How do I find faith?

       As you might guess based on my line of work, I spend a lot of time thinking about faith.  I ponder my own faith: how it waxes and wanes; how it sometimes feels downright silly; how it sustains me in moments of distress; how it compels me to do all kinds of foolish things.  Moreso, I consider the faith of others: how it is formed; where it comes from; how it grows, deepens, and flourishes.  Faith formation is a part of the job description for being a priest, but I have my own internal motivation.  It lingers in my memory as one of my greatest failures in ministry, a giant “what if” that compels me to seek the roots of faith and how to nourish it on a regular basis.

       Back in my seminary days, a bright-eyed-not-quite-yet-post-evangelical Steve did his field education at St. James’ in Potomac, Maryland.  My big project for my first semester of field ed was to lead a seekers’ class.  Potomac, Maryland in 2008 was a rapidly growing community.  McManisons were being built faster than the zoning board could approve them, and congregations like St. James’ were eager to find ways to let new neighbors know they existed.  When I came up with a snazzy name like, “Finding God in Spite of the Church,” our people got excited.  We printed fliers and folk hung them up in the post-office, grocery stores, and even forwarded a press release to the local newspaper.  Many longtime members came to see who would show up.  Others came to the class to learn how to speak the language of a seeker.  Despite all the passive publicity we did, no one actually invited anyone, and only one seeker showed up.

       The product of a Roman Catholic mother and a Zoroastrian father, she arrived confused, frustrated, and seeking something that she had seen in the religious lives of her parents.  She came with only one question, “How do I find faith?”  Our very knowledgeable and eager group offered a straightforward and Biblical answer, “it is a free gift, you don’t need to find it, you just need to ask for it.”  We all sat back in our chairs, proud of our answer and waiting for her to experience the relationship with God in Christ that all of us simply took for granted.  “Isn’t that the arrogance of having faith?” she replied, “I have been searching for it, but faith hasn’t been offered to me as a free gift.”  We fumbled around for a better answer, but never found one.  Considering her struggle, faith seemed so easy for the rest of us, and try as we might, we couldn’t explain to her where it had come from.  She never came back, and I occasionally remember to pray for her, wondering if that question still sits heavy on her heart.

       “How do I find faith?” is a question at the center of our Gospel lesson.  We are back in the upper room that Jesus and his disciples had rented for the holiday weekend.  It had been a chaotic Sunday on the back of a wild week.  They had gone from a nice Passover dinner with the gang to Jesus being dead and buried in less than 24 hours.  Now, as John tells the story, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb before sunrise on Sunday to anoint Jesus’ body.  Instead, she found the stone rolled back and the body of Jesus gone.  She ran and told Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved what she had seen, and they sprinted to see for themselves.  John tells us the unnamed disciple saw the empty tomb and believed.  What he believed, we don’t know, John simply tells us that the disciple had pistos, faith.  There is no mention of Peter’s faith or lack thereof in that moment, just that after seeing the empty tomb, the two of them went home.

       Mary stayed behind and wept.  Wept for the death of her friend and teacher.  Wept for the loss of hope.  Wept for the heaviness that now his body was missing.  Suddenly, Jesus appeared before her, though she thought him to be the gardener.  She begged him, “if you have taken his body, tell me where it is.”  Jesus responded with one word, “Mary,” and instantly, she recognized him as her Rabbouni, her teacher, her friend, her Lord.  Jesus commissioned Mary as an apostle to the apostles and she hustled back to the upper room to proclaim her faith and say, “I have seen the Lord.”

       Our lesson this morning begins later that same day.  It seems the proclamation of Mary Magdalene and whatever it is that the unnamed disciple believed hadn’t made much of an impact on the group as they sat behind a locked door and feared for their lives.  The unspoken question that surely hung heavy in that room must have been something like, “How do we find faith enough to move?”  Amid their fear and through a locked door, Jesus entered and spoke one word, “Shalom.”  “Peace be with you.”  Apparently, faith didn’t happen in that moment because John tells us he had to show them his hands and his side before they realized what was happening.  “Peace be with you,” Jesus says to them again, as he breaths on them and offers them the Holy Spirit as advocate and guide.

       “How do I find faith?” Thomas wonders.  They all got to see Jesus’ wounds.  Thomas just wants what the rest of the disciples got because the idea that Jesus is resurrected from the dead is so far beyond his ability to comprehend.  Thomas needs proof, as did the rest, and so, a week later, again in a room that is closed off, Jesus appears, offers Shalom, allows Thomas to touch his hands and his side, and says to him, “don’t have apistos, have pistos,” “don’t be unbelieving, believe,” “do not doubt, have faith.”  And then Jesus says something that seems to be geared not toward the gathered disciples, but toward those of us who one day might hear the story, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have pistos (belief).”

       Faith is a free gift, but Jesus knows that free doesn’t mean easy.  Mary had faith because Jesus said her name.  The disciple whom Jesus loved had faith because he saw the empty tomb.  Others had faith because Jesus offered them peace, showed them his hands and his side, and gave them the Holy Spirit.  Thomas believed because Jesus gave him what he needed. You and I have faith because others have shared with us the power of God and the difference that Jesus made in their lives.  Our faith is sustained, presumably, because we continue to experience the risen Lord in our own lives, but if you find faith hard to hold onto these days, know that you are not alone.  In the face of mass shootings, impotent law makers, climate change, and a rise in authoritarianism, just to name a few of this week’s portents, it is pretty easy to begin to wonder, “How do I keep my faith?” and it’s no wonder so many these days ask, “How do I find faith?” or worse yet, “why should I find faith?”

       John’s Gospel was written so that those who read it might find pistos, and that by having faith, might find abundant life.  It seems to me that hidden in plain sight in all of this is the answer to that woman’s question so many years ago.  “How do I find faith?”  Find a community that has faith, let the life of that community wash over you, and slowly, over time, you’ll begin to experience that life for yourself.  Faith is a free gift, but it isn’t an easy one.  To build faith, it takes a community, working and praying with each other, and when you find it, Jesus is so right, it is a blessing.  May God bless us with the faith we need to sustain each other in building up the Kingdom of Heaven in a world that desperately needs it.  Amen.

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Believe like Mary

       One of the greatest gifts of serving a congregation with multiple clergy is that I don’t have to preach both of the big sermons every year.  Becca and I have the luxury of alternating Christmas and Easter, which gives us a couple of years between tackling the well-worn stories that we all know and love.  Still, every time my name does come up to preach one of the two biggies, I stress about it.  Big time.  I want to say something new, something brilliant, something that brings you all back next week.  Of course, it isn’t all about me, and after 2,000 years of sermons on the Incarnation and Resurrection, there isn’t much left that hasn’t already been said.  So it was, with great joy, that I read through my go-to sermon prep resources and found something I had never seen before.

       It was in a commentary published by Alicia Myers, Associate Professor of New Testament and Greek at Campbell University Divinity School.  Published in April of 2020, I had far too many things on my plate to read any commentaries that Easter, and so I’m two years late to this party.^[1]  In her post over at Working Preacher, Professor Myers rehashes the various experiences of the empty tomb that Mary Magdalene, Simon Peter, and the Disciple Whom Jesus Loved each had.

       Mary was the first to arrive.  Having violated the Sabbath laws by walking such a great distance before sunrise on Sunday morning, Mary found the stone rolled away and immediately assumed that someone had stolen the body of her friend and Rabbi.  John doesn’t say that she even took a second to look inside.  Instead, Mary did what any sensible human being would do, she took off running for help.  She went to find the two people who were closest to Jesus – Simon Peter and the aptly described, Disciple Whom Jesus Loved.  Breathless, she told them what she assumed to be true, “Someone has taken the Lord.”  Just as Mary had done, they started running.

       Some scholars believe that the Disciple Whom Jesus Loved was John simply because the Gospel that bears his name has him winning the race back to the tomb.  Whoever he is, upon reaching the tomb, he looked in and saw the burial clothes empty. Quickly,  the more impetuous Simon Peter flew through the opening in the rock and stood, shocked, by what he saw.  Crumpled up linens in one corner, the cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus’ face nicely folded up in another, and not a sign of Jesus anywhere to be found.  The other Disciple finally entered, saw the same scene, and John says, “he believed.”

For as long as I’ve been hearing John’s Easter story, I have assumed this meant that in that moment, this Disciple suddenly remembered everything that Jesus had told them.  How, on at least three different occasions, Jesus had told them that he would die and rise again.  How, on that mountain where Jesus was transfigured, Elijah and Moses talked with him about the plan of salvation.  How Jesus had promised to go and prepare a place for them so that he might take them to his Father’s many mansions.  I have always thought that finally, in that empty tomb, everything made sense, and the disciple believed that Jesus was the Messiah, who died and rose again.

Here comes Professor Myers, who points out what actually happens next, a portion of the text that I apparently never hear.  John says, “he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.  Then the disciples returned to their homes.”  *Mind Blown* They didn’t get it.  What the Disciple believed wasn’t that Jesus had risen from the dead.  No, he didn’t understand that yet.  Instead, he believed what Mary believed, that someone had stolen the body of Jesus, and totally unsure of what to do next, he just went home.  To sulk.  To mourn.  To worry.  To pray.

This response makes a ton of sense, of course.  Dead people don’t come back to life.  Dead people stay dead, and so, when they are famous, or infamous, as the case may be, and their body disappears, the first assumption probably isn’t, *snaps fingers* Resurrection.  The first thought is, logically, “Well, that stinks.  Somebody stole his body.  Let’s go home and figure out what to do next.”  For the first time ever, I finally see what is really happening in this story, and I’m flabbergasted.  Maybe you are too.

One person does stick around, however.  Mary is too shaken to just go home.  Stuck between grief and anger, Mary stands at the entrance of the tomb and does the other logical thing, she weeps.  As she wept, she took her first look inside the tomb and saw, not the crumpled up grave clothes, but two angels, who asked her why she’s crying.  “Someone took my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve laid him,” she replies, still fully convinced that her dead Rabbi is still dead.  She turns around, sees a man she assumes to be the gardener, and answers his question in a similar fashion, “If you took him, please tell me where he is.”

It isn’t until she hears her name, “Mary,” that Mary Magdalene has the epiphany that I’ve always assumed that other Disciple had.  In an instant, she realizes the miracle that has happened.  Her friend, her Rabbi, her Lord has been raised from the dead.  Mary no longer believes that his body has been stolen.  She now believes that Jesus Christ was resurrected from the dead.  Before she knows it, Mary is being commissioned as the Apostle to the Apostles, sent to proclaim the Good News for all the world, “I have seen the Lord.”

If it were left to Simon Peter and the Disciple Whom Jesus Loved, we might not be here this morning.  It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that they would have seen the empty tomb, believed that Jesus was gone, and headed back to Capernaum and a lifetime of fishing in the Sea of Galilee.  Something kept Mary at that tomb early Sunday morning.  Maybe she was paralyzed by grief, or maybe it was the Holy Spirit that kept her close so that she might see and come to believe.  Thanks to her, and generation upon generation of people like her, we are here this morning to share in the celebration that comes from believing in the unbelievable miracle that Jesus Christ rose from the dead.  Thanks to her, and generation upon generation of people like her, we have the privilege of taking our turn in building the Kingdom of Heaven here on earth. May you be blessed with the faith of Mary Magdalene this Easter Day, and believe, deep in your bones, that love always wins, that hope conquers fear, and that joy comes in the morning.  Amen.  Alleluia.

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[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/resurrection-of-our-lord/commentary-on-john-201-18-11

A Little Faith is Enough

       This week, the girls and I took a quick, end of summer, Corona-cation up to Lake Malone.  While trying to be safe and physically distant from others, we made a few plans for fun things to do.  Miniature golf in Hopkinsville was a must.  So was a stop at Stellian’s in Central City for ridiculous, bajillion-calorie milkshakes garnished with whole Twinkies, Little Debbie Nutty Buddy Bars, and Oreo Cookies.  On the lake, we swam at the State Park Beach, but the centerpiece of our trip was a kayaking adventure.  I know next to nothing about kayaking.  I mean, I’ve paddled around for a few minutes near the shore in one a couple of times, but I am by no means an experienced kayaker.  I probably should have researched how to get back into a kayak in deep water before we launched, but I honestly didn’t even know what I didn’t know.  Without any faith in my own abilities, I put what little faith I had in the kayak’s buoyancy to keep us afloat.

       During our afternoon ride, the lake got a little busy.  At one point, cutting across our bow was a pontoon boat.  On our port side was a speedboat, pulling a tube full of kids, making donuts in the water.  These two powered machines were putting off pretty good wakes that were now coming at us from two different directions.  In order to not find myself suddenly in the water, I needed to muster just enough faith in the center of gravity in my kayak so as not to panic and capsize myself.  It wasn’t much faith, but it turned out to be enough to ride that little kayak through what this beginner thought was some pretty rough water.  Meanwhile, in the other kayak, Eliza thought it was all a lot of fun.  I believe Jesus had something to say about the faith of a child, but that’s for another sermon.

       As I read the story of Jesus and his disciples on the stormy sea, I couldn’t help but look fondly upon the little faith of disciples.[1]  It is easy to look down on the disciples, especially Peter, in this story.   Our lesson comes on the heels of one of the most remarkable miracles in Jesus’ ministry.  The feeding of the five thousand is the only miracle, aside from the Resurrection, to appear in all four Gospels.  Hounded by the crowds, Jesus wasn’t even able to mourn the death of John the Baptist.  As he and his disciples crossed the lake looking for solitude, the crowd ran around the shoreline to meet him.  He spent the whole day curing the sick, until it grew late and the disciples suggested Jesus send everyone away to find something to eat.  Instead, Jesus took five loaves of bread and two fish and made the disciples feed the crowd out of God’s great abundance.  As soon as the twelve baskets of leftovers were collected, Jesus sent the disciples on their way back across the lake while he found a quiet place to rest and pray.  We might wonder how their faith baskets weren’t also filled to overflowing.

The truth of the matter is that they still had plenty of reason to doubt.  Jesus sending them away was reason enough to question what was going on.  He’d spent the last several days telling them parables about weeds planted among the wheat, seeds that didn’t take good root, and angels separating the good fish from the bad.  In the feeding miracle, they made what seemed like a mistake in suggesting that Jesus send the crowds away.  Despite participating in such an enormous miracle, when Jesus chose to stay behind, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for the disciples to wonder if something had gone wrong.  Their faith was not particularly strong as the waves begin to the beat against the side of the boat and the wind turned against them.  Exhausted from a night of fighting the storm and mired in doubt, it is no wonder that the disciples were terrified when they saw what appeared to be a person walking on top of the water, coming right at them.  In their fear, they cried out, “It is a ghost!”

As their already shaky faith began to crumble, Jesus came right up to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”  In order to experience this next miracle, all the disciples needed was enough faith not to panic and sink themselves.  It seems that eleven of them got it, but Peter needed more proof.  In that moment, Peter’s faith wasn’t strong enough to take Jesus at his word.  He needed a sign.  When Jesus called him out onto the water, his faith again began to falter, but as he sank, he cried out to the only one he knew could help him, “Lord, save me!”

It had been less than twelve hours since the disciples directly participated in one of Jesus’ miracles, yet their faith was fragile, and I honestly don’t blame them.  It’s been twenty-two Sundays since we’ve been able to participate in the sacrament of Christ’s body and blood.  Twenty-two Sundays since the community has gathered in the nave, a Latin word that literally means ship, a worship space designed to remind of us Christ’s presence in the stormy seas.  If you are feeling like your faith is weak at this point, I don’t blame you.  Going without the rituals and practices that have sustained this congregation for more than 175 years, it can most certainly feel like we’ve been battered by the waves and wind for 154 straight days.  Having to decide whether to send your children to school as the COVID-19 pandemic continues to grow.  Having to decide between putting yourself at risk to go to work or choosing between paying rent and buying groceries.  Struggling to affect systemic, institutional change in light of 400 years of white supremacist policy in our nation.  The waves are coming quickly from every direction, and it can feel like faith in God’s promise of restoration is hard to come by.  Maybe you are looking out at the horizon and feeling terrified yourself.

In that kayak on Wednesday, I was reminded that even though it sounds like criticism from Jesus, a little faith is more than enough.  Take heart.  In fact, it is that very same Jesus who elsewhere tells his disciples that faith as small as a mustard seed could move mountains.  Do not be afraid.  We may not be able to gather in person, but even at a distance, God is present.  Take heart.  Even with a little faith, God can work miracles.  Do not be afraid.  Even if it feels like we are sinking, God can save us.  Take heart.  Do not be afraid.  All God asks of us is enough faith not to panic and sink ourselves.  The rest, even when it doesn’t feel like it, God’s got it.  Take heart.  Do not be afraid.  My friends, a little faith is more than enough.  Amen.

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[1] I’m grateful for the Sermon Brainwave Podcast for sparking this line of thought during vacation week sermon prep. http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1287

Day Clean

I love sleep.  The refreshment of the Sunday post-church clergy nap.  The joy of sliding into clean sheets.  The cocoon of comfort under the covers while the ceiling fan swirls cool air all around.  I love sleep.  So it is that I noticed with some trepidation yesterday this idea that in John’s Revelation of the new heaven and the new earth that there will be no night.  If, in fact, the glories of heaven are beyond even my wildest imagination, then at the very minimum, it will include biscuits and gravy, some sort of non-injurious football, and the opportunity to sleep.

As this somewhat ridiculous mental exercise was bouncing around in my head yesterday, the pilgrimage in which I am journeying took a tour of about three blocks of Savannah, Georgia from the River where slave ships docked to the slave auction block that sat in the shadow and under the protection of Christ Episcopal Church.  Our guide, the operator of Underground Tours of Savannah, Sister Patt, is a descendent of the Gullah Geechee people and those among the 14 different tribes stolen from the Golden Coast and sold into slavery in the United States.  Sister Patt shared with us some of the customs and language of the Gullah Geechee, including this concept of “Day Clean.”

For the Gullah Geechee, sunrise is Day Clean, it is God wiping the slate clean for a fresh start.  As it says in Lamentations, “The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; God’s mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.”  Each morning is an opportunity to choose, yet again, to live for the Kingdom of God, to seek justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God.  In 21st century America, we almost live without night and the natural cycles of time.  Each day is not its own, but part of a never ending slog toward progress.  The hamster wheel never slows down.  But if we are intentional about marking time, as our ancestors did, I think this concept of Day Clean can be of great value.  It is a way to honor the good and the bad that happened yesterday, to offer it to God, and then to start the day fresh, forgiven, restored, and working toward a more hopeful future.

As I sat on the beach at Isle of Palms, SC this morning, I gave thanks for the opportunity of a new beginning, a fresh start, a Day Clean, as I seek to discern how God is calling me to take what I’ve learned and experienced during this week into my life and my ministry. I wish for you, dear reader, the chance to experience a Day Clean for yourself.

Without a Doubt

The story of Peter and the sheet from Acts 11 is an odd one, even by Biblical standards.  It has so many supernatural elements as to almost be absurd.  In fact, it seems to read more like a hagiography than a historical account.  There’s the vision Peter has while in a trance.  There’s the exact timing of the arrival of the men from Caesarea.  There’s the Holy Spirit descending upon Gentiles just as it had upon the first believers at the beginning.  If you were trying to write a story that would carry spiritual gravitas, you couldn’t have scripted one better.

Lost in all of the supernatural events, however, is the deeper truth which Peter is trying to articulate to the Apostles in Jerusalem – the radically inclusive nature of the Gospel message even for the Gentiles.  Mired about halfway through the fantastic story, just after the three men arrive at Joppa, Peter, now removed from his trance, receives another word from the Holy Spirit, “to go with them and not make distinction between them and us.”

That phrase has always caught my attention.  In digging into it a bit, I’ve realized that it is another example of English trying to convey in a lot of words what the original Greek handled with simple eloquence.  Other translations say “The Holy Spirit told me to go and not worry” (CEV).  “The Spirit bade me go with them, nothing doubting” (KJV). “The Spirit said to me: Go with them, without hesitation” (PNT).  The original Greek word means “to evaluate, consider, doubt.”

While the NRSV’s take, “make no distinction between them and us” works, I think it missed the mark on what Peter is really saying the Spirit said to him.  What seems to be happening here is an opportunity for Peter to trust God.  Not unlike that experience with Jesus walking across the water, through this vision and the call to Cornelius’ house, Peter is being invited to step way outside of his comfort zone.  As the story is relayed to us, it appears as though Peter’s actions have raised a lot of questions within the rest of the leadership of the Way.  He certainly knew, based on his faithful Jewish upbringing, that stepping into Cornelius’ house would forever change the game.

When the Spirit speaks to Peter as his stares, probably dumbfounded, into the faces of the three men from Caesarea, what I hear the Spirit saying is, “Without a doubt, go.”  “Go and share the Good News of Jesus Christ.  Go and fling open the gates of the Kingdom of Heaven.  Go and let the whole world know what God is up to.  Go and don’t doubt.  It isn’t for you to decide who is in and who is out.  Step out of the relative safety of this Jewish sect and watch what God has in store.”

Yes, it put Peter in an uncomfortable spot for a while, but because of his ability to trust, a skill that we know was hard earned in Peter, the Kingdom of God was opened to all and God was glorified.  I can’t help but wonder, what doubts are holding me back?  What is God calling us to do that will fling open the gates of the Kingdom?

Parlor Tricks

One of the gifts of having two young children is that I end up watching television shows I might not otherwise watch.  Well, its a gift sometimes.  Our third go ’round of the Thundermans isn’t really a gift at this point.  Anyway, one of the shows we like to watch as a family is America’s Got Talent.  You probably know the premise, but it is basically a variety show in which acts of all kinds compete for a million dollar prize and a show in Las Vegas.  I think it is safe to say that our favorite acts in AGT are the close up magic acts.  What those people can do right in front of your eyes, and how it can be conveyed both to the judges, mere inches away, and in my living room thousands of miles and a DVR time-hop away, is nothing short of amazing.

As I re-read the Gospel lesson appointed for Sunday, the well-worn story of Jesus’ first miracle of turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana, I couldn’t help but wonder how quickly he would have gotten X’d off by Simon.

In John’s Gospel, there are seven signs, or miracles, highlighted in Jesus’ ministry: 1) water into wine, 2) healing the boy in Capernaum, 3) healing the paralytic in Bethesda, 4) feeding the 5,000, 5) walking on water, 6) healing the man born blind, and 7) raising Lazarus from the dead.  When compared with the other six, this first sign of turning 180 gallons of water into the finest of wines seems like nothing more than a silly parlor trick.  It is the kind of close of magic that my daughters perform with a deck of cards and their ability to count to 10.

My severe eye-roll at this miracle notwithstanding, the response to it by the disciples is pretty astonishing.  Somehow, in the wave of his hand, turning water into wine, Jesus revealed his glory.  Despite the fact that it was not yet his time, and that like his baptism, it seems he only did it to make his mama happy, in this first sign, Jesus revealed to the world his glory – his magnificence, grace, and majesty – the same Greek word used to describe his Second Coming with “power and glory.”  Somehow, in John’s Gospel, by way of what I would deem to be a cheap trick, it seems Jesus inaugurated the Kingdom of God, and in so doing, his disciples came to believe in him.

That’s the funny thing about faith.  I doesn’t come to us all in the same way.  I might roll my eyes at the wedding miracle and prefer to look at Mark’s first miracle of healing a demoniac in Capernaum as more revelatory, but that’s me.  For others, this miracle of water turning into wine shows Jesus power of the nature, it affirms his status as the pre-existent Word from John’s prologue, and sets up the other six miracles that will follow.  No matter how we get to it, each of these signs are meant to point us to the truth that Jesus really is the Son of God.  Each, in its own unique way, shows us the authority given by the Father to the Son.  Each calls us to answer the question the disciples had to reckon in the middle of that wedding banquet.  Do you believe?

An Election Week Reminder

One of the unintended consequences of cutting the cord on our satellite dish has been the return of local commercials as we watch network television via an antenna.  This time of year, local commercials means only one thing – political commercials.  With almost every local official up for re-election and several key state and national races in play, my Saturday SEC on CBS was inundated with adds begging me to vote, occasionally for someone, but, more often, against someone.  The timing seems about right.  Races tend to turn negative in the last 10 days or so as a candidate tries to motivate his or her base to get out and vote.  Negative ads all seem to turn around one key question, can my opponent be trusted? From the perspective of the ad maker, the answer should be an obvious no, and they’ll do pretty much whatever they can to ensure it.

Turning the question around trust is an interesting tactic, as once again, RCL Track 2 congregations will find themselves reading Psalm 146 during an election week.  It shouldn’t take you long to realize that the Scriptures don’t have much time for modern political campaign strategies.

146:2 Put not your trust in rulers, nor in any child of earth, *
for there is no help in them.

Despite what TV and radio ads, door hangers, and an entire rainforest full of mailers might suggest, God knows that the empire is not the means to the ends of the Kingdom of God.  Despite the reality that Christianity has essentially been the state religion for more than 1,600 years, followers of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob have never really been intended to fit within the parameters of the empire.  Our’s is a higher calling than Republican or Democrat, but rather, as the Psalmist goes on to say “Happy are they who have the God of Jacob for their help! * whose hope is in the Lord their God”

Every election season, this seems to be harder and harder to remember.  Granted, it is also increasingly clear that candidates and their supporters have no qualms with muddying up their theology with partisan politics.  When any politician is made out to be on par with the eternal Word of God, things have gotten a skewed.  As followers of Jesus, our call is above and beyond that fray.  Our call, again in the words of the Psalmist, is to righteousness, which is defined by such actions as caring for the stranger, sustaining the orphan and the widow, and frustrating the way of the wicked.

It is ok to allow your faith to inform your vote, but when we get turned around and make our vote our faith and place our trust in the rulers of the earth, then we have lost sight of the Kingdom of God.  So, pray for all candidates for political office.  Vote your conscience.  But always remember, that God’s kingdom and its righteousness is where your trust is more properly aligned.

The Rich

In an era of growing income inequality, with many, for the first time, coming to recognize the plutocratic power of a few corporate conglomerates, it is easy to hear Sunday’s gospel lesson and think, “Oh, that’s not about me.”  When Jesus says, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God.” and “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” the reaction of most 21st century American Christians is to look at least one step up on the economic ladder, shake our heads, and think, as the Pharisee once did, “Gee, I’m glad I’m not them.”

As I’ve said elsewhere, this temptation is one we should be wary of.  Even the average minimum wage worker in the United States earns more than 93% of the rest of the world’s population.  The monetarily rich, it would seem, aren’t that far away.

As preachers are wont to do, however, I can’t help but think if this passage from Mark is both about money and not about money.  What if Jesus is using the example of the rich would-be-disciple to prove a larger point about faithfulness?  In Eugene Peterson’s idiomatic bible translation, The Message, Peterson translates Matthew’s version of the beatitude about poverty thusly, “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.”

What if being rich isn’t just about money?  What if being rich is about being comfortable.  What if being rich is about self-reliance?  Even if we are unwilling to characterize ourselves as fiscally rich, by virtue of our upbringing in self-reliant post World War 2 America, many of us are subject to this idea that we don’t need anyone else.  Me and (maybe) my Jesus are all we need to get through life.  When we look at the world this way, then yes, it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a person who is rich in self-reliance to enter the kingdom of God.

See, kingdom living is about trusting in God’s grace.  Kingdom living is about turning outward, looking at the world through God’s eyes, and about seeing that existence isn’t just about me, myself, and I, but about the communities in which we live and move and have our being.  Kingdom living is about taking all we have, giving it up for the good of the world God created, and following Jesus.

I’m not saying that Jesus’ encounter with the rich man isn’t about money – it is stewardship season, after all – but what I am suggesting is that if we think it is only about money, it becomes too easy to dismiss.

You might join with the disciples in throwing up your hands and wondering, “Who then can be saved?”  I know I think that from time to time.  Just remember the words of Jesus, “For mortals it is impossible,” that is, you can’t rely on your self to get it done, “bur not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Good Teacher?

Preachers have only now begun to recuperate after yesterday’s triennial tap-dance around the divorce text when a young rich man comes running up to Jesus, falls at his feet, and cries out, “Good teacher.”  Good teacher?  Did he not hear what went down earlier in Mark 10?  Good teacher?  Is he not aware of what Jesus is about to do to him and to preachers for the next several thousand years?  Good teacher?

After a quick rebuke from Jesus, the rich man, seemingly no longer on the ground in front of Jesus, puffs up his chest, removes the good from his title and goes to to proudly claim that he has kept all of the commandments since his youth.  Good God man!?! Who in their right mind would make such a claim?  And yet, he does.  He boldly suggests that he has been able to keep all 10 of the Big-uns for as long as he’s been in control of his actions.  Good for him.

Jesus, no longer the good teacher, but now the teacher that the rich man needed, tells him that even in his faithfulness to the law, he is lacking something.  It seems it is that pesky first commandment.  You know, the one about having no other gods but God.  It seems the rich man has hoarded his wealth.  His possessions are his idol – his riches, his god – and so, if he is truly committed to living faithfully in the Kingdom of God, he must give it all up, give all his money to the poor, and follow Jesus.  In the words of old Hank Williams, Jr.

That ain’t good, at all

It is easy, and quite tempting on the heels of last week’s text, to make this not-so-good teaching from Jesus exclusive to the rich man.  It’s be easier to say, “Jesus wanted him to sell everything, but Jesus didn’t understand late-stage capitalism, and you’re good.”  But, well, that’s probably not all true.  It would be difficult, and maybe a little tempting in a world built on scarcity, to say, “Yep, Jesus meant this for everyone.  To follow Jesus, you’ll have to sell it all, give it to the church (because the church is surely poor).”  But, that’s probably not all true either.

What the teacher, who we know to be good, seems to be saying to the rich man and to us, is that we do all kinds of bending over backwards to make sure God isn’t the God of everything in our lives.  We like to make it look like we’ve got this faith thing together, like we trust in Jesus, and like we are living in the Kingdom of God, but the hard reality is that all of us struggle to keep from making something else the god of our lives.  It might not be money for you.  It might be power, drugs, success, soccer practice, feelings, politics, or your resume.  There might be any number of things that are clamoring for you to hold on tight, lest God might come into your life and change your priorities.  What Jesus is inviting that rich man to experience is truth faith, letting go of everything he thought he could control, and trust fully in God.

That’s a teaching that might be hard, but it really is good.

But who do you say that I am?

In the list of Top 5 Moments in the ministry of Jesus, the average disciple would probably list, in some order:

• The Baptism of Jesus
• The Temptation
• The Transfiguration
• The Crucifixion
• The Resurrection

Number six would probably have some significant variation.  Some might include the Ascension.  Others would think of Jesus turning the tables in the Temple, feeding the 5,000, or walking on water, but I would like to submit that event #5a in the ministry of Jesus should be Caesarea Philippi, which we will hear this Sunday.

Before the Transfiguration solidified for Peter, James, and John just how special Jesus really is, this moment in a Roman resort town built to honor Caesar, commonly called the son of god, is the first real opportunity that Jesus and his disciples had to unpack everything they had seen and heard.  Miraculous healings, profound teachings, and all kinds of run-ins with the religious powers-that-be had already happened.  Surely, the disciples were constantly talking amongst themselves, wondering just how powerful this man was to whom they had hitched their wagons.  Could he be Elijah?  Was it somehow John the Baptist, back from the dead and disguised like former Mets manager, Bobby Valentine?  Or was this Jesus character another in the long line of prophets God had sent to proclaim a word of challenge and hope to the people of Israel?

JBap, is that you?

It is during this intentional time away, the world’s first vestry retreat, that Jesus invites his disciples to dig deep into that conversation.  “Who does the world think that I am?” he asks them first, to get the ball rolling.  And then, he dives in by asking this group of faithful souls who have dropped everything to follow him, “But who do you say that I am?”  Who do you think you are following?  What does your experience of me suggest is happening here?  Are you able, unlike my own people in Nazareth who tried to stone me, that God’s hand is at work here?

I’m always caught short by this encounter between Jesus and his disciples because I wonder what my answer might have been.  More accurately, I wonder what my answer to this question is.  Yes, I believe in my heart and confess with my lips that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, but do I live that reality every day?  Do I choose to follow Jesus as Lord in each moment?  No, of course I don’t.  No one does.  In those moments when I’m following my own path, when I focused on my own selfish goals – when I’m feeling jealous or frustrated or bored or burned out – in those moments, who do I say Jesus is?  This difficult question that Jesus poses to his disciples is a helpful one for us all to remember on our daily journey of faith.  In this moment, as I do this thing, make this decision, walk this path, who am I saying Jesus is in my life?