Easter Day 2015 - A Baptism on Easter Day

One of our Easter hymns begins with these words: “Welcome happy morning!”  The second and third verses—which can be skipped according to the asterisks at the beginning of the stanzas—talk about the coming of earth being clothed in “spring” with “blooms in every meadow” and “leaves on every bough.”  With Easter’s being so early this year, these signs of spring and symbols of Christ’s resurrection are barely present.

Our understanding of Easter is highly influenced by our climate: reawakening of the earth after winter and Christ’s resurrection seem to work together well.  Of course, it’s fall in the Southern Hemisphere, so they would eliminate these verses.  And some places have little in the way of seasons, just dry or rainy seasons.

Speaking of water, let us remember that baptism takes its pattern from Jesus’ death and resurrection.  In the prayer called “Thanksgiving over the Water” I say these words, “We thank you Father for the water of Baptism.  In it we are buried with Christ in his death by it we share in his resurrection. Through it we a reborn by the Holy Spirit.”

Resurrection came unexpectedly for the followers of Jesus, even those in the inner circle.  Mary Magdalene saw the stone covering the entrance to Jesus’ tomb and concluded that Jesus’ body had been removed by someone.  The reaction of Peter and the beloved disciple shows their confusion.  John reported that upon seeing the tomb was empty with the burial cloths still there these two disciples “believed,” but then they went home.  John comments on this by saying, “for as yet they did not understand the scriptures that he must rise from the dead.”

Mary Magdalene, on the other hand, would not allow the mystery of the empty tomb remain unsolved.  Her persistence was blessed by being the first, in John's account, to see the Risen Christ, even though she mistook him at first for the gardener. But upon hearing him speak her name, she knew he was her teacher.  He made her the first apostle by sending her to “the brothers” to tell them the good news of Christ’s resurrection.

The movement from sadness and despair to recognizing that God had indeed defeated death happened unexpectedly and quickly for Mary.  Yet, despite how quickly she understood what had transpired, much more slowly she had to figure out how to live in this new reality.

For baptism comes rather quickly (and unexpectedly as well, if an infant is baptized). With the water and the oil of chrism the baptized person becomes marked “as Christ's own forever.”  But as with all disciples throughout these over 2,000 years, the newly baptized will come to understand and respond to their new reality slowly day by day for the rest of their lives.  If he or she is an infant, that child will depend on their parents, godparents, family, and the church community of which they are apart.

Yes, the joy of a new life in Christ will be tempered by the difficulty of living as Jesus taught us to live.  So to the joy of this Easter Day.  While this Easter Day will hold great for us in these moments of worship and perhaps great for many of us will find joy in the rest of the day’s activities, Easter Day should be viewed the beginning of another year’s journey with all the normal difficulties and some significant difficulties that make up our lives.  Yet our days, lived in the knowledge of God’s love for us and God’s grace with the power to redeem our mistakes and our misfortunes, can be filled with the joy of thanksgiving for God’s presence with us, God’s blessing us, and God’s never-failing care for us.  Welcome happy morning! Alleluia, the Lord is risen!

Good Friday 2015 - How Shall We Look at Jesus' Crucifixion?

“I danced on Friday when the world turned black/It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back.  They buried my body and they thought I’d gone/But I am the dance and I still go on . . .”  Do you recognize this?  Yes, "Lord of the Dance" is a hymn with words written by English songwriter Sydney Carter in 1963.  On this Good Friday we remember Jesus’ horrific torture and execution, alluded to in Carter’s words. 

Perhaps we will respond to it through a theological lens.  We call one of the most famous of these lenses “substitutionary atonement.”  This theology appears in a work by Archbishop Anselm of Canterbury who held this position in the latter part of the 11^th century and the early part of the 12^th.  He wrote a book about why Jesus had to die.  Its Latin title, Cur Deus Homo, can be loosely translated “Why God Became Man.”

Our sins, according to Anselm, cannot be forgiven without satisfaction, meaning God has been angered and injured by our sin—so we are damned for eternity. We were unable to do anything to satisfy God because of our massive sinfulness.  Only the physical sacrifice of a sinless person would make God relent and not damn us all.  Thus only Jesus, God-made-man, could be killed to satisfy God.

Although many of us were taught this as children in our Sunday School lessons, modern theologians reject this, because they view God as loving us without reserve.  Yes, we will be accountable for our lives, but in the end God’s grace will grant us eternal life. Jesus came to be with us, fully human and fully divine, to demonstrate God’s love for us—even allowing the world’s evil to do its worst on “Good Friday.” So our lives should be transformed by responding to God’s grace.  We will love God will all our heart, mind and strength, and our neighbors as ourselves.  We will do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God. 

Or we might respond to it through a biblical lens.  From the earliest days of Christianity the passages from Isaiah’s prophecy have been applied to Jesus.  Historically this may not be the most correct way to interpret this passage, but through the eyes of faith we can see Jesus pre-figured in Isaiah’s fourth servant song.

Isaiah 53: 4-6 Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

This passage could be said to speak about a model servant of God who willing becomes a scapegoat, killed for the sake of his community. Yet through that servant’s death the community is restored, healed and made whole.  For many of us a modern example of this suffering servant would be Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Or we might respond to this day through a personal lens.  As you may know, my husband died in November of last year. He suffered from lung cancer, which took away, piece by piece, all the activities he held most dear, including attending classical music concerts and spending happy times with his family, especially his beloved grandson, Jacob.  You may have witnessed such suffering in a loved one or friend.  We bring our experience of suffering unto death with us to our worship on Good Friday.  We pray that this suffering not to be the last word in the life of this person we held dear—or even in our own lives.

John Donne, a priest in the Church of England in the 17^th century, wrote a sonnet, which spoke to his belief that death would not have the last word. Through this poem, he told death off. I read it at my husband’s funeral, and I want to share it with you today.

A Holy Sonnet:  “Death be not Proud” by John Donne

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,

For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow.

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,

And better than thy stroke; why swellest thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

Whatever lens we use today to help us understand the meaning of this dark day we call Good Friday, let us ask God to touch our hearts and give us the strength to bear our own crosses, to live as Jesus taught us to live, and to die with a holy hope in the grace and glorious victory of God.

Palm Sunday 2015 - Jesus' Journey; Our Journey

Jesus had been on a journey, and so have we.  Jesus’ human life began in Mary’s womb and ended when he died on the cross.  Our lives began in our biological mothers’ wombs and will end at our death—most like in a bed, although some folks’ lives will end in a disaster—in a crash, in gunfire, in a storm, in a flood, in a landslide, in fire . . .

Today, through listening to the scriptures read on this Palm Sunday, we encounter the last days of Jesus’ human life.   On occasion we’ve been asked to imagine where we might place ourselves in that story, as in the hymn, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”

This can be a fruitful approach for finding meaning in the Passion Gospel.  You may grieve with Mary.  You may get angry at Judas’ treachery.  You may eagerly reach for a piece of bread or the cup of wine at the Last Supper.  You may come to understand how frightened Peter was, which led him to deny Jesus’ three times.  You may even go so far as to imagine the physical and spiritual agony Jesus suffered as he was tortured and crucified.

But an equally fruitful approach might be to recall a time of suffering for yourself, a loved one or a friend.  You can also imagine yourself in the midst of the suffering of people you’ve heard about or read about in the news.

Let’s pause for a moment and bring such a moment from our memories into our imaginations.  [Pause] 

As painful as these memories may be, God can use such moments of suffering to help us grow in our understanding of how much God cares for us.  As painful as these memories may be, through them we can grow in our love for God and our desire to live as God would have us live: to work for justice and to find compassion in our hearts for people who suffer.

Dr. David Lose, a Lutheran pastor and president of the Lutheran Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, tells us how he views Jesus’ Passion:

“Jesus suffers, that is, so that when we are suffering we know God understands and cares for us. Jesus is utterly alone by the end of the story so that when we feel alone we know God understands and is with us. Jesus cries out in despair so that when we become convinced the whole world has conspired against us and feel ready to give up, we know that God understands and holds onto us. Jesus dies so that we know God understands death and the fear of death and reminds us that death does not have the last word.

“All that we see and hear [on this Palm Sunday], all that we read and sing, all of this is for us. And so the fourth century theologian Athanasius, speaking of the Incarnation that reaches its climax in the crucifixion, said that God becomes like us in Jesus so that we may become like God. And twelve hundred years later, Martin Luther described the cross as the divine exchange where Jesus takes our life and lot that we may enjoy his righteousness and victory.”

This Holy Week let us ponder how we might find God in the darkest moments of our lives.  Let us ponder how knowing God in this way might lead us to become people who work for justice and practice compassion—who, even when tempted to give up hope, still can long for and strive for the reign of the risen Christ.

--Dr. David Lose from Day 1 - http://www.davidlose.net/2015/03/palmpassion-sunday-b-entering-the-story/

The 5th Sunday of Lent - "Sir, we wish to see Jesus."

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus,” some Greeks asked Philip. This request wasn’t surprising.  John reported that Jesus recently had raised Lazarus from the dead and had just entered Jerusalem to the acclaim of many people there.  John related how the people had greeted Jesus with palm branches, shouting “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—the King of Israel!”

Yet John’s gospel doesn't say that Jesus ever met with the Greeks.  Rather he begins a discourse with Philip and Andrew—and most likely  with  others—verse 34 said “the crowd” answered him.  Jesus spoke about what was about to happen to him and what it meant.  Let’s look closely at some parts of his discourse and consider what we might think about it.

First, a grain of wheat dying to bear fruit:  an agricultural metaphor of common sense knowledge, but in this context it conflicts with the hope of a triumphant Messiah.  The grain is buried in the soil, nearly invisible, insignificant by itself.  Jesus appears this to confront the crowd’s and his disciples’ expectations with this image.

Then, God’s voice like thunder proclaiming that God’s name had been glorified and will be so again:  Now God’s voice or that of an angel speaks the truth about what will happen. God has been and will be glorified.  For the crowd, impressed by this auditory display of power—divine power, appears to cling to a messianic hope.

Finally, Jesus being lifted up and drawing all people to himself:  now the image shifts from a seed in the ground to the messiah being lifted up and drawing all people to him.  John has to explain to the people who will hear this gospel read that “being lifted up” means crucifixion, for what the crowd still expects and what will happen could not be more different.  What will happen through Jesus’ crucifixion, resurrection and return to the God will be to fulfill what the Greeks (we would say Gentiles) desired, that is, to see Jesus.

Surely, by the time Jesus had finished this discourse his listeners must have been confused and, perhaps, distressed. We, on the other hand, with the advantage of knowing how it all came out can understand that Jesus will be the one to die so God’s name will be glorified, but is also the one who can heal the whole world by drawing everyone into God’s reign of justice and peace.

Seeing Jesus means seeing him both crucified and triumphant, to hold in your mind both the image of a crucifix and the image of an empty cross.  For me the Christus Rex cross helps me to truly see Jesus.  The Christus Rex (Christ the King) shows Jesus on a cross, but not slumped in death, but upright, with his arms extended to embrace the whole world. He also wears a crown.

Seeing Jesus here today will also mean seeing him in the laying on of hands for healing and in our feeding of our spirits in the bread and wine at Eucharist.  Not only does Jesus draw all people to himself, but he also draws each one of us through these acts, which exemplify his love.  My worthiness or the worthiness of people who assist me with the laying on of hands or distributing the wine cannot be our focus. We are here today exercising our various ministries not for our own glory.  We are here so you may look through us to see the One who calls you into relationship, so you may know the healing and life-giving power of his love.

The 4th Sunday of Lent - What Nicodemus Wanted/What Nicodemus Got

The Gospel of John, Chapter 3

      Under the cover of darkness at night a Pharisee named Nicodemus came to ask Jesus who he was.  His question was a statement: “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs apart from the presence of God.”

      According to John, Jesus doesn't ask Nicodemus to clarify his question.  He knows that Nicodemus wants Jesus to confirm the statement he just made.  And he may hope Jesus will reveal even more about himself.  What Jesus says, however, engages Nicodemus in a theological reflection about the longed for “kingdom of God.”  

      Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom extends from verse 3 of chapter 3 all the way to verse 21, the end of the chapter.  From these words modern Christians have taken the phrase “born again,” defined it to serve their purposes, and used it to whack other Christians up the side of the head to prove their worthiness and discount all other Christians.  Occasionally, maybe even often, Episcopalians have been on the receiving end of the whacking.

      The other words we Christians have extracted from Jesus’ teaching are the very familiar statement: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”  John 3:16.  Although this statement beautifully sums up why we follow Jesus, it too has been used by some Christians to decide who will be saved and who will be condemned for eternity.

      A United Church of Christ pastor, J. Bennett Guess, preaching on our Gospel lesson this morning, said, “Ironically, these very words that Jesus was speaking to a rigid and legalistic Pharisee, trying to help him see salvation more expansively, have become the very symbol of conditional, exclusive Christianity: ‘Accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, or go to hell for all eternity.’ That's basically what it boils down to.” 

     Some pastors stop reading this passage at the end of verse 17, because they worry that verse 18b (“. . . but those who do not believe [in the Son of Man] are condemned already.”) will lead to intolerant thoughts and behavior.

      I never like to stop struggling in interpreting a passage that presents difficulties.  In particular, are Jesus’ words in this conversation with Nicodemus supposed to exclude folks like Nicodemus? Or perhaps are they supposed to open Nicodemus’s heart to a new thing God might be doing, which will include him?  And, in addition, what can they teach us today about Jesus and about our faith?  Perhaps we should try to understand why Jesus approached Nicodemus the way he did by imagining that we are Nicodemus.  In that way we can enter this event in a deeper way.

         “I am Nicodemus. I’m well-educated and a member of the party of the Pharisees. We’re progressive—much more than the Sadducees—but we do believe the Law of Moses is important to protect.

          Yes, I know the buzz that this Nazarene teacher Jesus is creating.  And he does amazing deeds of power as well.  My colleagues and I are concerned about how influential he has become with the common folk. After all we are leaders by our inheritance from our forefathers who preserved our worship traditions.  He could upset things, maybe even start a riot, and then the Romans will come down on us hard.

And yet—and yet—what if he is a prophet from God?  What if he is the one who will restore us and, through the power of God, kick out our oppressors, the Romans.  I have wondered about this and am burning to confront him myself.  If he could convince me—maybe he could change his tactics a bit—no more overturning tables of the merchants at the Temple, for example—then he could convince my colleagues, too.

            What should I do?  Certainly not let anyone know what I’m doing!  So I’ll wait until it’s dark, and when I approach him—I’ll flatter him a bit before I throw a direct question at him. Well, Jesus didn’t let me get that far—he confronted me with his idea that a person must be born again or perhaps born anew or even born from above—in order to be prepared for God’s coming kingdom.

            What could he possibly mean with that crazy idea.  People are only born once! So I challenged him about how one can be born after having grown old.  Well, he just kept going on—he said being born from above means being born of the Spirit. 

            When I could no longer contain my consternation, in exasperation I asked, “How can these things be?”  Then Jesus really went after me.  He asked, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?”  Although he said it quietly, his point could not have been clearer.  He had called into question my understanding of God and God’s work in the world—even though I was more educated than he—AND I had the respect of my colleagues!

            But I could not turn away—his quiet authority, authority without pretension, compelled me to hear him out.  He spoke about the Son of Man healing the whole world.  God’s love was so great that no one need perish, but anyone who understood what God was doing—and responded in faith—could partake in God’s kingdom eternally.  Jesus compared God’s love to light, which will reveal those whose deeds are done in God.

            I felt my heart melt within me as recognized how much I was loved.  Yes, I will continue to keep the Law, but with a new spirit of openness to how God may be acting in this moment to draw ALL people to God’s kingdom.”

         So what Jesus sought in his challenging Nicodemus and in his teaching about God’s love was to broaden Nicodemus’ outlook about God.  God was known through scripture and the traditions of the Jewish people.  That would not change—but now God was continuing to reveal God’s self, so all people might be drawn into the life of Love Incarnate, Jesus.

         If anytime, we are tempted to use Jesus’s words into John 3 to exclude or separate someone from the circle of God’s love—to decide that they could never come accept the faith that we have accepted—then we should stop ourselves and remember what Nicodemus learned from his interaction with Jesus.

         How do we know Nicodemus was changed after his night visit to Jesus?  At the end of the 7^th chapter of John, Nicodemus told his fellow Pharisees that they should give Jesus a fair hearing, before deciding he was wrong about God. Then in the 19^th chapter, John reported that Nicodemus accompanied Joseph of Arimethea in preparing Jesus’ body for burial with myrrh and aloes.

         May God’s love call to us, as it called to Nicodemus that night.  When we find ourselves challenged by people who may come to God in other ways than we have, remember Nicodemus.  God’s love is so deep and so broad that all people can be embraced in God’s love now and eternally!

                                        Dr. Guess’ quote came from his Day 1 sermon for March 15, 2015.

The 3rd Sunday in Lent - Overturned tables or stable tables??

John 2: 13-22

Rarely do I tell a joke at the beginning of my sermon—actually I use very few jokes in any event.  It’s too easy to keep chuckling about the joke mentally and letting your mind wander.  But I’m taking the risk today, because this the perfect joke for Lent.  It’s perfect in that it frames the tension of between our fears of judgment and our faith.

Here it is:  The worship service has ended. The priest stands in the front doorway, shaking hands with parishioners as they leave. A mother, father and son have come down the steps and are walking away, perhaps to their car or to coffee hour in another building.  The child tugs on his dad’s sleeve to get his attention.  Then he asks, “Just WHEN were you going to tell me about hell?”

In medieval times we know that the church offered the faithful indulgences to free them from a certain amount of time in purgatory and prevent them from going to hell for their sins. Of course, these indulgences were sold to raise money to support the church. In Judaism from ancient times and in other religions, too, animals were sacrificed as a way to express one’s faith, garner favor with the divine and feed the leaders of ritual practices. By the time of Jesus, people were asked to contribute money as well.  The problem with the Roman coinage could be described as violating the second commandment about making idols.  The coins had Caesar’s image, a sacrilege if brought into the inner courts of the Temple to pay the temple tax.

The Protestant Reformation changed the way we understood the salvation of humanity.  Martin Luther, a leading reformer, taught that humanity was not earned, but given by God without merit by good deeds on our part.  He said it was God’s free gift of grace through faith in Jesus Christ as our redeemer from sin. Heaven is gained, and hell can be dodged through our faith.

Given Jesus’ prophetic anger at those merchants who assisted pilgrims and worshippers to meet the requirements of their religious expression—which by the way is in all four gospels—perhaps we should pause to think about our religious expression.  How do we understand appropriate religious expression? Why do we do we express ourselves in these ways?

Today I’d like to use the image of a table to answer these questions.  Since sometimes we call the altar a table—and since the altar in our worship space looks like a table with supporting legs—I think we can make this image work for us.

Religious expression that would be pleasing to Jesus might be seen as a “stable table” supported at each corner by a leg.  If one of those legs is missing, it becomes an “unstable table,” perhaps not collapsing immediately, but in significant trouble. I am calling these four legs:  covenant law, the life-affirming ethical and moral practices in our society, worship in community, faith in God’s lovingkindness.

The first leg is covenant law, seen in the Hebrew Scriptures, called the Mosaic covenant.  Our first reading began today: “God spoke all these words [of law] . . .” God’s law was a gift to the Israelites to show his care for them.  Entering into covenant with God by trying to obey these words would lead both the Israelites--and us--into a close relationship with God and into healthy relationships with other people, which then will lead to abundant life.

The second leg is life-affirming ethical and moral practices in our society today.  Some practices, which appear in the Bible, such as slavery, were acceptable for thousands of years, but have now been condemned. We have come to understand that we should consider every other person as worthy of our respect, although we don’t always manage to do this. We remember our baptismal covenant includes these questions: “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?  Will you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of EVERY human being?”  We know we should treat each person as worthy of God’s love and our care.  We should work to structure our society so that all people can access the abundance with which many of us are blessed. These “corporal works of mercy” do not earn us salvation, but through them we gratefully respond to the blessings we have received.

The third leg is worshipping God in community. You have come together here at St. Nicholas this morning to pray to God, to sing praise to God, to experience the presence of God in the blessed bread and wine, and to support our brothers and sisters in their journey of faith. I believe God finds joy in experiencing the love we show when we worship together—love for God, and, yes, for each other as well.

The fourth leg is faith in God’s lovingkindness—chesed is the word in the Hebrew Scriptures. Acting out of this love for us, God became incarnate in Jesus—became truly human.  For our sake Jesus endured crucifixion out of love. He overcame death through the power of God’s love. We cannot see God as long as we live here on earth, but our faith in God’s loving presence allows us to face whatever life throws at us. In the end God’s loving grace will keep our sins from having the last word.

So how stable does our table seem to be today?  Are we trying to obey God’s covenant law in a way that reflects the loving way God intended it?  Are we also trying to follow the life-affirming ethical and moral practices in our society? Are we eager to worship with others? Are we able to cling to our faith in God’s lovingkindness despite life’s difficulties? 

When we are able—with God’s help—to discover how to keep those four legs attached to our table of religious expression, then that “stable table” will become God’s altar in our hearts. And, yes, Jesus will be pleased!

The Last Sunday after Pentecost - Christ Reigns!

     The 25th chapter of Matthew, which has supplied our gospel readings for the past two Sundays, as well as today, describes ways that we could be judged by God.  Could we be like the unprepared bridesmaids who ran out of oil and missed the return of the bridegroom? Could we be like the servant who buried the talent his master gave him instead of using it to gain more for the master? These parables depict very harsh examples of judgment in the kingdom of heaven.  They might prompt us to become concerned about our worthiness for Christ's reign at the end of time.  Or they might lead us to question whether we want to worship a God that will not give second chances or who will show no mercy when judgment day comes. Or we might even say that we don't think the bridegroom or the master in the parables is truly God. But with these two characters Jesus creates images that he wants to contrast with the Son of Man or the king in the final section of this chapter.

But the like a piece of music that contains three movements with the third movement resolving the themes of the first two, the third section of the 25th chapter will help us resolve the tension built up in the first two parables. This section begins with the "Son of Man" coming in glorious splendor ready to separate the people who will be blessed by inheriting eternal life from the people who will be separated from God for eternity. In this parable-like story of the separating of the sheep from the goats, Jesus explains what he values most and how people will be judged.

Jesus said, ". . for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me."  And then Jesus explains that in doing it for "the least of these" you were doing it for him.  If he intends the disciples to see him as the Messianic "Son of Man," he intends for them to understand that he stands in solidarity with the most vulnerable people in their world.

One way to understand a scripture passage better is to imagine that you are a participant in the story. In this story I think there might be two ways to do this: first can you see yourself among those who asked Jesus, “When did we do these things for you?”  You are unaware of anything you did special, but then Jesus told you had cared for the needs of the vulnerable--and that was enough to gain entry into eternal life.  Yet as you fed, clothed, took care of, and visited, why had you done these things?  You, as part of the first group of people in the parable, had not especially been seeking God's favor.  In the world of the parable you had been going about business, but with eyes open to the needs around you.  You may have even asked yourself the question as you chose to help, "If not me, who will aid this person?"  This was the attitude of the Good Samaritan as he encountered the wounded man by the roadside.

     The other group of folks in the parable, the ones the king labeled "accursed," were also going about their business. However, they weren’t aware the needs around them.  They didn't understand that "the Son of Man," the King upon throne in his glory, could be found in the spirits or souls or hearts of those in need. Yes, Christ enthroned is glorious, but there is no divide between him and the  "least of these who are members of [his] family."  Even someone in prison!  Even someone who is homeless!  Even someone who suffers from significant physical or mental illness-- think Ebola, think severe depression.

The second way into this parable is to imagine that you are one of the "least of these."  Scholars are divided about this, but some of them feel that in telling this parable Jesus was trying help his disciples realize that, despite the mistreatment they would suffer, they could be sure Jesus would reward those who helped them.  Have you ever felt hunger and thirst at a time you could do nothing about it? Have you ever been a stranger anxious about how you would be received? Yes, and all of us have been sick to the point of feeling things might not come out well, haven't we?  If Jesus identifies with human beings at their most vulnerable--might not that help us know in at least some moments we have been "one of the least of these?” And if we can admit to ourselves these vulnerable moments have been ours, then our eyes will be opened to folks who need our attention and our care.

Since I have been Fred's [my spouse] caretaker for nine to ten months now and with special intensity during the last two weeks, I have wondered about what good could come out of our distress--his physical and mine emotional. I would have done this caretaking out of duty, of course.  But through this experience of caretaking, have I seen God's presence? At first I did not, but as my distress about Fred's situation increased and my anxiety about caring for him overwhelmed me, my heart cracked open and God filled the emptiness.

I wouldn't have said this ten months ago, but I have a new understanding of St. Paul's phrase in the passage from Ephesians we heard today.  That phrase is ". . . may you know. . . what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe."  I now understand that this is the power to enter our suffering, walk with us through that suffering, and fill our broken-open places with love.  Yes, Christ reigns not only in glory, but also in our brokenness. And for that, I want to say, "Thanks be to God."