About lunch time on Monday, I held my breath with the entire seminary community as a flash flood swept into Leibrock Village, the seminary’s student housing complex.
Cars floated through the parking lot and at least a foot of water lapped through the ground-floor apartments. Twelve families, one faculty member, and the housing office have been displaced.
In less than an hour, though, students and church members swarmed through the Village, rescuing books and personal photos, moving furniture, drying out carpets and soggy clothes. Donors came forward to pay for motels and food for displaced students, and the university’s maintenance crews cleared debris. That evening, I walked through the hallways, listening to students’ stories and praying with them.
Watching so many people respond so quickly in helpful ways reminded me of the importance of proclaiming the gospel through actions as well as through words—and that’s what our worship will focus on Sunday: proclaiming God’s love in word and deed.
I’ll preach on Luke 10:1-11, 16-20, which tells the story of Jesus sending out pairs of disciples to announce the good news, cast out demons, and create community. Our other lessons include 2 Kings 5:1-14, the story of Naaman’s healing, and Galatians 6:1-16, in which Paul urges us to bear each other’s burdens.
In addition to celebrating communion, we’ll sing “Lord, You Give the Great Commission,” “Blest Be the Tie That Binds” and a hymn of the congregation’s choice.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Prime-time prayers
Watching TV and movies can be a spiritual practice, said a speaker at the PC(USA) General Assembly, but it takes a discerning spirit to make it work.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Freedom to serve
Late last week, I stood in the sanctuary of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta singing the civil rights anthem “We Shall Overcome.”
It was an emotional moment for many in our group of pastoral theologians from around the world, which had traveled together to the church where Martin Luther King Jr. had been pastor.
But some in the group, myself included, couldn’t lift up our voices because of a strong awareness of the racial and social oppressions that still plague the church and the nation.
It would have been easy to let our experiences silence each other or to let shame and judgment have their way. Instead, later that day, we had a frank and honest conversation about our feelings and experiences.
In the end, we didn’t pretend to have healed the hurts of the world or of ourselves. But we did listen to each other speak honestly, ask for forgiveness, and affirm our desires to understand each other’s perspectives. Later that night we sang and danced together to the beat of African drums, grinning and laughing and clapping our hands in rhythm.
That, it seems to me, was a proper use of Christian freedom: living by the Spirit, guided by the Spirit, submitting to each other as a servant people. God was at work among us!
We’ll talk more about Christian freedom on Sunday, when we gather for worship and to hear a sermon on Galatians 5:1, 13-25, in which the apostle Paul writes about living in the Spirit rather than the flesh.
Our other lessons will include 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14, in which Elisha experiences the Spirit of God, and Luke 9:51-62, in which Jesus asks the disciples to free themselves from the things of this world in order to follow God.
We’ll sing “I Sing the Mighty Power of God,” “Eternal God, Whose Power Upholds,” and a hymn of the congregation’s choice.
Until then, God’s shalom to you and the whole earth—-and I hope to see you Sunday!
It was an emotional moment for many in our group of pastoral theologians from around the world, which had traveled together to the church where Martin Luther King Jr. had been pastor.
But some in the group, myself included, couldn’t lift up our voices because of a strong awareness of the racial and social oppressions that still plague the church and the nation.
It would have been easy to let our experiences silence each other or to let shame and judgment have their way. Instead, later that day, we had a frank and honest conversation about our feelings and experiences.
In the end, we didn’t pretend to have healed the hurts of the world or of ourselves. But we did listen to each other speak honestly, ask for forgiveness, and affirm our desires to understand each other’s perspectives. Later that night we sang and danced together to the beat of African drums, grinning and laughing and clapping our hands in rhythm.
That, it seems to me, was a proper use of Christian freedom: living by the Spirit, guided by the Spirit, submitting to each other as a servant people. God was at work among us!
We’ll talk more about Christian freedom on Sunday, when we gather for worship and to hear a sermon on Galatians 5:1, 13-25, in which the apostle Paul writes about living in the Spirit rather than the flesh.
Our other lessons will include 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14, in which Elisha experiences the Spirit of God, and Luke 9:51-62, in which Jesus asks the disciples to free themselves from the things of this world in order to follow God.
We’ll sing “I Sing the Mighty Power of God,” “Eternal God, Whose Power Upholds,” and a hymn of the congregation’s choice.
Until then, God’s shalom to you and the whole earth—-and I hope to see you Sunday!
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Shameless
A sermon on Luke 7:36-8:3:
Imagine you’ve invited the pastor for an intimate barbecue on your back patio.
You’ve got smoked chicken, grilled sausages, a big bowl of guacamole, 10 pounds of corn chips, cold beer, coke for the kids, and huge slabs of bloody beef just waiting to be slapped on the grill.
You’re sitting around the table, telling jokes, sharing news of the day, when your neighbor walks up.
Your neighbor. You know the one—the woman whose husband never seems to be around, the one with low-cut blouses and short shorts, the one who spends her time in dubious Internet chat rooms.
Now, you’ve asked her not to let herself in through the back gate. You never invite her to your cookouts, and you’ve tried to tell her that if you want her company, you’ll ask her over. But she never seems to listen. Invited or not, here she is.
Here she is, standing behind the preacher, kneading his shoulders and rubbing sunscreen on his neck, pouring him a glass of iced tea and kissing his cheek.
She’s embarrassing you. You don’t want the pastor to think she’s a friend or something.
But he just sits there smiling, as if what she’s doing is OK with him. And suddenly you’re angry: You can’t believe a man of God is behaving this way.
And then he says, “Hey—I’ve got a riddle for you. Ready?”
II.
That’s just the situation Simon the Pharisee has found himself in. He’s invited this Jesus, the teacher everyone’s talking about, to dinner at his house; he’s put out quite a spread; and here comes this scandalous “woman of the city,” walking right through the courtyard and up to the table, kissing the guest of honor’s feet and rubbing scented oil on his callused toes. Worse yet, she starts to cry, and her tears carve shiny tracks across his dusty feet, and she dries them with her hair.
This woman’s making a scene at Simon’s banquet. Her shameless behavior dishonors him and his guests. Not only that: She is unclean, a prostitute, and by touching Jesus she’s made him unclean too. Simon—a Pharisee, a member of the most righteous sect of Judaism, the ones who always get things right, who know the law backward and forward—Simon can’t believe Jesus would tolerate her touch.
“If he were a prophet,” Simon thinks, “he’d of known who and what kind of woman this is who’s touching him—that she’s a sinner.”
In one phrase, he judges them both.
III.
Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I sure do recognize Simon. Once I caught myself acting just like him at a funeral—a funeral! Instead of comforting the sobbing woman next to me, instead of being in prayer for the dead man’s family, instead of listening carefully and prayerfully to scripture, I was busy judging:
But Jesus--Jesus asks a riddle.
IV.
Riddles were common entertainment at New Testament era banquets, and I imagine Simon might have thought—maybe with relief—that Jesus was trying to shift the party’s attention from the woman lavishing attention on his feet. So maybe he readied himself for a good joke. But the joke is on him.
“A certain creditor had two debtors,” Jesus says. “One owed 500 denarii, and the other 50. When they couldn’t pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?”
And Simon hesitates. Where is Jesus heading with this? “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt,” Simon says.
“You have judged rightly.” But before the guests can raise a toast to Simon for getting the answer right, Jesus goes for the jugular.
“Do you see this woman?” he asks. “I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.”
Our friend Simon forgot the basics of Middle Eastern hospitality. He’s been so busy judging Jesus and this woman—thinking of himself as the pious and righteous one at the table—that he hasn’t noticed his own shortcomings. And now he’s doubly exposed: by the shameful display of this nameless woman and by his own lack of hospitality, which is a major cultural faux pas.
“Her sins, which were many, have been forgiven,” Jesus says. “Hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”
And he turns to the woman: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has restored you to wholeness; go in peace.”
And the story ends.
V.
So who is the hero of this story?
It’s easy to pick Jesus as the hero. After all, the point of the story is the different ways in which two religious men respond to a nameless, shameless prostitute, right? That is one way of making sense of this story.
But I wonder if maybe Luke intends the woman to be the hero here.
In the other canonical gospels--Matthew, Mark and John--this story is told just before Jesus dies, and it happens at the house of a leper, not a Pharisee. And the other gospels include several different characters--you remember Judas saying, “Why was this ointment not sold and the money given to the poor?” In those other gospels, the point of the story is that the woman is anointing Jesus to prepare him for his death.
But that’s not what Luke is up to here. He places the story earlier in the ministry of Jesus; the only other major characters are a Pharisee and a prostitute—the sinless and the sinful, in the popular mind of his time; and the point of the story isn’t death, or how to respond to a sinful woman, but the forgiveness we receive in Christ.
Might Luke be illustrating with this story how a forgiven sinner ought to respond to Jesus? If so, this nameless woman is the hero.
She knows how sinful she is. She knows how much grace Jesus can extend to her. And she responds with grateful and humble hospitality. Because she expects much, she receives much—and loves much.
But Simon . . . . Simon’s problem isn’t his conduct, but his attitude and his self understanding. He thinks of himself as pious and righteous—as any Pharisee would—and so he has no awareness of his need for forgiveness; he loves little because he expects so little of God’s love. And in doing so he excludes himself from grace.
Only the sinful prostitute receives the blessing: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
She loves much because she is forgiven much; she recognizes her need and therefore receives the grace so freely offered.
VI.
What if through this story Luke is saying that our capacity to love Jesus is related to our ability to recognize the depth of the actions, thoughts, self-understandings and attitudes that keep us separate from God?
What if Luke is saying that the way we show our love for Jesus is related to our ability to receive the forgiveness, grace and love he offers in such abundance?
Simon loved little because he could only receive little; he did not recognize the depth of his need.
The woman who knelt at Christ’s feet received much because she knew how much she needed and she was open to receiving it.
It’s been said that the brief version of the gospel can be found in the phrase: “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.”
That’s what this scripture passage is calling us to—repentance, recognition of our wounded sinfulness and brokenness, acknowledgment of how much we need to be forgiven. It’s only when we recognize the depth of our need that we understand the depth of grace.
God is ready to forgive you, to accept you, to wash you clean and send you out into the world with a heart that’s calm and empty of the anxiety that churns there all too often.
Can you accept that? Can you humble yourself enough to accept that Jesus wants to turn to you and say, “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has made you whole; go in peace”?
Or will you be like Simon, reclining at the table, sure of who you are, measuring others, and yourself against them, heart shut tight against the love that’s close enough to touch, the love that is a guest in your life this very moment? Can you accept the forgiveness of the Christ sitting across from you, holding out the bread of life, saying, “Take and eat. It’s broken for you”?
Friends, your wounds are healed; your sins are forgiven. You are saved in faith, restored to wholeness, made complete. Your ability to accept that, to live as if that is true, will shape the way you love yourself and those around you.
So repent—turn toward God, toward life, with a new mind, a higher mind, a mind that knows that anyone who is in Christ is a new creation: everything old has passed away; everything has become new.
Repent and believe the good news of the gospel: In Jesus Christ, we are forgiven. Alleluia! Amen.
Imagine you’ve invited the pastor for an intimate barbecue on your back patio.
You’ve got smoked chicken, grilled sausages, a big bowl of guacamole, 10 pounds of corn chips, cold beer, coke for the kids, and huge slabs of bloody beef just waiting to be slapped on the grill.
You’re sitting around the table, telling jokes, sharing news of the day, when your neighbor walks up.
Your neighbor. You know the one—the woman whose husband never seems to be around, the one with low-cut blouses and short shorts, the one who spends her time in dubious Internet chat rooms.
Now, you’ve asked her not to let herself in through the back gate. You never invite her to your cookouts, and you’ve tried to tell her that if you want her company, you’ll ask her over. But she never seems to listen. Invited or not, here she is.
Here she is, standing behind the preacher, kneading his shoulders and rubbing sunscreen on his neck, pouring him a glass of iced tea and kissing his cheek.
She’s embarrassing you. You don’t want the pastor to think she’s a friend or something.
But he just sits there smiling, as if what she’s doing is OK with him. And suddenly you’re angry: You can’t believe a man of God is behaving this way.
And then he says, “Hey—I’ve got a riddle for you. Ready?”
II.
That’s just the situation Simon the Pharisee has found himself in. He’s invited this Jesus, the teacher everyone’s talking about, to dinner at his house; he’s put out quite a spread; and here comes this scandalous “woman of the city,” walking right through the courtyard and up to the table, kissing the guest of honor’s feet and rubbing scented oil on his callused toes. Worse yet, she starts to cry, and her tears carve shiny tracks across his dusty feet, and she dries them with her hair.
This woman’s making a scene at Simon’s banquet. Her shameless behavior dishonors him and his guests. Not only that: She is unclean, a prostitute, and by touching Jesus she’s made him unclean too. Simon—a Pharisee, a member of the most righteous sect of Judaism, the ones who always get things right, who know the law backward and forward—Simon can’t believe Jesus would tolerate her touch.
“If he were a prophet,” Simon thinks, “he’d of known who and what kind of woman this is who’s touching him—that she’s a sinner.”
In one phrase, he judges them both.
III.
Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I sure do recognize Simon. Once I caught myself acting just like him at a funeral—a funeral! Instead of comforting the sobbing woman next to me, instead of being in prayer for the dead man’s family, instead of listening carefully and prayerfully to scripture, I was busy judging:
“They call this a worship space? There’s not even a cross. Looks more like a warehouse to me.”And my personal favorite:
“Man, I wish I could preach like that guy. He’s good. Makes that other pastor sound like Elmer Fudd.”
“I can’t believe she thought a flowered, scarlet dress was appropriate for a tragic funeral like this.”Now I’m confessing these thoughts to you not to ask forgiveness or to brag about what a sinner I am, but to say: If this nameless woman had shown up at my banquet, I would have acted just like Simon.
But Jesus--Jesus asks a riddle.
IV.
Riddles were common entertainment at New Testament era banquets, and I imagine Simon might have thought—maybe with relief—that Jesus was trying to shift the party’s attention from the woman lavishing attention on his feet. So maybe he readied himself for a good joke. But the joke is on him.
“A certain creditor had two debtors,” Jesus says. “One owed 500 denarii, and the other 50. When they couldn’t pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?”
And Simon hesitates. Where is Jesus heading with this? “I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt,” Simon says.
“You have judged rightly.” But before the guests can raise a toast to Simon for getting the answer right, Jesus goes for the jugular.
“Do you see this woman?” he asks. “I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.”
Our friend Simon forgot the basics of Middle Eastern hospitality. He’s been so busy judging Jesus and this woman—thinking of himself as the pious and righteous one at the table—that he hasn’t noticed his own shortcomings. And now he’s doubly exposed: by the shameful display of this nameless woman and by his own lack of hospitality, which is a major cultural faux pas.
“Her sins, which were many, have been forgiven,” Jesus says. “Hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”
And he turns to the woman: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has restored you to wholeness; go in peace.”
And the story ends.
V.
So who is the hero of this story?
It’s easy to pick Jesus as the hero. After all, the point of the story is the different ways in which two religious men respond to a nameless, shameless prostitute, right? That is one way of making sense of this story.
But I wonder if maybe Luke intends the woman to be the hero here.
In the other canonical gospels--Matthew, Mark and John--this story is told just before Jesus dies, and it happens at the house of a leper, not a Pharisee. And the other gospels include several different characters--you remember Judas saying, “Why was this ointment not sold and the money given to the poor?” In those other gospels, the point of the story is that the woman is anointing Jesus to prepare him for his death.
But that’s not what Luke is up to here. He places the story earlier in the ministry of Jesus; the only other major characters are a Pharisee and a prostitute—the sinless and the sinful, in the popular mind of his time; and the point of the story isn’t death, or how to respond to a sinful woman, but the forgiveness we receive in Christ.
Might Luke be illustrating with this story how a forgiven sinner ought to respond to Jesus? If so, this nameless woman is the hero.
She knows how sinful she is. She knows how much grace Jesus can extend to her. And she responds with grateful and humble hospitality. Because she expects much, she receives much—and loves much.
But Simon . . . . Simon’s problem isn’t his conduct, but his attitude and his self understanding. He thinks of himself as pious and righteous—as any Pharisee would—and so he has no awareness of his need for forgiveness; he loves little because he expects so little of God’s love. And in doing so he excludes himself from grace.
Only the sinful prostitute receives the blessing: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”
She loves much because she is forgiven much; she recognizes her need and therefore receives the grace so freely offered.
VI.
What if through this story Luke is saying that our capacity to love Jesus is related to our ability to recognize the depth of the actions, thoughts, self-understandings and attitudes that keep us separate from God?
What if Luke is saying that the way we show our love for Jesus is related to our ability to receive the forgiveness, grace and love he offers in such abundance?
Simon loved little because he could only receive little; he did not recognize the depth of his need.
The woman who knelt at Christ’s feet received much because she knew how much she needed and she was open to receiving it.
It’s been said that the brief version of the gospel can be found in the phrase: “Repent, for the kingdom of God is at hand.”
That’s what this scripture passage is calling us to—repentance, recognition of our wounded sinfulness and brokenness, acknowledgment of how much we need to be forgiven. It’s only when we recognize the depth of our need that we understand the depth of grace.
God is ready to forgive you, to accept you, to wash you clean and send you out into the world with a heart that’s calm and empty of the anxiety that churns there all too often.
Can you accept that? Can you humble yourself enough to accept that Jesus wants to turn to you and say, “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has made you whole; go in peace”?
Or will you be like Simon, reclining at the table, sure of who you are, measuring others, and yourself against them, heart shut tight against the love that’s close enough to touch, the love that is a guest in your life this very moment? Can you accept the forgiveness of the Christ sitting across from you, holding out the bread of life, saying, “Take and eat. It’s broken for you”?
Friends, your wounds are healed; your sins are forgiven. You are saved in faith, restored to wholeness, made complete. Your ability to accept that, to live as if that is true, will shape the way you love yourself and those around you.
So repent—turn toward God, toward life, with a new mind, a higher mind, a mind that knows that anyone who is in Christ is a new creation: everything old has passed away; everything has become new.
Repent and believe the good news of the gospel: In Jesus Christ, we are forgiven. Alleluia! Amen.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Subversive sayings
In a world that wants to reject creeds ("I'm spiritual, but not religious"), Luke Timothy Johnson sees Christian creeds as "subversive documents" that open possibilities rather than shutting down debate.
Johnson's point, I would argue, is precisely why Presbyterians include a creed in worship each Sunday and why a collection of creeds makes up the first part of our church constitution.
Johnson's point, I would argue, is precisely why Presbyterians include a creed in worship each Sunday and why a collection of creeds makes up the first part of our church constitution.
Come and get it!
With all this rain, I feel like I ought to preach about Noah and the Ark on Sunday!
Wet or dry, though, we're having a community barbeque dinner on Saturday, June 12, at the church. About 45 people from the community and the church have said they are coming, and we hope others will just “drop by.”
So come "taste and see" with us. We’ll start serving food at noon; entertainment (music, puppets, clowns, a piñata, and games) will occur all afternoon; and about 3p we’ll close by singing hymns together in the sanctuary.
If you know people who’d like to attend, please invite them; the serving line will be open from noon to 3p.
On Sunday we’ll gather in worship to celebrate God’s great hospitality to the people of the world. I’ll preach on the story of the woman who washes Jesus’ feet (Luke 7:35-8:3). As you prepare for worship, reflect on who’s the hero of that story--is it Jesus, the woman, or Simon?
Other scripture readings Sunday include 1 Kings 21:1-10, 15-21a, about the faithfulness of Naboth when asked to give up his land, and Galatians 2:15-21, in which Paul speaks of the power of vulnerable love. We’ll sing “O for A Thousand Tongues to Sing,” “Just As I Am, Without One Plea,” and a hymn chosen by the congregation.
Wet or dry, though, we're having a community barbeque dinner on Saturday, June 12, at the church. About 45 people from the community and the church have said they are coming, and we hope others will just “drop by.”
So come "taste and see" with us. We’ll start serving food at noon; entertainment (music, puppets, clowns, a piñata, and games) will occur all afternoon; and about 3p we’ll close by singing hymns together in the sanctuary.
If you know people who’d like to attend, please invite them; the serving line will be open from noon to 3p.
On Sunday we’ll gather in worship to celebrate God’s great hospitality to the people of the world. I’ll preach on the story of the woman who washes Jesus’ feet (Luke 7:35-8:3). As you prepare for worship, reflect on who’s the hero of that story--is it Jesus, the woman, or Simon?
Other scripture readings Sunday include 1 Kings 21:1-10, 15-21a, about the faithfulness of Naboth when asked to give up his land, and Galatians 2:15-21, in which Paul speaks of the power of vulnerable love. We’ll sing “O for A Thousand Tongues to Sing,” “Just As I Am, Without One Plea,” and a hymn chosen by the congregation.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
A God who dances
This is a sermon based on John 16:12-15; the sermon started with the congregation looking at the painting "Circle Dance" by Ann Altman (you can see it here), naming what those gathered for worship saw in the painting:
The things the congregation noticed about the painting also evoke an ancient understanding of the Trinity as a community of persons “dancing around” together.
American Christians tend to be more familiar with the economic Trinity—-from the Greek word oikos, referring to a system of household management in which each person has a particular function to make the whole work as efficiently as possible; oikos is related to English words economy and economics.
Because we’re more familiar with the economic image of the Trinity, and because of our modernist culture’s emphasis on hierarchy and organization, many of us tend to think about the Holy Trinity as a sort of divine organizational chart or family tree:
[Can’t you just hear the “babysitter” Spirit scolding: “You kids! You might think it’s funny now, but just wait until the Second Coming!”]
II.
But thinking about the Three-in-One God as a sort of “holy organizational chart” has become problematic in our postmodern world, where people are rightly suspicious of top-down hierarchies and power structures that impose the wishes of one person or one class or one group on everyone.
Thinking about the Trinity as a group of people dancing around together--the image evoked by the painting "Circle Dance"-—is an ancient understanding inherent to the reading from John.
Theologians call this understanding “the social Trinity.” One way of envisioning it is as a circle of equals, holding hands and dancing. In Greek, in fact, this vision is called the perichoresis of God—“peri” like “perimeter,” meaning “around,” and “choresis” like “choreography,” meaning “dancing.”
So the social Trinity is literally a vision of “the dancing of God,” three persons in one circle, circling and weaving a pattern of love and power, none of them at the top or center or bottom, but forever spinning in an equally shared glory.
It is this “dancing around,” God as a fellowship of equals, that keeps the word of Jesus alive for us today, able to speak to us and to our lives in fresh ways through the presence of the Holy Spirit.
III.
In the passage we read from the gospel of John, Jesus is speaking to his disciples just before his death. They don’t understand that he will be leaving them, and Jesus knows there is much they cannot understand until they experience his death and resurrection: “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.”
He knows their future will be frightening and uncertain—that without his presence, the sheep will scatter and risk losing sight of the truths he has taught them.
John and his community, late in the first century, faced a similar problem: For them, Jesus provides access to God in ways never before possible; he shares in God’s character and identity—reveals to them the truth of who God is. But those people who had actually known Jesus were dying, breaking the direct link those Christians had to Jesus.
So if the revelation of who God is, is lodged in Jesus—a living, breathing human—what happens when Jesus and the people who knew him are gone? Was the revelation of God seen through Jesus limited to one particular moment in history, or was it valid for the future?
We’ve got similar concerns, sometimes. As our lives careen ahead, things happening left and right, kids growing up too fast, our bodies starting to sag, our hair falling out, we forget to look at it all from the vantage point of what Jesus taught. After all, his words were spoken a long time ago. They were valid revelation 2000 years ago. But what can the bible say about the kind of uncertainties that frighten us today?
We worry about our kids and grandkids going off to college or to make their fortune in the big city. Will they make the right decisions? Will they find a job that pays a living wage? Will they drink and drive?
We worry about our parents. Is that forgetfulness we’ve noticed something benign or is it the beginning of Alzheimer’s? How will I take care of them when they can’t take care of themselves?
We worry about ourselves. Am I really committed enough to this marriage to stay through the tough times? Retirement is so close—what if the stock market does more damage to my IRA? Will my cell phone give me a brain tumor? How come God feels so far away when we used to be so close?
IV.
In the gospel reading from John, the reassurance that Jesus offers to the disciples is the “Spirit of truth” who will guide them into all truth.
This is a Spirit who plays a teaching role, leading the way, guiding the community of Christians into the life-giving revelation of God in Jesus. “The Spirit will not speak on its own,” Jesus promises, “but will speak whatever it hears.”
This is a Spirit in continuity with Jesus—speaking what Jesus spoke, just as Jesus spoke the words of the Creator God.
“The Spirit,” Jesus says, “will declare to you the things that are to come.” This is not a Spirit of prophecy, but a Spirit of proclamation, declaring the Word of God in the new and changing circumstances of the disciples’ lives—a Spirit that leaves the future of all believers open to fresh proclamations of Jesus’ words.
“The Spirit will glorify me,” Jesus says. This is a Spirit who makes visible the identity of Jesus and therefore of God.
“All that the Father has is mine,” Jesus says. “For this reason I said that the Spirit will take what is mine and declare it to you.” This is a Spirit who participates in the fullness of Jesus’ revelation of God and declares that fullness to succeeding generations.
This is not a top-down, hierarchical arrangement; the Spirit is not a “babysitter” sent to hold a place until Jesus returns. Jesus and the Spirit are one God with the deity Jesus called “abba.” For John, the presence of the Spirit is not the presence of particular gifts, as it is for the Apostle Paul, and it is not a Spirit who is actively directing the community as in the book of Acts. Rather, for John the Spirit is the continuing presence of Jesus, a teacher and witness to the gospel, through whom the presence of God is known.
Jesus and the Spirit and God are equal—-and they are one in a dynamic, flowing relationship. For that reason, we can trust the way the Spirit intercedes in our lives; the Spirit “makes it possible for all believers to share in the good news of the incarnation, because the [Spirit] makes Jesus present to believers, even though Jesus is now physically absent” [Gail O’Day]
V.
Even in his absence, Jesus is reliable and loving; he has not ignored our future but abides with us through the presence of the Spirit. There are no temporal or spatial limits on his love.
So how do we experience the abiding love of Jesus through the Holy Spirit?
First, we recognize that the Holy Spirit was not sent to individuals, but to the community as a whole. Just as God can be understood as a community of persons, dancing around together, the Spirit enlivens the church as a community of persons. The presence of the Spirit is not a subjective, individual experience of God, but a presence that keeps the community of believers that is the church grounded in Jesus’ revelation of God.
Second, we recognize that the God we see through Jesus is found in scripture. As we read the bible, it is the Holy Spirit that leads us into fresh encounters with the words of Jesus at times of particular need—it is the Spirit that interprets the ministry of Jesus to keep its offer of God and God’s love alive in our lives today.
That is why it is so important to soak ourselves in scripture—-to read from the bible every day, even if it is only a little bit. We need to put our stories, the stories of our lives, into conversation with the story of Jesus. When we do, the Holy Spirit will make those ancient words relevant to our contemporary experiences. The Spirit doesn’t bring new illumination, new revelation, but allows Jesus’ words to continue to be effective in our lives.
This happens because scripture—-in the words of St. Ignatius of Loyola—-is like a searchlight, playing over our lives and highlighting different parts of our inner landscapes at different times. I experienced it myself this week—-I logged on to my favorite Internet prayer site and slowly read the words of Jesus aloud, and as I did I understood the events of my day differently. The words of the gospel lit up a dark corner of my soul and helped me understand how God was offering comfort in a specific situation.
It is the Holy Spirit that makes the Word of God fresh so it applies to our lives in new ways—ways we have not anticipated. Just as the disciples in John could not yet carry what Jesus had to teach them, because they could not understand until they experienced the crucifixion and resurrection, there are things God has to say to us that we cannot bear until we experience particular moments in our lives. Those understandings are opened to us through the grace and presence of the Holy Spirit, whose work is the work of God in Christ.
VI.
The social Trinity—-that vision of an undivided God as a dance of three equal partners—-has been called “a family of love” by Irish Jesuit Frank Doyle. The Trinity is a family that invites us in to be a part of its daily life. We are constantly and consistently invited to join the dance, to enter into a relationship with this God through dialogue with scripture, led and taught by the Holy Spirit, who helps us understand the words and presence of Jesus Christ which reveal the character and identity of God.
May we listen carefully to the words spoken to us as we are able to bear them, and may we never decline the invitation to dance. Amen.
people of all colors holding hands and dancing
the mathematical sign for "infinity" formed by the ribbon held by the dancers
the sun on the horizon, which the dancers are looking at
the festive air of the community at play
The things the congregation noticed about the painting also evoke an ancient understanding of the Trinity as a community of persons “dancing around” together.
American Christians tend to be more familiar with the economic Trinity—-from the Greek word oikos, referring to a system of household management in which each person has a particular function to make the whole work as efficiently as possible; oikos is related to English words economy and economics.
Because we’re more familiar with the economic image of the Trinity, and because of our modernist culture’s emphasis on hierarchy and organization, many of us tend to think about the Holy Trinity as a sort of divine organizational chart or family tree:
God at the head, the family patriarch;
Jesus as middle management, only person in family Dad will listen to;
Holy Spirit as sort of divine babysitter watching kids while parents out for a millennium or two.
[Can’t you just hear the “babysitter” Spirit scolding: “You kids! You might think it’s funny now, but just wait until the Second Coming!”]
II.
But thinking about the Three-in-One God as a sort of “holy organizational chart” has become problematic in our postmodern world, where people are rightly suspicious of top-down hierarchies and power structures that impose the wishes of one person or one class or one group on everyone.
Thinking about the Trinity as a group of people dancing around together--the image evoked by the painting "Circle Dance"-—is an ancient understanding inherent to the reading from John.
Theologians call this understanding “the social Trinity.” One way of envisioning it is as a circle of equals, holding hands and dancing. In Greek, in fact, this vision is called the perichoresis of God—“peri” like “perimeter,” meaning “around,” and “choresis” like “choreography,” meaning “dancing.”
So the social Trinity is literally a vision of “the dancing of God,” three persons in one circle, circling and weaving a pattern of love and power, none of them at the top or center or bottom, but forever spinning in an equally shared glory.
It is this “dancing around,” God as a fellowship of equals, that keeps the word of Jesus alive for us today, able to speak to us and to our lives in fresh ways through the presence of the Holy Spirit.
III.
In the passage we read from the gospel of John, Jesus is speaking to his disciples just before his death. They don’t understand that he will be leaving them, and Jesus knows there is much they cannot understand until they experience his death and resurrection: “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.”
He knows their future will be frightening and uncertain—that without his presence, the sheep will scatter and risk losing sight of the truths he has taught them.
John and his community, late in the first century, faced a similar problem: For them, Jesus provides access to God in ways never before possible; he shares in God’s character and identity—reveals to them the truth of who God is. But those people who had actually known Jesus were dying, breaking the direct link those Christians had to Jesus.
So if the revelation of who God is, is lodged in Jesus—a living, breathing human—what happens when Jesus and the people who knew him are gone? Was the revelation of God seen through Jesus limited to one particular moment in history, or was it valid for the future?
We’ve got similar concerns, sometimes. As our lives careen ahead, things happening left and right, kids growing up too fast, our bodies starting to sag, our hair falling out, we forget to look at it all from the vantage point of what Jesus taught. After all, his words were spoken a long time ago. They were valid revelation 2000 years ago. But what can the bible say about the kind of uncertainties that frighten us today?
We worry about our kids and grandkids going off to college or to make their fortune in the big city. Will they make the right decisions? Will they find a job that pays a living wage? Will they drink and drive?
We worry about our parents. Is that forgetfulness we’ve noticed something benign or is it the beginning of Alzheimer’s? How will I take care of them when they can’t take care of themselves?
We worry about ourselves. Am I really committed enough to this marriage to stay through the tough times? Retirement is so close—what if the stock market does more damage to my IRA? Will my cell phone give me a brain tumor? How come God feels so far away when we used to be so close?
IV.
In the gospel reading from John, the reassurance that Jesus offers to the disciples is the “Spirit of truth” who will guide them into all truth.
This is a Spirit who plays a teaching role, leading the way, guiding the community of Christians into the life-giving revelation of God in Jesus. “The Spirit will not speak on its own,” Jesus promises, “but will speak whatever it hears.”
This is a Spirit in continuity with Jesus—speaking what Jesus spoke, just as Jesus spoke the words of the Creator God.
“The Spirit,” Jesus says, “will declare to you the things that are to come.” This is not a Spirit of prophecy, but a Spirit of proclamation, declaring the Word of God in the new and changing circumstances of the disciples’ lives—a Spirit that leaves the future of all believers open to fresh proclamations of Jesus’ words.
“The Spirit will glorify me,” Jesus says. This is a Spirit who makes visible the identity of Jesus and therefore of God.
“All that the Father has is mine,” Jesus says. “For this reason I said that the Spirit will take what is mine and declare it to you.” This is a Spirit who participates in the fullness of Jesus’ revelation of God and declares that fullness to succeeding generations.
This is not a top-down, hierarchical arrangement; the Spirit is not a “babysitter” sent to hold a place until Jesus returns. Jesus and the Spirit are one God with the deity Jesus called “abba.” For John, the presence of the Spirit is not the presence of particular gifts, as it is for the Apostle Paul, and it is not a Spirit who is actively directing the community as in the book of Acts. Rather, for John the Spirit is the continuing presence of Jesus, a teacher and witness to the gospel, through whom the presence of God is known.
Jesus and the Spirit and God are equal—-and they are one in a dynamic, flowing relationship. For that reason, we can trust the way the Spirit intercedes in our lives; the Spirit “makes it possible for all believers to share in the good news of the incarnation, because the [Spirit] makes Jesus present to believers, even though Jesus is now physically absent” [Gail O’Day]
V.
Even in his absence, Jesus is reliable and loving; he has not ignored our future but abides with us through the presence of the Spirit. There are no temporal or spatial limits on his love.
So how do we experience the abiding love of Jesus through the Holy Spirit?
First, we recognize that the Holy Spirit was not sent to individuals, but to the community as a whole. Just as God can be understood as a community of persons, dancing around together, the Spirit enlivens the church as a community of persons. The presence of the Spirit is not a subjective, individual experience of God, but a presence that keeps the community of believers that is the church grounded in Jesus’ revelation of God.
Second, we recognize that the God we see through Jesus is found in scripture. As we read the bible, it is the Holy Spirit that leads us into fresh encounters with the words of Jesus at times of particular need—it is the Spirit that interprets the ministry of Jesus to keep its offer of God and God’s love alive in our lives today.
That is why it is so important to soak ourselves in scripture—-to read from the bible every day, even if it is only a little bit. We need to put our stories, the stories of our lives, into conversation with the story of Jesus. When we do, the Holy Spirit will make those ancient words relevant to our contemporary experiences. The Spirit doesn’t bring new illumination, new revelation, but allows Jesus’ words to continue to be effective in our lives.
This happens because scripture—-in the words of St. Ignatius of Loyola—-is like a searchlight, playing over our lives and highlighting different parts of our inner landscapes at different times. I experienced it myself this week—-I logged on to my favorite Internet prayer site and slowly read the words of Jesus aloud, and as I did I understood the events of my day differently. The words of the gospel lit up a dark corner of my soul and helped me understand how God was offering comfort in a specific situation.
It is the Holy Spirit that makes the Word of God fresh so it applies to our lives in new ways—ways we have not anticipated. Just as the disciples in John could not yet carry what Jesus had to teach them, because they could not understand until they experienced the crucifixion and resurrection, there are things God has to say to us that we cannot bear until we experience particular moments in our lives. Those understandings are opened to us through the grace and presence of the Holy Spirit, whose work is the work of God in Christ.
VI.
The social Trinity—-that vision of an undivided God as a dance of three equal partners—-has been called “a family of love” by Irish Jesuit Frank Doyle. The Trinity is a family that invites us in to be a part of its daily life. We are constantly and consistently invited to join the dance, to enter into a relationship with this God through dialogue with scripture, led and taught by the Holy Spirit, who helps us understand the words and presence of Jesus Christ which reveal the character and identity of God.
May we listen carefully to the words spoken to us as we are able to bear them, and may we never decline the invitation to dance. Amen.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
The mysteries of creation
As thunderstorms blasted Fort Worth last night, I opened the door so my 2-year-old son could see the hail.
He wanted to pick up a hailstone, so we stepped out onto the stairs--just as the wind ripped a huge pecan limb from the tree that shades our house, slamming it against the roof and then against the porch.
It landed right on the stairs where we had been standing a second before.
Somehow, I had scooped my son into my arms and spun back into the house without even knowing what was happening. The cracking noise as the limb came down must have sent my automatic nervous system into action, saving both of us.
“That was scary!” I said, heart pounding. But my son just smiled. “No, daddy,” he said. “I not scared. I happy!”
How often does God snatch us away from danger that we don’t even recognize, while we just grin and feel excited?
How often do we glimpse how wonderfully and fearfully made we are are? We’re so artfully put together that the sound of cracking wood can send our bodies into action faster than our minds can comprehend what’s happening.
We’ll celebrate the wonders of God’s creation and protective presence in worship this Trinity Sunday--the day in the church year when we ponder once again the mystery of God as Three-in-One.
During worship, God's grace will come to us through the bread and wine of the sacrament of communion, and I’ll use a painting titled “Circle Dance” by Ann Altman to help me preach from John 16:12-15.
Other scripture lessons will include Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31, in which woman Wisdom takes delight in God’s creation, and Romans 5:1-5, in which Paul talks about the saving grace of Christ. We’ll sing “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!” and “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise,” and “Blest Be the Tie that Binds.”
WORSHIP AT AUGUST CENTER: We’ll gather for prayer, singing, and the Lord’s Supper at 2p Sunday, June 6, at the August Healthcare Center on the west side of town. Come join us for this short service of worship with residents.
He wanted to pick up a hailstone, so we stepped out onto the stairs--just as the wind ripped a huge pecan limb from the tree that shades our house, slamming it against the roof and then against the porch.
It landed right on the stairs where we had been standing a second before.
Somehow, I had scooped my son into my arms and spun back into the house without even knowing what was happening. The cracking noise as the limb came down must have sent my automatic nervous system into action, saving both of us.
“That was scary!” I said, heart pounding. But my son just smiled. “No, daddy,” he said. “I not scared. I happy!”
How often does God snatch us away from danger that we don’t even recognize, while we just grin and feel excited?
How often do we glimpse how wonderfully and fearfully made we are are? We’re so artfully put together that the sound of cracking wood can send our bodies into action faster than our minds can comprehend what’s happening.
We’ll celebrate the wonders of God’s creation and protective presence in worship this Trinity Sunday--the day in the church year when we ponder once again the mystery of God as Three-in-One.
During worship, God's grace will come to us through the bread and wine of the sacrament of communion, and I’ll use a painting titled “Circle Dance” by Ann Altman to help me preach from John 16:12-15.
Other scripture lessons will include Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31, in which woman Wisdom takes delight in God’s creation, and Romans 5:1-5, in which Paul talks about the saving grace of Christ. We’ll sing “Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!” and “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise,” and “Blest Be the Tie that Binds.”
WORSHIP AT AUGUST CENTER: We’ll gather for prayer, singing, and the Lord’s Supper at 2p Sunday, June 6, at the August Healthcare Center on the west side of town. Come join us for this short service of worship with residents.
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