The Beauty of Small Things: Reflections on John 6.1-21 & Ephesians 3.14-21 (RCL Proper 17B, 25 July 2021)

 

         Every once and a while a particular scriptural text will fire the imagination of a community of Christians in a given place and in a given time.  Martin Luther, for example, was captivated by that section of Paul’s letter to the Christians in Rome that declares that we are justified by faith through God’s gracious gift rather than by our pious works.  From this spark grew the fire of reformation that spread throughout the western Christian world and, even today, continues to fuel Christian thought and action.

 

         What happened to Martin Luther happened to those responsible for the creation of The Book of Alternative Services during the late 1970’s and early 1980’s.  They were captivated by a portion of today’s reading from the letter to the Christians in Ephesus.

 

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine; to him be glory in the church and Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.  Amen.  (Ephesians 3.20-21 NRSV)

 

This sentence summed up their firm belief that we, the disciples of Jesus, are not mere bystanders in God’s on-going work of re-creation, reconciliation and renewal.  We are co-workers with God, actors in the great drama of the kingdom of God unfolding in our world.

 

         And so, at the end of the eucharist, we who have heard the Word and shared in the holy food offered at this holy table are sent forth, commissioned just as Jesus commissioned his first disciples as agents of the kingdom.  We give praise to God even as we re-commit ourselves to the work of the kingdom.  You know it well.  Say it with me now.

 

Glory to God, whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.  Glory to God from generation to generation, in the Church and in Christ Jesus, for ever and ever.  Amen.  (BAS 214)

 

These are powerful words.  They are easily said but are difficult to fulfill.

 

         When Jesus and his disciples find themselves surrounded by a large crowd of hungry people, the disciples first response is to send them into the neighbouring villages and countryside to fend for themselves.  But Jesus is having none of this.  ‘What resources do you have,’ he asks.  ‘Precious little,’ the disciples answer.  ‘Use them and let’s see what happens,’ Jesus responds.  I have little doubt that the disciples feared for their lives as they began the distribution.  Hungry crowds have little patience when they discover the food has run out.  But it doesn’t run out and there are even left-overs.

 

         Twenty years or so ago I was chairing a meeting of a committee of the Native Ministries Program at Vancouver School of Theology.  No arrangements had been made for lunch, so I made some suggestions about where folks could find a meal.  I apologized that I hadn’t been shopping so I was not able to offer lunch at my home on campus.  One of the members of the committee said, ‘That’s one of the differences I notice when I’m in a city from when I’m at home in my village.  Here you apologize for not having enough.  At home we invite you and figure out how to make due with what we have.  Rarely does anyone complain about being hungry afterwards.’

 

         So often we find ourselves looking so closely at what we do not have that we cannot see what we do have.  Sometimes we are hindered in our actions by a perception of scarcity that we find ourselves taking no action at all.  Yet the last two years have proven that we are actually ‘richer than we think’.

 

         In 2019 few if any of us here at Holy Trinity Cathedral had any idea of how to make use of digital technology.  But we did not throw up our hands in despair.  We had a Facebook page and a website and, when asked, parishioners provided the financial resources to purchase the hardware to do more.  Last Sunday I officiated at the marriage of a couple who came to us because of our on-line presence.  In September we will have the baptism of an adult and in October two people confirmed who also came to us in the same way.  Glory to God, whose power working in us . . . !

 

         In 2019 COVID achieved what snow, rain and winds could not:  we had to suspend our breakfast program.  But our dedicated volunteers would not be stopped.  Plans were made.  A new day and time were identified.  The Archbishop was sent a plan.  We resumed our program and have become a distribution point for another program that serves several other churches with food resources.  The City of New Westminster and the United Way have provided financial and other resources.  Glory to God, whose power working us . . . !

 

         Today Laurel joins us as a disciple of Jesus Christ.  She’s just one small person who does not yet know fully what being a disciple means, but the possibilities are more than we can imagine.  She will bring her own gifts and insights into the midst of this peculiar people we call the church.  She will surprise us with her questions and with her glimpses of God’s wisdom hiding just beyond our immediate sight.  But it’s through the small things that God begins the greatest work.

 

         God can and is doing infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.  All God needs is for us to use the gifts we have in confidence and in hope.  After all, we’re the living proof of the power of one young woman’s ‘yes’ to an outrageous request from God’s angel.  It’s amazing what’s possible in a world such as this. 

 

         

Speaking the Truth: Reflections on Mark 6.14-29 (RCL Proper 15B -- 11 July 2021)

            Whenever we read the Bible, it’s not too hard to create our own list of heroes and villains, saints and sinners.  But if there’s one thing that the Bible teaches us about human beings is that we are rarely only one or the other.  Almost every hero or saint has flaws and weaknesses, every villain or sinner the possibility of redemption.

 

            So I admit that I have some sympathy for Herod Antipas.  He’s definitely a villain, but his was a family that, as the saying goes, put ‘fun’ in ‘dysfunctional’.  His father killed Herod’s older brothers, wrote a will giving most of his territory to Herod, then, during his final illness, changed the will to give Herod a smaller inheritance.  If this wasn’t bad enough, Herod Antipas didn’t quite measure up in the Roman imperial system that determined a person’s prestige in terms of authority, power and dignity.

 

            Romans took authority very seriously.  Authority meant the right to give orders, to make decisions and to enforce obedience.  The source of one’s authority was found in the political structures and offices of the state.  Poor Herod Antipas owed his authority to the good will of the Roman emperor and other regional officials more than to his status as a son of Herod the Great.  So, on a scale of 1 to 10, Herod Antipas was a 5 at best.

 

            Romans also had considerable respect for power.  A powerful person possessed the resources to impose their will upon others.  If one had money, land and armed supporters, then they could easily coerce others, even those who might possess legitimate authority.  Now Herod Antipas was far from being impoverished, but his power was always kept in check by the fact that his territory was surrounded by thousands of Roman troops.  Even his boundaries were set by Roman officials.  The one little war he fought he lost to his sister, not a good thing by Roman standards.  So, let’s give him a 3 out of 10 on the power scale.

 

            But the most important quality in the Roman imperial society was dignity, the quality of being worthy of honour or respect.  Dignity might be a product of one’s exercise of authority and possession of power, but even Romans had to admit that there were enslaved and oppressed people whose dignity could not be denied.  Poor Herod Antipas was despised by his own people as a collaborator who was living in an incestuous relationship with his brother’s wife.  In the eyes of Rome and of his neighbours, Herod Antipas was just another petty regional ruler whose primary value was to administer lands that served as a buffer between Rome and the other empires to the east.  He wasn’t even a king – he was a tetrarch, ‘the ruler of a fourth’.  So, perhaps we could give him 1 out of 10.

 

            Herod could do the math as well I.  He knew that he was a very small fish in a very large pond.  9 points out of 30 doesn’t inspire awe.

 

            So there’s a lot behind one single verse in today’s gospel:  “. . . for Herod feared John, knowing that [John] was a righteous and holy man, and [Herod] protected him. When [Herod] heard [John], he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.” (Mark 6.20)  Even though John was a fierce critic of Herod, his prophetic words touched that place in Herod’s soul that longed to be more than just a vassal of Rome, that part of Herod’s soul that sought to be a faithful Jew, to be a good man.

 

            But Herod was too entangled in the cultural and social spider’s web of his time.  Like any insect caught in such a web, Herod was drained and his moment of redemption passed.  In only a few years after John’s murder, Herod and his wife will be betrayed by another of his brothers and will end their lives in exile in Spain disappearing from history around the year 39.

 

            I recently came across a quotation from Walter Brueggemann, biblical scholar, theologian and preacher, that describes the prophetic role we have to play in today’s world so that saints and sinners, heroes and villains, might be led to that dignity Herod Antipas let slip away when he murdered John the Baptist.

 

            Our first prophetic task, Brueggemann says, is ‘to tell the truth in a society that lives in illusion’.  We all know that there are many people in our neighbourhoods, in our communities, in our country and in our world who cannot see the real challenges we are facing in building a world for our grandchildren.  We suffer from the illusion that ours is a free and open society with equal opportunity for all.  In our baptismal commitment we promise to respect the dignity of every human being, but we know that obstacles continue to be raised that prevent many groups of people within our society from being fully respected.  This illusion and many others like it need to hear the same voice that John used to try to bring Herod Antipas into the truth.

 

            We also have the prophetic task to grieve in a society that practices denial.  The worst injustices visited upon aboriginal peoples and other peoples in Canada are part of our past.  Their ripple effect disturbs our present and disrupts our sense of progress.  Grieving is more than lowering flags to half-mast and promises for change.  Grieving is allowing the full force of our shared past and its wrongs to shake us, to bring us to our knees in penitent prayer and to compel us to demand action from those who exercise authority and who have power.

 

            But perhaps most importantly, we have the prophetic task to express hope in a society that lives in despair.  In some parts of the world that despair is a quiet acceptance of the status quo, while in other parts of our world that despair is genuine hopelessness in the face of unending sorrow and oppression.  Change is not possible without hope.  John called ‘. . . for people to be baptized to show that they were changing their hearts and lives and wanted God to forgive their sins’ (Mark 1.4 CEB) because the kingdom of God was drawing near.  Our message to our friends, families and neighbours is that within each and every one of us is the authority and power to change the world, piece by piece, neighbourhood by neighbourhood, heart by heart.  When God raised Jesus from the dead, God showed us that we are not meant for condemnation but for abundant life with each other, with God and within our very selves.

 

            What Herod Antipas failed to realize is what generations of villains have failed to learn.  You may chop off the head of a prophet who disturbs you by appealing to your ‘better angels’ and think you’ve silenced that uncomfortable voice.  But God has a habit of raising up more prophets who will continue to seek to restore your dignity and the dignity of every one of God’s creatures.  We will speak the truth so that illusions are shattered.  We will grieve so that denials sound as empty as they are.  We will express hope so that despair gives way to a shared vision of a renewed humanity.  For the kingdom of God is at hand – indeed, it is already here for those who have the eyes to see, the ears to hear it, the hearts to love it and the hands to shape it.

Looking for Christ in All the Wrong Places: Reflections on Mark 6.1-13 (RCL Proper 14B -- 4 July 2021)

 

            Although I grew up in a region of the United States where country music was popular, it was not part of the musical atmosphere of my home.  At home we listened to popular music, classical music and musical theatre.  This is not to say that I never heard country music.  I heard it coming from neighbours’ homes, from the cars of my friends and others, even from the in-store music where we shopped.  But, given a choice, I would not have chosen a country music station or bought a country music recording.  I probably even yielded to the temptation to look down on those who did.

 

            In the late summer of 1980 I was on the road from my home in Colorado to my theological college in southern Wisconsin.  I had just crossed the state line into Nebraska and, for the next four hours, was in an area where the only radio stations were either broadcasting agricultural information or country music.  Since I wasn’t interested in soy futures or pork bellies, I chose the strongest country music station.

 

            About an hour into Nebraska I heard a song that I’ve always thought to be a song about the good news of God in Jesus.  In truth the song is about a man who after many failed relationships and false starts has finally found his one true love.  But for me, a theology student on his way to begin his final year of studies before ordination, I heard a slightly different message.  The song was Johnny Lee’s ‘Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places,’ a song that appears in the soundtrack of the movie Urban Cowboy.

 

            With few exceptions, most of us have experience of looking for love in all the wrong places.  Perhaps we’ve sought love in material possessions.  But we soon discover that possessions really aren’t interested in a mutually life-giving relationship with us.  We even feel from time to time that they own us rather than the other way round. Perhaps we’ve sought love by seeking the approval of others.  We reach our goal of gaining the approval of a particular person only to discover that our hunger for approval still gnaws at us.  So we strike out in search of the approval of someone else to satisfy our need.  The wrong places where we look for love are almost endless.

 

            Even when we find love in the right place, we are aware of how fragile that love can be.  It requires tending.  It goes through dry places.  It can be a roller-coaster ride of joys and disappointments.

 

            For those of us who have chosen to be disciples of Jesus of Nazareth, we know that in following him we are looking for love in the right place.  Unlike material possessions, Jesus does not try to rope us into maintaining them.  Unlike the yearning for the approval of others, there is nothing you or I have to do or to be in order to know that we already have what we are seeking – the unconditional love of God made flesh in Jesus and breathed into us through the Holy Spirit.

 

            But having found love in the right place, we cannot pretend that it’s easy to nurture this life-giving and life-affirming relationship.  We are human beings, made in God’s image which is the ability to love and to be loved, yet still seeking to live in God’s likeness which is loving knowing that the more we love the more love there is.

 

            Sometimes we even look for Christ in the wrong places and cannot see him where he already is.  The people with whom Jesus had grown up and lived could not believe that this carpenter’s son could be the promised messiah.  Surely the messiah would come from a princely family or be a mighty warrior or be able to summon heavenly hosts to drive out the Romans and their collaborators.  They could not see the messiah in their midst, so they could not experience any ‘miracles’, any signs that God’s promised reign was already among them bringing life and hope.

 

            Even when Jesus sent his disciples out to share the good news that the kingdom of God was at hand, he warned them that they would not be welcomed everywhere they went.  After all, if it’s hard to believe that the son of a carpenter is the messiah, it’s not likely very easy to believe that a motley crew of fisherfolk, tax-collectors, rebellious zealots and a few women of no particular social standing are messengers of a new way of living in relationship with God.

 

            But that’s exactly where Christ is to be found.  Christ is found wherever two or three are gathered in his name to be his friends in the world.  Even more importantly, Christ’s friends aren’t supposed to just hang around together; they’re to go out into the community to speak and to act in Christ’s name.  Just as he sent out his disciples two thousand years ago, two by two, with only what they could easily carry, so he sends us out with the only supplies we need – our selves, our souls and bodies, reasonable and holy offerings for the work before us.

 

            God in Christ and through the Spirit has given every disciple of Jesus authority over what Mark calls ‘the unclean spirits’.  Whatever Mark meant by ‘unclean’ spirits, I know what I believe to be the ‘unclean’ spirits of our own times – any of the ‘isms’ that perpetrate evil or deny justice or foster violence or disregard the dignity of every human being or shatters the integrity of God’s creation.  While we must ‘think globally’, what God desires of us is ‘to act locally’ using the resources, knowledge, skills and experiences we possess to free God’s children.  The great lie is that we do not have such authority; the great truth is that we do and that we have a responsibility to act on that authority.

 

            There will be those who are not interested in what we have to say nor in what we do.  There will be those who suggest that such a motley crew such as the disciples of Jesus in today’s world are hardly capable of confronting the ills of our world.  There will be those who believe that our failures of the past disqualify us from being agents of God’s present work and future vision.  They are looking for Christ in other places.  Perhaps God will surprise them there; I cannot deny God’s freedom to act where God chooses.

 

            But I do know where there is a right place to find love and to find Christ.  It’s here in this community and the many other communities like it throughout the world.  People are looking for this love and we have opportunities to invite them to come.  They may say ‘no’.  They may say ‘perhaps later’.  They may say ‘yes’.  All we can do is to say, ‘Come.  Look here where we have found love – and where Love has found us.’