A Thin Place

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

February 23, 2020

Last Epiphany A

In the Celtic tradition a "thin place" is a place where earth and heaven draw close.  I encountered such a thin place years ago when I spent a day on Holy Island in England, also known as Lindisfarne, where an ancient monastery was located and where the ruins still stand.  Part of the outside wall of the monastery is still intact, and there are markers to show where the monks prayed, worked, ate, and slept on the inside.  The construction of the monastery in the 13th or 14th century was an epic engineering feat as even the ruins show the skeleton of a magnificent stone edifice.  The part of the English reformation that we would prefer to forget is the part where the monasteries were ransacked, often for the lead in the roofs to be used for weapons, and the stone walls left to be re-purposed by whoever could haul away the rocks.  As I walked through the areas where the monks lived and prayed hundreds of years ago, in a space that was now destroyed, I realized that there was still a sense of deep peace there.  The ground that had soaked up the prayers of the faithful all those years ago still held those prayers.  The reformers could destroy the building, but they could not take the prayers of the faithful from the soil.  Between the howling of the wind and the ruins of what was once a great house of faith, I was reminded both of the words of Ash Wednesday "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return" and the powerful presence of God in the midst of the dust. 

A thin place is a place where the glory of God comes so close we can almost touch it, right here on earth.  Peter, James, and John had such an experience in this mornings’ gospel lesson, as did Moses in the reading from Exodus.  Their experiences, however, went far beyond any thin place I have ever known.  Moses went up the mountain, which was covered by a cloud, and God appeared to Moses like a devouring fire.  Jesus led Peter, James, and John up a high mountain where Jesus was transfigured.  His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.  Then Moses and Elijah, the recipient of the law and the foremost of the prophets, appear with Jesus.  Clearly heaven and earth have met!

Peter takes a lot of grief for wanting to build three dwellings on the mountain-one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.  Some say that Peter wants to hold onto the moment forever and live in this thin place eternally.  We all know that’s not possible.  Some say that Peter is just speaking without thinking, yet again.  Just one chapter ago, when Jesus predicted his suffering, death and resurrection, Peter rebuked Jesus for even thinking such a thing, to which Jesus replied “Get behind me, Satan!”  So, Peter’s track record of thinking before he speaks is not good.  Still others say that Peter is so overcome by the experience, he has no idea what to do but feels the need to do something.  We’ve all probably been there before.

However, I think something else may be going on in Peter’s offer to build three dwellings.  First, Peter was a fisherman, not a carpenter, so he is likely offering to do something rather beyond his skill set.  But secondly, and far more importantly, Peter offers to build dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah only.  Peter is not looking to stay on the mountain with them.  Perhaps, recognizing that he is in the presence of the ancestors, Peter is simply offering hospitality to those who appear before him.  Perhaps, in this thin place, Peter is moved beyond his ability to make a home for the three men to shelter them from the wilderness of the mountain.  Jesus does not rebuke Peter for his offer or decline his hospitality.  Before anyone can do or say anything, a bright cloud overshadows them and they hear the voice of God say “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased.  Listen to him.”  This is the same voice, saying the same thing, that was heard at Jesus’ baptism.  And what does Jesus say to the terrified disciples?  “Get up and do not be afraid.”

Today is one of my favorite Sundays of the church year.  We sing great hymns and we bury the Alleluias, which is both joyful and poignant.  We allow ourselves a mini-mountain top experience before we enter the wilderness of Lent.  And every year we hear the story of Jesus’ transfiguration on this Sunday-the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday.  Part of the reason we hear this story before we enter the Lenten wilderness is to be reminded of the glory of God that will triumph over Jesus’ suffering and death. This morning, Jesus orders the disciples to say nothing about what they have seen until he has been raised from the dead.  The three disciples likely had no clue what that meant.  But we do and we hold on to the promise of Easter as we enter into Lent. 

However much we await God’s glory to be revealed on Easter, stories of thin places in scripture remind us that the glory of God is also revealed in the wilderness.  This morning, Jesus took the three disciples up a high mountain, which is itself a wilderness.  Moses went up on the mountain, in the middle of the wilderness, where he encountered the glory of God.  The glory of God will be revealed on the cross, even as Jesus says “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.”  The wilderness can also be a thin place where the glory of God is revealed. 

Perhaps Lent is such a wilderness, where we are sent for a season to experience the glory of God without all of the alleluias, metaphorical and literal.  Perhaps Lent is the wilderness into which we are sent outside our comfort zones and to offer hospitality to Jesus just as Peter wanted to on the mountain.  We offer Jesus the hospitality of our hearts as well as the hospitality of our lives as we seek to offer shelter to Jesus in the various wildernesses of the world-places where there is no peace, where people are in need of  basic human provisions like food, shelter, and medical care, places where people grieve or are separated from one another by distance, anger, distrust, or seeming difference.  How might we, like Peter, go beyond our comfortable skill set to offer Jesus hospitality?  In what ruins might we find Jesus this Lent?  For in the dust of those ruins, the glory of God is revealed.

                                                                   Amen

How to Choose Life

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

February 16, 2020

6 Epiphany A

          As a somewhat linear person, I have to say that I do love a good set of instructions.  Give me an address that I can plug into my GPS and I will follow the directions I am given until I get where I am going.  Unfortunately, GPS is not fool proof, and I have found myself going the wrong direction more than once because I was paying attention to the directions and not paying attention to where I was going.  Likewise, give me a box from Ikea, a few hours and a good set of instructions, and I can make that dresser, or table, or whatever it is and pretend that I am a carpenter when in actuality I have no idea what I am doing other than following the directions step by step.

          So, as someone who likes a good set of instructions, when I hear this morning that by obeying the commandments I can choose life, I am on it.  Moses says “If you obey the commandments that I am commanding you today, by loving the Lord your God, walking in his ways, and observing his commandments, decrees, and ordinances, then you shall live.”   Commandments are like instructions, right?  So tell me what they are and I will follow them.

          Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5 give us the 10 commandments.   Moses is not interested in listing those today, but instead is telling God’s people how they are to live them.  Great! Instructions about the instructions!  In this passage, Moses tells the people that they are to obey the commandments by loving God, walking in God’s ways, and observing God’s commandments, decrees, and ordinances.  Deuteronomy 6 tells the people, and us, that they are to love the Lord their God with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength.  So, loving God involves the whole self-our thoughts, prayers, and actions.  Walking in God’s ways makes obedience active and requires attentiveness to what God is calling us to do in response to God’s great love for us.  Walking in God’s ways is not the same as passively following the GPS.  And lastly, the people are to keep all of God’s commandments, ordinances, and decrees, not as a form of bondage to the law, but as a way of being faithful to the God who brought them out of Egypt, through the wilderness, and to the cusp of the Promised Land, and showing the world their identity as God’s people by the way they order their lives.  All of a sudden the instructions for choosing life seem a lot more complicated!

          If we are looking to Jesus this morning to simplify the instructions for choosing life, we will be sorely disappointed.  This passage reminds us of what we heard last week-that Jesus has come not to abolish the law and the prophets but to fulfill them.  This week, Jesus takes the 10 commandments and far from abolishing them, he intensifies them and takes them deeper.  Simply refraining from murder is not good enough.  Anger and insult are choices for death, not life.  Reconciliation is the choice that brings life.  Avoiding the act of adultery or divorce becomes a command to a new attitude that avoids treating people as objects. 

          On the one hand, Jesus seems to be raising the stakes impossibly high and makes following the instructions ridiculously complicated.  The 10 Commandments seem simple relative to the instructions Moses and Jesus are giving this morning.  Where Moses this morning focuses on deepening those of the 10 commandments that have to do with our relationship with God, Jesus focuses on commandments that have to do with our relationship with each other and the whole of humankind.  He doesn’t even get to honoring your father and mother, nor coveting or stealing.  But we can imagine that we would not be let off easily there, either. 

          When Jesus deepens and intensifies the commandments of God, what Jesus is doing is giving us instructions for being a community rooted in  love.  When we put the passage from Deuteronomy together with Jesus’ words this morning, we hear that, in order to choose life, we give our lives over to love of God and love of humankind.  In this community rooted in love, all of our thoughts, actions, and prayers reflect our identity as people of God and we walk with God.  In this community, everyone is valued and no one is an object that can be cast aside or treated as less valuable.  Women, children, people of color, gay people and transgendered people, immigrants and refugees, Native Americans, people of other faiths or different political persuasions, the list goes on and on of people who throughout history have been objectified and treated as something other than beloved children of God.   In our present day, we can all to easily fall into considering those who think differently that we do, or look different, or come from a different place, or orient differently to be somehow less worthy of consideration as a beloved child of God.  Jesus tells us that when we treat anyone as someone other than a beloved child of God, we are choosing death.  When we live as a community grounded in God’s love for every human being, and we walk in that love, we choose life.  The instructions may not be easy, but they are very simple.  Choose life.

                                                          Amen.

Cyril and Methodius

Charlotte Collins Reed

Bexley Seabury Seminary

February 14, 2019

Cyril and Methodius

Some years ago, my husband and I took our almost grown sons on a mini weekend vacation to Cincinnati.  The first day we went to the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center, an impressive and deeply disturbing series of exhibits and slavery and the Underground Railroad, then we checked out a local brewery.  The second day we went to the Creation Museum just over the river in Kentucky.  The Creation Museum is remarkably well done, but theologically in a different place than I am which made it a bit hard to pony up the $25 per person to get in.  The opening line on the website says “The Creation Museum shows why God´s infallible Word, rather than man´s faulty assumptions, is the place to begin if we want to make sense of our world.”  But while I may disagree with some of their fundamental assumptions, the exhibits do a remarkable job of engaging the stories of Scripture and bringing them to life, making those stories accessible to people who may not have heard them before.

          When we first entered the museum, we were greeted by a man holding a very large snake.  We were invited to touch the snake and marvel at its size and presence.  I wondered whether this was a Genesis Chapter 3 snake or a Mark Chapter 16 snake, neither of which I found to be comforting options.  Was this snake a sign of our fallenness as human beings, or a sign of this man’s great faith that he could hold such a creature and not be harmed?  Neither thought made my heart leap with joy.

          Today we celebrate the lives of Cyril and Methodius, two faithful 9th century Christians who took the gospel to the southern Slavs.  Many people through out history have taken the gospel to those who have not heard the Good News.  I believe one of the marks of Bexley Seabury is that we are forming disciples who can take the gospel into places where the Good News may not have been heard before, or at least not heard in a way that preached love rather than hate, mercy rather than judgement, inclusion rather than exclusion.  But Cyril and Methodius did not just take the gospel to the Slavs, or just translate the gospel from their language into the language of those they went to.  Cyril actually had to invent a whole new alphabet in order to translate the people’s spoken language into written text.  And I thought Greek was hard and Hebrew was impossible!  For their efforts, Cyril and Methodius were opposed by the German bishops, thrown in prison, and forbidden to do anything other than preach in the new Slavonic language, which was considered a barbaric language by the German bishops.  Cyril died not long after Pope Adrian ordained them and approved the Slavonic liturgy.  But Methodius went on to translate the liturgy and the scriptures into Slavonic so the people could worship and hear the scriptures read in their own language.  When he died, Methodius’s funeral was in Greek, Latin, and Slavonic and it was said that he was all things to all people.  I can hear Cyril and Methodius in the wonderful reading from Philippians, proclaiming the gospel out of goodwill, love, and joy, despite their imprisonment and other hardships.  Theirs was a labor of love, rejoicing in the Slavonic people’s growth and joy in the faith.

          But what on earth could our gospel lesson possibly have to do with Cyril and Methodius, much less the Bexley Seabury board?  This passage is not thought to be original to Mark’s gospel, but takes bit of Matthew-the great commission, and Luke-the ascension-to fill out what some might think to be a disappointing and unsatisfying original ending.  Personally, I think that running off in terror is a perfectly appropriate response to seeing someone alive who was executed before your own eyes, but that’s just me.  Throw in some snake handling, poison cocktails, and the casting out of demons and what could go wrong?

          However, what connects the work of Cyril and Methodius, the gospel reading, and our work as the Bexley Seabury board are the six little words “they will speak in new tongues.”  Our thoughts go to the story of Pentecost in the book of Acts where the disciples spoke in new tongues so that everyone could hear the gospel in his or her native language.   The work of Cyril and Methodius was to allow the Slavs to hear the gospel in their own language.  To do that, they had to invent a new alphabet.  Our work is to form disciples to spread the gospel in new ways, new tongues if you will, to engage people in languages and ways they will understand.  What metaphorical alphabet is needed to translate words like sin and redemption, grace and resurrection for folks with absolutely no knowledge of those words?  What language is needed to break through the hate and vitriol of our current climate with the message of God’s radical love and inclusion?  What deep roots are needed for those who dare to confront the demons of this time, to, I dare say, handle the snakes that draw us from the love of God without being bitten?  Those are the kinds of questions Cyril and Methodius had to wrestle with and those are the questions we wrestle with at Bexley Seabury.   Those are hard questions and the answers make for difficult work.  But the answers will help make the gospel of love and inclusion accessible to all people. 

                                                                   Amen.

         

Salted Chocolate

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

February 9, 2020

5 Epiphany A

          I firmly believe that chocolate is a sign of God’s great love for us.  Growing up in a southern family, food and great meals in general meant love, but chocolate goes beyond that to divine love.  I am pretty much a purist, never mixing chocolate and fruit although chocolate and nuts may be allowed depending on the chocolate and the nut.  At a family dinner party two nights before our eldest son’s wedding some years ago, we had a flourless chocolate cake for dessert, with a chocolate ganache frosting, and, the description said, a sprinkling of sea salt.  Hmmm.  I do like my salt, and I love my chocolate, but salting my chocolate cake had not occurred to me.  What I found, however, is that the little bit of salt kicked the chocolate up a notch or two, deepening the flavor and adding a richness to the cake I did not anticipate.  The salt was there, not to be salty, but to enhance the flavor that was already present.

          I am reminded of this cake when I hear Jesus say “You are the salt of the earth.  But if salt has lost its saltiness, how can it be restored?”  Jesus then goes on to tell the disciples that they are the light of the world.  Light exists to illuminate something else, whether the city or the house.  Then Jesus says “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”  In both the case of salt and of light, their purpose is to enhance something else.  Salt enhances the flavor of food and light enhances whatever it shines on by making it visible.  The point of salt is not to draw attention to itself, but to enhance another flavor.  The point of light is not to draw attention to itself but to illuminate something else. In telling us to be salt and light, Jesus is telling us that our work as his followers is to enhance, give flavor, give depth and richness, to the work God is already doing in the world.  Then the world will see what the followers of God do and know something of God and be able to give God glory. 

          Then Jesus says that he has come not to abolish the law and the prophets but to fulfill them.  In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is portrayed as the new Moses, the one whose parents had to flee to Egypt to hide him from Herod when he was an infant, and the one who went up on the mountain to teach.  Today, as part of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus encourages the doing and the teaching of the commandments that Moses received on Mt. Sinai.  I wonder if we have more salt and light going on here.  First, perhaps Jesus is the salt that comes to give new flavor and richness to the law and the prophets, not to abolish or overpower them.  But also, perhaps the law and the prophets are themselves salt and light-a gift from God that illuminates the values of God and the identity of God’s people. 

There is another side to both salt and light, however.  Anyone who has ever gotten salt in a wound knows the burn of salt, and we all know that light illuminates both things that we want to see as well as things we would rather not see.  In the reading from Isaiah, we hear these words “Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God.”  Isaiah is being both salt and light here, using burning language to shine light on the ways the people fail to please God with their fasts.  Likewise, Jesus’ work was to fulfill the prophets and do the same, being salt and light to show us where we fail as God’s people. 

          How, exactly, are we to be salt and light in the world?  This morning we will baptize William Bear Abramson and with William, we will reaffirm our baptismal covenant.  We will promise to be faithful in worship, in the breaking of bread and the prayers.  We are promising to do even more than show up.  We are promising to be faithful.  We will promise to resist evil, which draws us from the love of God, and to proclaim the Good News with our words and our lives.  We will promise to seek and serve Christ in all people, to work for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being.  We are not just promising to do these things as individuals.  We are promising to be a community for William, for all of our children, for each other, and for the world that lives in these ways to reflect the values of God and our identity as followers of Jesus.    If we look again at the reading from Isaiah, the description of the fast that God chooses sounds a lot like the baptismal covenant.  “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?”   Scripture teaches that the way God’s people live says something about their identity as God’s people and reflects the love and values of God to the world.

          In the midst of a time of great animosity and strife, when our country is polarized and language has become vitriolic, when uncertainty and fear seem to abound, Jesus calls us to be the salt and light that shows the depth and richness of God’s love for us.  That salt is to respect the dignity of every human being, even and especially in the midst of disagreement, to proclaim the Good News with word and action even and especially in the midst of disappointment, discouragement, and fear, to hold tightly to our identity as people of God through worship, prayer and study even and especially when the world pulls us away, and to resist all that calls us away from God’s love.  When we live as salt and light, those around us can taste the depth and richness of the Kingdom of Heaven here on earth. 

                                                                                      Amen.

Al Donley

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

January 25, 2020

Al Donley

          When I last visited Al, he was in hospice with a room overlooking Lake Erie.  Al was tired and while we talked a little bit, mostly we kept silence.  After a bit, Al looked at me and said “Let’s sing something.”  “What would you like to sing, Al?”  “How about ‘O Come, all ye faithful,” was his reply.  So, on January 14, a bit out of season, looking out over Lake Erie, we sang “O come, all ye faithful.”  Al’s voice was a bit wobbly on the verse, but when we came to the refrain, his deep Al Donley voice rang strong and clear with the words “O come, let us adore Him.”  When Ted and Colleen arrived, Al wanted to sing some more.  That time there was a little debate about whether to sing “Amazing Grace” or “O come all ye faithful.”  The latter won out once again, and the four of us sang together.  And again, when we got to the refrain, Al’s voice gained strength and the words came out as strong and true as if Al was singing in the choir.

          “O come let us adore him.”  Perhaps that was just Al’s favorite hymn.  But as I thought about Al, I thought that perhaps, lying in the bed in hospice, looking out over the lake and peering into eternity, Al decided that there was really nothing left but to give God adoration and praise.  Of course, all Al really wanted was to do that in the comfort of his own home surrounded by his family and his beloved Carol, which happened the next day.

          The life we celebrate this day is one that found abundant and tangible ways to adore God.  Al adored God through all kinds of service from outreach ministries here at Christ Church and his work on Christian formation in the wider church, to his vast and creative work to help students get a college education, to his 19 years on the Hiram village council, to his steady and wise presence in difficult times.  Al adored God through his devotion to his family, especially his deep love and great respect for Carol.  And, I believe Al’s well known sense of humor reflected something of the sense of humor God must have as God looks at God’s creation.  In the gospel, we hear Jesus say “I am the Good Shepherd” then we hear Jesus describe the lengths the Good Shepherd will go to in order to serve and care for his sheep.  We experienced some of that Good Shepherd in Al and the many, many ways Al used his life to serve others.  And in that service, God has been adored over and over again.  O come, let us adore him.

          There is so much to celebrate today and there are so very many stories to share.  However, we are also here to grieve this loss.  Al was a husband, father, grandfather, brother, friend, and mentor to many who were touched by his life.  Grief is hard.  Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, his friend.  We pray for Al, but also for each other this day, that we can both comfort each other and look to God for comfort.  Paul writes in the passage from Romans that we just heard “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Nothing, not this death nor any other death, can separate us from the love of God.  We can hold onto that as we walk the weeks and months ahead and know that Al would still sing “O come, let us adore him.”

          Lastly, we gather this day to commit Al’s life to God.  At Al’s baptism decades ago, both his earthly life and his eternal life were committed to God, and Al spent just a few days short of 83 years living out that commitment.  In his death, Al was joined with God in new life, eternal life.  Both Al’s earthly life, and Al’s eternal life bear out the words from the book of Wisdom “Those who trust in him will understand truth, and the faithful will abide with him in love, because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones, and he watches over his elect.”  Al has been raised by God to that place where he can abide with God in love forever.   For that, in the midst of our grief, we give God thanks and praise.  “O come, let us adore him.”

                                     

                                                                                      Amen.

A Parable

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

January 19, 2020

2 Epiphany A/Annual Meeting

          Today is our Annual Meeting at Christ Church, the day we review the past year and look to the future and all that 2020 will hold for us.  Today we will also baptize Abigail Bailey, bringing her into the household of God.  This weekend, the country celebrates the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his quest for real and lasting equality for all people.  Each of those events deserves a sermon of its own, and yet, the one sermon per Sunday rule still applies.

          However, as I think about the confluence of these three events, it occurs to me that this confluence is a parable of sorts for our past year together.  In 2019, we opened our doors and offered hospitality to the community over and over again in times of joy, sorrow, fear, and a desire to simply be good neighbors.  In the same year, we ran a very successful “Building for Community” capital campaign thanks to the efforts of a large number of people who gave of their time, their energy, and their resources to help make Christ Church a more accessible, more welcoming place for the many people who gather here.  And in the same year, we started a new young choristers program, hosted the new Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, participated in First Serve without getting rained out this time and had a combined worship service with First Presbyterian.  All of this while continuing the many ongoing outreach, education, and worship ministries of Christ Church.  If we can do all that in one year, juggling three events in one sermon should be no problem!

          This morning, we hear the account in John’s gospel of the calling of Jesus’ first two disciples.  Two of John the Baptist’s disciples hear the prophet say “Look, here is the Lamb of God” and follow Jesus.  When Jesus realizes he is being followed, he turns and says to the two “Who are you looking for?”  The two ask where Jesus is staying, and Jesus replies “Come and see.”  The two wind up spending the day with Jesus.  We have no idea what transpired that day, or what Jesus said, did, or taught.  But one of the men was Andrew, and Andrew was so moved by Jesus that he went and found his brother, Simon, and told him that they had found the Messiah.  Andrew took Simon to Jesus, who renamed him Cephas, or Peter, and the rest is history.

          This story, I believe, is what holds our Christ Church parable together this morning.  One person, Andrew, a relatively unknown follower of John the Baptist introduces Simon Peter to Jesus, a small and simple act that makes a huge difference in the course of Christianity.  In baptism, each individual is called by name and made part of the household of God.  Together, each of us as an individual renews our baptismal covenant because we know that each of us as individuals matter.  When each of us as individuals commits to working for justice and peace and respecting the dignity of every human being together, and we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, the body of Christ can make a powerful gospel difference in the world.  We will bring Abigail into the body of Christ where she will make a difference, both an individual and as part of something much larger than herself.   

          Likewise, in all of the things we have accomplished in the past year, the hard, the easy, the sad, and the joyful, we have been able to do that because each person has done their one person’s worth and we have done that work together.  Like Andrew, each of us has done what we could and when we each do that, together we do pretty amazing things.  Just as a small example, last Friday-day before yesterday- when an email went out asking for help with the reception after Al Donley’s funeral next Saturday, the replies came pouring in with offers of food and help as we work to provide the best hospitality and comfort to those who gather.  That, in itself, is a parable of our life together.  When we each do our one person’s worth, whether a Capital Campaign, funeral reception, Vacation Bible School, or any other project, ministry, or challenge, together with the Holy Spirit, we will be able to do whatever God is calling us to do. 

          Of course, Dr. King is another model of the difference one person can make.  Dr. King was committed to non-violent resistance as he worked to eradicate racism and poverty, and to uphold and protect the freedom, equality, and dignity of every human person.  Whether from jail or from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., Dr. King's message was the same: all people are created equal and are equally God's children regardless of skin color or economic status, and that whatever affects one person affects everyone, even if indirectly.  Dr. King's work made a difference, in part because he inspired countless people, individuals who perhaps wondered what one person could do, to join in sit-ins, marches, peaceful demonstrations, and boycotts to help deliver the message that ALL people are created equal.  If each person who heard Dr. King thought "I am just one person.  My actions won't make a difference," there would have been no one at the sit-ins or marchs and, indeed, those actions would have had no power.  But together, thousands and thousands of individuals, inspired by one person, made a powerful difference.

          Andrew’s small act in introducing his brother to Jesus made an enormous difference in Christian history.  Did Andrew know at the time the difference he was making?  I doubt it.  But I do know this: every time we each take the gifts God has given us and we work together, resisting any temptation to think “I am just one person and my actions won’t make a difference,” Christ Church, like Andrew and Dr. King, will make a powerful gospel difference in the world around us.  Again and again and again.

                                                                   Amen

Wind and Water

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

January 12, 2020

1 Epiphany A

Lake Maumelle is a decent sized lake-about 9000 acres-in central Arkansas.  The lake was built in the 1950’s to serve as a water supply.  Lake Maumelle is also where I learned to sail a number of decades ago.  Dad bought a little sunfish sailboat when I was about 14 years old and we started from scratch learning how to get from one end of the lake to another, how to work with the wind, how to paddle when there was no wind, and just how far we could let the wind tip the boat over before we landed in the water.  Once we mastered the Sunfish he bought a slightly larger boat, still with just one sail, then eventually we moved on to a larger boat with two sails.  That boat would not capsize, but we delighted in seeing just how far we could let the boat tip on its side before Mom objected.

          On Lake Maumelle, I learned the power of both water and wind.  Working with the wind, we could move through the water to get where we wanted to go.  The water could be so choppy that getting anywhere was a lot of work, and sometimes we ended up in a place we had not intended to go.  And sometimes the water and wind could work together to move us swiftly through the lake.  The wind could also bring us to a complete and utter standstill, or, if we were not careful, the wind could toss us into the water before we had any idea what had hit us. 

          This morning, the story of Jesus’ baptism brings us both water and wind.  The water, of course, is the water of the Jordan River where Jesus goes to be baptized by John.  After first objecting, John baptizes Jesus and the wind appears as the Spirit of God, the breath of God, descends like a dove and lights on Jesus.  Then we hear the voice of God say “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

          Baptism does not get any better than having the Spirit of God light upon you and the voice of God claim you as God’s own.  In my imagination, the waters of the Jordan are crystal clear, the sun is shining, there is a light breeze, and all is right with the world at that moment.  If we didn’t know before, now we know who Jesus is-the beloved Son of God.  When we are baptized, we are also claimed as God’s beloved children.  The Spirit may not descend like a dove, but by the waters of baptism we are made Christ’s own, forever. 

          However, in the very next line of Matthew’s gospel, which we will hear on the First Sunday of Lent, we hear these words: “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”  Immediately after Jesus is baptized, after the Spirit of God rests on him and the Voice of God claims him, Jesus is led by that very Spirit into the wilderness.

          I have spent some time this week thinking about the relationship between baptism and the wilderness as we have seen the world stand on the brink of the wilderness of war.  There were times this week when I could barely stand to look at the news, and times when I could hardly tear myself away, and I have pondered just what Jesus’ baptism might have to do with the current geopolitical climate. 

          If Jesus had been baptized in the Jordan River, felt the Spirit descend on him and heard the voice of God claim him, and then gone on to lead a nice comfortable life, that would be one thing.  But that is not the way life worked out for Jesus.  Immediately after his baptism he was led in the wilderness where he was tempted by Satan, with nothing but God and the Spirit that led him there to rely on.  After that, he began a ministry that confronted demons, spoke hard truths, healed the sick, provoked the authorities, and led to an untimely death.  In the reading from Isaiah, one of the suffering servant passages understood by many to refer to Jesus, we heard God say “I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.”  The Spirit landed on Jesus, not to protect him from the world, but to send him into the world to engage the world and bring forth justice, with the Good but sometimes uncomfortable or even threatening News.

          The wind and water of baptism send us into the world as well, a world that can sometimes feel as lonely and desolate as the wilderness Jesus found himself in following his baptism.  Sometimes that wind and water are motionless and we feel like we have to find our own way.  Other times, the wind and water of baptism push so hard that we think we might tip over.  And other times, the wind and water of baptism seem to work with us to get us where we need and want to go.  But the wind and water of baptism remind us that we never go alone.  Later in the passage from Isaiah, God says “Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you.”  The God of the wind and water of baptism has taken us by the hand and will keep us, wherever that wind and water carry us.

Baptism called Jesus and baptism calls us to engage the world-the beauty, the pain, the sin, the relationships, the turmoil and conflict-all of it.  Baptism is beautiful, sacred, and powerful, claiming us as Christ’s own forever.   But, as Isaiah and Jesus remind us, we are claimed as Christ’s own not just for our own purposes and well being, but to make a difference for the good of the world God created. 

                                                                                      Amen.