The Stranger Right in Front of You (Easter 3) Luke 24:13-35

Luke 24:13-35

St. Thomas Memorial Church

Easter 3

May 4, 2014

Have any of you ever seen The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon? It’s the show that replaced Jay Leno's. It's very similar to the Late Show with David Letterman, just with a much younger host—a host not much older than me. Anyway, sometimes on Jimmy Fallon he’ll have a segment where a famous athlete, actor, or musician will walk around the streets of NYC with a microphone in hand ready to interview unsuspecting passers-by. Sometimes the famous interviewer assumes a false identity and asks questions about their true self.  Not too long ago, the show featured New York Mets’ pitcher Matt Harvey. He walked the streets asking New Yorkers what they thought about him. Only, he wasn’t wearing his baseball uniform. He was dressed much like any ordinary New Yorker. Because he was not in uniform few, if any, recognized him right away. It was as if he had transformed.  Ordinary and anonymous Matt Harvey asked his interviewees if they thought baseball star Matt Harvey was any good.  Did they think he was getting lucky, did they think he had what it took to become a real star, and lastly, and most importantly… did they think that he was attractive?

Watching the skit makes you and I, the in-the-know audience, laugh. We see some die hard Mets’ fans either gushing or talking smack about a person that is right in front of them; a person they have gone to see in person or have watched on television countless times. Most of them did not recognize him until, as they began to walk away, he revealed his true identity. For some of them what they said about him during the interview was so awkward that he didn’t even bother revealing his true identity. He let them walk away in complete ignorance.

Thinking about this morning’s gospel reading is what made me think of this skit.  In the reading, Jesus comes up to two of his followers, Cleopas and his friend, and they do not recognize him. Why? We are not told. They are on a walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus. A long walk, about seven miles in distance, so there was a lot of time to talk.  What were they talking about? Their dashed hopes about Jesus, of course. While they were walking, Jesus overhears their conversation and asks, “What are you two talking about?” Jesus, the one whom they loved and followed--upon whom their hopes were placed--was right in front of them and they did not recognize him.

Losing Heart (Holy Wednesday)

Holy Wednesday

Have any of you ever had a mentor whom you long looked up to suddenly grow weary and lose heart?  Maybe you were invested in a cause earlier in life when someone praiseworthy who was heavily involved with it became disillusioned.  Shortly after, you found that your own fire died. No more all-night conversations, no more lobbying, no more passion. To your surprise, your faith in the cause was inextricably bound with the faith of this other person whom you admired.  When he or she lost hope, you came tumbling after.  

Or maybe you’re someone who’s seen those around you grow weary and lose heart, and still you remain. Maybe you’ve weathered these storms and have stayed the course. You’ve continued to run with perseverance, laying aside these weights and pains. You’ve witnessed these disappointments and yet continue to fight the good fight.

I once heard an interview with Bono--the lead singer of U2--about the meaning of his song, “Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own." He said that his father was a man of great faith in Christ until he reached the very end of his life. On his deathbed his faith began to waver. He began to question the basics that he had believed in and lived by so firmly for his whole life. Listening to the interview you could tell that Bono was somewhat shaken by this. You could tell that despite Bono’s firm faith--and he continues to say that it’s quite firm--he was rattled. Whether it be faith in an idea, a cause, or in Christ, watching someone you deeply admire lose heart and grow weary can be crippling.

The author of this evening’s epistle lesson from the letter to the Hebrews is aware of some in the early Christian movement who had lost heart and grown weary.  He writes to people who have given up all kinds of things to follow the risen Jesus. People who were not very popular.  People who had gotten behind a cause--no, a person--that I’m sure many of their friends thought was crazy.  Some of these people were tempted to give in, to throw in the towel.  Maybe they were tempted by the lusts of this world, maybe what had seemed so true at first just didn’t any longer, maybe they simply burned out.  Their once true and lively faith had gotten away from them.  

The Gospel is for Christians Too (Lent 3) Romans 5:1-11

Romans 5:1-11

St. Thomas Memorial Church

Lent III

March 23, 2014

The Gospel is for Christians too... I am not going to preach on this morning’s ‘world’s longest’ gospel lesson. (Yes, it is the longest gospel reading of the year, and you made it through it. It’s all down stream from here.) I have to sometimes remind myself not to preach from the gospels every week so that we’ll all be exposed to the other rich sections of the Scriptures. The gospel lesson is often made up of narrative and so sometimes a bit easier to preach on than the ‘long, complicated’ arguments of Paul.  But we can’t ignore Paul, for as I’ve said before, Paul often times makes explicit what the gospel narratives leave implicit.  In Paul we find the radical gospel--one of his major themes--that Christ is in the business of ‘justifying the ungodly’. Or, to use less churchy parlance, Christ came to rescue suffering sinners like me and you.

This passage from Romans is one of my favorite passages of Scripture--maybe my favorite.  It is this very passage that makes clear that ‘while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.’ This is the announcement of God’s one-way love for rebellious persons like you and me; this is the good news.  

The church that I grew up in used to proclaim something like this message very well to unbelievers.  The church had a thriving biker ministry.  Now if any of you here are bikers don’t think that I lump all of you into one category, but the bikers that came to our church were the bad kind of bikers. The bikers who did cocaine and heroin and who were violent.  Some had wild stories about being at the end of their rope with a needle in their arm.  These people heard about the forgiveness of sins and the offer for a new life at just the right moment, and everything changed. They had a conversion experience.  They found that Christ was interested in failures and burnouts--the ungodly--and they wanted in. The good news really was good for these folks.  

Me, on the other hand, I grew up in the church. My mom was the one who converted from Judaism. I don’t remember ever not being a Christian. I’ve been in church for forever--I could have been birthed there for all I know.  I grew up with regular ‘altar calls', and sermons that seemed to always end with ‘Go, and make disciples of all nations.’ A good and necessary imperative, but after years of the same thing it got old.

'You Got the Power to Let Power Go?' (Christ the King Sunday) Luke 23:33-43

'You Got the Power to Let Power Go?'

Luke 23:33-43

Church of the Nativity

Christ the King Sunday (Last Sunday of Pentecost)

November 24, 2013

I think a helpful way to unpack Christ the King Sunday is to talk about a scene from the movie Schindler’s List.  Have you all seen it?  Well, whether you have or not, there is a scene in the film where Oskar Schindler--the German Gentile who was so instrumental in saving countless German Jews during Hitler’s awful reign--is talking about power with an an SS officer.  You see the SS officer had been brutally murdering countless Jews--showing no mercy at all--in order to demonstrate to them and his fellow soldiers that he was powerful.  Schindler--a reputable and powerful businessman--tells the barbaric and power-hungry--yet ultimately insecure--official that real power “is when we have every justification to kill, and we don’t… A man steals something, he’s brought in before the Emperor, he throws himself down on the ground. He begs for his life, he knows he’s going to die. And the Emperor… pardons him. This worthless man, [the Emperor] lets him go… That’s power. That is power.”  

The similarities between Schindler’s advice to the SS officer and what happens in this morning’s Gospel lesson are very interesting.  For in Luke 23 we have something of a parallel story.  We have that famous scene where Jesus cries out on behalf of his murderers, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they are doing.”  We have a king, albeit not in a traditional position of power, granting pardon to the worthless--those who reject, mock, and murder an innocent.  Like the insecure, power-seeking SS officer who later does indeed take Schindler’s advice, Jesus essentially says to the truly worthless, “I pardon you.”  

Don’t forget that he does this after he has been tried and scourged.  His own people have borne false witness against him, and the religious leaders have identified him as a seditious blasphemer.  It is also important to note that only the worst criminals were crucified on the place called Skull.  And here he is, the religious leaders and government authorities conspiring together to have him killed in the most inhumane of ways--naked on a cross of wood.

I Believe in the Resurrection (Luke 21:5-19, 20-28)

I Believe in the Resurrection

Luke 21:5-19 (20-28)

St. Thomas' Memorial Church

November 17, 2013

By now you’ve all heard of the devastation that Typhoon Yolanda unleashed on the Philippines a little more than a week ago.  A storm that some have called the worst in recorded history, where 10,000 are feared to be dead and over 100,000 displaced.  Maybe you’ve seen some of the images and videos of entire cities flattened, of families separated, of corpses piled by the roadside.  It’s hard to imagine what must be going through the minds of those living in the cities affected.  Shock, fear, despair?  Because I am so far removed from it and am going about my everyday life just the same, it’s hard for me to internalize it.  It’s hard for me to realize that not only have hopes and dreams been shattered, but--more basic, more fundamental--livelihoods have become undone.  Great buildings, great cities, strong towers have--unthinkably--been brought low.  Families and friends are separated, possibly never to be reunited.

This morning’s Gospel lesson from Luke describes a similar story.  It opens with Jesus and his disciples in Jerusalem at the Temple.  He’s been teaching here for over a chapter.  All of his previous arguments and rhetorical traps have been set in the Temple; these detailed discussions of the most Jewish of issues have been conducted in that most Jewish of places, the place one could encounter God in a special way.  A few verses earlier, a faithful woman, both widowed and impoverished, threw her whole life into the Temple treasury and Jesus was impressed.

And now this morning’s Gospel lesson tells us that some of the people with Jesus look up and speak in awe of the beauty of the Temple, the center of the Jewish world.  And rightly so, for the the Temple was stunning.  The Temple was huge.  The outer court of the Temple could hold 400,000 people, and at festival times it held crowds nearly that large.  The Temple was overwhelming as is fitting to the building that honors the God who alone is God.  

Count the Cost (The Cross is Too Heavy) Luke 14:25-33

Count the Cost (The Cross is too Heavy)

Luke 14:25-33

St. Thomas Memorial Episcopal Church

September 8, 2013

What does our Gospel lesson mean?  “Hate your mother and father, your wife and children, your sisters and brothers.” I took a bus home this weekend to be with my family for the funeral of my grandmother. I got to see my mother and father, my brother, my aunts and uncles, my cousins.  My own flesh and blood.  The people closest to me in the world.  The only people in this dog-eat-dog world who will have my back no matter what.  And the text I’m supposed to preach on when I get back says that if I want to be Jesus’ disciple I must hate each and every one of them.  

I didn’t admit it to myself until a few days ago, but I’m offended by this text.  Why would the “Prince of Peace,” the one who “so loves the world” talk this way?  This is a shocking passage.  If it doesn't scandalize you--if it doesn't offend you--then you aren’t reading it correctly.  It goes against the core values of this and every generation.  It’s meant to be in your face.  It’s meant to be offensive.

Fleming Rutledge on Wrath

In light of the hullabaloo over the PCUSA's decision to reject the contemporary hymn/praise song "In Christ Alone," I give you Fleming Rutledge's reflection on the Wrath of God.

*Note: when Rutledge says (capital-S) Sin she is not talking about individual (lower-case-s) sins. She's speaking of the power of Sin and Death that is in opposition to God.

"God's Wrath is against Sin, not against us.  We experience the Wrath of God in the form of all the terrible things that happen, but if we listen carefully to Paul's story, we learn that this Wrath is not God's bad temper, as if he were an irritable parent prone to rages, but his implacable opposition to the evil Power that holds his creatures in bondage.  God's enmity toward Sin is not capricious or malign.  It is the face of God turned steadily and with unshakable purpose toward the Enemy of his creation.  Thus it is possible for us to acknowledge our own identity as sinful creatures and yet, at the same time, rejoice to know that God is on our side against our common Foe."

Fleming Rutledge in Not Ashamed of the Gospel, "But Now..." 72, 73.

Update: For a more complete view of her understanding of the Wrath of God, check out: http://www.generousorthodoxy.org/sermons/unfair-treatment.aspx