Give Me the Head of John the Baptist: a reworking of a sermon in a new context.

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This sermon is built on the first half of a sermon that I preached three years ago on the readings assigned in the Revised Common Lectionary for Proper 10 in Year B.

Three years ago the sermon cried out for a different ending and as I approached these texts this year, in the context of a Baptism at our principal service that ending came into focus.

You can find the readings here

You can find the original sermon here.

The story of Herod, Salome, and John the Baptist is full of graphic and sensual images.  I would imagine that, thanks to multiple artists, playwrights and composers, none of us in this room has any difficulty conjuring up this scene.  A dimly lit space, stone pillars supporting an ornately carved ceiling, powerful people reclining on richly embroidered cushions while women in “exotic” dress move in and out serving platters of spicy food and drink.  There are open braziers in the corners and the smell of smoke and incense fill the room.

Then the music changes, a young girl enters the room, and she begins to dance.  The dance starts out slowly and then gains momentum and power.  The room is transfixed.  All eyes are upon her.  No one even tries to disguise his or her stares.  She has them all in the palm of her hand. And then she turns her gaze upon the king.

We jump now to a cell where John the Baptist has been imprisoned.  The guards storm in and before he can begin to defend himself they pin him to the floor and swing a sword.

The banquet hall falls silent as a platter is carried in and presented to the girl; a platter bearing the head of John the Baptist.

A visual, sensual and graphic story that comes easily to mind, complete with special effects and a soundtrack.  Mark, our Gospel writer, is a master of his craft and in this passage he has constructed a true work of art.  And yet all of the details, the sights, sounds, smells, that rush to mind when we hear this story can be problematic.  They can distract us from the real point of this story; a point that would be easy to miss unless we know a little history.

The Herod of our story is Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great.  It was Herod the Great who ordered the slaughter of the innocents when the Magi told him that a King had been born to the People of Israel.  This same Herod the Great had two of his sons executed in order to secure his throne as King of Judea.  Another of sons was convicted of trying to poison him.  At this point, with three older brothers removed from the line of succession, Herod Antipas, who appears in our gospel reading this morning, became heir to the throne.  But on his deathbed, in the last days of his illness, Herod the Great revised his will and divided the kingdom between Herod Antipas and two of his remaining brothers.  The three of them take to their case to Rome, each claiming sole rights to the throne.   Despite an early disposition towards Herod’s argument of sole succession, the tides turn and, in the end, he inherited only a small portion of what he thought would be his.

In a family like his, in a time where accession to power happens through the blade of a knife, a poisoned cup, the clash of armed men, Herod’s hold on his rule must have felt tenuous and insecure.  Everyone in that room with him was a potential threat, a would be assassin, coveting his throne, status, and power.

Into this highly charged setting comes a girl, his wife’s daughter, who beguiles everyone in the room and seduces Herod into an extravagant promise.  “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom” (Mark 6:22b, 23).  She runs to consult her mother and when she returns she says, “Oh father, I am but a child.  I would never presume to ask you for half of your kingdom.  Please, I would ask for something much less significant.  Give me the head of John the Baptizer, that evil gadfly who has been making my mother’s life miserable.  Give me his head on a platter!”

We already know this part of the story…  Herod has divorced his own wife and married the wife of his brother, while his brother is still alive.  John has been condemning Herod in public, saying that it is not lawful for him to have his brother’s wife.  The wife, Herodias, has been asking Herod to have John killed.  But Herod, until now, has refused and has protected John.  John’s words perplex and challenge him but the Gospel tells us, he thought John a Holy and Righteous man and he liked to listen to his words.  He must have recognized the truth in what John was saying, even if it did make him uncomfortable and make his wife angry.  But now Herod was in real trouble.

I am sure that when Herod made his promise to his daughter the crowd sucked in their breath.  This was an impetuous, even foolish promise.  What if she did ask for half the kingdom?  Would Herod make good on his vow?  When she came back into the room and told them that all she wanted was the head of John the Baptist the crowd probably laughed.  “Silly little girl.  She let him off too easily.  Well at least he can finally be rid of that tiresome preacher and make his wife happy.”

But in this moment the trap is sprung, the set up is complete, and Herod is in a bind.  The Gospel tells us that “out of regard for his oaths and for his guests” he could not refuse the girl’s request.  If he had refused, the easy way out of his predicament, his guests would have seen it as a crack in his armor, a sign of weakness, “Give the silly girl what she wants. You’re not really so attached to that rabble rouser are you?” It’s a difficult choice that confronts Herod in this moment and with a little historical perspective we have come to see the true nature of that choice.  Does he continue to protect John?  Does he continue to wrestle with John’s words?  Does he stand up and defend the Truth?  Or does he do the politically expedient thing, grant the girl’s request, and protect his own power, status, and rank, and prestige?

Our Gospel passage this morning asks us the same question.  When we are offered an opportunity to stand up for the truth; that all of creation is beloved of God, that we are all one, that the people on the fringes of our culture and society, the poor and the disabled are our brothers and sisters…  will we stand up for that truth or will we choose to protect the power we believe we have and our vain need to be in control?  Look again at our Epistle reading for the day,

“With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth”  (Ephesians 1:8b-10).

All things!  It is God’s good pleasure that all things, all people, and all of creation, live in Him.  Do we open our hearts, our minds and our doors to the “other” and embrace them as co inheritors of God’s love and grace?  Do we proclaim the good news and insist that everyone receive the benefits of the garden?  Or do we cast our eyes aside, take the politically expedient path, defend the status quo and thereby protect our own position in the smoke filled, dimly lit room as we recline on the cushions in Herod’s palace?

This is the same Herod who later in the Gospel will send Jesus back to Pilate to be condemned.  Today Herod is confronted with the truth in John the Baptist.  In a few chapters he will be confronted by the Truth in the person of Jesus.  When we recognize the parallel in this story, when the weight of what is happening as this girl makes her request of Herod is clear, everything else in the room should melt away leaving the spotlight to just two people…  Herod and… Jesus.

What would have happened if Herod had encountered Jesus before he encountered John?  Of course we can’t know that but I can’t help but wonder.  Having made the decision to protect our own status, position, power and rank, once we have denied and betrayed the truth, do we become locked into a pattern of behavior that is almost impossible to escape?  When we have chosen ourselves over the truth we become complicit in the crucifixion.  “Repenting,” turning back to the truth would require us to confront and to acknowledge our past behavior.  It is a slippery slope.  If we can’t be faithful to the truth in the small things, how will we be faithful to the truth in the big things?

We will make a good start today. We will proclaim to Aidan James Brown that he is a beloved child of God, adopted through Jesus Christ, sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.

We will renew our own baptismal vows and promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves.

We will renew our promise to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.

And we will promise to proclaim by word and example the Good news of God in Christ.

In all of this we will claim, through our baptism, our own beloved-ness, welcoming “the new life of grace” and “the courage and will to persevere” that will allow us to acknowledge our past behaviors. It is through our baptism that we can break the old patterns of denial and betrayal that have protected our own power, privilege and illusions of control and become the voice in the wilderness crying, “Prepare the way of the Lord!”

I said a few moments ago that when Pilate is asked for the head of John the Baptist everything else in the room should melt away.  We suddenly understand that the lavish imagery that we have constructed is a distraction, and maybe a dodge.  There is a lot more at stake here than a vengeful unfaithful wife, a conniving despot and the girl who has become their tool.  Through the artistry of his writing Mark has dragged us into the spotlight as well.  Jesus stands before us asking Herod to choose and he is asking us to choose as well.  Will we acquiesce, make the politically expedient and safe decision, or will we risk it all by opening the door to John’s prison cell and setting the truth free to transform the world?

Amen

Sunday at General Convention: A Great Sermon With a Little Back Story

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A fabulous sermon by Presiding Katherine Jefferts Schori is even better when you know a little back story. For the last three days people have been wearing purple scarves in solidarity with a movement at convention called “Breaking the Episcopal Glass Ceiling.”

In the 26 years since Barbara Harris, the first woman consecrated Bishop in the Episcopal Church, was consecrated we have consecrated 254 Bishops in the Episcopal Church. Only 21 of them were women.

Those purple scarves where around our necks, in our hearts, and in our minds, and I hope that now they are in yours, when you read the Presiding Bishop’s translation of the words Jesus’ speaks to the little girl he had raised form the dead – “Talitha cum.”

There is another point in her sermon that will benefit from a little back story… 12 years of hemorrhaging… 12 years ago, at the 74th General Convention of the Episcopal Church we affirmed the election of V. Gene Robinson as Bishop coadjutor of the Diocese of New Hampshire…

Here is a link to the readings assigned for this morning.  Please note that we used the readings in track 2

Here is the link to Bishop Katherine’s sermon

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General Convention – Zero Minus One and Counting!

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An awful lot happened on the last day before General Convention officially opens. Legislative Committees held meetings and Open Hearings at seven a.m. We all, Bishops and Deputies, gathered in the House of Deputies to hear opening statements from Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori and President of the House of Deputies Gay Clark Jennings. The House of Deputies had a two hour orientation to the new “Virtual Binder,” and at 1:30 in the afternoon we got the opportunity to hear from all four candidates for Presiding Bishop.   In the evening there were receptions hosted by The National Cathedral, The American Friends of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem, Integrity and a “host” of others. Then at seven p.m. the legislative committees reconvened for more meetings and open hearings. My day ended with a gathering of the Deputation from our diocese debriefing the meetings and hearings we had attended, sharing our impressions of the candidates for Presiding Bishop, and speculating about the shape and scope of the resolutions that would come out of the various committees in the next few days. It was a very busy day!

There are lots folks posting news, reviews, and resources to help the whole church stay informed about what is happening here.

I would highly recommend the opening statements by our Presiding Bishop and the President of the House of Deputies. You can view a video of their presentations here. If you are a Trekkie, and you know who you are, you will appreciate the way that Bishop Katherine riffs on the TREC (Task Force for Re-imagining the Episcopal Church) and the Episcopal Church’s mission to go where only one man has gone before… You can read an article about their opening remarks on the Episcopal News Service here. You can read the text of Bishop Katherine’s remarks here and the text of Rev. Jennings remarks here.

Our joint session for the presentation of the candidates for Presiding Bishop is also available to view on line. You can watch it here. And the accompanying article from the Episcopal News Service is available here. You can watch a short video of Deputies to convention sharing their impressions of the candidates here.

After all of this “pre work” the Convention officially opens today with an eight am legislative session to elect officers and begin the process of organizing the convention, the opening Eucharist, a full afternoon of legislative meetings and hearings, a two hour legislative session late this afternoon and more meetings and hearings after dinner.

I will post again later today with more news about the work of the various committees and the resolutions that are coming before the convention. Don’t forget to check out the Diocese of Milwaukee at General Convention for resources and info. We also have a facebook page where we are posting updates. The Rev Dorota Pruski, Associate at Saint Andrew’s in Madison is writing for Episcopal Herald, and our Bishop, The Rt. Rev. Steven Miller, is blogging at MilwaukeeBishop.

 

Peace,

Andy+

 

 

 

General Convention – Zero Minus Two and Counting

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If you look at the official web site for the General Convention you will see that it is scheduled to run from June 25th through July 3rd. The truth is that everyone is here already and the “work” of convention has already begun.

This morning deputies and Bishops lined up starting at 9 am to be certified (some of us have been certifiable for a long time but that is another story) to register and to receive the iPads that are going to make this a nearly paperless convention. It turns out that it is cheaper to rent an iPad for every Bishop and Deputy than it is to print the reams of paper that have traditionally been handed out during the week and a half of convention. You could see impromptu tutorials in iPad navigation happening all over the convention center as we all work to become accustomed to this “innovation.”

The Exhibit Hall was open at 9 am this morning with displays from vendors, Episcopal Seminaries, outreach organizations and ministries. I walked through the Exhibit Hall about six times today, not because I was looking for something to buy (didn’t spend a cent) but because every time I went into the space I ran into someone else I know but haven’t seen for a while: seminary classmates, colleagues form other dioceses, people with whom I correspond regularly on Facebook but have never met in person. The Episcopal Church isn’t really that big, we are very much like a family, and General Convention is our family reunion.

Legislative Committees began their work today, beginning to sift through the resolutions and proposal that fall under their purview, establishing schedules for open hearing and working sessions that will help to craft the resolutions that finally come before the floor of convention. And as all of this work was happening our iPads were magically populated with files, calendars, resource documents and draft resolutions.

The Deputation from the Diocese of Milwaukee met for an hour tonight to look at the legislative sessions scheduled for 7 am and 7 pm tomorrow, making notes about who would cover each of these sessions that they might report back to the larger group. The day will begin before seven am and will go close to ten o’clock tomorrow night and there isn’t much down time in the schedule between those legislative meetings and hearings tomorrow.

At 9 am both houses, The House of Bishops and the House of Deputies, will meet in joint session to hear presentations from Presiding Bishop The Most Rev. Dr. Katherine Jefferts Schori and from the President of the House of Deputies, the Rev. Gay Clark Jennings.

At ten o’clock the houses will adjourn to their respective halls for a two hour orientation and then at 1:30 we all will reconvene to meet the four candidates for Presiding Bishop. All of that will happen tomorrow, prior to the first “official” day of General Convention.

Check back tomorrow for “General Convention – Zero Minus One and Counting” and then again on Thursday for “General Convention – Day One!”

Peace,

Andy+

There are lots of resources for following General Convention on the Diocese of Milwaukee Deputation’s web site and regular updates will be posted to our facebook page.

That We All May Be One: Addressing Issues of Race and Racism in Madison Wisconsin

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This sermon, offered at Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Madison, Wisconsin is built around the Gospel reading for the Seventh Sunday after Easter in Year B of the Revised Common Lectionary.

You can find that reading here.

 

It’s glorious when it happens. Just ask any preacher you know. The light in their eye, the energy in their response will tell you that this is what makes all of the late nights, wrestling with difficult texts, struggling to find the right words… these are the moments that make it all worthwhile… when the sermon just seems to write itself. It’s almost like you just need to get out of the way. You keep your fingers on the keyboard or the pen in your hand and the words just flow through you onto the screen or the page. What’s really interesting though is when the sermon writes itself and you don’t even realize that is what’s happening….

Now I suppose that sounds a little strange so I want to explain what I mean but in order to do that I have to share a secret with you. Don’t tell Dorie I told you this but… those of us who work here in the office with Dorie get a little extra grace when it comes to turning in our article for The Crossroads. So while the official due date was well past I was sitting on my screen porch with my laptop yesterday feverishly working to crank out five articles!

Once I was done I turned my attention back to the sermon I had been wrestling with all week and the words from today’s Gospel reading that had so hooked me, that had me so enthralled.

In today’s reading from the Gospel of John Jesus says, “As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.” Jesus says that he has given us given us God’s word and that the world will hate us because of that word. Jesus is sending us out to proclaim the Gospel; that we are all one. And he knows that we will face resistance and push back. That the truth that we proclaim will put is in jeopardy. And so Jesus prays that God will protect us. Jesus prays that we will be on and he and the Father are one.

Jesus understands that the greatest danger in the resistance and push back we will receive is that we will forget, that we will become divided one against the other, that we will become alienated one from another, that we will lose sight of that basic truth; that we are all one.

Sitting there on my screen porch I suddenly realized that I had already written the sermon I need to offer you today in one of the articles that I had written for The Crossroads. So as we join Jesus in asking that as we live out our vocation, proclaiming the Gospel, we never lose sight of the fact that we are all one I would like to read you the sermon that wrote itself yesterday morning without my even knowing it.

Addressing the Racial Disparities in Madison and Dane County

This has been a dramatic and provocative week in Madison, Wisconsin. After a two month investigation and deliberation District Attorney Ismael Ozanne announced that he would not file charges in the March 6th death of Tony Terrell Robinson. The conversations around this incident have been difficult and divisive. The rhetoric on both sides has been heated and at times extreme.

As we approached the DA’s decision it was clear that, no matter how he decided, people would be hurt, angry, and even afraid. That is one of the reasons that an historic coalition of faith leaders gathered at the Park Street offices of Madison area Urban Ministries on the morning of May 8th.

We came together to formulate a response to the pending announcement that would allow all members of our community to give voice to their anger, fear, frustration and even their rage. That voice, the expression of grief is key to the work of reconciliation. There is no moving forward, there is no healing, there is no opportunity to work for constructive change, when the natural grief and anger that accompanies an incident like this one is squashed, repressed, or treated as unimportant or invalid.

The faith leaders gathered at MUM’s offices that Friday morning: Baptists, Jews, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Mennonites, Unitarians, and Episcopalians were looking for ways to encourage and facilitate the peaceful expression of these difficult emotions so that we might once again come together to address the larger underlying issues that have brought our community to this flash point of anger and frustration.

It was just two days later that the District Attorney gave forty eight hours notice that we was prepared to announce his findings.

So on Tuesday, May 12th we, the clergy and congregations of this remarkable coalition, gathered at 1125 Williamson Street, outside the house where Tony Terrell Robinson was shot, to listen to D.A. Ozanne’s 2:30 p.m. announcement.

We prayed and we stood together in solidarity, a witness to the unity that we will need to create if we are going to effectively address the systemic racism that has divided our community.

We stayed there outside the house as Tony’s family gave a press conference at the Community Justice Center up the street. We watched as teenagers, just released from school, and Tony’s friends began to assemble to express their pain, anger, and determination that Tony’s death be the catalyst for change in our community.

Then at five o’clock, when Tony’s family had finished their press conference and joined us there in the street outside the house where Tony died, we began a peaceful march through the city of Madison to the courthouse and then on to Grace Episcopal Church where we prayed, sang, and reiterated our commitment to the kinds of change that might keep us from ever finding ourselves in this place again.

We did all of this knowing that churches all over Madison, including Saint Andrew’s, were holding their doors open, creating places of sanctuary, prayer and dialog, so that members of our parishes and our neighbors in the community would have a place to go and express their own pain, grief, anger and fear.

As I participated in that march I was proud of the young people around me for their determination to demonstrate peacefully; for their commitment to justice, peace, and change; and for their willingness to raise their voices in the long standing and time honored democratic tradition of this country, demanding that they be heard, that they be recognized, and that their concerns be addressed.

I was proud of Saint Andrew’s and our brothers and sisters across the faith communities of Madison for its willingness to hold its doors open, to offer sacred space to whomever needed it, ready to extend itself no matter the decision that the DA rendered.

And I am proud to be part of an historic coalition of faith leaders and communities here in Madison that is willing to reach out across denominational, theological, and doctrinal lines to come together for justice, peace, equity and fairness. Following are some excerpts from the letter that coalition published.

“On May 8th a diverse coalition of faith leaders gathered at the Park Street offices of Madison-area Urban Ministry to formulate a unified response to District Attorney Ismael Ozanne’s pending decision regarding the investigation into the death of Tony Terrell Robinson.

 

While there is some internal conflict in our communities regarding the specifics of this particular incident there is broad agreement about the need to address the unjust systems laid bare in the Race to Equity Report and the Report of the Annie E. Casey Foundation.”

 

“At our gathering on May the 8th members of our coalition with long histories in this city marveled at our coming together; Baptists, Jews, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Mennonites, Unitarians, Episcopalians. No one could remember a gathering of the faith community that might rival the unity, determination and commitment that we are experiencing in this moment.”

 

“We also stand together as leaders of a broad coalition of faith communities demanding that we, as a community, respond in this moment to the larger issues of racial disparity that plague our community. We have come together to demand justice and we are not going to stand down until these issues have been addressed.”

 

“As we move forward as a community, as a city, and as a county we will continue to raise our voices for transparency, accountability and justice. An historic coalition of the faith community has emerged out of the current tragedy and crisis and we fully intend to continue to pressure our elected and appointed officials to address the underlying structural racism that has brought us to this moment.”

In the weeks ahead I hope to be announcing an opportunity for Madison’s faith leaders to participate in an intensive Anti-Racism Training offered by the YWCA. I am also looking for dates to bring one of the YWCA trained facilitators to Saint Andrew’s to walk us through the Race to Equity Toolkit so that we might better understand and interpret that data and gain a deeper sense of urgency around the need to transform our city.

I want to close with an important and potentially difficult point. The death of Tony Terrell Robinson and the response of this community has brought together an incredible coalition of faith leaders and communities, it has galvanized members of this city around the need for change and reform, it has brought the dangers of the disparities and inequities described in the Race to Equity and Annie E. Casey Foundation Reports into sharp focus for all of us.

We must and we will continue to demand clarity, fairness and justice in the shooting of Tony Terrell Robinson. We need to respond with compassion and care to Tony’s family, friends and community. They are suffering in the throes of unimaginable grief.

And we must acknowledge the failures that have brought us to this moment, the neglect, the indifference, and the racism that have resulted in this painful and terrible tragedy. But there is a danger in focusing our attention to narrowly on the events of March 6th and the protests and counter protests that have dominated the media coverage since that date.

The words of the Coalition of Faith Leaders call us to a broader focus:

“While there is some internal conflict in our communities regarding the specifics of this particular incident there is broad agreement about the need to address the unjust systems laid bare in the Race to Equity Report and the Report of the Annie E. Casey Foundation.”

The only way to redeem this tragedy, to find grace and hope in the midst of this painful sequence of events, is to find within ourselves the courage and strength to look beyond Tony’s death; to continue to call for systemic change; to work to change the attitudes, fears, and prejudices that alienate us one from another; to change the policies, procedures, and politics that have created the worse disparities between whites and people of color in the nation right here in Madison, Wisconsin. We can and we must stand together as one and do this work even as we promise never to forget…

What’s his name?

Tony Robinson!

 

Peace,

Andy+

 

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Sanctified Doubt: a Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter

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This sermon, preached at Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Madison Wisconsin on April 12, 2015, is built on the readings for the Second Sunday of Easter in Year B of the Revised Common Lectionary.

You can find those readings here.

 

It’s so, so difficult… maybe even heartbreaking to walk into a group of people whom you love, who love you, with whom you have shared your life and your trials, your joys and your successes, and suddenly find yourself on the outside. Maybe it’s something as small as they all watch the same episode of Downton Abbey last night and you missed it and so you can’t be part of the conversation. Maybe you don’t even like Downton Abbey. But that conversation is happening and you can’t be a part of it. Maybe this is the moment when all of your friends have decided to talk about their partners and how wonderful life is as a couple and you are the only single person in the group. It’s as if you suddenly have no part in the conversation, no part in the community. Or maybe you’re the only childless couple in the group and this is the day that everybody decides to talk about the miracle of what’s in the baby’s diaper this week. You can’t participate. You are not part of that conversation. The more important the issues the harder it is to speak up. Maybe you’re the only social conservative and a room full of liberals and you find your self unable and unwilling to risk saying what you think and believe. So I think we have some sense of what life must of been like for a whole week for Thomas.

Thomas shows up there in that upper room with the rest of the disciples who have seen the risen Lord, they’ve seen Jesus, and he comes into the room and they’re excited the room is filled with energy. But you weren’t there and you don’t have that same experience. I think it was a tremendously courageous thing for Thomas to do, to give voice to his doubts. Well it was either courageous or he was from Madison. I’m not sure which it is. But Thomas did. He said that unless I see the marks of the nails in his hands, and the wound in his side, and touch those wounds, I won’t believe.

It must have cost him a lot to say that there in that group of people. I’m sure he was afraid he would alienate himself from them or that he wouldn’t be able to participate in the life of this group anymore. We don’t know how that time played out. What we do know is that it wasn’t until a week later that Jesus appears again in that upper room and presents himself to Thomas. So for a whole week Thomas is wrestling with his doubts and his concerns and his lack of participation in this conversation. It must have been excruciating.

I also wonder what it was like for the rest of the disciples. They were excited, they were on fire, the room was filled with energy… and here comes Thomas the buzz kill. Thomas comes into the room… can we still talk about this? Can we be as excited as we were? Is Thomas still a part of us? Do we even still want him around? It must’ve been in excruciating week.

And then Jesus does present himself once again, there in that upper room, to the disciples. I think it’s really important for us to recognize what his goal is, what he’s doing in that moment. When he walked into that space I wonder what was going on in Thomas’ head. Did he think “I was wrong!” Was he afraid? Was he concerned? Was he filled with joy?

Jesus didn’t come into that space and say, “Thomas, you doubter… get out of here! You have no place with us!” He didn’t say, “If you can’t understand this then you need to go…”   What he did was he showed up in that space to offer Thomas what he needed. He showed up to offer Thomas what he needed despite his doubts, despite his concerns, despite his struggle.

I wish we could re-create that moment when we need it here in this place. So often I talk with people who are in the midst of some crisis, who are having some terrible loss in their life, experiencing some tragedy… and they express their doubts, and their concerns, and their fears, and their struggles to me… and they do it with an apology. It’s as if there’s something wrong with struggling, as if there’s something wrong with doubting, as if there’s something wrong being human. Because to be human, to be flesh, is it to wrestle, to strive, to struggle with God, and with our faith, and with our belief. All through our Scriptures we read about people who struggle, and test God, and are tested by God and the relationship ebbs and flows back and forth and yet God does not abandon them. God uses them to bring about God’s purposes in the world.

I don’t think today’s story is a story about doubting Thomas. I think today’s story is a story about God, and how God acts in the world, how God interacts with us. And in this moment what God is doing is sanctifying, sanctifying Thomas’ doubt.

Thomas is there with his doubts and Jesus comes to him and offers him everything he needs but doesn’t ask anything of him; doesn’t demand that he assent to the truth of his resurrection. I think that’s the key thing for us to remember. Oftentimes I hear people ask, “What does God need, what does God require, what does God demand of me?” I think the only answer to that question is to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.

But the real way answer to that question though is to turn it, as Jesus would do if we asked him the question, and to say, “It’s not what God requires or wants from you that matters in this story. It’s what God wants for you.”

What does God want for us? God wants for us to have life and to have it abundantly, to be freed from the shame and self doubt and fear that binds us, keeps us isolated from one another, keeps us isolated from God, keeps us isolated and alienated from our very selves!

In this story we see God coming to us and saying, “Have what you need. Take from me what you will. And step into the light and live here with me.

I think it’s crucial for us to recognize that all of this happens in the context of this community that, we are imagining but to believe, was under some great stress for this week between Jesus’ appearance to the disciples and his coming again to meet with Thomas. I think that it’s a remarkable thing that Thomas is still there. After a whole week he still showing up in that upper room with the rest of the disciples. And it’s a remarkable thing that a week later the rest of the disciples are still welcoming him, at least on the surface. They’re letting him in. And so when Jesus comes to present himself to Thomas it’s not just Thomas’ doubts and fears that are being addressed. It’s the relationships that exist between everyone in the community, and this becomes a witness to the rest of the group. That to doubt is not a sin. To wrestle and struggle is not wrong. But to be together while you do it means everything.

So I don’t know if it was courageous of Thomas to give voice to his doubts and concerns or if he was just for Madison, but I know one thing for sure all the people in that room that night they were Episcopalians. Because that’s who we are. We are a people, we are a tradition, we are a group of Christians who recognize that to struggle and to wrestle with God, and with our faith, and what we believe is human, and important, and part of the relationship; that relationship that moves back and forth, that ebbs and flows, that is breathing, living, and dynamic. That’s who we are; a people bound together by the things that unite us, who are willing to set aside the differences that may divide us, because we know that what binds us and makes us one is far more important to who we are, to whom God is, and to who God is calling us to be.

When we gather here together I would be willing to bet that there are people in this room, in this community, there are people among us who struggle with some of the words of the creed, who struggle with other parts of the prayers. And yet we come together, and we say these things out loud in one another’s presence, and hope that they will shape and form us and make us one.

I’m pretty sure you’ve heard me tell this story before but it just fits so well… It’s an apocryphal story. I heard someone else tell it in the sermon so I don’t have names, and dates, and specific places…   It’s a story about a seminary professor whose family is killed in a tragic automobile accident. Daily Eucharist is required as part of this seminary’s life for all students faculty and staff. After a month this professor goes to the Dean and says, “I have to resign my post.” The Dean is shocked and asks why. The man says, “Because I can’t sit in the pew and say those prayers. I can’t be there in that place and proclaim my faith because it seems to have gone dry.” The Dean says to him, “That’s all right. You continue to teach your classes. And you continue to come to chapel. And we will say the prayers for you until you can say them again your self.”

As we make our way through this life we will all suffer loss. We will all experience tragedy. We will all encounter events that will call the deepest parts of who we are into question, and leave us wrestling, and struggling. What’s key, what’s more important than anything, is that we continue to come together, to hold one another up, and to allow ourselves to be held. Because when we gather together, here in this upper room, we can be sure that Jesus will appear and give us what we need to believe.

Look around you will find him in the faces of the people in the pews beside you, in front of you, and behind you. You’ll find him in the light streaming through these windows. You’ll find them here at this table as we gather with our hands outstretched to receive the sign and the symbol of his ongoing presence among us. You’ll find him offering his wounds, his love, his light, and his truth as we gather together as the body of Christ. This is not a story about a doubter. This is a story about a God who sanctifies our wrestling, our struggling, and our doubts and love every bit of it, as God loves us, and forms and shapes us, so that we can offer that same love to one another here in this place.

Thanks be to God!

Amen

Telling Stories and Singing Songs in the Dark: A Sermon for The Great Vigil of Easter

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Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

So what did you tell them? How did you explain to your family, friends and co-workers that you wanted, that you needed to be in church tonight?

I imagine that it might have been a pretty hard sell. It’s Saturday night and Madison is filled with attractive options: restaurants, theaters, music… The weather is finally beginning to feel like spring and people are anxious to be out and about… And I hear tell that someone is playing basketball tonight….

Funny thing is, no one asked me what I was doing tonight. I guess my family, friends, and co-workers all had a pretty good idea where I would be and what I would be doing. But if they had asked… I would have told them that I was going to be busy telling stories and singing songs in the dark.

Telling stories and singing songs in the dark… How would that have worked for you? How would people have responded to your describing this night in that way? They might have thought you were joking. They might even have laughed for a moment. But that’s when you would have had them.

“Yeah. It’s great! We light a fire and use the flames to light candles for everyone. We tell stories about our family: who we are, where we come from, and where we have been. We sing songs that describe what we hold dear and what we believe. Then, as we get to the real turning point in the story, the moment where it all comes together, we turn on all the lights, shout for joy, and share a meal together while we continue to tell our story!”

I am guessing that at this point anyone to whom you described the Easter Vigil in this way, even if they had never been to church, would be recognizing something very familiar and powerful in what you were saying. Something in your description of what we do this night would have resonated with them because there is something primal, something central to who we are, something that transcends all boundaries and divisions in the ritual telling of stories.

We engage in the ritual telling of stories all the time. We gather for marker events in the lives of individuals and groups, of communities and nations; at birthdays and anniversaries, when goals have been met or accolades won, at moments of celebration and of loss, on the occasion of important decisions or the declaration of decisions joined…

We play our music, dance our dances, relive and recreate our dramas. We dress in the way of our people. We eat the food that has fed us in the good times and the bad…

And we tell the stories that bind us together and form our identity; the stories that grind and polish the lens through which we interpret our lives and the world around us.

This is the night when we, beloved children of God, spiritual descendants of Abraham, gather to retell, to rehearse, to recollect the stories that bind us together, that define and shape our identity, that grind and polish the lens through which we interpret our own lives and the world around us. This is the night when we proclaim once again, who we are, and whose we are.

We gathered in the dark, and engaged in ritual, kindling a flame to represent the light that has come into the world. We have shared that flame among the people gathered and by its light alone we have participated in our story; claiming and proclaiming that God has created all that is, that all of creation draws its life and meaning from its creator, and that we: you, me, all people, are created in God’s image.

We have rehearsed the checkered history of our walk with the God who created us. Who created us not out of necessity or in response to any deficit within God, but out of extravagantly generative Spirit of creativity and love. We have recalled God’s promises and God’s faithfulness even when we were unable or unwilling to be faithful to God.

We have walked on dry land as the seas foamed and raged about us, finding our deliverance and freedom from slavery as God has delivered us through the waters of baptism.   We have heard once again Wisdom’s promise of a life lived in God’s joy, peace, and abundance and the promise that God will place God’s spirit with in us, that we will be God’s people and that God will be our God.

Here in a world lit only by fire we experienced the despair, the dryness of spirit and the desolation that falls upon us when we rely on ourselves alone and forget the God who creates, redeems, and sustains us.   And in a foreign land, far from home we have felt anew the vigor and life that comes when the Spirit of God fills us and breathes in us and through us once again.

And with God’s promise to restore us, a reaffirmation of God’s faithfulness and the promises that God has made to us, ringing in our ears, we stood and renewed our promises to God, binding ourselves once again to the one who comes among us to set us free, trampling down sin and death by rising victorious from the grave!

We engage in ritual story telling all of the time, at all sorts of events, and for all sorts of reasons. But this is the night when we, beloved children of God, spiritual descendants of Abraham, gather to retell, to rehearse, to recollect the stories that bind us together, that define and shape our identity, that grind and polish the lens through which we interpret our own lives and the world around us. This is the night when we proclaim once again, who we are, and whose we are.

Beloved of God, on this night, this is where we want and need to be!

Our story is compelling. It is life giving, but there are other stories, other narratives to pick from. Every day we are flooded with stories about our own self worth, about things, things that might make us whole, that might fill the hole we feel within ourselves. Every day we hear stories about the “others’ in our world, about their intent to do us harm, their desire to take what is ours, to destroy what they cannot have. Every day we hear stories that demean God’s children, that point fingers and cast blame, that divide, that alienate, that corrupt and destroy the children of God.

These stores are wrapped in rituals of their own: the Nightly News, Political Speech with all of it’s pomp and circumstance, the infallibility of the internet, Facebook… These might not strike you as rituals at first blush but look closely. They are presented with ritual and we create our own rituals around the way that we receive them.

This is the night when we, followers of Christ, must proclaim again and again, who we are, and whose we are.

We need to gather as a people, to engage the rituals, the liturgy that adds depth and meaning to the stories. We need to hear the stories as happening in the present, to live them as they are told, to recollect them. It is essential, if we are to be faithful to the vows and promises that we have made to one another and to God, that we gather in the dark, light a fire, tell stories, sing songs, and share a meal.

We tell this story not for ourselves alone but for him who died and rose for us. We tell this story to stand against the stories and narratives that demean, corrupt, and destroy. We tell this story as an offering to the world, as an invitation to life and love abundant. We, along with God’s beloved children all over the world, tell this story so that it’s light is never overcome by the darkness.

Our families, friends and co-workers may have been amused by our decision to spend this Saturday evening telling stories and singing songs in the dark, but even a short explanation of what we are all about this evening should strike a chord, might even stir some longing within them, and who knows… It might even offer you the opportunity to tell the story wrapped in the particular rituals, an early morning walk, a cup of coffee shared in a favorite place, a meal shared around your kitchen table, that mark your relationships with those people.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed!  Alleluia!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Sermon for Wednesday in Holy Week

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Andy Jones's avatarA Mad City Episcopalian

This sermon, given at Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church on April 17, 2014, is based on the Gospel reading for Wednesday in Holy Week. 

You will find that reading here.

Here on Wednesday in Holy Week we sit riveted as the pace of the unfolding drama picks up speed. Today we hear a story that is part John’s account of the Last Supper. We hear the story that sets the machinery of the world into motion and that will finally result in Jesus hanging dead on the cross on Good Friday. It is story of terrible juxtaposition. We have the beloved disciple, the one whom Jesus loved leaning against his breast as the Disciples share this last meal together; and we have Judas, one of the twelve, leaving to summon the temple guard to the place where Jesus will be arrested. This juxtaposition heightens the anxiety we feel when we hear…

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Loving God, Loving your Neighbor – a Call to Political Activism

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This sermon was preached at Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church in Madison, Wisconsin on March 8, 2015.

It is built around the readings for the Third Sunday in Lent Year B of the Revised Common Lectionary.  You can find those readings here.

The law of the Lord is perfect and revives the soul. The testimony of the Lord is sure and gives wisdom the innocent. The statutes of the Lord are just and rejoice the heart. The commandment of the Lord is clear and gives light to the eyes…  More to be desired are they then gold more than much fine gold. Sweeter by far than honey, than honey in comb Psalm 19).

I wonder how many of us have that sort of relationship with the law. Laws are designed to keep us safe, to protect our rights, to protect our property, to govern the way that we interact with one another so that we can be secure and that life might be predictable. But in the end I think we usually think of the laws as constraints, of ways to manage our behavior and the behavior of others.

The people of Israel had a very different vision of the law.   The law gives wisdom to be innocent, rejoices the heart, gives light to the eyes, is more to be desired than gold, and is sweeter than honey from the comb.   How is it that they could have such a different understanding of and relationship with the law? The wonderful Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggeman gives us some insight into the people of Israel’s relationship with the 10 Commandments. He says “These commandments might not be taken as a series of rules but as a proclamation in God’s own mouth of who God is and how God shall be practices by his community of liberated slaves.” A proclamation in God’s own mouth of who God is and how God shall be practiced by his community of liberated slaves. So how can we understand the 10 Commandments in that way?

Take a look at the Commandments as they are printed in your bulletin in the first reading. I am the Lord your God brought you out of the land of Egypt out of the house of slavery you shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an idol, no images of God to come between God and God’s people. And we are not to use God’s name in vain, either to swear by or swear with. Our relationship with God is defined in these first three commandments. And then there’s this commandment that functions sort of as hinge piece, here in not quite the middle of the list… Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy. Set aside one day a week to bask in this relationship, in the light, grace, and mercy of God’s love, and to remember who you are and who God is.

On the other side of that hinge piece there are six Commandments that describe how we are to practice God with the people around us. You shall not murder, shall not commit adultery, shall not steal, shall not bear false witness, shall not covet… all of these proclamations in God’s own mouth of who God is and how we are to practice God. All of them are about our relationships with one another, and our relationship with God.

Mother Dorota read the summary of the law at the beginning of the service as we knelt to confess our sins and ask for God’s absolution.   The first and greatest commandment is this; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul mind, and strength. And the second is like it. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. This proclamation of who God is and how we are to practice God in the world is all about our relationships and the ways that we love one another.

It was with these words ringing in our ears and in our hearts that we gathered yesterday at noon at Christ the solid rock Baptist Church. Early in the morning an email had gone out from Linda Ketcham, the director of Madison Urban Ministry, asking clergy in Madison if they would contribute to the funeral expenses for Tony Robinson who was killed on the east side of Madison Friday night. In response to that request, as several of us were promising funds to help defray those costs, Pastor Everett Mitchell of Christ the Solid Rock Baptist Church hit “reply all” and invited the Madison clergy to join him at noon to pray together and to be in solidarity with one another and with the Robinson Family.

When I arrived I had a member of our parish with me who had asked for a ride. We met two other members of the congregation who joined us there. Leanne Puglielli who has, as she said yesterday, one foot at St. Andrews and one foot at Christ the Solid Rock was seated there waiting for us.   We said some prayers. We heard some details about the events of Friday night and Saturday morning that we didn’t know.   And then we were offered the opportunity to brainstorm together about how we might, as the community of liberated slaves in Madison, continue to “practice God” as we move forward together.

Now I’m sure that there are some people who would say that we were doing something wrong in gathering together. That what we were doing was entering into the world of politics and that the world of politics is not the place for the church. But if you strip away the pejorative baggage that gets associated with the word “politics” and think about it at its core politics is really all about the way that we relate to one another in the public square; how we are in relationship with one another, how we treat one another, and that is what the 10 Commandments are all about. God’s own proclamation about how we should “practice God” in the community is inherently a political statement.

One of the clergy stood up at that gathering yesterday and said that he thought the clergy of Madison should gather together in fellowship on a regular basis. There was a murmur of ascent in the room and as he passed me on his way back down the center aisle to his seat I stood up, extended my hand, and I said, “I’m embarrassed to have to say that I don’t know your name.” For the next half an hour we went around the room one by one and introduced ourselves and named the faith communities where we serve and worship. At the end of that period of introductions we were all profoundly struck by the number of faith communities who were represented in that place and the power that we have as the church when we stand together in that way. We wrestled with things that we might do, ways that we might address what happened on Friday night. And we knew in our hearts that together we can make a much larger difference then we can as individuals.

I think that there is a real temptation in the wake, in the chaos left behind after Tony Robinson’s shooting of Friday night to adjudicate the events of that night, to decide who was at fault, to lay blame. We will hear more about the events, more details will surface, and invariably blame will be assigned. But I think that we need to be very careful as those details emerge. This morning in the State Journal there is an article that describes four events in the last several weeks where the Madison Police Department have had guns trained on them, had bullets fired in their direction, and they did not respond with deadly force. Some of those events involved white people, some involved black people, some were in affluent neighborhoods, and some were in less affluent neighborhoods. We need to be careful that we do not paint with too broad a brush as we color the events of last Friday night.

But we also need to recognize and honor the fact that a young man, Tony Robinson, is dead. And a mother and a family and a community are grieving. And that in the wake of these events we are grieving too. I think that our grief needs to grow out of the conversation that we have been having here at St. Andrews and in Madison for the last year. The Annie E. Casey Foundation report, The Race to Equity Report, have cast light on the disparities in Madison and in Dane County. We have spoken of them often, both here in this pulpit and in conversations in the parish hall around the tables at the Sunday forum.   We know that there is an illness there is a disease in Madison and Dane County. The anger and the frustration and the rage that have erupted over Friday night’s shooting are evidence of that illness. And we dare not leave that illness unaddressed.

Another commentator that I read this week, in speaking about the 10 Commandments, had this to say, “Those who ignore the divine teachings do so at their own peril – not because God is standing over them with a hammer, but because the teachings describe the way of life. To ignore them is to wander into the ways of death instead, where God’s faithfulness can be of little help.” When we do not love God with all of our hearts, soul, mind, and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves we are wandering into the ways of death. And the event that we have seen in this city over the last several days are the fruits of that wandering.

So what can we do there will be a letter from the Madison clergy, all of the people who attended the meeting yesterday and many who could not, including our own bishop who has phoned me and is anxious to lend his support to what we are doing here in Madison. That letter will go to the media, to the Mayor, to the Chief Koval, to anyone to whom we can deliver it. It will say that the church in Madison: Episcopalians, Lutheran’s, UCC, the Methodists, the Presbyterians, Jewish congregations, the Buddhists who were there yesterday, are all standing together and demanding that the investigation into Friday night’s events be transparent and just.

And even more importantly, demanding that we address the faults in the system that have led us to a place where the city erupts in anger, and suspicion, and frustration over an event like the one we experienced Friday night.

I saw a Facebook meme the other day, there’s this picture of Jesus in the Temple overturning the tables with a whip in his hand. The people in that picture looked pretty shocked, trying to get out of his was as the coins rolled across the floor, the tables piled in a heap. The painting didn’t portray them but I imagine that even his disciples were pretty surprised at his response to what he found in the temple. It had been going on for a long time. It was part of the status quo. When you arrived at the conclusion of your pilgrimage at the Temple you were required to offer an animal without blemish as a sacrifice. And even if the animal you left home with it the beginning of your journey was unblemished it would be very difficult to keep that animal in that pristine state on that long and difficult journey. So unblemished animals were sold in the temple grounds. When you entered the temple you paid a temple tax to help with Herod’s reconstruction program and you could not use the Roman coin because it was engraved with Caesar’s image. You traded your coin of the Empire for a coin that you could offer in the Temple one with that was not idolatrous in its very manufacture. So the need for these services seemed apparent. But something had gone wrong. The synoptic Gospels Matthew Mark and Luke tell us that there was some corruption. In their Gospels Jesus as you have turned my father’s house into a den of thieves. John doesn’t say that John has Jesus say, “stop making my father’s house a marketplace.” Whatever the reason the status quo was broken and in order to change it Jesus overturned some tables. That painting that I was telling you about of Jesus with the tables turned over and people looking shocked coins on the floor and a whip in his hand… the caption said, “the next time somebody asks you what would Jesus do… tell them that turning over some tables and chasing people with whips is within the realm of possibilities!”

We are called to love the Lord our God with all of our hearts, soul, mind, and strength, and our neighbors as ourselves. That is a radically political statement… political at its core! In order to love in that way, to bring about the kingdom, the vision, the dream that God has for all of us… for Madison Wisconsin, for the county, for all of creation… we may need to raise our voices. We may even need to overturn some tables as we challenge the status quo and push on the people who have power to make the changes for which the Gospel cries. If we don’t follow Jesus into the Temple this Sunday and take up that cause, then we are not “practicing God” as his community of liberated slaves in the way that the 10 Commandments God gave to Moses on Mount Sinai calls us to live.

So fasten your girdles around you. Put on the breastplate of righteousness. Take courage; follow our Lord, as we demand that we become a community that practices God together.

Amen

A Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany

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In this sermon, delivered three years ago this past Sunday, I make reference to an article by Pastor Alex Gee of the Fountain of Life Covenant Church and his experience as an African American male here in Madison, Wisconsin.

The conversation that began three years ago is still going on, gaining momentum, and beginning to bear some fruit. And yet the call to action in this sermon preached three years ago is no less relevant, no less urgent than it was then.

As we enter the season of Lent, a time when the church calls us to a season of self examination and repentance, we need to be listening to the voices that call out to us demanding justice, freedom, and the right to live their lives as full members of our community, beloved of God, made in God’s image, our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Andy Jones's avatarA Mad City Episcopalian

Last night I went to bed early and set my alarm clock to allow me to sleep in a little.  I had a sermon ready to go and so I assumed I would sleep well.  After a very restless night I awoke convicted by the idea that I had prepared the wrong sermon.  The events of the last two weeks, things I had read, conversations that I had participated in, all came together to help me to see that I needed to say something different about today’s Gospel reading.  at the conclusion of the 8:00 service I knew that I had not quite gotten it right.  It was coming together but wasn’t done yet.  The sermon that follows is what I said at the 10:30, as best I could reconstruct it at 4:30 this afternoon when I finally got home.

This sermon draws on the Gospel reading for the Last…

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