Children of the Living God

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

July 28, 2019

12 Proper C

          In the baptism service in the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, the edition immediately prior to the prayer book we now use, right after the lessons and prayers and just before the baby was baptized, the priest said “Name this child.”  The service recognized that God knows and calls us each by name, and that names are important.  Our name distinguishes us as individuals.  The way someone says our name can communicate love or displeasure.  My name connects me to my godmother and cousin, and to her grandmother who was my great-grandmother, connecting me to a story much larger than my own.   The names Don and I gave our children were carefully thought out, combining names we just like with names that connect them with a larger story.  Names are important.

          So, I am somewhat taken back by the reading from Hosea this morning.  God instructs Hosea to take for himself a wife of whoredom, for the people have committed whoredom by forsaking God.  If that is not bad enough, God then instructs Hosea and Gomer to name their children Jezreel, as a sign of the punishment to come; Loruhamah, because God will neither pity nor forgive the house of Israel; and Lo-ammi meaning that the people are no longer God’s people and God is no longer their God.

          So now we have three innocent little children caught in the middle of an ugly dispute between God and the people of Israel.  This is the kind of story that gives the Old Testament a bad reputation and casts God as an angry and vengeful god.   While the final verse of the passage promises that God’s anger will not have the final word, anyone familiar with the cycle of domestic violence knows that the violence is often followed by apologies and promises, which are then followed by more violence.  Passages of scripture such as this one have often been misused to justify violence against women and children.

          So, what are we to do with this reading?  Rather than look at all of Scripture through the lens of one passage, we are always called to look at any single passage through the lens of all of scripture.  Fortunately, our other readings today help in this regard.  The psalm sings of the graciousness of God and the way God restored the good fortunes of the people.  The psalm recognizes God’s fury, and God had every right to be angry at the transgressions of God’s chosen people.  But the psalm also calls the people to turn their hearts back to God and listen to what God is saying, for God is speaking peace to God’s faithful people.

          The reading from Colossians reminds us how God calls us to live, rooting our lives in Christ and abounding in thanksgiving, and not turning away from God toward human tradition.  The passage from Luke’s gospel teaches us how to pray and reminds us how very much God loves us and wants good things for us.  The prayer that Jesus teaches us reminds us of our deep connections with God and each other.  If we believe that God’s name is hallowed, or holy, we believe that God has a claim on us.  If we ask for God’s kingdom to come, then we imply that we will pattern our lives after the values of that kingdom.  If we ask to each be given our own daily bread, we admit our dependence on God and our trust that God will care for us.  And as we ask forgiveness of our sins, which is to be reconnected with God and those we have offended, we offer that forgiveness to others, willing to admit that we are connected even with those who harm us. 

          How does any of this help us with Hosea?  Hosea was a prophet in Israel in the 8^th century before the common era.  God’s people were worshiping foreign gods in the hopes that those gods could save them from the Assyrians.  The commandments of God had been forgotten, as murder, theft, and unfaithfulness were rampant.  Widows, children and the poor were being neglected.   The story of the Exodus and God’s deliverance of the people from slavery in Egypt had been forgotten.  The way God called the Israelites to live was not that different from the way the readings from Colossians and Luke’s gospel call us to live, rooted in God’s love, abounding in thanksgiving, remembering our connection to God and all people.  No one knows for sure whether Hosea’s family as described this morning was a real family with three real children or is an allegory of the people’s unfaithfulness. But either way, what is clear is that God is justifiably angry.  Why is God so angry?  God’s heart has been broken by the deep unfaithfulness of the people God has chosen and whom God loves. 

          So, this morning, in the context of all the rancor and division in our country, in the context of the deplorable ways human beings, particularly children, are being treated, in the midst of our concern for our own rights more than the rights of others, we hear God’s call to live our lives rooted in Christ, abounding in thanksgiving, living into our connections with God and all whom God has made.  We hear the absolute heartbreak in God’s voice in the reading from Hosea, naming the sin of God’s people, and calling them and us to live as children of the living God and to treat all people as children of the living God.  The good news is that God loves us, despite ourselves.  The challenge is the demand God places on us to actually live our lives as the children of the living God we are created to be.

                                                                             Amen.

Follow

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

June 30, 2019

8 Proper C

          When I was in London earlier this month on my continuing education adventure, my classmates and I spent a lot of time navigating the tube, or the underground, more commonly known here as the subway.  I confess that the tube terrifies me.  Getting lost above ground where I can see street names and landmarks, and there are Ubers and taxis is one thing.  Getting lost below ground is something else entirely.  Traveling underground is totally counter intuitive to me and I have no idea how to get from one place to another.

          However, I learned about a great app for my phone called city mapper.  This app takes all the guess work out of traveling by the underground.  The app automatically knew where I was, so all I had to do was put in my destination.  The app would guide me to the correct entry point, get me on the right train, and tell me where and how to change or get off.  Suddenly the tube was far less terrifying, and I could get where I wanted to go, step by step. 

          If only there was such an app for following Jesus so we would know exactly how to follow Jesus in any given situation.  Today’s gospel reading seems to be a lesson in how not to follow Jesus.  Apparently, disciples of Jesus do not get to use their spiritual power to command fire to come down and consume those who do not offer hospitality to Jesus or themselves.  James and John want to try that this morning when Jesus is rejected in Samaria.  Jesus, who had not too many chapters ago taught his disciples that they should love their enemies and do good to those who hurt them, does not find the disciples’ offer amusing.  Jesus rebukes the disciples which is something Jesus generally reserves for unclean spirits.  Next, someone runs up to Jesus and says “I will follow you where ever you go!”  This sounds a bit like Elisha this morning who insists that he will not leave Elijah, even when Elijah offers him the opportunity to stay put while Elijah faces whatever is ahead.  Twice Elisha says “As the Lord lives and as I live, I will not leave you.  And Elijah does not argue.

          But what does Jesus says to the person who wants to follow him? “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head."  What does that even mean?  I have no idea whether Jesus is saying “yes” or “no” to the man.  So are we to offer to follow Jesus or not?

Then Jesus calls someone to follow him, but that person wants to bury his father first, which seems quite faithful to me.  “Honor your father and mother” is one of the 10 commandments, after all.  Leaving the dead to bury the dead seems to be both heartless and in violation of that commandment.  So, are followers of Jesus to follow the 10 commandments or abandon them?  Another person offers to follow Jesus, but only after saying good-bye to those at home.  Clearly the person realizes that following Jesus means going where Jesus is going, or there would be no need to say good bye.  Soon, Jesus will encounter a lawyer who will ask Jesus how to inherit eternal life.  Jesus will ask the lawyer “What is written in the Law” and the lawyer will respond with the summary of the law “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself”  (Luke 10:27) which Jesus will indicate is correct.  Is not saying good bye to those you love before heading out on an unknown mission part of loving your neighbor as yourself?  Apparently not, according to Jesus who replies “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God."  Ouch!

          So, how are we to follow Jesus when Jesus himself makes discipleship complicated at best and at worst, impossible?  Where is that Jesus app when we need it?

          Perhaps there is a clue for us in the reading from Galatians where Paul describes the Christian life as a life of freedom.  “For freedom Christ has set us free.”  Paul makes clear that what we are freed from in Christ is bondage to the negative forces that can consume us and in which we can get lost-such as jealousy, anger, quarrels, envy, idolatry, and on and on.  We are freed in Christ to find our way as followers of Jesus by opening ourselves to the gifts of the Spirit, which are the liberating gifts of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.   There may not be a city mapper app for navigating the Christian life, but Paul gives us pretty clear directions here.  When we wonder how to navigate a particular situation as a follower of Jesus, the gifts of the Spirit may not tell us exactly what to do, step by step, but they do give us some direction and keep us from losing our way. Whether we are thinking about our own families, or our neighborhoods and community, or the pressing and very urgent problems of our national life, I believe Jesus calls us to filter our actions as his disciples through the gifts of the Spirit and use those gifts to guide our discipleship.  Imagine what the world would be like if all who call ourselves followers of Jesus lived our lives according to love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  We can only start with ourselves.  Jesus calls us to follow him by keeping our hand on the plow of love and our eye on making this world a bit more like the Kingdom of God. 

                                                                             Amen.

Labels

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

June 23, 2019

7 Proper C

          When I was in 6^th grade, my family moved from a suburb of New York City to Little Rock, Arkansas.  The culture shift was huge, despite the fact that both of my parents were from the deep south and my brother, sister, and I were raised as southern children even in New Jersey.  One of the many differences was that, in a suburb of New York City, people moved in and out of the neighborhood at a dizzying pace due to job transfers.  We had to get to know our neighbors quickly or they would be gone.  But in Little Rock, the community was much more stable and families there went back for generations.  While no one in New Jersey cared who you were related to, in Little Rock, that mattered.  A lot.  Even to eleven year olds.  The simple question “What is your name?” was a loaded question with implications far beyond a first and a last name.  The real question behind the question was “who are your people?”  Fortunately for us, we did have roots in Little Rock, and I was Sarah Polk’s granddaughter, Anne Banks’ niece, and Charlotte Brown’s cousin.  We were related to someone, which gave us an identity and roots there. 

          “What is your name?” is the question Jesus asks the man possessed by demons this morning.  This is a straightforward question in a very odd story.  First, how does the man know Jesus will arrive on the shore of the country of the Gerasenes?  When the man sees Jesus, why does he basically say “Leave me alone” when the man is the one who came to the shore to meet Jesus in the first place?  Why does Jesus agree to send the demons into a herd of swine?  And why on earth, once the man has been healed and asks to follow Jesus does Jesus say “no” and send the man home?

          There is something here to offend just about anyone.  Mental health is not an issue of demon possession.  Sending demons into a herd of pigs which then rush down into the lake and drown does not constitute humane treatment of animals.  And is not discipleship about following Jesus?  How does Jesus expect to attract followers if he sends them away?  If you are confused or offended by this story, you are not alone.

          “What is your name,” however, seems like a straightforward and even kind question.  We have heard about the plight of the man, how he wore no clothes and lived in the tombs, and how “he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.”   We have been told that there is no longer any distinction between the man and the demons as the man has asked Jesus not to torment him when Jesus commands the demons to leave him.  But Jesus takes the time to ask the man his name.  The man’s reply further shows the lack of distinction between himself and the demons when he replies “Legion” and we are told that this is his name because many demons had entered him.  Rather than a name, the man has a label.

          Interestingly, the reading from Galatians also deals with labels.  Paul is making an argument in Galatians that Gentiles who desire to convert to Christianity do not need to become Jews first.  I think it is important to note that Paul is speaking here to Christians about Christians.  Paul was a faithful and zealous Jew at one point, so to think that Paul really believed that Judaism is all about legalism would be to think that he did not know his Hebrew scriptures.  Paul’s point here is to remind the Christians in Galatia that they are all one in Christ. Their identity comes from being baptized in Christ and clothed in Christ.  Their identity no longer comes from being Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female.  All are one in Christ.  Labels that divide and separate no longer apply.

          The man called Legion had a label that indicated his complete separation from everyone and everything, including himself.  When Jesus frees the man from the demons, the man is no longer separated.  He is sitting still, clothed and in his right mind.  He is free to go home.  He is free to be the person God created him to be.  And yet, no one is happy.  The swineherds are not happy.  Their livelihood has just rushed into the lake and drowned.  The people in the surrounding country are not happy.  They were seized with fear and asked Jesus to leave, which he does.  Even the man who has been healed does not seem happy.  The man begs Jesus to let him go with Jesus, and the fact that he begs indicates that he really, really does not want to go home.  My guess is that he is afraid of his newfound freedom.

          But Jesus says “no.”  He tells the man to return to his home and declare how much God has done for him.  Perhaps Jesus is asking the man to claim his primary identity as a child of God.  Living without labels and living with freedom is hard, as the people in Galatia knew all too well.  We can all too easily slip into labels that divide, whether along ethnic lines, or age, or gender, or socio-economic status, or education and use these to define ourselves and others.  Living fully as people whose primary identity is as a children of God means letting go of all the separates us from each other and living as people who are connected or related to each other, recognizing our common roots and the identity that comes from being made in the image of God.  Jesus calls us to go, and declare how much God has done for us, and claim our fundamental identity as children of God. 

                                                                   Amen.

         

Trinity

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

June 16, 2019

Trinity Sunday

          As many of you know, I returned home this week from 10 days in London studying the ways growing congregations are connecting with their communities and making a gospel difference in their neighborhoods.  The 10 of us in the class, plus our instructor, visited large churches and small churches.  We saw churches with amazing historic buildings and no building at all.   We met leadership teams that were made up of clergy and lay people, and some that were entirely made up of lay people.  And we experienced worship that ran the gamut from a service held as part of a dinner meal to an Anglo-Catholic mid-week service using the 1662 English Book of Common Prayer.  I have only half-jokingly referred to the 10 days as boot camp for church geeks.

          One characteristic all of these congregations had in common despite their diversity was an intentional focus on relationships.  Everyone we met radiated such joy in their relationship with God and in their ministry that we could not help but feel some of that joy ourselves.  The ministry teams we met had deep relationships with each other.  They prayed together regularly and worked to build community among themselves so that they worked together as one team with one mission rather than as a collection of individuals doing their own work.  And every congregation we experienced was deeply connected with the community they served, listening to the needs, the hopes and dreams of the people around them and finding ways to connect and build ministry around what they heard.  While I have many learnings from my trip, perhaps the most significant reminder for me was the call to always be working to deepen our relationships with God, each other, and the community we serve.

          Today, the church celebrates Trinity Sunday.  What, you might reasonably ask, do with my experiences in London have to do with Trinity Sunday?  Trinity Sunday always falls on the Sunday after Pentecost and is sometimes thought to be the one Sunday of the year when we celebrate a doctrine of the church rather than an event.   Usually we celebrate the birth of Jesus, or his baptism, or the events of Holy Week, or the resurrection.  Or we hear stories about the things Jesus did or stories he told.  But today we celebrate the God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The Nicene Creed, which we say each week, is built around the Trinity.  We say “We believe in God, the Father almighty.”  “We believe in Jesus Christ, his only son, our Lord.”  And “We believe in the Holy Spirit.”  In the first chapter of Genesis, which, in my ideal world would be one of our readings for today, we are told that we are created in the image of God. “In the image of God he created them, male and female he created them.”  One of the interesting questions about the Trinity is “What does it mean that we are created in the image of the God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?”  What does it mean to be made in the image of the Trinity?

If our readings from Scripture this morning would explain the Trinity, that would be helpful.  But they do not, and that is because there are only a few places in Scripture that even mention all three parts of the Trinity in one breath, much less give us an explanation.  At the end of Matthew’s gospel, in the great commission, Jesus sends the disciples out to baptize in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  There are a few places in John’s gospel, such as today’s gospel, where Jesus refers to the Father, himself, and the Advocate, or the Spirit, in the same passage, but there is no explanation.  The apostle Paul will often mention two of the three persons of the Trinity in the opening of his letters when he says something like “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”  So, with all due respect to both Jesus and Paul, they are not very helpful in trying to understand the Trinity.

Taken together, however, today’s readings do shed some light on what the Church means when we say that the one God we worship is Father and Son and Holy Spirit, or Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.  In the reading from Proverbs, the Spirit is personified as Wisdom, the female voice of God that cries out to the people.  Wisdom reminds us that she was present when God created the mountains, the earth and the fields, the heavens and the foundation of the deep.  The passage ends with the reveling of Wisdom, or the Spirit, in the deep joy of being in relationship with the Creator and creation: “And I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race."

Paul tells us in the reading from Romans that we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, and that God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, giving us all three members of the Trinity.  God has worked in human life not just as the Creator, but also as the one who has brought us peace through Jesus Christ and sustains us with the Holy Spirit.  And in the Gospel, Jesus tells us of the way that God will speak to us through the Spirit of Truth, and that what belongs to Jesus belongs to the Father.

What we learn about the Trinity from these readings is that God has always been in relationship, even before there were human beings.  We have one God who is intentionally and intensely relational in nature. Today’s readings are just a sample of the many places in scripture that tell us that from the beginning, when the earth was a formless void and waters covered the deep, God has worked in human history as the creator, the redeemer, and the sustainer.

Trinity Sunday calls us, as the image of God, to mirror that intentional relationship for the world.  The Trinity calls us to be in relationship with God, each other and the world around us the way that the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, or Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, are in relationship with each other.  Just as the Trinity is one God who is and has always been in relationship, we are called to live as the image of the Trinity by being one body, always in relationship.  God’s love has been poured into our collective hearts, as Paul writes, so that we can pour out that love to God, to each other and to the world. 

                                                                   Amen.

Home

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.