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Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

May 26, 2019

6 Easter C

One of the great blessings of my childhood was that my grandmother still lived in the house she and my grandfather bought before my mother was born. And while my grandmother had so thoroughly rearranged the inside of the house after my mother left the nest that only my grandmother’s bedroom and bathroom were their original location, so far as my siblings and I could tell, nothing ever changed in that house. The same old Readers Digest magazines were there every time we visited during our entire childhood. The same unopened bottles of salad dressing were in the cabinet year after year, until my sister and I threw them out in 1990. The furniture never moved. The same photos of us as little children were on the tables in the den long after we were all in our 20's. Not only did we love going back to the house where our mother grew up, and where everything stayed the same, we could also play with the children of the friends our mother had always known. My grandmother’s friends who came over every late afternoon, had come over every late afternoon for the last 50 or so years, and they had watched our mother grow up. Miss Minnie Lee, Mr. Ben, Miss Fannie Mae, and Mr. Jack were characters a child was not likely to forget. Not only were we in the same house where our mother grew up, we were also part of the very same community. Not much changes in Headland, Alabama even over a span of decades and no one else in our family had lived in a house that long, or been part of a stable community that long. While we enjoyed visiting other relatives in other places, we never experienced the sense of home that we did in Headland, Alabama.

I am reminded of my grandmother’s home and the sense of permanence the house and the community held for us because three of our four readings this morning mention "home" in one way or another. In the reading from Acts, we hear about the travels of Paul and his companions to exotic places like Troas, Samothrace, Neapolis, and finally Philippi, which was their destination. Paul and his companions stayed in Philippi for some days, where they met Lydia, who, with her whole household, was baptized. After they were baptized, Lydia said "If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home." Which they did.  Paul and his companions had traveled a great distance by boat, which might have been the fastest form of transportation available but was not exactly a luxury cruise.  What a gift to stay in someone’s home where there could be good, leisurely conversation over a warm meal, a comfortable place to sit and relax, and perhaps soft mats for sleeping! In response to the gift of baptism, of being welcomed into the household of God, Lydia offered the gift of hospitality, welcoming others into her home.

In the reading from Revelation, the writer has a vision of the new Jerusalem, coming out of heaven from God. The physical temple in Jerusalem where the Hebrew people worshiped was destroyed in 70 C.E. and the people longed to once again be people of a place and a temple in which they could worship and know God’s presence. According to the writer of Revelation, in the new Jerusalem there will be no need for a temple, a particular place to call their spiritual home, where God is worshiped and known. In the new Jerusalem, the very presence of God and the Lamb will make the city a spiritual home for all people, as the nations and the kings will be drawn to it. The whole city will be a place of light and life where God’s presence is known.

Lastly, in the gospel reading, we hear Jesus say to his disciples "Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them." Then Jesus tells the disciples that the Father will send the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to teach them everything and remind them of all that Jesus has said to them. Jesus is telling his disciples that they will know God through the gathered community, not through any particular place or building. Together, the Father and Jesus will make their home in the midst of the gathered community and together the community will know and worship God where ever they might be gathered.

Each of these readings involves some kind of loss of place. Paul and his companions had left families, friends, faith communities, jobs, and no telling what else to take the gospel to the known world. In the reading from Revelation, the loss of Jerusalem and the temple were still fresh on the original readers’ minds. In the gospel, the disciples were about to lose Jesus, at least in the way that they had come to know him, and the first audience of this gospel had lost their primary place of worship when the temple was destroyed. Nothing in the scriptures denies the reality or the pain of loss, whether of a person or a place. As a child, having a place where I belonged, that was always there, that never changed, and where I had roots was important to me. I think that is a common longing of both children and adults. What our readings this morning teach us, however, is that when those places that anchor us are gone, and when life is handing out changes more rapidly than we can swallow them, Jesus has made a home in the midst of those who love him. There we will find the belonging and stability that will help us belong anywhere and know permanence in the midst of change. Where Jesus has made a home among us, we ourselves are home.

Amen.

Goodness and Mercy

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

May 12, 2019

4 Easter C

            I have some sympathy with those in the gospel reading this morning who say “"How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly."  In a week when we have seen yet another school shooting, which followed a week with a school shooting, in a world where a week without an act of violence against a school or a faith community seems rare, in our own congregation where we experienced great loss due to illness in the first months of the year, I can find myself saying to Jesus “If you are the Messiah, tell or show us plainly.”  The fourth Sunday of Easter is always Good Shepherd Sunday, when we hear a portion of John’s gospel in which Jesus’ followers are referred to as Jesus’ sheep, and Jesus is either directly or implicitly referred to as the Good Shepherd.  We hear the familiar and comforting words of Psalm 23 “The Lord is my shepherd.  I shall not want.”  How do we reconcile the Jesus the Good Shepherd and the promise of the 23^rd Psalm that goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives with such violence and deep sadness?  If you are the Messiah, Jesus, tell us plainly.

          In the reading from Acts, Tabitha, a beloved member of the Christian community, has died.  She was devoted to good works and charity.  Peter prays, then says to Tabitha’s dead body “Get up.”  And Tabitha does.  Peter has raised Tabitha from the dead.  Why Tabitha and not our loved ones?  Why Tabitha and not those who have died in schools, houses of worship, or countless other places as a result of gun violence? 

          I have come to believe that I ask the wrong question of the reading from Acts.  Tabitha was raised from the dead not because she was a better person than anyone else, or because she was more beloved, or did more acts of charity and kindness.  The main character in the story is not Tabitha, as dramatic as her story might be.  The main character is not even Peter, despite his powers of miraculous healing.  The main character is God.  Peter prays and connects himself with God, then says “Tabitha, get up.”  Peter does not do anything else.  He doesn’t touch her, or say any magic words, or take any action other than to pray.  God raises Tabitha from the dead through Peter.

          Jesus’ response in the gospel reading to those who question him is to point to the works Jesus has done. Jesus has healed the blind, fed the 5000, healed a lame man, and turned water into wine. To those who oppose him, Jesus wonders aloud how much more they need to see if those actions are not convincing.  This passage reflects the tensions between the Jews and the Christians in the late first century or early second century.  There is no reason for us to reflect those tensions, however, and Jesus is probably just as impatient with me as he was with those in the gospel lesson.  To me, and to others with the same question these days, Jesus says "I have run toward tragedy, not away from it. I have put my own life at risk to help others and lost my life. I have comforted scared children and given teachers courage.  I have held those who weep and given courage to survivors to go on.  What more do you need to see?" Just a few verses before our gospel lesson this morning, still in the Good Shepherd section of John’s gospel, Jesus also says, quite clearly, "I have other sheep who do not belong to this fold." Not all the sheep look, act, or believe just like us. But some way, some how, all human beings can demonstrate the compassion and care of Jesus whether they belong to this fold or another, and in that goodness and mercy, the Good Shepherd is hard at work.

          For the sheep who hear Jesus’ voice and have chosen to follow Jesus, Jesus always refers to sheep in the plural. Jesus says "I know them...I give them eternal life...no one will snatch them out of my hand." Sheep are meant to be in community, in relationship, with each other. No one sheep is meant to navigate life alone. We navigate life together, and by doing so, we know the power of something more than ourselves in our midst. We know the Good Shepherd.  In the very existence of that community and through that support, the Good Shepherd is known, the Good Shepherd’s voice is heard, and goodness and mercy are felt.

In the well known words of 23rd psalm, we hear the Psalmist say "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For you are with me." Knowing Jesus as the Good Shepherd is not a guarantee that no harm will come to us or those we love. Knowing Jesus as the Good Shepherd means that, even in the valley of the shadow of death, we are not alone.   The question to ask is not “Why doesn’t God raise my loved one from the dead, or prevent senseless and deadly gun violence?”  The question to ask is how can we attach ourselves to Jesus the Good Shepherd the way that Peter attached himself to God, allowing Jesus to work through us to prevent senseless death, to bring comfort and hope to the grieving, and to make Jesus known through acts of goodness and mercy.   The question is not why the Good Shepherd has not done what we need and want him to.  The question is how we can be what the Good Shepherd needs and wants us to be and do so that the world will know deep and lasting goodness and mercy.

                                                                             Amen.

Ananias

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Episcopal Church

May 5, 2019

3 Easter C

As many of you know, I spent one week each summer for 15 years serving as the chaplain to 4^th and 5^th graders at Procter Camp, the Episcopal Church camp in the Diocese of Southern Ohio.  Every year I looked forward to spending a week with the children, hearing their stories and their questions, leading worship, doing a little teaching, hanging out with the great camp staff and rejoicing that they were in charge and I was not.

But the real reason I served for so many years is this.  We send our children to all kinds of camps in the summer-from sports camps, to music camps, to foreign language camps and everything in between. The point of these camps is to spend some intensive time learning the skills they need to be better soccer players or violinists or German language speakers or whatever.  When they come home, they come back to weekly or daily practices, rehearsals, and lessons.  Church camp serves exactly the same purpose.  With the guidance of the camp staff, kids spend a week practicing their ability to live as Christians in the world all day every day.  How do we deal with bullies, as Christians?  How do we share limited resources, as Christians?  How do we settle disagreements as Christians?  At the end of the week, the kids go home to continue to practice, just as they do soccer or tennis or their other activities and skills.

Our scripture readings this morning are all about dramatic experiences of the risen Christ.  Saul encounters the Risen Christ on the road to Damascus and will become the person who takes the gospel to all of the known world.  The writer of Revelation has a tremendous vision in which the elders sing a new song, and they sing together with all the angels in a choir thousands of voices strong.  And the disciples experience the risen Christ through a miraculous haul of fish and breakfast with Jesus on the beach.

Dramatic experiences of the Risen Christ do happen, but they do not happen to all of us.  So, for those of us who have not had such an experience, where do we fit in these stories?  As I puzzled over these stories this week, one thing became abundantly clear to me.  In each story, the main character is God.  The stories are about God’s work in the lives of Saul, the writer of Revelation, and Peter and the disciples.  If we have not had that sort of dramatic conversion experience, the reason is not because we are inferior Christians who don’t deserve that sort of experience, or superior Christians because we don’t need that kind of experience.  The reason is simply because God has chosen to work a different way in our lives.

There is another human character, however, in the story from Acts who deserves our attention.  Ananias was minding his own business when the Lord calls his name in a vision: “Ananias!”  To which Ananias replies “Here I am, Lord.”  “Here I am, Lord.”  Where have we heard that before?  Where would any first century Christian familiar with the Hebrew Bible have heard that before?  In the book of Genesis, God calls “Abraham” and when Abraham replies “Here I am” God sends Abraham off to offer his  son as a burnt offering in a horrifying story that tests Abraham’s faith but in the end does not actually require the life of Isaac.  In the book of Exodus, God calls out to Moses “Moses!” and Moses replies “Here I am.”  God tells Moses that he is being sent to deliver the Hebrew people from bondage in Egypt.  In I Samuel, God calls out to Samuel in the night “Samuel!” and Samuel replied “Here I am.”  God tells Samuel of God’s plan to punish the house of Eli for their iniquity because Eli’s sons were blaspheming God.  And finally, in the call of Isaiah, the prophet does not hear his name called, but when God asks “Whom shall I send and who shall go for us” and Isaiah replies “Here I am.”  God sends Isaiah to proclaim God’s judgement on the people. 

So when those early Christians, familiar with the Hebrew scriptures, heard Ananias say “Here I am,” they probably feared the worst.  God was not calling Ananias to tell him he won the lottery.  Whenever God called someone’s name and they responded “Here I am” that person was going to be asked to do something very difficult.  And indeed, God asks something difficult of Ananias.  God tells Ananias to go and lay hands on Saul of Tarsus so that he might regain his sight.  Ananias knew all about Saul, and from Ananias’ perspective, a Saul without sight who was neither eating nor drinking was to be preferred.  But God is insistent.  So, through the ministry of Ananias, Saul’s sight is restored, and much to Ananias’ great surprise, Saul is baptized, and he begins to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues saying “This is the Son of God.”

Without the ministry of Ananias, Saul’s threats and murder against the disciples might have been stopped, but his conversion would not have happened.  Saul needed someone, some person, to be the hands and voice that made the experience of risen Christ life changing and real.  God chose, once again, to work through an ordinary person, just like God worked through Abraham, Moses, Samuel, and Isaiah to make the word of God known to a broken world.

I believe that is where we fit into the story.  God may or may not have chosen to work in our lives through a dramatic conversion.  But God does choose to work through ordinary people like Ananias and you and me to be the hands and voices that make the presence of the Risen Christ known in the world.  We are called to be the ones who notice the light, who see the stranger feeding the hungry, who recognize the longing and the experience of something beyond ourselves and name the Risen Christ in our midst for those around us. I believe that church camp in the summer helps our children and youth develop and practice the skills to do just that, and when they return, the job of each one of us is to provide them with an environment in which they see such actions modeled and have a place to practice themselves.  This is why Anna Sutterisch, the diocesan intern for formation, will talk with all of us about Bellwether Camp at the end of the service and not just the children, youth, and their parents.  Anna will talk with all of us because we are all called to be a community of faith that where Christian formation is nurtured so that each of us is able to hear God call our name, respond “Here I am, Lord,” and be the voice and hands of Jesus in the world.

Amen.