When I was a child, perhaps 8 years old, the pastor of the Mennonite church my family attended retired. I do not remember the details of how a pool of candidates to replace him was chosen. But the culmination of the process is etched in my memory.
Five men stand at the front of the church. An elder of the church holds up to each man a row of matchsticks, all appearing to be identical. Concealed by his hand is the fact that one of the matchsticks is way shorter than the others. Each of the five takes a matchstick, and the man who chooses the short one is thereby “called” to be our next pastor.
Casting lots to determine God’s call was standard practice in Mennonite churches at that time. And it was based on scripture—specifically, the story in Acts 1 of how Mathias was chosen from between two candidates to replace Judas among the apostles.
Today’s lessons provide three examples of God calling humankind. The scene described by Isaiah (6:1-8) is high drama indeed. It appears to have been staged, not for Isaiah’s benefit, but to proclaim the glory of the Lord. Only when Isaiah realizes and proclaims the profound implication of what he is witnessing does one of the seraphs come with a glowing ember.
Every time I hear this story, I shiver in awe and apprehension. What must Isaiah have experienced in that vision to describe it as being touched on the mouth with a live coal!
Whatever it was, Isaiah is purified, his sins wiped out. And then he hears God’s call, and his answer reverberates through the centuries: “Here am I; send me!”
Simon, also called Peter, and his partners, James and John, receive their call from Jesus in person (Luke 5:1-11). The drama on this occasion surely makes the hearts of many a resident of this Sportsman’s Paradise, Louisiana, beat just a little faster: nets so full of fish that the boat begins to sink. Wow! What a catch!
The response of those Galilean fishermen was amazement, of course, mixed with a bit of apprehension. But most importantly, Peter falls to his knees and, like Isaiah centuries earlier, declares his unworthiness. Only then does Jesus first reassure him then issue the call.
I’m not sure why—perhaps because enough food for the table was never a sure thing when I was a kid—but I’ve always enjoyed imagining the peasants who had gathered to hear Jesus helping themselves to the boatloads of fish abandoned by the new apostles who went off to follow Jesus.
The reading we just heard from 1st Corinthians (15:1-11) does not describe Paul’s conversion, but we know that story. Paul is struck down by the light of Christ, the Resurrected One, and is left temporarily blind by the experience.
In his letter to the Corinthians, he too emphasizes his unfitness for The Call. But he emphasizes even more the divine source of his ability to answer the call. “But by the grace of God, I am what I am,” says Paul, “and his grace toward me has not been in vain” (NRSV).
The Bible offers many stories of God’s call to various people. In contrast to the drama of today’s three lessons, God’s call to the boy Samuel was so subtle that Samuel thought it was the old man in the next room. Perhaps it is only grown-ups who require supernatural phenomena to get their attention!
Or, more accurately, perhaps, when we actually hear God speaking to us, we experience it as supernatural. Back when I was in the process of discerning a call to the diaconate, I parked my vehicle one day in the middle of a Louisiana thunderstorm. Just as I opened the door and began to get out, thunder clapped… right in my face, so close and loud the sound waves pushed me back onto the seat of my car.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’m listening, I’m listening!”
It is also clear from these stories that feelings of unworthiness in the face of God’s call have a long and honorable history. Nevertheless, those feelings do not constitute justification for avoiding that call. God’s grace is sufficient for all, and working through imperfect, unworthy vehicles like us is precisely the plan. Clutching our sins and gazing at God in disbelief is never a substitute for answering the call.
Now, at this point in building this sermon, I considered spending a few minutes on how Paul, the reluctant and by his own designation the “least” of the apostles, teaches us that ALL are called. Not just those who can prophesy and those who can preach, but also those who serve in the most humble capacity. All are called. And by the grace of God, all have something to offer God’s work in the world.
I also considered spending a few minutes on making a connection between “showing forth,” the theme of this season, and “going forth” in response to God’s call. And that would have made a decent sermon for this Fifth Sunday after the Eiphany.
But this week’s breaking news compels me to go briefly in another direction. Today, ten Baptist missionaries from the United States sit in a jail in Haiti, charged with kidnapping. They had gone to a remote area of Haiti and gathered up a busload of Haitian children. They were stopped by authorities as they were about to cross the border into the Dominican Republic.
The details of the story are not yet fully known. At least one version I read suggests the children, and perhaps some of their parents who were still alive, were seduced by pictures of a beautiful hotel with swimming pool and visions of a relatively luxurious future for the children.
But the part of the story that most gives me pause and compels me to speak to it today is the insistence of the missionaries that they were called by God to save those children by taking them away from their ruined homes and out of their traumatized country.
I believe them to be sincere. I believe they thought they were following God’s call. They might well have known what they were doing was illegal but took the risk willingly in their zeal to follow what they understood to be God’s call.
Countless times throughout human history, human beings have inflicted great cruelty and suffering upon each other in the name of God’s call. We do it because we are no less human for having been called. And so our own human motives, like piety, righteousness, and wanting our own answers to the mysteries of God to be the only answers—these things and more get all tangled up in our sense of God’s call.
Yes, we are called, but how do we know what we are called to do? How do we separate our own rich imagination, our arrogance, our wishful thinking about who we are… from our response to the needs of a hurting world?
As usual, it’s easier to come up with the questions than the answers. But one thing we can do to avoid going down a wrong-headed path is to test our sense of call in a community of faith. Today, not even the Mennonites use the system of casting lots to determine who is called to what. Both our individual calls to ministry and our ministries as a congregation merit discussion and evaluation from various points of view.
Another thing we can do is to bring those we would help to the table to participate in decision-making about how we can help them. It has too often been the vanity of developed nations and well-established religions to impose their beliefs and practices along with the charity they hand out. Bringing people to the table to change the way decisions get made requires a good bit more courage and faith in both God and humankind.
And so today let us give thanks for God’s call, let us accept the grace that enables us to respond to that call, and let us pray for wisdom in discerning how we are to carry out that call in ministering to the needs of the world.
AMEN.
Showing posts with label Epiphany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Epiphany. Show all posts
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Feasting: A sermon for January 10, 2010
Christmas, Epiphany, the Baptism of our Lord. What an extraordinary sequence of events. It’s like eating not one, but three rich desserts, one right after the other.
And just as our taste buds and digestive systems have a little trouble handling so much richness all at once, so our hearts and minds struggle to remain receptive, attentive and comprehending of this series of feasts in the church year.
We’ll be back in what we call “ordinary time” for the next five Sundays. But today, we have the undeniably delicious but daunting task—not only of celebrating the baptism of our Lord—but also sort of tying up loose ends by looking at the relationships among these events.
Christmas we also know as The Incarnation: God’s gracious decision to become human and live among us. We celebrate the baby Jesus in the manger.
Epiphany we might also call “the showing forth.” The wise men have made it to the manger. They who came from afar to worship are stand-ins for all the peoples of the world. God’s showing forth in the person of Jesus is recognized by humankind.
And now, rather suddenly, Jesus the grown man is being baptized. Of course, we love the story of Jesus baptized, because we too are baptized. It’s another thing we share with him and another way we follow him.
Barbara Crafton is an Episcopal priest who writes an online meditation. She connects these three feasts in a particularly valuable emphasis. “This is what the Incarnation means,” she writes. “Even the most secular of our moments is soaked with holiness. Every last moment of our moments. There's no getting away from it -- God is with us.”
What an interesting emphasis! We so often think of God as elusive. We often plead and even beg for God to be with us. But the Incarnation is irrevocable. God is here, plain and simple, in every moment of our moments, regardless of how remote God seems to us at times.
Crafton continues: “And here is what the Epiphany means: Anyone who wishes to see this can see it. Absolutely anyone. God is not hiding from us, nor is God closed to any of us. We can all walk a path that will reveal the divine presence to us. For most of us, this happens gradually throughout a life.”
In other words, God is here for everyone. The three wise kings are truly stand-ins. Their path to the divine presence was to follow a star over some great distance, we know not how far.
Our paths to the divine presence among us are as varied as we are. For each of us, it is the people, the events, the opportunities and obstacles of everyday life. When we walk those paths faithfully, we will come to see God in all of those places, moments and situations of our lives.
We all have moments of great clarity, when we see or comprehend something in a particularly fresh, compelling or unmistakable way. And it is no surprise or mystery that we call such moments “epiphanies.”
But I think Crafton is correct when she says that, by and large, our awareness of and ability to see God in the every day, more typically happens gradually throughout a lifetime. Indeed, I often am able to see God’s presence in my life, and more importantly to discern between things from God and my own willfulness and imagination, only in retrospect.
“And here is what the Baptism of Christ means,” says Barbara Crafton. “[It means] the inmost heart and utter wisdom of God is participant in our process of beginning to learn. The very same stumbling journey we make, a journey in which most of the learning that takes place happens through the challenge of learning from our mistakes, is undertaken by the Son of God...”
In other words, Crafton invites us to think of baptism—both our Lord’s and our own—as the beginning of a process of discovery and learning and living into our identities and ministries as people of God.
One aspect of Luke’s account of the baptism of our Lord merits special consideration but often does not get mentioned. Notice how Luke emphasizes that Jesus was baptized as one of many.
“Now when all the people were baptized,” says Luke, “and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying…” (NRSV: Luke 3:21) then the Holy Spirit descends in the form of a dove.
When all the people were baptized… and Jesus also, only then is Jesus revealed as the Son, the Beloved.
Two points I would make of this. The first is that Jesus’ baptism is a continuation of the “showing forth,” the revealing of God among us, that began at the manger to the angels and shepherds, and was made available to everyone with the epiphany of the wise men from afar.
And so our baptism is a showing forth, "the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace" (BCP, p 857*). It proclaims that God is among us and within us. Think of it: your baptism, my baptism, each and every baptism... a mini-Epiphany.
The second point is this: God showing forth among us and within us in the form of baptism is never earned, and it is never ours alone. Baptism is a communal event. It is a communal gift and a communal responsibility.
Now, we can all hear the words “community” and “communal” and be quite comfortable. We might even get warm fuzzes from hearing those words, for “community” like “family” is a good, solid middle class value.
But I venture to suggest that we are comfortable with these terms because we have in mind a pretty small and relatively homogeneous community—a good, solid middle class community a lot like the one in hundreds of Episcopal churches across the country on a given Sunday morning.
But that is not what God has in mind. God claims all. God’s vision as revealed to us through, for example, today's lesson from Isaiah, blows my limited human imagination of the scope and richness of God’s people right out of the water.
Each time I walk mentally through this sequence of events—God become human in the Incarnation, God revealed to absolutely anyone who elects to see in the Epiphany, God entering into human community and the process of human spiritual growth and learning through the baptism of our Lord—every time I walk through these events, then go back to Isaiah and read again the magnificent scope of God’s claim of that human community, I am stunned into silence.
Read it with me again:
"Do not fear, for I am with you;
I will bring your offspring from the east,
and from the west I will gather you;
I will say to the north, ‘Give them up’,
and to the south, ‘Do not withhold;
bring my sons from far away
and my daughters from the end of the earth—
everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made.'" (NRSV: Isaiah 43:5-7)
It’s an epiphany. A moment of clarity in which I grasp the utterly vast sweep of God's view of human community. And then it's gone. I can only hold on to it for a moment, then my human brain gets stuck in the details of our human differences and hostilities and simple disagreements. And the struggle to comprehend God's vision and desire for humankind begins again.
So be it. Amen.
Epilogue: Recently I came to the same place this homily ends by a drastically different route. I visited Edward Steichen's "Family of Man" exhibit in Clervaux, Luxembourg. See Who are we in relationship to each other? on my main blog, Coming to Terms.
And just as our taste buds and digestive systems have a little trouble handling so much richness all at once, so our hearts and minds struggle to remain receptive, attentive and comprehending of this series of feasts in the church year.
We’ll be back in what we call “ordinary time” for the next five Sundays. But today, we have the undeniably delicious but daunting task—not only of celebrating the baptism of our Lord—but also sort of tying up loose ends by looking at the relationships among these events.
Christmas we also know as The Incarnation: God’s gracious decision to become human and live among us. We celebrate the baby Jesus in the manger.
Epiphany we might also call “the showing forth.” The wise men have made it to the manger. They who came from afar to worship are stand-ins for all the peoples of the world. God’s showing forth in the person of Jesus is recognized by humankind.
And now, rather suddenly, Jesus the grown man is being baptized. Of course, we love the story of Jesus baptized, because we too are baptized. It’s another thing we share with him and another way we follow him.
Barbara Crafton is an Episcopal priest who writes an online meditation. She connects these three feasts in a particularly valuable emphasis. “This is what the Incarnation means,” she writes. “Even the most secular of our moments is soaked with holiness. Every last moment of our moments. There's no getting away from it -- God is with us.”
What an interesting emphasis! We so often think of God as elusive. We often plead and even beg for God to be with us. But the Incarnation is irrevocable. God is here, plain and simple, in every moment of our moments, regardless of how remote God seems to us at times.
Crafton continues: “And here is what the Epiphany means: Anyone who wishes to see this can see it. Absolutely anyone. God is not hiding from us, nor is God closed to any of us. We can all walk a path that will reveal the divine presence to us. For most of us, this happens gradually throughout a life.”
In other words, God is here for everyone. The three wise kings are truly stand-ins. Their path to the divine presence was to follow a star over some great distance, we know not how far.
Our paths to the divine presence among us are as varied as we are. For each of us, it is the people, the events, the opportunities and obstacles of everyday life. When we walk those paths faithfully, we will come to see God in all of those places, moments and situations of our lives.
We all have moments of great clarity, when we see or comprehend something in a particularly fresh, compelling or unmistakable way. And it is no surprise or mystery that we call such moments “epiphanies.”
But I think Crafton is correct when she says that, by and large, our awareness of and ability to see God in the every day, more typically happens gradually throughout a lifetime. Indeed, I often am able to see God’s presence in my life, and more importantly to discern between things from God and my own willfulness and imagination, only in retrospect.
“And here is what the Baptism of Christ means,” says Barbara Crafton. “[It means] the inmost heart and utter wisdom of God is participant in our process of beginning to learn. The very same stumbling journey we make, a journey in which most of the learning that takes place happens through the challenge of learning from our mistakes, is undertaken by the Son of God...”
In other words, Crafton invites us to think of baptism—both our Lord’s and our own—as the beginning of a process of discovery and learning and living into our identities and ministries as people of God.
One aspect of Luke’s account of the baptism of our Lord merits special consideration but often does not get mentioned. Notice how Luke emphasizes that Jesus was baptized as one of many.
“Now when all the people were baptized,” says Luke, “and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying…” (NRSV: Luke 3:21) then the Holy Spirit descends in the form of a dove.
When all the people were baptized… and Jesus also, only then is Jesus revealed as the Son, the Beloved.
Two points I would make of this. The first is that Jesus’ baptism is a continuation of the “showing forth,” the revealing of God among us, that began at the manger to the angels and shepherds, and was made available to everyone with the epiphany of the wise men from afar.
And so our baptism is a showing forth, "the outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace" (BCP, p 857*). It proclaims that God is among us and within us. Think of it: your baptism, my baptism, each and every baptism... a mini-Epiphany.
The second point is this: God showing forth among us and within us in the form of baptism is never earned, and it is never ours alone. Baptism is a communal event. It is a communal gift and a communal responsibility.
Now, we can all hear the words “community” and “communal” and be quite comfortable. We might even get warm fuzzes from hearing those words, for “community” like “family” is a good, solid middle class value.
But I venture to suggest that we are comfortable with these terms because we have in mind a pretty small and relatively homogeneous community—a good, solid middle class community a lot like the one in hundreds of Episcopal churches across the country on a given Sunday morning.
But that is not what God has in mind. God claims all. God’s vision as revealed to us through, for example, today's lesson from Isaiah, blows my limited human imagination of the scope and richness of God’s people right out of the water.
Each time I walk mentally through this sequence of events—God become human in the Incarnation, God revealed to absolutely anyone who elects to see in the Epiphany, God entering into human community and the process of human spiritual growth and learning through the baptism of our Lord—every time I walk through these events, then go back to Isaiah and read again the magnificent scope of God’s claim of that human community, I am stunned into silence.
Read it with me again:
"Do not fear, for I am with you;
I will bring your offspring from the east,
and from the west I will gather you;
I will say to the north, ‘Give them up’,
and to the south, ‘Do not withhold;
bring my sons from far away
and my daughters from the end of the earth—
everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made.'" (NRSV: Isaiah 43:5-7)
It’s an epiphany. A moment of clarity in which I grasp the utterly vast sweep of God's view of human community. And then it's gone. I can only hold on to it for a moment, then my human brain gets stuck in the details of our human differences and hostilities and simple disagreements. And the struggle to comprehend God's vision and desire for humankind begins again.
So be it. Amen.
Epilogue: Recently I came to the same place this homily ends by a drastically different route. I visited Edward Steichen's "Family of Man" exhibit in Clervaux, Luxembourg. See Who are we in relationship to each other? on my main blog, Coming to Terms.
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