Let me be a Witness: Advent 1, Year B

I am stunned by the reality that today marks the beginning of the third week of Advent. How can this be? To be honest, I’m never ready for Christmas by the third Sunday of Advent. Rarely do I buy Christmas presents on time, despite the ease of Amazon prime. Often, it’s our daughter who gets the house decorated by now (she grows impatient waiting on her parents to pull the lights down from the attic). This year, like most years before it, I’m simply moving from one activity to the next: caught up in the energy and busy-ness of the season. 

Of course, this year is different from all other years. Instead of prepping the house for visitors, I’m pre-recording worship services. There’s no long wait at the post office to ship presents. There IS splurging for two day shipping, hoping gifts will arrive on time. There are no parties or Christmas cookie exchanges. Instead, our family wonders how we can make this Christmas more unique. We are trying to honor being together and all the people and traditions we miss.

One tradition that I will miss is the Christmas pageant. Christmas pageants are a new tradition in my life. When I was a small child, we traveled to my grandparents for Christmas. Then, as I grew older, we stayed home at Christmas and attended “midnight” mass (no pageant at midnight mass - all the children are in bed by then). After college, working at an Episcopal school, I experienced my first Christmas pageant. Christmas pageants have been an adult experience for me: as a chaplain, priest, and parent.  And, I love them. Every year, through costume and music, the story unfolds. Here is the angel Gabriel. Here is Mary, and Joseph, and the donkey. Here is the innkeeper, the shepherds, their sheep, stars and angels. Here is the baby, our Christ. The pageant invites the children, invites all of us, to find our place in the story. 

One character who is rarely, if ever, found in the pageant is John the Baptist. Maybe that’s because no one wants to wear camel’s hair? More likely, it’s because we associate John with Jesus’ adulthood. Of course, Luke weaves Jesus and John together from infancy. And mostly, John baptizing Jesus is the story we know. Notice, in John’s Gospel, John is not the baptizer; he is the witness. If John (the Baptist) was in the pageant, he’d be a sole voice, standing the in the wilderness: “Look,” he’d say, “There’s the lamb of God.” Would he be at the beginning or the end - or both?

Forgive me while I chase a rabbit here, there’s a point to the chase. All while preparing this sermon I kept getting distracted: John the Gospel writer and John the baptizer. How to distinguish between each? And, this is how John’s Gospel works: words repeated with different characters and images for a purpose. BOTH John the Gospel writer and John the baptizer are witnesses; they “testify to the light, so that all might believe…” The Gospel inherits John the baptizer’s witness. And we are to do the same: to come, see, and believe. The point is we inherit John’s ministry, like the Gospel writer, and become witnesses.

In John’s Gospel, a witness does more than tell a story or attest to what they have seen. A witness or witnessing leads to belief. At the end of the Gospel we hear: “…these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” (John 20: 31). The power of witness is the life it brings to the listener, the reader, to the whole world.

Let’s talk about Jesus for a minute. Who is he and what does he do? He is the light of the world that shines in the darkness and will not be overshadowed. He is the Incarnate Word, present from the beginning, life for everyone. He is the power by which we are children of God, born from God. From him, we receive “grace upon grace” (John 1: 16). By his life, death, and resurrection, our lives are bound to His life. This is God’s life reconciling creation to God’s own self. On Christmas morning, when we sing “Joy to the Word the Lord has come let earth receive her king…,” this is what we sing: that Christ Jesus came to us and for us, and not just for us, for the whole world. This is our witness, our testimony: Jesus, the Son of God, born of a woman, calling us to come and see: healing, forgiveness, and abundant life for all.

Those of us who believe in Jesus the Christ, the incarnate word of God, are witnesses. We have a story to tell of how Jesus transformed our lives. Maybe it’s a story, like Nicodemus, of finding new life, being born again. Maybe it’s a story, like the woman at the well, of finding meaning and value in our lives. Maybe it’s a story, like those at the feeding of the 4000, of discovery: that God, through the life of Jesus, gives us all we need. For me, following Jesus has led me to a life of humility, mercy, and grace. 

Without Christ, I depend solely on my self and am ruled by anxiety and narcissism. I wonder, how are you a witness to Jesus?

John the baptizer, the first witness, is the standard for our witness. John the baptizer escapes every name. He is a voice making a way for the Christ. He baptizes with water only to prepare for the One who is greater than all others. Everything he does points away from himself and to the Christ, and not for his sake. He takes up this witness “so that all may believe.”

May we take a moment and examine our lives. How are we a witness to the Incarnate Word? How does the light of Christ in our lives break through the darkness? How do we make the paths straight, a way for the Word of the Lord in the world?

Here, at the Cathedral, we’ve used our resources to benefit our community: building an awning for St. Francis House, offering warm clothing for Dorcas House and El Zocola, and supporting The Stewpot. We’re also working diligently to offer a variety of ways for for our community to come close to God through prayer and worship. There are other ways, of course. Every time we love God and our neighbor we live in service to God’s kin_dom. We are witnesses of Christ’s reconciling love to the world. 

May we witness Christ’s reconciling work in creation. May we believe in the transformative power of Christ in our lives and the world. May we know Christ and make him known. Amen.

We remember. We press on: The Feast of All Saints

I recently had the pleasure of presiding at a wedding. It was wonderful. The bride and groom gathered with family in the Chancel. The flowers were perfect, the music glorious. And the bride and groom themselves were delightful. As they bound themselves to one another, I had a glimpse of God’s presence in our midst. It was a moment of God’s mercy, grace, and of course, love: faithful, honest love.

You may know that First Corinthians chapter 13 is one of the most popular readings for a wedding. Perhaps you’ve heard it: Love is patient, love is kind… Speaking for myself, I rarely listen to the whole text anymore. I think I already know it. Yet, when I really listen and seek to follow Paul’s guidance on love, I am transformed. 
Over the last few years, I’ve found that the Beatitudes have also become popular for weddings. And I’m always so pleased when couples choose this portion of the Sermon on the Mount. The Beatitudes invite us to experience God amidst some hard realities in our lives. If a couple chooses this reading, they seem to acknowledge that hard things will come.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit…” 

A bit easier to ponder for some than Luke’s version: “Blessed are you who are poor…” (Lk 16: 20) To be honest, I’m not really sure what it means. Are we poor in spirit when we are feeling sad or lonely? Are we poor in spirit when we recognize our dependence on God? Is this a bit like the first will be the last and the last will be first?

“Blessed are those who mourn…” 

Do we imagine there is blessing in our mourning? Probably not while we are deeply in our mourning. Yet, when we hold one another in our grief, when we share our sorrows with one another, blessings come. There is a sacredness, a sacrament of God’s community and kin_dom, when we mourn.

“Blessed are the meek…” 

Indeed, every relationship and community benefits from patience and gentleness. And people I know who practice these (meekness, humility) are blessings, to me, in and of themselves. 

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” 

We all know that life is uncertain and there will be moments of grief and humility. To me, this beatitude, though, presents a particular challenge. How do we hunger or thirst for righteousness? What is righteousness; who decides? Many of Jesus’ teachings challenge us to move from self-righteousness to righteousness, from moral superiority to justification. Justification or sanctification in the Christian life comes from binding our life to Christ. In other words, we are made holy by the ministry of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. When we hunger for Christ in our lives, we come close to God.

“Blessed are the merciful…the pure in heart…the peacemakers…” 

These are all fairly palatable and strong wisdom for marriage, or any relationship. Mercy, faithfulness, peace making make for good connections in community. They are primary ways to love God and our neighbor.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake…Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you…”

These last few verses are very compelling and uncomfortable. Couples are inclined to leave these out for their wedding. (Rare is the person who wants to equate marriage with persecution.) These two Beatitudes are very specific to the Christian life: what does it mean to bind our life to Christ? How do we live as peace makers, loving God and our neighbor? Will it require our social standing, hostility and criticism, even our lives? Following Christ may cost us something, more than just giving up our way. When we choose Christ’s way over any other, we come very close to God, like the prophets, like the saints. These Beatitudes are stark reminders that God’s ways come first, above human glory; and, our desire for human glory can be hard to shed.

The Greek word we translate as blessed is makarios. If there’s anything I’ve learned studying the Beatitudes it is this: this word does not naturally translate to English. Blessed could mean happy. Except, makarios doesn’t mean happy the way we imagine happiness. Rarely is anyone who is mourning walking around joyful and laughing. Blessed could mean blessed; but, again, not the way we mean commonly mean blessed. We often consider being blessed along the lines of being prosperous, fortunate, or enviable. Rarely do we equate persecution with fortune or prosperity. Blessed could mean greatly honored. That translation helps me the most. Indeed, I honor those who mourn, the humble or meek, the merciful, and the peacemakers. And, perhaps that’s a good motivator for embodying The Beatitudes. Whatever translation works for us, the point is that these ways, the ways highlighted by The Beatitudes, are closest to the ways of God. 

We can find God in self-less-ness, grief, humility, a desire for doing what is right, and compassion. We will find God when we seek peace and righteousness, when we follow God’s ways before any other. If we’re looking for God’s plan, if we’re looking for ways of belonging, if we’re looking for the image of God, The Beatitudes are a clue.

This is why we read The Beatitudes on All Saints’ Day. Consider anyone you imagine a saint (we’re about to read a long list), do we imagine that their lives resemble the ways found in The Beatitudes? 
I didn’t know St. Francis or St. Clare. And we consider them saints. Their lives are measured in acts of mercy, humility, and an ardent desire for righteousness. 

You don’t know The Groundhog Queen. She isn’t perfect. And she’s a lot of fun. She is loving and kind, gracious and self-giving. She is humble and pure of heart. She has borne deep grief. My friend, The Groundhog Queen, is joyful in the Lord. She wants nothing more than to share that joy with you. She is a saint. 

I never met Bishop Pierce, Mary Worthen, Jim Moseley, or Gordon Wittenburg. Yet, they are saints in the life of this parish. Men and women who sought the ways of God in their life and the life of this church.

The Feast of All Saints is the day to remember. The heart of Christian community is the desire to follow Christ: to pursue righteousness, God’s way of love, to risk seeking God before ourselves. The life of faith is marked by poverty of spirit, mourning, humility, and mercy; markers often scorned, belittled, and feared by our culture. Our community bears the marks of those who came close to God right here on Spring Street. It was no easy task building community on the corner of 17th and Spring Street. Many people gave, and continue to give, generous offerings of themselves to this place. And, even if they found glory in these offerings, it is Christ who reigns. Enter into the Garth, the Garden, the Cathedral and we will find ourselves surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses: lives measured in acts of love rooted in something greater than themselves. We remember.

And we press on. This afternoon (Tomorrow evening), as I’m installed as the Dean and Rector, we will also baptize two adults. Perhaps this is a holy coincidence. More likely, this is God’s way of nudging us closer to who God calls us to be: a gentle reminder that the life of the Cathedral is not about us. Our life together is a sign and symbol, a sacrament, of something greater than ourselves. God is working, at all times and in all places, to reconcile us to God’s self. As we seek Christ’s ways, we bind ourselves to his life, death, and resurrection: we are raised to new life in Him. Our community, yoked in Christ’s love for the world, has the power to bring God’s reconciling love to the world. If we remember anything today, may it be that we are a community of God’s saints: those who strive to seek God, to follow Christ, in all times and all places.

Over the last few months, I have experienced the great pleasure it is to be “The Dean.” Of course, I long to know more of you and more about each of you. And, what I already know, what you’ve already taught me about you, is: kindness, hospitality, a deep desire to serve, and your hunger for God. I know that you grieve, personal and communal losses. And I know that you hope, that you believe God raises us up from what presses in on us. I am honored to grieve with you, to dream about the future, to bind our hopes together. I am delighted to be a member of this community of God’s saints.

I am so excited for our future. I know it will not be easy. Our desire to love God and our neighbors is our foundation as we face any challenge. We know hard things will come. And we know we will experience God in the midst of them. Blessed are we when we search for God and find God. Blessed are we when we mourn, for we will find comfort.

Blessed are we when we seek ways of meekness, righteousness, purity, and peacemaking, for we will come close to God. And may God grant us strength and courage to keep searching, keep following, keep showing up, that we may see God again and again and again…Alleluia! And thanks be to God!

Be at peace: Proper 23A

Recently, I saw a twitter thread about the six month mark of a crisis. It came from a crisis journalist: someone who covers long term conflict and trauma. He was writing to share his experience with these people and places. He wrote that the six month mark of any crisis looks and feels very similar to the beginning. Even though there is change, the exhaustion comes afresh. The feelings of grief, loss, and change rise to the surface again. Now is the time to remember to take care of ourselves, if we can: to eat and rest well, he wrote.

Here we are: six months into COVID social distancing and the grief resonates all around me. There is so much I miss. I miss restaurants, movies, and date nights. I miss coffee hour, Sunday school, and Communion. I feel the loss of having some sense of what each day will bring. Every day brings a remember that (to quote a friend) all 2020 plans are fluid. I’m trying to stay as flexible and adaptable as possible. And I want everything to go back to normal; except, what is normal? I am tired and tempted to fall into bad habits. I am trying to be gentle to myself so that I can be gentle with my neighbor. Sometimes, to offer rest to my soul, I come into the Cathedral to pray. I sit in the silence and wonder. I wonder which pew is your pew. I try to listen: for the choir, the creaking of the pews, children’s laughter, and the lifting of our voices in prayer together. I know that it will not be like this forever. I am trying to let myself grieve, so that my hope for the future can thrive.

Scripture tells the story again and again of God’s people in the desert, or metaphorical deserts. These are not always struggles. The desert becomes a place where the absence or search for God is palpable. Adam and Eve are thrown out of the garden. Abraham and Sarah finding God in the stars and sand. Joseph is sold by his brothers into slavery and taken to a foreign land. Moses, Aaron, and Miriam lead their people from slavery into a desert. The people of Israel watching their kingdom fall and sent into exile by foreign empires. Jesus driven into the desert encountering Satan. The disciples hiding in the upper room, afraid and grieving the death of their friend and teacher. Paul sitting in a prison cell, wondering if his life or death will spread the Gospel. The desert is not one place. It is the place where our grief and hope meet; our yearning to understand where God is in our deepest suffering and greatest joy. 

The letter or letters to the Philippians is written while Paul is in prison, probably in Rome. What we call the letter to the Philippians is likely the remnants of four letters. The threads of friendship, joy, and the glory of Christ hold our version of the letter together. Paul hints that the Philippians are suffering or facing opposition. Paul uses his suffering to encourage them. 
Philippians is a short book, four chapters. I encourage you to read it. Last week, the Sub-dean drew on those marvelous phrases: “I press on…straining forward to what lies ahead…” Provocative reminders that, whatever our circumstances, we continue to reach for Christ. 

Paul seeks purpose while in prison, believing his death will bring life to him and the Gospel. And Paul depends on the faith of his friends and the power of the Holy Spirit. Most of all, Paul binds himself, his life and death, to Christ. He encourages the Philippians, he encourages us, to do the same. The life we find in Christ, even as we suffer, strengthens us for all our circumstances.  

How, then, do we bind ourselves to Christ? In baptism? In the Eucharist? Yes AND in joy and gentleness and peace. There is no either-or. Baptism and Eucharist unite us to Christ’s life and death that he may dwell in us and we in him. The story, our story, though does not end there. We are sent into the world to love and serve. This is its own binding: glorifying Christ with our lives, loving God and our neighbor as Christ loves us. 

Our reading today comes just after Paul urges unity in the community. We don’t know the conflict between Euodia and Syntyche. We can imagine; there are all kinds of ways we are divided from one another, even in the church. He reminds the community, then, what they have in common: they “have struggled beside [him] for the sake of the Gospel.” For the sake of the Gospel, they must remember their common goal: the glory of Christ. This purpose binds them to one another and to Christ; this purpose is their community.

Then Paul encourages them. He commends practices of joy, gentleness, and peace. He invites prayer in the face of worry. Seek truth, honor, justice, and purity, a list of philosophies that pair well with the Gospel. His assumption is that we agree on what is true and honorable, just and pure. Because he assumes all of these are rooted in Christ. What are the things we have learned, received, heard, and seen in Paul? They are a life lived devoted to the ministry and glory of Christ. Follow Christ, yoke ourselves to Christ’s life, and we have all we need. In Christ, our divisions cease; we have union with God and one another.
Here we are in the desert. We miss our church. We miss our community. How can we bind our selves to Christ and one another when everything is so different? 

We practice. We study scripture, remembering the story of God’s ongoing activity in the world. We pray, giving thanks and interceding on behalf of all of creation. We seek Christ, practicing gentleness and turning our minds towards truth and justice. We practice all that we have learned and received. These words of Paul, to me, are a series of sayings we can keep in front of us at all times. Embroider them on a pillow or hand letter them on a card. Choose your favorite verse and write it on a post-it note. And, let’s remember that Paul wrote these words during some of his darkest days. They are not a glossing over of suffering and hardship. They are reminders that there is more to us than our circumstance. We are faithful members of Christ’s body; our lives vehicles for Christ’s peace to the world. 

Dear beloved children of God, be at peace. Be gentle to yourselves and one another; pray for one another trusting the Holy Spirit to empower and strengthen us. These days may seem dark and divided. And, as we seek Christ in all things, we will know His peace. For Christ is with us.