Sermon: Thanksgiving Eve (21 November 2007)

Thanksgiving: 22 November 2007
(Deuteronomy 26:1-11/Psalm 100/Philippians 4:4-9/John 6:25-33)
Local Exception

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Eastern Orthodox churches are in the midst of their Advent fast: from November 15 through December 25 these Christians prepare themselves for the nativity of our Lord through fasting, prayer, spiritual reading, and almsgiving, much like our Western Lenten disciplines. So what about Thanksgiving, which falls near the beginning of the fast? No ham, no turkey and cranberry sauce? No dressing and broccoli casserole? No homemade bread and pumpkin pie? Well, let’s not grieve too much for our Orthodox brothers and sisters; they’ve worked this all out. Orthodox Christians in America are granted a local exception to the fast to allow for Thanksgiving observance; the fast is put on hold for the day, in the United States, to allow for local, American custom[1].

This solution, which might initially seem “hokey” to us, is actually quite elegant – and I think theologically sound – on so many levels. First there is the notion that for Christians, feasting takes precedent over fasting. While we should and do mourn our sins, we also celebrate the great redemption that is ours in Christ. While we fast from the things of earth for a time, we do so to build our appetites for the things of heaven so that we may feast all the more joyously on them. Fasting, rightly understood, is the prerequisite to all true feasting. Even in the midst of fasting periods – at least in the Western church – every Sunday is a feast day celebrating the resurrection of our Lord. Feasting takes precedence over fasting.

Then there is the notion that local custom – at least in some cases – takes precedence over universal practice. I just love this. It really follows St Paul’s instructions to the Corinthian Christians that the stronger brother ought to give way to the weaker so as not to damage his faith. If the Americans feel a need to celebrate a local holiday with feasting, well the universal church will give way and relax the fast so as not to tempt the Americans to break it. This is an act of grace to “weaker” brothers. What I love about this is the humility implied in the decision. And I’m not thinking primarily of the humble graciousness of the universal church. No, I’m thinking about the humility with which the American church must receive this kindness as the weaker brother in the body of Christ. And then there is the designation of Thanksgiving as a local custom. We are usually so jingoistic – so wrapped up in ourselves and convinced of our central place in the universe – that we can’t conceive of anything related to the United States as merely local. Surely the rest of the world observes our holidays! Sorry, no. So, the church makes a way for us to be who we are in the universal body of Christ without letting us forget that we no more or less important than any other member of that body. All this is a beautiful outworking of 1 Corinthians 8 – Paul’s instruction about eating meat offered to idols – a section many people skip, thinking it hopelessly outdated. It is refreshing and life-giving to see the church take that Word – take all the Word of God – seriously.

All of this has me thinking about Thanksgiving as a local, American custom. It seems only good and right that we should have such an observance; if ever a nation had cause for Thanksgiving, it is surely ours: this is not ethnocentrism – not national self-centeredness – but rather a humble acknowledgment of God’s many blessings to us. I feel personally and nationally as David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, did when he penned these words:

5The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. 6The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; I have a goodly heritage (Ps 16:5-6, NRSV).

I understand why so many foreigners seek to enter the U.S. either legally or illegally: our boundary lines, our borders, do indeed enclose pleasant places; we do have a goodly heritage. So Thanksgiving ought to be a local, American custom; it’s only fitting and right. Oh, we have our problems, too, of course: homelessness, poverty, lingering racism, cultural disintegration, consumerism. But we have the means and resources to solve these problems; all we lack are the will and wisdom to do so. Pleasant places. Goodly heritage.

4Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. 5Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Phil 4:4-7, NRSV).

Paul’s words to the Philippian Christians ring true here in the United States, here on the eve of our local observance of Thanksgiving. It is easy to rejoice when your boundary lines enclose pleasant places, when your real worries on Thanksgiving Day revolve around overeating or your favorite football team losing its game.

There is another world, though, other locales with other customs. In this other world more than 1.5 billion people live on less than a $1 a day. In this other world a child dies every three seconds from AIDS and extreme poverty, many before their fifth birthday. In this other world more than one billion people do not have access to clean water. In this other world more than 50 percent of Africans suffer from water-related diseases such as cholera and infant diarrhea. In this other world nore than 800 million people go to bed hungry every day, 300 million of them children. In this other world only eight percent of these 300 million children are victims of famine or other emergency situations. More than 90 percent are suffering long-term malnourishment and micronutrient deficiency. In this other world four out of every ten people don't have access even to a simple latrine. In this other world, in sub-Saharan Africa a woman has a 1 in 16 chance of dying in pregnancy, compareed with a 1 in 3,700 risk for a woman from North America.[2]

Yes, our boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places, but not so for this other world. I wonder if they have a local exception from the church to break their fast and celebrate Thanksgiving Day with feasting? Would it make any difference if they did? I wonder how they hear the text?

4Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. 5Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Phil 4:4-7, NRSV).

The world into which Jesus came looked a lot like this other world: poverty, homelessness, hunger, brutality. His boundaries encompassed a manger and a cross. He knew all these harsh realities personally. He came to offer an exception: not a local one, but a universal exception. He came to be that exception.

20 Then he looked up at his disciples and said:‘Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. 21‘Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.‘Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
22 ‘Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. 2323Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets (Luke 6:20-23, NRSV).

Break the fast. It is time for a new local custom that will be for all people. Feast on the bread of heaven. Drink living water from the springs of salvation. Raise the cup of the covenant. Come you poor. Come you hungry. Come you sorrowful. Come you persecuted. Come break your fast and join in the feast, for in Jesus the Kingdom of God is at hand. And that kingdom can be yours.

This is just another of the great paradoxes of our faith: that heirs of the Kingdom of God may be found living in abject poverty, that the hungry have life-giving bread of which the world knows nothing, that the homeless have an eternal dwelling with God, that those in deepest sorrow may yet rejoice in the Lord, that those burdened and crushed by the world may rise to walk in newness of life everlasting. Of course none of this releases us from our obligation to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, and visit the orphans and widows and prisoners in their distress. But it gives us good news – gospel – to bring along with our turkey and dressing or peanut butter sandwiches and Vienna sausages or bags of rice and beans, our warm blankets, our socks and shoes and gloves, our rides to the shelter, our embrace. It gives us a feast to share with those who have known too much of fasting.

Orthodox or not, let us enjoy the local custom of Thanksgiving tomorrow. Eat. Drink. Rejoice in the Lord. And let us share the feast – the blessings of our table and the Lord’s Table – with the world.

Amen.
[1] Ancient Faith Radio podcast of Frederica Mathews-Green, Frederic Here and Now, 11 November 2007, From Mennonite to Orthodox, available through i-Tunes.
[2] Taken from the Wikipedia article on extreme poverty.

Sermon: 25 Pentecost (18 November 2007)

25 Pentecost: 18 November 2007
(Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6/Psalm 72/Jude 20-25/John 14:1-14)
Amen.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In prior centuries, when scholars were more broadly literate than today, mathematicians concluded their formal proofs with a Latin flourish: Q.E.D. you would see written at the end – quod erat demonstrandum, that which was to be proved. Now mainly you just see little rectangular boxes – some blackened in, some mere outlines – like you often find at the end of magazine articles: No need to turn the page, the article’s over, these boxes announce.

The Creed also comes to us from another time, from prior centuries when theologians seemingly were more broadly immersed in the full life of Christ’s costly gospel than today. Many of the framers of the creeds – certainly it’s the case with the Nicene Creed – still bore on their bodies the marks of Jesus Christ, marks branded on them in times of intense persecution, marks like medals of honor and faithfulness. Αμην, these heroes of the faith wrote at the end of the Creed in their Greek language – amen.

I would like to think that Q.E.D. was more than a grammatical stop sign in the earlier proofs. I would like to think it sounded a note of triumph, that it served as a bold affirmation of the truth of all that went before, that it challenged the student to make the proof his own and to explore – perhaps for a lifetime – the implications of that proof. For some, it was only an ending: no need to turn the page, the proof’s over. For others though, it was a beginning. I’ve completed the work I was given, says the author. Now what will you do with it? asks the Q.E.D.

I would like to think that Amen is more than a theological stop sign in the Creed. I would like to think that it, too, sounds a note of triumph, that it serves as a bold affirmation of the truth of all that goes before, and that it challenges the church to make the creed its own and to explore – for a lifetime and beyond – the implications of that creed. For some, amen is only an ending. The Creed’s over. Now we can hurry through the next part of the service and maybe beat the Baptists to Calhoun’s. For others though, it might just be a beginning. We’ve completed the work we’ve been given, the great saints say. Now what will you do with it? asks the amen.

Is there a sermon here, in this single word amen? I think so. I think there’s a whole life to be lived inside this single word. It just may be that amen is as close as we can come to a distillation of the whole Christian experience into a single word. Amen is a proclamation of truth, a shout of praise, an agreement of faith, and an acceptance of God’s will: all in a single word.

The sound of the amen was never far from Jesus’ lips, particularly in the Gospel of John. Three times in his short discourse with Nicodemus we hear it, doubled for emphasis: Αμην, αμην, λεγω σοι – Truly, truly, I say to you. Truly, truly: Amen is a proclamation of truth. Of course, that’s problematic in our present, Western culture which apparently values tolerance over truth, political correctness over truth, “spin” over truth – a culture in which truth is in diminishingly short supply. We say we want the truth but then we run kicking and screaming from it. “I want the truth,” says LTJG Kaffe in the film A Few Good Men. “You can’t handle the truth!” replies Col. Jessup. That could be the script of our times. Politicians routinely lie to us for power because they think we can’t handle the truth, the truth that citizens are often little more to them than votes and contributions in their quest for election. Businesses and advertisers routinely lie to us for profit because they think we can’t handle the truth, the truth that humans are little more to them than consumers and sources of revenue. Academic institutions routinely lie to us for pride and prominence because they think we can’t handle the truth, the truth that man is not the measure of man, the truth that there is a God and that we are not that God. Worst of all, peddlers of God’s word – men who preach the prosperity gospel of health, wealth, and success, and practice it by living in opulence from the contributions of their flock– routinely lie to us because they think we can’t handle the truth, the truth that discipleship means taking up your cross and laying down your life.

In the midst of all this deception comes Jesus with his bold proclamation: I am the way, the truth, and the life. No man comes to the Father but by me. Αμην, αμην, λεγω σοι – Truly, truly, I say to you. Amen is a proclamation of truth. And so, the final word in the Creed is amen. By that single word we proclaim the truth of all that has gone before: that God is, that he created the heavens and the earth, that Jesus Christ is his Son and our Lord, that he was born of a virgin, that he suffered and died for our sins and rose again for our salvation, that he ascended into heaven, that he will come again, that we are his in the church and through the Holy Spirit, that we will one day stand before Christ the Judge, that our resurrected bodies will live forever in his presence. Amen. Truly it is so. We want the truth, the world says. This is it, we reply. Amen.

The sound of the amen was never far from Paul’s lips; it’s there in all his letters.

33 O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his ways! 34‘For who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counsellor?’ 35‘Or who has given a gift to him, to receive a gift in return?’ 36For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory for ever. Amen (Rom 11:33-36, NRSV).

3 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, 4who gave himself for our sins to set us free from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, 5to whom be the glory for ever and ever. Amen (Gal 1:3-5, NRSV).

20 Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, 21to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever. Amen (Eph 3:20-21, NRSV).

20To our God and Father be glory for ever and ever. Amen (Phil 4:20, NRSV).

17To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen (1 Tim 1:17).

On and on they flow from his heart and pen, these doxologies, these words of glory. Amen. Amen. If there is a natural language of humankind, a tongue heard in Eden before the fall, it is the language of praise. Amen. Amen. And when all is said and done, when Christ has trampled all enemies under his feet, when God is all and in all, it will be the language of praise that echoes throughout all space and time unto the ages of ages. Amen. Amen.

13Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, singing,‘To the one seated on the throne and to the Lambbe blessing and honour and glory and mightfor ever and ever!’ 14And the four living creatures said, ‘Amen!’ And the elders fell down and worshipped (Rev 5:13-14, NRSV).

When we stand together and pronounce our faith before one another and the world in the words of the Creed we give voice to the praise of all creation. Amen! we say with the four living creatures and with the elders we fall down and worship. Amen is a proclamation of truth. Amen is a shout of praise.

The sound of the amen was often far from the lips of the Corinthian church. Instead, some spoke in unintelligible tongues, spiritual language – a gift of the Holy Spirit apparently abused by the Corinthians. And still others were silent. Paul wrote them, in part, to restore the amen to its rightful and essential place in their worship.

13 Therefore, one who speaks in a tongue should pray for the power to interpret. 14For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays but my mind is unproductive. 15What should I do then? I will pray with the spirit, but I will pray with the mind also; I will sing praise with the spirit, but I will sing praise with the mind also. 16Otherwise, if you say a blessing with the spirit, how can anyone in the position of an outsider say the ‘Amen’ to your thanksgiving, since the outsider does not know what you are saying? 17For you may give thanks well enough, but the other person is not built up. 18I thank God that I speak in tongues more than all of you; 19nevertheless, in church I would rather speak five words with my mind, in order to instruct others also, than ten thousand words in a tongue (1 Cor 14:13-19, NRSV).

The amen is an agreement of faith, a voice of unity and solidarity. The amen is the voice of we and not merely the voice of me. The amen is the common voice of the common faith and prayer of the church. Through the years of my experience with the church I have heard many lousy prayers: prayers dripping with personal agenda, prayers founded on terrible theology, self-serving and self-promoting prayers. And these always leave me feeling cheated and sometimes angry. And why? Because the one praying should be voicing the common faith of the church. Because I should be able to add my amen – So be it! – to the prayer. Because prayer and worship may be private but never personal; it is always corporate. When we pray, even in our closet as Jesus advised, we pray with and for the church. When we worship, even with only two or three present, we worship with angels and archangels, with all the company of heaven, with martyrs and with the communion of saints in heaven and on earth. And all these long to cry out Amen! in their voice of agreement, of unity, of solidarity. However you may feel about liturgical prayer, those prayers voiced and preserved by the church through the centuries, those prayers endorsed by the church as expressions of our common faith, allow us to voice the amen. And that is worth something.

So, too, with the Creed. It has been voiced and preserved by the church through the centuries and endorsed by the church as an expression of our common faith. It protects me from idolatry – self-worship – and from heresy – misdirected worship. The creed allows me to say amen to the faith, and not me alone, but all the faithful in every time and place. This amen binds us together through Christ and with Christ and in Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, and brings glory and honor to God the Father. Amen! Amen is a proclamation of truth, a shout of praise, an agreement of faith.

The sound of the amen was never far from Mary’s lips, never far from her heart.

26 In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28And he came to her and said, ‘Greetings, favoured one! The Lord is with you.’ 29But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30The angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. 31And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.’ 34Mary said to the angel, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’ 35The angel said to her, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37For nothing will be impossible with God.’ 38Then Mary said, ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’ Then the angel departed from her (Luke 1:26-38, NRSV).

Mary’s response to the angel Gabriel voiced the perfect amen: “Let it be with me according to your word.” This may well be the most basic meaning of amen: “let it be,” or “may it be so.” And is this not the essence of the Christian life – a willingness to commit oneself fully into the hands of the Lord, to live in obedience to his will, to humbly submit to his word? We seek to understand the word and will of God. But it is more important to stand under the word and will of God. And here, Mary’s son Jesus is our greatest example.

42‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done’ (Luke 22:42, NRSV).

Your will be done. Let it be. May it be so. Amen.

When we voice the amen at the conclusion of the Creed we do so in an act of trust and submission and we commit ourselves to a life founded upon those words. Let it be to me according to these words. May it be so. Amen. Amen is a proclamation of truth, a shout of praise, an agreement of faith, and an acceptance of God’s will: all in a single word.

Is there a sermon here, in this single word amen? Or, as they might ask in Africa, “Will this preach?” Will a life lived inside this word preach to the world? Will it proclaim truth and shout praise? Will it witness to the solidarity and unity of a common faith lived in submission to God’s will? I think so.

Amen.

Sermon: 24 Pentecost (11 November 2007)

24 Pentecost: 11 November 2007
(Ezekiel 37:1-14/Psalm 27/1Corinthians 15:12-26/John 11:17-27)
I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

I like the first chapter of Matthew’s gospel in some Bible translations much better than in others; here, I prefer traditional over contemporary language. There’s real poetry in the opening lines.

1 The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham:2 Abraham begot Isaac, Isaac begot Jacob, and Jacob begot Judah and his brothers. 3 Judah begot Perez and Zerah by Tamar, Perez begot Hezron, and Hezron begot Ram. 4 Ram begot Amminadab, Amminadab begot Nahshon, and Nahshon begot Salmon. 5 Salmon begot Boaz by Rahab, Boaz begot Obed by Ruth, Obed begot Jesse, 6 and Jesse begot David the king. David the king begot Solomon by her who had been the wife of Uriah. 7 Solomon begot Rehoboam, Rehoboam begot Abijah, and Abijah begot Asa. 8 Asa begot Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat begot Joram, and Joram begot Uzziah. 9 Uzziah begot Jotham, Jotham begot Ahaz, and Ahaz begot Hezekiah. 10 Hezekiah begot Manasseh, Manasseh begot Amon, and Amon begot Josiah. 11 Josiah begot Jeconiah and his brothers about the time they were carried away to Babylon.12 And after they were brought to Babylon, Jeconiah begot Shealtiel, and Shealtiel begot Zerubbabel. 13 Zerubbabel begot Abiud, Abiud begot Eliakim, and Eliakim begot Azor. 14 Azor begot Zadok, Zadok begot Achim, and Achim begot Eliud. 15 Eliud begot Eleazar, Eleazar begot Matthan, and Matthan begot Jacob. 16 And Jacob begot Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus who is called Christ (Matthew 1:1-16, NKJV).

At least one thing is obvious from this passage: there was a whole lot of “begotting” going on in the story of Jesus. And “begotting” is a messy process. A marriage is arranged – there are some exceptions to that in this story, but it generally is the case. The husband and wife have sex, sometimes over the course of many years before conception occurs and sometimes only once; either way the conception is something of an ordinary miracle. The mother carries the child for nine months and worries the entire time about its safety and hers; delivery was risky business and many mothers and children simply didn’t survive it. The baby is born amidst water and blood and sweat and tears and screams of pain and joy. This whole “begotting” business is just messy stuff from start to finish. It’s messier still when you consider some of the shady characters in the genealogy. There are Judah and Tamar. Tamar was Judah’s daughter-in-law. She pretended to be a prostitute to seduce Judah and bear his child. And she was the “good” one in this story found in Genesis 38; Judah was the sleaze. There was Salmon’s wife, Rahab, the mother of Boaz who later married Ruth. Rahab’s “full name” was Rahab the Prostitute. You can read about her in Joshua 2. Solomon’s mother is described as “she who had been the wife of Uriah.” We know her better as Bathsheba, the woman with whom David committed adultery. Messy business this “begotting” stuff. And this whole messy process leads us to Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus who is called Christ.

I like all this mess. It looks like my life and connects me to the story. I like it when the Bible refuses to “pretty” up certain aspects of the story, when instead it shows God’s people warts-and-all as the very real, very flawed human beings we all know ourselves to be. It makes the Bible even more credible. Fiction can be tidy; not so truth. I like it that God has not bypassed our earthy humanity in favor of some idealized spirituality. God loves humans. He went to extraordinary lengths to save us as humans by becoming a human himself. What greater love could there be?

Not every early Christian group appreciated the messy way in which God works, though. The Docetists, very early on, denied that Jesus had a physical body at all; it was mere illusion. In reality he was pure spirit: incorporeal (not embodied) and eternal. The Gnostics, while not necessarily denying the humanity of Jesus, considered the physical body an obstacle to be transcended. Trapped within this prison of the body lives the spark of God – pure spirit – whose sole purpose is to escape the body and be reunited to God. It takes special, hidden, mystical knowledge – gnosis – to effect this escape. These early Christian heretics were dualists and saw an inherent conflict between the flesh – degraded and sinful they considered it – and the pure, uncorrupted spirit. God’s way seemed too messy for them, too earthy, too human; so, they created their own “better” way. And the church soundly rejected their version of the gospel. That’s why John writes

1Dear friends, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world. 2This is how you can recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, 3but every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the antichrist, which you have heard is coming and even now is already in the world (1 John 4:1-3, NIV).

The church adamantly rejected the dualists – “bad” body, “good” spirit is just bad theology – but they have remained with us to this day. They thrive both outside the church and inside the church. I suspect that most of us even have some latent, Gnostic tendencies. Want to do a little self-test? Picture the afterlife – life eternal in the presence of God. (Pause right now to visualize it. Where are you? What are you? What are you doing?) For many Christians, I suspect the image of the afterlife has been formed more by Hollywood than by scripture, more by commercials than by commentaries. To the extent that Hollywood even considers the afterlife, the dead are often portrayed as distressed spirits trying desperately to make contact with those remaining on earth. Commercials are even worse: spirits with wings floating on clouds and extolling the virtues of a particular brand of toilet tissue or cream cheese spread. These images parody and trivialize our faith but probably do it no real harm since they are so obviously foolish. Notions of those outside the church don’t concern me nearly as much as those inside the church. So, how did you do? How did you picture the afterlife?

The Creed says simply, “I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” Now I don’t want to crush any hopes – well, yes, I do: you are not going to be an angel. Ever. No wings despite the Christmas classic “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Sorry Clarence. No floating on clouds; that’s a misreading of scripture. No. You are going to be … well, you are going to be you – body and all. Have you ever been to funerals – I know you have – where people have said the “comforting” words, “He’s not here, dear. That’s just his body. He’s gone to heaven to be with the Lord.” Bless these saints; it’s right for them to offer comfort. But there’s more than a smidgen of gnosticism hidden in their assurances. Despite what they may think or say, human beings are not just spirits. Humans are bodies and spirits united as one. The New Testament never pictures the afterlife as an eternal realm of disembodied spirits praising God. We believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting. Nor does the New Testament picture us all going to live in heaven. No. It pictures a new heaven and a new earth. It pictures New Jerusalem, the city of God, descending out of heaven to the new earth to become the dwelling place of God and his people (Rev 21). The life everlasting will be messy no more – no “begotting,” no sorrow or pain or sickness or death or sin – but it will still be earthy and human. Our humanity is not something shoddy to be transcended, but something fallen to be glorified. God created us as humans. God loves us as humans. God redeems us as humans. And humans we shall be throughout eternity in his presence.

If you’re curious about the body you will be throughout eternity, read the post-resurrection accounts of Jesus in the gospels. Read 1 Corinthians 15. I can add nothing to those accounts really; that’s all we know – everything else is pure speculation. We will have bodies. They will be like Jesus’s resurrection body. They will be our very own bodies – I’ll never be other than John Roop – yet somehow transformed and glorified. It’s a transformation I’m looking forward to. Who wouldn’t when reading Paul’s words?

41There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; indeed, star differs from star in glory.
42 So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. 43It is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. 44It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a physical body, there is also a spiritual body. 45Thus it is written, ‘The first man, Adam, became a living being’; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. 46But it is not the spiritual that is first, but the physical, and then the spiritual. 47The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. 48As was the man of dust, so are those who are of the dust; and as is the man of heaven, so are those who are of heaven. 49Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we will also bear the image of the man of heaven (1 Cor 15:41-49, NRSV).

Paul is not being at all dualistic in this passage when he contrasts the spiritual body with the physical body. The physical body is our present state. The spiritual body is our glorified state when we join in the resurrection: imperishable, glorious, powerful – a body fully bearing the image of the man of heaven, Jesus Christ the Righteous. Humanity which has been enslaved to sin and corruption will finally be set free, not from the body, but from the fallen state of the body, at the resurrection from the dead, on the last day, when the last trumpet sounds,

For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. 53For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. 54When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in victory." 55"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" 56The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. 57But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
58Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain (1 Cor 15:52b-58, NIV).

So we believe in the resurrection of the body. Now, here’s the question: Except for the sake of theological orthodoxy, is that really important? Does it really matter whether in the life everlasting we will be disembodied spirits or glorified human bodies? Perhaps we should frame the questions a little differently: Are bodies important, or does only the spirit have value? More generally: Is matter important, or does only the spiritual have value? The answers seem obvious from a biblical standpoint, don’t they? In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth – matter – and pronounced his creation good. Yes, matter matters. It is of value in God’s eyes. The entire creation – rocks and trees and sky and rivers and air and snowy egrets and slugs and all created things – the entire creation has value in God’s eyes and must therefore have value in our eyes. And that includes bodies. Watch Jesus in action in the gospels. What is he doing? Healing broken bodies. Feeding hungry bodies. Raising to life again dead bodies. Feasting with sinful bodies. Dying for no-bodies, nobodies loved with a love more powerful than sin and death and hell.

The great danger in discounting the importance of the body is precisely that we will devalue bodies – that we will fail to heal and feed and clothe and shelter and visit and feast with those bodies around us, in short that we will fail to act like Jesus. A spiritualized faith – one that discounts the body – is no faith at all.

14What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save him? 15Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. 16If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? 17In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead (James 2:14-17, NIV).

When a Christian brother or sister tells you that we need not concern ourselves with poverty, homelessness, universal health care, HIV/AIDS, justice, genocide, and other global humanitarian crises – with the general state of humanity – because “Jesus came to save our souls,” there is a gnostic Christian who neither truly understands nor believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.

The great danger in discounting the importance of matter is precisely that we will devalue the material world – that we will rape our planet, hoard or squander our natural resource, pollute our air and water, exercise dominion but not stewardship, and generally turn the garden God created and pronounced good into a wasteland filled with the remains of a humanity that has ceased to bear God’s image. When a Christian brother or sister tells you that we need not concern ourselves with sustainable living, with pollution, with global warming – with the general state of our material world – because “this old world is temporary and our eternal home is in heaven,” there is a Gnostic Christian who neither truly understands nor believe in the resurrection of the body.

Do bodies matter? Does this world matter? Look again at Jesus. Look at the kingdom of God that existed wherever he was, and that will exist wherever he is.

1After Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and preach in the towns of Galilee.
2When John heard in prison what Christ was doing, he sent his disciples 3to ask him, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"
4Jesus replied, "Go back and report to John what you hear and see: 5The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. 6Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me" (Matthew 11:1-6, NIV).

Tell John what you see and hear. And what were the signs of the in-breaking of the kingdom of God? Physical blessing of broken bodies. Jesus seemed to think that was important. I suspect that wherever we see Jesus today – in the person of his disciple and his church – wherever the kingdom breaks into this fallen world, we will see the same. Bodies matter. This glorious creation of God matters. Now and unto the ages of ages.

We believe in the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.

Amen.

23 Pentecost: 4 November 2007

23 Pentecost: 4 November 2007
(Amos 5:18-24/Psalm 103/1 Thessalonians 5:12-28/Luke 18:9-14)
I believe…in the forgiveness of sins.

Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth,
set up your kingdom in our midst.
Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God,
have mercy on me a sinner.
Holy Spirit, breath of the living God,
renew me and all the world. Amen.


By the grace of God I am a Christian man, by my actions a great sinner, and by calling a homeless wanderer of the humblest birth who roams from place to place. My worldly goods are a knapsack with some dried bread in it on my back, and in my breast-pocket a Bible. And that is all.

On the 24th Sunday after Pentecost I went to church to say my prayers there during the Liturgy. The first Epistle of St. Paul to the Thessalonians was being read, and among other words I heard these – “Pray without ceasing.” It was this text, more than any other, which forced itself upon my mind, and I began to think how it as possible to pray without ceasing, since a man has to concern himself with other things also in order to make a living. I looked at my Bible, and with my own eyes read the words which I had heard, i.e., that we ought always, at all times and in all places, to pray with uplifted hands. I thought and thought, but knew not what to make of it. “What ought I to do?” I thought. “Where shall I find someone to explain it to me? I shall go to the churches where famous preachers are to be heard; perhaps there I shall hear something which will throw light on it for me.”

So begins The Way of the Pilgrim, the spiritual autobiography of an anonymous 19th century Russian peasant who wanders across Russia searching for a way to obey St Paul’s charge to pray without ceasing. He looks for the secret first in the churches but finds no answers there. Next he travels from village to village looking for holy men – spiritual guides – who might instruct him.

For a long time I wandered through many places. I read my Bible always, and everywhere I asked whether there was not in the neighborhood a spiritual teacher, a devout and experienced guide, to be found…At last toward evening [one day] I was overtaken by an old man who looked like a cleric of some sort. In answer to my question he told me that he was a monk belonging to a monastery some six miles off the main road. He asked me to go there with him. “We take in pilgrims,” said he, “and give them rest and food with devout persons in the guest house.” I did not feel like going. So in reply I said that my peace of mind in no way depended upon my finding a resting-place, but upon finding spiritual teaching. Neither was I running after food, for I had plenty of dried bread in my knapsack. “What sort of spiritual teaching are you wanting to get?” he asked me. “What is it puzzling you?”

The Pilgrim relates the nature of his quest to the old monk, who then crosses himself and gives thanks to God. This monk is the one for whom the Pilgrim has been searching, the one who can reveal the secret of unceasing prayer. Over the next several days he instructs the Pilgrim in the use of the prayer of the heart – the Jesus Prayer – developed by the first generations of desert monks in the 4th century. Based upon the prayer of the tax collector in the gospel reading, one calls upon the name of Jesus in the words “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me,” or, in its fuller form, “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.” This prayer is repeated frequently throughout the day – “in all occupations, at all times, in all places,” until the prayer is internalized in the heart and begins to pray itself.

The Jesus Prayer is a prayer of relationship and supplication. Jesus, the son of God, is Lord, I am sinner; that’s the relationship. Have mercy on me – that’s the supplication. Precisely because of the relationship – because Jesus is Lord – we can approach confidently seeking mercy: precisely because we believe in the forgiveness of sins as we proclaim in the creed.

Tom Wright has expanded on the Jesus Prayer a bit in what he calls the Trinity Prayer.

Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, set up your kingdom in our midst.
Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me a sinner.
Holy Spirit, breath of the living God, renew me and all the world.

This prayer captures an enormous amount of theology in very few words and takes some unpacking.

The God to whom we pray is the Almighty maker of heaven and earth; and, he is our Father. Because we are still sitting and not lying prostrate on the floor or kneeling crying “Thanks be to God!” I suspect we have heard this astounding truth so often that it’s lost it impact. The creator of heaven and earth, the one who speaks worlds into being, the almighty and eternal one, has condescended to become my father and yours. Further, he has a plan to restore his fallen creation, to put it to rights again, to heal it and us. The shorthand for that plan is the kingdom. So we pray for God himself, our Father, to set up his kingdom in our midst: right here, right now. Justice, righteousness, mercy, grace, love, peace, life: that’s the kingdom. Evil, abuse, hatred, war, sorrow, sickness, death, sin: all gone when the kingdom appears in our midst. “Let grace come and this world pass away,” says the post-Communion prayer of the Didache.

Kingdom-come depends completely on the redemptive work of the Lord Jesus Christ, the unique son of the living God, the son who is one in essence with the Father. “Have mercy on us sinners,” we pray because we know ourselves to be as much part of the problem with creation as we are part of the solution for creation. We are sinners in the broadest sense of the term – decent people, maybe, but sinners definitely. And this prayer helps us understand that by expanding our notion of sin. If we call upon God to set up his kingdom in our midst then anything that opposes kingdom-come is sin. In this sense there really are no neutral acts. What opposes God’s kingdom – even more, what does not promote God’s kingdom – is sin. The problem goes far beyond intentional, personal evil; it is failure to actively promote the coming of the kingdom of God. So, we very rightly pray: Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me a sinner.

The mercy and forgiveness that we pray for are also clarified and expanded by this prayer. The forgiveness that I seek – that I need – is far more than just a forensic (legal) declaration of not guilty. Of course I want to be declared by God not guilty. Who doesn’t? Of course I want to stand before him in Christ and hear him say that, for the sake of his only-begotten son, he will not count my sins against me. Who doesn’t? But I need more than just a declaration that still leaves me mired in sin and only relieves me of its penalty. I need to be relieved of sin itself. Sin is a disease for which I need a cure. I need the Holy Spirit to re-create me, to renew me in the image of God so that sin ceases to dominate me. I need forgiveness that is health and renewal and recreation. I need forgiveness that empowers me to conquer sin in the name of Jesus. So I pray: Holy Spirit, breath of the living God, renew me and all the world.

These prayers – the Jesus Prayer, the Trinity Prayer, even the Lord’s Prayer – make sense only if, as the creed says, we believe in the forgiveness of sins. We believe that sin is anything that opposes or fails to promote the coming of God’s kingdom in our midst. We believe that the forgiveness that is ours in Christ is more than a legal fiction; it is the restoration to health and wholeness and relationship with God and man – a renewal by the Holy Spirit. We believe in the forgiveness of sins.

As grand as all this is, it is still too small a notion of forgiveness – much too narrowly focused. In fact, it’s focused laser-like on me and on you. But to say in the creed that we believe in the forgiveness of sins means more; it means that we believe in forgiveness, that we accept forgiveness, not just as a gift to us but also as a vocation for us. We believe in forgiveness both personally and instrumentally. We believe that as God’s forgiven people we are to be God’s instruments of forgiveness in the world. In his biography of St Francis, G. K. Chesterton captured the essence of this instrumentality:

St. Francis walked the world like the Pardon of God. I mean that his appearance marked the moment when men could be reconciled not only to God but to nature and, most difficult of all, to themselves.

Having received forgiveness, Francis was compelled to proclaim forgiveness to the world, to be a troubadour for the Lord singing songs of pardon and mercy. That, too, is our calling, our vocation. And note the expansive view of forgiveness – not merely a crossing-off of debts owed, but healing and reconciliation. This is what we have received and what we are to offer.

What does this look like? It looks like Jubilee. You know about the Jubilee, the Hebrew celebration of the kingdom of God made manifest in the midst of his people. In a real way the Jubilee was God’s answer to the first part of Wright’s Trinity Prayer: Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, set up your kingdom in our midst. God declared every fiftieth year a year of Jubilee when all debts were canceled and all family property returned, when slaves were set free, and when the land lay fallow. Do you see it? The Jubilee is forgiveness writ large: pardon of debts, reconciliation of slaves, healing of the land and the nation: kingdom-come, God’s kingdom set up in our midst. That’s how we are to live our belief in the forgiveness of sins, by declaring Jubilee in Jesus’s name, by being the Jubilee people of God.

Right now much of the third world staggers under the burden of foreign debt. Having received loans from the member nations of the International Monetary Fund – money which was often stolen and squandered by corrupt third world leaders – these nations are now saddled with enormous interest payments which cripple their economies. Health care, education, sanitation, infrastructure – all these suffer because the very limited available funds must be used to service foreign debt. People suffer. In many cases our Christian brothers and sisters suffer. In all cases God’s people suffer. What does it mean to these people when Christians in the developed world stand shoulder to shoulder each Sunday and say, “We believe in the forgiveness of sins”? What would Jubilee look like for these people?

Thousands in our own country lack health care, quality education, adequate housing, and sufficient nutrition. What does it mean to these people when their Christian neighbors stand shoulder to shoulder each Sunday and say, “We believe in the forgiveness of sins”? What would Jubilee look like for these people?

Families lie in shambles all around us: in our communities, among our friends, in our churches – the victims of selfishness, abuse, neglect. What does it mean to these people when those who ignore or even cause their suffering stand shoulder to shoulder each Sunday and say, “We believe in the forgiveness of sins”? What would Jubilee look like for these people?

AIDS ravages Africa and Haiti. Wars rage in Iraq and Afghanistan. Genocide proceeds unabated in Darfur. Inhumane treatment is common in the Palestinian territories and bombings are not infrequent in Israel. Teachers and priests prey sexually on the most vulnerable among us. Video games, films, and music celebrate murder and torture. Consumerism is rampant as are hunger and homelessness. “We believe in the forgiveness of sins. We believe in grace and mercy and pardon and reconciliation and healing.” What does it mean when we stand shoulder to should each Sunday morning and proclaim this? Where is Jubilee? What would it look like for God to set up his kingdom in our midst – set it up using you and me as his instruments? It would look like Jubilee. I don’t know what to do about this, at least not on the large scale where the problems seem too massive for me even to dent. But I do know that I am part of the problem: that I benefit from structures that damage others, that I use resources in unsustainable ways, that I squander goods that might provide necessities for others, that I turn blind eyes and deaf ears to the sins of my world. I am ready to accept God’s forgiveness, but much less willing to bring it to others – to work for their pardon, healing, and reconciliation. And so I pray, “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” because I desperately need his mercy and because I believe in the forgiveness of sins.

The weight of the sin of the world is too heavy for me to bear. Thanks be to God I don’t have to bear it. Jesus did that when he bore the weight of the cross. He is the source of forgiveness. But, he did tell me to take up my cross daily and follow him – to be his instrument of forgiveness in my small piece of the world. Yes, there is crushing poverty in the third world, but there are also homeless and hungry people on many street corners and under many bridges right here in our community who need a declaration of Jubilee. There are children in Knoxville with lousy parents, with absent parents, with no significant adult presence in their lives who need a declaration of Jubilee. There are widows and orphans and prisoners who need a declaration of Jubilee. There are the old, the sick, the lonely, the frightened, the forgotten in hospitals and nursing homes who need a declaration of Jubilee. There are the addicted, the prostitutes, the abused and the abusers who need a declaration of Jubilee. All right here in our midst. All waiting for the kingdom of God to be set up in our midst. All waiting for Jubilee. All waiting for the forgiveness of sins. So the creed poses us some questions. Do we really believe in the forgiveness of sins? Are we really willing to be God’s instruments of forgiveness? Will we really pray for and work for the establishment of God’s kingdom in our midst? Will we declare Jubilee to our small piece of the world?

21 Then Peter came and said to him, ‘Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?’ 22Jesus said to him, ‘Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.
23 ‘For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. 24When he began the reckoning, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him; 25and, as he could not pay, his lord ordered him to be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, and payment to be made. 26So the slave fell on his knees before him, saying, “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything.” 27And out of pity for him, the lord of that slave released him and forgave him the debt. 28But that same slave, as he went out, came upon one of his fellow-slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and seizing him by the throat, he said, “Pay what you owe.” 29Then his fellow-slave fell down and pleaded with him, “Have patience with me, and I will pay you.” 30But he refused; then he went and threw him into prison until he should pay the debt. 31When his fellow-slaves saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed, and they went and reported to their lord all that had taken place. 32Then his lord summoned him and said to him, “You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33Should you not have had mercy on your fellow-slave, as I had mercy on you?” 34And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he should pay his entire debt. 35So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart’ (Mt 18:21-35, NRSV).

The word of the Lord.

Amen.

All Saints': 1 November 2007

All Saints: 1 November 2007
(Ecclesiasticus 44:1-15/Psalm 149/Ephesians 1:15-23/Matthew 5:1-12)
I believe…in the communion of saints.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Personal evil confounds us. Two teenage boys – children – Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold enter Columbine High School with legal weapons of mass destruction and murder 12 of their classmates, one of their teachers, and wound 23 others. When the initial shock and sorrow abate enough that we can begin to think, we turn to questions like Why? and How could this happen? and What could possibly turn children into murderers? Several contributing factors were proposed by a commission of law enforcement agents, mental health professionals, and representatives of the Columbine community and other communities where school shootings had occurred: school cliques; bullying; and the desensitizing effect of violent video games, films, and music among them. Underneath all the analyses lies a basic assumption: Something went wrong here. Killers are made, not born. Evil is a matter of nurture gone terribly wrong, and not a matter of nature.

Personal evil sickens us, particularly evil directed against the most vulnerable in society – children. Sexual abuse of children is especially abhorrent to us – and troublesome from the standpoint of justice. We know, based on extensive records, that pedophiles are serial criminals. If we let them out of jail, they will victimize other children. Rehabilitation – at least the kind conducted in jails and medical offices – doesn’t often work. But here, in the presence of this kind of evil, we are not as likely to ask about causes or contributing factors. We seem more likely to think that some people are born with sexual perversions and that such tendencies are truly part of who they are, so that they are unable to change. This type of evil is born, not made. This type of evil is a matter of nature gone terribly wrong, and not a matter of nurture.

Of course I have over-simplified the nature of evil here. But I’ve done so to make what I think is a valid point. Evil confounds us. It begs for an explanation and our society – deprived of the wisdom and language of the Christian community -- has no definitive one to offer. Sometimes we conclude that evil is a matter of nature and sometimes that it is a matter of nurture. Are evil people born or made? The debate continues because evil confounds us.

I am equally confounded by good. A bright, articulate, successful college student leaves behind a promising career to live with and advocate for the homeless in Philadelphia, becoming, in effect, one of them. Almost no one notices. No commissions are convened to ask Why? or How could this happen? or What could possible turn a self-absorbed college student into homeless advocate? A brilliant doctor sees Haiti for the first time and loses his heart there, giving up a lucrative practice for the challenge of eliminating HIV/AIDS and pneumonia in the third world. Why? How could this happen? What could turn a recipient of the American dream into a third-world champion?

Good confounds us. It too, begs for an explanation, but no one seems to notice. In many ways good is much more a societal threat and embarrassment than evil; we tend to avert our gaze from it. People seem to expect great evil, but not great good and we don’t quite know what to make of it.

I believe in… the communion of saints we Christians say in the Creed, and on this day we celebrate All Saints. And so, we are called upon to notice good, to give an explanation for extraordinary good, for the presence of saints among us in this and every time: Who are they? and How did they come to be this way? and What could possibly explain how they turned from “ordinary people” into champions of faith and virtue and love? Is it nature or nurture? Are saints born or made?

As with so many either/or questions the true answer is, Yes. Are saints a product of nature or nurture? Yes. Are saints born or made? Yes. There is no contradiction here – paradox and mystery, certainly; but contradiction, no.

The church at Corinth was a mess by anyone’s measure, and Paul knew that better than most. What a burden that church was to him: doctrinal confusion, divisions, lawsuits among believers, drunken and gluttonous celebrations of the agape meal – the Eucharist – gross sexual immorality, fellowship at pagan feasts. It would have been easy to write this group off as a failed attempt at Gentiles doing church badly. And yet, Paul knew better. He didn’t write them off; he wrote them a love letter – tough love, yes, but love nonetheless.

Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, and our brother Sosthenes,

To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, together with all those who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor 1:1-3, NRSV).

Of course you picked up on the greeting: Paul called these very flawed and struggling Christians saints – holy ones in the Greek of Paul’s letter. How could he? How could he seriously use the language of sainthood to describe these people? Paul could call the Corinthians – flawed as they were – saints because he knew that saints are born, or more truly, saints are born again, born of water and the Spirit. You are saints, Paul could write them, because

[But] you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God (1 Cor 6:11b, NRSV).

The Gospel is proclaimed, the wind of the Spirit blows, faith is kindled, and sinners enter the baptismal water. Saints emerge. There is new creation. There is new birth. Saints are born “not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God” (John 1:13, NRSV) and they are children of God through our Lord Jesus Christ. This is the nature of sainthood: new birth in Jesus Christ.

Just as birth is the beginning of life, new birth is the beginning of sainthood. And just as we grow into the fullness of our humanity, so too must we grow into the fullness of our sainthood. The Corinthians still needed much growth.

And so, brothers and sisters, I could not speak to you as spiritual people, but rather as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ. 2I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now you are still not ready, 3for you are still of the flesh. For as long as there is jealousy and quarrelling among you, are you not of the flesh, and behaving according to human inclinations (1 Cor 3:1-3)?

In Corinth we find saints behaving badly, behaving not according to their true spiritual identity as saints, but according to human passions. They had not ceased to be saints, but they had not grown as expected and intended. The Hebrew writer encountered a similar condition among his charges.

11 About this we have much to say that is hard to explain, since you have become dull in understanding. 12For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic elements of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food; 13for everyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is unskilled in the word of righteousness. 14But solid food is for the mature, for those whose faculties have been trained by practice to distinguish good from evil.

6Therefore let us go on towards perfection, leaving behind the basic teaching about Christ, and not laying again the foundation: repentance from dead works and faith towards God, 2instruction about baptisms, laying on of hands, resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgement (Heb 5:11-6:2).

Infants, these two writers call the saints, because they both knew that saints aren’t just born, saints are made. Sainthood depends both on nature – the new birth in Christ – and nurture – cooperation with the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit in fellowship with the church. Growing up into sainthood is not hard: fast, pray, give, serve, obey, deny yourself, take up your cross, lay down your life. Well, OK, maybe it is hard. But it’s not all that mysterious. We know the way because others have walked it ahead of us and we have their witness.

Hebrews 11, part of that witness, is often called the roll call of the faithful. It starts with a description – not really a definition, but a poetic description – of faith:

11 Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. 2Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. 3By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible (Heb 11:1-3, NRSV).

And then it continues with examples of faith – the roll call of the faithful – with examples of Old Testament saints: Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Rahab. The writer is on a roll now, saints gushing from his pen onto the parchment and he has to force himself to stop and catch his breath.

And what more should I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets— 33who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, 34quenched raging fire, escaped the edge of the sword, won strength out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. 35Women received their dead by resurrection. Others were tortured, refusing to accept release, in order to obtain a better resurrection. 36Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. 37They were stoned to death, they were sawn in two, they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented— 38of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground.
39 Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, 40since God had provided something better so that they would not, without us, be made perfect (Heb 11:32-40, NRSV).

No infants these. We look up to them, as we should. They are our examples, our mentors in the faith. And we could add others to the list: Zechariah, Elizabeth, John the Baptist, Mary, Joseph, the Apostles, Stephen, Polycarp, Irenaeus, Athanasius, Perpetua, Justin, Francis, Clare, Mother Teresa, John Paul II – all those who have grown up in the faith, who have moved from their new birth as saints into the fullness of their vocation as saints. These saints were born, yes; but they were also made by presenting themselves as living sacrifices, holy and acceptable unto God, their reasonable service of worship.

Hebrews tells us that these sainst are with us still, as a cloud of witness to cheer us on in our own growth into sainthood.

12 Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, 2looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God (Heb 12:1-2, NRSV).

These saints – those in heaven and on earth – form one family, one communion. We are in this great adventure of faith together; your name joins theirs in the roll call of the faithful. In a profound expression of the communion of saints, the writer of Hebrews says,

39 Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, 40since God had provided something better so that they would not, without us, be made perfect (Heb 11:39, NRSV).

These great heroes of the faith, these great saints, cannot reach perfection, cannot attain the fullness of their sainthood apart from us. We are truly in this together, in this communion of saints.

Are saints born or made? Yes. Are saints the product of nature or nurture? Yes. It is no contradiction to state, You are a saint, now become a saint. We must become what we are because we live in the between-times or, as Robert Benson might say, between the dreaming and the coming true. We are already saints, but not yet perfected in our sainthood, so we still must grow into the fullness of our identity and vocation as the saints of God. And we must look to those saints who have gone before and those who are still present with us as a great cloud of witnesses strengthening us and urging us onward toward the high calling that is ours in Christ Jesus.

I believe…in the communion of saints.

Amen.
_____________________________________

On this most fitting night, we consecrate an icon of the Blessed Virgin Mary written by the hand of our sister Susan. Why do we have icons in our church when so many others do not? Simply because we truly believe in the communion of saints. We believe that these whose icons adorn our worship are alive to God and to us, that they surround us as a cloud of witnesses – witnessing to the glory of God and the power of the Holy Spirit to move men and women beyond their birth as saints toward the fullness of their sainthood. These saints we honor – Mary among them – are not different in kind than we are; we, too are saints. But perhaps – likely – they are different in degree, farther along in maturity than we are. Their icons remind us of their presence with us and their example for us. Mostly their icons remind us of Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours, the author and perfecter of the faith shared by this great communion of saints.


The Blessing and Hallowing of Icons

Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
And blessed be his kingdom, now and for ever. Amen.

Trisagion (repeated three times)
Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy Immortal One,
Have mercy upon us.

Blessed are you our only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, who dwells in light unapproachable from before time and forever, whom no one has ever seen or can see.

Praise the Lord for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever.

May your favor, O Lord our God, rest upon us.
Establish the work of your servants’ hands –
yes, bless the work of your servants’ hands.

O Lord our God,
who created us after your own image and likeness;
who redeems us from the ancient curse
through your only-begotten Son our Lord Jesus Christ, the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of creation, in whom the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, through whom also, in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
we are renewed in your likeness;

send forth, we pray, your blessing upon this icon,
and with the sprinkling of Holy Water
bless and make holy this icon unto your glory,
in honor and remembrance of your saint,
the blesséd Virgin Mary;
and grant that, as you have made us one
with your saints in heaven and on earth,
we may in our earthly pilgrimage always be supported
by their witness to your power and mercy
and so run with perseverance the race that is before us,
looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith;
with whom you are blessed,
together with your all-holy, good, and life-giving Spirit,
both now and for ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Sprinkling cross fashion the icon with Holy Water, the Celebrant prays:

Hallowed and blessed is this icon
of the blesséd Virgin Mary
by the grace of the Holy Spirit,
through the sprinkling of Holy Water:
in the name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Collect of the Blesséd Virgin Mary
Almighty God,
with grace you have made the blesséd Virgin Mary
to be the mother of your only Son;
by the same grace,
hallow our bodies in chastity
and our souls in humility and love;
through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns
with You and the Holy Spirit,
one God for ever and ever. Amen.

Blesséd are you, O Virgin Mary,
for you believed that what was said to you
by the Lord would be fulfilled.

Blesséd are you, Mary, the Lord is with you:
through you we received our Redeemer,
the Lord Jesus Christ.

Blesséd are you, O Lord Jesus Christ,
King of heaven and earth.
We praise you for your virgin birth;
You are the Father’s only Son,
With God the Spirit, ever one. Amen.

Let us bless the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

Sermon: 22 Pentecost (28 Oct 2007)

22 Pentecost: 28 October 2007
(Acts 2:37-47/Psalm 133/1 Peter 2:4-10/Matthew 16:13-20)
…the one holy catholic and apostolic Church

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Brother Jim Thompson came,
the oldest,
with overalls and a white shirt buttoned at the collar,
with a walking cane and a Bible
that had stood fifty years of pounding,
and with that old fire burning through his cataracts.
Didn’t need no seminary.
Always preached the Bible
and the Lord Jesus Christ
crucified and buried and
raised from the dead.

Brother Hamer came
and Brother Ewart
and the three Walker boys,
preachers all.
They came through rain,
wrestling with the wheels of their out-of-county cars,
sliding in ruts so deep the tail pipes dragged.
They parked under the trees and along the road,
then walked, shined shoes and all,
through the mud,
picking their way along the high spots
like children jumping puddles.
Into the church of their fathers,
the place they had felt the call,
the old home church
where thousands of hands had pressed
on the bowed heads of new preacher boys,
of sun-reddened young men called by the Lord,
called from the cotton fields to preach the word.
They had felt the hands,
these old preachers,
felt those blunt-fingered, work-hardened hands,
felt them like a blessing,
like an offering,
like a burden.
Felt them at weddings and baptizings,
felt them in the heat of a summer revival sermon,
in the agony of a baby’s funeral,
in the desperate prayer against some killer disease,
in the frustrating visit with a mind gone senile.
And now the old preachers came to lay their hands
on the head of a new kind of preacher,
a preacher from the seminary,
a preacher who studied the Bible in Greek and Hebrew,
who knew about religions they never heard of,
who knew about computers
with memory banks full of sermons
and many other modern things.
A new kind of preacher,
and yet,
a preacher who still would feel on her head
the hands
like a commandment
from all the preachers and deacons who ever were.
Ordination, James Autry

I’ve felt these hands as blessing and offering and burden three times – deacon, elder, pastor – my father’s hands; two generations of church men, the old ones who still smoked on the church stoop between Sunday School and church and their sons who hoped and prayed they could fill those good men’s shoes; your hands. Blessing, offering, burden – that sums it up nicely. With the press of your hands still imprinted on my head I committed before God and that great cloud of witnesses in this world and the world to come that I would “proclaim the faith of the church and no other.” Knowing that I will one day stand before the judgment seat of our Lord Jesus Christ to give account of my stewardship, knowing that teachers will be judged more strictly, I take this commitment most seriously.

As an elder and pastor my charge is to contend for that faith once for all entrusted to the saints (Jude 3) – to faithfully pass on to this generation and the next that faith which has been believed “always, everywhere, and by all” (Commonitory, Vincent of Lérins): not my faith, but the faith of the church and no other. This is my blessing, my offering, and my burden – mainly blessing and offering. But not today. Today this charge is burden. Today we say, I believe in the holy catholic Church, or, in the longer version of the Nicene Creed, We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. And this weighs on me as a heavy burden. When we arrive at this statement, I don’t know how to fulfill my commitment to proclaim the faith of the church, because I don’t know what the faith of the church is – right here at this point. Here’s the problem. I can stand with my Orthodox and Catholic brothers and sisters and proclaim our common belief in the one holy catholic and apostolic Church but I cannot, on the basis of that belief, then join them at the table of our Lord. And why? Because they do not believe we are part of that one holy catholic and apostolic church. The Catholics do not share Eucharistic fellowship with the Orthodox. The Orthodox do not share Eucharistic fellowship with the Catholics. Neither of them share Eucharistic fellowship with Protestants. And it is all because we have no common faith in, no common understanding of the one holy catholic and apostolic church. I can tell you what each group believes about the church, but I cannot tell you what the church believes about the church simply because there is no consensus of the faithful. Everyone seems to believe that there is indeed one holy catholic and apostolic church, but no one seems to believe that anyone else is part of it. It is as if Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians – a church noted for internal struggle and division – had been ripped from Scripture and lost to our collective memory.

21The eye cannot say to the hand, "I don't need you!" And the head cannot say to the feet, "I don't need you!" 22On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, 24while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, 25so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 26If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.
27Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it (1 Cor 12:21-27, NIV).

While Paul was speaking of the local church as the body of Christ, certainly his insistence on its divine, fundamental unity could be extended to the universal church as well. We need our Catholic and Orthodox brothers and sisters and they need each other and us. Despite their protestations, we are one.

While it may not be possible to tell what the church actually believes about itself, it is possible to tell what the church should believe about itself. And it’s all there in the creed: We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

The creed starts with this basic understanding: The church is one. Thomas Campbell, a leader in the Restoration Movement of the 18th-19th centuries, expressed this fundamental understanding in his book Declaration and Address.

[That] the church of Christ upon earth is essentially, intentionally, and constitutionally one; consisting of all those in every place that profess their faith in Christ and obedience to him in all things according to the scriptures, and that manifest the same by their tempers and conduct, and of none else as none else can be truly and properly called Christians (Prop. 1).

Campbell says the church is essentially one, that is, one in its very essence. It cannot be different because the Lord has created the church in precisely this way.

There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all (Eph 4:4-6, NRSV).

There is one church precisely because there is one Spirit who calls it together and gives it life, because there is one Lord – Jesus Christ – its head, because there is one common faith by which we are born anew, because there is one baptism for the forgiveness of sins, and because there is one God who is above all and through all and in all.

Hear, O Israel, the LORD our God, the LORD is one. Hear, O his people, the church, his church, is one.

But being one does not mean that each church is, or must be, identical. We must be careful never to mistake the church’s essential unity for cookie-cutter uniformity: within unity there lies great room for diversity. Clearly, from St. Luke’s record in Acts, the Jerusalem church and the Antiochian church had significant differences. James – the brother of our Lord and himself a devout, messianic Jew – led the primarily, or exclusively, Jewish Jerusalem church. Observance of the Mosaic Law was apparently typical among the brothers and sisters there. In Antioch, though, the situation was decidedly different. That vibrant, evangelistic congregation was an eclectic mix of Jews and Gentiles sharing a common life together without the restrictions of Mosaic Law. What was required of Jerusalem and Antioch was not uniformity, but a determination to live their new lives in Christ together in spite of – and just maybe in celebration of – their very real differences.

I’m not advocating unrestrained liberalism here – an “anything goes” approach to the faith. Far from it. Just as every circle must have a circumference, our faith must have boundaries of orthodoxy. No Christian church is free to deny the deity of Christ, for example, and remain in fellowship with the one holy catholic and apostolic Church. It is apostate and must repent or be excluded; it has, in reality, excluded itself. No church is free to replace the bread and wine of the Eucharist with Twinkies and grape Kool-Aide or to eliminate baptism in favor of a hazing ritual and an initiation fee. Certain elements of faith and practice are non-negotiable – but not every element of faith and practice. Scripture is our constitution; it is normative for both faith and practice, and the Creeds and Councils and writings of the Fathers help us interpret Scripture rightly. We look to what has been believed "always, everywhere, and by all” as a mark of the orthodox faith but allow for significant variations in the expression of that orthodox faith.

I will hazard a theological analogy here. The Holy Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – are one in essence, but three in persons. Within the unity of divine essence there is nevertheless diversity of personhood. Might this just be true of the church, as well? The church is one in essence – one Spirit, one faith, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of all – but diverse in expression. Perhaps we could say it this way: If the church is a language, then there are many dialects, all of which may, and must, communicate the truth. We believe in one … Church.

We also believe that the one Church is a holy Church. Groucho Marx once said, “I wouldn’t belong to any club that would have me as a member.” I feel that way sometimes about the church. Why would I want to belong to a church that would let sinners like me in? How can it be holy if I belong to it? Let me suggest two answers that take us off the hook and one that puts us right back on again.

First, the church is holy because it is the temple of God, a temple indwelt by the Holy Spirit. In speaking of the danger of divisions in the church Paul writes to the Corinthians,

Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you?

If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him: for God’s temple is sacred, and you are that temple (1 Cor 3:16-17, NIV).

The context of this passage makes it clear that Paul is not speaking to individuals but to the church: the church is God’s temple and God’s Spirit lives in that church; therefore, it is sacred. It is holy.

The church is also holy because it is set apart for God’s use. That is perhaps the most basic meaning of holy: set apart, consecrated for God’s use and to God’s glory. The church is holy because God has called us out of the world to be a kingdom and priests, because he has set us apart as his image bearers in this world.

In both of these meanings – holy as the temple of God and holy as being set apart for God’s use and glory – holiness is not an attribute of man, but of God. That’s how even a church that would let me in can still be considered holy. But I’m not totally off the hook just yet; there is another aspect of holiness that does involve me, that does make demands on you.

I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sister, by the mercies of God, to present you bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect (Rom 12:1-2, NRSV).

Historically the church has emphasized orthodoxy – right faith – and somewhat neglected orthopraxy – right practice, right action, right living. The question, at least among many evangelical protestants, has for too long been, Have you prayed the sinner’s prayer? rather than, Are you living the disciple’s life? Yes, holiness is an attribute of God, but an attribute into which we are to grow. The Methodists call it sanctification – the process of a believer actually becoming holy in thought, word, and deed. The Orthodox call it theosis – deification – a deepening union with God. Regardless of what word we use, it is the goal of our faith.

As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance.

But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy” (1 Pe 1:14-16, NIV).

The church that welcomes sinners must also be the church that produces saints. We believe in one holy … Church.

The church is catholic the Creed says: small c, no Roman in front of it – just catholic. As far as we know St. Ignatius of Antioch (35-107) first used the term catholic church in writing a letter to the church at Smyrna while he was en route to his martyrdom. Ignatius was a strong proponent of the episcopacy; he felt the bishop was the unifying force and the protector of the faith in the church, and he wrote to the Smyrnaeans to encourage their obedience to their bishop.

Wherever the bishop appears, there let the people be; as wherever Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church
— Letter to the Smyrnaeans 8, J.R. Willis translation.

As Ignatius uses the word katholikos (καθολικός), catholic means universal. The catholic church is that church dispersed throughout the whole earth which yet maintains a single faith. The catholic church is that church which unmistakeably bears the image of Christ. Irenaeus writing around 180 also emphasized this catholic nature of the church.

Although dispersed throughout the whole world, even to the ends of the earth, the church has received this faith from the apostles and their disciples… Although she is scattered throughout the whole world, yet, she carefully preserves it, as if she occupied only one house. She also believes these points just as if she had only one soul, and one and the same heart. She proclaims these things, teaches them, and hands them down, with perfect harmony – as if she possessed only one mouth. For although the languages of the world are different, yet the significance of the tradition is one and the same. For the churches which have been planted in Germany do not believe or hand down anything different. Neither do those in Spain, Gaul, the East, Egypt, Libya, or in the central regions of the world.

Jesus instructed his disciple to be his witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the uttermost parts of the world – in short, to call into being a truly catholic church, and that they did. The Christians in China, Russia, Iraq, Iran, Israel, Turkey are as much our brothers and sisters as those Christian right across the street. We believe in one holy catholic…Church.

And that church is apostolic. Now some will argue – our Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Anglican brothers and sisters, for example – that a church is only apostolic if it possesses a pedigree that reaches back to the apostles, that is, if there is an unbroken line of episcopal ordinations from the apostles to the present bishop – apostolic succession they call it. In all fairness, some of the Church Fathers may be read in agreement with this position. But in our time we have seen bishops in such apostolic succession so compromise the faith and practice of the church that it no longer resembles the one holy catholic and apostolic Church. More important it seems than such a historical pedigree is a spiritual pedigree. Can a church trace its faith and practice through an unbroken line to the apostles? Do we believe and profess and practice a faith that the apostles would recognize as their own? If so, the church is apostolic. If not, no Episcopal succession will make the church apostolic. So writes Tertullian (c. 197) of those churches who

although they do not have as their founder the apostles or apostolic men (as being of much later date, for churches are in fact being founded daily), yet, since they agree in the same faith, they are considered to be no less apostolic because they are alike in doctrine.

We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

In the creed we confess a church that is essentially one because it has one Spirit, one faith, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of all; a church that is holy because it is set apart for God’s use and to his glory and because it is comprised of sinners who will not rest until they are saints; a church that is catholic because it bears the image of Christ throughout the entire world; a church that is apostolic because it faithfully preserves the faith and practice of those men who knew Jesus and who were commissioned to go into all the world making disciples and teaching them to observe all things that Jesus commanded. Whatever we may believe about the church, this is the reality of the church. And so, with thanks to God the Father, through Jesus Christ, in the unity of the Spirit we proclaim that we believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

Amen.

Sermon: 21 Pentecost (21 Oct 2007)

21 Pentecost: 21 October 2007
(Acts 2:1-4, 14-21/Psalm 104:25-37/Ephesians 4:1-6, 14-16/Matthew 3:13-17)
I believe in the Holy Spirit.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Summary: The Christian life is life in the Spirit. We are conceived by the Spirit when we hear the gospel and the Spirit stirs faith within us. We are born of the Spirit in baptism, sealed as Christ’s own forever, and given a new identity in the Spirit. We mature in the Spirit as we submit to and cooperate with the process of sanctification (theosis), the process of growing in Christ-likeness and union with God.

The newly-baptized servant of God stands by the baptistery clothed in a white robe – the external, physical sign of the inner, spiritual robe of righteousness – clothed with light as with a garment. The celebrant offers the prayer of Holy Chrismation.

Blessed are You, Lord, God, Ruler of all, Source of all good things, Sun of Righteousness. You have raised up a light of salvation for those in darkness, through the manifestation of Your only-begotten Son and our God. Though we are unworthy, You have given us a blessed cleansing in holy water and a living sanctification through holy anointing. Now, to Your newly enlightened servant, You have been pleased to give new birth by water and the Spirit, for the forgiveness of his sins, whether committed willingly or unwillingly. Therefore, O Master, and gracious King of all, grant him also the seal of the gift of Your holy, almighty and adorable Spirit and the communion of the holy Body and precious Blood of Your Christ. Keep him in Your holiness, strengthen him in the true faith, and deliver him from the evil one and all his deceitful ways. Keep him in purity and righteousness by a fear of You that brings salvation, that he may please You in his every word and deed and become a son and an heir of Your heavenly kingdom. For You are our God, a God of mercy and salvation, and we give glory to You, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and ever and forever. Amen.

After this prayer, the celebrant anoints the newly-baptized servant of God with holy chrism – holy oil – making the sign of the cross on the forehead, eyes, nostrils, ears, breast, hands and feet saying,

The seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This ancient rite is holy remembering in word and symbol. For, as Jesus told Nicodemus, we are born of water and Spirit. As Jesus told Photini – the woman at Jacob’s well in Samaria – true worshipers must worship the Father in Spirit and in truth. As those who have been reborn through baptism, as those who truly worship the Father, we are people of the Spirit. We proclaim not only with our lips but with our lives the words of the Creed, I believe in the Holy Spirit. We not only believe in the Spirit, we live in the Spirit.

It’s all mystery, this life in the Spirit. Jesus likens it to the wind: unseen, powerful, unpredictable. To a confused and struggling Nicodemus Jesus says,

The wind blows wherever it will, and you hear the sound it makes, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit (John 3:8, NET).

Human conception is a mystery – not the mechanics of it but the creation of life where an instant before there was nothing: so, too, the creation of life in and through the Spirit. The Gospel is proclaimed to those who have never heard or to those who have heard and have resolutely rejected – in short, to those who are dead. And then suddenly some find themselves believing. Suddenly some find new life where an instant before there was nothing. Why? How? The wind of the Spirit blows, from where and to where we do not know; but, in its wake there is new life, new creation. We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father: these words of the Nicene Creed– hard fought and hard won by our fathers in the faith – acknowledge the Holy Spirit as the source of our new life in Christ.

If this initial blowing of the wind of the Spirit that calls forth faith within us – that kindles the spark of life – can be likened to conception, then baptism is certainly full birth in the Spirit. And the life that follows, the life in the Spirit, is like no life we’ve known or imagined before. Words fail. Analogies fall flat. The Trinity, beyond all time, exists as a community of Persons – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – each unique and yet of one essence. Love ceaselessly passes between them, and life: pure, abundant, eternal life. When the wind of the Spirit blows through us it catches us up into that love and life of the Trinity. On the night he was betrayed, in his last extended discourse to his disciples, Jesus revealed this mystery.

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

“I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you” (John 14:15-20, NRSV).

We speak of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, though the words scarce do justice to the reality. Through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit we are caught up into the life of the Trinity: Christ is in the Father and we are in Christ, and all this is through the Holy Spirit. Life in the Spirit is like no life we’ve known or imagined before.

When children are born they are also named, and that name is identity, seal, and pledge. Another generation was added to my family recently with the birth of my great-nephew. He was named in honor of his grandfather, my brother, William, and of our father – the baby’s great-grandfather. That name was placed like a seal upon him, an indelible mark of identity. From this time forth and forever he is marked with this name: it both establishes and creates his identity. It makes him part of an ongoing story. It entitles him. And it obligates him. He is sealed as a member of our family forever. This seal is more than just a name, more even than just an identity. It is a pledge, a promise, that his family makes to him: to love, to nurture, to provide, to protect, to educate, to equip. Through this seal his parents say to him, “Everything we have is yours; we pledge this as your inheritance.”

In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance towards redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory (Eph 1:11-14, NRSV).

The Holy Spirit is the seal of the newly baptized servant of God, an indelible mark of identity. The Rite of Holy Baptism in the Book of Common Prayer makes this explicit. The bishop or priest places a hand on head of the newly baptized, marking on the forehead the sign of the cross and saying,

[Name], you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever. Amen.

The Holy Spirit establishes and creates our identity, makes us part of an ongoing story, incorporates us into a family – a family of blood and water, the blood of Christ and the water of baptism – a family in which the old differences of race and gender and status no longer matter. In contemplating the riches of God’s love for us in making us his sons and daughters – his family – Paul falls to his knees in prayer and praise.

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge – that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God (Eph 3:14-19, NIV).

The Holy Spirit is the seal of our identity as members of God’s family and as members of one another. The Holy Spirit is the seal of God’s ownership of us. And the Holy Spirit is God’s present sign and pledge of our future full redemption.

Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come (2 Cor 1:21-22, NIV).

Before the recent mortgage scandals of sub-prime lending and balloon payments, earnest money and down payments were customary. An offer to purchase a house was accompanied by a check – usually one or two percent of the asking price – called earnest money; it expressed the buyer’s earnest intent to complete the transaction, a guarantee that the offer was real and would be honored fully. Likewise, at the time of purchase, a down payment of ten to twenty percent was given to the lending institution as a guarantee that all future payments would be made. Based upon these two “earnest payments” the buyer became a homeowner, though of course the full redemption of the home lay in the future. This is a modern take on Paul’s analogy. The Holy Spirit is the earnest money, the down payment, of our inheritance. The Holy Spirit is the present expression of God’s pledge to redeem us fully in the day of Christ’s appearing and to grant us the full inheritance that is ours as his children.

The seal of the Holy Spirit establishes our identity as Christ’s own, as the sons and daughters of God. The seal of the Holy Spirit is the earnest, the pledge of God, guaranteeing our future full redemption and inheritance. The seal of the Holy Spirit is also God’s stamp, his imprint upon us forming us in the image of Christ.

15 Then the Pharisees went and plotted how to trap Him by what He said. 16 They sent their disciples to Him, with the Herodians. "Teacher," they said, "we know that You are truthful and teach truthfully the way of God. You defer to no one, for You don't show partiality. 17 Tell us, therefore, what You think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not?"
18 But perceiving their malice, Jesus said, "Why are you testing Me, hypocrites? 19 Show Me the coin used for the tax." So they brought Him a denarius. 20 "Whose image and inscription is this?" He asked them.
21 "Caesar's," they said to Him.
Then He said to them, "Therefore, give back to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's" (Mt 22:15-21, HCSB).

Whose image is on the coin? was Jesus’ question. In Rome, each coin was made by hand. Seals were placed on the blank coin, front and back, and struck to imprint the desired images on it. What has been struck and formed and imprinted by the seal of Caesar belongs to Caesar. But not us. We have been struck and formed and imprinted by the seal of the Holy Spirit and we belong to God. Or better still, we are being struck and formed and imprinted by the seal of the Holy Spirit, for this re-imaging is an ongoing process of growth and transformation. We are conceived by the Spirit in faith, born of the Spirit in baptism, and we grow in the Spirit through sanctification.

Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit (Gal 5:16-25, NRSV).

This process of growth, of re-imaging through the Spirit, is both a mystical work of God and a tangible work of man. It is enabled and empowered by the Spirit, but it is implemented by man in cooperation with the Spirit. It is work. It is discipline.

So then, putting away all falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbours, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil. Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labour and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy. Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption (Eph 4:25-30, NRSV).

Paul gives more behavioral instruction – do this, don’t do that – but this enough for now. The Spirit works within us to make obedience and righteousness possible, but we must discipline ourselves to obey and strive toward righteousness, if we are to grow into the image of Christ.

I believe in the Holy Spirit we say in the Creed. Yet much more than this, we live in the Holy Spirit. We are conceived by the Spirit in faith, born of the Spirit in baptism, and we grow in the Spirit through sanctification. It is mystery, this life in the Spirit – life abundant and everlasting, life beyond our words and imagination. And yet it is also at hand and “ordinary”: kindness and faithfulness and generosity and obedience and love. It is not beyond our grasp, not for those of us who believe in the Holy Spirit. Amen.