Holy Cross Faith Memorial Episcopal Church
November 18, 2017 Jason, take a look around this room at the people who join you here today. They are here because they care about you, they care about this parish, they care about the ministry to which God invites every one of us, and many have participated in forming you into the person and priest you are and will be in this place and beyond. And because we celebrate you, we also celebrate them, because this ordination liturgy is not only about you, but a celebration of the whole Church. One of the reasons we call you out from among the people to receive the laying on of hands of the bishop and be ordained a priest, is so that you can be an icon, a window, to remind all the people of God of their own priestly ministry given and received in baptism. That is, all of us are to be conduits of the holy, all of us are to be outward and visible signs of the grandeur and beauty of God for the sake of the world. Perhaps the call of the prophet Isaiah, way back around 742 B.C., can inform what is unfolding here at Holy Cross Faith Memorial today. Isaiah was facing the domination of Assyria and its plan for world power. In the face of such a threat he attempted to proclaim a vision that would lead the people of Judah to a singular hope in God in the midst of troubling and violent times. Specifically, he sought to address the power struggle of the nations as, get this, Syria and Israel invade Judah to try and force them into a coalition against Assyria. Some things just don’t change. So let’s listen again a moment to this call on Isaiah’s life: “Above God stood the seraphim; each had six wings; with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts, the whole earth is full of God’s glory.” Faces, feet and flying – what can this teach us today about the ministries to which we are called, and specifically, your call as a priest? Faces, here covered by wings, out of reverence, averting their eyes to avoid looking at God directly, for there was to be found a holiness, an otherness, so magnificent they could not bear the sight. Here, Isaiah is granted a vision of that holiness, so much so that he declared God holy three times for emphasis – holy, holy, holy means “majorly” holy. God is the Holy One, yet God’s people are holy as well as we see God’s mark on us all as we are made in God’s image. Our holiness is derived from the holiness of God. Your priesthood Jason is to continually remind God’s people of their inherent worth, their holiness in Christ. One of the great dangers of ordained ministry is to get so caught up in the tasks of priestly life that we become technicians of the sacred rather than standing as windows through which we are invited to gaze upon the holiness of God and everything God has created. You are to be consistently proclaiming a vision of God that is ever expanding. One of the great calls of priesthood is to assist God’s people to uncover their eyes and discover their own holiness. Doing so we can begin to confront the fear that does not want to see the beauty of that presence in us all, especially those most different from us. Your priesthood is to call forth the priesthood of every human being to join in a deeper conversation with a holy God and each other. Isaiah’s contemporaries did not like his teaching. It was unpopular, seen as irreverent, even seditious. Don’t be afraid to walk to that edge even as did Isaiah. Now feet. This can be sensitive territory for we know that “feet,” in this image from Isaiah, is a euphemism for “sexual parts.” Sexuality is a powerful, wonderful and yes mysterious part of being human. God knows, the Church has not always done a very good job in this arena of human experience. Yet, classically, we understand this as the seat of desire, which leads me to St. John of the Cross. One of his central themes, as he wrote in the late 1500’s, is the transformation of desire. His point is that all of our desire, at the root, is a desire for God. Your priesthood is to be grounded in that passion and directed toward the Holy One who will not let us go. The Isaiah narrative is filled with energy and excitement. It calls us to that place where all of our passion, including the glorious passions and desires we experience in and through one another in these human bodies, are understood as gift and given over to God so that all of us can fall deeply in love with God and God’s vision for all the creation. Your call and ours is a call for fidelity and a call for radical obedience, the way of the Cross. And flying? May we be given wings to go wherever it is we are called. It was the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard who said that Christians are meant to fly, but too often we act as if our wings have been clipped and thus we remain penned in and diminished in God’s intent for us. In Isaiah’s image, the wings enabled the seraphim to deliver the coal of cleansing and offer purification and forgiveness to a world too often ridden with guilt, fear and confusion, hell-bent on its own destruction. When my daughter was a little girl I was driving her to pre-school and NPR was on the radio describing troubled places in the world. Apparently she was listening as she said to me, “Daddy, are the people in the war just having a bad dream?” This could have happened yesterday as we continue to struggle with world events. Her question took my breath away as I witnessed her sweet innocence slipping away. After recovering I said, “No Emily, it is all real, and a lot of people are being hurt, but you are safe with me.” Jason, you are to embody for us a priesthood where you name clearly what you see, declare that brokenness and injustice are all real, dare to show us where it raises its ugly head, and then proclaim God’s hope for perfect justice, God’s offense at the oppression of the weak, and where we are to boldly join you in living out in our actions the transformation God is calling forth. The kind of discipleship we are called to offer is never at the expense of our neighbor. God calls us to serve our neighbor and offer radical welcome. Dare to name it when you see it. Tell the truth in Christ. God is not pleased, Isaiah would tell us, if this rite of worship today does not also usher in work for righteousness and peace. Have the courage to use your wings and fly wherever God calls you to go and may we have the faith and courage to join you, even if you or we are seen as seditious, irreverent and unpopular just as it was so for Isaiah. (Invite Jason to stand) One more time Jason, look around. Call us through your priesthood to our priesthood. Give us a vision of our holiness in God’s loving presence. Call us to be on fire with a passionate love for God and to know of God’s passionate love for us. Call us to be honest and truthful for all that distracts us from God’s vision for us as tireless workers for justice and peace. And may I also say today, thank you, thank you for being you and for offering yourself to God’s Church and to us for this work. Bishop Skip November 11, 2017
Isaiah 11:1-9; I Corinthians 12:12-27; Matthew 26:26-30 We know the Wisdom of the Body when we see it. In Montana a Jewish family placed a menorah in their window only to come home and find its exterior and their yard vandalized and trashed. The next morning word got out, and by that evening all the people in that community, most of whom were not Jewish, had put a menorah in their own windows. The violence of that neighborhood ended because of a connective unification that stopped it. It arises on behalf of a larger purpose and is not based entirely on the knowledge of one person. This makes wisdom collective even as individuals act within its expression. This is my body (point to self). This is my body (point to the altar). This is my body (gesture to the assembled people). The Wisdom of the Body comes from and leads to all of these locations of the individual and of the assembly, even from outside of ourselves as we take into our bodies sacramental outward and visible signs of the Christ among us and in us all. We ingest whom we already are and are created to be individually and corporately, the Body of Christ. I have been among you one year and three months, present in every worshiping community at least once and some now twice or more. In this relatively short time I have discovered that the wisdom of this body is broad and it is deep. I remain grateful to God to be ministering with such a blessed group of faithful people. It brings me joy. As I survey the lay of the land of our diocese, I note that the Visioning Committee is close to the conclusion of its work. It will report before long to Diocesan Council and then decisions will need to be made as to how it is shared more widely for consideration as well as next steps to engage strategic initiatives in support of the vision and its implementation. The Diocesan Council and other leadership will be engaging in a strategic communication plan in order to more broadly and effectively tell our story as a diocese of the Episcopal Church, who we want to be and become, using all the best tools at our disposal technologically, in the press and in social media, as instruments of the Good News. As you know, we also are in the midst of mediation conversations with the disassociated diocese regarding diocesan and parish property, even as we wait for the State Supreme Court to respond to the motions of rehearing and recusal brought by the other side. Stay tuned. In all the above much is happening, much is unfinished and yet to be known. It is, at the same time, very rich and full of possibility. So what do we do along the way? When Jesus shared a Passover supper with his friends and said, “this is my body,” what did he create? A community! A cosmological moment came to fruition during that Last Meal before his death where all time, past and future, was made present. God’s desire for us to enter into a new relationship with one another and the created order was again being revealed. We call it the Kingdom, or Reign, of God. Not only is it present now in glimpses, it is also an anticipation of a continually unfolding reality. As with all Body Wisdom, new perspectives are invited and it evokes higher aspirations. Often its emergence is grounded in a different way of listening and brings attention to the immediacy of the moment. We, as in all of humankind, have been rescued by Jesus from all that destroys God’s creation. No longer constrained by death, we are now being made into a new creation as we are defined as Christ’s own forever. Jesus’ life has been “poured out” in the hope of reconciliation, thereby creating a community with new possibilities for life. It is this new community for which we have been created, a community that brings life to the world and one another. It has not been created primarily to gather in incessant meetings to repair roofs and replace boilers. We repeat the covenantal meal of relationship on a regular basis in order that we will always remember who we are, to whom we belong, and who God calls us to be. Then notice what happens in the Gospel. It is really quite stunning. After being identified with Jesus’ broken and wounded body, yes, for God’s Wisdom has become a body of real flesh and blood, before going out from the meal they sing a hymn, probably the Hallel Psalms 115-118. Do you get it? Vocalizing from those amazing folds within the larynx, they sing a new relationship into being and it takes every voice to make it so. The purpose is the praise of God as they sing themselves into unity! Then they go out, for from now on, their and our sole job is bringing about on earth the Kingdom of Heaven in its fullness – God’s vision of perfect justice and peace, and it starts in here (pointing to my heart). So what of this new community we have been created to be? St. Paul gives us a compelling image familiar to most of us by naming parts of the body – feet, hands, ears and eyes, as an organic image of the Body of Christ. Where might he have gotten such a picture? All preaching, including that of St. Paul, is done in a context. In Corinth, where St. Paul was ministering to a newly founded church, there was a building called the Asclepion. People went there to find healing and left images and renditions of body parts, “ex-votos” as we call them now, to indicate a votive offering of devotion and gratitude for healing. This image of the Asclepion was shown during the Bishop's Address. Such a practice is still done today all over the world in places of worship and at shrines although more often now with paintings, photographs and hand-written notes. St. Paul very likely borrowed from this cultural reality that he would have known well, prompting him to develop his image of the Body of Christ by naming body parts. His point of course is that we are an organic unity, not derived from ideology or agreement on issues, but out of a relationship with a person, Jesus of Nazareth. Naming various parts of the body as examples of various responsibilities in the faith community, he says that no one part can say to another, “I have no need of you.” Or to say it more positively, we need each other and must find a way to function that way. St. Paul is clear: the Body is one and so it is with Christ. We might call this “The Wisdom of the Body.” It means the end of power plays, manipulation, the running of personal agendas and “my way or the highway” reactivity that takes our marbles and goes home. All are watered of one Spirit. We come from the same source or faucet if you will, for “You are the Body of Christ and individually members of it.” Let me offer you another image. Have you ever seen a “murmuration?” Hundreds, even thousands of starlings flying together in a whirling, ever-changing pattern is a phenomenon of nature that amazes and delights. Take a look The video above was shown during the Bishop's Address. How do they do that? As they fly they seem connected as they twist and turn at a micro-second’s notice. Scientists have been surprised to learn that the flying pattern of murmurations have more in common with physics than biology. It is now believed that murmurations are similar to other systems, such as crystals forming, avalanches, metals becoming magnetized and liquids turning to gases. These systems exist on the edge, which means they are ready to be completely transformed in an instant. Like the elements in these other systems, each starling in a murmuration is connected to every other starling. The Wisdom of the Body! When one turns a phase transition occurs. In St. Paul’s words, “If one suffers, all suffer. If one is honored, all rejoice,” because we have been made, through Jesus, into a new community for God – “This is my body.” The implicit model of American Christendom we have received and too often absorbed is that our main job is to break down people’s resistance to going to church – just work harder to get them to come. What is being called forth, however, is vastly different. It is a community able to turn in an instant, to live on an edge that is focused on being the Reign of God present in your community. This is not for the sake of those on the inside of the Church, but for the sake of those of our neighborhoods, whether one block away or half-way around the world. It was John Chrysostom in the 4th century who said, “This is the rule of the most perfect Christianity, its most exact definition, its highest point, namely, the seeking of the common good…For nothing can so make a person an imitator of Christ as caring for their neighbor.” Brian McLaren would help us see that “In a pluralistic world, a religion is judged by the benefits it brings to its nonmembers.” And why not call upon our own blessed Bishop Guerry one more time who clearly understood the Wisdom of the Body when he said, “We are called upon to preach…a social righteousness; a corporate salvation of each individual member of the community. It is not enough that the individual, viewed apart from society, should repent and be saved. He must be saved – can only be saved – as he is a member of a family, of a Church, of a regenerated and redeemed social order…A less comprehensive Gospel we cannot preach.” This must be our focus. To do so in the world we have inherited in 2017, recall what Julia Stetcher said on Twitter through a Lutheran pastor, “We are at serious risk of being a Blockbuster Church in a Netflix world.” When it comes to communicating God’s Good News, we must be smarter than our so-called smartphones and smart TV’s. We need to know for example that millennials don’t buy into traditional hierarchies. If we are going to reach them we must be aware that they relate through networks, causes and story-telling. What does that mean for the kind of Church we are going to be? We cannot be about protecting self and our own interests. Christianity is a call to a relationship that changes all other relationships. It is our phase transition, like the starlings. When we dare to live on the edge and take risks, even to fail, the results we get are like when about 43 years ago a group of brave women stood together in a church in Philadelphia to be ordained. We in The Episcopal Church in South Carolina are reaping the benefits of that Wisdom of the Body even as it occurred at great cost for some. The Wisdom of the Body continues to be manifest as now it is permissible to ordain women to the episcopate in the Church of England. I give thanks to God that my daughter does not know of a Church that does not ordain women. The holy work of inclusion must continue to be our work among “all tribes, languages, people and nations” as long as there are people pushed to the margins, their dignity diminished, and the image of God in them unrecognized. Some of you are aware that one of the main foci of the Fellowship of South Carolina Bishops is our concern for public education in South Carolina. It is a matter of justice as it involves issues of racial equality, violence, poverty, fair distribution of resources and class. I am aware of a public school in the South Bronx brought about there by the leadership of an Episcopal Church, where the percentage of students going to college is 98% when the other schools in the area are sending 16% to college. The reason? Some believe that even beyond good educational models, it is the system of love, support and accountability shared in the surrounding community and encouraged by the Church, that leads to such positive outcomes. The Wisdom of the Body! It was Martin Luther King, Jr., who observed that, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” We need to participate with God in the bending. It is the hope as shown forth in Christ that urges us forward to live into the great vision of Isaiah. “A shoot will come forth from the stump of Jesse.” Rooted in history, connected to the Wisdom of the ages, we discover once again that true religion brings peace where the created order is reconfigured. Once again we are given a call – to delight in the awesomeness of God as we seek to make it so, which is, in the Wisdom tradition, the favorite quality of human beings. This Diocese, gosh, the whole Church, no, the world, needs your wisdom. It is why we cannot say “I have no need of you.” We need, together, to be offering our best to re-imagine our structure in the local parish and diocese along with the entire Episcopal Church, to re-imagine the language we use to communicate eternal truths, to seize the moment God is giving us to assure that the main thing really is the main thing – the Reign of God. I have a hope that our parishes will learn to share resources with one another and find ways to come together to do this work, to participate in the Wisdom of the Body. We are reminded in the book The Wisdom of Crowds that, “when more are involved it is more likely we will get it right.” Collective Wisdom tells us it “is about how we come to make sound judgments with others, touched by what is common and decent in all of us.” I wonder if you would be willing to do a self-assessment in your vestries and parish committees. If you are not doing something like this from time to time, perhaps at your next gathering you could ask yourselves something like:
The way to start is “to be so developed in a prayerful, contemplative consciousness that it allows illusions and judgments to fall away,” so Rose Marie Berger would tell us. The purpose of leadership is “not to make the present bearable, but to make the future possible.” It is born in community. If we do this from a deeply centered place rooted in the wisdom way of Jesus, it will lead to action that is life-changing for all. Being a Christian is supposed to be a radical statement. Mature spiritual leadership is rooted in the collective of the Wisdom of the Body. Yes it can all be scary. Yes we are sometimes filled with anxiety and fear, especially when it can appear that so much of what we have known is falling away. Yet our longing for God’s dream needs to exceed our dread of loss. We are followers of Jesus. “If we knew where we were going, we would not have to follow anyone” (Francis Wade). Again our call: Follow Christ into the unknown and do not do it alone, “for you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” For now – pray without ceasing, listen deeply, act boldly. Trust the gift of God’s Spirit among you. You are a blessed and beloved people. I am a witness to it! For you are the Wisdom of the Body, as Christ has made you to be. Bishop Skip All Saints Sunday, November 5, 2017
“Beloved, we are God’s children now” (I John 3:2). It is one of the truths of our baptism. As we come today to observe the Feast of All Saints, we are thinking not only of Apostles and martyrs, the pioneers of the spiritual life, or the great doctors of the Church. We are considering in the imagination of our hearts the great body of the faithful, the “great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes, people and languages” (Revelation 7:9). That includes you and me and perhaps especially today, those being confirmed and reaffirming. So listen closely: “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are” (I John 3:1). A sign as you enter Winchester Cathedral in England says, “You are entering a conversation that began long before you were born and will continue long after you are dead.” We take our part in that ancient conversation by what we do here today and join the conversation of prayer that has been going on in this worshipping congregation since its inception. One part of that conversation is today’s Gospel from what we know as The Beatitudes. They are, if you will, Jesus’ platform within the Sermon on the Mount. As he climbs the mountain like a new Moses, he proclaims the meaning of God’s call as an invitation to the common people, those like you and me, who so blessedly and by grace enjoy God’s favor. Listen in with me to Jesus’ radical, challenging and life-transforming conversation: We find that the Kingdom of heaven belongs to “the poor in spirit,” humble people who have little enough to offer in God’s service and we who have no temptation to boast of what we have or what we are – yet, we give ourselves in trust to God. God’s comfort is for “those who mourn.” It is not necessarily that we have suffered great loss although many of us have, but that sometimes, beyond our best efforts, there is so little we are able to do about the many things in our world that are amiss and deeply broken. So we grieve as our hearts break while watching the evening news, most recently in the horrific events of NYC, and we bring that pain to the great conversation before God. “The meek,” we who make no claim for ourselves, “shall inherit the earth.” Virtually nothing of real value can be taken from us. We come into and leave this world with nothing of our own. It all belongs to God and is to be offered to God’s service—all of it. To “hunger and thirst” to see the right done is also blessed. Those not bound by our own prosperity to a worldly status quo have a keen desire of God’s justice to win the day for all the world, every human being and indeed for the created order itself. Matthew is stressing a desire to see God’s will done on earth as it is in heaven and to see the vindication of all who suffer. The assurance is that such hunger will be satisfied as we offer ourselves for the sake of others and that God’s agenda can be established through us and must ultimately prevail in the consummation of all history. Those who “show pity” for others day after day in our own lives – the merciful – are the very people who shall receive God’s compassionate forgiveness for our own failures. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Give mercy as we have received mercy. The “pure in heart” are we who concentrate upon God’s aims so clearly that we begin to see God’s desire for the world. Cleansed in heart we seek God in all and through all in the hope of finding and being found by God. We trust that as we continue in the great conversation with God while on this earth that we will be prompted to be “peacemakers.” We bring reconciliation to quarreling neighbors and family members, even including disassociated Episcopalians. We bring it to the larger conversations of the world in our political action and the way we vote, in community meetings and in our jobs. Our acts toward peace are to resemble the life of the Prince of Peace, as we confront structures of violence and even our own language when it dehumanizes and degrades God’s people. To “suffer persecution” for loyalty to God, to endure patiently the enmity of some in the world, is to find our reward in heaven. We may not experience this in the manner the ancient Christians did, but be sure that there are Christians in the world today suffering greatly, even being martyred solely because of faith in Christ. Certainly today, of all days, we celebrate the unnoticed service of all whose names are known to God alone and who comprise the vast majority of God’s people. The blessed as they are called in The Beatitudes, are not noted for any outstanding talent or achievement. They are ordinary people whose virtue is simple faithfulness. All Saints celebrates the innumerable company of people who have responded to God’s call by quiet and honest service – not for recognition, but out of faith. Welcome to those receiving the laying on of hands today as you recommit yourself among the great company of saints, and continue the great conversation that began long before you were born and will continue long after you are gone. You are beloved and God’s children, now and always. Bishop Skip Dear Good People of The Episcopal Church in South Carolina,
As you are aware, the mediation conversations will commence in Columbia on Monday, November 6, and are scheduled for an initial three days. I know many of you are already doing so, but I ask that everyone in our Diocese, individually and corporately when gathered in worship, to be holding all parties at the table in prayer. The form and content is up to you, but my prayer will be that everyone present will be radically open to the Spirit’s presence, our conversations will be respectful of one another’s dignity, and that we will begin preparation for a future that participates in the new creation God desires for us all. On this All Saints Day, be reminded that we are gathered together in a “blest communion, fellowship divine…yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.” Blessings and peace to you in Christ, Bishop Skip The Rt. Rev. Gladstone B. Adams III Bishop Provisional, South Carolina From the Beatus de Osma, 11th-century illumination of Revelation 7:9, via Wikimedia Commons November 1, 2017
The origin of this day began very early in the Church’s life in Ireland. As a day fixed on the Christian liturgical calendar, All Saints Day did not appear until the early 9th century in Rome. Although there are many layers of meaning that have been assigned over the centuries to the celebration of this day, at its root is a desire to express the intercommunion of the living and the dead in the Body of Christ. I would suggest, however, that it is even more primal than that. I wonder if a day like All Saints is also expressing a human longing to know that what we see is not all that there is. During my visit to the Galapagos Islands a few years ago we were traveling to one of the islands by speedboat, when about a dozen or so dolphins came up by our side and swam next to us, occasionally leaping completely out of the water. It was enthrallingly beautiful as we watched those amazing creatures. A young German woman in her early 30’s sitting next to me said out of the blue, “Do you think they have souls?” During a parish visitation where the parishioners placed written questions for me in a bowl, I pulled out the question, “Do you believe our dogs and cats have souls and go to heaven to be with us?” Another asked, “What do you make of the books giving accounts of people who have died and come back to life describing moments of profound light and even encounters with Jesus?” Such questions point to a hopefulness that there is indeed something beyond this life. As I discovered in conversation, the woman asking the question about the dolphins was a non-churched veterinarian, but she posed a spiritual question not knowing anything of my life’s vocation. Perhaps questions just like these are ones we need to be considering as we look to how to be the Church in this time of the 21st century. It is not the question itself that is most significant. It is the matter of the heart to which the question is pointing – the assurance that this life is not all that there is. All Saints Day celebrates that hope and assurance as we hear those great words from the Revelation to John: “After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands.” All creation, what has been, what is and what yet will be, is held in God’s love. To this we are called to give witness. Bishop Skip Proper 25; October 29, 2017
Today’s Gospel brings us to another in a series of tests of Jesus. We heard one last week when Jesus was asked by the Pharisees whether it was okay to pay taxes to Caesar or not. This test appears to be relatively straightforward: “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” Yet Jesus does an amazing thing in his answer. He uses the tradition, a response from Deuteronomy about loving God and a response from Leviticus regarding the love of neighbor, and marries them. Now loving God and loving neighbor become inseparable. No longer can one love God in private. To be in right relationship to God we must also be in right relationship to our neighbor. Let’s now back up a bit and look more closely at what is at play here. When the Pharisees ask this question of Jesus, they and Jesus know well that over time 613 different commandments had been enumerated in the tradition. They were not equally weighty, however. Each rabbi had his own way of ordering the precepts of the Torah, thereby reflecting his personal theology. If I were to ask each of you, “What do you believe is the purpose of your life in Jesus,” your answer would reflect something of your personal theology, your way of approaching God and faithfulness. The same thing is operative here. So when Jesus responds to the query with Dt. 6:5: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind,” and then says it is the greatest and the second from Leviticus is like it, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself,” it reflects his personal religious bias. He is saying also that the other 611 all hang on these two! What do these two commandments, apparently the center of Jesus’ own theology, tell us? First, love God. This is not merely a feeling or about affection, although it might include that. This is primarily about our will and what we are willing to act upon. This is about our life and how we order it. To love with all our heart, mind and soul means to do so with all of who we are: time, intentions, finances, business, vestry, family and anything else you can think of. The community of faith, what we call the Church, exists primarily to prepare the ground for worship and create an environment for holiness in the ordering of our life. The implications for the Pharisees in Jesus’ answer are that they are not merely to study the Torah, but they are to become the Torah. For us, we are not merely to study the Bible, but become the Bible. We are not just to come to worship, but become a worshipful being. We are not to only partake in bread and wine, but become Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Christ for the sake of the world. To love God with all of who I am is to live and breathe God, think God, be immersed in God. So if I am making a business decision, I am thinking about who I am as a person of God. If I am pondering marriage or any significant relationship, I ask myself how it honors God. How does the ordering of my house, my family, my finances, my leisure time, my care of the earth, reveal the love of God and my neighbor? Huge questions, yes? Being faithful, as Jesus sees it, is first about God, not me. Then he takes another step. The practice of our faith is not about me, but about we. Worship is most authentic by gathering as a community. Notice in our Prayer Book tradition that the words are continually we and us, not I and me. Furthermore, we cannot celebrate the Eucharist with our eyes closed to the needs of the world. The Orthodox tradition has a wonderful turn of phrase: “The liturgy of the Liturgy.” It means that worship must flow from this altar to the altar of the world. A story told by two American church workers in East Jerusalem may help underline Jesus’ point. A large number of Palestinians were gathered at a bus station across from the Damascus Gate. As you are aware this can be a place of great tension between Palestinians and Israelis. A group of young Palestinians began to taunt some of the Israeli soldiers when suddenly, a Palestinian father, carrying a small child in his arms, walked up to an Israeli soldier and shook his hand. As tensions eased, the relieved soldiers took out a pot of tea and shared it with the crowd. For you and me, our engagement with the world is like that cup of tea. This altar of our worship and communion with Christ and one another here at St. Stephen’s goes with us out those doors and everything we do. For a Christian every boardroom table is an altar, every kitchen table is an altar, every vestry meeting table is an altar. Loving one’s neighbor as oneself is more than a passing definition for Jesus. It is a radical way of living. Our allegiance, (hold on here!), is not first to self, country, work, money, the American dream, or Wall Street. Our first allegiance is the love of God and the love of sisters and brothers who are found everywhere and anywhere, all made in the image of God. We come again now to Eucharist, to be formed and transformed more and more to be the Body of Christ in the world. We are to become what we eat and drink. Leave worship today to greet the Christ already at work in the world. Loving God and loving neighbor, we pursue justice and peace for the entire creation. Bishop Skip St. Simon and St. Jude with St. Margaret of Antioch, detail of c.1410 tapestry, via Wikimedia Commons. St. Simon and St. Jude, Apostles
“On the foundation stones of the heavenly Jerusalem are written the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb; and the Lamb himself is the lamp of the city.” (the antiphon for the Benedictus assigned for the day) Of Simon and Jude, two of the twelve, little is known. They tend to be linked because tradition places them as apostles to Persia, modern day Iran. Yet the antiphon above names them along with the other apostles as foundation stones of the heavenly Jerusalem. In Scripture we have glimpses of the conversations that took place among the original disciples. They include words of excitement, hope, disappointment, disagreement and even bickering. Sometimes they are clueless and other times great words of faith shine forth. Very human power struggles cause conflict and division. In the midst of it all, however, comes a vast reservoir of faithfulness of which you and I are the inheritors. Foundation stones indeed. Such grace, more often than not, comes to us from the little known saints whose paths we cross. They are also a part of our foundation. I am a person of faith in Christ Jesus today because of the original twelve, because of Simon’s and Jude’s “ardent devotion.” I am also a person of faith because of a third grade Sunday School teacher who with a twinkle in his eye taught me the awesomeness of God; an eleventh grade trigonometry/analytic geometry teacher who invited me to see the complexity of God and to trust my own giftedness; an elderly parishioner who helped me to revel in and enjoy the beauty of God as she danced her prayer. The list goes on. Who are these little known folks in your life? Who are the ones who have passed on the great repository of faith to you? Give thanks for them this day even as we bless God for the gifts of Simon and Jude. Bishop Skip Proper 24; October 22, 2017
We are witnesses today to an attempted set-up, the first of four controversies between Jesus and various community leaders. Some might even call it entrapment. You know what that is: The action of tricking someone into committing a crime in order to secure that person’s persecution. In the United States entrapment is illegal and people sometimes use it as a defense in court proceedings. Today we are looking at first century Palestine and whether illegal or immoral, the Pharisees are looking to entrap Jesus in order to bring about his persecution. They want to get rid of this prophet of God who keeps telling inconvenient truths that confront and even shatter the religious and political status quo. Jesus, a holy pest if ever there was one, keeps teaching through his parables and examples things like: all are welcome at God’s table; everyone is our neighbor; everyone has access to God’s grace and mercy; one’s station in life is not a measure of God’s love or one’s worthiness; the poor are blessed; the first are last and the last first. The list goes on. Such teachings are unacceptable to some, especially those who want certain groups of people subservient, devalued, or even dehumanized. A few representatives of the Pharisees greet Jesus with kind words, buttering him up if you will, in order to try and promote their real agenda. They call Jesus sincere, one who tells the truth, saying that he teaches the way of God and gives deference to no one. Compliments are filling the air, but they are empty words. Then they ask the million dollar question: Is it okay to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Jesus sees through the ruse, using the moment to teach something essential to his proclamation of the Kingdom of God if only they and we would have ears to listen. Jesus knows well that to encourage not paying the tax due to Caesar would be against the law. Thus like a good Rabbi he throws it back on them as he asks a rhetorical question to which the Pharisees know the answer: Whose image is on the coin? It is that of the emperor, Tiberius Caesar, minted and authorized by the Roman government. Furthermore, we know that the coin had inscribed on it these words: “Tiberius Caesar, son of the divine Augustus, great high priest.” Right on the coin itself is a claim to divinity for the emperor, at times even called son of god! A good Pharisee would see it as idolatrous, but nothing is sacred in this moment of attempting to ensnare Jesus in a conundrum. Although they are hoping to get Jesus to say something that will get him in trouble with the government, Jesus’ answer challenges them to have to deal with the very real question of whom they regard as Sovereign over all. Is it God, or is it the emperor? Who has the greater claim on their life, the Lord or the state, which by the way is a great question for us in 2017. The choice is left to the Pharisees just as it is left to us. In the Scriptures, to say that Jesus is Lord is also to say that Caesar is not. Preceding Jesus’ time in history, Isaiah too is very clear—“I am the Lord, and there is no other; besides me, there is no god.” The first two commandments of the ten are likewise clear that we are not to worship anything or anyone, but God alone. Idolatry is when we give something ultimate importance or a place of supremacy in our life that is due to God alone. Of course we do it all the time, which is why the Bible, in the story of Israel and beyond, warns us about it over and over and over again. Psalm 96 says, “…the Lord is to be revered above all gods…all the gods of the peoples are idols.” Let me offer you an example since the central image given us today is a coin – money. Again, Psalm 96 says, “Ascribe to the Lord honor and power. Bring offerings and come into his courts.” We do so at every liturgy, placing our offerings of bread, wine and financial treasure on the altar. If we look at the Scriptures, the thing Jesus talks most about is the Kingdom of God. What does he talk second most about? It is our treasure, that is, our money or resources. Why do you think that is so? It is because God knows that our treasure is God’s chief competitor. We make of it an idol, which is why when we put our treasure there our heart will be there also. Today's lesson from Jesus is not about the separation of church and state. That is a misreading. Today is teaching us that everything is God’s, including the emperor, including the coin, and if the Pharisees would pay attention to their own faith tradition they would know that as well as anyone. Our call is to treasure God for who God is, to treasure our relationship with God, and to nurture the ways in which we meet God in one another as we bear the image only God has bestowed upon us. The Christ in me meets and respects the Christ in you. The central way in which we are continually reminded who God is and who we are in relationship to God is when we gather in worship. The worship of God, through Christ, in the power of the Spirit, is the antidote to idolatry and the worship of false gods. So it is that we are gathered here today around this Table of the Lord. We do this to remember him partly because we so easily forget. Here we are re-oriented to the one God, living and true. The Pharisees were amazed by Jesus’ answer, yet left and went away. I wonder if we might be so amazed that we might instead be drawn closer to him and one another, as we gather to adore him here at Good Shepherd. Bishop Skip Detail of St. James the Brother of the Lord by Tzangarolas Stephanos, 1688, via Wikimedia Commons The Gospel of Matthew informs us that “A prophet is not without honor except in his own country and in his own house.” Ah yes, the old familiarity breeds contempt idea. People familiar with Jesus’ household fail to perceive God’s presence in him simply because they know his family origin and context. He is Joe and Mary’s boy. They know his brothers and sisters. His expressions of the truth of God are dismissed solely because of assumptions made about his family and cultural associations.
Have you ever felt judged because of being placed in a category whereby someone assumed he or she knew what your core values may be, or have you ever made superficial judgments of another person’s worldview simply because of ascriptions like liberal/conservative, Republican/Democrat, progressive/traditional, Black/Latino/White? The epidemic partisanship found in our cultural dialogues would seem to be calling for a greater familiarity with one another, that is, a willingness to walk with one another and truly get to know one another across perceived divisions. In the life of prayer, my experience is that familiarity fosters greater love. I find that more frequent participation in the Eucharist does not cause me to take it less seriously, but draws me into a deeper relationship with Christ, God’s love for me, and increases my desire to make a difference in the world for the sake of the Gospel. Familiarity can be empowering. The Semitic usage of the word brother can also mean cousin or other forms of kinship. I like the thought, however, that James was in fact Jesus’ brother. When James met with the Council of Jerusalem, as recorded in Acts 15, and supported the Gentiles who were turning to God by not imposing ritual restrictions, perhaps he had learned this understanding of God’s generosity and welcome to all from his brother. When James was placed on the pinnacle of the temple in Jerusalem and refused the direction of the authorities to turn the crowds away from Jesus, he was thrown down and cudgeled to death. He gave his life – for his brother and for the sake of unity. Who knows exactly what kind of relationship Jesus and James had, but they must have had a significant awareness of one other’s humanity. Accounts like this help keep us from emphasizing Jesus’ divinity at the expense of his humanity. James knew Jesus as only a brother could, and still came to faith after Jesus’ Resurrection. It also helps us remember that it is precisely through ordinary human beings, even those we call saints, that we see the grace of God working in glorious ways to shape the world and our attitudes toward one another. James was able to teach and act on the teachings of his brother. In this case, familiarity seems to have paved the way for greater intimacy between siblings, even love and respect. Maybe familiarity doesn’t always breed contempt, and honor can indeed come from one’s own house. Bishop Skip St. Luke shown in the San Luca Altarpiece (1453) by Andrea Mantegna, via Wikimedia Commons. October 18, 2017
The Gospel appointed for this day is Luke 4:14-21, where we discover an account of Jesus teaching in the synagogue. In Luke’s Gospel Jesus is called teacher thirteen times. With such prosaic underlining, Luke is emphasizing Jesus’ authority as he addresses people about God and God’s mission plan. Thus to follow the teaching that appears in this part of the Gospel, we learn that central to God’s mission is:
Interestingly, the text from Isaiah cited by Luke is not to be found on a scroll in that specific way, since it is an artistic weaving of two different passages from Isaiah. Luke is seeking to make a theological point. He omits the portions that might allow a spiritualizing of the text in order that we understand that it is precisely the economically, physically and socially unfortunate about whom he is speaking. One can never say, if we read the Bible accurately, that it does not involve politics. Mind you, not partisanship, but certainly politics. A faithful life will always have political implications of some kind. It was so for Jesus and therefore for us. Remember, it was a government that executed Jesus. You and I therefore are to participate with God in seeking to bring about the new creation God desires for all. The four points above are always a good reference point for any of us as we examine our personal life and how we might be co-creators with God in its building. They are also a good checklist for any vestry or even an entire diocese, an examen if you will, to see if the ministry we are about as a body contributes to the realization of Jesus’ teaching. There is no better beginning or ending in our mission to follow Christ. Bishop Skip |
Bishop Skip AdamsThe Right Reverend Gladstone B. Adams III was elected and invested as our Bishop on September 10, 2016. Read more about him here. Archives
December 2019
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