Fear

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 1, 2018

Easter

          When I was a child, Easter meant two things-lots of chocolate and a scratchy white dress.  My sister and I would race downstairs on Easter morning, knowing that if we did not get to the Easter baskets before our little brother did, all the good chocolate would be gone.  Because my sister and I were the only granddaughters on both sides of the family, our grandmothers always made sure my sister and I had new white dresses for Easter, and the frillier the better in their eyes.  While we were not thrilled about the dresses, even at a young age we knew that the dresses were gifts of love and we adored our grandmothers.  Easter began and ended with chocolate, and we tolerated the dresses and soaked up the love in the middle.

          The problem with Easter in our eyes was that when Easter was over, the party was really over.  Unlike Christmas, where there were new toys to play with the next day and for weeks and even months to come, on Easter, once the chocolate was gone, which was always by bedtime if not before, there was nothing left but the dress, and we were plenty happy to put the dress away for a while.  Easter was wonderful, but the celebration was completely over the very next day.

          This morning, we hear an Easter story that almost seems to be over before the story begins.  Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome are on their way to the tomb with the sad duty of anointing Jesus’ body for burial.  They are heading to the tomb even though they know full well that Jesus’ body is behind a stone they cannot move.  So, why are they going?  They are neither the first nor the last grieving people to do something that makes no sense!

          When they arrive at the tomb, much to their surprise, the stone has been moved.  Either someone else has come to anoint the body ahead of them, or someone with malicious intent has rolled the stone away.  The women are clearly alarmed when they enter the tomb, where they find a young man dressed in a white robe who gives them this message: “Do not be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified.  He has been raised.  He is not here….But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him as he told you.” 

          Jesus is not here.  He has been raised.  We come to church on Easter expecting to see the empty tomb and hear those very words.  We celebrate with festive music, alleluias, and gorgeous flowers.  But the women were taken by complete surprise and have a most different reaction.  The women fled the tomb, for terror and amazement seized them, and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid.  And those are the final words in Mark’s gospel.

          The women have been criticized relentlessly in the commentaries over the years, having their faith and their discipleship called into question.  Despite the direction of the young man in the tomb to go tell the disciples and Peter, the women fled and said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.  What kind of faithful response is that to the good news that Jesus has been raised from the dead?

          In the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you that this is my absolute favorite Easter story.  If the women really understand that Jesus has been raised from the dead, that the bonds of death have been broken and the power of death has been overcome, then they understand that the world has been turned upside down. Now they live in a world where anything is possible and death no longer has the final word. If resurrection can happen, what else is possible? All of the rules are changed now. How do we live in a world like that? Terror and amazement seem to me a perfectly appropriate immediate response to this brand new reality. The women actually understand the far-reaching implications of resurrection.  We know that the women did not keep their silence forever, because we are here. The shock value of resurrection may be lost on us all these years later, but the women understood that nothing, nothing, will ever be the same. I think Mary, Mary and Salome are the ones who actually understand the impact of the Easter message.

How do we live in a world in which Jesus is risen from the dead? We have the gift of hindsight, which the women did not have. The women kept walking to the tomb even though they had no idea how they would move the stone from the entrance to the tomb.  Easter happens every time we keep walking toward challenges that seem impossible, knowing that there is no stone we must move by ourselves. The women were alarmed by the empty tomb. We are blessed with the knowledge that the tomb is empty, but Easter happens every time we join the women in beholding the magnitude of what God has done for us in raising Jesus from the dead. The women fled from the tomb in terror and amazement at the news that Jesus was now in Galilee.  Easter happens every time we go out to meet Jesus in the Galilee of our own lives, the very ordinary places where we live and work day in and day out.  Easter is not just a day with lots of chocolate and scratchy new dresses, or lots of chocolate, wonderful music, beautiful flowers, and the return of the Alleluias.  Easter is a way of life, in which we find Jesus, not sealed in a tomb, but meeting us where ever we go, what ever challenges we face, and promising that there is no stone we must roll away alone.   

                                                                                   Amen.                                                                                            

Journey

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 25, 2018

                                                                 Palm Sunday

When Slocomb and Caldwell, our two sons, were in high school, I took them to a political rally.  Several hours before the rally began, a long line had formed in front of the security entrance, where guards were stationed with security wands and all bags had to be checked.  Once we finally cleared security after about two hours in line, we had to find our assigned area in the crowd.  The challenge was to find a place to stand with no one holding a large sign in front of us.  This was an almost impossible task, especially since some of the signs were taller than I am.  The roar of the crowd was so loud that the only way the kids and I could communicate was by text message.  Once the speakers arrived, everyone pretty much quieted on cue, anxious to hear what the speakers had to say, and hear their promises about how tomorrow might be different.  Some people were there to hear the speeches; others were there to experience the excitement.  Still others probably came just to witness the sheer spectacle of the event or to sell their various political buttons and banners. 

This morning, we witness yet another political rally. This one, however, appears a little more spontaneous.  The only preparation was Jesus sending two disciples into the village to find a colt for Jesus to ride.  A very large crowd appears to form out of nowhere, clocks are spread on the ground, and branches are cut from the trees. As if on cue, the crowd erupts with shouts of Hosanna: “Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

One of the most curious things about this event is that Jesus allows it to happen at all.  In fact, the procession appears to be his idea.  He is the one who sends the disciples to fetch the colt in the first place.  This is the same Jesus who was tempted in the wilderness after his baptism.  In Mark’s gospel, we are not about the specific temptations, but in Matthew and Luke, Jesus is tempted with glory and authority over all the kingdoms of the world.  Jesus replies with the words from Deuteronomy “Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.”  In all the gospels, Jesus declined to draw attention to himself and pointed the attention to the Kingdom of God.  Just a few verses before our gospel story this morning, Jesus said “I have come not to be served, but to serve, and to give my life as a ransom for all.”  How odd that Jesus, who has resisted power and glory throughout the gospel, will now allow himself to be the center of so much attention, the object of the disciples’ praise, and to move toward Jerusalem in seeming triumph.  

“I have come not to be served, but to serve, and to give my life as a ransom for all.”  When the disciples and the crowds rally around Jesus on the road to Jerusalem with shouts of praise, the words that Jesus spoke just a few verses ago are the last thing on their minds.  They are moving with Jesus toward Jerusalem where they have every hope that Jesus will do what King David did and make Israel a great and mighty kingdom again.  They are filled with hope that a better future is at hand.  Why, then, will we soon hear the “Hosannas” replaced with “crucify him!”

The reason, perhaps, is that the people who treat Jesus like a king want Jesus to go on their journey with them, rather than going with Jesus on his journey.  And perhaps the reason Jesus allows this procession to happen is because joining a parade is the only way people will follow him on his journey.

Palm Sunday calls us to go with Jesus on his journey, to make his journey our own, rather than to try to take Jesus where we want to go, even when the places we want to go are good and noble places.  Palm Sunday calls us to walk with Jesus on the journey through the last supper, his arrest and trial, his crucifixion and burial in the tomb, not because this path is easy, powerful, or glorious, but because Jesus’ path is the only way to resurrection.  There are no short cuts.  Jesus wanted the disciples and the crowds to follow, and Jesus wants us to follow, so that we will know and understand the king who came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for all.

Amen.

Real

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 18, 2018

5 Lent B

A reading from “The Velveteen Rabbit” by Margery Williams:  

"What is real?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?" "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real." "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, who was always truthful. "When you are Real, you do not mind being hurt." "Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," the Rabbit asked, "or bit by bit?" "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because when you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

What is real? That is the question The Velveteen Rabbit asks the Skin Horse in this children's story. That question is also at the heart of our gospel lesson this morning.  What is real?

What is real? This morning, some Greeks approach Philip and they say "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Jesus’ response to the Greek’s request borders on being rude. When Philip and Andrew tell Jesus that the  Greeks wish to see him, instead of saying "yes," or "no," or "let’s meet for coffee tomorrow," Jesus says "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" and goes on about seeds dying and bearing fruit, and so forth.  That sounds like a “no” to me, but I find it rather hard to tell.  What kind of answer is that for those who simply wanted to see Jesus?

What is real? My guess is that the Greeks wanted to see Jesus because they had heard about the water Jesus changed into wine, the blind man Jesus had healed, the 5000 people Jesus fed with a few fish and loaves, and the man Lazarus Jesus had raised from the dead. They wanted to meet Jesus, to talk with him, and to try to understand this man who could do such miraculous things. Perhaps they may have even recognized that this man was from God, since no one could do such wonders apart from God. But those acts, incredible and wonderful as they are, are not what makes Jesus real.

What does make Jesus real? In response to the Greeks' request, Jesus offers three reflections on his death, and why the crucifixion and resurrection make Jesus real, rather than the miracles he has done. First, Jesus states a simple law of nature. In order for there to be more life, there must first be death. "Unless a single grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." In order for Jesus to be present in all times and in all places, to all people, he must die as one seed must die to produce much fruit. Secondly, real discipleship requires death to self-interest in order to have abundant life. "Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life." The reason this is true for Jesus’ followers is because it is true for the one they follow.  In order to have more life, both now and forever, we, like Jesus, are called to give our lives away. And lastly, Jesus’ mission is to draw all the world to himself, and it is in his death that this will happen. Jesus’ death will not prevent his mission from being accomplished. Quite the opposite; according to the gospel of John, Jesus’ death is necessary for his mission to be fulfilled.

Jesus death is real. It is not what the world considers real, however. It is not glossy or shiny or pretty and it most definitely will hurt. It is nothing like having things that buzz inside you or a stick out handle. But if Jesus is to bring all the world to himself, which is John's understanding of salvation, Jesus must be freed from this world through his death, resurrection and ascension.  The Greeks say “Sir, we want to see Jesus.”  The message of Johns' gospel is that through Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension, people in all times and places can say “We want to see Jesus” and Jesus will be available and present.

So, Jesus does give the Greeks a proper response, although perhaps not the response they were looking for.   We, like the Greeks, want to see Jesus.  We want to know what is real.  So, we will journey through these next two weeks, not leaping ahead to Easter, but walking with Jesus through his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, to his last supper with those whom he loves, his agony in the garden of Gethsemane, the betrayal by those closest to him, his trial and crucifixion, his death and his burial in the tomb. We walk with Jesus, not by simply tagging along, but by looking at our own lives, our pains, our disappointments and hurts, our failures and fears, the deaths we die daily and offering all of that to God for resurrection. We, with Jesus, offer the seeds of our lives to the ground, so that by God’s power those seeds can have new life and our lives can bear much fruit.  With Jesus, we use our lives to show others God’s glory so that they, too, will see Jesus. By connecting our own lives with the death and resurrection of Jesus, we will we experience the power of Easter as something real, and our lives will point to the resurrected Jesus.

Sir, we wish to see Jesus. The promise of the gospel is that through his crucifixion, death, and resurrection, we will see Jesus. And that, my friends, is real.

                                                                   Amen.

Snakes

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 11, 2018

4 Lent B

If our reading from Numbers this morning was the totality of Scripture, I would have to find something else to do with my life.  The problem is not so much the snakes, although they are a bit problematic.  A long time ago in a church not so far away and in this diocese, a parishioner brought his very large pet snake, draped around his shoulders, to church on the Feast of St. Francis for the animal blessing.  The parishioner did not much care for women priests and I did not much care for snakes.  So we were even.  But while a serpent may have gotten Eve to eat the forbidden fruit and be evicted from the Garden of Eden, I was going nowhere.  I blessed the snake with all the conviction I would have blessed a lovely plate of chocolate chip cookies and moved on down the line without so much as a grimace, at least on the outside. 

This morning my problem is less with snakes and more with God.  The Hebrew people have been wandering around in the wilderness for a while now.  The bit of grumbling we hear this morning is not the first time they have grumbled against God by a long shot.  Just about as quickly as God got the people out of Egypt, they were complaining about a lack of good water to drink.  God showed Moses a piece of wood that Moses could throw into the water to make the bitter water sweeter and more drinkable.  Not many verses later, the people are longing to go back to Egypt where at least they had decent food to eat.  So, God gave the people manna, or bread from heaven, to satisfy their hunger.  Then, thirst strikes again, and the people accused Moses of bringing them out into the wilderness to kill them with thirst.  This time, Moses struck a rock with his staff and water emerged from the rock for people to drink.

But this morning, God appears to have had enough.  We are told that the people spoke against God and against Moses and said "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?  For there is no food and no water and we detest this miserable manna."  The people have just told God that they detest the very life-giving bread God has provided.  My mother always told us not to bite the hand that feeds us.  Perhaps the Hebrew people should have thought of that.  Because now God loses patience.  God sends poisonous serpents among the people.  The serpents bite the people and they die.  As a result, the people recognize the error of their ways and repent.  They ask Moses to ask God to take away the serpents.  But rather than remove the creatures, God tells Moses to make a poisonous serpent and set it on a pole, so that those who look at the snake on a stick will live.  Where Moses got the bronze, the mold, and the fire to make the bronze serpent, I have no clue.  But Moses does as he was told and anyone with a snake bite could look at the serpent and live.

The story leaves me with many questions about God.  Why is God's patience suddenly exhausted by the complaining Hebrews?  Not only do the Hebrews complain in the wilderness, but the psalms are full of complaints hurled against God.  We just call them laments instead of complaints.  I certainly do my share of complaining to God.  My guess is that I am not alone.  So, I'd like to know exactly what put God over the edge this morning, so I don't go there.  Why does God take such drastic action against the people?  Why doesn't God simply take the serpents away rather than have Moses enshrine one and require that the people look at the serpent to be healed?  Is the purpose of the bronze serpent to remind the people of their wickedness?  Isn't that a lot like kicking people when they are down? That doesn’t seem like very godly behavior.

While I don't have good answers to any of these questions, the questions are floating around in my mind when I hear Jesus say to Nicodemus "Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that whoever believes in him may have eternal life."   Somehow, Jesus calls us to use the disturbing story about Moses and the serpents to understand the cross on which Jesus will soon be lifted up.  What connections does Jesus want us to make?

Here are some ideas.  First, in the story from Numbers, rather than take away the serpents, God turns the image of this agent of death into an agent of life.  By looking at the bronze serpent that has been lifted up, the people are healed, and they live.  Likewise, God will take the cross, an instrument of death, and when Jesus is lifted up, the cross will become an agent of life.  In John's gospel, the cross and resurrection are two pieces of one action, so in the cross, John also sees resurrection.  Secondly, perhaps instead of getting rid of the serpents, God has Moses lift a bronze likeness on a pole so the people can remember both their wickedness and God's mercy.  One of my least favorite lines in the Book of Common Prayer comes in the Ash Wednesday service when the priest offers absolution with the words "Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who desires not the death of sinners, but rather that they may turn from their wickedness and live."  Wickedness is a strong word, and one I would rather avoid myself.  But the word does point to the fundamental but painful truth that we are capable of deep separation from God and that separation is of our own doing, not God's.  The good news is that our salvation is completely dependent on God's mercy not our own goodness.

Lastly, in my imagination, once Moses lifts the bronze serpent up before the people and people begin to be healed when they look at the creature, people begin to tell their friends and neighbors and soon everyone is drawn to the bronze serpent, and they all begin to be healed. They are reminded of the cause of their affliction, for sure, but they are also united in the reminder that God's healing power is even more powerful than their own wickedness.  They are not only reminded, but shown, that God is the source of healing and life.  They are reminded that God can be trusted to take the serpents of death and create life.  When Jesus is lifted up, crucified then resurrected, for all the world to see, we are drawn together and to God as we engage both our rebelliousness and God's great power and love for us, as God takes the agent of death and creates life.

John 3:16 is perhaps the most often quoted verse in all of Scripture.  "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life."  John's words from there are quite polemical, which is unfortunate but reflects the reality of the tensions in late first century Judaism and Christianity.  The deeper message of John's gospel is that God acted out of love for the whole world, and with the desire to draw the whole world together and to God, as the agent of death was transformed into the agent of life.  John calls us not to look away from the cross on Good Friday, but to engage the cross.  Only on the cross will we be able to see Jesus lifted up and to wait, trusting, as all death is transformed into new life.

Amen.

Confusion

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 4, 2018

3 Lent B

          My most exasperating seminary experience was the course “Anglican Church History.”  In the first nano-second of the class, we figured out that our teacher, a graduate student from the University of Chicago, had never taught a class before.  But we were kind hearted souls and tried to be patient with convoluted lectures and confusing assignments.  The last straw came when we were given a take home open-book test.  I took the test home, found and wrote all the answers, turned the test in, and was quite puzzled to receive the test back and have one of my answers marked as incorrect.  How can you get an answer wrong on a take home open book test?  At the end of class, I went up to the teacher and inquired about my answer, which he insisted was wrong.  So, I politely got the textbook out, which was required for the course, and showed him where I got my answer.  His response was that the book was wrong.  My patience was running thin at this point.  I had done everything right, used the book he required, found the answer, and now I was wrong because the book was wrong.  I left the room before I said something I would regret and headed home furious that we had been required to purchase a book with wrong information, that the seminary would hire such a teacher, and that valuable time was being wasted in that class.

          I wonder if the people in the temple felt that same combination of confusion, frustration and fury when Jesus comes barging in with his whip of cords this morning.  The people in the temple were faithful people, trying hard to live according to God’s commandments.  Cattle, sheep, and doves were sold at the temple to help weary pilgrims procure the unblemished animals God required for the temple sacrifices.  Worshipers had walked for miles to get to Jerusalem for the Passover.  They couldn’t bring cattle, sheep and doves with them.  Unless they could buy the animals at the temple, they could not make the sacrifices they had traveled so far to make.  The money changers were required to convert the Roman currency into temple currency, just like we convert currency when we travel to another country.  There is always a fee, and in the case of the temple, there were sales taxes to be paid to the Romans.  Everyone at the temple was trying to be faithful to the laws given by God in the book of Leviticus and the laws of the state as dictated by the Romans.

          So, why is Jesus so upset this morning?  Which of the commandments are the people breaking?  Fortunately, we hear those commandments this morning in the reading from Exodus.   The people in the temple buying and selling animals for the sacrifice do not seem to be dishonoring their father or mother, murdering, committing adultery, stealing, bearing false witness, or coveting.  So, they are good on the last six commandments.  The problem must be in the first four commandments.  But the people don’t appear to have put another god before God, made an idol, made wrongful use of God’s name, or violated the Sabbath.  Quite frankly, they are doing all in their power to keep the law and honor God with the required sacrifices.  So what is Jesus so worked up about?

The story of the cleansing of the temple is found in all four gospels.  In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, however, the story occurs towards the end of the gospel.  The cleansing of the temple is the last straw that leads up to Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion as Jesus refers to the temple as a den of robbers.  But in John’s gospel, the story comes in chapter 2, so at the beginning of the gospel.  Jesus does not accuse anyone of being a robber.  He simply says “Stop making my Father’s house a market place.”  John also adds Jesus’ words “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up” and the note that Jesus was speaking about his body.  Those words are not found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, so I think Jesus is up to something else in John’s gospel.

          Jesus obviously does not want his Father’s house turned into a market place.  The temple was thought to be the place where humans encountered God in a unique way, the place where the divine and the human meet.  The claim was not that the temple was the only place the people encountered God.  The Hebrew people had experienced God in their Exodus from Egypt, during their time in the wilderness, in their exile in Babylon far from the promised land, and on and on.  But the experience of God in the temple was uniquely holy.  However, in John’s gospel, Jesus is the place where the human and the divine meet.  John’s gospel begins “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God….and the Word became flesh and lived among us.”  In that sense, Jesus is the new temple.  When Jesus is asked “What sign can you show us for doing this,” Jesus replies “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.”  The resurrection will allow people in all times and places to experience the fullness of God in Jesus.  This morning, Jesus brings all of the action in the temple to a dramatic halt, turning over tables and driving the people out of the temple in order to tell the people that he is the place where human and divine meet. 

          The people in the temple are no doubt confused, frustrated, and angry when Jesus shows up this morning and interrupts their activity.  But Jesus will do what is needed to get our attention.  Jesus wants us to know that he is the new temple, that he and God are one, and that when we encounter him, we encounter God.  Through the resurrection, Jesus is present in all times and in all places through his resurrected body.  As the Body of Christ, the Church, we are that resurrected body.  If Jesus were to show up here and get our attention by throwing furniture around, Jesus would do so to remind us that every action we take, day in and day out reflects God’s love to the world.  The sacrifice of cattle, sheep, and doves is not required.  As the Body of Christ, Jesus calls us to the sacrifice of self that makes possible the reflection of God’s love 

through our lives.

                                                                   Amen.

         

Burdens

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

February 25, 2018

2 Lent B

          My grandmother’s kitchen table was a large booth built right into the end of her equally large kitchen.  One long side of the table had chairs, but the two short ends and the other long side were booth seating.  Altogether, the table would easily seat 10-12 people, but unless you were lucky enough to score one of the chairs on the open side of the table, once you were seated there was only one way out without everyone having to move.  That way out was to scoot under the table.  As children, my sister and I were always at the very back of the booth, and while, theoretically, we could have asked to be excused when we finished eating and crawled out from under the table, we never did.  There was way too much fascinating conversation to hear.  All the gossip that was fit to speak in the small, sleepy town of Headland, Alabama was shared around that table, and we had no intention of missing one word.  Stories of death, divorce, errant children, run-ins with the law, and difficult spouses were just too good to miss.  And, because we were in the south, all of the stories ended basically the same way.  “Bless her heart.  She has such a cross to bear.” 

Over the past week and a half, the news has been filled with stories about people with crosses to bear that are infinitely more tragic than anything I heard around my grandmother’s table.  We have heard stories of families burying their loved ones in Parkland, Florida, survivors trying to make sense and make a difference, and the kidnapping of school girls in Nigeria.  Add those stories and so many more to the stories of our own loved ones who struggle with loss, or illness, or heartbreak, and Jesus’ words to his disciples this morning are not very comforting.  “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”  Do we really have to hoist our burdens and those of the world onto our shoulders to be followers of Jesus?  I want to follow the Jesus who said “Come to me all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will refresh you.”

          Jesus has just told the disciples that he must undergo great suffering, be rejected and killed, and on the third day, rise again.   Peter, understanding only the part about suffering, rejection, and death, rebukes Jesus for even thinking such thoughts. Jesus replies “Get behind me Satan!  For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”  Peter had set his mind only the bad news about suffering and death.  Peter has not heard God’s outrageous promise that after three days, Jesus will rise again.    

Only after Jesus has predicted his suffering, death, AND resurrection does Jesus say to the disciples “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Jesus explains what that means by saying “For those who want to save their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake and the sake of the gospel will save it.”  Jesus wants his followers to take up Jesus’ own cross, not the sum total of the world’s burdens.  On Ash Wednesday, we were marked with a cross that is the symbol of our own mortality and dependence on God.  That cross imitates the cross made on our foreheads in baptism where we were sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.  In baptism, the cross of Christ becomes our cross.  Jesus is telling us that to be his follower requires something of us.  What is required is to deny ourselves, pick up the cross of Christ, and go where Jesus leads.

          In the reading from Genesis, we hear another outrageous promise.  God promise is that Abraham, who is 99 years old and has no children, will be the ancestor of many nations.  How, exactly, is God going to create abundant new life from Abraham and his elderly wife Sarah when they have not been able to have children?  God’s outrageous promise is God’s promise to keep, but the promise requires a great deal of Abraham and Sarah.  The book of Genesis tells us that God’s promise will test their faith and their relationships many times over the remainder of their lives as they partner with God to bring about this multitude of nations and follow where God leads.

          When we focus on human things, as Peter did this morning and as Abraham and Sarah do at various points in their story, we see only the impossibility of God’s promise, if we are able to hear God’s promise at all. Peter could not hear Jesus say “and on the third day rise again,” and there are points in Abraham and Sarah’s story when they cannot believe God’s promise of descendants.   When we focus on human things, all we see is death and destruction and we fail to see where we are called to pick up the cross of Christ and follow Jesus.  But when we focus on divine things, on the outrageous promise to create life where all evidence points to death, we can be part of God’s outrageous promise.  

           In baptism, we allow ourselves to be claimed by God’s outrageous promise of life.  Just as God’s outrageous promise required something of Abraham and Sarah, and Peter and the disciples, God’s outrageous promise requires something of us.  That something is to live like people who believe God has transformed death into life.  The specifics will vary for each of us, but in the words of our Baptismal Covenant, our response to God’s promise is to seek and serve Christ in all people, to proclaim the gospel with our words and actions, to work for justice and peace, and to respect the dignity of every human being.  In a world where death too often seems to have the final say, we are called to pick up the cross of Christ, follow Jesus, and do something to be part of God’s outrageous promise that the final word belongs to life.                                                                                                   

                                                                                             Amen.

Wilderness

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

February 18, 2018

1 Lent B

When I was 11 years old, my family moved from a New Jersey suburb of New York City to Little Rock, Arkansas.  While I knew that life would be different in the south....less snow, for one thing...I was totally unprepared for importance of family ties in the south.  In the bedroom community where we had lived in New Jersey, pedigree did not matter.  No one cared who you were related to; no one would have known them anyway.  People moved in and people moved out.  If you didn’t get to know your neighbors quickly, you never would because one of you would move.   So, we were surprised when we moved to the south where the first question asked after being introduced to someone was a very patriarchal “who is your father?”  My father wasn’t anyone particularly important, but my grandmother had lived in and around Little Rock most of her life, knew lots of people, and in a pinch that would save me from being a total outsider in the 6th grade.  For better or worse, mostly the latter I imagine, pedigree told people who you were and something they thought important about you.

          Jesus’ pedigree seems to be of great importance to Mark’s gospel.  This is, after all, the third time in 2 months that we have heard the voice of God say to Jesus “You are my son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased.”  The first time was in January, January 7 to be exact, on the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus.  We heard the same gospel reading that morning...the heavens were torn apart, the Spirit descended on Jesus like a dove, and the voice of God spoke.  Then, last Sunday, on the Last Sunday after Epiphany, we heard the voice of God speak from a cloud at Jesus’ transfiguration and say “This is my Son, my beloved, listen to him.”  And then today, we hear the story of the baptism of Jesus again, followed this time by Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.  A third time, we hear the voice of God say “You are my Son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased.”  On three different Sundays in three different contexts, baptism, transfiguration, and temptation, we hear two stories where the voice of God says the exact same thing.  Clearly, Jesus’ pedigree, his identity as the Son of God, is important to Mark and tells us who Jesus is and something important about him.

The cynics say that the only reason that we hear the voice of God at Jesus’s baptism today, on the first Sunday of Lent, is because without the account of Jesus’ baptism, Mark’s account of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness is only two verses, hardly enough for a respectable gospel lesson.  Certainly, Mark gives us by far the briefest account of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.  Mark does not tell us how Satan tempted Jesus, as Matthew and Luke do.  But because Mark says so little, we are called to pay careful attention to every word he does give us. 

The story of Jesus’ baptism and the story of Jesus’ temptation are linked together because the first thing Mark tells us is that IMMEDIATELY after Jesus’ baptism, the Spirit DROVE him into the wilderness.   Jesus is not led by the Spirit, not filled with the Spirit, but driven by the Spirit.  Jesus was in the wilderness 40 days, as Moses was on Mount Sinai with God for 40 days and 40 nights, as Elijah spent 40 days and 40 nights without food on the same mountain, as the Israelites spent 40 years in the wilderness after their deliverance through the Red Sea.  And Jesus was not alone in the wilderness.  He was tempted by Satan, he was with the wild beasts, and angels waited on him. 

Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness defines what it means to be the Son of God, which is why we hear the stories of Jesus’ baptism and Jesus’ temptation together.  First, to be the Son of God is to trust the Spirit, the same Spirit that descended upon him as a dove, even when the Spirit of God takes him into the harsh barrenness of the wilderness.   Secondly, the Son of God is part of the continuing story of the relationship between God and God’s people, the same story in which Moses and Elijah had key roles.  Jesus will move the story further than either Moses or Elijah ever dreamed possible, but it is still the same story and the same God that Moses and Elijah encountered on the mountain and that led the Israelites through 40 years in the wilderness.  Thirdly, to be the Son of God is not to be exempt from suffering and struggle.  Quite the opposite.  To be the Son of God means engaging the suffering of the world and the struggle between good and evil.

On Ash Wednesday, we entered the Lenten wilderness.  The wilderness felt even more stark this year as we were reminded on Ash Wednesday of the darkness of violence and senseless death in the loss of 17 beloved children of God.  The Lenten wilderness is a place where we, like Jesus, wrestle with our identity as God’s beloved children.   How does our identity as God’s beloved children, and our understanding that all people are God’s beloved children, affect the way we live in a world where violence and suffering always seem to have the last word?  In this Lenten wilderness and through our Lenten disciplines, we learn to trust God where we have trusted our possessions, food, habits, or opinions for a feeling of security.    But our trust in God does not mean we just sit around and wait for God to act.  Through our study of scripture, we understand more deeply how we are part of the ongoing story of salvation, and how we are called to make this world more closely resemble the Kingdom of God.  And, like Jesus, we are reminded that being God’s beloved child does not mean that we are exempt suffering or the struggle between good and evil.  Instead, we will learn to find God in the midst of those struggles. 

The goal of Lent is not to simply survive in the wilderness until Easter.  The goal of the Lenten wilderness is to journey towards Easter in a way that deepens our understanding of who we are as God’s beloved children.  When we have a better understanding of who we are as God’s children, we will better know how we are to make this world more closely resemble the peaceable kingdom, where we can find God in the midst of the struggle between good and evil and how our lives can proclaim that the last word belongs to life.

                                                Amen.