THE 2nd SUNDAY OF EASTER - AS MANY TIMES AS WE NEED

The liturgical season of Easter has begun. Lilies and tulips placed around the altar make it beautiful, but soon they will fade and be replaced by the green plants we usually see up here. And although the colors of our plants return to green, our liturgical color remains white—the color of Easter. Our burse and veil on the altar and my vestments continue to be white for this Sunday and for five more Sundays—during the 50 days of the Easter season. The 50th day will be Pentecost Sunday when the liturgical color becomes red symbolizing the coming of the Holy Spirit after Christ's return to God. 


Except for the season after Pentecost, the Easter season lasts for more Sundays than the others. It represents the time Christ appeared to the people who had followed Jesus to prepare them for what God wanted them to do. First, they needed to understand what Christ's resurrection meant. Then, they had to be empowered to go out to proclaim the message of Jesus Christ to everyone who would listen. Our readings for the season of Easter follow this pattern as well. The meaning of resurrection is explored. The Risen Christ's interactions with his disciples are recounted. Jesus's teaches his disciples about his relationship with them and with those who will come after, receiving faith in Jesus Christ from those who knew Jesus.


Fred Borsch, formerly Bishop of Los Angeles, and now a seminary professor, writes about the meaning of Jesus post-resurrection appearances: “These are, indeed, wondrous and challenging stories in which Jesus is at first often not recognized. But there must have been something in the timbre of his voice. They see his scars. They know him in the breaking of the bread—in the sharing of bread and wine. The Spirit of Jesus is alive among them! God's love overcomes even the mighty power of death. . . [Jesus] not only spoke the words of God to them, he himself is God's Word of new life to all people.”


So today we heard an account from the Gospel of John telling of the Risen Christ's appearance to some of Jesus' disciples—and especially to Thomas. This account must be one of the most famous of these post resurrection appearances—so famous, in fact, that any of us could preach on this passage without much preparation. Our theme might be the nature of doubt—or Thomas as an “everyman,” a typical person—or the nature of faith: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Another theme might be the coming of the Holy Spirit to them through the breath of Jesus, and Jesus' sending the disciples out, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”—a sort of precursor of the coming of the Holy Spirit after Jesus' return to God in that very familiar account in the book of Acts we will hear this year and every single Pentecost Sunday. In fact, part of the gospel reading today will be the gospel reading for Pentecost Sunday two years from now.


And then there is that statement from Jesus about the forgiving or retaining of sins. Another theme then could be how we understand our responsibility as a Christian community to exercise the power in Christ's name to forgive sins. I understand our corporate confession of sin and the priest proclaiming God's forgiveness or absolution of sins in the midst of the assembly on most Sundays (but not in Easter) as flowing from this statement of the Risen Christ.


But of all the amazing themes that a preacher—or any one of us—can pull from this passage, a very powerful theme for these disciples and for us is the theme of our God coming twice—and if you take all the post-resurrection accounts in the New Testament—the theme of our God coming to the disciples as many times as they needed God to come until they understood and were ready to be sent out to spread the Good News. But not only to proclaim the victory of Jesus over sin and death, but also to agree, as Peter was asked by Jesus later in John's gospel, to feed and tend his sheep. Thomas did not understand and was not ready. Jesus came back to provide what Thomas needed—affirmation of his right to question what he had been told by his fellow disciples. For some reason Thomas did not trust them enough to believe they had seen the resurrected Jesus. Jesus came back—but not just for Thomas.


Had the disciples been empowered enough to lose their fear and go out to spread the Good News? The fact that they were back at the house where they had been hiding out implies that the other disciples needed more encouragement. John reported that Jesus continued to do signs in the presence of his disciples that John did not record. For John the signs that he chose to report, beginning with changing water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana, revealed who Jesus truly was—the Messiah of God, although fully human, as well. As John wrote in the prologue to his gospel: “And the Word became flesh . . ."


Jesus didn't get angry with Thomas or the other disciples, because they needed to continue to learn from him. He stayed with them until he knew they were ready to become apostles—no longer students, but people ready to be sent out to preach, teach and heal. I find comfort in Jesus' readiness to reach out again and again to those less than perfect disciples—for I am so much like they were—I also have felt unready and anxious at times about what God may be calling me to do. But as an observer of how our Lord treated Thomas, I can worry less, knowing that God will reveal God's self to me as God knows I have need of such a revelation. Each of us can ask God for the assurance we need—as Thomas did—confident there will be revelation in a way we can understand, so “that through believing [in Jesus, we] may have life in his name.” And for this we can say, “Thanks be to God.”


Frederick Borsch, Introducing the Lessons of the Church Year 3rd Edition, New York: Morehouse Publishing, 2009, pp. 107-108.

Easter Day - God has acted!!

Psalm 118: 22-24:

“The same stone which the builders rejected * has become the chief cornerstone.

This is the Lord’s doing; * and it is marvelous in our eyes.

On this day that the Lord has acted; * let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

In the 12^th chapter of his gospel Mark puts verses 22 & 23 from Psalm 118 in Jesus' telling of the Parable of the Wicked Tenants to the members of the religious establishment who were questioning his authority.  You know the tale:  A landlord plants a vineyard, leaves for another country, and leases it to tenants.  When he is ready to collect his portion of the profits, he sends several servants who are murdered by the tenants so they can keep the profits.  Finally the landlord sends his son, thinking that surely he will be treated with respect.  But the son is murdered as well. Jesus then says the landlord will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others.  Jesus cites this passage from Psalm 118 as proof of God's intentions.  Needless to say, the religious authorities became quite angry when they realized Jesus intended this parable to describe them!  They were angry enough to think about arresting him.

Mark saw Jesus as the rejected stone who had been set as the cornerstone for the new work of God, beginning with Jesus' resurrection. Traditionally cornerstones are important, because it's the first stone set on the foundation in the construction of a masonry building.  All other stones will be set in reference to the cornerstone, thus determining the position and soundness of the entire structure.

Of course, once a good cornerstone is set on the foundation, the builder needs more stones.  Evidence in the gospels tells us that among human beings there was little for God to work with.   During the days before Jesus' crucifixion the crowds abandoned Jesus.  The religious authorities delivered him to the Romans as a serious trouble-maker. One of those with him for the supper on Thursday evening betrayed him to the authorities. One had denied him publicly. Other followers appear to have scattered, hiding out in fear. Yes, some women stayed with him through the crucifixion, but on morning of the first day of the week they were bringing spices to anoint his dead body.  It's clear they did not expect resurrection. And the cornerstone itself seemed pretty much smashed, while the “living stones” God needed to begin building were useless or missing.

The final line of the gospel reading today illustrates an profound absence in understanding God's plan of salvation in Jesus: “So [the women] went out and fled from the tomb; for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid.”  Isn't there more to this gospel?  Most scholars believe additional verses were added to Mark's gospel, because of early Christians' discomfort with ending the gospel on a note of fear.  But if Mark wanted to lengthen his story he could have done so.   But the earliest and most reliable manuscripts of Mark stop just where we stopped today.

Although, as a practical matter, the community for whom Mark’s gospel was written—decades after the events of Easter morning—knew and believed the story of the empty tomb and Jesus' resurrection, I'd like to stay for a bit with the empty tomb and the frightened fleeing women.  Evidence of his resurrection was clear: stone rolled away, tomb empty and a young man in white announcing, “He has been raised, he is not here.” But no one was prepared to understand the evidence.  This moment of is characterized by emptiness—absence of Jesus at that moment and absence of the folks who understand the Good News:  Jesus' sacrificed himself out of love for us to defeat the power of evil and death. And he triumphed!

We sometimes talk about how we must be God's hands and feet in the world to do the work needed to bring reconciliation and peace.  The Great Commission from the Gospel of Matthew says, “. . .go and make disciples of all nations . . .baptizing. . .teaching . . .”   At the end of the gospel of Luke, Jesus says for the disciples to wait until they have received “power from on high,” but he also told them that “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning in Jerusalem.”  But at the end of Mark there seems to be just emptiness and absence and fear.

Yet, the way Mark's gospel ends highlights the power of God to transform even the most desperate of situations. Perhaps we have experienced times when we felt empty and fearful.  We can empathize with the women who fled, being overwhelmed and not being able to receive whatever might help us—most of us have been there, too. 

But then we will have Easter moments--just as the women eventually did (although Mark doesn't tell us about them)!  Our Easter moments have been—and will continue to be—times when our distress and emptiness and fear are filled and transformed by the presence of God.  The “cornerstone” of our lives has been set in place—Jesus Christ lives!  We are now ready to respond as “living stones,” allowing God to place us in proper orientation around our cornerstone, Jesus.  Having experienced the filling of our emptiness, the calming of our distress and replacement of our fear with peace—for the moment at least—we can hear and respond to God's call to live righteous lives, fit for God's kingdom, and to bear witness to his love among all people.

So on this Easter Day let us declare with the psalmist:

“The same stone which the builders rejected * has become the chief cornerstone.

This is the Lord’s doing; * and it is marvelous in our eyes.

On this day that the Lord has acted; * let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Good Friday - Following Jesus' Example

One gospel hymn has us loudly and rhythmically singing, “ I have decided to follow Jesus; I have decided to follow Jesus, I have decided to follow Jesus; no turning back, no turning back.”  Well, if there is any day of Jesus' life that we might choose to turn back from, the Friday we call “good” would be it.  Following a man about to be crucified appears to be the height of foolishness.  Following a man whose followers mostly have disappeared from the scene and are hiding out for fear of their lives seems to be unwise.  Yet now, because we know Jesus' crucifixion on Friday was not the end, we do sing loudly about following him.

But what does “following Jesus” mean?  When we follow, we can learn from his example.  One of our Holy Week hymns addresses what we can learn from Jesus.  Using the verses of this hymn, let's reflect on what Jesus' example during his final days teaches us.

“Go to dark Gethsemane, ye that feel the tempter's power; your Redeemer's conflict see, watch with him one bitter hour. Turn not from his griefs away; learn of Jesus Christ to pray.”

What does temptation mean in a time of darkness?   Give into the darkness or escape it?  Perhaps both—maybe one, then the other.  To rage in anger at what life has dealt. To scream that this intolerable situation must change now!!  But Jesus' conflict had a different quality. His words suggested a conversation with the Divine from whom he had come:  “If it is possible—could there be any other way out—could sin, evil and death be conquered some other way? “ And then hearing none, he prayed as his mother, Mary, had prayed at the Annunciation—your will, O Divine One, be done.

What are our dark Gethsemanes?  What must we do before we are gathered in God's sustaining presence where we become one with God, encompassed in divine love?  Watch, stay present with God, ask to be given insight into the divine will for your life: “learn from Jesus Christ to pray.”

 “See him at the judgment hall, beaten, bound, reviled, arraigned; O the wormwood and the gall! O the pangs his soul sustained! Shun not suffering, shame, or loss; learn of Christ to bear the cross.”

 Is there any pain like my pain?  Is there any suffering like my suffering?  Probably yes; and probably greater even than yours.  These are not pastoral words of comfort.  Indeed, false comfort makes suffering worse. Should suffering be escaped whenever possible?  Oh, yes! Do not seek martyrdom.  Should we relieve pain whenever we have the capability to do so?  Most certainly! Yet our bodies are mortal; they decay; and pain comes.  Our spirits can endure only so much, and they may fail us as well. Unmerited suffering, an attack by someone we called a friend or loved one, loss of what has given our life meaning—many times these place themselves in our path and the path looks too narrow to avoid them.  We may try to fight the unfairness, the betrayal and the shame, but if we lose—and in this life, often we may lose—what is left for us to do?  We can curse God, or we can call on God to stand with us in our suffering: “learn of Christ to bear the cross.”

“Calvary's mournful mountain climb; there, adoring at his feet, mark that miracle of time, God's own sacrifice complete. 'It is finished!' hear him cry; learn of Jesus Christ to die.”

Not all the disciples of Jesus fled and hid in fear.  John's gospel tells us at the foot of Jesus' cross were “his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.”  Here I must take issue with the writer of this hymn text—I don't believe these women felt 'adoration.'  The sacrifice of Jesus' life on the cross to the power of evil, sin and death could only be described as horrific. And yet, and yet . . . will we, recognizing the transforming power of God to turn this horror into blessing, falling on our knees in adoration?  When Jesus said, 'It is finished,' he offered all that he was and all that he had suffered to the transforming power of divine love.  When we place our faith in God's power, in the end, finally to turn whatever has caused our suffering and pain into eternal glory and eternal joy in the divine presence, we can do no more: “learn of Jesus Christ to die.”

May God comfort you in your praying; may God strengthen you for the crosses you must bear and, finally, may God redeem and transform your dying as God did for God's self in Jesus Christ, our Savior.  Amen.

Palm Sunday - Jesus' passion shows us love

“Jesus' passion teaches us what love looks like.”  I put a check mark next to this sentence in the commentary I was reading.  I did this to indicate how important the sentence is for understanding the last days of Jesus' life prior to his death and resurrection.

The word “passion” used to describe Jesus' condition at the end of his life calls attention to his suffering.  This word has so many different shades of meaning in English.  But its Greek root,”pathos,” means suffering.

So how can suffering teach us what love looks like?  What does Jesus' suffering mean for us?  Perhaps we should begin by saying what it does not mean.

Jesus' suffering does not mean that God made him a scapegoat on our behalf.  That point of view suggests that God only could forgive our sins if someone who was much better than we are—without sin—agreed to die in our place. Our sins should have condemned us to eternal suffering. Yet, God's anger at our sinfulness could be placated by Jesus' suffering and dying in our place.   This is NOT why Jesus chose to suffer!

But how should we understand his suffering?  First, his suffering grew out of his Incarnation.  Jesus took our human nature upon himself.  As the church had believed since very early times, Jesus was fully divine AND fully human, although without sin.  He chose this path out of love for us, so he could fully understand what being human really means.  Theologians call this human finitude: Jesus lived in solidarity with us, especially with our limitations, including our suffering.  That why we pray when we—or someone we love—is suffering for Jesus to be with them, to strengthen, to comfort, and to sustain them.

Also, Jesus' manner of suffering showed us how to face the fear of what evil and sin might do to us.  In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus spoke to God from whom he had come:  “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet not what I want, but what you want.”  To finish what he had come to do—to defeat the power of death, to give us the possibility of eternal life—Jesus had to continue on the path to his arrest and crucifixion. To his sleeping disciples, who could not stay awake to pray with him, he said, “The hour has come; the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.”

Perhaps when our times of challenge come, we would rather follow Peter and, out of fear, deny who we truly are—who God has called us to be.  On the other hand Jesus' example can lead us resist injustice without resorting to violence and to become advocates for people in need—the least among us in our society's eyes.  April 4, Wednesday of this week, is the anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King.  He worked to confront racism and to overturn the laws and practices in our country that kept African-Americans from full participation in our society. This is the sort of love that Jesus' passion teaches us.

And finally, Jesus' passion showed how God's love can break through the wall of our separation from God. Feeling abandoned, as we often do in our suffering, Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” God's answer to that cry was to reveal God's self.  As Jesus cried out and breathed his last, the curtain of the Temple, which closed off the holiest space in the Temple, was torn from top to bottom.  As Jesus' passion came to an end, God's love reached across the chasm of our sinfulness and through the curtain of our attempts to deny God's love for us—our attempts to shut God away.  Reconciliation—God's reaching out to us with divine grace as we suffer the effects of our sin and that of others—that's what love looks like in the end!

Yes, Jesus' passion teaches us what love looks like.  Love looks like standing in solidarity with those who suffer.  Love looks like standing up to injustice, despite the fear one might feel, and never resorting to violence.  Love looks like reaching out in forgiveness to offer reconciliation.  And yes, the love Jesus' passion teaches us can come at a steep cost.  It cost him his life.  Are we able to bear such a cost?  Are we able to bear our cross?

The 5th Sunday of Lent - Conflict and Transformation

First comes the downside of change:  “How many Episcopalians does it take to change a light bulb?  Three:  One to call the electrician; one to pour the drinks; and one who says, 'Change [horrified tone], change . . . no . . . don't you know that my great-grandfather gave the church that light bulb?'”

Is there an upside?  Br. Mark Brown, a member of the Society of St. John the Evangelist (an Episcopalian monastic order) posted this observation about change in a daily e-mail sent by SSJE called, “Brother, give us a word.”  He entitled his posting “Tradition.”  This is what he wrote:  “The Church, the Body of Christ, is essentially progressive.  Rooted in the past, grounded in the Eternal, but always renewing, always renovating.”  How positive does that sound to you?

I've spent all of last week—32 hours of sitting, listening, and role playing—attempting to understand and to learn how to deal with conflict using mediation skills—skills rooted in family systems theory.  This class, offered by the Lombard Mennonite Peace Center, took place at Grace Church on Concord Pike.

Both resisting change or renewal and promoting change or renewal often lead to conflict in the church—think Protestant Reformation.  However, according to the curriculum for my week of study, conflict should be approached as positive for the church.  Why? Because conflict, properly handled, can become of a time of transformation—and because conflict has always been a part of the life of the church—think of the conflict between Peter and Paul about the full inclusion of Gentile Christians without their having to obey the laws contained in Torah (the first five books of our Old Testament).

So if conflict is a normal and expected part of the life of the church, how can it become something positive when it feels so uncomfortable?  Because, the Mennonite Peace Center claims, properly handled conflict can result in positive transformation.

Positive transformation can be seen clearly in two of our readings today.  In the reading from Jeremiah God declares divine action will transform humanity's relationship with God.  No longer will God's covenant with them be external, written on stone tablets, but “I will put my law within them and I will write it on their hearts . . . for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. . .”  Torah, the law or instruction about how to live, had been difficult to understand and keep.  Now God, through Jeremiah's prophecy, announced a transformed relationship with God's people.

Knowing God—the path to a close relationship with God's self—would be placed within every one of God's people. And the result of that new covenant was forgiveness of sins—what we call “grace”—God was no longer condemning human beings for our sins.  God had acted to transform our resistance to accepting God's will—to transform our conflict with God's way—into a new relationship.  Indeed, that's what the Mennonite Peace Center maintains can happen when we face conflict honestly and we open our hearts to God's transforming love and power.  Our instructor called this “being hard on issues and soft on people.”

“Soft on people” means being able to make statements of regret to someone with whom you have been in conflict and to accept statements of regret from them.  Then after this exchange both people should be able move on without continuing to hold a grudge about the conflict.  God's assurance of “softness” toward humanity, given through Jeremiah's prophecy said, “for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more.”  Can we open our hearts to this assurance?  Can we listen carefully and offer the same assurance when someone expresses regret to us?

Positive transformation can also be found in the reading from John's gospel.  Jesus uses a mini parable to explain the transformation that will happen through his death and resurrection.  He said: “Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”  But the image of a single, dormant grain becoming an abundance of wheat surely applies to our lives.  Jesus calls it “hating” one's life in this world. 

“Hating” is such a strong term—but like the grain we have to give up our lives as they are and allow ourselves to be transformed in the fertile ground of God's love and forgiveness.  But doesn't this happen when we are baptized, and we are never the same again?  True enough, but we continue to have free will and we continue to make choices that can push us away from God.  Reacting to a conflict with another person by allowing our pain to fester will indeed push us away from God.

Through expressing ourselves with a humble and generous spirit, we can “be soft” both on ourselves and on anyone with whom we have a conflict.  This attitude will allow God to transform us and transform the situation in positive ways. Even in role-plays this week we witnessed God's spirit moving as the person in the role of the mediator coached and encouraged the two people in the role of disputants to find common ground and move past the conflict they had.

As the church—as the Body of Christ—we have a vocation to seek renewal through our openness to the transforming power of God.  Whether we experience God through a heart on which God has written or as the fertile soil that will give us new life, we can find ourselves renewed.  So we need not fear change.  We need not fear ending conflict by making peace with someone else in the Body of Christ. For as Br. Mark explained, “The Church, the Body of Christ, is essentially progressive.  Rooted in the past, grounded in the Eternal, but always renewing, always renovating.”  So as members of the Body of Christ, let us be renewed!

The 4th Sunday of Lent - Accepting Unconditional Love?

To discern the will of God—to know the mind of God:  these phrases express what all who wrote holy scripture, all who read that scripture, all who pray to God, all who worship God seek.  Luke Timothy Johnson, the theologian and scholar, on one of the videos from our Lenten series used a phrase to describe those who wrote what has become accepted as holy scripture this way: “intoxicated with God.”

Most, if not all of us, have either been intoxicated at least once or been with someone who was intoxicated.  This is not such a positive image—in fact, I would call it a negative image.  But I think Professor Johnson is asking us to view “intoxication” in a different way—as being completely overtaken by, completely filled with an awareness of God's presence in one's life and the life of the world.

So each recounting of the history of God's chosen people, each prophecy, each story from the life of Jesus, each letter to the early church with admonitions and theological teaching flows from a state of intoxication with God.  This does not mean that scripture is untrustworthy; rather, it means scripture comes from the hearts and minds of people whose lives have been caught up fully in the divine life of God.

In this divinely “intoxicated” writing, we find many themes.  Two primary ones are: God who judges those who stray from the path of righteousness and God who saves by God's grace and mercy—unmerited grace and mercy—grace and mercy we have done nothing AND can do nothing to earn.  When we allow ourselves to be open to the experience God's grace and mercy, we find ourselves called to respond by suspending our tendency to judge and by sharing God's compassion.  In doing these things we allow God's grace to be manifest in our lives.

I want to share a story with you. It comes from a sermon published online on a website called Day One.  The preacher is a Lutheran pastor and seminary professor, Dr. David Lose. He wrote:  “Tom, a member of our congregation, told me a story. Several nights earlier, Tom's six year-old son, Benjamin, protested his bedtime. Frustrated by his father's refusal to budge, Benjamin finally became so frustrated that he said, "Daddy, I hate you!" Tom, possessing the presence of mind I wish I more frequently had--especially when dealing with my children--replied, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Ben, but I love you." And then what do you think Benjamin said? "Oh, it's okay." Or maybe, "Sorry, Dad. I love you, too." Nope. When Tom told his son that he loved him, Benjamin yelled back, "Don't say that!" Surprised, Tom continued, "But, Ben, but it's true--I love you." "Don't say that, Daddy." "But I love you, Ben." "Stop saying that, Daddy! Stop saying it right now!" And then it came, Tom reported, almost completely unbidden: "Benjamin, now listen to me: I love you...like it or not!"

Dr. Lose continued: “Even at six years old, you see, Benjamin realized that in the face of unconditional love he was powerless. If Tom had been willing to negotiate--"I'll love you if you go to bed nicely"—then Benjamin would have been a player: "Okay, this time, but I'm not eating my vegetables at dinner tomorrow." But once Tom refused to negotiate, refused to make his love for his son conditional on something Benjamin did, then Ben could do nothing but accept or flee that love.”

Yes, that is our choice, too: once we have glimpsed God's love, we can accept God's love or we can flee away.  Those God-intoxicated folks who wrote down their experiences of God, which we read in holy scripture, may have felt like fleeing at times, too.  But in the end they chose to accept God's love and grace.  The psalmist [Psalm 139: 7-12] expressed this well:

“Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,

even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,

even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.”

In the scripture passages we read during Lent, we usually find a theme of God's judgment in them.  Lent should be a time for us to reflect on where we have fallen short of living as people fully responding to God's grace.  But dwelling only on our sinfulness—or the sinfulness of others—cuts off the full picture.  The full picture of God's loving grace appears again and again in holy scripture.  It may be enacted—as when Jesus and his disciples fed the multitude of hungry people with five loaves and two fish.  Or it may be explained—as in the Gospel of John [3:21] with these words: “But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

To discern the will of God—to know the mind of God: let us use this holy season of Lent to read holy scripture, to pray to God, and to listen for God both alone and in our faith community of St. Nicholas'.  May we use this time not only to recognize our sinfulness and ask for forgiveness; but may we use this time to allow ourselves to accept God's grace.  Then through our deeds—within our families, within the life of our faith community, and within the life of the world, may God's grace bring healing and peace.

The 3rd Sunday of Lent - Faith and Commandments

A Lutheran pastor and a Jewish rabbi had been eating lunch at a cafe.  Now they were saying good-bye to each other.  “Keep the faith,” the pastor said as the two friends parted.  The rabbi responded, “Keep the commandments.”  This little story reflects what some see as the two principal aspects of religion: what we believe in and how we will live.

At any particular moment we may emphasize one over the other.  Martin Luther saw the writings of St. Paul, particularly in his letter to the Romans, as saying that salvation comes to us from God by grace through our faith.  On the other hand, in his epistle, James emphasizes the importance of how we choose to live.  In the second chapter James wrote: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith, but do not have works?”  He continues by describing how we should help those in need and by declaring that faith without works is “dead.”  He challenges those who would disagree, “Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith.”  So could keeping the commandments and keeping the faith really refer to the same thing?

So let's look at how God's commandments can be understood in the context of our faith and how our faith can be understood in the context of God's commandments.  One scholar commenting on the passage we heard from Exodus call it “a gift, an opportunity to grow deeper in relationship with God in Christ.”  He goes on to say that these commandments—God's words—help us reflect on how we “fall short of Christ-likeness” and also give us “a roadmap of faith”—could we say a GPS of faith?  Our faith in God as our GPS—what an interesting image!  What destination should we type in?  Heaven?  God?  Will our faith guide us to God by telling us how to get there—by describing what we must do to get to God?  But the brains of the GPS—the processing unit, if you will—would be God's words—the Ten Words—the Ten Commandments.  So when we come to an intersection, a choice point, the commandments will guide us into making a faithful choice, leading us closer and closer to God.

Here is another perspective of how faith and the law are intertwined. In Psalm 19's hymn to the law, we see the law as foundational for faith in God.  The English translation of verses 7 through 9 by the International Consultation on English in the Liturgy makes this obvious:

God's perfect law revives the soul.

God's stable rule guides the simple.

God's just demands delight the heart.

God's clear commands sharpen vision.

God's fautless decrees stand forever.

God's right judgments keep their truth.

We can understand God better and our faith will be supported by hearing how God wants us to live. The theologian Walter Brueggemann wrote:  “These commands might be taken not as a series of rules, but as a proclamation in God's own mouth of who God is and how God shall be 'practiced' by this community of liberated slaves.”

So the “practicing of God” as a way of faith:  In the Gospel reading this morning we heard that when Jesus' disciples saw him drive the animal sellers out of the temple and overturn the table of the money changers, they “remembered that it was written, 'Zeal for your house will consume me.'”  Jesus' consuming zeal that God's house should be holy place, not a market place, appeared to be placing faith in God—not the purity practices of no blemished animals and no Roman money—at the center of the most holy spot for Judaism.

Jesus' zealousness for keeping practices in the Temple faithful to God was carried one step further by his teaching about believing in God's power.  He prophesied: “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” God’s power to redeem what humanity seeks to destroy becomes the sign that Jesus is God's Messiah and our Savior.  The disciples' faith then (and our faith now) has become strengthened through Jesus' zealous words and actions.  For Jesus knew the law: “ . . .you shall have no other gods before me . . . You shall not make for yourself an idol . . .”   No correct coins, no unblemished animals, no pile of stones is more important than a relationship with the living God.

The gift of the law God gave to the recently freed Hebrew slaves at Mt. Sinai to strengthen their faith and bring them closer to God's self became the gift Jesus gave to his disciples, to the people coming to worship in the temple that day, and finally to us.  Jesus' gift was to show us God's commandments, faithfully practiced, should free us from fear.   Because our efforts to keep God's commandments, successful or not, should lead us closer to knowing God, thereby strengthening our faith.

The monk Thomas Merton expressed this thought in a prayer with great eloquence.  You may have heard his prayer before, but let me share it now:

O Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going,
I do not see the road ahead of me,
I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself,
And the fact that I think
I am following Your will
Does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe
That the desire to please You
Does in fact please You.
And I hope I have that desire
In all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything
Apart from that desire to please You.
And I know that if I do this
You will lead me by the right road,
Though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore I will trust You always
Though I may seem to be lost
And in the shadow of death.
I will not fear,
For You are ever with me,
And You will never leave me
To make my journey alone.

So let’s go back to that cafe I spoke about in the beginning.  Were we present that day in the cafe and sitting close enough to hear the Lutheran pastor and the Jewish rabbi bid each other farewell, we might quietly say to God, “I offer you myself as I seek to keep the faith, and seek to keep the commandments.”

Except for the Merton prayer, quotes in this sermon were taken from commentary for the Third Sunday in Lent, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol 2., edited by D. L. Bartlett & B. B. Taylor, p 74-97.