sermon: 5 Pascha/5 Easter (10 May 2009)

Sermon: 5 Pascha/ 5 Easter (10 May 2009)
(Acts 8:26-40/Psalm 22:25-31/1 John 4:7-21/John 15:1-8)
The Abiding Life

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Christos anesti! Alithos anesti!

This is among the greatest tragedies of the human condition: that we were made for so much and that we settle for so little. It is both consequence and symptom of the fall of man, and it all began in the Garden. Examples abound and their effects ripple outward creating a modern tsunami.

18 The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."
21 So the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man's ribs and closed up the place with flesh. 22 Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man.
23 The man said, "This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called 'woman, ' for she was taken out of man."
24 For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh Gen 2:18, 21-24, NIV).

Man – male and female – was made for human love and intimacy, for the union of body and soul, for the joining of a man and a woman into a new person greater than either individual. But we often settle for much less: for casual, sexual hook-ups, for extra-marital affairs, for lust instead of love and encounters instead of intimacy. Frankly, both the culture and the church often make too big an issue of sex – though often on different ends of the spectrum. It’s not that sex is so big; it’s that sex is much too small. We were created for so much, yet we settle for so little.

Man was placed in a garden of God’s making, a place of abundance and harmony and beauty, a place pronounced good and very good by God himself. Man was made to dwell in such a world in which God is everywhere present and fillest all things, in which God’s beauty permeates all creation. But we settle for a world filled with strip malls and strip mines and strip clubs. We settle for creation stripped clean of God until only nature remains, and then we use that nature as a tool, despoiling it and poisoning it and ourselves in the process. It’s not that environmental impact is such a big concern; in fact, it’s too small. Even a pristine, verdant world absent God can never be a place of true abundance and harmony and beauty. We were created for so much, yet we settle for so little.

Man was created and invited to walk in the wisdom of holy obedience and to eat from the tree of life. Man was made to commune with God and to live forever. But, we settled for less – much less – trading the wisdom of holy obedience for the knowledge of good and evil, and we have mistaken knowledge for wisdom ever since. Our knowledge now allows us to argue God out of existence, to create weapons of mass destruction, to discover the genetic code and to plumb the mysteries of life all the while destroying life through abortion and execution and war and simple neglect, through pride and willfulness instead of humility and holy obedience. Knowledge is not such a big deal. Without the wisdom of holy obedience, knowledge is far too small. We were created for so much, yet we settle for so little.

Created for glory, we settle for reality television. Created for purpose, we settle for distraction. Created for life, we settle for existence. Created for the transcendent, we settle for the ordinary. This is among the greatest tragedies of the human condition: that we were made for so much and that we settle for so little. We have traded down as Paul writes to the Christians in Rome – an accurate and scathing indictment of the fallen human condition.

18The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness, 19since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. 20For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.
21For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. 22Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools 23and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles.
24Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another. 25They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator—who is forever praised. Amen (Rom 1:18-25, NIV).

We are made for so much and we settle for so little. And the church is not immune from such compromise; our faith is not exempt from such settling for less. The modern, Western church – and I am not qualified to speak of anything else – often contents itself with forgiveness of past sins and plasters “I’m not perfect – just forgiven!” bumper stickers on cars and lives. But what about holiness and righteousness and, yes, perfection (Mt 5:48), which was Jesus’ command? What about victory over the passions which wage war within and against us, which lead us away from God and not toward him? Why settle for less? The modern, Western church – and I suspect most other expressions of the one, holy, catholic and Apostolic church, as well – often contents itself with a hope for everlasting life in heaven in some far distant future – life after death. But what about life before death and life after life-after-death[1]? What about the abundant life Jesus promised (John 10:10)? What about the peace that passes understanding, the joy amid trials, the faith that sustains, the hope that assures, the love that is greatest of all? Surely these are not reserved for a distant, disembodied, future afterlife? Why settle for less? The modern, Western church – and I speak as a child of that Mother Church whom I love with all my heart – often contents itself with producing nice people; good citizens; champions of at least 7 of the 10 Commandments; family folk; hardworking, stable, and respectable individuals who contribute to their communities and – hopefully – tithe to their churches. And, in the main, there is nothing wrong with any of this – nothing wrong unless that is all there is, unless that is the highest aspiration the church has for its children, unless the church settles and teaches us all to settle for less than we are intended to be and to have and to do.

We are called to more than all this. All of us as disciples of Christ and sons and daughters of God are called to more than all this. We are called to nothing less than perfect union with Christ our Lord, to such total mutuality that with Paul we can say, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20, NIV). We are called to share the very life of Christ in the organic way that branches share the life of the vine. We are called to the abiding life.

15:1 "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower.
15:2 He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit.
15:3 You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you.
15:4 Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.
15:5 I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.
15:6 Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.
15:7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.
15:8 My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples (John 15:1-8, NRSV).

To have the very life of Jesus flowing through us, giving us life, cleansing us, healing us, transforming us, making us fruitful to the glory of God: this is the abiding life and this is what we are meant for and called to – this and nothing less. The abiding life is salvation – not the distant hope of heaven when you die, but the complete healing of body, mind, and spirit; the full restoration of the image of God to fallen man; the progression toward the full likeness of God – all begun here and now (I’m certain) and all continued there and then (I suspect). The abiding life is gift and struggle, grace and works: for “by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast” (Eph 2:8, NIV). Now, “therefore, my dear friends…continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose” (Phil 2:12-13, NIV). There is no dichotomy here, just the simple truth that “the artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.”[2]

You received this gift of grace at your baptism when you were washed clean and sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, sealed as Christ’s own forever. As Jesus told Nicodemus he must be, you were born again – born anew, born from above – born of water and the Spirit, and in that instant of grace you began the abiding life – filled with the Spirit, empowered by the Spirit, Christ’s own life coursing through you. What you do with that life, whether you continue in it, is largely up to you. If with Paul you want to say, and say truly, for me to live is Christ (Phil 1:21), there is much work to be done, moment-by-moment throughout life. Abiding life is decision and commitment and work. It is a high, and sometimes hard calling; but it is the only one worthy of you.

Jesus says that if we abide in him and his words abide in us we can ask for whatever we wish and it will be done for us (John 15:7). If you want to see what that looks like in a human life – Jesus’ words abiding in a man and that man living the abiding life, working out his salvation with fear and trembling – you could do worse than look to Francesco di Bernardone – Francis of Assisi. This man, who stood to inherit so much at the beginning of his life, owned practically nothing at its end: a tattered, brown robe distinctive of his order and a Gospel book. Even then, he did not so much own the Gospel book as it owned him; Jesus’ words were his life.

Francis took a most simplistic approach to Scripture; he obeyed. He took Scripture not as a document to be studied but as a script to be acted. “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me,” Jesus told the rich man (Mt 19:21, NIV). Francis did just that. Sending out the Twelve to preach the good news and herald his coming, Jesus instructed them, “Do not take along any gold or silver or copper in your belts; take no bag for the journey, or extra tunic, or sandals or a staff” (Mt 10:9, NIV). Francis traveled in precisely this way: penniless, unshod, and “carefree in the care of God” (Lk 12:22, MSG). “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven” (Mt 5:11-12a, NIV), Francis read and for the sake of the Gospel endured the mockery of Assisi, the anger and persecution of his father, and the betrayal of brothers in Christ – all with rejoicing. Perhaps the greatest commentary ever written on the Gospel – and certainly on the Sermon on the Mount – was written not in words, but in the life of St. Francis.

“If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you,” Jesus promised. And what did Francis wish?

Most High Glorious God, enlighten the darkness of my heart. And give me, Lord, correct faith, firm hope, perfect charity, wisdom, and perception that I may always do what is truly your most holy will.

This was Francis’ wish; this was Francis’ prayer.

We look at Francis and see what he gave up. Francis saw only what he gained by abiding in Christ. We look at Francis and see extreme poverty. Francis saw only great riches acquired through a most laudable exchange: the things for earth for the things of heaven, the things of time for the things of eternity[3]. We look at Francis and see radical extremism. Francis saw only the abiding life – the call of every disciple of Christ. How can we live like that? we ask Francis. How can you not? he asks us in return.

The Hassidic sage Rabbi Zusya once said, “In the world to come, I shall not be asked, ‘Why were you not Moses?” I shall be asked, ‘Why were you not Zusya?”[4] Surely, we will never be asked, “Why did you not live as Francis lived?” I pray we may never be asked instead, “Why did you never live when I came that you might have life – abundant life, abiding life?”

To have the very life of Jesus flowing through us, giving us life, cleansing us, healing us, transforming us, making us fruitful to the glory of God: this is the abiding life and this is what we are meant for and called to – this and nothing less.

Amen.

PODCAST OF THIS SERMON


[1] Life after life-after-death is a phrase used frequently by Bishop N. T. Wright to emphasize the bodily resurrection of the believer and his eternal life in the new heavens and new earth, cf. Rev 21. He distinguishes this from the more prevalent misconception of a disembodied existence in heaven.
[2] Emile Zola, French novelist and critic.
[3] From Laudable Exchange, John Michael Talbot.
[4] http://www.wisdomquotes.com/001452.html

Sermon: Good Shepherd Sunday (4 Easter/3 May 2009))

Sermon: 4 Pascha – Good Shepherd Sunday – (3 May 2009)
(Acts 4:5-12/Psalm 23/1 John 3:16-24/John 10:11-18)
Feed My Sheep

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Christos anesti! Alithos Anesti!

We are now near the midpoint of Pascha: a bit more than half way to Ascension, a bit less than half way to Pentecost – a between time that calls us to reflect on what has happened and what is yet to come. The church has contemplated these events for two millennia – in prayer and hymn, in sacred art and architecture, in liturgy and theology – and still they are no less mystery than in those first forty days between resurrection and ascension. Often after teaching the crowds in parables Jesus would draw the Twelve aside and ask, “Have you understood all these things?” This is such a moment when Jesus calls the church aside from the headlong, joyous rush of Pascha to ask, “Have you understood all these things, and do you know what I have done for you?” Like the Twelve we say, “Yes, Lord.” Like a master teacher who truly knows his students, Jesus explains anyway.

“I am the good shepherd,” he says, invoking a central image in Hebrew experience and scripture: God as shepherd of Israel. The patriarchs understood. As Jacob prepared to be gathered to his fathers, he blessed his grandsons in the name of the God of Abraham and Isaac, the God who had been shepherd to him.

“May the God before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac walked,
the God who has been my shepherd all my life to this day,
the Angel who has delivered me from all harm –
may he bless these boys” (Gen 48:15-16a, NIV).

The poet Asaph understood as he sang to the Lord a psalm, a plea for deliverance.

Hear, O Shepherd of Israel, leading Joseph like a flock,
shine forth, you that are enthroned upon the cherubim.
In the presence of Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh,
stir up your strength and come to help us.
Restore us, O God of hosts;
show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved (Ps 80:1-3, BCP).

The prophets understood, Isaiah chief among them as he looked forward to the end of exile and the advent of the Messiah.

See, the Lord God comes with might,
and his arm rules for him;
and his reward is with him,
and his recompense before him.
He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep (Is 40:10-11, NRSV).

And David understood – perhaps David understood best of all – for

[God] chose David his servant
and took him from the sheep pens;
from tending the sheep he brought him
to be the shepherd of his people Jacob,
of Israel his inheritance.
And David shepherded them with integrity of heart;
with skillful hands he led them (Ps 78:70-72, NIV).

David, the shepherd of the people of God, understood God to be his Shepherd. And so, David’s great shepherd’s psalm rings with a beauty and truth and authenticity that speak across the millennia.

1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.

3 He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.

4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil;

For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over.

6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life;

And I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever (Ps 23, NKJV).

God as shepherd: no other image so deeply and indelibly formed Israel’s understanding of the Lord – the Lord who led Abram from his father’s house in Ur to become the father of nations; the Lord who delivered Abraham’s children from bondage in Egypt and led that flock forty years in the wilderness, bringing them at last to a land flowing with milk and honey; the Lord who raised up the shepherd David to shepherd the flock of God; the Lord who gathered his scattered flock from among the nations and brought them home from exile.

“I am the good shepherd,” Jesus said. “I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; the God of Moses and David; the God of Isaiah and all the prophets. I am that good shepherd,” is what he meant. And as startling as that claim surely was, what he does to the image of the Shepherd of Israel is more startling still. “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep” (John 10:11, NKJV). None that have gone before – neither Abraham nor Moses, neither David nor Isaiah – could possibly have understood this, could possibly have understood the death of their Shepherd and their Lord. It is only from our position near the midpoint of Pascha that such a radical change to the image of shepherd begins to make sense. Jesus, the good shepherd, did indeed lead us into the valley of the shadow of death, as David foresaw. And there, he laid down his life for the sheep. The rod and staff that comforted us were none other than the beams of the cross upon which the good shepherd died. And in his death, through his death, he prepared a table for us – a table laden with the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation – a table spread in the presence of our ancient and now defeated enemies: Satan and sin and death and hell. He anointed us there with the oil of gladness, the gift of the Holy Spirit. Surely with goodness and mercy he prepared a place for us, a place where we may dwell in the house of the Lord forever. And he sent us on along paths of righteousness to green pastures and still waters, places that restore the soul. He sent on us while he remained behind in that valley, in that shadow of death.

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives His life for the sheep. No one takes it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself.” And here Jesus resurrects the image of the fallen shepherd and brings it forth in glory. “I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again,” (John 10:11, 18, NKJV). The images twist and turn and transform one into another: the good shepherd becomes the Lamb of God who gives his life as a ransom for many and then takes it up again to become the Lamb upon the Throne and to receive the praise of all creation:

Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might
and honor and glory and blessing (Rev 5:12, NRSV).

“I am the good shepherd,” Jesus said, and now, at this between time near the midpoint of Pascha, we begin to see what he meant. The sheep – all the fallen, image-bearers of God, sons and daughters of Adam and Eve, Jew and gentile alike – were scattered. In the wisdom and mystery and grace of God, the Good Shepherd came among them, led them through the valley of the shadow of death, and laid down his own life for them. In taking up his life again, he called all the scattered flocks to himself that there might be one flock and one shepherd (John 10:16), that all might return to the Shepherd and Overseer of their souls (1 Pe 2:25).

Why did he do this? Love. It is the only answer given and the only answer that makes any sense of this mystery. “By this we know love,” John writes, “because He laid down his life for us” (1 John 3:16a, NKJV). And this same love that binds us as one flock to the one shepherd binds us also to one another, so that John continues, “and we ought to lay down our lives for one another” (1 John 3:16b, NRSV). Don’t make this commandment – and, yes, it is a commandment – bigger than it is. It is a commandment kept mainly in the small things, in the hidden martyrdoms of life, as John makes clear. “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help” (John 3:17 (NRSV)? Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, tend the sick, visit the prisoners: this is what John means, this is how we lay down our lives for one another – in a thousand small ways, in a thousand hidden martyrdoms. I wonder where John got such an idea?

32All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
34"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
37"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
40"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me' (Mt 25:32-40, NIV).

What a twist on the ancient image, that now the sheep are to becomes shepherds for one another: leading one another to green pastures and still waters – to places that restore the soul; walking together through the valley of the shadow of death, fearing no evil because God is present, not least in the love and fellowship of a brother or sister; preparing a table, breaking bread, and pouring wine; showing goodness and mercy – all done for the least of the sheep by the least of the sheep, all done for the Good Shepherd.

Once Peter stood where we now stand, at the midpoint of Pascha, though he had no idea that Ascension and Pentecost were to come. He still had one foot in his past so he decided to do what he knew best; he got his boat and nets and went fishing. If he hoped the distraction would ease his mind and help sort things out, he was mistaken; it was a miserable, long night with no fish to show for his effort. John takes up the story.

4Early in the morning, Jesus stood on the shore, but the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus.
5He called out to them, "Friends, haven't you any fish?" "No," they answered.
6He said, "Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some." When they did, they were unable to haul the net in because of the large number of fish.
7Then the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" As soon as Simon Peter heard him say, "It is the Lord," he wrapped his outer garment around him (for he had taken it off) and jumped into the water. 8The other disciples followed in the boat, towing the net full of fish, for they were not far from shore, about a hundred yards. 9When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.
10Jesus said to them, "Bring some of the fish you have just caught."
11Simon Peter climbed aboard and dragged the net ashore. It was full of large fish, 153, but even with so many the net was not torn. 12Jesus said to them, "Come and have breakfast." None of the disciples dared ask him, "Who are you?" They knew it was the Lord. 13Jesus came, took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14This was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples after he was raised from the dead.

15When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you truly love me more than these?" "Yes, Lord," he said, "you know that I love you." Jesus said, "Feed my lambs."
16Again Jesus said, "Simon son of John, do you truly love me?" He answered, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." Jesus said, "Take care of my sheep."
17 The third time he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, "Do you love me?" He said, "Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you."
Jesus said, "Feed my sheep” (John 21:4-17, NIV).

Jesus pulls out all the stops here, reminding Peter of their shared experiences: the miraculous catch of fish, the feeding of the 5000, the institution of the Eucharist – and all this to restore Peter to his role as shepherd. “Feed my sheep,” is Jesus’ command to Peter, first among the Apostles, rock upon which the church is built. “Feed my sheep,” is Jesus’ command to us. “If you love me, feed my sheep.”

And now,

20May the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, 21equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen (Heb 13:20-21, NIV).

PODCAST OF THIS SERMON

Sermon: 3 Pascha (3 Easter) 2009

Sermon: 3 Pascha (26 April 2009)
(Acts 3:12-19/Psalm4/1 John 3:1-7/Luke 24:36b-48)
A Case of Mistaken Identity

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
Christos anesti! Alithos anesti!

The gospel accounts of the resurrection and the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus are all a-jumble; it is very difficult to construct a consistent timeline from the various narratives – which is exactly the kind of reporting you might expect from eyewitnesses overwhelmed by a eucatastrophe[1] – a good catastrophe – a cataclysmic event of great, good news. Of course, the basic truth of the story emerges clearly and intact: Christ is risen from the dead! – though exactly how that happened and what that means is much less clear.

Certainly, the disciples and apostles seem confused in the Gospel accounts. Take Mary Magdalene, for example, the first to see Jesus. She mistakenly thinks Him the gardener. Of course, Saint John, who records this encounter, does so with a self-conscious, theological eye toward the Genesis account; he wants all to see the greater reality behind Mary’s mistake. It is the first day of the week and we find ourselves in a garden, in the presence of the Gardener. In an obvious parallel to the Genesis creation account, John pictures Jesus as God walking in the cool of the day in his new creation. Jesus’ resurrection is the beginning of the re-creation of the cosmos. (In a similar parallel, Saint Paul considers Jesus the new Adam in whom all mankind is reborn, again a garden reference.) But these insights await decades of theological reflection. All that Mary knows on this great morning is that Jesus is missing and this “gardener” might know where he’s been taken.

Later that day, Jesus appears to Cleopas and a companion as they return home from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Once again, these disciples fail to recognize Jesus. He walks with them a few miles, close enough for an intense conversation, and still they do not know him. And yet, as he opens the Scripture to them on the road, explaining all things about the Messiah, their hearts burn within them, until finally, in the breaking of the bread – a clear reference to the Eucharist – their eyes are opened to see Jesus. Here, too, the Gospels contain a great truth hidden within a case of mistaken identity: it is in Scripture and the breaking of the bread that Christ always becomes present to us and always known to us if faith gives us ears to hear, eyes to see, and hands to touch.

These two disciples immediately return to Jerusalem and the apostles.

They were saying, ‘The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!’ 35Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
36 While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’37They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. 38He said to them, ‘Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? 39Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.’ 40And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet.41While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’ 42They gave him a piece of broiled fish, 43and he took it and ate in their presence (Luke 24:34-43, NRSV).

A ghost: that is the best explanation the apostles have to offer for the apparition of Jesus standing in front of them. It would be easy to dismiss them as primitive, superstitious people – easy, perhaps, but not accurate. These men – and perhaps the faithful women are there, too – are realists, struggling for a reasonable, rational explanation to this event beyond their experience. They saw Jesus crucified; they are certain he is dead. And yet, here he is, appearing behind – and that means through – closed doors. If this is vision or delusion, then it is shared delusion – and how is that possible? No, a ghost offers a much better explanation. Many cultures – including our own, modern, enlightened one – have a concept of the persistence of the dead among us. Spirits sometimes linger. Spirits sometimes make contact. Even the very skeptical often speak of sensing or feeling the presence of a recently deceased loved one; some even report visions. Like people of many cultures, the apostles knew of ghosts; what they did not know of was resurrection – the bodily return of the dead in the present moment. And so, they mistakenly identified the risen Christ in his glorified body for a ghost, an immaterial phantom.

Three cases of mistaken identity in the course of a single day: Mary and the “gardener,” Cleopas and the “stranger,” the eleven and the “ghost.” We could see these simply as “human elements” in the reporting of an otherwise divine account, or even “comic relief” in the most serious – though joyful – story ever told. In short, we almost could dismiss them as quaint additions to the real story: almost, but not quite. Mistaken identity is part of the real story because it is still part of our real stories.

This issue of mistaken identity, this gospel account, is captured almost perfectly in a song by Eric Bazilian, though I doubt that was his intent.

If God had a face what would it look like

And would you want to see

If seeing meant that you would have to believe

In things like heaven and in jesus and the saints and all the prophets

What if God was one of us

Just a slob like one of us

Just a stranger on the bus

Trying to make his way home

He's trying to make his way home

Back up to heaven all alone

Nobody calling on the phone

Except for the pope maybe in rome (Eric Bazilian, One of Us).

If recognizing God in the face of Jesus meant “that you would have to believe in things like heaven and in jesus and the saints and all the prophets,” might it not be easier to mistake him for someone else? Recognizing Jesus – seeing his true identity – is costly. When Peter recognized Jesus he was forced to confront his denial. When the ten recognized Jesus they were forced to confront their cowardice. When Thomas recognized Jesus he was forced to confront his doubts. And me? Sometimes all the above and more. Sometimes it’s just easier to mistake Jesus for someone else: a myth maybe, or an unfortunate religious zealot; a teacher and perhaps a very good man – anyone but the now risen Lord of all creation for whose crucifixion I am responsible; anyone but the now risen Lord of all creation before whom every knee will bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth and to whom every tongue will confess “Jesus is Lord,” to the glory of God. Maybe it’s better that he remains the gardener, or a stranger, or just a slob like one of us. The trouble is he keeps appearing behind our closed doors[2], confronting our fears and showing us his wounded hands and side. “What will you make of these?” he keeps asking. It is hard to mistake those wounds for anything but signs of sacrifice and victory. It is hard to think they belong to a gardener or a stranger or a slob like one of us.

Well, if not a gardener or a stranger or a slob like one of us, then maybe we can mistake Jesus for a ghost, a temporary visitor from another realm, “trying to make his way home, back up to heaven all alone, nobody calling on the phone, except the pope maybe in rome.” This is a two-storey universe, as Fr. Stephen Freeman[3] describes it: man on the first-storey in the real world and God – perhaps – up in heaven on the second-storey, minding his own business and not interfering in ours. Ancient stories tell us that some of us may one day make it up to that second-storey – and here we may have to amend the metaphor to include a basement, also – but in the meantime God and his story/storey are functionally irrelevant to us and to our stories: Jesus as ghost – not quite real, not quite welcome here. The trouble is, he keeps showing up whenever there’s a meal – broiled fish for the apostles, bread and wine for us. It is hard to deny the reality of Jesus – his presence in this world – when each Sunday we eat his flesh and drink his blood. These pesky, post-resurrection appearances of Jesus destroy the myth of a two-storey universe. So does the prayer that opens many Orthodox services:

O Heavenly King, Comforter, Spirit of Truth, who art everywhere present and fillest all things, Treasury of good things and Giver of life, come and dwell in us and cleanse us of all impurity, and save our souls, O Good One.

These “quaint stories” of mistaken identity are anything but “quaint stories.” They are instead profound revelations of truth: Jesus is not a gardener or a stranger or a slob like one of us (and more about this later). Nor is he a ghost trying to make his way home, somehow lost and irrelevant in this real world. No, Jesus is the risen Lord of all creation before whom the angels and living creatures and elders and ten thousands of ten thousands say with a loud voice:


Worthy is the Lamb that was slain
to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength,
and honour, and glory, and blessing.

And yet again,

Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power,
be unto him that sitteth upon the throne,
and unto the Lamb for ever and ever. Amen (cf Rev. 5:11 ff, KJV).

Given this, it’s hard to mistake Jesus for a gardener or a stranger or even for a slob like one of us: the gospel accounts just won’t let us. But neither will the epistle let us mistake our own identity in Christ. It will not let us see ourselves as “slobs.”

Behold what manner of love the Father has given us that we may be called children of God – and we are. Therefore, the world does not know us because it did not know him. Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be. We know that if he is revealed we shall be like him, because we shall see him like he is (1 John 3:1-2).

I don’t know what your self-image is or where it comes from. I don’t know how others may have damaged it or else over-inflated it. I don’t know if you have been told lies about yourself or if you have lied to yourself. Regardless, it is time to hear the truth and from this moment on to live that truth: Beloved, you are a child of God now – right now – and, if you are abiding in Christ, you are on your way to being like Jesus – not the gardener or the stranger or the ghost or the slob – but the glorified, risen Jesus. There is no room for pride here – amazement, yes, and overwhelming gratitude, certainly – but no room for pride, because this is gift, this is grace.

Our identity as children of God is bound inextricably with Jesus’ identity as risen Lord. If Christ is not risen, Paul writes to the Corinthian Christians, then our faith is empty – futile – and we are still in our sins (cf 1 Cor 15:17) – not children of God at all, but strangers and aliens, dead in our sins. But – thanks be to God – Christ is risen and we are risen with him.

4 [But] God, who is abundant in mercy, because of His great love that He had for us, 5 made us alive with the Messiah even though we were dead in trespasses. By grace you are saved! 6 He also raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavens, in Christ Jesus, 7 so that in the coming ages He might display the immeasurable riches of His grace in [His] kindness to us in Christ Jesus. 8 For by grace you are saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is God's gift— 9 not from works, so that no one can boast. 10 For we are His creation—created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared ahead of time so that we should walk in them (Eph 2:4-10, HCS).

Children of God, raised with Christ, seated with him in the heavenly realms, and future recipients of immeasurable riches of God’s grace: this is who we are. This is our identity through Christ and with Christ and in Christ, through the power of his resurrection.

So this day continues the good and very good news of Pascha. Christ is risen and has appeared to us, not as gardener or stranger or slob like one of us, but as the risen Lord of all creation. And because of his resurrection, we are no longer slobs, but children of God. That’s who Christ is and that’s who we are. Thanks be to God!

Amen.

PODCAST OF THIS SERMON

[1]A term coined by J.R.R. Tolkien to describe “the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears,” http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Eucatastrophe.
[2] This image of Jesus appearing behind the closed doors of our lives is taken from a sermon by Fr. Laird Bryson, 19 April 2009, Apostles Anglican Church, Knoxville, TN, www.apostlesonline.org.
[3] Fr. Stephen Freeman is the priest of Saint Anne’s Orthodox Church in Oak Ridge, TN and author of Glory To God For All Things blog and Glory To God podcast on Ancient Faith Radio, http://fatherstephen.wordpress.com/ and http://ancientfaith.com/podcasts/freeman/, respectively.