The 7th Sunday after Epiphany: Love Your Enemy?

So much of the Gospel lesson from Matthew gets quoted in all sorts of contexts:  “Turn the other cheek . . . go the second mile . . . love your enemies . . . be perfect . . .”  But context in which Matthew places Jesus was on a mountain with his disciples. Jesus sought to prepare them for the ministry he would entrust to them. And there was a larger context:  the society in which Jesus, his disciples, and the people for whom Matthew wrote this gospel lived. They lived as oppressed people under the brutal Roman Empire.  So Jesus was trying to prepare them for what they would have to face as his followers.

Within this context, Jesus taught his disciples about a way of life that questioned the very assumptions under which people usually operate.  If another person has power and abuses it, people usually make one of two choices.  One choice would be to fight back, using the same methods as the oppressor, as much as they are able.  The other choice would be to lay low and do what is demanded.  Jesus suggests a third way—to resist oppression by refusing to accept the oppressor's scenario—to resist injustice by choosing to act in way that overturns the perpetrator's expectations.  This sort of behavior involves great risk.  The Romans executed Jesus for behaving as he taught.  Matthew Boulton, who teaches at Harvard Divinity School, described Jesus' teaching as “a deeper more radical resistance . . . non-cooperation in the underlying paradigm of hate and brutality . . . active, creative non-resistance to the evildoer.”  As it did for Jesus, acting in this way often carries great risk—and sometimes great cost.

This passage from Matthew influenced Mohandas Gandhi in his resistance against British colonial power in India. Others who have taken this path of non-violence are Martin Luther King, Jr. against racism and segregation in our country and Archbishop Desmond Tutu against apartheid in South Africa.

But this gospel is not just for famous leaders of non-violent, peaceful protest movements. This gospel confronts us who are sitting here today to consider how we respond to the teaching of Jesus to love our enemies.  It confronts us about our trust in the validity of non-violent resistance or in Boulton's words “creative non-resistance to the evildoer.”  The question for us, I think, is do we believe that Jesus knows what he is talking about? 

In order to ponder about what Jesus means when he asks us to love our enemies, I want to offer two meditations on this gospel.  The first is by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German Lutheran pastor, who resisted the Nazis without violence until he became convinced that Hitler had to be stopped no matter the cost. He was executed by the Nazis for participating in a plot to kill Hitler.  The second is by Katherine Jefferts Schori, our presiding bishop.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote: “How then does love conquer?  By asking not how the enemy treats love but only how Jesus treated it.  The love of our enemies takes us along the way of the cross into the community with the crucified. The more we are driven along this road, the more certain is the victory of love over the enemy's hatred. For then it is not the disciple's love alone, but the love of Jesus Christ alone, who for the sake of his enemies went to the cross and prayed for them as he hung there. In the face of the cross the disciples realized that they too were his enemies and that he had overcome them by his love.  It is this that opens the disciples’ eyes and enables them to see their enemy as a brother or sister. They know that they owe their very life to the One who, though he was their enemy, accepted them, who made them his neighbors, and drew them into community with himself.  The disciples can now perceive that even their enemies are the object of God's love, and that they stand like themselves beneath the cross of Christ.”

Was Bonhoeffer correct in saying that the disciples as sinful people were enemies of Christ?  (Of course, that means that we are as well.) Was he right in asserting that only because Jesus Christ loved us and died for us, despite our sinful natures, we are enabled to see our enemies as Christ sees them?  And to love them?

In 2007 our Presiding Bishop Katharine received an invitation from the Anglican archbishop of Korea to address a gathering in Korea of Anglican from all over the globe about peace-making, an continuing issue for that divided country.  Part of her talk addressed our gospel this morning:  “The human ability to make war has mostly to do with fear.  People and their leaders live in fear of their neighbors or what they may do . . . Living in fear only degrades life, for it leads inexonerably to violence.  Living in fear denies the fundamental hope we share, for it condemns us to remain in the grave of the past.  Christians are not meant to live in fear.  We are born anew in hope for a dream we expect to become reality.  That great dream of God is for a restored and reconciled reality.  We make peace now so that God's cosmic dream may be made real.  Jesus says, 'Love your enemy' now, in the present, so that we might 'be perfect as God is perfect.'  That perfection is a becoming . . . luring us on toward the vision of all creation existing in the full presence and perfection of God . . . Loving our enemies means insisting that there is abundance for all in God's great dream of a restored creation.”

Is it realistic to act now for peace in the context of our Christian hope that Christ's coming again will make all things new and all things perfected in God's love?

So here are two views of both why and how we should follow Jesus' teaching to love our enemies—one in the context of Christ's willing sacrifice in love on the cross, the other in the context of our Christian hope in the reign of God, both now and yet to come.  Where are we, each one of us?  What does each of us truly believe about Jesus' command to love and to pray for our enemies?  Where is our head, and where is our heart?

References:

Matthew Myer Boulton quote:  Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 1, p. 385

Dietrich Bonhoeffer quote:  A Year With Dietrich Bonhoeffer, March 19, p. 85

Katharine Jefferts Schori quote: Gospel in the Global Village, p. 75

The 6th Sunday after Epiphany - Hard Teachings and God's Grace

“You have heard it was said to those in ancient times . . .But I say to you . . .” Matthew uses this linguistic pattern as he continues to recount Jesus' teaching his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount.  It is a powerful way to teach, especially because he is not contrasting his teaching with that of another rabbi.  He is contrasting his teaching with the Torah, the Law of God, or long standing traditions based on the Law. Last Sunday in the section of the Sermon on the Mount just before this one, Jesus makes the context of his teaching clear:  “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” He also said, “ . . . unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and the Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

These two statements provide clues about what Jesus as rabbi or teacher tried to accomplish in explaining what he expected of those who followed him. Jesus' teaching we heard from Matthew indicates that he set the standard for his disciples' behavior quite high. Two questions should interest us, particularly because some of his teaching appears quite outrageous—tearing out your eye and cutting off your hand to prevent you from sinning. The two questions are these: First, what in the world was Jesus doing here?  And, second, why did he do it?  Answers to the first question help us interpret a rather upsetting scripture passage.  Answers to the second can help us figure out how this teaching could hold meaning for us today.

Amy-Jill Levine, professor of New Testament at Vanderbilt Divinity School, says Jesus was “building a fence around the Torah,” something rabbis regularly did.  Because violating the Torah meant violating the covenant God made with Moses, rabbis would discuss how to avoid such a serious transgression.  Defining, for example, what “killing” truly meant, rabbis helped the Jews more completely and carefully keep the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill [or murder].”

In the passage we heard this morning Jesus takes a commandment or tradition and “radicalizes” it.  “Radicalizing” in this sense means getting to the root of the commandment or tradition.  What is the intent of the commandment?  And what should the intent be of the person keeping it?  After radicalizing it, Jesus creates examples of situations that may face his disciples—both then and now.

In the first teaching Jesus equates getting angry at someone or insulting them with murder.  When you murder, you are destroying another human being.  According to Jesus' teaching, anger and insults lie at the root of wanting to destroy another human being.  If in your anger you intend to hurt someone, that intention violates the commandment not to murder.  The fourth chapter of Ephesians addresses this concern with the teaching, “Be angry but do not sin . . .”   Finally, come the examples: “ . . .leave your gift before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift . . . Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him.”

After the teaching on murder and anger, Jesus taught with the same three-fold pattern on adultery, divorce, and oath-taking. First, the commandment or tradition was named; then it was radicalized; finally, examples were given.  Despite the fact that some of Jesus' examples are a bit over the top and despite the fact that much his teaching seemed designed to make the listener uncomfortable, after hearing or reading this gospel passage, all of us should be able to leave church this morning with a clear list of “I shalt nots.”

The question then becomes why did Jesus teach this way?  Did Jesus intend to create uncomfortable, anxious people trying not to offend God?  I would not be standing here trying to preach the gospel if I believed that were true. Neither do I believe the passage we heard this morning should be ignored, just because Jesus was using outrageous examples of self-harm and suggesting that things the first century Jews—and we—consider “normal” were indeed offensive to God.

What Jesus intended, I believe, was to move the disciples a bit off center—to move them away from a sense of certainty about what is right in God's eyes and what is not.  A person's intentions made a difference.  Righteous-appearing behavior would be hypocritical, if the good of the other person was ignored.  Jesus wanted us fully to understand God’s covenant with us based on self-giving love.  First, God loved us.  Then, God hoped that we would love God in return and love our neighbors as ourselves.

This morning we heard about a covenant in Moses' farewell address from Deuteronomy.  In it Moses describes the covenant God offers God's people: “I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses.  Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him . . .”

But often, in this covenant relationship with God, keeping our part becomes so, so difficult.  Sometimes we do get angry and sin.  We badly treat those we have promised to love, wondering why they are not meeting our needs and if we'd be better off without them or with someone else.  All too readily, we break our promises, even those we have made to God.  For what then can we hope?  We cannot merit the covenant blessings God promises.

But thank God, we do not have to earn God's love and God's blessing. As the disciples probably did that day on the mountaintop, we need to lose our certainty. We do not need to have it all figured out.  We do not need to be perfect.  Because God came to live among us in Jesus, our hope rests not on certainty, but on our faith in Jesus.  As St. Paul said in his letter to the Romans, “But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners, Jesus died for us.”  Let us live then, as best we can, loving God and loving our neighbor, as best we can—yet depending at all times and in all situations on God's gracious love for us.  Thanks be for God’s grace!

The 5th Sunday after Epiphany - Saltiness and Righteousness

Jesus said to his disciples, “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored?  It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.”

Our modern ears here this with something of an attitude: “O. K., that was then, this is now.” We have been told as recently as last week that dietary guidelines for keeping ourselves healthy mean eating less salt than ever, especially hidden salt in prepared foods.  Complimenting someone as being the “salt of the earth” may be an expression whose time has passed.

We know, of course, that salt was and is an important preservative, used from ancient times to keep meat from going rancid.  It even became valuable as a tool to finance the French monarchy. In the 18^th century the hated salt tax in France was one of the causes of the French Revolution. The sale of salt was controlled by the government of the king, who obliged every individual above the age of eight years to purchase weekly a minimum amount of salt at a fixed price.  I wonder how they enforced that?

But there is another way to view the importance of salt from the Hebrew Scriptures that can give us a deeper perspective on what Jesus was teaching.  I'm not talking about Lot's wife being turned into a pillar of salt when she disregarded the command of the Lord's messengers and looked back at the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.  What I am referring to comes from chapter eighteen of the book of Numbers. This passage recounts the Lord's instructions to Aaron, Moses' brother and the Israelites' religious leader, on how he should deal with holy offering.  The passage begins with this divine instruction:  “I have given you charge of the offerings [both produce and animals] made to me, all the holy gifts of the Israelites; I have given them to you and your sons as a priestly portion due in perpetuity.”  Then we come to the part about salt, which extends the use of the offerings to Aaron's daughters as well.  The use of these offerings to the Lord “is a covenant of salt forever before the Lord for you and your descendants as well.”  Before you think it unfair that only Aaron and his descendants get all these offerings, remember that they got no land as part of the covenant between the Lord and the Israelites.

So salt became a symbol of this covenant—was it a covenant to be preserved forever?  Perhaps, but there is even more. In the second chapter of the book of Leviticus this statement concerning offerings to the Lord appears:  “You shall not omit from your grain offerings the salt of the covenant with your God; with all your offerings, you shall offer salt.”  I don't think Jesus' teaching reported by Matthew about the reign of God in the Beatitudes just precedes the salt-of-the earth teaching by chance.  Nor, just by chance, does his teaching about not changing even a small part of the Law follows the salt-of-the-earth teaching.

In the Beatitudes Jesus taught about the gifts to humanity when God's righteousness reigns over all the earth.  Now he moves to what our response should be.  To paraphrase and expand his teaching a bit: you, my disciples, are the salt of the earth.  Remember that salt was to be included in the offerings presented to the Lord.  Remember the salt is a sign of the covenant God made with God's people. You, yourselves, are now that offering.  You are now a sign of the covenant.  Live in a way that is worthy of God's choosing and God’s blessing God's people.

Jesus taught the disciples about the Law’s importance in guiding their intentions as well as their actions. He wanted the disciples to understand how important their responses were to God's gifts, God's blessing.  As the Hebrew prophets and later the rabbis have interpreted the guidance of the Torah, the Law, to be meaningful in their times, Jesus did as well.  The gospel of Matthew, written to those who believed the end of the world was near, reported Jesus as saying our intentions and our actions should grow out of a critically important right relationship with the Lord.  Our righteousness in response to God's righteousness toward us, you might say.

Jesus was saying, I think, that our righteousness needs to be expressed in a deeper way than keeping the rules.  Righteousness expressed, perhaps, in the sense of the prophet Micah's words we heard a few weeks ago:  “What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God?”  Righteousness in the sense of the prophet Isaiah's words we heard this morning: “Is not this the fast [following the Law] that I [God] choose: to loose the bonds of injustice . . . to let the oppressed go free . . . to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house . . . [and] when you see the naked, to cover them . . .”

This is the saltiness that Jesus called his disciples to, and calls us to, as well—the saltiness of offering ourselves, our intentions, our actions to the Lord.  So each day, the people with whom we live and work and worship can “taste” the love of God, the righteousness of God, through us—as Psalm 34 suggests, “O, taste and see that the Lord is good.”  Yes, through our saltiness, we can lead others to know God's goodness.

The 4th Sunday after Epiphany: Steep Path to Salvation?

We've all heard the expression:  “Things are not always what they seem to be.”  This could be the opposite of that computer term describing a particular user interface as “what you see is what you get.”  Much of our holy scripture follows the first maxim rather than the second.  We may puzzle about what a certain passage of scripture means.  We may wonder what the writer of that passage intended for his hearers and later his readers to understand.  And most especially we yearn to understand what God—whom we believe inspired the writers, the editors and the folks who decided what was to be included in the canon of holy scripture—is saying to us as we listen to or read scripture.

For those of us who wear contacts or glasses, we know how important it is to have a useful lens through which to view the world around us.  Lenses could be compared to points of view—our point of view will affect our perception and our understanding of scripture passages.  St. Paul explained the effect of different points of view when hearing his message of the Good News this way:  “For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom . . .” 

Over the years since the Christian scriptures were first written, various view points have led to various interpretations of our scriptures.  I want to pick out three points in time to illustrate this.  First, at the beginning of the third century, a Christian thinker, Origen, said he found three meanings in every passage: its “flesh,” its “soul” and its “spirit.”  At the time of the Reformation in the 16^th century, Martin Luther, offered his opinion about the need for a single point of view:  “But our effort will be placed above all in this: to arrive at one simple, germane, and sure literal sense—if we are to treat sacred things aright.”  In our own time, a reaction to the Reformation stance has led scholars to offer various viewpoints when interpreting scripture.  In particular, we have been encouraged to interpret scripture from historical, literary, metaphorical, and sacramental viewpoints to name a few.

Although it would be fun for me to dwell on these and other viewpoints in some depth, I doubt if it would be fun for you.  I offered this thumbnail sketch of the history of Biblical interpretation, because our gospel lesson today, the Beatitudes, may offer some very real challenges for us to understand what Jesus meant to teach his listeners and what Matthew, who reported Jesus' words, wanted us to gain from hearing or reading them.

The challenge of these verses in Matthew comes from our wonderment about how these teachings could be applied to anyone's life, including Jesus' disciples.  To be poor in spirit, mourning, meek, and persecuted—these don't seem to be things to hope for.  Hungering and thirsting for righteousness, being pure in heart, being merciful, and making peace seem a bit more on track, although it even would be hard to do all these regularly.  And finally, what does being “blessed” mean?  Is Jesus showing us a very steep path to salvation?

Let's step back for a moment and consider Jesus' teaching in the Beatitudes in a sacramental way.  As a prophet—remember Jesus is on a mountain-top like Moses was when he received the Law—Jesus was teaching about the reign of God, despite current circumstances—then or now.  These words of this prophecy become “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.”  The gift of grace in the person of Jesus is the sacrament of God reconciling the world to God's self.  Jesus' words are a sign of the in-breaking of God's reign that have begun, but, of course, it will not be complete until Christ comes again.  BLESSED are you despite your circumstances or the results of your efforts at such things as being merciful and making peace, FOR, by God's grace, the outcome in the end will be good—even wonderful.

Perhaps they are signs for the whole community of believers, not just each of us as individuals—for indeed, a group of disciples was listening to Jesus.  For each of these conditions in which the Christian community finds itself or in which it places itself, Jesus' teaching provided—and provides—assurance that God has acted, is acting and will act to redeem humanity by reconciling us to God’s self.  The signs of community that trusts God's faithfulness are: having confidence that the members of that community will be part of the reign of God here and now, as well at the end of time; that they will be comforted when distressed; that God will fill their longing for righteousness for others, as well as for themselves; that God's mercy will be theirs to show to others; that God will satisfy their need for union with the divine; that God will honor those who work for peace; and that God will not allow persecution to come between the community and God.  Jesus teaches his disciples about God by announcing these prophetic signs of how God's blessing works.  Matthew's recounting of this moment shows us how dearly we are loved by God.  God's love conquers whatever seeks to tear us away from God—whether evil in the world or our own sinfulness.  We are blessed by God's love. We are surrounded and supported by God's love.  To use the words of our prayerbook, it is our sure and certain hope.  And not only hope for the community of St. Nicholas', but hope even for the whole world.  Yes, it is God's grace, nothing but God's grace.  So there is no steep path to salvation, for God’s grace is free. Blessed are you . . .  

The 3rd Sunday after Epiphany - Putting the Cross in the Center

St. Paul had heard from Chloe's people about quarreling among the Corinthian Christian community, and he objected to the attitude that association with one leader rather than another has become an object of pride. No pride should be taken in human connections by Christians; but rather they should come together in unity through their connection in Christ.

We understand human nature and our need to find comfort in the presence of people who share our values.  We find comfort in connecting with familiar folks.  In Paul's day those who discovered Christ through the witness of a particular person or group would naturally continue to look to that person or group for what to believe and how to live within the community.  In our time some parishioners will express unhealthy loyalty to a particular priest long after that person has retired or accepted another call.  Fond memories are one thing; living in the past, quite another.

In the case of the Corinthians, there were various factions struggling for control of the community.  So Paul held up unity as the ideal:  “be united in the same mind and the same purpose.”   I wonder if he knew how difficult that would be.  I wonder if Jesus knew how difficulty unity would be when he prayed, as the Gospel of John reports, that his disciples might be one as he and the Father were one.

So Paul draws the circle of inclusive unity with the only tool available to him and, indeed, the only tool available to any Christian—the cross of Christ.  The power of the cross lay in the willingness of Jesus to give his life in love for all who will come to him and have faith that he has shown us God.  The power of oppressive evil, personified by the Roman Empire, thought Jesus had been thoroughly defeated.  But the indignity and defeat of the cross became transformed into power by Jesus' resurrection.  And around that cross and through its power we can find unity that our human nature will not allow us to find in any other way.

Let's do a thought experiment:  think of a member of St. Nicholas' or a well-known Episcopalian or a well-know Christian with whom you strongly—even very strongly—disagree about something you care about deeply.  Then imagine yourselves together at the foot of the crucified Christ.  Then imagine yourselves together discovering the empty tomb.  Does the connection between you and the other person, mediated by Christ, feel stronger?  Could you come together with that person, reserving judgment and condemnation, to receive Holy Communion?

St. Paul said:  “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”   Self-sacrificing love is foolishness to those who reject its message of God's love for us.

Jesus' choice to accept the cross was a culmination of the way he had lived.  He came announcing that the prophecy of a Messiah, the in-breaking of the reign of God in human history, was fulfilled in him.  He taught that people must love God with all their heart and mind and strength and their neighbors as themselves.  He also lived in radical obedience to God and with deep compassion for the suffering of people.  He healed those who were in distress.  He challenged the religious establishment to put the needs of people above man-made rules.  He did all this until the civil authorities feared insurrection and could take no more—and the Romans put him to death on the cross.

Mark Harris, a poet and priest in our diocese, wrote a creed-like poem called “Three Christian Vows of Refuge.”  In it he defines the power of the cross:  “For we remember/ Under Imperial Authority/ In a captured province/ He suffered humiliation and agony/ And death on a Cross./ That Cross has become our Sign,/ For his death was not the end,/ But a new mark of his healing Grace./ Death could not keep Him from us./ His compassion and his teaching/ Have no boundaries./  In Him we find ourselves alive./ He is our refuge for all time.”  Yes, Jesus' death—“a new mark . .of healing Grace” and  the resurrected Christ—“a refuge for all time.” What love—what power!

But then the Corinthians and now we Newarkians at St. Nicholas' must find a way to live our day-to-day lives in our familiar congregation with whatever tension that may entail.  Decisions must be made by the Vestry, weekly worship must be planned, the altar must be set up, the monthly newsletter must be produced, sermons must be preached and sometimes listened to, bills must be paid, projects to raise money for outreach must occur, and an annual meetings must be held each year.  All those “musts” create opportunities to for us to find ourselves at odds with someone else in the parish.  The Corinthians certainly did!  But these occasions of duty also provide a chance to remember that the love Christ showed on that Cross has the power to transform and redeem and save—every one of us—including the person that has most recently irritated us.  So for the chance learn how to love each other by placing the Cross of Christ at the center of our lives and at the center of the life of our parish we give thanks! Perhaps in the end the Corinthians did as well.

2nd Sunday after Epiphany - Sharing our Faith Stories

I was talking with someone this week who believes that we must tell each other how we came to be followers of Jesus in order to build real trust in Christian community.  Anyone who participates in the Education for Ministry program—which a number of you have—must write a spiritual autobiography and revise it each year they are in the program.  Anyone who applies for a professional ministry degree program at a seminary must answer a question or questions that get at the same information.  Ordained folks have to share how they came to their faith and why they believe they are being called to ordained ministry with their rector, the vestry of their church, their discernment committee, the Commission of Ministry, and the Bishop.  I heard a priest once say that a Diocesan committee (not here in Delaware) told her she seemed to be focusing too much on herself.  Her response to herself was to think, but you've been the ones asking me to explain this or that about myself for several years now!

What we notice in the scriptures we heard this morning are people called into a relationship with the Holy One and with the Holy One who became human.  Why should we be concerned about this at all?  We no longer feel pressured to attend church to avoid hellfire as people did in the Middle Ages.  Most of us no longer live in small communities where all our neighbors would know if we “skipped” church.  No longer are there restrictive “blue” laws that kept Sunday morning set apart for church attendance.  In fact Sunday morning has become a time when lots of important activities happen unrelated to Christian practice.

Yet despite all the potential distractions this morning, each of you felt a pull to be present and to worship.  Did you make a conscious decision, or was it out of habit?  Or did you feel called to come, pulled by a desire to know God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit just a little more fully than you did a week ago.  And not by reading the Bible or a religious book on your own, not praying by yourself—but by gathering with others who are seeking the Holy One as well?

If you did, you were much like Andrew and one other unnamed disciple of John the Baptist who responded to Jesus' query about what they were looking for by staying and talking—and then following Jesus.  And in the case of Andrew—he brought his brother Simon to meet Jesus, too.

Yes, there was an element of belief in their following Jesus:  “We have found the Messiah,” but mostly it was about building a relationship—“and they remained with him [Jesus] that day.”  Richard, Bishop of Chichester in 13^th century England, wrote about his developing relationship with God.  He wanted to “see Thee more clearly, love Thee more dearly, follow Thee more nearly.”   The use of “thee” in indicated familiarity, not divinity.  You spoke to your relatives and close friends using “thee” and “thou.”  St. Teresa of Avila in 16^th century Spain wrote that “unoccupied” or silent prayer time was spending time with God as you would with a beloved friend—you didn't need a lot of words, perhaps none at all, to build a relationship—just time together.  In Teresa’s monasteries friendship with God was lived out through friendship with each other.  The nuns living in the reformed Carmelite communities she established were to treat each other as friends—even if they did like each other personally.

God's gift of a call into relationship and our response in following God's call to us may begin before we are even born.  Isaiah explained his call this way:  “The Lord called me before I was born, while I was in my mother's womb he named me.”  The writer of Psalm 40 saw his call as happening in the midst of his life:  “I waited patiently for the Lord . . . He made my steps secure . . . He put a song in my mouth.”  Paul expressed his call from and the call of God to the Christians in Corinth theologically:  [I was] “called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ by the will of God” and to the Corinthians , , , “those who are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints.”

Indeed, we understand ourselves as called by God into relationship, to be close friends with the Holy One and to gain wisdom we need so we may help others discover the love of God, available to all.  As Christians we have encountered God through Jesus' life, death and resurrection.  When we share our journey to faith and listen to others' journeys, we will gain community. Then through this community we will find strength to continue our journey in Christ—no matter what the circumstances.

Seeing or hearing about someone's righteous choices can give us the courage to follow a call  to work for justice.  Meeting at Mt. Zion Church,  the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and others considered Rosa Parks' strength in facing down discrimination on that bus in Montgomery, Alabama, and the success of the one day bus boycott in that city on December 5, 1955.  They decided to act and provide leadership for social justice.  This movement sought to change the unjust practice of making African-Americans stand up on a full bus in order to give a white person a seat.  At that meeting King accepted leadership of the Montgomery Improvement Association rhat managed the bus boycott.  King's call to leadership in this non-violent movement eventually cost his life.  He gained strength from Rosa Parks' story of courage for what he must have known would be a difficult journey.  Her story, told in a memoir she published in 1995 called Quiet Strength, described the role religious faith played in her life.  Parks' faith-in-action inspired King to follow God's call to him and still continues to inspire others to work for justice.

While we may not have such wide impact in fighting injustice as Parks and King had, our faith story can become an important tool in helping others understand God's call to them.  Don't fail to share it when an opportunity arises—and ask God to help you find those opportunities.

Baptism: Jesus' and Ours - Epiphany I

During my sermon on the Feast on the Baptism of our Lord, I engaged the congregation in a dialog.  I reflected on the elements of Jesus’ baptism and sought comparisons with our own baptisms.

First, in Matthew’s gospel Jesus was turning from one way of life to another.  He was accepting his Messianic role.  In our baptisms we are to turn from sin and evil and turn toward Jesus.   If we are infants, our sponsors agree to help us learn to fulfill this promise as we grow up.

Next, Matthew reports that Jesus tells John his baptism is to fulfill all righteousness.  We learn from the servant song of the Isaiah passage that righteousness means seeking justice and practicing compassion.  Among the baptismal promises we make (or are made on our behalf by our sponsors) are “to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves” and to “strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being.”   Working to keep these promises is a contemporary way of “fulfill all righteousness,” in so far as we are able, assisted by God’s grace.

Then, a voice from heaven called Jesus “the Beloved.”  So Jesus’ baptism was an occasion for God to announce a relationship of love with him.  Through this loving relationship (God to Jesus) we become God’s beloved, too.   Thus, we can respond to God’s love as Jesus did, by seeking God’s will for our lives.

Finally, at his baptism the Spirit touched Jesus.  As the gospel of Matthew continues, we see the Spirit empowering Jesus for his work to usher in the reign of God.  We, too, are touched by the Spirit in baptism and “marked as Christ’s own forever.”  With this we can become empowered to do the work God gives us, such as feeding the hungry and caring for the needy.

So the water of baptism is the outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace.  This grace helps us to turn away from sin and turn to Christ, to work for justice, and to show compassion.  It also is a sign that we are beloved by God and empowered by the Spirit to fulfill God’s call to each of us and to the St. Nicholas’ community.