Sunday, May 31, 2015

Holy Trinity Sunday



Did you know?  Holy Trinity Sunday is the day that strikes fear into the hearts of preachers everywhere.  There is this expectation, mostly self-imposed, that we will impart some great wisdom or explanation about this enigmatic holy mystery, but as my friend Matt Schur said, “pastors, good luck with trying to write an engaging, faithful, and yet somehow non-heretical sermon.”
          We’ve all heard the analogies with their feeble attempts to explain the Trinity:  steam, water, ice; peel, flesh, core; shell, white, yolk.  But none of these quite get at the heart of it.  Even as a child, I felt that these explanations always trotted out during the children’s sermon (and, true confession time, I even used the apple one once myself) they left the whole idea of the triune God flat and lifeless.  God is so much more than that…so much more than water, an apple, or an egg could ever really explain.
          Because somethings are called mysteries when we can’t quite wrap our human brains around them, and that’s ok.  I think we’ll understand it when we’re meant to. 
          Meanwhile, why is it important to dedicate an entire Sunday in the church year to that which we can’t effectively talk about?  Because even in the unexplainable mysteries of faith, God is revealing Godself to us.
          In the today’s gospel lesson, Jesus explains some portion of the Trinity by talking about his own role in our salvation:  God gave the Son that the world might be saved through him. 
This week in class at Seattle University, my friend Benji Anderson explained, “This I believe; that Jesus’ salvific act was not in his death nor was it in his resurrection, but in his life… The life of Jesus perfectly exemplified how to live in covenant with God through right-relationship with neighbor and God. In doing so Jesus models love, community and justice, which are the true elements of salvation.”
          And yes, I believe the life of Jesus does teach us that loving our neighbor is the bedrock of community and the fulfillment of our covenants with God.  Loving our neighbor requires an inbreaking of mutuality…a kind of existence in which we place the same kind of value or worth on the lives and being of our neighbors as we do on our own.
Jesus teaches us that the only way to the Father is through the Son; and what did the Son, what did Jesus do in his life and witness? Benji goes on to say, “The Son taught us how to be in right-relationship with one another by reconciling the outcast to the community of God, by showing us that our neighbor included enemies and by modeling love through acts of service. Furthermore, the biblical witness explicitly states that right-relationship with God is not possible without right-relationship with neighbor.”
Our call, our holy invitation, is to follow Jesus.  And the power to follow the example of Jesus of Nazareth can only come from the blowing, pushing, and whispering of the Great and Holy Spirit.
          God reveals God’s self to us in three persons.  And I think that tells us an awful lot about God and about how we are to live with one another.  God in community.  God in relationship.  God with us and for us and through us.  God full of love.
          I’ve heard that the reason God went through all the trouble of creation…those seven days of labor and creativity and rest and admiration and proclamation (“it is very good”), is so that God would have more to love.  But the Trinity makes an even more radical statement that from before time began the only way we can begin to think about or to talk about God is to dwell on the idea that love is the core of who God is…the only way we humans can really begin to grasp the self and being of God…that God’s great being is love and love completely and love entirely and the only way that can properly be expressed is if Godself becomes a relationship, but even then…as though God is not content to dwell only in the love of the three persons of the Trinity…God invites us into God, too[1].
          Now for something a little bit different, another of my classmates from SU (my classmates were amazing this week, ya’ll) offered this image of God this week. And I asked her if I could share it with you on this Holy Trinity Sunday, because as we talk about the character of God as love and the expression of that love as invitation and the power of that love as the ability to go into the world and proclaim this most holy relationship as the way for salvation, her image of God goes a long way toward inviting you and me into understanding the divine character of God the three-in-one.
          I invite you to close your eyes, open your hearts, and listen to Trina:


           “God is a black woman who is old as time, but gets around like an athletic 38 year-old.  She has a full head of beautiful gray and black dreadlocks that hang just right above her hips; and her skin is more decadently chocolate than any candy bar could ever be. 
Most days, she can be found sitting on the front porch slicing okra for a dish that’s bound to be superbly delicious.  Though we all know she is older than dirt, she sits there like somebody’s baby girl, somebody’s sister,  somebody’s friend, somebody’s momma, somebody’s sexy lover, and somebody’s sweet old grandmamma.  Nobody has any idea all the skills she has and the things she knows. Your best bet is to always have her on your side; not that she chooses sides.
 She smells like flowers, trees, oceans, cakes, and pies and all sorts of delightful and welcoming aromas.  Often she just sits on the porch peeling, slicing, dicing and waiting.  Each time someone passes by, she invites them to come and have a bite to eat.  She’s always so happy to see each and every one of them, like she made them herself. 
Truth is she did. 
She’s always counting on the fact they’ll come in and be fed so that they can go out stronger, wiser, and certain of her love and care.  If they come close enough to the porch, it’s hard for them to refuse the invitation. And when they’ve drifted away, the rich aromas and flavors have a way of wafting into their dreams and stirring their longing for God’s good company. 
God is our loving creator.  She is giving, forgiving, and sustaining.  She only wants the best from all us. She generously gives us the room to be ourselves and do our own thing with the gifts she has proudly planted within us.  She guides us with a gentle hand, but other times she shakes us into recognizing our family members, including the earth and all of creation, all around us.  She has high hopes for us!  She’s counting on us to take care to help one another find our way back home to her front porch. 
What we are required to do and be in this life is not all about work.  And sometimes, it is not all pretty, but she aims to keep all her kin close.  The Dread-locked woman (who is God) wants us to find joy in her good company as well as delight in our own lives.”

Open your eyes.  Did you hear the whispers of the Trinity in that image?  Did you hear the invitation?  God creating, God showing, God empowering…God inviting us into life with God and into relationship with one another…loving one another and serving the world.
The Holy Trinity cannot be explained with human words or understanding.  Fortunately, for pastors and heretics everywhere, that is not our calling.  Our calling is to live the Trinity…the creation, community, and action for the sake of one another…and so to be bound up into the life of God.  God, Three-in-one…plus one[2].  You.
Amen.




[1] http://www.davidlose.net/2015/05/trinity-b-three-in-one-plus-one/
[2] http://www.davidlose.net/2015/05/trinity-b-three-in-one-plus-one/

Friday, April 3, 2015

Good Friday



 

“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.  What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light (was the hope) of all people”

This week my 8 year old daughter Clara has been asking tough questions:  “Did Jesus have a funeral?”  “Did Jesus have a will?”  “If Jesus was God and he wanted to help all of the people, then why was he killed?”

Why indeed. 

Why was he killed?  Simply put, because he threatened the empire.  Jesus was a rabbi and healer, but he was also a social prophet who challenged the domination system in the name of God.  If Jesus had been only a preacher and teacher and healer, it seems unlikely that he would be executed.  After all, the empire needed its oppressed people to have some optimism.  But Jesus was more than those things.  He was also a “God-intoxicated voice of religious social protest who had attracted a following.”[1] 

Jesus was killed because he stood against the kingdoms of this world.  Because he cried out and rallied the people for a different kind of vision of what the world could and should look like.  Because he called for deep abiding love for our neighbors and for strangers and for the helpless and for the unlovable.  He announced the coming of a kingdom where no one person would conquer and dominate anyone else.  A new world grounded in the love of God for all people.  He was killed because he had convinced a whole bunch of other folks that that kind of life was preferable and, more threateningly, possible.  And those folks were ready to work and to fight for that kind of life.

Jesus was killed because he was hope.  Hope that we could do better by one another.  Hope that prostitutes and tax collectors and fishermen and Jews and Greeks could live together in a community that promised safe housing, food enough, and equal voice at the table. 

Hope that people of color would have the same access to care and to rights and to life as whites.  Hope that gay and lesbian and bisexual and transgender people would be served pizza at their weddings if that is their unusual wish…but also that they, too, may walk freely in places like Indiana, Alabama, Mississippi, Syria, Iraq, and many others with the right to life and to safe housing and to job security.  Hope that girls would be allowed to grow into strong women with access to education and health care and the right to decide what happens to their bodies.  Hope that all of us who have and who continue to violate the rights and wellbeing of one another would recognize those violations and stop it.  

His life was hope. 

Jesus was a radical, divisive, political figure.  But that is not all that he is.  His story does not end on the cross.  But on this day, the day of his crucifixion, it is hard to know that.

“It is finished.”

On this Good Friday, there is silence.

Jesus has died and is buried, and we wait.  We wait for something to happen.  But there is nothing.  Only silence. 

Too often we live here in the tomb, in this place between promise and hope.  And it appears that Jesus is dead.  Life is hard.  People suffer in large and small ways.  Finances are tight.  Parents die.  Children murder other children.  Friends move on.  Wars break out.  Terrifying diseases ravage countries and threaten continents.  Marriages crumble.  Hundreds of girls are kidnapped and never returned.  Health fades.  Despair abounds.  Life is hard.  And God is gone.
So we stay here in this lonely place, immobilized by fear or insecurity, acutely aware of promises broken by ourselves and by others and of our own bruised hearts.  Pilate, his guard, and the rest of the oppressive forces in the world seek to keep us there in the darkness, death, stagnation, and suffering of the tomb, but even here in this tomb, even in the darkness, in places we can’t see, God is working. 
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)  But it is a hard thing to stand in the darkness, to witness the silence, and to trust that the struggle is not over.  It is hard to watch and to participate in the devastation in our innermost lives and yet to still believe that God is there.  It is hard.
But we have been given a promise that God will never leave us.  That God will never forsake us.  That even in the stillness and devastation, God is there.
As the silence threatens to consume us and the guard is relentless in our captivity, let us remember who this God is for whom we wait.   This is the one God, this is Jesus the Christ who says, “And remember! I will be with you always, yes, even until the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)

“It is finished.”  But it is not the end.

 “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
Let us stand in the silence, holding on to the promise and leaning toward hope.


[1] Borg and Wright, The Meaning of Jesus.  p 91


Sunday, March 29, 2015

Hosanna! Save me, Jesus!








“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

This Palm Sunday looks for all the world like the pinnacle of the career of Jesus of Nazareth.  This Jewish, son-of-a-carpenter has spent the last three years or so wandering around all of Jerusalem proclaiming the advent of a new kingdom where God will reign and the harsh rule of  the Roman empire will be no more.  He’s gathered quite a following in his short time as preacher and teacher, and the people love and trust him.  They’ve begun to understand that Jesus is the Messiah.  The savior of the people.  But they don’t yet understand exactly what that looks like.  They’re still expecting a great army to rise up and slay all of the Romans.  They’re expecting a miracle.

And they’ll get one, just not the one they’re expecting.

Now it is the time of the Passover feast in Jerusalem and all devout Jews who could possibly travel would be in the city for worship and celebration.  (So there would be an extra-large number of Roman soldiers there, too, to “keep the peace”).

And Caesar sent Pilate to oversee this little town which is positively bursting at the seams with extra people.  Now what the Gospel writer takes for granted here is that we would understand on one side of the city, Pilate is riding up to the city gates on a war horse in a parade of soldiers and a show of military might that sends a specific signal of oppression and a threat of death.  Terry would tell you that, “In the ancient Middle East, if a conquering king rode into town on a war horse that meant that the army was free to loot, take women as wives (or worse) and that men could be killed if soldiers wished.”  So Pilate proudly enters the city astride his warhorse, flanked by squadrons of Roman soldiers, and sending a clear message that Rome is in charge here.  The empire is alive and well. 

At the same time, on the other side of the city, Jesus is riding up to the gates in his own parade surrounded by a desperate people.  These people wave palms, not spears, and Jesus is riding humbly upon the back of a donkey.  That’s right.  “hee haw!” a barnyard animal with no experience out in the battle field.  So what does that mean?  Is it simply a matter of available animal transport?  Not according to Terry.  He would tell us that “a conquering king who rode into town on a donkey sent a very different signal. This meant that the city and its people, while now ruled by the king, would be basically left untouched. It meant the king was now going to begin his rule in peace.”  I wonder how long it took before Pilate heard about the competing parade?[1]

“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Words of praise?  Maybe.  Maybe that was the intention.  But considering the location and desperation of the crowd (think about it, they are publically committing treason by participating in this parade), I wonder if this is less a cry of glorification and more an anxious and demanding cry for liberation.

“Save us!
We’re so glad you’re here, you wonderful man!
Thanks be to God for sending you to help us!
Save us now!”
Writer Anne Lamott says there are three simple prayers to get you through most things.  One is “help me, help me, help me!”  Another is “thank you, thank you, thank you!”  The last is “Wow! Wow! Wow!”
The people walking with Jesus as he rides into Jerusalem are praying the first one:  help us, help us, help us!
As I was reflecting this week on this idea of a plea for help rather than a shout of glory, I read something that really helped me understand my own participation in this story (and maybe this will resonate with you, too): in this country, in this culture, in this time, we don’t seem to turn to God and ask “help us”…we say, “help me”.[2]
And so I think that thousands of years later, nothing would change.  When we encounter Jesus on the road to Jerusalem…on the road to the cross…we are still thinking only about ourselves.  What does it mean for me if Jesus dies again this Holy Week?  What does it mean for me if Jesus doesn’t rise from the dead?  What does it mean for me if he does?  “Save me, Jesus!”
Here’s the Good News:  He already has.
This week, as we walk with Jesus though the worst that humanity has to offer, let us be open to understanding the depths of sacrifice that God has made and continues to make on our behalf, the ways in which God is present in our daily lives…in big ways and in small, in both the joys and the suffering… so that we are able to see the places where we can and should and will be praying “thank you, thank you, thank you”.  And are able from this place of wonder and gratitude to think beyond ourselves and to look toward our neighbor.
And let us trust that on the other side of this Holy-hellacious Week, we will take up the glad shout “wow! wow! wow!”


[1] Borg and Crossan, The Last Week (the first 30 or so pages).  Find it here  http://www.amazon.com/Last-Week-Gospels-Really-Jerusalem/dp/0060872608/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1427631623&sr=1-1&keywords=the+last+week+borg+crossan
[2] http://thelisteninghermit.com/2012/03/26/hosanna-save-us-from-self-interest-palm-sunday-b/