Occasional thoughts of an Anglican Episcopal priest

Category: Luke (Page 20 of 26)

One of Those Weeks (Salvation Belongs to Our God) – Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter – April 21, 2013

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This sermon was preached on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, April 21, 2013, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Fourth Sunday of Easter: Acts 9:36-43; Psalm 23; Revelation 7:9-17; and John 10:22-30. These lessons can be read at The Lectionary Page.)

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Etching of the Heavenly Throne RoomIt’s Good Shepherd Sunday . . . the Fourth Sunday of the Easter Season is always Good Shepherd Sunday. Every year, regardless of which of the three years of the Lectionary cycle we are in, we hear some lessons which mention shepherds or lambs, and we recite the 23rd Psalm as the Gradual, and we sing every “Shepherd hymn” in the hymnal. I’ve been preaching Good Shepherd sermons for 25 years, so I pretty much thought this was going to be one of those Sundays when I could just “wing it” and preach extemporaneously.

But it’s not. The events of the past week have made this a Good Shepherd Sunday unlike any that has come before. This Good Shepherd Sunday, as I read the words of the 23rd Psalm, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil,” (Ps. 23:4) I cannot help but be aware of all those who, unknowingly, were in that very place on Monday afternoon; I cannot help but think of Boylston Street, Boston, as “the valley of the shadow of death.”

Today’s Gospel lesson is John the Evangelist’s story of an event that happened before Jesus’ crucifixion, something that happened as he was teaching in the Jerusalem Temple. “The Jews,” which is John’s way of naming the temple authorities (the priests and scribes) gathered around Jesus and put him on the spot. “Are you the Messiah?” they ask, “Tell us plainly.”

Jesus’ answer is to say that he has said as much and that it is plain to those who are his sheep, because his sheep understand what he says: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27) They hear what I say; they understand my words; and they do what I tell them.

Well, maybe . . . .

Let’s be honest. Understanding Jesus and doing what he says aren’t always very easy. For example, St. Luke tells us that Jesus said, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.” (Luke 6:36-37) And St. Matthew tells us that he commanded, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matt. 5:44) I know what those words mean, but when it comes to the events of this week, they are not easy to obey.

But . . . OK . . . let’s give it a try. Our prayer book heritage gives us words to pray when we cannot think of the words ourselves, so let’s give this praying for those who hurt us a try using some of those prayers:

O God, the Father of all, whose Son commanded us to love our enemies: Lead them and us from prejudice to truth: deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge; and in your good time enable us all to stand reconciled before you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer 1979, page 816)

Into your hands, O Lord, we commend Tamerlan Tsarnaev, as into the hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful Savior, praying that he may be redeemed in your sight. Wash him, we pray, in the blood of that immaculate Lamb who was slain to take away the sins of the world; that, whatever defilements he may have contracted in the midst of this earthly life being purged and done away, he may be presented before you pure and without spot; through the merits of Jesus Christ your only Son our Lord. Amen. (Adapted from the BCP 1979, page 488)

O God, whose mercy is everlasting and whose power is infinite; Look down with pity and compassion upon Dzhokhar Tsarnaev; and whether you visit him to test his fortitude or to punish his offences, enable him with your grace to submit himself willingly to your holy will and to your judgment. O Lord, go not far from him or any person whom you have laid in a place of darkness; and seeing that you have not cut him off suddenly, chasten him as a father and grant that he, duly considering your great mercies, may genuinely turn to you with true repentance and sincerity of heart; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (Adapted from the Book of Common Prayer of 1789, A Form of Prayer for the Visitation of Prisoners.)

This is what our Shepherd requires of us, that we pray for the repose of the soul of Tamerlan Tsarnaev and for the salvation Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, even though we find it very difficult to do.

When I was still practicing law, I had occasion to defend a dentist whose hobby was sculpting. One of the pieces he showed me was a very nicely done, and in most respects very traditional, Crucifix. What was nontraditional about it was the expression on Jesus’ face; it was contorted in obvious and quite extreme rage.

I asked him about that saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Christ depicted in that way, and I can’t say that I’ve ever conceived of this reading any of the Gospels’ crucifixion stories.” He answered by asking me, “You know in the Gospel according to Luke when Jesus says, ‘Father, forgive them . . . . ?’ I’ve always heard that as angry, as Jesus saying to God the Father, ‘You forgive them because, right now, I can’t.'”

If you, like me, are having some difficulty in praying for those two boys, let these prayers be offered in that same spirit. We pray for God to take them, for God to forgive them, because right now, we can’t. We know exactly what Jesus meant but right now, we can’t do it. So we ask our Shepherd to do it for us. Because, as the multitude witnessed by St. John of Patmos cried so clearly, “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Rev. 7:10)

That’s one of the Good News lessons for today, for this week, I think. Jesus asks us to pray for and forgive those who do us wrong, but if we can’t, he can do it for us. We don’t need the fancy words of prayers out of the prayer book tradition. We just need Jesus’ own words, his words on the cross, “Father, forgive them.” That’s really all we need to say, “Father, forgive them.” Because even if we can’t, he can.

I think the other Good News lesson for this week is in something else Jesus says in today’s Gospel lesson: “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.”

Yesterday, I was at a diocesan leadership conference and, as you might expect, during the break times, our conversations centered around the events of the week.

A colleague commented at a diocesan meeting this morning, “It’s been one of those weeks.” My first thought was, “One of what weeks? There aren’t very many weeks like this!” The more I thought about it, however, I think maybe every week is like this. Every week people die. It’s an uncomfortable reality, but it’s true. Every week people die. It’s nothing to fear, however. I remember hearing a bishop (it may have been Desmond Tutu) say that being a Christian means (among other things) accepting the fact that you have already died. Certainly that is the witness of scripture: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.” (Rom. 6:3-4) And, again, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Col. 3:2-3) And, again, “The saying is sure: If we have died with him, we will also live with him.” (2 Tim. 2:11) The very meaning of the Easter Season which we continue to celebrate is that death has been conquered, and that to God’s faithful people “life is changed, not ended; and when our mortal body lies in death, there is prepared for us a dwelling place eternal in the heavens.” (BCP 1979, page 382)

And every week people do awful things to other people. Sometimes those things are hugely catastrophic for many people, like the bombs at the marathon finish line. Sometimes those things go unseen by nearly everyone except the one injured, like the bullying that has led so many teens to commit suicide. Such things, awful things happen all the time. But . . . “Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.” (Isaiah 40:28-29) And, again, “The Lord upholds all who are falling, and raises up all who are bowed down.” (Psalm 145:14) And, again, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philip. 4:13) The very meaning of the Easter Season which we continue to celebrate is that the power of God overcomes anything, any-awful-thing, the evildoers of this world can throw at us.

Not very long after the bombs exploded in Boston, comedian Patton Oswalt posted a reflection on his Facebook page in which he said:

I remember, when 9/11 went down, my reaction was, “Well, I’ve had it with humanity.”

But I was wrong. I don’t know what’s going to be revealed to be behind all of this mayhem — one human insect or a poisonous mass of broken sociopaths.

But here’s what I DO know. If it’s one person or a HUNDRED people, that number is not even a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a percent of the population on this planet. You watch the videos of the carnage and there are people running TOWARDS the destruction to help out. (Thanks FAKE Gallery founder and owner Paul Kozlowski for pointing this out to me). This is a giant planet and we’re lucky to live on it but there are prices and penalties incurred for the daily miracle of existence. One of them is, every once in a while, the wiring of a tiny sliver of the species gets snarled and they’re pointed towards darkness.

But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evildoers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation. We would not be here if humanity were inherently evil. We’d have eaten ourselves alive long ago.

So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerance or fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, “The good outnumber you, and we always will.”

I think that is the reality to which Scripture testifies; I think that is the triumph of Easter — that the good will always outnumber the evil. “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.”

So I guess my colleague was right. It’s been one of those weeks . . . a week when life was changed for some, a week in which the Presence of God helped people get through some really awful stuff, a week when the good outnumbered the bad. It’s been one of those weeks. Every week is. Thanks be to God!

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

What Is the Good of That? – From the Daily Office – April 16, 2013

From the First Letter of John:

God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he first loved us. Those who say, “I love God”, and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 1 John 4:16-21 (NRSV) – April 16, 2013.)

Homeless Man Sleeping on the StreetIn the 1989 movie Romero starring Raul Julia as the martyred Archbishop of El Salvador, there is a scene in which Father Manuel Morantes (played by actor Tony Plana) paraphrases these words of the elder John: “How can we love God, whom we have not seen, if we do not love our brothers and sisters whom we do see?” It is clear from the setting that what Father Morantes means by “love” is not merely romantic emotion; it is not starry-eyed sentimentalism; it is not impractical idealism. What Father Morantes means, and what I believe the elder means in this letter, is hard and gritty, down-to-earth, hands-on, practical caring about and caring for others.

In the 10th Chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus affirms that the way to salvation includes both loving God and loving one’s neighbors as one loves him- or herself. A lawyer challenges Jesus with the question “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus’ answer is to tell the story that has come down to us with the name The Good Samaritan, illustrating the concepts of love and neighbor with an appeal to action, to tending the wounds of the victim of a mugging, to nursing that victim back to health, to providing him food and shelter . . . hard and gritty, down-to-earth, hands-on, practical caring about and caring for another.

Recently, the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, which is sort of the governing body of Roman Catholicism in this country, has instituted a program they call Two Feet of Love in Action. The first “foot” is social justice which addresses the political and economic aspects, the structural dimensions of social problems and their solutions. The bishops call upon Roman Catholics to work to address the root causes of social issues by advocating for just public policies and working to change social structures which contribute to suffering and injustice. The second “foot” is charitable works, which are very simply our response to immediate needs and specific situations: feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for and healing the sick, visiting those in prison, and so on. This includes all activities to aid or assist others both locally and globally to meet immediate, short-term needs.

I think the Roman Catholic bishops are on to something – love of neighbor, love of brother and sister, is a two-pronged action: reforming structures and meeting immediate needs. In the 2nd Chapter of the Letter of James, the writer asks a pertinent and poignant question: “If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?” (James 2:15-16)

Love of brother and sister is the hard and gritty, down-to-earth, hands-on, practical work of caring about and caring for others, reforming structures and meeting immediate needs. What is the good of anything else? Those who do not do this for the brothers and sisters whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen!

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Fear & Trembling in Easter Season – From the Daily Office – April 13, 2012

From the Gospel of Luke:

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.'”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Luke 4:1- 4 (NRSV) – April 13, 2013.)

Climbing a LadderIt seems odd of the Lectionary to put us back to the beginning of Lent when we are not quite halfway through the season of Easter, but here we are, reading once again about Jesus’ temptations in the desert following his baptism.

Perhaps it’s not odd at all, however. Our spiritual life, like our emotional life, follows no particular schedule, no orderly progression. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross outlined the theoretical five stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance – but clinical experience has shown that a grieving person does not move neatly through them as if they were rungs on a ladder. One may move from denial to anger to bargaining and then return to denial; one may skip a stage only to return to it later; one may spend a good deal of time in one stage and only a short while in another. There is no orderly progression.

Perhaps that’s the message of today’s rehearsal of Jesus’ forty days of temptation in the desert. As one works through the process of enlightenment, of salvation, of spiritual growth, of whatever-one-calls-it, one does not follow a schedule. We may move back to an earlier stage, revisit issues we thought we’d dealt with.

St. Paul urged his friends in the church at Caesarea Philippi to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” (Philip. 2:12-13) Nowhere does Scripture promise that this work will be neat and tidy. If anything, the witness of Scripture is that spiritual and emotional growth is a messy affair.

Perhaps that is why Paul described salvation as something that comes with “fear and trembling,” and perhaps it is why, in the midst of Easter, we are taken back into the desert of temptation.

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Faith, Works, Fruits – From the Daily Office – April 12, 2013

From the First Letter of John:

Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous. Everyone who commits sin is a child of the devil; for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The Son of God was revealed for this purpose, to destroy the works of the devil. Those who have been born of God do not sin, because God’s seed abides in them; they cannot sin, because they have been born of God. The children of God and the children of the devil are revealed in this way: all who do not do what is right are not from God, nor are those who do not love their brothers and sisters.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 1 John 3:7-10 (NRSV) – April 12, 2013.)

The Fruits of the SpiritIt’s been several days since I last offered one of these meditations. I took time off to deal with a family medical issue and then there was Holy Week and then there was Easter and then there was something else and then . . . . Life can become a series of excuses for not getting things done. John, in this first catholic epistle, will brook no excuses, no procrastination. Get it done! Do what is right, for that is righteousness; “all who do not do what is right are not from God.”

Among my favorite verses of Scripture is James 1:22 – “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves” – which I guess is why I could never really be a Lutheran (of any sort). Luther condemned James as a “straw epistle” because, apparently, its author’s insistence that “religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (1:27), and that “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead” (2:17) conflicted with Luther’s insistence on a Pauline doctrine of justification by grace through faith alone. I wonder what Luther made of John’s insistence that the righteous actually do something . . . .

I am an Episcopalian by choice. If I was schooled in any sort of religion as a child, I was reared in the American Campbellite tradition on my mother’s side of the family and in the Methodist tradition on my father’s; but the truth is, my nuclear family was pretty much unchurched. So when I was in high school I made my own decision about a church to attend and, when I experienced the worship and ministry in the Episcopal Church, I knew was “home.”

One of the things I most appreciate about our tradition is our insistence that a professed faith has active consequences; in our liturgy of baptism, these are laid out in the Baptismal Covenant. I preached about that last Sunday when I had the privilege to preside at a baptism. I won’t get into that again; I would just ask my reader to read that sermon (the last posting on this blog).

Righteousness is not just about works; justification is not just about faith. It’s not either-or; it’s a both-and sort of thing. (That’s something we Episcopalians and Anglicans say a lot, “It’s a both-and sort of thing.”) Belief produces results; faith is made alive in works; the Spirit brings forth fruit. As Someone once said, “You will know them by their fruits.” (Matt. 7:16) But that same Someone suggested that there is a limit to how long one can procrastinate before actually doing something, before actually bearing that fruit. Remember the parable about a fruitless tree which ended, “If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down”? (Luke 13:-10) There is a limit to procrastination and to excuses, so be about it; whatever it is that your faith requires of you, get it done!

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

The Leaflet in the Lou – From the Daily Office – March 19, 2013

From the Letter to the Romans:

But what does it say? “The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart” (that is, the word of faith that we proclaim); because if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved. The scripture says, “No one who believes in him will be put to shame.” For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Romans 10:8-13 (NRSV) – March 19, 2013.)

Public Restroom SinksIn my opinion there is probably no more misused piece of writing in all of Holy Scripture, unless perhaps it is Paul’s other toss-off line (in this same epistle): “For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law.” (Rom. 3:28 NRSV) Both of them have led people to a religion that is all talk and no walk, which I am quite sure was not Paul’s intention at all!

I went to high school pretty much in the absolute middle of the United States. The geographic center of the U.S. is just outside the small town of Lebanon, Kansas. I went to high school in Salina, Kansas, about 100 miles away. At the time, and probably to this day, it is pretty much conservative, evangelical Christian territory. There are a few nutty Episcopalians, but not many; a few more good German Lutherans and just about as many good German Catholics. But the conservative, evangelical traditions rule the roost.

One of the things I most remember about my high school years in the center of the country are the evangelical Christian pamphlets that one would find distributed in, of all places, the public restrooms of filling stations and coffee shops. I know that sounds weird, and frankly it is weird! But almost without fail, anytime I would make use of such public facilities in the late 1960s I would find a small pamphlet on the wash basin counter, on the back of the toilet, or on top of the urinal telling me that all I needed to do to be saved and escaped the fires of Hell was “confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead.” That’s all. Nothing more.

That always struck me as nonsense. Even to a 14-year-old high school freshman, it just seemed like there ought to be more to it than the five-step outline for salvation set out in the public restroom pamphlet (and which I’ve subsequently seen enumerated elsewhere):

  1. Hear the Gospel (Romans 10:17)
  2. Believe the Gospel (Mark 16:16)
  3. Repent of sins (Luke 13:3)
  4. Confess Christ. (Matthew 10:32)
  5. Be Baptized for the remission of sins (Acts 2:38).

It seemed like poppycock because pretty regularly the priest in my church would recite other passages of Scripture: “Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.” (Matt. 7:21 KJV) was his favorite offertory sentence. And I recall more than one sermon in which he made reference to the Letter of James with its (to me, at least) cogent reasoning:

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith.

The leaflet in the lou seemed not even to require faith. I know it says that one step is to “Believe the Gospel” and another to “Confess Christ,” but those only require intellectual ascent, not faith. Just because one accepts the factuality of the Jesus story, and possibly even tells others about it, doesn’t mean that one trusts in Jesus as Lord and Savior. So even though it might have been parroting Paul in the 10th chapter of Romans, it seemed to have overlooked the 3rd chapter. And it’s authors had clearly dismissed James’s conclusion that “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.”

It’s not that the five steps in the bathroom broadside are wrong. It’s that they are incomplete. There are so many more steps – feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for the ill, visiting the prisoners, housing the homeless, selling everything you own and giving the money to the poor, not being a stumbling block to others, loving your neighbor, and many many more. One can’t just talk the talk; one must walk the walk; one must take the journey.

Salvation is a journey of many steps through many places doing many things. Salvation is not achieved with five simple steps communicated through a community water closet!

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Ambassadors of Christ: Welcoming the Prodigal – Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent – March 10, 2013

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This sermon was preached on Sunday, March 10, 2013, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Lent 4, Year C: Psalm 32; 2 Corinthians 5:16-21; and Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32. These lessons can be read at The Lectionary Page. At St. Paul’s Parish, during Lent, we are using the Daily Office of Morning Prayer as our antecommunion; therefore, only these two lessons and the psalm were read. The Old Testament lesson, Joshua 5:9-12, was not used.)

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5 Hands Grabbing Water RingThe picture on the front of the bulletin today is one I found on the internet several months ago and which I just found intriguing. I can’t recall what I was doing or reading or searching for when I ran across it, but it grabbed my attention and seemed to me to be a great illustration for baptism and the baptismal covenant set out in The Book of Common Prayer.

That covenant of five promises is made immediately after the person being baptized or, if an infant, his or her parents and Godparents have affirmed their faith in the word of Apostles’ Creed as we shall do in a few minutes. The baptismal pledges are made in answer to five questions, to each of which the answer is, “I will, with God’s help:”

  • Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?
  • Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
  • Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
  • Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
  • Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

Think of the ring of water in the picture as representing the sacrament; the five hands trying to grasp it, the five promises of the covenant.

We are told in the Catechism at the back of prayer book that living up to these promises is the way we, as the ministers of the church, both lay and ordained, pursue the churches mission:

Q. What is the mission of the Church?
A. The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.
Q. How does the Church pursue its mission?
A. The Church pursues its mission as it prays and worships, proclaims the Gospel, and promotes justice, peace, and love.

“To restore all people to unity with God and each other.” That’s what Paul is talking about in the lesson we have today from the Second Letter to the Church in Corinth: God “reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us.” (2 Cor. 18-20)

Reconcile is an interesting word. It has three parts, actually to prefixes and a base verb, all from the Latin. The base verb is calare (or cilire in this combined form); it means to call. The first prefix is “con-” which means “together.” Our word council comes from this combination; a council is called to together to accomplish something, to make a decision, to govern an organization or a political subdivision. The next prefix is “re-” which means “again.” Reconciliation is the act of calling together again . . . and again . . . and again. It isn’t something done only once; it takes time and it on-going effort.

We have a story of reconciliation in the Gospel story this morning, the familiar story of the prodigal son. We all know this story, but let me just quickly recap what it’s all about.

In Jesus’ time in First Century Palestine the typical pattern of inheritance was that the first-born son would receive two-thirds of his father’s wealth, and any other sons would share the remaining one-third. (Daughters got nothing other than their dowries.) In this story there are only the two sons, the younger of whom decides he doesn’t want to wait for Dad to die. “Give me my inheritance now!” is his demand of his father, a demand which is highly insulting to the father. He’s basically saying, “I wish you were dead. I’m done with this family. I’m leaving.” And that is what he does.

The boy takes his money and goes off to sew his wild oats, which he does with a vengeance! He blows the whole thing, the entire sum; however much it may have been, he spends it all. This, by the way, is what “prodigal” means! To be prodigal means to spend one’s money or resources with extravagance, lavishly, abundantly, profusely, often to the point of complete depletion. Doing so is not necessarily a bad thing! In the context of this story, of course, there is an implication of negativity, that the younger son is a wastrel, a spendthrift, a good-for-nothing idler; his older brother, when he returns home, certainly seems to think so. But Jesus’ point is not to criticize the younger brother, and Jesus does not condemn profligate spending of resources. You may remember this story told in Matthew’s Gospel:

Someone came to [Jesus] and said, “Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?” And he said to him, “Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good. If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments.” He said to him, “Which ones?” And Jesus said, “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; Honor your father and mother; also, You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” The young man said to him, “I have kept all these; what do I still lack?” Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When the young man heard this word, he went away grieving, for he had many possessions. (Matthew 19:16-22 NRSV)

So lavishly disposing of one’s wealth is not the moral issue here.

As we are usually led through consideration of this story our focus turns to the father who is said to represent God, a loving and generous parent who forgives the wastrel son and welcomes him back with open arms. Certainly in the father we find an example of the reconciliation which is our baptismal ministry, but if the father represents God, then the reconciliation is God’s doing, not ours . . . and the Cathechism clearly teaches us that we are to be the ministers of reconciliation — or as Paul puts it, we are the ambassadors of Christ.

What if, instead of the father, God is another of the characters in this story? What if God instead is the prodigal who seems so irresponsible? I am here borrowing from journalist and seminarian David R. Henson who asks:

What if God is the God who comes to us in the disguise of those we despise, those who have hated and killed us, rejected us and abandoned us, those who annoy and frustrate us most, those who are excluded?

In the guise of the sinner, the debauched, the prostitute, the unclean, the enemy, the unsavory, God comes to us and challenges us to participate in a radical, irresponsible hospitality that turns the rules of polite society upside-down.

And if God comes to us as this, how do we respond? As the father does, subverting social norms and opening his life to the chaos the prodigal brings? Or as the brother does, maintaining society’s values but closing off his life to loving the Other?

In this parable, Jesus is asking us whether we will entertain angels, even if the angels look to us like demons, like exactly what we fear and loathe. He is asking us whether we can overcome our prejudice and the oppression of religiosity to open our arms enough to embrace the Other, the other who is actually our closest kin. (Patheos)

Katherine Grieb, who teaches at Virginia Theological Seminary, also suggests that the father in the parable is not a figure for God. She writes, “What happens if we focus on the man who had two sons and read this parable as an answer to the question the Corinthians might have asked Paul: What does it mean to be an ambassador for Christ?” In other words, the father is us; the father is the one to whom is given the ministry of reconciliation. The father in the parable “models grace-filled responses [of reconciliation] — to the teenager who says, “You’re the worst parent in the world, I wish you were dead!” — to the awkward penitent — to the passive-aggressive rule keeper.” Grieb recalls theologian Karl Barth who suggested that “if Jesus himself had not left the Father and traveled into the far country to share a table with sinners, we would still be there, eating those pig pods. Shouldn’t Christ’s ambassadors also request a table in the sinners’ section?” (The Real Prodigal, The Christian Century, March 9, 2004, p. 21)

There is a communion hymn that is one of my favorites. It’s not in our hymnal, although I wish it was; I would have selected it for today. It is entitled God and Man at Table Are Sat Down (and I know that’s not “inclusive language” but bear with me and remember that man for centuries was considered a generic term). It begins with a description of the church at worship . . . .

O, welcome, all ye noble saints of old
As now before your very eyes unfold
The wonders all so long ago foretold.
God and man at table are sat down.

Elders, martyrs, all are falling down;
Prophets, patriarchs are gath’ring round.
What angels longed to see now man has found:
God and man at table are sat down.

But then it veers away from that noble and comforting description of the holy people of God gathered from across time, and names a few other folks who are to be welcomed to the banquet:

Beggars, lame, and harlots also here;
Repentant publicans are drawing near.
Wayward sons come home without a fear.
God and man at table are sat down.

In the Episcopal Church we have what we call “the sacrament of reconciliation,” auricular confession to a priest; you can find the formal rite of confession in the Prayer Book beginning on page 447. It’s a wonderful thing to be able to offer that. But I believe the true “sacrament of reconciliation” is what we offer and celebrate at this table. Here, as ambassadors of Christ with a ministry of reconciliation we are to welcome prophets, patriarchs and matriarchs, martyrs and saints, but more importantly we are to invite and embrace, again and again, the beggars and the wastrels, the prostitutes and the pimps, the passive-aggressive rule keepers and the insulting teenagers.

Paul wrote, “From now on, we regard no one from a human point of view,” neither saint nor sinner, neither patriarch nor prostitute, neither martyr nor miscreant; “everything old has passed away . . . [and] everything [and everyone] has become new!”

If we grab that water ring, if we live up to our baptismal pledges, if we carry out our mission of reconciliation, if we are truly ambassadors for Christ, I think the greatest thing that could be said of us is “These people welcome sinners and eat with them.”

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Reverence and Intimacy: The Burning Bush – Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent – March 3, 2013

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This sermon was preached on Sunday, March 3, 2013, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Lent 3, Year C: Exodus 3:1-15; Psalm 63:1-8; and Luke 13:1-9. These lessons can be read at The Lectionary Page. At St. Paul’s Parish, during Lent, we are using the Daily Office of Morning Prayer as our antecommunion; therefore, only these two lessons and the psalm were read. The epistle lesson, 1 Corinthians 10:1-13, was not used.)

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Red Berry BushSome years ago, during the summer of 2000 to be exact, I was one of about a dozen adults who chaperoned 87 teenagers on a ten-day tour of northern Italy. One of the pieces of advice given our group by the organizing tour guide was that the young ladies would not be allowed into Italian cathedrals wearing shorts or tank-tops. She suggested that they take with them, and always have on hand a light-weight over-blouse and a large scarf that they could tie around their waist to form a sort of skirt. This caused no amount of amusement among our group 17- and 18-year-old, Twenty-First Century, American girls, but it only took one time being escorted out of a church by a stern Italian nun for them to realize how serious the advice was and to never again forget to put on their overshirts and their wrap-around skirts.

On one occasion at the Duomo in Milan, I had to intercede when one of our young ladies was being hustled out of the church even though she appeared to be appropriately dressed. It turned out that she had slipped off her shoes to cool her feet on the chilly marble floor. Bare feet, it seemed, were as unacceptable as bare legs or bare shoulders.

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The Holy Families – From the Daily Office – March 2, 2013

From the Gospel of John:

After this Jesus went about in Galilee. He did not wish to go about in Judea because the Jews were looking for an opportunity to kill him. Now the Jewish festival of Booths was near. So his brothers said to him, “Leave here and go to Judea so that your disciples also may see the works you are doing; for no one who wants to be widely known acts in secret. If you do these things, show yourself to the world.” (For not even his brothers believed in him.) Jesus said to them, “My time has not yet come, but your time is always here. The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify against it that its works are evil. Go to the festival yourselves. I am not going to this festival, for my time has not yet fully come.” After saying this, he remained in Galilee.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – John 7:1-10 (NRSV) – March 2, 2013.)

Holy Family IconThirty or so years before the episode described here by John, Mary “gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” in a town called Bethlehem. (Luke 2:7) We are told here and elsewhere that Jesus had brothers, and his brothers were named “James and Joseph and Simon and Judas.” (Matthew 13:55) He had sisters, too, but their names are not reported in Scripture.

We know next to nothing about his family life. His siblings are not mentioned in the two stories we have from his childhood and adolescence. One supposes it was pretty typical of his time and place. We are told that a Jewish man in First Century Palestine live a life of hard, physical labor either in the farm fields or in the workshop. His wife prepared meals, kept the house, made and washed clothing, and bore and cared for the children. Babies were breastfed, and weaned after 18 months to 3 years. At the age of 13, boys entered adulthood and were apprenticed to learn a craft. Although there is no evidence that boys at the time underwent a ritual bar mitzvah as current Jewish adolescents do, Shmuel ha-Katan a Talmudic scholar writing at the close of the First Century AD does indicate that the completion of the 13th year marked the age for responsibility to the Law. Girls assisted their mothers with domestic work and rearing the younger children; at the age of 12 they were eligible to marry.

If we assume Mary’s and Joseph’s family followed this pattern Jesus and his siblings lived together for at least their formative years. Furthermore, it appears from this story (and others in the Gospels) that as adults the children lived nearby. This seems to have been a tightknit family, although maybe one with some issues. Modern psychology has shown that first born children hold the exclusive attention of the parents and grandparents until the birth of the next child. This is believed to allow for the development of a confident individual who is certain of his place and does fear competition. Jesus would certainly seem to live up to this expectation.

Eventually, the first born does have to deal with the challenge of newcomers. The second born usually ends up in a fight for attention that starts even before he or she is weaned. The expectation that the second will achieve the same standards as the older sibling can result in self-undercutting behavior or in over-achieving behavior in competition with the elder sibling. We don’t know who was the second child in this family; if the listing of Jesus’ brothers’ names in Matthew’s Gospel is in birth order, perhaps it was James. Given that James later became the first Bishop of Jerusalem, that is an interesting possibility.

The arrival of more brothers and sisters may lead second and later children to “middle child syndrome” where the child, being neither youngest nor oldest strives to find a rational role to fill within the family. The youngest children of a large family can face a variety of confusing relationships. Could this be the reason that “not even his brothers believed in him?”

Of course, all this is speculation. We don’t, as I said before, really know anything about Jesus’ early family life. Nor do we have any basis for supposing that the family of Joseph and Mary conformed to these modern psychological stereotypes. What we do know is that Jesus grew up in the bosom of a family, reared by a loving mother and foster father, surrounded by brothers and sisters. In doing so, he sanctified family life in whatever form it may come – large families like his own, childless couples, single-parent households, same-sex couples with or without children – in whatever configurations human beings may form themselves into household units, those families are holy families because each, in its own way, replicates the family in which the Son of God was reared.

The Book of Common Prayer (1979) of the Episcopal Church includes a traditional prayer for families. I’ve edited it to be more inclusive than the original:

Almighty God, our heavenly Father, you set the solitary in families: We commend to your continual care the homes in which your people dwell. Put far from them, we pray, every root of bitterness, the desire of vainglory, and the pride of life. Fill them with faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness. Knit partners together in constant affection. Turn the hearts of the parents to the children, and the hearts of the children to the parents; and so enkindle fervent charity among us all, that we may evermore be kindly affectioned one to another; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

A Promise Beyond the Horizon – Sermon for the Second Sunday in Lent – February 24, 2013

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This sermon was preached on Sunday, February 24, 2013, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Lent 2, Year C: Genesis 15:1-12,17-18; Psalm 27; and Luke 13:31-35. These lessons can be read at The Lectionary Page. At St. Paul’s Parish, during Lent, we are using the Daily Office of Morning Prayer as our antecommunion; therefore, only these two lessons and the psalm were read. The epistle lesson, Philippians 3:17-4:1, was not used.)

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Abraham Friend of God, artist unknownSeveral years ago – 33 to be exact – Bruce Dern starred in a little-remarked movie entitled Middle Age Crazy; it dealt with the main character’s midlife crisis of turning 40 years of age.

Dern’s character is a construction company owner who has made it big by building taco stands for a successful chain. He’s married to Anne-Margaret (at least, Anne-Margaret plays his wife). He has a nice car, a nice house, a swimming pool and (as a friend reminds him) a jacuzzi. By the standards of success in 1980, he’s doing very well. But turning 40 has him questioning all of that.

At one point during the movie, he is attending his son’s high school graduation and begins to fantasize what he would say to the graduating class. He would start, he thinks, by criticizing graduation speeches that tell the kids they are “the future.” That’s nonsense, he says: “You can’t all be the future. There’s not that much future to go around.”

“If you’ve got any sense,” he tells the high school seniors, “give ’em back their [bleep] diplomas. Give ’em back their silly [bleep] hats and stay 18 for the rest of your life. You don’t want to be the future. No, no. Forget the future.” The future, he tells, them is absolutely awful! In the context of a story about a man dealing with a midlife crisis, it’s a very funny scene . . . but the truth is, it’s a tragic speech. (You can see the speech on YouTube. Be warned, however, I’ve cleaned up the quotations; Dern drops the “f-bomb” several times.)

It not only fails to be forward and future looking, it positively rejects the future, preferring a static and juvenile present. That is a tragedy!

In contrast, we have our spiritual ancestor Abram . . . 75-year-old Abram, as-good-as-dead Abram (according to both Paul and the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews), set-in-his-ways Abram, but willing-to-move-into-the-future Abram.

In Chapter 12 of the Book of Genesis, Abram is told by God to leave his home in Ur and travel to a land that God will give to him and to his offspring, and that God will make him the ancestor of many nations, and Abram does as he is told. But after journeying through several lands, all the way down into Egypt and then back up into Canaan, Abram and Sarai still have not had any children, so we find him in today’s reading in Chapter 15 a little bit anxious about that. He is afraid that this “offspring” are really going to be the children of his servant Eliezer of Damascus.

Abram said, “O Lord God, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?” And Abram said, “You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir.” But the word of the Lord came to him, “This man shall not be your heir; no one but your very own issue shall be your heir.” He brought him outside and said, “Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your descendants be.” And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness. (Gen. 15:2-6)

There are the important words in this story: “He believed the Lord, and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.”

Unlike the character in Middle Age Crazy, Abram trusted in the promise of the future. The trouble with promises, of course, is that they entail waiting. No one likes to wait, but Abram is content to do so. Waiting on a promise of God, trusting in God, is what we call “faith”. Abram, or Abraham as he came to be known, is the prophet of faith; in fact, one of the titles given him in religious tradition is “the Father of Faith”.

Several years ago when our children were very young, we took a family “road trip” from our home in the Kansas City area back to Las Vegas so I could take part in a friend’s wedding. We stopped along the way to see the sights such as the Palo Verde Canyon in Texas, the Acama Pueblo in New Mexico, the Grand Canyon in Arizona, and so forth. Each morning we would tell the kids where we were going and what we expected to see and, of course, not long after we hit the road each day one of them would ask, “When will we get there? Are we there yet?” I don’t recall when I finally lost my patience with their impatience, but somewhere along the way I cautioned them as they got into the car, “We will get there when we get there. Don’t keep asking if we are there yet – understand?” We’d driven for a while, maybe an hour or two, when our son Patrick spoke up and asked, “Will I still be alive when we get there?” A promise of the future entails waiting, and sometimes we are just too impatient to wait.

Abraham the prophet of faith is presented to us in Lent, I think, as a challenge. Abraham’s faith in God’s promise that he would have offspring, despite all appearances to the contrary, challenges us to ask whether we have believed in the future God promises us with the kind of belief that can be reckoned as righteousness.

Now, please note one thing. Abraham believed God about the promise of offspring, but still asked God how he could know that the promise of possession of the land would be fulfilled. And God accepted his questioning, and offered as proof a demonstration of God’s power: “Bring me,” said God, “a heifer three years old, a female goat three years old, a ram three years old, a turtledove, and a young pigeon.” (Gen. 15:9) Abraham did so, and when it was dark, “a smoking fire pot and a flaming torch passed between [the] pieces” Abraham had prepared from the sacrificial animals. At that point, God said to Abraham, “To your descendants I give this land, from the river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates.” (vv. 17-18)

There are two things about this promise: first, it is for a future Abraham would never see because it is to his descendants that the land will be given; second, it is a promise of something that cannot be fully seen by anyone. This tract of land stretches from the Nile in the southwest to the Euphrates in the northeast; wherever one may be in this vast territory, most of the promised area is beyond the horizon.

This text reminds us that a life of faith, a life lived in reliance on God’s promise is not about immediate gratification nor even about our own benefit. Living a faithful, righteous life is about moving forward into a vision that extends beyond our own lives. A faithful, righteous life is lived in deep expectation coupled with patient belief that God’s promises will be fulfilled.

This is the life to which the People of God are called, all of the descendants of Abraham, not only the Hebrews, not only the people of ancient Israel and Judah, not only the Chosen People of the Covenant, but also ourselves. For as St. Paul assured the Galatians, “those who believe are the descendants of Abraham.” (Gal. 3:7) And it is the failure of God’s People to believe in and trust that promise that the prophets decried in ancient Israel. When the prophets declared God’s judgment, it was their intent that those upon whom the judgment would fall might know their predicament, repent, and be rehabilitated. The prophets pronounced judgment in the hope of salvation. When the prophets lamented over Jerusalem, their sadness over a distressing state of affairs assumed that God would hear their cry and has turn that which was lamentable into something good.

The powers-that-were in Jerusalem, of course, did not want to hear this. They had no more patience with the future, no more vision for it, than did Bruce Dern’s character in Middle Age Crazy. They were perfectly happy with the status quo and, like that character, wanted to stay 18 forever! In terms of Jesus metaphor in the gospel lesson today (Luke 13:31-35), they wanted to remain chicks forever!

That is an extraordinary metaphor, by the way. As theologian William Loader says, “It speaks of being like a hen seeking to gather chicks throughout Jerusalem’s history. It cannot refer to Jesus’ short ministry. How can he speak as though he has been regularly present in Jerusalem over centuries? The context indicates that each prophet has been an embodiment of the hen gathering her chicks.” As the Logos of God from the beginning of time, Christ was present in the prophets. Jerusalem, the center of political and religious power, refused to heed the prophets in whom Christ himself was present; instead, it killed them. Unlike their ancestor, the descendants of Abraham were not people of faith who believed the promise and waited patiently for its fulfillment.

Dr. Arland Hultgren, a Lutheran theologian, says, “It is right, even inevitable, when dealing with this text, to ask about the present. Who or what is the ‘Jerusalem’ of the day in which one lives? Is it the political and civic sphere? Is it the religious sphere? Or is it both?” Maybe it’s us . . . .

Lent gives us the opportunity to reflect upon that question, to examine our own lives; it permits us to heed God’s call to live a faithful life, a life moving forward into God’s vision for us, for our church, for the world, knowing (as Abraham knew) that that vision may extend far beyond the horizon of our own lives. And, God assures us, it will be reckoned to us as righteousness and the promise will be fulfilled. Amen.

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

The Possibility Is Just Too Wonderful – From the Daily Office – February 23, 2013

From the Psalms:

Lord, you have searched me out and known me;
you know my sitting down and my rising up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You trace my journeys and my resting-places
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Indeed, there is not a word on my lips,
but you, O Lord, know it altogether.
You press upon me behind and before
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain to it.
Where can I go then from your Spirit?
where can I flee from your presence?
If I climb up to heaven, you are there;
if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there your hand will lead me
and your right hand hold me fast.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 139:1-9 (BCP version) – February 23, 2013.)

Multiple Worlds IllustrationA few days ago I wrote about my interest in superstring theory, m-theory, and the multiverse concept which springs from my life-long love of science fiction and the especially the “alternate reality” sorts of tales. I suggested that Jesus’ miracles might have been accomplished by his somehow accessing an alternate reality to affect this world; that would imply some sort of access to knowledge of those other universes.

I’ve never believed that the human Jesus had access to the divine mind in that way, so I’m not sure how I feel about that implication. Or maybe a spiritual connection to another reality doesn’t require that; perhaps that sense of and access to a healthier reality is what the Celts are onto with their idea of a “thin place”. Perhaps there are places where the divisions between the universes are permeable, and perhaps there are people who, like Jesus can sense that, and draw the realities together. Perhaps the ability to do this is what Jesus promised his disciples when he said, “If you do not doubt in your heart, but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you. So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” (Mark 11:23-24) I know that’s a lot of “perhapses” . . . . but that’s part of what meditation is all about, imagining the possibilities.

And it is possibilities and alternate realities, and the question of God’s knowledge of them, that grab my attention today as I consider the evening psalm. The psalmist sings of God’s knowledge, which is all encompassing; God’s understanding of the psalmist’s existence is inescapable. In theology this is call “omniscience”; God is described as “all knowing.”

If there is only a universe, a single reality, this would mean that God knows the past, the present, and the future of the one-and-only timeline, and this gives rise to the doctrine of predestination, a sort of determinism: if God knows ahead of time what will happen, then events in the universe are effectively predetermined from God’s point of view. I have a lot of difficulty with predestination because, if it is true, then Jesus promise that “the truth will make you free” (John 8:32) is hollow. There is no freedom in a single universe whose future is determined.

But what if m-theory is right and there are alternative realities, an infinity of them? What if what God “knows” is not the future of a single reality, but all the multiplicity of possible outcomes? What God “knows” in that case is not what must be, but what might be. God knows, for example, what will become of Schrödinger’s cat . . . in every possible outcome there may be.

The multiverse theory is much too complicated to lay out in a brief theological reflection (and I’m certainly not the theoretical mathematician who could do so, in any case), but at its highest level it simply postulates that any universe that is mathematically possible has equal possibility of actually existing: if the physicists and mathematicians can get it to work out on paper, even if it can’t exist in this universe, it would exist “somewhere”. And, I would suggest, the God of possibilities would know about that universe.

God’s omniscience over a multiverse reality truly is “too wonderful for me.” It is also, from my point of view, much more exciting than any deterministic, single-universe idea that God simply knows the future of a solitary timeline. It means that God is the God of possibility. “For God all things are possible,” said Jesus (Matt. 19:26) And again, “What is impossible for mortals is possible for God.” (Luke 18:27) And again, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible.” (Mark 14:36)

Søren Kierkegaard wrote, “Inasmuch as for God all things are possible, it may be said that this is what God is: one for whom all things are possible . . . God is that all things are possible, and that all things are possible is the existence of God.” (The Sickness Unto Death) For Kierkegaard, human existence is not confined to the known, to one concrete, “factual” reality; a multitude of possibilities is fundamental to human life. The human soul is released by possibility; it is possibility that makes us free.

Superstring theory, m-theory, the multiverse hypothesis . . . these are the new science of possibility. Our omniscient God is the God of possibility. And possibility is the truth that sets us free! That is just too wonderful!

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

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