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Sermons may be printed using the Adobe Acrobat version of the sermon. Click on the "printable format" link. If you do not have Acrobat Reader installed on your computer, click on the icon above and follow the simple directions to download it free from the Adobe web site. Eighteenth Sunday
in Ordinary Time (Proper 13) Click here for printable .PDF format Exodus 16.2–4;
9–15 Last week we heard about Jesus feeding of the 5,000. This week we hear that some of those people have followed him to the other side of the Sea of Galilee seeking, what else – more food. Jesus tells them not to desire food that perishes, but food that endures for eternity – which only he, Jesus, can and will give to the people. Apparently the people didn't hear Jesus – he says that he will give them that which endures for all eternity. Give, he says. But the people then ask, "What must we do – what works must we perform – in order to have that which endures for eternity? There are two ways of answering that question of what we must do. We'll start with the most common way of approaching the question of "what must we do." It goes like this: The Bible reveals the will of God. The Bible is the answer book. It informs us of what God wants us to believe, how God wants us to behave, how God wants us to worship, and so on and so forth. Having that which endures for eternity is a matter of obeying every word stated in Scripture, of behaving as God instructs us to behave – in scripture. In this view, the Gospel of Jesus is one more thing, albeit the most important thing, revealed by God. When you believe what the Bible tells you to believe about Jesus, you are righteous – you believe what you are supposed to believe in order to receive that which endures for eternal life. And the same then holds true to the moral laws. When you behave as God tells you to behave in the Bible, you are moral; when you don't, you are immoral. All of the Bible, both the older and the newer parts, is revelation from God and it is all authoritative – all equally authoritative – to be believed and practised without much distinction. As pious as that may sound, it is pretty much the piety of those who opposed Jesus from the beginning. This first answer
is called legalistic Biblicism. It is, however, not THE Gospel. As St.
Paul designates it in Galatians, it is a different gospel, one that
perverts the Gospel centered in Christ and Christ alone. It was Martin
Luther, his comrade Philip Melancthon, and the other Lutheran reformers
who, building on the words of Christ and Paul pointed out the difference
between THE Gospel and that different gospel. Trust in Christ
the only criterion for receiving that which endures for eternal life.
Trust in Christ -- faith – is the only thing that counts for what's
righteous. And trust in Christ is the only criterion for what sin is.
Jesus says later on in John's Gospel, "Sin is that they do not
believe – trust – in me." (16.9) And as St. Paul says
in Romans 14, "whatever does not proceed from faith/trust [in Christ]
is sin." Have faith, have trust, in one thing: The Son of Humanity,
Jesus Christ, is the one who gives – who gives you – the food
that endures for eternal life – himself. Trust that and that alone,
and you are righteous, do not trust that and that alone and we are in
sin. Period. That simple. And it's all a gift – all grace, unmerited,
unwarranted, and totally unearnable. All we have to do is open our hands
and receive it. And even that is a gift from God – we cannot by
our own reason or strength get up the gumption to open our hands. Now, once sinners become connected to Christ through Baptism and are sustained in that connection through the Eucharist, sinners are reborn in Christ, having the mind of Christ – and it really is new life, not life lived under some refurbished "old" commandment, nor, nor is life in the mind of Christ, as Luther put it life under "Moses rehabilitated." Christ now supersedes Moses – not only for salvation, but for ethics. In Paul's language to have the "mind of Christ" means "being led by, walking by, the Holy Spirit." And all of that is given to us, not something we work to achieve through adherence to the law. Over and over, the apostle Paul makes it "perfectly clear" that this is a new "law-free" way of life; as he says in Galatians, "But since you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law." This new law-free life, this life in the mind of Christ, this life under the leading of the Spirit is one lived with humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." The preeminence of this Gospel language puts all other language of Paul and the New Testament into perspective. The Lutheran Reformers clearly saw that some New Testament language is of the "rules and regulations" sort. And so Melancthon writes, "Even the apostles ordained things that have been changed by time, and they did not set them down as though they could not be changed . . . The apostles did not wish to burden consciences . . . In connection with the apostles' decrees one must consider what the perpetual aim of the Gospel is." Indeed, Paul himself said it well: For those in Christ, all things are lawful, but not all things are helpful. Do things that will help people trust in Christ alone; do not do things that will turn people away from Christ. And as the Reformers recognized, those things change with time and culture. This, of course, is what is at the heart of what our sisters and brothers in the Episcopal Church in the USA are grappling with this weekend. In case you haven't been reading the papers or listening to the news, the Episcopalians will be voting today and tomorrow on whether there will be an official rite to bless the unions of same-sex couples and whether or not to ratify the election of a gay bishop in a committed same-sex relationship. From the standpoint of the Gospel and the Lutheran confession the question must be, "will affirming these moves serve the Gospel of Christ?" The answer is likely yes – and no. In many places and for many Christians and for many who do not yet believe or for those whose faith has been shattered by centuries of church-sanctioned hatred, the answer will be yes – by all means. Bless Christ-committed same-sex relationships. Ordain and consecrate Christ-centered candidates in Christ-centered same-sex relationships who are recognized by fellow-believers as having the gifts of the Sprit to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for the building up of the body of Christ. There these moves will bear witness to the Gospel. In other places, where people's trust in the grace of Christ alone is not yet strong – where people are yet "weak in faith" as Paul and Luther put it – the answer, for now, is likely a "no." There will be places where people are still much in bondage to fear, who will not be able to hear the Gospel spoken by a gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender person. Those are places where the predominant question is still, "What must we DO?" Those are places where people cannot yet hear, as you in this place do hear so very well – that the only thing we can do is trust in Christ alone, the one whom God has sent. The only thing we can or need do is trust these words of Jesus and these words alone: "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever trusts in me will never be thirsty." Fifteenth
Sunday in Ordinary Time (Proper 10) Click here for printable .PDF format Amos 7.7-15 Herod knew that John the baptizer was a righteous and holy prophet. When Herod heard John, he was often greatly perplexed, and yet – and yet – he liked to listen to him. I too like to listen to the prophets. I especially like listening to prophets like Amos. What a way that guy has with words!! "Hear this, you fat cows who live in the high places . . . you, who oppress the poor, who crush the needy, who say to your spouses, ‘Bring me more wine!' The Lord God has sworn by all that is holy: The time is surely coming upon you, when they shall take you away with hooks through your noses, even the last of you with fishhooks." Wow!! That's great material for self-righteous ranting at the rich Republicans who run the governments of the land. Amos goes on and on railing at the rich who have plenty of the finest food to eat, who have plenty of time to lounge around on their couches and amuse themselves in idle games while consuming copious amounts of adult beverages, and he skewers the well-off who profit from government givebacks while the poor suffer disproportionate tax levies. That's great stuff for standing in the pulpit and beating up on the affluent. It's great stuff and I like hearing it – until – until I look in the mirror at my expanding middle and the lifestyle that goes with it. And then the words of Amos begin to perplex me just as John the Batpizer's words perplexed Herod. I live on one of the top floors of a luxurious high-rise – and my apartment's large lanai has a killer view of the mountains and the Botanic Gardens and Cheeseman Park. And we have armed guards to protect us from the riff-raff. I have a well stocked liquor cabinet, and a bottle of Añejo Patrón Tequila is always icy-cold in the freezer. I like to buy my groceries at Marczyk's Fine Foods on 17th -- a market with a great cheese counter, an olive bar with every kind of martini olive imaginable, and the best imported foods money can buy. So I really do understand Herod and his dilemma with that pesky prophet named John. My very own lifestyle is a seductive and tempting dance done by a scantily clad hunk of a hot dancer who shimmy-shakes himself up alongside of me and whispers lasciviously in my ear, "Here, have some fine wine to drink – forget the prophet's cries. That justice rolling down like waters stuff sounds nice but you deserve all the good things you enjoy so much -- after all your grandparents worked hard for what you've got. After all, you had the good sense to be born in the United States of America, so you're entitled to be on top of the world. To hell with liberal guilt. Even Jesus said the poor will be with you always. emember, you're
Lutheran, you don't believe in good works. Off with the prophet's head.
You've got the real world to live in." Yeah, I understand this
King Herod fellow and the trouble he had with the dancing girl. I'm
just like him!! The prophet's words are like sower's seed that falls
among the thorns. Like Herod I like to hear the Word, but as I go on
my way, I become perplexed, and the seed is choked by my caring for
the riches and pleasures of life, and the grain does not mature. There is a world of difference between a critic and a prophet. Movie critics, book critics, sports critics – they all criticize, but they themselves cannot make movies, write books, or play sports well. Prophets are something different; they proclaim God's will for a just distribution of the riches of creation – and they live it as well – because that is who God has made them to be, not through their own effort, reason, or strength, but ever, only, and always through the power and strength of the Holy Spirit. And we have this inheritance – through Christ, we have been adopted as the first born children of God, like Christ – completely righteous in God's eyes – children of God who let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-rolling stream. And like the prophets we are sealed in Holy Baptism with the mark of the Holy Spirit so that by the power of the Spirit we might be who we are. And we are fortified at the Lord's Supper, continually given strength to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly before our God. But of course, there
is cost. We are no longer comfortable and at ease here in this realm
where riches come easily to the privileged. We who have been adopted
as the first born of God can no longer turn a blind eye to injustice.
We who are reborn as Christs to the world can no longer settle for a
system in which some of us are rich while most of the world's people
are desperately poor. We whose sins are forgiven according to the riches
of God's grace, and who have been adopted as the first born of God,
we have been anointed with the Spirit to be prophets with our very lives,
and we have a great deal of work to do indeed. 14th Sunday in Ordinary
Time (Proper 9 ) Click here for printable .pdf file format Ezekiel 2:1–5 Jesus speaks the word of God in the synagogue in his hometown and performs deeds of wonder. The people respond by asking, Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?? These are harmless enough sounding words—at least in our time. Carpenters are skilled craftspeople—at least most of them. We need good carpenters and we respect them. It was an entirely different matter in the world of the New Testament. Carpenters and other craftspeople and artisans were of the lower class—somewhere below peasant farmers and only a short step above the outcasts and the untouchables. How can this Jesus, this carpenter, presume to speak a word from God, how can one of such lowly degree presume to claim that he is doing the work and will of God? A carpenter. Indeed. And is not this Jesus the son of Mary? We're used to hearing Jesus called, "Son of Mary." But people in Jesus' time were never referred to by their mother's name—unless, unless the father was unknown. Unless the child was illegitimate. To call someone by the mother's name was to say that that someone was born of scandal. To call someone by his mother's name was to heap shame upon both the mother and the child. It was to say that the mother was of ill repute, that the child was a son of a you-know-what. Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary? A more scornful, scorn-filled question could hardly have been asked. How can one such as this have anything to say that could possibly be worthwhile—how in the world could his words be words from God? How could his deeds be the deeds of God? This low-life bastard! It seems some of the early scribes of the church didn't take to this scandal so well, and so a whole group of manuscripts of Mark's gospel read, "Is not this the son of the carpenter and of Mary?" Nothing like trying to tidy up Jesus' reputation for the squeamish. Then Jesus called
the twelve and sent them out—and told them to take nothing but
a staff—no bread, no bag, no money, just sandals and a single garment.
Travel like beggars—like street people, people to be scorned, people
to be shunned—travel like outcasts and cast off ones. God hides God's
word under that which is lowly, under that which is despised. God comes
to God's people in the form of a low-class craftsman, appearing to be
one born of shame and scandal. And those who are sent out to speak in
God's name come shabbily, frightfully, unappealingly. The Apostle Paul,
that messenger of justification by grace through faith alone, came as
a one-time murderer of Christians. And we heard in the second reading
this morning that Paul is marked by something else, something mysterious,
a thorn in the flesh as he calls it. Was his wrist a little limp, did
he have a lisp? Perhaps he found the baths a far too appealing place
to hang out. Or perhaps his faced was marked by a sexually transmitted
disease. Three times Paul appealed to the Lord about this, that this
thorn in his flesh would leave him. But God said to Paul, "My grace
is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."
"And so," says Paul, "I will boast all the more gladly
of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."
It appears God chooses what is lowly to shame those of us that think
we've got it all together. Who knows where
God is speaking? Who knows in whom the Christ is hidden? Who knows how
God's messengers, God's prophets appear? Perhaps God is speaking to
us through one or more of the hundreds of poor and homeless who dine
here each Monday. Perhaps the healing word of Christ is spoken by a
woman with terminal cancer who filled with radiant faith, fully accepts
her impending death. Perhaps there lurks an apostle of grace in an adolescent
at Urban Peak who has been thrown out by parents who will not hear that
she is a woman trapped in a man's body. You never know—just maybe
Christ is doing deeds of power and speaking words of wisdom in the woman
or man with Alzheimer's disease. Perhaps the newly–elected Episcopal
bishop of New Hampshire and the man who is his partner have been sent
by Christ to cast out many demons and cure the church of its ills. And
just maybe the recovering addict or the convicted criminal have been
chosen to speak a word of gospel to us when we least expect it. May God grant us such discernment to welcome and to hear those who come bearing a word from God, a word that will increase our faith, a word that will make us whole, a word that will cast out our demons and cure us of our curved–in–on–self way of life. To paraphrase from the Epistle to the Hebrews: Let us not neglect to listen to the strange ones, the different ones, the powerfully weak and unique ones for you never know who might be a prophet speaking a word from the carpenter, the son of Mary. The Second Sunday
after Pentecost Click here for printable .pdf format Job 38:1–11 Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side! So—in this morning’s Gospel, why do the disciples cross the Sea of Galilee? Answer one, based on the chicken joke: to get to the other side. Answer two, based on the text: Jesus told them to! Jesus commanded them to cross to the other side. But what’s on the other side? What’s on the other side is unfamiliar territory. What’s on the other side is people who need the love and care of Jesus. What’s on the other side is those who need the ministry of Jesus Christ and his disciples. The storm the disciples encounter at sea represents the storms in the early church as they sought to carry out Jesus’ command “to go to the other side,” to reach out and give care to the other. The storm at sea represents our own fears and anxieties when our ministries take us into difficult and challenging territory. The area where you, the assembled disciples of Christ, are sitting this morning is called the nave. The word nave comes from the Latin word navis, meaning ship or boat. Our word navy comes from the same root. We might say that this congregation, this parish, is the Good Ship St. Paul. Throughout the decades, the people of the Good Ship St. Paul have heard and heeded Jesus’ command to go to the other side. The people of St. Paul, filled with faith, have braved difficult and stormy waters in order to carry out the ministry of Christ that has been set before them. When other Lutheran and mainline congregations left the inner–city, St. Paul remained downtown, braving the challenges and hardships of being a downtown church. The members of St. Paul invested considerable time, effort, and money to remain in the city for good. Among other things that meant entering the difficult territory of advocacy for the homeless, the hungry, the poor, and the chronically mentally ill. It has meant and continues to mean serving the dozens of lost ones who come to our doors each week seeking help and often nothing more than a non–judgmental, listening ear. It continues to mean this congregation’s untiring dedication to Metro CareRing the food shelf that this congregation helped establish close to thirty years ago. It continues to mean that once a week, as it has for fifteen years, this congregation provides a hot nourishing meal to the clients of Urban Peak, an organization that gives care to the homeless and often troubled youth who live on the streets. In the late sixties and seventies, when Capitol Hill became a conter–cultural mecca, St. Paul opened a coffee house and welcomed the flower–children when most people looked upon hippies and peacenicks with fear and loathing. In 1973, the leaders
of the newly formed Metropolitan Community Church of the Rockies, part
of a denomination founded by and for gay and lesbian Christians, approached
St. Paul asking if they could use these facilities for worship and other
parish activities. This congregation said “yes.” It was the
only church in Denver, the only church in Denver, willing to take that
risk, willing to heed Jesus’ command to cross the sea and venture
into unfamiliar territory. And less than a
decade ago, this church voted to become a Reconciling in Christ congregation,
a community that welcomes the full–inclusion of gay, lesbian, bisexual,
and transgender Christians into the life and ministry of the church.
Furthermore, you affirmed that it would be the practice of this congregation
to bless the committed, life–long relationships of same–sex
partners. And only two–and–a–half years ago, you became
one of only a handful of mainline Christian congregations in the United
States to call an openly gay man to be your pastor. And today, members
from St. Paul are marching in the Gay Pride Parade. What’s more,
St. Paul will be one of only two mainline Christian congregations to
have a booth at Denver’s PrideFest celebration. You have heard
and obeyed Jesus’ command to cross over into unfamiliar and difficult
territory. And no, this hasn’t become a gay church—the overwhelming
majority of our members are heterosexual. And the majority of the more
than 50 new members received in the past two years have been heterosexuals
yearning to be a part of a community that both hears and lives the Gospel
of Jesus Christ. A year and a half
ago, this congregation decided to hire a ful–time music director,
a part of whose job would be to establish a music outreach program to
children in the neighborhood who would otherwise have no access to music
education. This fall, Mark Filbert, our Cantor, and the members of the
Music Outreach Ministry team, after many months of hard and intense
ground work, will begin a music education program for 60 or more children
at Ebert Elementary School. Almost all of these children come from economically
challenged environments—and at times as many as 60% of these children
live in homeless shelters. And even before the actual teaching has begun,
there is already a hope on the part of community leaders that St. Paul’s
music outreach program be expanded to include Wyman Elementary School.
A few weeks ago
I was visited by a Roman Catholic Priest, Father Don Sutton. Father
Sutton was representing a group of Roman Catholics whose dedication
to the freedom of the Gospel has put them on the “outs” with
the current bishop of the Denver Archdiocese. This group of protesting
Roman Catholics center their faith in the Gospel words of St. Paul,
that in Jesus Christ we are justified by grace through faith alone.
I told Father Sutton that they sounded pretty Lutheran. He told me that
this group of 30 or so lay people and three dissenting priests did not
wish to either join or start another denomination. They only want to
be free to preach the unconditional good news of Jesus Christ and administer
the sacraments in accordance with that Gospel. They wish to be a dissenting
movement within the Roman Catholic Church. (Sounds radically Lutheran
to me.) Father Sutton then asked if they could use St. Paul as a place
to hold their liturgies, as a place to gather around the gospel and
to receive the Lord’s Supper. The congregation council of St. Paul
at their last meeting reached full consensus that we welcome this Roman
Catholic community. This nascent faith community, heeding the words
of St. Paul that we are all justified by grace through faith, will likely
adopt for itself the name, “St. Paul Roman Catholic Community.”
This community will gather for the first time here this afternoon at
1 PM. In the weeks and months that follow, they will gather each Saturday
evening at 5.30 for their weekly celebration. Have there been
stormy seas in the past as this faith community has set out in obedience
to Jesus’ command to cross the sea into unfamiliar territory? Of
course; just ask our Pastor Emeritus, Bob West. Will there be times
now and in the future when our faith is tried by winds and waves of
fear and anxiety? Of course. The Evil One loves to use our fear of the
new and the different to tempt us away from trusting that Christ is
always present in our boat when we obey his command to set out for the
other side. As the disciples
were on their way to the other side, a great storm arose. But Jesus
rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then
the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. Jesus said to them, “Why
are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” Yes, Lord, we have faith—only help that part of us that is still afraid. The Fifth Sunday
of Easter Acts 8:26-40 Click here for printable .pdf format Last week it was
sheep – today its vines. At other times we talk about bread, about
doors, about foot washers – on and on it goes, week after week,
month after month, year after year – the years stretch into decades
– then a lifetime. We've heard the stories so often, we hardly
listen anymore. They're "old hat." Nothing new here. But when these stories
were first told, they weren't only surprising, they were often shocking.
If we listen closely, we too, may be shocked. As I made my rounds
this week, I was struck by the large number of trees damaged by the
most recent snow fall. Looking closely, I saw that many of the fallen
branches were either rotten or insect damaged. I wondered if the trees
would have suffered so badly had there been judicious pruning over the
years. And in studying today's text, I began to wonder how those unpruned
trees related to our gospel. But then I realized Jesus didn't talk about
trees and branches. He talked about vines and branches. A vine isn't
like a tree with a full trunk and then the branches above it. The branches
of the vine grow from very near the ground – most of the vine is
branches? If the branches of the vine were all pruned away there'd be
no vine. If we then, are
the branches making up God's vine, is John telling us God depends on
us? Now that's an astonishing, even shocking thought; God depending
on us? Surely God doesn't need us to accomplish whatever it is God wants
to accomplish. God would never be so foolish as to depend on fickle
and frail humanity, people who change loyalty on a whim, people who
take advantage of each other – even kill each other. People who're
greedy, often more destructive than helpful. But wait, isn't that exactly
what Jesus is all about? God choosing frail humanity to show us God's
love and God's self? Over the years,
I've come to believe the Gospel of John served as a kind of catechetical
material for the early church. If that's so, then John is teaching new
human converts to the faith about the identity of this other human,
Jesus. A person who had lived among people of whom they were aware.
A person who had lived in a place of which they were aware and in which
some of them may have lived. John uses a variety of analogies to describe
Jesus; door, shepherd, vine, servant (washer of feet), light, word.
But not only who Jesus is, but who we are in relationship to God. We
are those called to abide in Jesus as Jesus abides in us. Vine and branches
become one and the same. When people look at that vine of which John
speaks, what do they see? Do they see us? Do they God? Do they see fruits
produced by that vine? And what fruits do they see or taste? And this is quite
a vine John helps us see, a vine comprised of a bouquet of branches.
Imagine it. A grape vine is a vine comprised only of branches that produce
grapes. John's vine is made of branches, of people, of all shapes and
hues: short, tall, fat, skinny, male, female, brown, black, yellow,
white, rich, poor, and somewhere in between, intelligent, average, politically
conservative, liberal, weak, strong, healthy and not so healthy, straight,
gay, trans-gendered – you complete the list. And with that multiplicity
of branches, can you even begin to imagine the variety of fruit growing
on that vine? What a powerful
and beautiful picture of the people of God, living in community, interdependent,
receiving and sharing the gift of life from the Creator of the universe. But while we envision,
while we see this wonderful picture of intimate bonding on the vine,
of being together, of sharing the sap, the life's blood, of existence
in the same space, we also know the beauty is contradicted. The basic
fact of our existence as a vine is denied. We refuse the exchange of
life that must occur in the vine in order for it to live. Whole nations
are exploited by other nations. Even in our own country millions of
children are malnourished and denied health care. Millions of families
are homeless while luxury condominiums and apartments spring up where
their homes once stood. The vine is desecrated when branches are cut
off, when we shun or disregard those not our type or our kind. The very
life of the vine is enfeebled. Earth, water and air become carriers
of disease and disaster. War and the threat of war becomes our constant
companion. Groups desire to keep power and wealth for themselves, at
whatever cost. But more than pruning, we realize that we as branches on the vine, are beggars all. We stand before God with empty hands accepting God's nourishment so the plant may not only live, but flourish. We are called to choose life at its fullest; and in so doing to let go the many things we may rather keep, things that may be good in themselves, but would hinder the vines existence and growth. Each branch, each of us, is called to make different choices. Thereby the vine is healthy and fruitful. And this old world in which we live desperately needs a strong healthy vine and its fruits. How do we check the health of our vine? We need look no further than the reality and depth of our personal, inward, enduring communion with our sisters and brothers, with each other. You recall, the end of chapter 15, from which today's gospel comes, continues with a command: Love one another as I have loved you. That response to God's gift of life for the vine, is significantly important for the vine's health. The Good News today:
You and I have been called, by name, to walk through the water of baptism,
and so be grafted to – to become an integral part of the vine –
to become the vine – and thus nourished from God's generous hand,
to provide fruit for a hungry world. And as they see, as we see the
beauty of the vine – as the world tastes, as we taste the delicious
fruit of the vine, they and we will taste and see God and God's love. The Fourth Sunday
of Easter Acts 4:5–12 Click
here for printable .pdf format Jesus said, "I am the good pig farmer." Sounds pretty odd doesn't it? And so it must have sounded to the ears of those who heard Jesus say in John's Gospel, "I am the good shepherd." And while this isn't true of pig farmers, shepherds in the early New Testament world, as you've heard me say before, did not have the best of reputations. Shepherds figure prominently in Rabbinic lists of thieving and cheating occupations. This classification of sheep herders as notorious robbers and cheats means that like the publicans and tax-gatherers, they were considered unclean and were deprived of religious and civil rights. The Rabbis ask with amazement how, in view of the despicable nature of shepherd, one is to explain that fact that God is call "my shepherd" in the Twenty-third Psalm. Jesus compares himself to one of the lowly ones, one of the despised. And then he says that the good shepherd -- yes, even the rejected can be good -- lays down his life for the sheep. We're so used to hearing all of this that we miss its inherent craziness. Let's go back to the pig farmer metaphor. I am the good pig farmer. The good pig farmer lays down his life for the pigs. Now what sort of pig farmer would lay down her or his life for some pigs? Sure, sheep and pigs are cute, but no human being in his or her right mind would die for an animal. Jesus not only likens himself to one of the lowly and despised of his culture, but to one who is crazy enough to die in place of an animal. St. Paul says, "God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God." Such a foolish exchange, that Christ, the lowly shepherd Christ would exchange his life for us, his sheep – or if you prefer, that Christ the pig farmer would give his life for us pigs. But the foolish exchange has only just begun. In Easter we celebrate that in our baptism we have risen with the Christ who died for us – our old self, the self of this dark world, the self of this valley of the shadows – has been exchanged for a new self – a Christ self. And so says John in our second reading, "that just as Jesus Christ laid down his life for us – we ought to lay down our lives for one another." The foolish exchange keeps turning. First Christ becomes foolish, exchanging his life for ours; then baptized into his resurrection, his Easter, our old selves are exchanged for Christ's self and then we become foolish, laying down our lives, exchanging our lives for the lives of others. It is our turn, as the body of Christ, to be shepherds to the world. Like all that is mystery, it is impossible to objectively define what if means to be shepherds to the world. Surely there are a thousand different ways to "love not in word or speech but in truth and action." But it is clear that we who have the world's good cannot see a brother or sister in need and yet refuse help. Now I don't know about you – but it's at this point where I start feeling a little – oh, inadequate, maybe. That's putting it mildly. I know there's a big part of me that's real good at the word and speech part – I can talk a lot about love, but I'm not so good in the "truth and action" department. I know the old self is alive and well – the piggish part of me that says, "I ain't giving up my life for no sheep, no pig, no body." I am by nature, sinful and unclean. We are all in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. On our own, we cannot be shepherds to the world who love in truth and deed. Wretched pigs that we are, how do we become like Christ, giving of ourselves for the life of the world? The early Church heard the Twenty-third Psalm as not just for funerals only – but as a Psalm that tells us how God makes us to be like God sees us – how God makes us Christ-like. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want; he maketh me to lie down in pastures green." The green pastures are the proclamation of the Word and catechesis, the life-long study of scripture within the faith community. "He leadeth me beside still water, he restoreth my soul." These are the waters of baptism in which we are given the very heart of Christ – and we return to that promise daily. "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil, my cup overfloweth." The table of the Lord's Supper, the Holy Eucharist, the bread of life and the overflowing cup of salvation is prepared for us to give us the strength to be who God has made us to be – even in the presence of all that tempts us. And in baptism we were given the Holy Spirit, and the cross of Christ was marked in oil upon our foreheads forever and against that sign nothing shall ever prevail – not even our own selfishness. Little children, let us love, not in word or speech but in truth and action. I cannot tell any of you how you will live that out in your daily lives. We must each of us decide for ourselves how we will love, we must each of us decide how we will give of our lives for the sake of others. What is clear is that the good shepherd, or the good pig farmer, if you will, shall lead us to love as fully and deeply as we have been loved. What is clear is that those deep and scary valleys of self-giving love always come with a guide – and you need have no fear. God is with you and goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of your life and you shall dwell in the house of the Lord your whole life long. The Third Sunday
of Easter Click here for printable .pdf file format Acts 3:12–19 To put it succinctly
and bluntly, this morning’s first reading from Acts gives me the
creeps. It gives me the creeps. Peter addresses the people, saying,
“You Israelites, you rejected the Holy and Righteous One and asked
to have a murderer given to you, and you killed the Author of life.
You Israelites, you killed Jesus.” It gives me the creeps. |
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