Radical prayers, radical declaration, radical theology

Easton, Pennsylvania was one of the first places to hear the Declaration of Independence read in public, on the Sunday after its' passage. So the first Sunday after Independence Day is celebrated in our town as "Heritage Day." Trinity, Easton does a ton of activities for Heritage Day: after an ecumenical worship service, we go hear the Declaration read. Trinity will hold a Festival of Patriotic Songs...and we'll open the church for tours, we have a concession stand on Center Square and in the evening is Sitgreaves Coffee House in the parish hall followed by fireworks.

So for us in Easton, our celebration of Independence Day is a kind of tip of the hat to mass communication, 18th Century Style...acknowledging how long it took for the document to make it's way up the Delaware from Philadelphia.

What I did not know was that "The first reading of the Declaration of Independence outside of a governmental setting was in William White's living room, to the vestry of Christ Church, Philadelphia."

My bishop, Paul Marshall of Bethlehem, included this factoid in a reflection on the special and radical nature of the Episcopal Church's inclusion of Independence Day as one of our main feasts of the Church as well as the radical nature of the Declaration itself.

Here are some excerpts:

Monday is a red-letter day in our calendar (=holy day of obligation), although sadly, it is not observed by some rectors.

I BELIEVE THAT THE PATRIOTIC OBLIGATION of our time is return to Stoic values of character rather than epicurean characteristics of greed, narcissism, or entitlement, as the defining mark of an American citizen. We are really not called to be an extension of the British bourgeoisie, the Gilded Age notwithstanding. If you want to observe the long weekend meaningfully, deny yourself something big, spend time relating to your loved ones, and do not purchase anything except food and a little fuel. If your town has a patriotic exercise of some kind, attend it--with your children and grandchildren. If you possibly can, make something by hand or personally pack a box for Good Will.

If you don't have a church service available on Independence Day, you might set aside a moment to give thanks for this extraordinary land and to contemplate for a moment the collect for the day:

"Lord God Almighty, in whose Name the founders of this country won liberty for themselves and for us, and lit the torch of freedom for nations then unborn: Grant, we beseech thee, that we and all the people of the this land may have grace to maintain these liberties in righteousness and peace, through Jesus Christ our Lord," etc.

What I like about this prayer it that it assumes that the perception of liberty (as opposed to mere freedom) is an evolving concept, and one that needs diligent preservation as it develops and spreads. Democrat or Republican, the last two administrations and five congresses have trod heavily on our liberties and need a bit of patriotic smacking down. (I imagine a sherry- not a tea-party here.) Politics is about the acquisition of power; democracy is about its dispersal, and there is no middle ground. I predict that my grandchildren will live under a kind of plutocratic fascism (with small hints of socialism as a sop to the masses) unless our citizens have a spiritual and social revival. The Koch brothers and the tax-and-spend people all need to be controlled. The legislature needs to reign in a rogue Supreme Court. A thoughtful church could lead such a movement toward self-control...

...Those of us who have lost loved-ones, or seen them maimed, in the defense of our national values cannot let our nation further decay into hedonism, socialism, or oligarchy. Unlike most of the UK's former colonies, we were formed as a nation on theologically self-evident principles. We need to insist that those whom we elect begin once again to honor those principles without sensational rhetoric or scapegoating.

In a post-script, Bishop Paul reflects on the Declaration of Independence itself.

Of course, the writers of the Constitution weren't quite happy with that "abolish" part--it is illegal to speak of overthrowing our government the way we overthrew the colonial oppressors, no matter how far the government strays. 'Twas ever thus. Thus the need for the sherry party. Or Harriet Beecher Stowe. Or both.

Conservative Christians of course choke on the idea that government gets its power from the governed, rather, than directly from God (so much for Paul and Luther). To be an American patriot is to be a theological revisionist. And we all know what that leads to.

Read it all here.

It's simple. What he did was harassment.

Okay. This is the first and last time I am going to weigh in on this. Now that Anthony Weiner has resigned...after one of the weirdest three weeks in American politics (and that's sayin' something)...I am amazed that all these writers, pundits and politicos have missed the core of what the former congressman did wrong.

Everyone, including Mr. Wiener, agrees that what he did was sleazy, wrong and stupid. Most think it was sleazy. Most put the wrongness in with the stupid because he both left a trail and got caught. But I have only heard one commentator and only one blogger (granted, I can't read them all) say clearly why Wiener needed to resign--if not go to jail.

It was not just the "sexting." Nor was it the pictures. It wasn't even lying after being caught. None of these things were "the problem" for which he needed to step down.

One can debate if he broke his marriage vows (I think he did) but even that is not the issue.

The problem was sexual harassment.

How did the congressman get the e-mails or twitter addresses of the women to whom he sent his pictures? They contacted him with a note saying "I really liked your speech" or "I really admire your stand on health care" or "Thank you for taking this or that stand on the House floor." And his response? A lewd text, tweet or picture.

He had access and opportunity to do what he did because of his position of power, and he abused that power for his own gratification.

A week ago, Wormwood's Doxy said it much better than me.

Anthony Weiner is a sexual harasser. He sent 21-year-old college student, Gennette Cordova, an unsolicited sexual photo of himself.

Unsolicited.

That’s really important—because it goes to the heart of what so many people do not seem to “get” about sexual harassment.

I’ve had this argument with more than one person over the last couple of days. I’ve argued with intelligent people—intelligent women, no less!—who have basically said to me, “I like his politics, so what he did doesn’t matter.” Or…even worse to me, in some ways: “It’s not sexual harassment unless you tell him to stop and he refuses.”

No.

NO.

HELL NO!!

Unless that young woman sent him a message saying “I want to see pictures of you naked,” he had no business sending her suggestive photos. She says she didn’t. Even he admits she didn’t. He says he sent the photo as “part of a joke.”

That makes him a sexual harasser.

That's why Weiner needed to resign.

How's that again?

I always thought it was "the Dali Lama walks up to a hot dog wagon and says to the guy...."



h/t to Church Mouse.

Joy!

I am, as some of you may know, a real fan of Rube Goldberg-type devices. This one is deceptive in its simplicity, and a strangely meditative take on an old favorite.

Spiritual energy put to work

The other day I passed a convoy of trucks driving north on Route 33 towards the Poconos. Each flatbed truck had a huge white piece of machinery on it. Soon I realized that these trucks were carrying the finished parts for a huge wind-turbine…we used to say wind mill. If you drive south out of Wilkes-Barre, you catch a glimpse of a few of these huge white propellers on towers that slowly turn producing electricity. Amazing, isn’t it? We can take the energy of the wind and turn into electricity.

Everyone is talking about energy…where to get it and how to use it. When I filled up my car the other day, I was aware that the cost of energy has gone up. I notice that there a few homes and businesses around that use the energy of the sun to heat or cool their buildings or make electricity of both.

One thing that separates humans from other creatures is that we are pretty good harnessing energy. One of our ancestors took the potential energy in wood and turned into a campfire for cooking. Someone first harnessed the energy of the wind to sail a ship or used a rushing river to turn a wheel to grind grain into wheat or drive a loom for cloth. We’ve unlocked energy from gas or coal to make things go. Now we’ve come full circle, with these great wind turbines that use the wind to make electricity.

Energy is all around us. The challenge for us is how to put it to work.

We have three pictures of Pentecost today. In one, we see potential spiritual energy. In another we see spiritual energy put to work. And in another we hear about the engine that makes it all go “vroom!”

In the Gospel of John, the disciples are in the upper room on that first Easter evening, and the Risen Jesus gives them the breath of the Holy Spirit and the authority to use it. That’s the first picture.

In Acts, we see the second image. The disciples along with other people from throughout the world were gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate the Jewish festival of Pentecost when “Fiery tongues appeared on them, and all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit." The Spirit ignited a new movement and a new people. The energy of the spirit was released and suddenly these people had power to overcome the former languages of division and competition with a new language of God's love and Spirit. The potential energy of the spirit was released and the church was born.

One of the most ancient hymns of the church goes like this, "Come, Holy Spirit, our souls inspire...and lighten with celestial fire." It is a prayer that the energy released on that first Pentecost day might continue to burn within the church. It is a prayer that God's spirit will continue in each of us and in the whole Body of Christ, so that we might live our faith with zest and commitment and do the work of mission boldly and imaginatively.

All the time, everyday Christians in everyday places are turning the potential spiritual energy we all have into amazing acts of courage, hope, and compassion that makes a real difference in the lives of people and communities. All of us can take the wind and fire of the Spirit that is burning in us—that started in our faith and baptism and is fed and banked as we practice the sacramental life—and put it to work guiding, inspiring, directing, renewing, advocating, re-making us in the very likeness of God, bringing mercy and compassion and hope to God’s people everywhere.

And that brings us to today’s third image of Pentecost in Paul’s letter to the Corinthian Christians. Here we learn what makes the whole thing go “vroom!” What makes the potential energy of John’s Gospel become the spiritual work of that first Pentecost in Acts is this turbine called the Body of Christ. “There are varieties of gifts,” Paul teaches, “but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” We are what God uses to turn spiritual energy into God’s work, and we are the ones whom God uses to make the lights go on in people’s lives.

Today is another busy day in the life of Trinity Church…a day that shows us how the wind of the Holy Spirit has turned the turbine of this parish to on lights in people’s lives. In a few minutes, we will give thanks to God for the leadership of Mike and Dotty Viglione who for over ten years chaired our Mission and Outreach committee and helped make this parish a remarkable powerhouse of compassion and imagination. With their faithful, prayerful leadership Trinity has come to be known as a place of caring and hope, where the potential spiritual energy of many in this parish is unlocked in ways that have made a real positive difference in the lives of people in Easton, in the diocese and around the world.

We will give thanks for the ministry of our choir who have in their prayer, their hard work and dedication enriched our worship and opened the creative, musical and poetic heart of God for many of us. So often this year, I have heard stories--and some of you have told me of stories you've heard or experienced-- of people whose hearts have been warmed in that strange way of the Holy Spirit and drawn people into closer relationship with God and each other in Christ.

And today we use for the first time two new chalices bought with All Saints Funds in memory of Helga Farrell who died and entered the larger life a year and a half ago. This gift will beautify our worship and tangibly feed and nourish us sacramentally. The potential energy of memory and story and will be weekly unleashed as God’s people are fed and nurtured and sent into the world renewed.

And that’s not all: Today groups will gather to continue work towards the fall bazaar and another group will plan next year’s children’s chapel. We have completed another Unbinding the Gospel group, with people who have discovered new ways to pray, and have shared their faith stories with one another. We are getting ready for a very active Heritage Day. This summer the Property Committee, led by Andrew Brodt—a Boy Scout working for the rank of Eagle—will renovate and repair the choir room. And there is so much more.

In these and many other ways, we show that what Paul told the Christians in Corinth is true: we have a variety of gifts, activated by the Holy Spirit to build up the body of Christ. This is how the real power of the Holy Spirit is unlocked and becomes new vision, new energy and new hope.

The ancient prayer is still "Come Holy Spirit, our souls inspire and lighten with celestial fire...." We all have in us the energy, the power of the Holy Spirit. The Risen Jesus breathed on the disciples on that first Easter and gave them the Holy Spirit. That same spirit comes to us and is sealed in us at baptism. But our prayer is that this spiritual energy will be unleashed. We yearn for God’s power to be let loose and light up our hearts and all creation, and make a real difference in the world. It turns out that God has a turbine, an engine, to make that work real and alive. We, the body of Christ, are the ones whom God uses to let loose God’s energy and make it all go “vroom!”

Pentecost, Year A: Acts 2:1-13, I Cor. 12:3b-13; John 20:18-23

Not "good-bye." A beginning.

This is not “good-bye.”

Jesus’ ascension is a moment of culmination and fulfillment and promise. But it is not good-bye.

At first blush, it sure looks as if Jesus is leaving… in our lesson from Acts, we hear about Jesus being taken up into heaven, and todays Gospel from John shows us Jesus talking about going back to the father…it sure sounds like “good-bye!”

When we hear the Ascension, especially as described in Acts, we can’t help but think of movies with a dramatic departure scene. Remember E.T. The Extra-terrestrial when he tells Eliot to “be good” before the tearful (and light filled) farewell? I like Casablanca when Rick and Lt. Renault walk off into the fog of what could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Jesus’ ascension is not “good-bye.” Jesus’ ascension is in a very real sense only the beginning.

Have you ever noticed how many Christians find ways of focusing on Jesus’ absence? A few weeks ago we were all caught up with the misguided antics of Pastor Harold Camping and his absolute certainty that the rapture would come on May 22nd. The whole silly ruckus reminded me of the disciples in Acts who look up at Jesus and say “now?”

Instead, the followers of Jesus are called back to earth and given a job: starting close to home in Jerusalem and then gradually spiraling out into the rest of the known world, they are to tell the Good News. Matthew’s Gospel says that they are to baptize and teach. This is not good-bye. It is a commissioning.

John’s Gospel, like the other three, is written to a resurrection community; a community to whom Jesus has given the reigns. John's is the last and the latest of the Gospels, written to a group of Christians who are more than a generation past the ministry of Jesus and even the apostles. The original witnesses are passing away and the church is now in it for the long haul.

So in the Gospel today, we hear Jesus praying a farewell prayer. John is teaching us about what Jesus is up to and what our job is. And he frames his description in terms of how estates were owned and run in the first and second century. God, in this prayer, is a patron—the owner of everything—like the owner of a farm or estate, to whom everything produced and sold belongs. Jesus is like the steward. He is the one to whom the job of doling out the master’s resources and seeing to it that everyone is on the job. As the steward of the estate, he is also the one who takes care of the people doing the work. We, the disciples for whom Jesus prays, are the ones who live on the estate and do the work. We receive the resources to do the job and benefits of being under the master’s protection.

To understand grace in the New Testament, one must understand that this was how life was structured in the first century. Someone owns. Someone oversees on behalf of the master and takes care of the ordinary folk. And the ordinary folk pay tribute the master and do his work. That’s how it was in the first century and for much of human history.

Today, we work differently. Today, we do not see ourselves as beholden to anyone, but to understand what Jesus is praying in John’s Gospel, we must recognize that this is how it worked in the first and second centuries. It was a world in terms of interdependent relationships where everyone had a role and a job.

Knowing that, we can now see the radical thing about Jesus’ prayer. In his prayer Jesus changes the relationships. He is going back to the father, and he will care for us. But now we disciples are now the stewards of creation. We are the people who represent the master. We are the ones in whose hands God places the estate.

The ascension is not “good-bye,” it is an Easter appearance and most of all a commissioning of God’s people to do God’s work in God’s world. The ascension is a beginning because now it is possible for Christ who reigns to fill and transform all creation.

Here is how we do that:

We are a praying people. We are a people that Christ prays for. Imagine if we understood ourselves as a people that Jesus prays for. That means we know that we are not alone and that we are able—not self-sufficient, but competent to do God’s work. We are a people who pray because we are being prayed for. Our pattern of worship and prayer shows us again and again that we are a people being prayed for and cared for. We become mindful of our relationship with God in Christ.

We are a witnessing people. What we do points to Christ. Ever notice how many Christians point to an angry, vengeful, judging God? These folks take all their fear, anger and disappointment, dress them up in divine clothing, and then in God’s name tell us what we are doing wrong. Being a witness for Christ is entirely different: being a witness when we show off how God empowers us for justice, changes people at their core, and builds up our gifts.

Witnessing is also something the community of the faithful does. Each of us alone witnesses to the resurrection and ascended Jesus who fills all things. And all of us together are witnesses, too. People see Christ in each of us and in all of us. No one of us expresses the fullness of Christ, no one of us shows off the power and transformation of Christ. We all do. Each of us whose lives God touches show off Christ together.

We are a compassionate people. Being the stewards and being the workers of God’s reign means that we see the world more and more as God sees. We acknowledge and are present to the real pain in this world. And we confront the things that divide us knowing that we are already one with Christ as Christ is one with God. And we look out for those that no one else cares about. We find that when we listen for God in the voices of the weak and the poor we find ourselves walking with Jesus. We find that the God who has lifted our burdens is also lifting the burdens of those around us.

In these ways we are present to the world and the people God has given us.

It is not “good-bye.” It is a beginning. Everything is completed. All preparations are done. The incarnation, the crucifixion, the resurrection means that God and creation are reunited. Christ reigns victorious. Now Jesus has invited us—called us—to share in the job of stewarding creation. We are the living signs of Christ’s presence in this broken world. We are the visible sign of God in Christ filling all things and making them whole. We participate in Christ’s healing of the cosmos one relationship at a time. Not “good-bye,” a beginning.

The Seventh Sunday of Easter: Acts 1:6-14; John 17:1-11

Image: h/t Liturgy. Info here.

Time to get out of the bubble

It was for me an Areopagus moment. Maybe you have had one of those? No, huh? I'll bet you might have, and didn't know it. My moment came when I was forced me out of my religious bubble and into the real world.

Last year I had an encounter that I still think about. Some of you may remember me talking about it. It happened one day last summer when I was walking through the mall. I was wearing my "official" clerical garb. I went to the cell phone kiosk to do something or other, and while I was there both another customer and the clerk treating me with a noticeable deference and even with good humor. After a lot of banter about phones with some religious humor thrown in, we parted company smiling.

As I was walking out of the mall, I saw a group of high school aged young men. One of them made eye contact with me and would not let go. This was not a friendly connection. His friends noticed his stare and turned to look. They all folded their arms and watched, waiting to see what would happen next.

He was wearing a black T-shirt that had on the front a red circle and slash over a cross over the caption "no bad religion." I decided that his stare and his shirt were connected. He was clearly trying to draw my attention. Maybe he wanted to stare me down. Instead, I decided to stop and ask about the shirt. After all, if I am going to wear the symbol of the church’s ordained ministry in public, I had better be able to take the brickbats as well as the bouquets.

I complimented him on his shirt. Then I asked him, “Tell me. What do you mean by ‘bad religion’?” What he said was "no bad religion, man!"

“Okay. I hear that. But what makes religion to you?” My hunch was that if the two of us could compare our lists of what constituted "bad religion", our lists would be more alike than different.

My list would start with violence and persecution perpetrated in God's name. I would also add the many examples of hatred that some justify on religious grounds. I also think that "bad religion" is religion that is uncritical or reactive or which puts institutional life ahead of people's well-being. Religion that excludes or belittles people based solely on race, gender or sexual orientation would be on my list of “bad religion.” Religion that doesn't drive us to leave a world better than how we found it is to me "bad religion".

Most of all, I wanted to know his story. What were his encounters with bad religion and what would constitute good religion to him? My hunch was that we probably shared a lot on that score, too--maybe more than he might have expected.

But we never got that far. His answer to my follow up query was only this: “Bad religion stinks.” (That’s not how he said it, but you get the idea.) And then he and his friends walked away. I guess he was not ready to step outside of his bubble, either. Which was a shame.

I thought of this as I read about the Paul’s encounter at the Areopagus, located on a place called Mars Hill in the ancient city of Athens, debating the philosophers in this religious marketplace. As I thought about the young man and his t-shirt in the mall—the Areopagus of our day—I realized that Paul stepped out his religious bubble and entered into a new world to share good news in a new way.

Paul had gone to Athens, the center of intellectual and religious life in Greece, and, for that matter, in the whole Roman world, to meet some friends. This was the place where Greeks worshipped their pantheon…their line-up of gods…they had a deity for every purpose…rain, war, fertility, you name it. To hedge their bets, they set up a temple to the god they had not discovered yet, the one that covered some reality that had not yet occurred to them.

In terms of religious experience, Paul may as well have been from another planet! Paul was a Jew—a Hellenized, cosmopolitan Jew, trained in both Greek philosophy and Hebrew tradition—and that meant that for him there is only one God. And the first commandment says that Jews only worshipped the one God and did not use idols of any kind. But he thought he knew who that Temple of the Unknown Deity might have pointed to.

Problem was that any one from the Greek and Roman world would have considered Paul at best strange and at worst a crazed zealot. Believing in only one God was foolhardy, narrow-minded and sacrilegious. They has strange and strict rules about food and things. Like all Jewish males, he was circumcised which was considered both gross and barbaric.

And Paul was one of those Christians who believed that God not only became human but that he died and rose again. He believed that everyone would experience resurrection someday.

Paul has some choices here.

He could have stayed away from Idol Central and stayed with his own kind. Which is what happened a lot: in many cities right up to our own day, people who think and worship alike often end up living in the same neighborhoods, or hang around the same pubs, or friend each other on Facebook.

Or he could have started trashing the place. Tearing down false idols certainly would have attracted attention! But he would have simply turned his space into an attack bubble...kind of like that thing that used to chase down Number 6 whenever the Prisoner tried to leave The Village. But he didn’t go there.

He could have just gone along to get along, as some of the folks back home in Jerusalem accused him of doing.

Instead, he chose to leave his bubble and engage them. He decided to tell them about Jesus of Nazareth, the messiah who lived and died and rose again. He decided to talk about how God was at work through Christ and wanted a relationship with everyone.

And if any kind of real meeting was to take place, everyone would have to step out of their bubble...at least a little bit.

Where do we start? How can we communicate the Gospel with any kind of effectiveness when we are all floating around in our own little bubbles? Paul’s encounter teaches us a few things.

The main thing is that all of us—each and every one of us—communicates the Gospel. Like it or not, once someone figures out that you are a Christian and that you take your religion even a little bit seriously, then you are communicating the Gospel. You don’t have to ring doorbells. And you don’t need to wear a clerical collar or a habit. Every day we all communicate the Gospel.

That’s good because, as Paul noticed about the Athenians, everyone is on a search for God. Know it or not, every one of us seeks meaning and purpose for their living. And when we do that, we are seeking to fill a God-shaped space in our hearts. And since that search is not always conscious, it affects our choices and behavior. So our quest for intimacy is also a quest to be known and loved. Our quest for more stuff is also a yearning to have our hearts filled. Our quest for recognition reflects a longing to be understood and valued. I could go on, but you get the idea.

Just as Paul looked around and saw in all the idols and temples a religious people yearning for meaning, purpose and connection, we can look around and see a lot of spiritually hungry people.

Today's Aeropagus is everywhere, not just on Mars Hill and not just in the mall. Only 17% of Americans go to church, synagogue or mosque, and yet the Gallup people tell us that 90+% of Americans think of themselves as spiritual. 78% say they pray and three quarters of Americans say they believe in God. So, just as we always communicate the Gospel, there are people all around us who are searching to fill a god-shaped space in their lives. We could rest on advertising or Facebook to get out the message and hope people step into our bubble. But as important as marketing is, it is not really what tells the story.

What fills the God-shaped space is when one person meets another person who is also on a journey of faith; because Jesus shows us that Godself is best shown in relationship.

God calls each of us—seeker and believer—to step out of our safe zones and to explore discovering God in the real world.

That means that, sooner or later we will have to step outside our bubble. Maybe you won’t encounter the stares of young men wearing t-shirts the way I did. But you might encounter a thank you from a person you’ve cared for, or driven to the hospital, or brought a meal to. You might have helped fill a God-shaped hole when you listened to a person when they were sad, or comforted them when they were alone. Maybe you have communicated the Gospel as you have been present to a person in trouble or as you have taught a child.

And you’ll know you’re out of the bubble when you have to name who it is you are serving and why. Maybe you’ll be asked why you did that small act of kindness. Maybe someone will tell you of a need and you will offer to pray for them. Or maybe in some small way you’ll be asked about God who animates and fills that space in your heart. Maybe you will have a talk about how you can have both strong faith and big questions at the very same time. Whatever happens, we all have the power to be a messenger of good news in the middle of God’s hurting world. Whether they ask you why you’re doing it or not, it will help you be and live the Gospel when you know the story of how God is filling your God-shaped space.

Sooner or later, you’ll have to leave the bubble.


6 Easter A, May 29, 2011 - Acts 17:22-31

The Slee memo and the Feast of St. Augustine of Canterbury

Yesterday, Andrew Brown wrote a report in Guardian describing a memo from the late Dean of Southwark Cathedral, the Very Rev Colin Slee, in which Slee describes the machinations of the House of Bishops in the Church of England over the question of whether a gay man can be elevated to the Episcopate.

It is not a pretty picture. We see the Archbishop of Canterbury, a man who can be given to great kindness, as well as the Archbishop of York, brow-beating, intimidating and threatening other members of the nominating committee who disagreed with him. We see Williams' throw a friend, the Very Rev. Jeffrey John, under the bus--not once but multiple times. (Even though Williams' claims to have "no problem" with celibate gay men being bishops.) We hear how England's Equality Law is manipulated and parsed for the state church of England. We see how Episcopal appointments happen in back rooms and in secret. (Which makes me appreciate our sometimes messy electoral system with the checks and balance of Standing Committees and/or General Convention.)

It appears that Williams and Sentamu will apply the same technique to the ordination of women to the Episcopate. They plan to ignore the General Synod and continue Flying Bishops after female bishops are regularized, ensuring at once the continuance of division and the demeaning of women clergy.

Let's assume for just a moment that the motivation for this behavior is a passion to hold the church together. Let's assume that this is done to allow those who don't agree with the ordination of gays or the blessing of same sex unions (or the ordination of women) room to stay in Communion. The way to do that is not to give into bullying, neither is it to bully those with whom you disagree.

Over the last decade, we have seen Williams' approach to this whole crisis. We have seen that it has made everything worse by rewarding bad behavior and consistently promoting a legalistic solution to a pastoral problem.

Every time he has given in to the folks most angry at "these issues" they have not only demanded more, they have participated less. At the end of the memo, Slee wrote the Archbishop about the Jeffrey John fiasco in 2003: "I still believe that had you stood your ground at the time, all that has followed would have been a short-lived blip instead of a deeper and deeper morass."

He has ignored the power dynamics--and the reality that the division in this country was funded by outside right-wing political groups--as so much "conspiracy theory" and still has given in to them. He has rarely refused a chance to insult or ignore the Episcopal Church.

I used to think that those who sowed division counted on Williams' good intentions to be used against him. I used to think that he "understood" the obscure levers of power in Lambeth and was really working for a good outcome, but in secret. But no more. What may have started as a failure of nerve has now become the ground he chooses to make his stand.

This memo demonstrates that the task of preserving the institution is not the same thing as preserving unity. He is choosing institutional stability over the hard work of Communion every time; and, sadly, it only makes the problem worse.

I don't understand how it is that a smart guy like Rowan apparently can't grasp that Communion is neither the same as conformity nor dependent upon agreement. Christ's promise that we all will be one has in fact been accomplished--on the Cross, in the resurrection and in the gift of the Holy Spirit. Our communion is built on common role the baptized share as disciples of Jesus Christ. The fact that we follow Christ and carry out His mission even when we disagree, that we share in His body and blood even as we differ, is the real sign of our unity.

(Lesley's blog talks about this, too.)

Today I found this reflection by Lowell Grisham, on the feast of Augustine of Canterbury (which is today), which describes well--and in thoroughly Biblical terms--what it really means to be in Communion and how the earliest Church handled clashes over apparently life-or-death theological and pastoral issues.

On the day we hear about the ugliness inside Lambeth, this comes as a useful corrective:

Paul wrote to a mixed community of Christians who came from different backgrounds and who had strongly held opinions. The major conflict in Paul's churches was between Jewish and Gentile Christians. Jewish Christians observed the sabbath and the kosher laws of their tradition and of the Hebrew scriptures. For Gentile Christians, every day was a workday, the sabbath was no better than another day.

Gentile Christians did not observe kosher dietary laws. However, for some Gentile Christians, their conscience was bothered by meat sold in the public market, for that was meat that had been dedicated to Apollo or one of the gods that they formerly followed. For others, there was no bother because they now believed there was no such thing as idols.

"Let all be fully convinced in their own minds," said Paul. Diversity in many of these beliefs is fine. Everyone does not have to come to the same conclusion about everything. Honor your conscience, and live together in unity with charity toward one another, Paul advised. "Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Also those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God.... So then, each of us will be accountable to God."

Pope Gregory gave Augustine great flexibility when dealing with the various traditions that he encountered when he arrived as "Archbishop of the English Nation." Augustine was not charged with enforcing Roman customs on the indigenous Celtic churches, but rather he was to honor whatever he could "profitably learn from the various Churches." People are more important than things.

Later in Romans we will see Paul urge those whom he calls the "strong" to be especially flexible with those whom he calls the "weak." He urges those who have a more mature freedom in the faith -- those whose consciences are not bothered by kosher laws or scruples about meat from the public markets -- to be charitable toward their more scrupulous brothers and sisters. When you are eating at home among your own family, feel free to eat what you wish. But when you are eating among the scrupulous, the "weak," refrain from eating what might trouble their conscience, even though your conscience is free.

Yet elsewhere, Paul does draw some strong lines. Especially over circumcision. Jewish Christians, following their tradition and the requirements of the Hebrew scripture, were certain that circumcision was a required sign and practice for those who would be acknowledged as God's people. They pointed to the testimony of scripture and tradition, and demanded that uncircumcised Gentiles be circumcised in order to be incorporated into the community of the church. Paul was vehement in his opposition. "No!," he said. Life in Christ was liberation from such legalistic traditions. Jewish Christians could not require circumcision from their Gentile brothers and sisters, regardless of their convictions, their traditions, scriptures or beliefs. For Gentiles to do so would nullify the glorious freedom that Christ has gained for us through the cross.

Paul did not say that Jewish Christians should refrain from circumcising in their own families, nor did he say that they should remove the signs of circumcision, as some Hellenized Jews did. But he also did not say that the Gentiles should be "flexible" with regard to the scruples of their Jewish Christian neighbors a be circumcised themselves for the sake of the scruples and conscience of their brothers and sisters.

I think these discussions and controversies are helpful guides for the present church and our own Archbishop of Canterbury. We are in a discussion in the Anglican Communion over the scruples of those whose consciences are troubled by the grace and fruitfulness that others have found in the faithful committed relationships of their gay brothers and sisters. "Let all be fully convinced in their own minds," seems like good counsel from St. Paul.

Those of us who recognize God's blessing in gay relationships may believe that heterosexual marriage is "no better than" the lifelong commitments of those of homosexual orientation, while other parts of the church may not. Let those who observe their commitments, observe them in honor of the Lord. Let those who are strong, whose scruples are not troubled by heterosexism, be charitable toward those whose consciences are troubled by the freedom Christ gives us. We need not require an acknowledgment that violates their consciences.

But, there is a line, as Paul insisted in the controversy about circumcision. Those who have scruples about their tradition of heterosexual-only relationships may not require "circumcision" of their gay brothers and sisters. They must not force their gay brothers and sisters to be circumcised "like them" in order to be welcome in the church's fellowship. Heterosexually oriented Christians cannot demand of homosexually oriented Christians to be either celibate or married unnaturally to someone of the opposite sex in order to be part of the Christian fellowship. To do so would nullify the glorious freedom that Christ has gained for us through the cross. To do so would ignore the fruits of the Spirit that we recognize in the committed, loving relationships of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things." (Galatians 5:22-23)

Heaven comes to earth

It is the silly season in the religion world again.

I am assuming since you are reading this then you were not taken up at the appointed hour. By now, you have no doubt heard about the Rev. Harold Camping, the radio preacher who said that the world was going to end starting at 6 pm Pacific Time on May 21, 2011. Everyone has been having fun with this…including me. Late night comics, satirists and columnists, reporters and commentators and clergy have been making all kinds of jokes out of this.

It’s easy to see why. But I have to admit that as much fun as I have been having making fun of those who have been buying billboards and radio time to tell us about the end of the world, I had mixed feelings about all this. The media makes it look like every Christian believes like Camping…or at least every evangelical…when the truth is that Camping and his follower represent the tiniest sliver of Christian believers.

On the other end of the spectrum came an interview with physicist Stephen Hawking. He said that there is no heaven at all and that in his view those who believe in one are only in denial about death.

Somewhere between these two polls—one of total denial and one that envisions a dramatic and violent end at the hands of an angry God—is perhaps where most of us live.

Every week, we say together that line in the creed “We believe that he will come again….” And then comes today’s lessons. In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells us he is going to prepare to a place for us and that God’s house is made up of many rooms. And in Acts we hear Stephen, the first Deacon of the Church and the first martyr, as the crowd is about stone him that he has a vision of Jesus coming from his throne in heaven to come get him. When he proclaims his vision out loud, it is the last straw for those who have seized him and they pick up stones and kill him.

Acts tells us that the Church was growing in leaps and bounds. Stephen got into trouble for doing "wonders and signs." He is hauled into court for telling people about Christ. You can read his testimony in Acts chapter 7. But before he launches on his re-telling of the history of God and Israel and the story of people’s response to God—a not too flattering picture--we learn but before he speaks, "his face was like the face of an angel."

But an angelic countenace did not save Stephen from trouble. In those days, when someone said something outrageous, they did not drag him before John Stewart and the the internet for ridicule. Nope, in those days when someone said something like “God requires us to change” they did not make jokes. They took him out and killed him in the most up close and personal way they could think of.

In Acts, Stephen’s message of salvation through Jesus Christ was intimately tied to the mercy he helped the Church give to widows and orphans--people who were tossed aside to fend for themselves with no family, no identity and no hope. His vision of Christ coming in glory was also a vision of God ready to forgive everyone, even those who were about to kill him.

There is another vision of heaven in today's lessons. In the Gospel of John, Jesus is talking to his disciples, in particular Thomas and Philip, about where Jesus is going. Jesus moves the conversation from GPS coordinates to the way we make the journey...and what God has in mind for us when we make it. Jesus says something outrageous: that when we see Christ, we see God. If we want to know what God is like, see Jesus.

But wait! There's more! Jesus also says that we can do what Jesus does...and more! In other words, if we are following Jesus on the way to God, people can see Christ in us on their way to God. And where is he and we going? To the place God is preparing for us. A home inside of God's home. When Jesus says "in my father's house there are many rooms" he is saying there is room for all us. God looks at humanity and has a vision...a vision where there is room enough for all of us in God's home.

So the lessons today give us two startling visions of God who comes to us: Jesus saw God making room for us. Stephen saw that God is ready to forgive. In both lessons we learn that God is present to us even when things are going wrong. This is the vision of God coming to us in today’s lessons. God is bringing heaven to earth.

One of the problems the radio preacher has is that he thinks that God is out there somewhere faraway and has to come down and rescue us and take us to that faraway heaven before he destroys everything. This misses that the whole point of Jesus’ coming to us was to bring God down to earth…that God is with us.

Retired Bishop of Durham, Tom Wright, in responding to physicist Stephen Hawking, described heaven this way:

… in the Bible ‘heaven’ isn’t ‘the place where people go when they die.’ In the Bible heaven is God’s space while earth (or, if you like, ‘the cosmos’ or ‘creation’) is our space. And the Bible makes it clear that the two overlap and interlock. For the ancient Jews, the place where this happened was the temple; for the Christians, the place where this happened was Jesus himself, and then, astonishingly, [in] the persons of Christians because they, too, [are] ‘temples’ of God’s own spirit.

In Christ, heaven comes to earth. God’s space and our space meet. And as Christians, as God’s people, we are the ones who show off God’s presence in the world. As people who are baptized into Christ’s body, we are ones who discover and communicate God’s transforming love.

This is a very different vision than either Pastor Camping or Professor Hawking. God is not out to destroy an irretrievable creation, as Camping says, and heaven is very real…it’s just different than what Hawking assumes Christians believe.

As we meet Christ in the sacramental life, as we yearn to know God more and more, as we look for Christ in the face of the people we meet, we develop a different kind of vision of heaven; vision that knows that God is with us in Christ, and see Christ at work in us and in the world we live in, a vision that changes us and makes a real difference in a world desperately in need of healing.

Instead of waiting to be snatched up to heaven in a second, most believers do great things and often unnoticed things that show us how heaven and earth intersect every day.

This week I heard the story of Mary Johnson and Oshea Israel . Their story shows off how God is at work redeeming creation. The story begins in 1994 when Oshea killed Johnson's only son during a scuffle during a party. Oshea went to prison for murder and toward the end of his sentence, he and his victims mother made peace.

The NPR story says:

Israel recently visited StoryCorps with Johnson, to discuss their relationship — and the forgiveness it is built upon. As Johnson recalls, their first face-to-face conversation took place at Stillwater Prison, when Israel agreed to her repeated requests to see him.

"I wanted to know if you were in the same mindset of what I remembered from court, where I wanted to go over and hurt you," Johnson tells Israel. "But you were not that 16-year-old. You were a grown man. I shared with you about my son."

"And he became human to me," Israel says.

At the end of [that first] meeting at the prison, Johnson was overcome by emotion.
"The initial thing to do was just try and hold you up as best I can," Israel says, "just hug you like I would my own mother."

Johnson says, "After you left the room, I began to say, 'I just hugged the man that murdered my son.'

"And I instantly knew that all that anger and the animosity, all the stuff I had in my heart for 12 years for you — I knew it was over, that I had totally forgiven you."

Here is a woman doing what Jesus did…and more. She forgives, yes, and then she took on her son’s killer as if he was her own, and then she founded From Death To Life: Two Mothers Coming Together for Healing, a support group for mothers who have lost their children to violence.

What did Mary Johnson see when she looked into Israel Oshea’s face? What changed when they hugged? Whatever changed…it is a vision of God making room in two people’s hearts. It is a vision of God who is present to us even at the darkest moments ready to receive us and ready to forgive.

If you think that Johnson’s forgiveness of her son’s killer is, well, crazy then let me ask you this: which kind of vision of God do you prefer? The empty vision of no-God, or the fiery vision of a vengeful God? Or can we see God's vision for us? Can we see like Mary Johnson? I think her holy, naïve, risky vision shows us that it is possible to see the face of angels anywhere. It is possible to know right now the place that God prepares for us. When she finally found the place of forgiveness it changed everything.

Over and over again, we see the faces of the holy. It often comes to us in strange unexpected ways. When people saw Stephen, they saw the face of an angel. When Jesus saw us, he saw that God makes room for each and every one of us. In Christ, heaven and earth have come together and when people see us—we baptized, forgiven, people of God--I believe that it is possible, in fact even likely, that they see the face of angels. And as Christian people it is possible for us to see God's vision of making room for everyone, of everyone having a place in God's home.

And this is how heaven comes to earth. This is how God transforms creation. One vision at a time.

The Fifth Sunday of Easter– Acts 7:55-60, John 14:1-14