The 12th Sunday after Pentecost - Losing or Saving One's Life

In the fall of 2005 I made friends with Titus Presler.  He had left his position as President of the Seminary of the Southwest and took a position at General Seminary as the academic dean.  Despite what you might be thinking--I was not "called" to the Dean's office!  Before Time Warner had installed internet in our tiny apartment, I had to send out some short prayers I had written each evening for a campus group using the campus Wi-Fi.  The only place I could get a signal in the evening was in the building where the IT office was. Titus' office was on the floor directly below the IT office, and there were a couple of chairs in the hallway.  So I quietly made my way to this spot with my laptop each evening.  One evening his door was open as he unpacked some boxes of books.  He noticed me and came out in the hall to find out—in a most pleasant way—who I was and why I was there.

After that, we occasionally found ourselves at the same table at lunch. I got to know his wife, Jane, who worked in the world mission section of the Presiding Bishop's office and had coffee with her. He made a special point of speaking with me after my senior sermon with positive feedback. And I audited his world mission class my final semester at General.

I heard that he did not remain at General, probably a casualty of the turmoil going on between the faculty and the administration.  I knew that his wife's job had been eliminated, and she (also an Episcopal priest) was serving at various churches in the New York City area.  I wondered what they were going to do next.

Then I learned that he had been appointed to the position of Principal at Edwardes College in Peshawar, Pakistan. I'm not exactly sure what his job entailed, but I knew his commitment to the new way of doing world mission. This new way entails walking with the people to whom you have gone to accomplish the goals they have developed. Yet Pakistan seemed so foreign, so dangerous.  Why did he choose to go there?  It may have been that his particular set of skills and his experience were needed. 

Edwardes College was founded in 1900.  It is currently owned by the Church of Pakistan, an ecumenical union of Anglicans, Lutherans, Methodists, and Presbyterians.  Here is Titus' description of the college:  "Edwardes is not a Christian enclave: 92 percent of the 2,800 students are Muslim, 7 percent are Christian, and 1 percent are Hindu or Sikh; 90 percent of the 105 faculty members are Muslim; and the campus includes a mosque as well as a chapel."

But the government of the provincial area wanted control of the college and engaged in acts of intimidation and even physically abused a Christian administrator.  Titus was no longer safe in Peshawar and went to live in Islamabad with a Muslim who believes that religious minorities should not be persecuted. The government continued to try to take over the college.  A lawsuit by the college tried to block this take-over, and Titus returned from the U. S. to testify. 

He described what happened in a recent article in Christian Century: "In February of this year, I received a safe-passage letter from Pakistan’s Interior Ministry and traveled back to Pakistan to appear in Peshawar High Court to support the diocese’s lawsuit against the government’s takeover bid. On our way out of the city, ISI agents flagged down me and my host, tore up the safe-passage letter, and hauled me into their vehicle. For about eight minutes two agents, one on each side, beat me with fists while the agent in the front seat accused me of being a CIA agent, warned me to leave Pakistan, threatened to kill me, and ripped the work visa out of my passport. My host argued strenuously with agents who were keeping watch outside and prevented a worse outcome by securing my release. In mid-April I arrived home to my family in Vermont, where I remain while the church works to resolve the situation.

         "As we drove away from our attackers, the prayer that came to my mind was this: “Friend Jesus, this and so much worse is what your Christian brothers and sisters have been experiencing here in Pakistan for so long. This and so much worse is what your Muslim brothers and sisters and others have been experiencing here for so long. Now I know it firsthand. I’m not thankful for the beating, Friend Jesus, but I am thankful for the knowledge. And for still being alive.”

I, too, am grateful that Titus survived this horrific experience.  He concluded his article by describing his heightened solidarity with the people he was serving in Peshawar.  And he asks for us "to join in prayer and mission" with Christians who live in fear of their lives, but who steadfastly maintain their faith.

Indeed, as Matthew gospel tells us, Jesus admonished his disciples, "If any want to be 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."  I doubt that Titus took his job at Edwardes thinking that he could be martyred.  We may also find ourselves unexpectedly in situations where more is demanded of us physically, emotionally or spiritually than we ever expected.

As we listen for God's leading in these situations, let us remember Jesus' assurance that God will honor our commitment to act with compassion, trusting that God will not abandon us--even if it means making ourselves vulnerable to losing whatever has always seemed most important to us. Yes, let us trust in God’s faithfulness; let us trust in God always--through every circumstance!

Titus Presler, "Persecuted in Pakistan," Christian Century, September 3, 2014, p. 20-21.

The 11th Sunday after Pentecost - To Live with A Focus on What Really Matters

Matthew's gospel passage today asks and answers two questions:  "Who is Jesus?" and "Who is Peter?"  In answering these questions Matthew points out who we as Christians are as well.

If I asked you when you came in the door, "Who are you?" you most likely would give me a rather strange look. And then if I asked you who I am, you would know for certain I'd gone over the edge.  But the question of identity is very central to everything, really.  Most of us look at ourselves in the mirror every morning when we brush our teeth and think, "That's me!"  We start our day affirming our identity, observing our appearance and pondering the roles we will fill today. We also may have fleeting thoughts about how we are different than other folks--either in our favor or in theirs.

When Jesus asks his disciples, "But who do you say that I am?" he appears to be asking his disciples how they see him versus how he is viewed by others. In claiming he is "the Messiah, the son of the living God," Jesus' disciples are claiming they know his identity, which others do not know. 

Ian Markham, Dean and President of Virginia Theological Seminary and speaker at our diocesan convention two years ago, offered some reflections on today's passage from Matthew:  "How do we know what God is like? Here we are little people on a small planet. So how can we ever work out what God is like?

“The central Christian claim about the universe is that it is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus that tells us what God is like. In this Gospel, Jesus is challenging his disciples: ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And we have a variety of answers, but the one Jesus commends is the one from Peter: ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.’

“. . . So Jesus is a reflection of the Creator. The role of the Son in Trinitarian theology is to show us what God is like. Or to use the language of John, chapter 1 - Jesus is the Logos; Jesus is the Word; the Eternal Word made flesh. In the same way that words reveal thoughts, so Jesus is the revealer of the thoughts of God.

“In Christian theology the primary word of God is a life. It is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This is the word that we are exhorted to imitate - in words and deeds (as the author at the start of Luke/Acts puts it). If you ask me what God is like: I look at the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. So how do I know that God identifies with the poor and excluded? Because in the ministry of Jesus I see a life that connected with the poor and excluded. How do I know that God wants to turn moments of despair into moments of hope? Because in Jesus, I see a Good Friday followed by Resurrection Sunday. How do I know that God calls us to live whole, transformed lives? Because in Jesus, I see the touching of countless lives and making them whole and transformed. The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is the Word. It is the life, death, and resurrection that shows us God. It is the revealing of God to the world. It is the Son disclosing the Father.

“So as we meditate on his life, we are being challenged. We are being invited. We are being shown precisely what the creator expects and requires of us. The God of the cosmos is calling us to discover love. To discover the capacity to live in conversation with others. To organize our life priorities so that we live with a focus on what matters."

And what Matthew tells us about Simon Peter's renaming by Jesus seems to be a call to him--and by extension to us—to "live with a focus on what really matters."  Simon is called to be the "rock" on which the strength of the church will rest, he is to hold the keys to the kingdom, and he will "bind and loose."  His importance to the community to which Matthew was writing could not be clearer. 

Yet, there is a sense in which Peter stands for all of us.  He received divine revelation in order to understand Jesus' identity.  We come to faith through that same divine gift. And the responsibility live out our faith in the world is indeed the "rock" on which Christ will be made known to the world.  We, too, are given "keys"--which St. Paul calls "gifts that differ according to the grace given to us." Those gifts—ministering, teaching, exhortation, generosity in giving, diligence in leading, cheerful compassion—are to be used to further the kingdom, God's reign of justice and peace—"binding and loosing," as it were, until all people know God's love.

So our identity, should we be asked about it today or any day, is not only or primarily made up of our appearance, the roles we play, or how we are the same as or different from others. Our true identity, as Peter's did, comes from our knowing Jesus Christ as Messiah and from giving our lives in steady faithfulness to our call from Jesus.  And Jesus calls us to be rock-solid as we share our grace-filled gifts and Christ's love with others.

• "How Do We Know What God Is Like?" The Very Rev. Dr. Ian Markham, Day 1, 2008.

The 8th Sunday after Pentecost - 5 Loaves, 2 Fish, and 5,000 Men, besides Women and Children

Today's readings give us insight about God's generous character.  God's generosity signifies the relationship God wants to have with God's people—which is everyone, according to Isaiah (Isaiah 55: 5).

What has been your experience with being generous or with benefitting from the generosity of another?  I want to share a story with you from the Depression era about a young Mennonite girl's understanding of her parents' generosity:

 "A couple of times a summer, a thin man dressed in black would politely knock on our back door about an hour before suppertime. His face looked old and weather-beaten, and despite the heat he always wore layers of clothing. The little cart with his belongings sat by the front gate.

“He would ask my mom if there was any food he could have that night. So she made extra of whatever she was preparing for dinner, keeping me inside the house while the man waited on the back steps. She filled a plate for him, and he sat on the steps and ate. After finishing his dinner he knocked on the door, said thank you, and continued on his way.

“Afterward my dad would launch into stories of the many hobos who passed through our small Pennsylvania town on freight trains during the Depression, looking for a meal and sometimes sleeping in the sheds at the family feed mill. “They’re homeless,” said my dad, “down on their luck, and it’s good for us to feed them.”

“My mom’s action, supported by my dad, left a deep impression on me. If she could feed someone so strange and different in our own yard, right outside our back door, I had some thinking to do about who belongs in our circle of interest and concern."*

This story came from a retired Mennonite pastor, Sue Clemmer Steiner, who has worked with a Mennonite social services agency in Canada, which addresses food security, supportive housing and addiction services.  She has determined that the folks who should comprise her "circle of interest and concern” are people in need.

The people who comprise Jesus' circle of interest and concern in today's reading from Matthew's gospel are in need as well.  Interestingly, Jesus has a need himself.  In the earlier part of the 14th chapter Matthew relates the story of the execution of John the Baptizer, Jesus's cousin, at the hands of King Herod. Just before the passage you heard today his disciples bought this sad and distressing news to him, so he sought to be alone.

Yet when the deserted place where he went filled with people who came to be healed, he acted with compassion and healed them.  His generous spirit continued to meet their needs when he took, blessed, broke, and gave the five loaves and two fish to all who were hungry.  His relationship with the crowd was just the same as God's relationship with the hungry Israelites in the desert. Then God provided quails and manna.  Now Jesus provided an abundance of food from very little.

Today we will experience God's providing food for us--in our case spiritual food for our journey as followers of Jesus.  We are usually most comfortable when we can give to another, but become much less comfortable in being the recipient of generosity.  Being the recipient of generosity--I'm not talking birthday, friendship, or Christmas presents now--implies that we have not been able to provide for our own needs, which makes us deficient in some way.

We come to God's table with our hands outstretched--some us are kneeling as well.  Isn't this a gesture of supplication? Please give me a morsel of bread and a sip of wine!  Our relationship to God is being in need, and in our tradition God supplies our need for spiritual food through ministry of others: an ordained person who blesses them with the words, "Send your Holy Spirit . . ." and people from this assembly who have felt called to assist in the distribution.

God's circle of interest and concern at this moment and in this place is us!  We are bringing from memory into reality the Last Supper of Jesus and his disciples.  We are also bringing what we believe will be God's feeding us in the future into present reality as well.  We have faith that God will provide whatever spiritual sustenance we need whenever we need it.

As we claim this faith, we can now become generous as God-in-Jesus was generous that day with the crowd.  Whatever we have to offer God will be sufficient.  God will take it and bless it. God will transform it as broken bread is transformed, so it can be given to all who need it.  Our task then will be to give generously from whatever God has blessed in us.

And, yes, Jesus did eventually retreat to be by himself.  The next two verses in Matthew say: "Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray."  He needed the comfort of the divine relationship in solitude.   Relationship in solitude also can be God's generous gift to us and provide another sort of spiritual sustenance.   So let us take and eat the food of spiritual sustenance we will receive at Holy Communion today, and then allow ourselves the space and time to experience God's presence as well.

* Sue Clemmer Steiner, “Reflections on the lectionary - Matthew 14: 13-21,” Christian Century (July 23, 2014) p. 21.