I am sure we all have had a similar proper meal training as children: Sit up straight! Elbows off the table! Napkin in your lap! Wait until your mother begins to eat before you start! Do not talk with your mouth full! The Germans in their Teutonic specificity have two different words for eating: one for humans (“essen”) and one for animals (“fressen”) If your eating habits are characterized by the latter, you are in big trouble or the target of a supreme insult!
The rituals associated with eating begin early in a child’s life and grow more complex with our journey toward maturity. In every culture these rituals are one of the ways the “in” group holds itself apart from the “out” group. Those who are like “us” eat the same foods the same way we do. This true for many in mid-America throughout their lives and we who live in a large cosmopolitan area are indeed blessed to experience the diversity of cultures expressed in the variety of cuisines available to us.
Though we can embrace the mystery of our differences when it comes to food, at the time of Our Lord, dietary laws were a very serious matter for most Jews. Many struggled to hold on to their identity after the Temple was destroyed and even after it was rebuilt, identity was important in a world dominated by strong hellenizing and Romanizing pagan influences. In today’s Gospel reading the Pharisees noticed that Jesus’ disciples had not performed the precisely correct ritual cleansing before they eat: they had broken with tradition.
Our Lord encounters their slavish adherence to traditions with a holier-than-thou attitude by quoting the prophet Isaiah: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…” In other words, Jesus warns the Pharisees to concern themselves with God’s rules rather than the rules of humans. He says that spiritual defilement starts on the inside; it arises from the heart. The word “heart” is a metaphor for the total person, one’s whole being. For those who are ritual specialists the focus is on the external; neglecting a dynamic, creative, life-sustaining relationship with the living God. The more they focus on outward actions, the less attention they give to inner attitudes… they focus on the rules but neglect a relationship with the living God.
Now rules and traditions are not bad in themselves and no one respects rules and traditions more than me! Traditions are fine, well, and good when they arise from a deep faith and point us and others to God – Our Lord does not advocate dropping traditions, per se. However when we allow traditions to prevent us from following God’s will they become idolatrous. When Jesus challenges the Pharisees to follow the spirit of the law, rather than the letter of the law.
A few years ago I was asked by a parishioner at my former parish in Hollywood, who was a member of the Board of Governors of HRC to be a guest on a panel at the University of Redlands speaking in favor of same sex marriage legislation. I began my remarks by clearly stating that I viewed this as a civil rights issue and I did not intend to address the matter from a theological or scriptural perspective within the scope of that forum. Nevertheless, at the close of the evening’s agenda, before I could even dismount the stage, up from the rear of the room came a group of students tightly gripping their Bibles and I knew they were headed right for me!
Sure enough they were Campus Crusade for Christ and I was in their sights as an apostate evil Christian Priest and they had Scripture quotations to defend their stance. But in their brain-washed arguments they did not anticipate that I could counter them with just as many examples and I rebutted them with questions like our Lord often did with the Pharisees until they could not answer.It was a valuable experience for me to make that trek to the inland empire only a couple of hours’ drive from the West Side of LA and see first-hand a mind-set so foreign to what I experienced in my part of town.I realized that I probably did not convince those campus crusaders, although I pray that just maybe I caused at least one of them to recognize that there is another law than the one they had been spoon-fed – a law of equality and love and decency. But I also sadly realized once again that there is a whole lot of anger and hate guised in the name of our compassionate and loving Savior.
Christian devotion is meant to help gain and maintain a new heart, a heart that is alive not dead, a heart that is compassionate not selfish, a heart that is large not small, a heart that is hospitable not judgmental. Christian devotion in all its forms is all about softening the heart, preventing it from becoming hard, keeping it tender. Other controversies than dietary laws today divide Christians and our own Anglican Communion. Each area of contention represents deeply held convictions about how we are to live and when they are challenged we get scared. And it is fear ultimately that fuels a phariseeism of the heart. Pure religion has to do with caring for others in distress, not stressing over pure religious practices. In our Epistle for today St. James admonishes us to be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.
The trouble for the Pharisees was that their scrupulosity about observing the law led them to depend, not upon God’s graciousness, but upon their own ability to channel their lives into certain predictable routines setting themselves apart as better than other people. Now if we’re honest we can admit that no matter how hard we try, we can’t always get it perfectly right every time. In despair we may seek consolation by comparing ourselves to others and end up with a dull and formal religion in which we become like Anthony Trollope’s Miss Thorne, whose “virtues were too numerous to describe, and not sufficiently interesting to deserve description.”
So what then makes a person good enough for God? What makes us good enough for God is the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ. It is His broken body and shed blood: that bread and that cup we share today that brings us closer to God. And the traditions of humans, even those of good intention, insofar as they become the basis for judging others, are of no account. As much as we honor our scriptures and traditions, they do not serve us well when we make them the basis of judging who it is God loves and who is acceptable to Him. In today’s Gospel lesson and throughout His ministry, Jesus denounces hypocrisy of the self-righteous and clearly reminds us that the outward forms of holiness are meaningless if we do not have the basics in our hearts: the basics that call us to do justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.
Amen.
Greetings from your Discernment Committee Chair!
The interviews will be held over the next several weeks. Then, the Committee will meet again to decide which candidates will be visited in their parishes. Members of the Committee will go in groups to visit the candidate’s parish and attend a service. After these visits, the Committee will meet to decide which names will be presented to the vestry. Our Committee is completely aware of the amazing responsibility with which we have been entrusted. Please continue to keep the Committee, as well as the candidates, in your prayers as we search of the next rector of this great church.
August 19, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart
As children growing up, my sister and I were carefully taught proper manners from our mother. Since we were “PK’s” (“preacher’s kids”) we were expected to act politely and properly at all times, but especially when our family was a guest in parishioners’ homes. One of the important rules I remember was, “When served food, you should never ask, ‘What is that?’” Mother’s admonition has stayed with me lo these many years and I have attempted to resist asking that question at many a church potluck.
In the 6th chapter of St. John’s Gospel Jesus alludes to the Israelites in the wilderness after their Exodus from bondage in Egypt. As they proceed on their journey, the people despair over the wilderness and long for the plenty of their former life in Egypt, albeit one of slavery. They search three days for drinkable water, only to find a bitter spring. They travel further and still cannot find food.
They are beginning to despair that God’s promise of a wonderful new land will never come to fruition. Eventually the Lord provides them with an unidentified strange substance they find stuck to the ground in the morning. Predictably, they break the politeness rule my mother taught and ask, “What is it?”
As we were informed by our guest preacher last week, the substance called manna can be translated as “What is it?” Manna was sufficient for the people’s nourishment but it was not, however, sufficient food for eternal life. It was food, period. Jesus contrasts manna with another kind of food, the bread of life. It is human nature to know what food we’re being served, so may well want to ask the question of Jesus: What is this “bread of life” that “came down from heaven”?
We correctly interpret these words eucharistically, but can also think about the broader meanings. The word bread can also stand for sustenance; in the Lord’s Prayer, our daily bread generally means “what we need for life.” Flesh and Blood can also mean a vital, biological, actual life. So, Jesus’ bread of life is his own life, his own vitality. He gives us his life freely and with it access to God, forgiveness of our sins, and eternal life. We as Christians share our life with Christ more deeply than we share it with anyone else.
What does it mean to “live”? We may think on a physical level at least, that is a relatively straight forward question to answer. However, the definitions have become more problematic, rather than clearer with scientific and medical advances.
Death used to be defined as when one’s heart stopped or breathing ceased, but we know now it is a longer gradual process. We are all-too familiar with the wrangling political debates about when life begins, as well. Equally problematic is whether people with advanced Alzheimer’s disease, persons in deep comas, and those who cannot exist without life support machines are really living.
But, of course, that is only the physical side of living. What about lives filled with so much hurt, unsolved dilemmas, heartaches, disappointments, addictions, troubles, anxieties, and terrors? What does it really mean to “live” and to “have life”? We are here today because this fellow Jesus said, “I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly.” Yet still we sometimes struggle with being truly satisfied by Jesus’ life-giving bread and we confuse being satisfied with the “comfort food” of manna. But Christ’s bread is our constant benefactor giving us a deep sustenance and hope in difficult situations.
Have you ever experienced a particular challenge that may bring despair only to find a solution you had never thought would come, or find that lovely wonderful people come into your life at such a time, or discover a sense of peace you never thought you could ever experience? I certainly have in some dark times in my own life – that is God’s grace. I open myself to that grace when I continually make Christ present in my life, by being open spiritually even when I am not sure where He might lead me and importantly receiving Him physically in the Sacrament of Holy Communion. Perhaps the reason the Israelites in the early stage of their journey had difficulty in trusting God, despite the impressive miracles the Lord had provided them; was that the people had not lived into a long term relationship with God that makes for deeper trust.
Jesus could well have said, “You are what you eat.” He was saying in essence that if you don’t take into yourselves that which is Christ, you will have no real life and you will become malnourished and die spiritually. In our practice of Christianity we place great value on receiving Holy Communion, in fact that is the central purpose of our gathering faith community every week around the Lord’s Table. We cherish this outward and visible sign of a profound inward spiritual truth. Through the common substances of bread and wine and the everyday experience of eating together, and through the power of God and our commitment and faith, we can become what we eat. The living bread that sustains us should always be our quest: Jesus, whose life and deeds show us the way; Jesus whose flesh and blood instill new life within us; Jesus who lives in us that we might live forever.
We are reminded of that so well in our opening collect for this Sunday, “Give us grace to receive thankfully the fruits of his redeeming work and to follow in the blessed steps of his most holy life.”
Amen.
Hot Coffee / Cool Jazz - August 11, 7pm
Date: August 11th Saturday
Time: 7-9pm
Place: Episcopal Church of the Messiah
614 N Bush Street, Santa Ana
Cost: FREE
The 10th Street Jazz Quartet will be performing two sets of classic straight ahead jazz in the patio of the Episcopal Church. This outdoor event includes free coffee, soft drink, snacks and desserts, and is a nice way to spend a relaxing evening with friends.
Also, tour the Messiah's historical chapel which is one of the last surviving examples of Country Gothic architecture.
OPEN to the public.....
July 29, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart
Through these times in which we live it seems the pace of life escalates. Multiple responsibilities and conflicting schedules frazzle many of us much of the time. An economy in recession effects each and every one of us daily. Stress, stress, stress; contemporary life runs thick with stress. Imagine, then, the stress Jesus’ disciples endured as they rode out the nighttime storm on the sea?!
Although we know today of all the geographical and meteorological particularities of the Sea of Galilee, people of Jesus’ day lacked scientific understanding to explain the rather nasty storms and squalls still common there today. They explained their cosmos through a myriad of spirits, some benevolent, some malevolent and they believed that bodies of water were especially prone to evil forces. No wonder the disciples were beside themselves in their 26-foot boat on the tossing dark sea with their beloved Master left on the shore! It is a story about us, as well!
In oh so many ways, we are like a boat at night in a storm- tossed sea, both in our personal lives and in the life of the Church today. Nighttime is the occasion when fear steals into our homes and finds us most vulnerable. Some small concern, scarcely noticed in the daylight hours, takes on monstrous proportions in that still, quiet time before dawn… A letter too long neglected; grief over a lost loved one; a telephone call left unanswered; a careless word or action that may have hurt a loved one or friend, or perhaps by them may have hurt us.
Fear and anxiety do not confine themselves to that hour of the night, of course. In fact, they control much of what we do. Fear about financial security motivates career choices for many, or constricts our relations to the needs of others. Fear for our relationships moves some of us to cling and others to flee. Fear that our efforts will amount to nothing produces an obsession that robs vocation of its pleasure. Fear that our material security is not as secure as we would like restricts the joy of generosity.
St. John’s story of Jesus walking on the water is, first and foremost, a story about Jesus and His recognized identity. Yet in the process we are also told a story about human fear. Fear characterizes the atmosphere of the whole story. The disciples are separated from Jesus and their boat is seriously threatened by a storm. Knowing the sea’s treachery, we fear for them. Despite Jesus’ acts of healing, and the feeding of the 5,000 in the preceding scene, the disciples can only assume that the figure who walks toward them is a ghost and they react with terror.
St. Matthew’s version of this event adds another scene to the story. The ever-precocious Peter cries out to Jesus to prove that it is He by commanding him to come to Him on the water. He becomes frightened and sure enough down he goes, crying “save me!” Peter took his eyes off Jesus and his faith off Him as well and he began to sink. Thus it is with us so often. Rather than focusing on the eyes of Jesus, on the face of Jesus, on the presence of Jesus; we focus instead on the storm which is raging in our lives and we start to sink. In the middle of the nastiest storms of life (and the storms of life can be so very nasty); it is essential to keep our focus on Jesus Christ and the strength and power of God, rather than on the turbulent tempest. At the core is Jesus’ statement: “Take heart, it is I, have no fear.”
We are perpetually afraid of the next chapter in our lives. We fear the dark storms of life: the report from the doctor, a relocation from our home we have known for years, the loss of a job, the break-up of a relationship, and death – death of one we hold so dear and of ourselves. The list of our storms in life goes on and on and into those storms miraculously walks Jesus to take our hand as we feel ourselves losing faith and sinking…”Take heart, it is I, have no fear.”
Yet we still are anxious in the dark. Fear happens. People we love die. Storms beset us. As we feel ourselves sinking like Peter reaching out for the saving hand of Jesus, He grasps us oh so tightly while scolding us like Peter, “Oh you of little faith!” Will Peter fear again? We know the answer to that. But as surely as he fears, he knows whose name to call and whose hand will catch him.
Through over three decades of ordained ministry my experience with congregations, church agency boards, and vestries has brought me to the observation that many tend to operate out of scarcity rather than abundance, plagued by fear and doubt. We don’t do that here at Messiah Parish as we set goals of ministry in this place and anticipate an exciting new era with calling a new rector rather than scramble to close a gap in a budget.
Time and time again, when we step out with the conviction of faith, Jesus reaches out His hand and a miracle occurs. When we live with an attitude of scarcity, fear threatens to turn us in on ourselves. Yet God provides resources, reminds us to focus on the presence of His Son, and declares that we are not left adrift in the storm if we but have faith. The variety of faith granted human beings does not banish fear. No amount of moralizing or pleading will make it so. Faith does, however, teach us whose name to call and who waits to calm us, for faith knows who is powerful over the deep of our fears as over the deep of the waters.
Amen.
Although we know today of all the geographical and meteorological particularities of the Sea of Galilee, people of Jesus’ day lacked scientific understanding to explain the rather nasty storms and squalls still common there today. They explained their cosmos through a myriad of spirits, some benevolent, some malevolent and they believed that bodies of water were especially prone to evil forces. No wonder the disciples were beside themselves in their 26-foot boat on the tossing dark sea with their beloved Master left on the shore! It is a story about us, as well!
In oh so many ways, we are like a boat at night in a storm- tossed sea, both in our personal lives and in the life of the Church today. Nighttime is the occasion when fear steals into our homes and finds us most vulnerable. Some small concern, scarcely noticed in the daylight hours, takes on monstrous proportions in that still, quiet time before dawn… A letter too long neglected; grief over a lost loved one; a telephone call left unanswered; a careless word or action that may have hurt a loved one or friend, or perhaps by them may have hurt us.
Fear and anxiety do not confine themselves to that hour of the night, of course. In fact, they control much of what we do. Fear about financial security motivates career choices for many, or constricts our relations to the needs of others. Fear for our relationships moves some of us to cling and others to flee. Fear that our efforts will amount to nothing produces an obsession that robs vocation of its pleasure. Fear that our material security is not as secure as we would like restricts the joy of generosity.
St. John’s story of Jesus walking on the water is, first and foremost, a story about Jesus and His recognized identity. Yet in the process we are also told a story about human fear. Fear characterizes the atmosphere of the whole story. The disciples are separated from Jesus and their boat is seriously threatened by a storm. Knowing the sea’s treachery, we fear for them. Despite Jesus’ acts of healing, and the feeding of the 5,000 in the preceding scene, the disciples can only assume that the figure who walks toward them is a ghost and they react with terror.
St. Matthew’s version of this event adds another scene to the story. The ever-precocious Peter cries out to Jesus to prove that it is He by commanding him to come to Him on the water. He becomes frightened and sure enough down he goes, crying “save me!” Peter took his eyes off Jesus and his faith off Him as well and he began to sink. Thus it is with us so often. Rather than focusing on the eyes of Jesus, on the face of Jesus, on the presence of Jesus; we focus instead on the storm which is raging in our lives and we start to sink. In the middle of the nastiest storms of life (and the storms of life can be so very nasty); it is essential to keep our focus on Jesus Christ and the strength and power of God, rather than on the turbulent tempest. At the core is Jesus’ statement: “Take heart, it is I, have no fear.”
We are perpetually afraid of the next chapter in our lives. We fear the dark storms of life: the report from the doctor, a relocation from our home we have known for years, the loss of a job, the break-up of a relationship, and death – death of one we hold so dear and of ourselves. The list of our storms in life goes on and on and into those storms miraculously walks Jesus to take our hand as we feel ourselves losing faith and sinking…”Take heart, it is I, have no fear.”
Yet we still are anxious in the dark. Fear happens. People we love die. Storms beset us. As we feel ourselves sinking like Peter reaching out for the saving hand of Jesus, He grasps us oh so tightly while scolding us like Peter, “Oh you of little faith!” Will Peter fear again? We know the answer to that. But as surely as he fears, he knows whose name to call and whose hand will catch him.
Through over three decades of ordained ministry my experience with congregations, church agency boards, and vestries has brought me to the observation that many tend to operate out of scarcity rather than abundance, plagued by fear and doubt. We don’t do that here at Messiah Parish as we set goals of ministry in this place and anticipate an exciting new era with calling a new rector rather than scramble to close a gap in a budget.
Time and time again, when we step out with the conviction of faith, Jesus reaches out His hand and a miracle occurs. When we live with an attitude of scarcity, fear threatens to turn us in on ourselves. Yet God provides resources, reminds us to focus on the presence of His Son, and declares that we are not left adrift in the storm if we but have faith. The variety of faith granted human beings does not banish fear. No amount of moralizing or pleading will make it so. Faith does, however, teach us whose name to call and who waits to calm us, for faith knows who is powerful over the deep of our fears as over the deep of the waters.
Amen.
July 22, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart
I normally finish composing my sermon for Sunday by the end of the prior week. As I was just putting the finishing touches on a nice little homily on today’s Gospel reading with a couple of funny jokes I thought you might like, I heard there had been some sort of shooting in Colorado. By the time I watched the evening news which revealed the extent of the horror and carnage, I knew I could not preach the sermon I had prepared and, so set it aside.
Unfortunately, in my years in the ministry I have had the difficulty of having to address some sad and tragic events from the pulpit. I think people know that in seminary we are not given a box with all the answers to life’s most difficult questions and dilemmas which we can magically open up and dispense the answers to questioning parishioners. Still, people look us and expect us to address these tragedies from a Christian viewpoint. Thus, I have had to make an attempt with some terrible events: the Columbine High shootings; the Oklahoma Federal Building bombing, the Virginia Tech shootings; the earthquake in Haiti; the tsunami in southeast Asia; Hurricane Katrina; and of course the events of 9/11. The unfortunate fact of our human condition is that these things sadly happen and we struggle with “why.”
That is a question that has been asked many times before in the 2,000 years since Our Lord came among us. In the 13th Chapter of St. Luke's Gospel we hear this story:
"There were some who told Jesus of the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And he answered them, 'Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all Galileans, because they suffered thus? Or those eighteen upon whom the tower of Siloam fell and killed them, do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, No…'"
Then as now, a common simplistic explanation to life's occurrences is that a loving God rewards good people and punishes bad ones. Therefore, the people who were violently put to death worshipping at the Temple by the Roman authority (Pontius Pilate, interestingly enough) must have had it coming. Jesus emphatically rejects that notion and adds to it another current event of his day. He asks if the eighteen who were killed by the tower falling on them were the worst sinners in Jerusalem.
The questions remain: are my sufferings the result of my sin? Or, does God send suffering as a test of faith? This view sees tragedy as a curve ball pitched to us by God either to see how we will hold up or else as our just deserts. These are unacceptable answers for Jesus. He clearly rejects the connection between our own sins and the bad things that happen in life. Jesus opens up the possibility that bad things happen to good people. In Matthew 5:45 Jesus tells his disciples that our God "makes the sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust."
Why do bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people? Why isn't life fair? Sometimes we take our free will and make bad choices that hurt ourselves or others. If I put my hand in the fire I will get burned. That's the way the world works; actions have consequences. It is the result of my bad decision, not God punishing me. God gave us free will and, likewise the natural world. What if I put my hand into the fire and did not get burned? In a world like that someone could go out and get drunk and drive their car quite confident that God would protect them behind the wheel. In a world where God makes everything we do work out fine, no matter what choices we make, removing all the consequences of our actions; then our choices would not be real choices and no matter what we did everything would work out just the same. That is not free will. I shall resist addressing here the flagrant availability of firearms in America or the rise in spectator violence promoted by Hollywood today, but you can draw your own conclusions regarding the effects of these on the recent tragedy in Colorado and on our society as a whole.
Much more troublesome are the so-called "acts of God." But sometimes even their effects may have some complicity on our part. If I decide to go walking in an open field in the middle of an electrical storm and get struck by lightening, it may not be entirely fair to place all the blame on God. Or, if I choose to build my house in a known flood plane on the Missouri River or on a Florida beach and it's washed away, or hit by a hurricane; I better rethink whether that was a good location to choose.
However, one cannot explain away all the suffering in the world and there are many tragic things that cannot be explained at all. Where is God when we suffer through no consequence of our actions?
Our with-us God came and lived among us in the person of Jesus of Nazareth: it was then and remains God's boldest experiment. If you are in a quandary of dismay over why bad things happen in life, then maybe you haven't been paying attention to the story; or else you've missed the point. Our blessed Lord suffered the most shameful torture and death yet could have come down off the cross and been carried by the angels to heaven. But God humbled Himself to become human and did not change the rules of the world, even taking on the worst the world had to offer.
So, the victims of Pilate's massacre and the people on whom the tower of Siloam fell can be redeeming as we struggle with trying to understand those events. Jesus says that suffering binds us together in our common humanity…one shared by God through Him and Jesus invites us to come into the very heart of God. That is why He ministered to so many people unfairly suffering. Through all the circumstances of life God is there. God gave us and the natural world free will and so introduced the possibility of suffering in this world. God entered our world, with all its joys and sorrows and suffered as one of us, not just to see how humans live, but to show us how much God cares.
In the unfair, uncertain world we live in, we are called to stay fixed on the certainty of God. Because it's our redemption through the cross that gives us the courage to place our sufferings and the sufferings of others on the broad shoulders of Jesus as he hangs on that cross, taking all the redemptive suffering of the world upon himself, offering it to God. Over the long sweep of human history there have been millions of us who have believed and continue to believe that there is a God who never lets us go. He is a God who doesn't just shares his power but insists that we discover our own power in all the tangled joys and tragedies of life.
He is a God who takes the leftover bits and pieces of our shattered hopes and broken dreams, our heartaches, doubts and disappointments and dares to look at them through our tears – tears that create a prism through which all the colors of life can be seen.
Amen.
Unfortunately, in my years in the ministry I have had the difficulty of having to address some sad and tragic events from the pulpit. I think people know that in seminary we are not given a box with all the answers to life’s most difficult questions and dilemmas which we can magically open up and dispense the answers to questioning parishioners. Still, people look us and expect us to address these tragedies from a Christian viewpoint. Thus, I have had to make an attempt with some terrible events: the Columbine High shootings; the Oklahoma Federal Building bombing, the Virginia Tech shootings; the earthquake in Haiti; the tsunami in southeast Asia; Hurricane Katrina; and of course the events of 9/11. The unfortunate fact of our human condition is that these things sadly happen and we struggle with “why.”
That is a question that has been asked many times before in the 2,000 years since Our Lord came among us. In the 13th Chapter of St. Luke's Gospel we hear this story:
"There were some who told Jesus of the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. And he answered them, 'Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all Galileans, because they suffered thus? Or those eighteen upon whom the tower of Siloam fell and killed them, do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who dwelt in Jerusalem? I tell you, No…'"
Then as now, a common simplistic explanation to life's occurrences is that a loving God rewards good people and punishes bad ones. Therefore, the people who were violently put to death worshipping at the Temple by the Roman authority (Pontius Pilate, interestingly enough) must have had it coming. Jesus emphatically rejects that notion and adds to it another current event of his day. He asks if the eighteen who were killed by the tower falling on them were the worst sinners in Jerusalem.
The questions remain: are my sufferings the result of my sin? Or, does God send suffering as a test of faith? This view sees tragedy as a curve ball pitched to us by God either to see how we will hold up or else as our just deserts. These are unacceptable answers for Jesus. He clearly rejects the connection between our own sins and the bad things that happen in life. Jesus opens up the possibility that bad things happen to good people. In Matthew 5:45 Jesus tells his disciples that our God "makes the sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust."
Why do bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people? Why isn't life fair? Sometimes we take our free will and make bad choices that hurt ourselves or others. If I put my hand in the fire I will get burned. That's the way the world works; actions have consequences. It is the result of my bad decision, not God punishing me. God gave us free will and, likewise the natural world. What if I put my hand into the fire and did not get burned? In a world like that someone could go out and get drunk and drive their car quite confident that God would protect them behind the wheel. In a world where God makes everything we do work out fine, no matter what choices we make, removing all the consequences of our actions; then our choices would not be real choices and no matter what we did everything would work out just the same. That is not free will. I shall resist addressing here the flagrant availability of firearms in America or the rise in spectator violence promoted by Hollywood today, but you can draw your own conclusions regarding the effects of these on the recent tragedy in Colorado and on our society as a whole.
Much more troublesome are the so-called "acts of God." But sometimes even their effects may have some complicity on our part. If I decide to go walking in an open field in the middle of an electrical storm and get struck by lightening, it may not be entirely fair to place all the blame on God. Or, if I choose to build my house in a known flood plane on the Missouri River or on a Florida beach and it's washed away, or hit by a hurricane; I better rethink whether that was a good location to choose.
However, one cannot explain away all the suffering in the world and there are many tragic things that cannot be explained at all. Where is God when we suffer through no consequence of our actions?
Our with-us God came and lived among us in the person of Jesus of Nazareth: it was then and remains God's boldest experiment. If you are in a quandary of dismay over why bad things happen in life, then maybe you haven't been paying attention to the story; or else you've missed the point. Our blessed Lord suffered the most shameful torture and death yet could have come down off the cross and been carried by the angels to heaven. But God humbled Himself to become human and did not change the rules of the world, even taking on the worst the world had to offer.
So, the victims of Pilate's massacre and the people on whom the tower of Siloam fell can be redeeming as we struggle with trying to understand those events. Jesus says that suffering binds us together in our common humanity…one shared by God through Him and Jesus invites us to come into the very heart of God. That is why He ministered to so many people unfairly suffering. Through all the circumstances of life God is there. God gave us and the natural world free will and so introduced the possibility of suffering in this world. God entered our world, with all its joys and sorrows and suffered as one of us, not just to see how humans live, but to show us how much God cares.
In the unfair, uncertain world we live in, we are called to stay fixed on the certainty of God. Because it's our redemption through the cross that gives us the courage to place our sufferings and the sufferings of others on the broad shoulders of Jesus as he hangs on that cross, taking all the redemptive suffering of the world upon himself, offering it to God. Over the long sweep of human history there have been millions of us who have believed and continue to believe that there is a God who never lets us go. He is a God who doesn't just shares his power but insists that we discover our own power in all the tangled joys and tragedies of life.
He is a God who takes the leftover bits and pieces of our shattered hopes and broken dreams, our heartaches, doubts and disappointments and dares to look at them through our tears – tears that create a prism through which all the colors of life can be seen.
Amen.
July 8, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart
“And Jesus said to them ‘A prophet is not without honor except in his own country…’ and he marveled because of their unbelief.”
Our Lord returns home… not quite to the welcome any of us, even He might anticipate! File this one under “familiarity breeds contempt. It’s human nature, I suppose. It’s like the maxim in our culture (not even excluding the Church, I might add) that an “expert” is someone with a briefcase who lives more than 100 miles away. Or it’s like the old saying that “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.” People are all-too-seldom able to perceive the value in the familiar. He could do no mighty work, or deed of power there because of their unbelief. Strange how “mighty work” and “belief” are so solidly linked. Strange how hardened hearts can cut even God off at the pass. “Where did this hometown boy get all this? Isn’t He the carpenter, just the son of Mary & Joseph?” So it went and they took offense at Him.
It is important to remember what a prophet really is. Not a future teller, but a speaker of the truth and one who calls the people into judgment. Prophets are really often without honor even in places outside their homelands. The truth of God is frequently uncomfortable, troubling, confrontational, and conscience-prodding. But the fact is that God will provide the life-giving and life-saving values that lead to meaning, joy, and fulfillment. God can connect us with love, grace, and forgiveness. However, God’s power goes unused if we are not faithful enough to accept what He has to offer… Jesus could do no mighty work in Nazareth because of the people’s unbelief.
The issue which runs deeper than “familiarity breeds contempt” with even greater devastating consequences is the scandal of the Incarnation. It hounded Galilean hearts and minds then, as it hounds us now. “The Word made flesh” is both our only salvation and the greatest bugaboo of modern culture and piety. Yes, by God! He was the carpenter, the son of Mary and Joseph. The mystery of the Incarnation holds our greatest solace and comfort; namely that wherever we go in suffering, in hurt and sorrow and despair, God has gone there first, goes with us, and shows us the way… if we are but people of faith and love as shown us in His son.
Would you be surprised to know that the first greatest heresy in the Church was not the denial of Christ’s divinity, but the denial of His full humanity?! The Nicene Creed we recite every Sunday was the Church’s response to these errors. Yet, we still struggle with it because we really want a two-fisted super-hero God who kicks tail and mounts the winds with thunder and lightning. Instead we get a bumpkin blue collar carpenter who puts himself at our mercy and who now and then resembles our good ol’ boy neighbor Fred. Yep, His mama was Mary and He was a precocious little boy and as a young man He sawed wood and got splinters in His fingers and scraped His knees and got sore muscles. And he considered God His father, whom He called “Dad” (Abba)– our parent too, He tells us. When we begin to seek God in the ordinary, daily things and find that God is really there, then “mighty works” begin to happen: Works of mercy and compassion. Works of healing and empathy. Works of forgiveness and understanding and of great joy. I agree with the theologian who maintained that miracles do not evoke faith as much as faith evokes miracles.
This past week Americans celebrated the 236th birthday of the nation. As time inexorably distances us from the founding fathers, I wonder if the country we know is what they envisioned in the Declaration of Independence. It seems like the pure altruism of liberty they projected for humanity has led us from self-freedom to self-centeredness, loneliness, superficiality, and harried consumerism. Dare I observe how “free” many of our citizens feel with overstocked medicine cabinets, security systems, growing ghettos, gang violence, and a pervasive drug culture? To me the freedom we celebrated on the 4th of July should be a freedom and independence from poverty, fear, and injustice; not a freedom to exploit others for personal gain and decide who is worthy by our standards to have equal rights under the law, and from whom we will withhold civil liberties. Can we honestly say that in this “one nation under God” there truly is “liberty and justice for all”?!
Sadly, the human condition displays many symptoms of our fallen nature, in Jesus’ day and in ours. That is why God came among us to show us another way. This truth is found in the simplicity of outpouring compassionate love. A truth so simple and yet profound that the Nazarenes among us “take offense” at it. But for the shining examples of the holy ones throughout the ages, we might join our Lord and marvel at the unbelief of humanity. For those of us who choose to follow the gentle carpenter from Nazareth we can indeed be instruments of compassion and hope, liberty and justice; allowing him to perform his mighty work and deeds of power in our community and world, which he could not in his own hometown.
Amen.
Our Lord returns home… not quite to the welcome any of us, even He might anticipate! File this one under “familiarity breeds contempt. It’s human nature, I suppose. It’s like the maxim in our culture (not even excluding the Church, I might add) that an “expert” is someone with a briefcase who lives more than 100 miles away. Or it’s like the old saying that “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.” People are all-too-seldom able to perceive the value in the familiar. He could do no mighty work, or deed of power there because of their unbelief. Strange how “mighty work” and “belief” are so solidly linked. Strange how hardened hearts can cut even God off at the pass. “Where did this hometown boy get all this? Isn’t He the carpenter, just the son of Mary & Joseph?” So it went and they took offense at Him.
It is important to remember what a prophet really is. Not a future teller, but a speaker of the truth and one who calls the people into judgment. Prophets are really often without honor even in places outside their homelands. The truth of God is frequently uncomfortable, troubling, confrontational, and conscience-prodding. But the fact is that God will provide the life-giving and life-saving values that lead to meaning, joy, and fulfillment. God can connect us with love, grace, and forgiveness. However, God’s power goes unused if we are not faithful enough to accept what He has to offer… Jesus could do no mighty work in Nazareth because of the people’s unbelief.
The issue which runs deeper than “familiarity breeds contempt” with even greater devastating consequences is the scandal of the Incarnation. It hounded Galilean hearts and minds then, as it hounds us now. “The Word made flesh” is both our only salvation and the greatest bugaboo of modern culture and piety. Yes, by God! He was the carpenter, the son of Mary and Joseph. The mystery of the Incarnation holds our greatest solace and comfort; namely that wherever we go in suffering, in hurt and sorrow and despair, God has gone there first, goes with us, and shows us the way… if we are but people of faith and love as shown us in His son.
Would you be surprised to know that the first greatest heresy in the Church was not the denial of Christ’s divinity, but the denial of His full humanity?! The Nicene Creed we recite every Sunday was the Church’s response to these errors. Yet, we still struggle with it because we really want a two-fisted super-hero God who kicks tail and mounts the winds with thunder and lightning. Instead we get a bumpkin blue collar carpenter who puts himself at our mercy and who now and then resembles our good ol’ boy neighbor Fred. Yep, His mama was Mary and He was a precocious little boy and as a young man He sawed wood and got splinters in His fingers and scraped His knees and got sore muscles. And he considered God His father, whom He called “Dad” (Abba)– our parent too, He tells us. When we begin to seek God in the ordinary, daily things and find that God is really there, then “mighty works” begin to happen: Works of mercy and compassion. Works of healing and empathy. Works of forgiveness and understanding and of great joy. I agree with the theologian who maintained that miracles do not evoke faith as much as faith evokes miracles.
This past week Americans celebrated the 236th birthday of the nation. As time inexorably distances us from the founding fathers, I wonder if the country we know is what they envisioned in the Declaration of Independence. It seems like the pure altruism of liberty they projected for humanity has led us from self-freedom to self-centeredness, loneliness, superficiality, and harried consumerism. Dare I observe how “free” many of our citizens feel with overstocked medicine cabinets, security systems, growing ghettos, gang violence, and a pervasive drug culture? To me the freedom we celebrated on the 4th of July should be a freedom and independence from poverty, fear, and injustice; not a freedom to exploit others for personal gain and decide who is worthy by our standards to have equal rights under the law, and from whom we will withhold civil liberties. Can we honestly say that in this “one nation under God” there truly is “liberty and justice for all”?!
Sadly, the human condition displays many symptoms of our fallen nature, in Jesus’ day and in ours. That is why God came among us to show us another way. This truth is found in the simplicity of outpouring compassionate love. A truth so simple and yet profound that the Nazarenes among us “take offense” at it. But for the shining examples of the holy ones throughout the ages, we might join our Lord and marvel at the unbelief of humanity. For those of us who choose to follow the gentle carpenter from Nazareth we can indeed be instruments of compassion and hope, liberty and justice; allowing him to perform his mighty work and deeds of power in our community and world, which he could not in his own hometown.
Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)