From my sermon for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany:

I suspect that most of us have a difficult time relating to the kind of biblical story we have in Mark’s Gospel this morning about an exorcism of an “unclean spirit” from a man in the synagogue and Capernaum. I have come to believe that people in the 1st century understood as do people in the 21st century, that sometimes we are caught up in forces that are not genuinely us. The road to healing lies in our relationship to Christ and to one another.

Sermon can be found here.

From my sermon for the Second Sunday of Epiphany:

Part of what is going on in the story of old Eli and young Samuel is God choosing someone outside normal channels, an unexpected, unlikely one, a very young one, to do God’s work. Samuel will become Israel’s first great prophet. That God has not called Eli or his sons, but an inexperienced child calls into question some of our assumptions about who is truly qualified to be persons through whom God works. Samuel will become Israel’s first great prophet. That God has not called Eli or his sons, but an inexperienced child calls into question some of our assumptions about who is truly qualified to be persons through whom God works.  We too, can hear the loving voice of God, and find ourselves called to new ways of participation in the healing of the world.

Sermon can be found here.

“To utter the name Jesus is to make a statement of faith as well as to give voice to a prayer.  Jesus is our salvation, the One sent to redeem us, to keep us from falling away from the God who created us for a meaningful life. In the human life of Jesus, God shares our place, in the midst of our very brokenness, he offers us grace—the grace of unconditional love, forgiveness for our faults, the ability to see and embrace what truly matters.  And what matters is a life of communion with God and others, a life of care; of collaboration, and loving service.”

My sermon can be found here.

The author David Dark, in his book titled, “Everyday Apocalypse” offers this helpful insight:

“Apocalyptic literature cracks the pavement of the status quo.  It is the place where the future pushes into the present.  It’s the breaking in of another dimension, a new wine for which our old wineskins are unprepared” (p. 12).

I wonder if that isn’t a penetrating insight, not only about apocalyptic literature, but about Advent itself – it “cracks the pavement of the status quo.”  There’s something on the horizon, this literature says, something breaking into our ordinary world that needs to be looked for, paid attention to, and be invited in. If you think about it in that way, then maybe we can better understand why it is that we start every liturgical year, with these apocalyptic teachings of Jesus, not to remind us of doom and gloom, but to invite us to pay attention, to reflect on how God is coming into the world, and how are lives might be different and changed in the here and now.

This of course, is the exact opposite of what our culture is urgently telling us to do, which is to get busy in the marathon of shopping and social engagements which leave us depleted and exhausted by Christmas Day. It is hard to believe that stores are now opening on Thanksgiving Day.

Perhaps you saw the outrageous incident on the news where at a Los Angeles Wal-Mart, a woman used pepper spray to get an edge on shoppers in a rush for Xbox game consoles.  And while we may criticize the commercialization of Black Friday, it is interesting to note that some of the people are waiting for hours in line on Black Friday because they can’t afford to buy what they need at full price, and these teaser sales are incredibly helpful to them.  The people standing in line on Black Friday are not usually the wealthy or the well off. It is those with far less income than we have who are most often forced to stand in those lines.

What are we to do?  Can we even celebrate Advent in a culture so out of tune with the liturgical year?  Is it even remotely possible in the month of December to give ourselves time to notice the “cracks in the pavement of the status quo,” to apprehend the ways that God’s future kingdom is “pushing into the present?”

Well, yes, of course it is, but it will require us to make some choices about what we will give our attention to in the days ahead.  It takes faithful effort to avoid rushing towards Christmas. And so I would like to authorize an official slowdown for ourselves in the next four weeks. I invite you to make a deliberate, counterculture decision to spend a few minutes each day in quiet, to create space for Christ to come into your life in a new way. Take a ten-minute break a couple of times a day while you are at work and simply go outside and breathe. When your boss asks you what you think you are doing, just answer, “My priest has authorized this.”  Our health and our future require a more contemplative way of being and seeing.  Find a way each day to slow down and be quiet.  Notice the cracks in the pavement of the status quo.

Listen to the full sermon here.

The meditation below is based on Luke 24:13-35 and was written by Dr. Paul Gooder, a freelance writer and lecturer in Biblical studies, and Canon Theologian of Birmingham Cathedral.

Her insights into the Emmaus story inspired my sermon on this passage given at Holy Comforter, Vienna, yesterday.

As we walk away, defeated and disillusioned, Jesus meets us. As we sling insults at each other, Jesus stands alongside.

As we tell our stories of bemusement and betrayal Jesus listens. As we stand still gloomily, Jesus waits ever patient.

And then breaks in.

Walking with us, opening and explaining, accompanying, comprehending, unpacking, until the moment comes in an ever-familiar action that we realize that the one for whom we wait has been present all along.

From my Easter Sermon:

It’s not theories about the historical basis for the resurrection that we need, but the practice of resurrection in our lives and communities. We build the resurrection into our thinking about what will happen to those we love and what will ultimately happen to all of us.  We know that can’t redeem the world by our own efforts; it will take a mighty act of God to complete it at the last.  But we can build for the kingdom.  Every act of justice, every word of truth, every act of genuine beauty, every act of forgiveness, every act of generosity, ever act of self-sacrificial love, is an act of resurrection.

The prayer that comes from the heart on behalf of one in need, the setting aside of my own longings in order to support and nourish someone who depends on me; the work done in the office or home with integrity and care; all of these and many more are ways we practice resurrection and make it a verb.  We may not yet see, in this often-dark world, how these actions will fit into God’s eternal purpose; but the fact of the Resurrection, assures us that they will.  We have a destiny beyond death.  That hope is born today.

Let me end with a few lines from the wonderful philosopher and poet, William Berry:

So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute.
Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Put your faith in the two inches of hummus that will build under the trees
Every thousand years.
Listen to carrion–put your ear close,
And hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world.
Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable.
Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.
Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary,
Some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Full sermon here.

Working Preacher.org sponsored by Luther Seminary offers this Video with insightful commentary that a certain preacher may include in his sermon this Sunday.

A Sermon for the 20th Sunday after Pentecost, October 11, 2009

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind: “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? 
Gird up your loins like a man, 
I will question you, and you shall declare to me. 
”Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” (Job 38:1-2).

Last Sunday, Fr. Jody launched our Stewardship Season with a sermon about the man who came to Jesus, and with great reverence asked the question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” “You lack one thing,” Jesus tells him. “Go, sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”  It was as if Jesus was conducting an intervention for this man.  Jesus knew that if the man would change just one thing, namely his anxious relationship with money, then everything else would change.  “Show me the money!” was what Rod Tidwell asked of Tom Cruise who plays Jerry McGuire in the movie of the same name.  “Show me your trust” is closer to what Jesus was looking for—in the rich man, and in us.

This morning, I want to look at the practice of stewardship from a slightly unusual angle, and quite honestly, one that I have not attempted before.  I want to look at stewardship as a personal and communal response to the problem of evil and suffering in the world.  Some people find innocent, excessive suffering to be a philosophical problem, if not a question of spiritual survival.  It seems to call into question the very existence of God.  We are currently looking at this problem in our current series in the Adult Forum, and our first reading from the Book of Job brings the issue front and center stage for us today.

If there is a God of love at the heart of the universe, why has this God allowed history and life to proceed as it has?  Philosophers and theologians throughout the ages have pondered this problem in eloquent and forceful ways. We have a word for it. Theodicy. It is a way of speaking about God (theos) with justice (diké) How doe we speak about God with justice precisely in circumstances of innocent suffering and the challenges that this life presents us. It seems very difficult to understand at times and to believe in a God of love amid real, tangible, unexplainable human suffering.

The most detailed exploration of suffering in the Bible, if we can call it that, is to be found in the elegant poetry of the book of Job.  God, as the story goes, allows a shadowy figure, “the Satan,” to test Job.  Job who is a good and righteous man loses everything, his family, and his possessions, even his health.  Job’s friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, suggest a traditional explanation, a traditional theodicy: suffering is a result of wrongdoing and sin.  So Job must have sinned.  Later, another friend, Elihu stresses the way in which suffering can be used by God to transform us, a sort of ‘soul-making’ theodicy.  So we have, even in the book of Job, these two possible answers: suffering is related to sin and human evil or it is allowed by God for the purpose of making one’s soul deeper or obedient.  Finally, after extensive and passionate pleading from Job, God delivers an answer out of the whirlwind.  And it is an extraordinary answer: God asks Job various questions, all of which make clear that God is the creator and Job might just want to remember how small and insignificant he is by comparison.  So God says:

“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? 
Gird up your loins like a man, 
I will question you, and you shall declare to me. ”Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? 
Tell me, if you have understanding. 
Who determined its measurements—surely you know! 
Or who stretched the line upon it? (Job 38:4-5)

And so it goes on.  In a remarkable set of questions put by God to Job, God makes the point that the creator is not obliged to provide answers to the questions his creatures ask.  We will hear the rest of the story in the reading appointed for next Sunday.  But in the end, Job repents of the temerity of daring to ask demanding questions of God.  However frustrating it might seem, God is not going to explain to him or to us why the innocent suffer.

Now I’m gong to make a claim here, and you may disagree with me, that’s fine, but I would say that the Bible, Holy Scripture, does not give us a clear cut answer to the issue of evil. It gives us directions, it gives us some ideas, but I don’t think that any serious theologian, or serious leader in the church, or really any serious Christian would come to a point where they would say, “I understand the nature of evil and suffering.”  If you meet such a person, run!  I just don’t think we get that from God at this point.  I think there are reasons why.

So if suffering and evil do not logically disprove the existence of God, there are many who would say, “O.K., but I’m still angry about it. All this philosophical speculation does not get the Christian God off the hook.”  You can come up with all kinds of theodicies, but when the rubber meets the road, will those theodicies help you or not?  You still have some ambivalent feelings, you will still be confused and exasperated.  And if you love God, you will be angry with him. Timothy Keller, Pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City, recently wrote a Book titled “The Reason for God” which I would highly recommend.  He brings up this very good point:

The Christian God came to earth to deliberately put himself on the hook of human suffering.  Christianity may not explain all the reasons for evil and pain, but it provides the deepest resources for actually facing suffering with hope and courage rather than with bitterness and despair.[1]

I think Keller is right.  The question of why God allows a world where there is evil and suffering, is really not the question the Bible seeks to answer.  The question it does seem to answer is “What is God doing about it?” It’s one thing to ask why its there, but what is God doing about the evil and suffering in the world? Now that is what the overarching narrative of both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures is in fact concerned to answer.  Bishop N.T. Wright in his excellent book, “Evil and the Justice of God” writes,

[The Biblical Story] is about the messy way in which God has had to work to bring the world out of the mess – ever since the garden, every since God’s grief over Noah, every since the Tower of Babel and Abraham, somehow, God has to get his boots muddy and, it seems, to get his hands bloody, to renew and restore the world.  How is he doing this?  Well he works within the world of his people.  Once God decides, with the call of Abraham, to work to address the problem of evil through people who are part of the problem as well as part of the solution, there’s going to be a lot of messiness which will reach it’s climax when God not only gets his feet muddy with the mess of the world, but his hands bloody with the nails of the world. [2]

You see where Wright is headed.  Jesus is the way indeed, in which God has dealt and is dealing with evil and suffering in the world. Every season of Lent and Passion week we read the Gospels about how the evil in the world, be it, political, social, personal, or moral, reached its height, and how God’s long term plan for Israel and for God’s self finally comes to a climax.  In the story of the Passion, we don’t get a philosophical explanation of evil, what it is or why its there, but rather we get the story of how God is dealing with evil, through what happened to Jesus and what is going on in and through his church today. For me, this is a more accessible approach to the question of evil, because ultimately that is where I have to turn in my suffering and the challenges of my life.  Where do you turn, in other words, to find hope, and courage, and direction when suffering crosses your path?  What does faith mean and do for you in those moments when you can’t explain your suffering?

So when people ask “why is there evil in the world” or say “I don’t believe in God because he allows children to die innocently,” for me, the best way that I can address that issue is the Gospel itself and the person of Jesus and that’s the only way that I can address it.  For many people that’s a big leap, and we have to acknowledge that. But if it were not for the participation of Almighty God in his creation, if it were not for the fact that Jesus shares our human journey and walks our road with us and for us, if it were not for this, then I would have a very difficult time being a practicing Christian.  I need to know that the God, who has given life and existence to all things, suffers with his creation and not apart from it.  God is a fellow-sufferer is the most vivid and compelling reality that has caused me to trust in the kindness of God and the loving-kindness of Jesus.  What I learn from the life and passion of Jesus is that God will not preserve me from suffering but God will preserve me in suffering and through suffering.  I can trust that he will be there, even in hidden ways. It means that we should show solidarity with those who are suffering, sharing their burdens as best we can.  When we do this, when we share in the suffering of others, we are not only enduring suffering, but in a real sense fighting against it.

Now, this is where the subject of our stewardship finally comes in.

The call of the Gospels is for the Church, for you and for me, to actually implement the victory of Christ, the achievement of God in Christ: you, me, have this task.  God works with his people to respond to the evil and suffering in the world.  The suffering love of God lived out by the Spirit in you and in me in this Christian community as answer to the evil and suffering of this world.  And if that’s true, what incredible dignity we have been given by God, that we are part of the answer to evil and suffering.  Your work in the world, what you do with your time, contributes, I believe, to the answer of evil and suffering in this world.  The church needs to stand up against evil and be involved in its defeat because we are followers of God in the way of Jesus.  I used to always ask in the face of horrendous evil and injustice, “Where is God?”  But I’m retraining myself.  Now I’m asking, “Where are God’s people?” Because we pray, “May your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.”  Where are God’s people?

So when we choose to give the “first fruits” of our resources, our time, our income, our gifts and talents, we’re not merely giving them to provide for the operational costs of this church.  What we are actually doing is giving them as a response to the evil and suffering in the world, so that we can proclaim God’s unconditional love for all people in Jesus Christ; so that we can feed the hungry, so that we can seek justice for the poor and disadvantaged, so that we can nourish the hearts of young people and adults and older people, so that we can in actions of worship, discipleship, and mission, manifest what God wants to do in this community and in the world, and to provide an environment for support and for healing for those who are up against life’s greatest challenges.  That’s what our financial stewardship does; it is a tangible way of overcoming evil and suffering with good.

I can’t tell you how much it has meant to me, as I continue to grieve over the death of my dear father, to receive the genuine sympathy and compassion of this congregation in multiple ways– beyond my expectation.  It has been an immeasurable help to me to know that so many of you have walked the road of grief, and that you understand from the inside what that’s all about. You are there to walk it with me. I know that my experience of being held in the love and prayers of this community is not uncommon but the shared experience of so many both now and in the past.  When we make a pledge and we put our resources on the line for Holy Comforter, we are making a statement.  “You do not have to bare your suffering alone.  We are your friends.  We are your community.”

So brothers and sisters, you know what stewardship season is all about.  Every year, as your Rector I ask you to think, to pray, to stretch, and to give sacrificially for God’s mission in this place.  Why?–as an active response to the problem of evil and suffering in the world. I ask you to engage in the spiritual practice of giving God the first fruits of your life and labor, not simply the fruits that are left-over.  I ask you to keep Holy Comforter’s life and witness vital and strong.  I ask you to fill out a pledge card and offer it this Sunday or over the next two Sundays and let it be part of the glad offering we make in thanksgiving for all the blessings we share in this place.

Let me offer a final summary.  We are not told—not in any way that can satisfy our deepest questioning—how and why there is evil and suffering within God’s wonderful, beautiful, and essentially good creation.  What we are promised now is that God will make a world in which all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well, a world in which healing and forgiveness are the foundation stones and reconciliation is the cement, which holds everything together.  And can I tell you that we are given this promise not as a matter of whistling in the dark, not as something to believe in even though there is no evidence, but something to rejoice in because of Jesus Christ, his death and resurrection, and his Spirit at work through his Church.  It takes faith.  It takes courage.  It takes our gifts to make that promise a reality in this world.  Amen.

[2] See N.T. Wright, Evil and the Justice of God, (Downers Grove: Ivp Press, 2006) particularly chapter two “What Can God Do About Evil?” pp. 58-59.  The specific quote I use in this sermon is found in a dialogue between N.T. Wright and Bart Ehrman at Beliefnet.com – http://blog.beliefnet.com/blogalogue/is-our-pain-gods-problem/

“When David had finished speaking to Saul, the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul” (1 Samuel 18:1).

In my sermon today I suggested that there is between a father and his children, a bonding of soul similar to the bonding of soul between Jonathan and David.  I remember the moment each of my three children were born and holding them in my hands for the first time.  How can a father look into the eyes of his children and not see there a reflection of his own soul?  If only we would look more often!

As a father, I know that I can’t protect my children from the difficulties and tragedies that life presents.  If I could, it would be tempting.  Deep in our hearts we would like to build a protective bubble around our children; after all when our children hurt, we hurt, when someone abuses our children it is you and I who get angry.  When our children are confronting a crisis, we are the ones who toss and turn in our beds with sleeplessness.  Our souls have bonded with their souls.  But the reality is that if we could protect our children from any and very hurt they would never grow into responsible, differentiated, and mature adults in this life.  Life is difficult, and the sooner we allow our children to discover this in their own experience, the better off they will be.  The most important thing is to stay connected to them, especially when they are hurting or confused, to listen to them, and to be more of a light for them than a judge.

Many of you know that my own father is very weak and fighting an aggressive form of leukemia.  I know eventually there will be an “end and a departing” and that every conversation now is one to treasure.  But can I just say that his personal example of facing the difficulties and tragedies of life with faith and courage are among the most important things that he has taught me?  And I think this is the greatest gift that a father can pass on to his children–this capacity to trust even in the most difficult circumstances of our lives, that we are “ever walking in God’s sight.”  There is a bonding of the soul that happens with our fathers, especially when we know they truly believe in us—it just goes that deep.  And by so doing, they show us far more about the art of living this human journey than they could possibly imagine or even dare to take credit for.

The hard truth is that in a world that is still unfolding, there are no guarantees that love will be without pain, even tragedy.  We may yearn for but never know the love and guidance of a committed father or a committed mother and we may not know the full love and maturity of a child with whom our own souls have bonded.  We may carry a great sadness in our lives due to the vulnerability that is part of all human relationships.  I believe in the fullness of time such sadness will be redeemed.  Until that day, I want to cherish the bonds of heart and soul that do exist between fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, friends and companions.  Let us never take them for granted, nor allow too much time to pass before we speak and show our love as opportunities arise.

My sermon included a tender story my brother Rob posted on his blog about a father and son who rediscover the bond between their souls by observing a little sparrow.  Here’s a link to the story as it is poignantly portrayed in a short Greek film entitled, “What’s That?” It’s a gem.

What is that? (Τι είναι αυτό;) 2007 from MovieTeller on Vimeo.

Snippets from part one of a three sermon series I’m offering at Church of the Holy Comforter in Vienna, Virginia.

David Kinnaman, president of the Barna Group, published a book in 2008 called “unChristian.” And in the book he outlines the results of a survey of some 400 young adults ages 16-29 “outside” of the church and the results are pretty unsettling, at least they were to me.  Today 40% of persons age 16-29 have opted out of the church.  20% consider themselves atheists, or agnostic, the rest are spiritual just not interested in the Church or the Christian faith. What these kids are saying is “We reject Christianity. We don’t necessarily reject Jesus—we reject Christianity.” When they are asked why, the primary reason they cite isn’t a theological reason; it has to do with the Christians they meet.

Now, I happen to believe that we are a congregation that offers a gracious welcome to all people, that we are, and can certainly be more so, honest and transparent about our own flaws and shortcomings, that we are all sinners learning a new and life-giving way.  But the terrible perceptions that people have of the Church and Christianity are definite obstacles to our future as a congregation.  What needs to change?  How can we live a real and authentic faith in a real and challenging world?

That’s a question I’ll be seeking to answer in this sermon series I’m offering before the season of Lent.  But as we learn today in today’s Gospel reading, we must respond in the authority of Jesus’ compassion and love.  We must not avoid those who are on the outside of the Church but meet them as they are and where they are.

“Nothing that we despise in the other person is entirely absent from ourselves. We must learn to regard people less in light of what they do or don’t do, and more in light of what they suffer.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

[MARK 1:21-28] Sermon audio below:

Download audio file (RFINARW1.mp3)