Reconciliation: Christ Centered Love Lived Proper 18A

 

Reconciliation: Christ Centered Love Lived

As a Church and as a Society and a Nation, there may be only one thing we all agree on: that we all disagree about almost everything these days. So, we self-identify as Red or Blue people; young or old people; conservative or liberal people; the listing goes on and on and is exhausting for us all. We seem to be in a true test of what President Abraham Lincoln meant when quoted the gospel saying a house divided, a nation divided, a church divided, cannot stand. Today we hear about a process of reconciliation as Matthew’s Jesus lays it out, and it sounds so simple.

 

Yet, when one lives a life spending time in one parish church and diocese after another, one might conclude that this sensible bit of advice on the need for reconciliation in Christ Centered Communities in Matthew 18:15-20 has never been read before. Or, if read, not heard. We are surprised to be reminded that it is front and center once every three years in our rotation of lectionary readings for Sundays. And amidst the detailed instructions on how to approach reconciliation, it’s easy to miss two things. 1) the risk of failure is written into the script – failure resulting in someone being kicked to the curb; a kind of giving up altogether that ought to strike us as being at odds with the Good News of God in Christ have tasked ourselves to exemplify in all that we say and all that we do. This giving up on reconciliation often is the result of thinking that gospel and gossip are somehow related – for more failures at reconciliation are the result of gossip in the community of Christ than any other possible cause.

 

The second thing we tend to overlook is the recognition that wherever two or three are gathered in Christ’s name, Christ promises to be there with us. Reconciliation is a we-thing. We might notice that step one, which might be paraphrased, “If you have a problem with someone, speak directly to that someone, not someone else,” results in there being two people, which Christ says constitutes enough of a quorum, or minyan, for him to be present. Which is true if, and it is a mighty if, if the two gather “in the name of Christ,” not in the name of some cause, opinion, or self-centered sense of self-righteousness. Then in step two, go to speak with that someone with one or two other “witnesses,” it now constitutes more than a new quorum or minyan of three or four people having the conversation – three or four people seeking some sense of reconciliation.

 

Step three suffers from translation issues – it seems it’s always a translation issue. Steps one and two failing, our NRSV translation insists we take it to “the church.” The word in the text of Matthw is ekklesia, which means “a summoned group,” originally in Ancient Greece, an assembly of summoned citizens in the agora, that is a public meeting in an open space. Quite possibly in a market place. Imagine! Hauling someone who has somehow offended you into the local Shop Rite or Safeway to sort things out! Over time ekklesia has come to mean “church,” and indeed our Book of Common Prayer does allow, concerning someone who may be a “notorious sinner,” to be ex-communicated. That is, no longer able to receive Holy Communion, or even harsher, not even attend church any longer. This practice, however, is immediately tied, by Matthew’s Jesus, to an ancient practice of “binding and loosing.”

 

This is where we make the most consequential misunderstanding of what is being said. Binding does mean to restrict or remove someone or something from the main body of an assembly. But binding as a practice does not exist, nor have meaning, unless accompanied by “loosing,” which is to restore that someone to the life of the summoned assembly. My understanding is that binding is not to be imagined as a permanent state of removal or isolation, but rather more like a time-out period in which to return to steps one and two so that the ekklesia can be fully restored.

 

All of which, we must remember, must be practiced in the “name of Christ,” and with the understanding that Christ is present to all such attempts to reconcile differences notorious enough to be considered sinful, that is missing the mark of what it means to live a Christ-like love with one another. Reconciliation can be construed as Christ-Like Love Lived.

 

Let this percolate for a moment. And then try to remember a time when differences in the ekklesia have been successfully reconciled either by steps one and two, or, a successful return of someone has been bound from being a part of the assembly – all done both in the name of Christ, and everyone behaving as if Christ is right there as reconciliation is being sought? It’s not easy

 

Experience suggests that most often the person who feels wronged, person number one as Matthew’s outlines the process, leaves in a great huff, and making sure everyone knows they are leaving. Or, they simply disappear. And it is easy to understand why. The church historically does not do a great job of teaching this process of reconciliation. And in places where it does, people are often not willing to attempt to resolve things either in the name of Christ, and even less likely honoring the fact that Christ promises to be here with us even when there are only two or three of us, let alone the entire summoned assembly! It is an inherently risky business, this reconciliation thing. And yet our Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer lists it as a primary ministry of us all: “and according to the gifts given to them [us], to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world…” (BCP 855) Not only between two people. Not only within the Church itself. But in the World! A world which we all agree is in serious need of reconciliation.

 

To make any of this work, I find I need to remind myself of several things. All people are created in the image of God. We are all living icons of the living God. We are all to seek and serve Christ in all persons. Not some people, not a lot of people, but all people. For the good of the world, the church, and ourselves, we need to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world. Or, else. Or, else we all end up bound. If we don’t forgive one another, we carry the burden of division. All of us. Every single one of us. Forever and ever.

 

The highlight of my week in three parishes I have served was to lead pre-school chapel for three and four-year-olds. We sang a lot. We sang all the time. As I pondered all of this, a song I learned for chapel at Church of the Good Shepherd, Ruxton came to mind it’s a kind of anthem of reconciliation proclaiming that by all that we do and say we can show that not only does God love us we love God too.:

 

God loves me, and I love God too

God loves you, and I love you too

God loves us, so everything we do

Will show God that we love God too

 

This is what it means to Live Christ-Like Love. People can see that we are Christ’s. This is not only who we are, but whose we are. Everything we do and say must show others not only does God love us, but that we love God too! Reconciliation: Christ-Centered Love Lived!

Some Personal Reflections Proper 17A

 Some Personal Reflections  Proper 17A

Our story from the third chapter of Exodus, Moses before the Burning Bush, always reminds me of my ordination to the priesthood, forty years ago this coming December. When one is ordained a deacon, one of the things presented to you is a Bible “as a sign of your authority to proclaim God’s Word…” Someone had forgotten to get Bibles for us, so they looked into a Sunday School Closet and found illustrated Bibles. Bishop George Nelson Hunt gave me a Bible that had photos of the Holy Land. At the beginning of the New Testament was a page of three photos. The first one was of a bush – a random bush somewhere in Israel. The caption read, “The Burning Bush!” 

Six months later, when I was to be ordained a priest, The Reverend Canon Chester LaRue asked if I wanted a new Bible, or would I like them to use the one I received as a Deacon. I said, “Oh, the one I have because it has a photo of The Burning Bush!” In the Diocese of Chicago, the ordinations are quite elaborate. You are on your knees in front of the bishop who is seated. He makes the sign of the cross with Holy Oil on the palms of both hands, wraps your hands in a linen cloth called a manutergium made by nuns, a chalice is then balanced on your bound hands, steadied by one’s thumbs, a stole is placed around your shoulders, and then the bishop ordains you. After all of that, my hands were unbound, but still kneeling, Bishop James Winchester Montgomery hands me my Bible, says the appropriate words, and then leans over and says in a hushed tone, “Here it is, Kirk, Burning Bush and all!” It was that moment when, like Moses, I knew I was on Holy Ground, and, like Moses before the Burning Bush, wondered exactly just what had just happened to me, and what was I meant to do next! How can I possibly proclaim the Word of God? And then I remembered, as Moses questioned the very same thing, the Lord, identified only as “I Am,” reassures him saying, “I shall be with you.” And that has been a certainty upon which I have relied from that day forward.  

In our ongoing episode in Matthew (16:21-28) near Caesarea Philippi, after asking the disciples who people are saying Jesus is, and Peter blurts out, “You are the Christos! The Son of the living God!” Jesus congratulates Peter, which must make him feel pretty good. Jesus then goes on to tell the twelve, in no uncertain terms, that he is going to Jerusalem, where he will undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed by the Roman Empire, and on the third day be raised. Peter, apparently not listening to the last part of being raised again, now takes Jesus aside and rebukes him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” Jesus says to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” Which does not mean a guy with horns, a tail and pitchfork in his hand. In those days it simply meant “accuser.” And the word for “get behind” is also translated later as “come after me,” a variation on the familiar, “Follow me,” which is what Jesus calls us all to do. We are Peter. Peter is us. 

Then Jesus, to all the disciples, and from Matthew’s perspective, to all future persons who choose to follow Jesus, lays out what our job description is to be: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Try to imagine how Peter now feels. One minute he seems to see who Jesus really is. The next, he learns he is really off-base. There is nothing about belief. Nothing about a creed. A simple commitment to follow Jesus, which means to take up our own cross. We often speak of this, that or the other cross we have to bear. It seems like the cross is whatever bad things happen to us in this life. We say things like, “She has had this cross to bear for so many years.”

My first year as a priest, however, I was soon to learn another way of seeing this story. It was my first baptism, and this was the gospel that day. She was a little girl, about five years old named Eleanor. And her mother, Frances, was being baptized as well. It was a special morning for the entire congregation.  Afterwards, as we were having brunch at Eleanor’s grandmother’s house, I was talking with someone while enjoying a piece of quiche and a glass of wine, when all of a sudden there was a tug on the back of my trousers. I turned, and there was Eleanor asking me, “Can you still see the cross on my forehead?” That is the cross, traced with oil that had been blessed by Bishop Montgomery, signing and sealing Eleanor as Christ’s own forever. That cross that represents all the promises she made, as a five-year-old, such as to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to love your neighbor as yourself, to strive for justice and peace for all people, and respect the dignity of every human being, and that all that we say and all that we do will proclaim the Good News of Jesus.  Eleanor was old enough to say, “I will with God’s help.” As I looked into her inquiring eyes and her expression of expectation, I said, “Yes, Eleanor, I can still see the cross on your forehead!” That is a great question, I thought to myself. Then I went back to eating quiche, drinking wine, and continued the conversation. By the time I got home that afternoon I had entirely forgotten our little encounter. 

Fortunately, God was with me, and God was not through with me yet. One week later, as I was vesting for church, there was a tug on the back of my alb. Eleanor had come to find me in the Vesting Room, and looked up at me, and once again asked, “Can you still see the cross on my forehead. I was as surprised as Peter. She had remembered that moment for eight days! Simply for asking such a provocative and important question I of course said, “Yes, Eleanor, I can still see the cross on your forehead.” At that moment, Eleanor’s question forever changed my understanding just what Jesus was talking about that day outside Caesarea Philippi. Of, course, I thought to myself. It’s this cross, traced with oil on our foreheads, marking us as Christ’s own forever. People are meant to see this cross in how we live into promises we make in our baptism. Jesus is not asking us to believe anything. He wants us to live in a way that reflects our commitment to him. Like the single “t” in the middle of the word “commitment,” there is only one cross that Jesus carries for us all. He carries all our troubles and failures so that we can let the cross on our foreheads lead us into the life of his kingdom. Then people will know we are those people who follow Jesus; we are those people who proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ in everything we say and everything we do. They will see the cross on our foreheads! 

This would be a heavy load, to be sure, for any one of us. But Jesus promises that where two or three of us are gathered, he is in our midst. As God promised to Moses, Jesus promises to be with us - Emanuel, “God with us.” He means for us to live this life, not on our own, but together with others. Being Christian is not a “me” thing, it is a “we” thing. We do this by giving up the ways of this world, and by living the life of the kingdom Jesus is always talking about: seeking and serving Christ in others, all others; loving those who hate us; continuing his work of healing and reconciliation in the world. Perhaps we can make a beginning of living in a way that people can see the cross on our foreheads if each day we pray for just one person. Or, perhaps reach out to someone in need: someone hungry, thirsty, or a total stranger seeking a new life, a better life. Or, by giving up one thing, one habit, one opinion about others. By giving up a little of our lives, and living into the life of Christ. It may even mean letting go of how we see Jesus, and like Peter, get behind him, and begin to see him in a whole new way. We are on Holy Ground. We can live kingdom lives here and now, if only we will let the cross we already carry lead the way!

https://youtu.be/egCBkz25_wc?si=Hi2YYBq5CM9t6rnq

Tell No One I Am The Messiah Proper 16A

 He sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

-Matthew 16:13-20

As I pondered this admonition, I was reading some ancient Zen poetry on the beach. I ran across this by the real or imagined Lao Tzu who begins his opus, the Dao De Jing like this:

“Dao defined is not the constant Dao;

No name names the Eternal Name.

The un-named is the origin of heaven and earth.

Named it is the Mother of Ten Thousand Things!”

 One can attempt to determine just what “the Mother of Ten Thousand Things” may have meant four centuries before the time of Jesus. Or, we can imagine just what the plain text says. Which suggests to me, that once we name someone or something, as the first man, Adam, named all the animals; that once we name the “origin of heaven and earth,” the mischief of religions, world views and ideologies, and their attending “certainties” about that being (Being) begins. Ten thousand thousand ways to disagree, quibble and divide ourselves not only from one another, but ultimately from the Being, the Source, the Origin of heaven and earth, the creator of all things seen and unseen. Jesus seems to know this. He knows that naming someone or something confers some power to the namer. 

It has been suggested that although the Greek word for “sin” in the New Testament is borrowed from the ancient world of archery, and means “to miss the mark,” “to miss the target,” that too easily makes us think it is all about behavior, rules, ethics, a quantified way of being – such as the Ten Commandments, which many in the historic Jewish community call The Ten Suggestions! 

Rather, the mark that is most often being missed, and appears to be the singular concern of one Jesus of Nazareth in Galilee, which may be summed up in his words: we are to love God with all our mind, heart and all our love,  and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Sometime  later he adds, “in your spare time, love your enemies and pray for those who hate you –  and try to be perfect as God is perfect.” 

When he asks his disciples who people think he is, they name all the things he is not: he is not John the Baptist; he is not one of the prophets; he is not Elijah. Even when Simon Peter, he who stepped out of the boat, walked on the water toward Jesus, lost his faith and his nerve and begin to sink beneath the surf; even when Peter says, “You are the Christos,” which means anointed, which is “messiah” or “maschiach,” in Hebrew, Jesus tells them all not to say this to anyone. Of course this is tantamount to saying, “I know you are all going to blab this around town even though I am telling you not to. This will cause much trouble for us all.” And those of us who know the rest of the story know very well, that is exactly what happens. 

It's as if Jesus knew what Lao T’zu had warned some four hundred years or so prior to this little pow-wow outside of a town called Caesaria – which, by its very name, itself foreshadows the dangers that lie ahead once that which cannot be named is named. Almost immediately, after his prohibition not to say a thing, the cat is out of the bag, and all sorts of characters, most especially Caesar’s Empire of Brutality and Violence, wants him dead and buried. 

The New Revised Standard Version Bible and the BCP 1979 have changed all references to “Christos,” or “Christ,” to “messiah,” and the mischief persists – as if Jesus, God or the Dao can somehow or other in any way be the sole possession of any single religion, world view or ideology without causing endless problems – problems which Jesus means to avoid at all costs. 

The change in our Bibles and our Prayer Book flies in the face of his prohibition. It causes  similar kinds of mischief as it did way back then. Back then people expected very specific kinds of messiahs: a warrior to drive out the Romans; a judge to sort out the good from the bad; an apocalyptic character to end the current age and begin the world all over again, to name but a few. 

Then there is the relationship between Christianity and Judaism. Since Jesus fits no prior notion of what a messiah, God’s anointed, is to be like, it is difficult, if not impossible, for the Jewish world to agree that he is. The Church’s response to this is, “Well, he is a different kind of Messiah.” While many, if not most Jews, who are waiting for messiah to come, say, “When messiah comes, and it turns out to be Jesus, we will gladly get on board!” Others have said, “Well, the world looks about the same before and after Jesus, so how could he be The Messiah?” 

Jesus appears to have some idea that if this notion of Peter’s gets out, it will take all the focus off of his primary program: to love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves. And we know his definition of “neighbor” knows no bounds, no limits. As the familiar hymn says it, “All are neighbors for us and you.” 

That is, Jesus, who does not want to be identified as “messiah,” similarly, does not want to divide people up into good vs bad, healthy vs sick, abled vs disabled, native vs foreigner, straight vs LGBTQ+, male vs female, poor vs rich, us vs them. It is the very naming, categorizing, and labeling of others that causes us to become fearful and afraid of what we might call, for lack of a better name, “otherness.” Fear of “otherness” is our problem, not the other persons problem. Fear of “otherness” is the Mother of Ten Thousand Thousand problems in this world. 

All of which can change if, as we say in our Baptismal Covenant, we vow to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourself.” It’s always the pesky word “all” that trips us up. Not most, not many, most certainly not a few, but “all persons.” 

How might we learn to seek, see and serve the Christ, the Jesus, the God, the Dao that is in everyone and everything? It has been suggested that we give up any and all notions that “I am a self.” When we allow ourselves to drop whatever mask, whatever notions, that somehow I am not like everybody else, we might just begin to see, seek and serve the Christos in others as we would like to be seen, sought and served by others. It’s worth a try. 

As Mike Royko, a Chicago Daily News columnist I grew up reading, often put it, “I may be wrong, but I doubt it!”

The Night Sea Journey Proper 14A

 The Night Sea Journey

As the saga of Joseph son of Jacob begins, one notes: “Jacob settled in the land where his father had lived as an alien, the land of Canaan.” [i] The storyteller reminds us one and all of the care the Lord God of Israel has for aliens and strangers: because we all were strangers in a new land once upon a time. We tend to migrate. It’s what we do. It’s part of what it means to be human. This theme is reprised in Exodus when, thanks to brother Joseph who holds no grudge against his brothers who want to kill him, finds them a new home as aliens in the strange land of Egypt. After they escape Pharoh’s Egypt, Moses reminds them to always welcome the alien, the foreigner and the stranger: “For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing. You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt” [ii]

 

Because two of the brothers, Reuben and Judah, stand up to the rest, instead of killing Joseph because they don’t like his favored status with dad, and even more they don’t like his coat of very long sleeves, they sell him for a profit to Ishmaelites, descendants of Abraham’s first son, who one day become the people of Islam. Note, despite the popularity of Donny Osmond who has currently been held over in Vegas (another sort of strange land!), the coat was not made of “many colors.” That turns out to have been a poor translation leftover from the King James project. After his trials in the land of Pharaoh’s Egypt, Joseph becomes something like Secretary of State and helps Jacob and the other eleven sons, daughters, daughters-in-law and many many grandchildren, to escape famine in Canaan and live a life as slaves in Egypt where at least they get to eat leek soup every day! One might also note: there is no mention of God in this narrative. In fact, it is a fairly mundane tale of sibling rivalry. Until. Until Joseph demonstrates what the forgiveness, compassion and love of God really looks like. There is no place for grudges in the story of God’s people.

 

Then there is chapter 14 in Matthew, which includes what one commentator and a psychologist, Fritz Kunkel, calls The Night Sea Journey. The back story. Jesus is worn out. After hearing that John the Baptist had lost his head, he tries to get away to be alone with God his Father. But the Sea of Galilee being a relatively small lake, people saw where he was going, and tracked him down to hear what new teachings he might convey. The disciples try to get him to send the folks home to fend for dinner on their own. Poppycock, says he! Feed them yourselves! They whine: we only have five loaves and two fish. Sighhhh. Hand them over to me, says he. After inviting folks to sit down, he takes the loaves, blesses the loaves, breaks the loaves and gives all that they have away. Everyone ate and were full. There were twelve baskets of leftovers. The number of people who ate were 5,000 men, not to mention women and children. Make of this what you will, but it is not out of the realm of possibility that once Jesus and the disciples took, blessed, broke and gave away all that they had, others may have been inspired to do the same.

 

Once again he tries to get some time alone. He dismisses the crowds, tells the disciples to get in the boat and go to the other side of the lake, while he goes up on a mountain to pray – to talk with Abba, his Father, and ours. As the sun sets in the west, he is finally all alone. Not for long.

 

A storm erupts over the lake. The boat is battered by waves, and the headwind impedes their progress. They are stranded, far from land. Proving once again that there is no rest for the weary, the next morning Jesus walks across the sea to greet the lads. They are terrified! It’s a ghost, they cry! “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

 

Peter, never missing the teachable moment, says, “Oh yeah! If it’s you, command me to walk to you on the water!” Jesus says, “Come.” Peter steps out of the boat and begins to walk toward Jesus. On the water! Suddenly, Peter remembers that it is windy, he gets frightened and begins to sink beneath the surf. “Help me, Lord! Save me Lord! Help me! I’m going down!” Immediately, without hesitation, Jesus reaches out his hand and brings Peter back up, saying, “You of little faith; why do you doubt?” As soon as they get back in the boat, the wind ceases. Like a Greek chorus of twelve the disciples cry out, “Truly you are the Son of God.” No doubt Jesus is thinking, “Feeding five thousand men, not to mention women and children, with five loaves and two fish was not good enough to convince you that I am who I am?”

 

There is still no rest for the weary. They go ashore. Everyone there recognizes immediately who he is. They bring all the halt, sick and the lame to him. And all who touched the hem of his cloak were healed.

 

These strange stories were told by Matthew at a time when not only was Jesus long gone, but the Temple and all of Jerusalem, and much of Israel, was in ruins as the Roman Legions crushed the Jewish rebellion. People, whole families, whole tribes, were displaced. There can be no doubt, people were frightened like Peter on the lake – like Joseph, sold off to the sons of Ishmael and carted off to Egypt. It is a long dark night for everyone. Everyone is as hungry as the people on one side of the lake. Everyone is seeking healing of some kind on the other side. The life of faith has become one long Night Sea Journey. What are we to do. We struggle against the wind and the waves until we remember who we are and whose we are; until we reach out and ask for help; until we trust one another enough to love one another.

 

We all know what it’s like to be strangers in a strange land. Like Jacob, we all live as aliens in the land. We all know what it’s like to be a stranger. To feel alone. Not like everyone else. We all know what it’s like when everything looks to be going down beneath the waves; when everything seems to be stalled heading into a mighty wind; when resources appear ridiculously small. We read these stories to remember: there is a hand that can take, bless, break and give us what we really need – a helping hand, a morsel of bread, a brother or sister who has every reason to hate us, but who reminds us to love one another, no matter what.

 

Jacob lived as an alien in his father’s land. All of us do. People are hungry for bread and healing of all manner of dis-ease. Like the Jacob, Joseph and Peter, we are all on a Night Sea Journey of faith. Jesus walks towards us. What does he say? How do we respond? Do we take his hand? Do we touch the hem of his garment? Do we follow him wherever he goes? Do we strive to do the things that he does? And greater things than these?

 

As the apostle Paul once said, the entire universe stands on tiptoe in anticipation to see what we, the daughters and sons of God, will do.  [iii]

---

[i] Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28

[ii] Deuteronomy 10: 17-21

[iii] Romans 8:19

Transfiguration As Universal Christ and Bodhichitta: The Awakened Heart August 6

Transfiguration As Universal Christ and Bodhichitta: The Awakened Heart

I have long been haunted by the fact that The Feast of the Transfiguration is the day the United States of America chose to drop the first atomic bomb on the citizens of Hiroshima. Of that day, John Hershey wrote, “At exactly fifteen minutes past eight in the morning, on August 6, 1945, Japanese time, at the moment when the atomic bomb flashed above Hiroshima….Mrs. Hatsuyo Nakamura, a tailor’s widow, stood by the window of her kitchen watching a neighbor tearing down his house because it lay in the path of an air-raid-defense fire lane…Father Wilhelm Kleinsorge, a German priest of the Society of Jesus, reclined in his underwear on a cot on the top floor of his order’s three-story mission house, reading a Jesuit magazine, Stimmen der Zeit…” [i] 

“As Mrs. Nakamura stood watching her neighbor, everything flashed whiter than any white she had ever seen…the reflex of a mother set her in motion toward her children…she took one step…when something picked her up and she seemed to fly into the next room…was buried in the rubble of her house…she heard a child cry…started to frantically claw her way toward the baby, she could see or hear nothing of her other children…then, from what seemed to b caverns below, she heard two small voices, crying, ‘Help! Help!” [ii] They were survivors. Of the 245,000 people, a hundred thousand were killed instantly, and another hundred thousand were wounded. 

Storyteller Luke tells us that atop a mountain, Jesus shined whiter than any white anyone had ever seen. Peter, James and John see him speaking to Moses and Elijah about his “exodos”, his exodus, his great escape, his exit. Moses and Elijah are experts on dramatic exits. We note that this blazing white Jesus is literally traveling through time to confer with these ancient heroes of Isarael. This is the first appearance of what Franciscan Richard Rohr calls the Universal Christ. Up to now, Luke has written about the man, Jesus. Now these three disciples see the Universal Christ, what Rohr calls “the Spirit of Christ,” which is not the same as the person of Jesus. 

Rohr says the Spirit of Christ is essentially “God’s love for the world”, which has existed since before the beginning of time. This Spirit of Christ suffuses everything in creation, and has been present in all cultures and civilizations. Jesus, on the other hand, is a human incarnation of this Universal Christ, and Rohr suggests that following him may be for some the “best shortcut” to accessing God’s love for the world. Rohr also believes that this love can also be found through the practices of other religions like Buddhist meditation, or through communing with nature. [iii] 

Indeed, Pema Chodron, a Buddhist teacher at Gampo Abbey, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, the first Tibetan monastery in North America, observes that in stories like the transfiguration, spiritual awakening is often described as a journey to the top of a mountain. We leave our attachments and worldliness behind and slowly make our way to the top. We imagine that at the peak we transcend all pain and suffering. But there is a problem with this metaphor. We end up leaving all the others behind – our drunken brother, our schizophrenic sister, our tormented animals and friends. Their suffering persists, unrelieved by our personal escape. 

Chodron offers another view, focused on what Buddhists call bodhichitta, “an awakened or noble heart.” In difficult and suffering times, it is said that bodhichitta can heal. When loneliness, fear and feeling misunderstood becomes the heartbeat of all things, the heart of all sadness, bodhichitta cannot be lost. Bodhichitta is here in all that lives, never marred and completely whole. Bodhichitta sounds similar to Rohr’s Universal Christ – what the Gospel of John calls the Word, the Logos, which is the light and the life in all creation. 

Chodron suggests that in fact the process to discover bodhichitta is a journey that goes down, not up. “It’s as if the mountain points down to the center of the earth, instead of reaching into the sky. Instead of transcending the suffering of all creatures, we move toward the turbulence and doubt. We jump into it. We slide into it. We tiptoe into it. We move toward it however we can. We explore the reality and unpredictability of insecurity and pain, and we try not to push it away. If it takes years, if it takes lifetimes, we let it be as it is. At our own pace, without speed or aggression, we move down and down and down. With us move millions of others, our companions in awakening from fear. At the bottom we discover water, the healing water of bodhichitta. Right down there in the thick of things, we discover the love that will not die.” [iv] 

The Universal Christ on top of the mountain is the love that never dies down, down, down in the midst of our suffering and worldliness. God’s love is for the world. The whole world. The whole world God has in God’s hands! Indeed, the story of the Transfiguration continues with Jesus and his three disciples going down the mountain, where he, Jesus, is confronted by a man whose son is having seizures. Jesus rebukes the unclean spirit in the boy, heals him, and gives him back to his father. All present are astounded at the greatness of God. The love that will not die, the bodhichitta, the awakened heart, the Universal Christ, God’s love for the world since before the beginning of time - this love was in evidence and demonstrated its healing power down, down, down at the foot of the mountain. This is where the transfiguration of the world happens. 

Near the end of his account of that day in Hiroshima, John Hershey returns to the story of the Jesuit priests: “Months later, [after recovering in the hospital] Father Kleinsorge and the other German Jesuit priests…often discussed the ethics of using the bomb. One of them…wrote in a report to the Holy See in Rome: ‘Some of us consider the bomb in the same category as poison gas and were against its use on a civilian population. Others were of the opinion that in total war, as carried on in Japan, there was no difference between civilians and soldiers, and that the bomb itself was an effective force tending to end the bloodshed, warning Japan to surrender and thus to avoid total destruction. It seems logical that he who supports total war in principle cannot complain of a war against civilians. The crux of the matter is whether total war in its present form is justifiable, even when it serves a just purpose. Does it not have material and spiritual evil as its consequences which far exceed whatever good might result? When will our moralists give us a clear answer to this question?’” [v] 

That day on the mountain top, a dark cloud came over the disciples and over the whole mountain. From the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Beloved; listen to him!” Jesus was there alone. He and his disciples call us to go down, and down, and down the mountain with them, and with newly awakened hearts share the Universal Christ’s love for the world that never dies, with all those who are left behind, the lonely, lost, afraid, and suffering ….

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[i] Hershey, John, Hiroshima, (Alfred A Knopf, NYC::1946) p. 1-2

[ii] Ibid, p.13

[iii] Griswold, Eliza, “Richard Rohr Reorders the Universe,”5 February 2, 2020

[iv] Chodron, Pema, The Pocket Pema Chodron (Shambala, Boston:2008) p.86-87

[v] Ibid Hershey, p.117-118

Pears of Great Value: Today you are special!

 Pearls of Great Value: You Are Special Today!

In 1936, Hailie Selassi, Emperor of Ethiopia from 1930 to 1974 gave a speech before the League of Nations in 1936. Ethiopia was a member state. The far-right Fascist Benito Mussolini of Italy had invaded and made Ethiopia part of the Italian Empire. The speech is considered by many one of the most important of the 20^th Century, despite the failure of the League to rush to Ethiopia’s  aid. In addition to his prescient declaration, “today it is us, tomorrow it will be you,” he said the following:

“On the question of racial discrimination…that until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned; that until there are no longer first class and second class citizens of any nation; that until the color of a man's skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes; that until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race; that until that day, the dream of lasting peace and world citizenship and the rule of international morality will remain but a fleeting illusion, to be pursued but never attained.” The result: no response. We now know that much of Europe would soon be under Axis-Fascist domination, and later under the Totalitarian domination of The Soviet Union. In October, 1963, Emperor Selassie renewed his call to equality and human rights at the United Nations, acknowledging the progress the Kennedy administration was making in civil rights. Just a month later, President Kennedy was assassinated.

Fast forward: In Jamaica, 1976, Bob Marley echoed the words of Selassie in his song, War:

Until the philosophy which hold one race

Superior and another Inferior

Is finally and permanently

Discredited and abandoned

Everywhere is war

Me say war

That until there are no longer

First-class and second-class citizens of any nation

Until the colour of a man's skin

Is of no more significance than the colour of his eyes

Me say war

That until the basic human rights

Are equally guaranteed to all

Without regard to race

There is war 

Marley was correct. Human rights had and have continued to be an unattainable dream, and the result is still,  “everywhere is war.” 

On the night of October 3^rd, 1992, a young woman who had been abused as a child by her mother; who had spent time in one of the infamous Irish Magdelene laundries for “fallen women;” was invited to sing on Saturday Night Live. Sinead O’Connor sang acapella, in what sounds like Gregorian or Anglican chant, as she delivered her own version of Marley’s War, adding a verse about child abuse:

Until the ignoble and unhappy regime

Which holds all of us through

Child abuse, yeah, child abuse, yeah,

Subhuman bondage has been toppled

Utterly destroyed

Everywhere is war

Children, Children

Fight

We find it necessary

We know we will win

We have confidence in the victory

of good over evil 

At that point she ripped a photo of Pope John Paul II three times, then said:

“Fight the real enemy!” Silence. The audience was stunned. Her career in music effectively ended that night. She knew it would. But she did not want to be a pop star. She did not want to make money for the music industry. She wanted to fight evil, and in particular the evil of child abuse. She was banned from NBC for life. Her performance has been removed from the official SNL video Archives. A week later SNL made her performance the subject of a skit as Joe Pesci held up the photo, taped back together, and said, “It wasn’t my show, but if it had been my show I would have gave (sic) her a smack!” That video remains in the SNL video archive. Sinead died this week at the age of 56. Far short of seeing meaningful attempts to eliminate child abuse. 

In her 2021 memoir, Rememberings, she writes, “A lot of people say or think that tearing up the Pope’s photo derailed my career. That’s not how I feel about it. I feel that having a No 1 record derailed my career and my tearing the photo put me back on the right track.” That track was to work for a world that recognizes the rights of every person. To put an end to child abuse. She believed in the words of the late Emperor of Ethiopia, “that until that day, the dream of lasting peace and world citizenship and the rule of international morality will remain but a fleeting illusion.” 

It would be sixteen years after her SNL appearance, , July 19, 2008, that the Catholic Church issued an apology for the ongoing child abuse by Catholic clergy. As of Sunday, July 30, 2023, it has been 11,257 days since Sinead made her prophetic demonstration on SNL, not unlike the kinds of demonstrations of the prophet Ezekiel. Those of us in Maryland know we are still trying to get a fully unredacted account of what has happened in the Baltimore Archdiocese over the last century. It’s a shame that Sinead died before a full confession and accounting will be made. 

I bring this up because in our gospel for today Jesus says, “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.” The Reverend William Rich, a priest from our diocese, once suggested in a meditation at a silent retreat in the Diocese of Connecticut: God values every single one of us. We are God’s beloved! Each and every one of us is the Pearl of Great Value. If there is anything that the church can teach us, it is just this: every single person is a Pearl of Great Value. For whom God “sold”, gave, everything to purchase us. To redeem us. To keep us. To free us from all bondage. To heal us from all harm. To remind us just who we are and whose we are. We are all, in God’s eyes, pearls of great value. 

In a related posting on Facebook this past week, an elementary and high school friend posted a photo of a cake plate her mother had painted years ago. It was her birthday, and she was having strawberry shortcake on this plate. Around the rim of the plate her mother had painted the words, “You are special today.” How wonderful is that? I thought. 

Since seeing that photo I try to imagine all of us having such a plate. I imagine all of us having a piece of cake, or pie, or strawberry shortcake on such a plate every day as we look at the words, “You are special today!” I try to imagine how much easier Sinead O’Connor’s life might have been if she had had such a plate as a child. I try to imagine how much closer we might be to Emperor Selassie’s dream of that day when the world recognizes the rights of every person. I try to imagine how much closer we might be to Jesus’s dream of the kingdom of heaven on earth, if each of us just had a plate that says, “You are special today!” Jesus says to us, “The kingdom of heaven is at hand.” If only we could hold such a plate in our hands every day, and believe just how special each of us is. We would know we will win. We would have confidence in the victory of good over evil. A dream that has persisted since 1936, since 1976, since 1992, since the time of Jesus Christ, will one day become a reality, thanks to the lives of people like Haile Selassie, Bob Marley, Sinead O’Connor, and the community of Saints. Amen.

I Will Not Leave You Proper 11A

 I Will Not Leave You

“I will not leave you,” says the Lord God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, to Jacob. Jacob the trickster who is on the run. Having effectively stolen the birthright of his older brother Esau, their mother has warned Jacob that Esau is out for revenge and urges him to flee. He is a fugitive; He is all alone. He takes a stone for a pillow to catch some sleep before continuing his flight. He has no idea what he has gotten himself into. He knows nothing of the promise to Abraham and Isaac. He knows not where he is going or what he is to do. He only knows that he is alone and on the run. Or, so he thinks.

 

Lying there he suddenly feels the brush of angel’s wings on his face. Looking up he sees stairs of some kind leading up to the heavens, with angels ascending and descending. It must be mesmerizing. Astonishing really. Before he can even begin to understand, there, standing beside him is YHWH, Adonai, the Lord God of Abraham his grandfather, and Isaac his father talking about a promise he is to carry on behalf of his family, but more importantly on behalf of the entire human family. “I will give this land upon which you land to you, and to your offspring; your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth; all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go… I will not leave you…” [i]

 

Suddenly, as he wakes up, for the first time in his life, Jacob knows he is not alone, and has never been alone. He is overwhelmed with the palpable presence of the Lord. He erects a pillar with the stone that was his pillow. He names the place, Bethel – Beth-el, the home of God. Forgetting, perhaps, that God did not say he was in the place. The Lord had said, “I am with you and will keep you wherever you are! I will not leave you.” Jacob seems not to fully grasp that he is a tabernacle of the Lord. Jacob is Beth-el, a home for God.

 

Like Jacob, we often make the same mistake. We tend to think that God is in some place. And why not? How could God be with me wherever I am? We begin our worship each week, “Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desire known, and from you no secrets are hid…”[ii] We sometimes think it is we who can open or close our hearts, when it is Almighty God who does the opening, because as it is for Jacob, the Lord is with us and keeps us wherever we go. God is with us – Emmanuel, God with us. Jacob thinks he is alone, but God is telling him, no, you are part of an “us.” You are essential to the community of my people on Earth. To make it even more clear, God eventually, after an all-night wrestling match with Jacob, renames him Israel – he who strives with God – and that God’s presence is in the community, the family, the clan that Jacob is to become with descendants like the dust to the earth.

 

God opens our hearts – we who are among the descendants that are like the dust of the earth! We who are gathered in this place to be a blessing to all the families of the Earth. We who become tabernacles of the Lord as we eat his flesh and drink his blood. We who feed on him in our hearts by faith, and thanksgiving. We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

 

There can be no more powerful expression of all of this than Psalm 139. [iii] “O, Lord, you have searched me out, and You know!” You know all the movements of my life: when I sit, when I stand, even when I lie down in my “resting places.” And there is no escaping the presence of the Lord, whether we were to shoot out into furthest regions of the universe, or be hidden deep beneath the surface of the Earth. “Even there your hand will lead me and your right hand hold me fast.” Even in the darkest of hours, whenever we feel as alone, or on the run like Jacob, the Psalmist reminds us, “Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day; darkness and light to you are both alike.” Then even though this is the Lord who opens hearts and from whom no secrets are hid, the Psalmist urges us to invite the Lord to, “Search me out, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my restless thoughts. Look well whether there be any wickedness in me and lead me in the way that is everlasting.” We are to be those people who want, who desire, that the Lord search out our hearts, to weed out any and all wickedness, so we might without fear be lead in the way that is everlasting – everlasting life and light; so that we might truly be a blessing to all the peoples of the Earth.

 

Jesus appears to reflect on Psalm 139 as he tells the parable of the wheat that has been compromised with weeds sown by some nefarious source of wickedness. [iv] Yet, Jesus cautions not to be distracted by the weeds. Not to waste time and possibly damage the good wheat, the good news, by pulling the weeds ourselves. Attend with your hearts to the way that is everlasting. Move forward with the Lord who knows! Who knows us, and who knows the way. All else is a distraction from the promise of becoming a blessing for all the peoples of the Earth.

 

It has been suggested that if we would take the time each day for 30 days to read Psalm 139, our lives will be changed. And the life of all the peoples of the Earth will be blessed.  If nothing else, the psalm reminds us that our God will never leave us. We are not alone. That our God will open our hearts, weed out the wickedness, and help us to become ambassadors of God’s promise to all peoples of the Earth. Read this once a day for 30 days and see. And know. The Lord is with us and keeps us wherever we are. Yesterday, today and tomorrow. Amen.

 

1 Lord, you have searched me out and known me; *

you know my sitting down and my rising up;

you discern my thoughts from afar.

2 You trace my journeys and my resting-places *

and are acquainted with all my ways.

3 Indeed, there is not a word on my lips, *

but you, O Lord, know it altogether.

4 You press upon me behind and before *

and lay your hand upon me.

5 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; *

it is so high that I cannot attain to it.

6 Where can I go then from your Spirit? *

where can I flee from your presence?

7 If I climb up to heaven, you are there; *

if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.

8 If I take the wings of the morning *

and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

9 Even there your hand will lead me *

and your right hand hold me fast.

10 If I say, "Surely the darkness will cover me, *

and the light around me turn to night,"

11 Darkness is not dark to you;

the night is as bright as the day; *

darkness and light to you are both alike.

22 Search me out, O God, and know my heart; *

try me and know my restless thoughts.

23 Look well whether there be any wickedness in me *

and lead me in the way that is everlasting.

 

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[i] Genesis 28:10-19a

[ii] Book of Common Prayer (1979) p. 355

[iii] Psalm 139: 1-11, 22-23, BCP p. 704

[iv] Matthew 13:24-30,36-43

 

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