Sermon: Discipleship

Sermon for Pentecost VI, Year C

St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish, Tucson, AZ

The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse, June 30, 2013

For Readings, click here– Luke 9:51-62

Open our lips, O Lord, that our mouth shall proclaim your praise. Amen.

“There is a turning point in C.S. Lewis’s enchanting,

The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe,[1] 

where the characters encourage each other with reports of Aslan,

the great lion and true ruler of oppressed Narnia.

Aslan has reappeared to fight the evil witch. 

Their words of strength and encouragement for each other, are as potent as they are succinct, “Aslan is on the move.” 

Aslan is on the move. “And now a very curious thing happened,” the story goes on, “None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do;

but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words

everyone felt quite different. …At the name of Aslan each one of the children

felt something jump in its inside…[2]

As I read these words, I felt something jump inside me!

Aslan being “on the move” and him making things right in Narnia

triggered thoughts about God on the move,

making things right in the world through Jesus Christ.

In today’s gospel reading, something similar is happening. 

This reading inaugurates the second half of Jesus’ ministry –

his journey to Jerusalem and to the cross. 

To this point, he preached, taught and worked miracles in Galilee. 

Then suddenly, Jesus hears a silent clarion call to turn toward Jerusalem. 

Jesus is on the move. 

Jesus is on the move. He finds that after all his ministry work in Galilee,

his message of the new peace of God’s kingdom

is being rejected by God’s people

because it clashes with the sacred institutions of Jerusalem.  

“When the days drew near for him to be taken up,

Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.”

This curious phrase, “set his face,”

translates from the Greek word “sterizo.”

Jesus sterizo’s his face to go to Jerusalem.

Resolutely towards Jerusalem. 

Sterizo means to fix firmly in place (physically) or

to be inwardly firm or committed.

Jesus sterizo his face because he knows

he will face opposition.

But his disciples don’t know that. 

The disciples don’t really get what this shift in itinerary means – 

that there will be no pausing, no relaxing,

no tolerated interruptions. 

The path is chosen; the die is cast and

every step will be toward the cross.[3]

Jesus is on the move.

Because he is on the move,

Jesus sends disciples ahead to arrange lodging.

To get to Jerusalem from Galilee,

Jesus hopes to go through Samaria.

But the Samaritans won’t accept him.

This rejection is not unlike to the rejection he received

in Nazareth after his baptism

and foreshadows his rejection in Jerusalem. 

Rejection, it seems, is part of following Jesus. 

James and John don’t really get what this rejection means

and seem to have short term memory loss

about handling rejection. 

They act like overzealous evangelists of another generation

(as found in 2 Kings)

who tossed balls of hellfire at those who refused God’s grace. 

They remember the scriptural precedent,

but forget they are following One who taught that

when hospitality is withheld,

to shake the dust off your feet and move on.

Revenge and retribution have no place in Jesus’ ministry.

After turning and rebuking these two,

Jesus demonstrates concretely what it means to

“take up your cross daily.”

Three times, Jesus reveals his sterizo toward Jerusalem and

the radical demands of any would-be followers.

First, someone says, “I will follow you.”

Jesus explains with analogy of foxes and birds

how he, himself, is completely dependent

on the hospitality of others. 

Is this would-be follower

ready to be dependent on the community?

Second, Jesus says to another, “Follow me.”

That person replies that he must first bury his father. 

Seems like a reasonable request

for someone in that culture to want. 

But, Jesus responds with a scathing and puzzling

“Let the dead bury the dead.” 

In essence, he says, if you are spiritually alive,

do the things that bring God’s

life-giving energy to the world. 

Is this would-be follower

ready to put following Jesus first and give up hanging out with spiritually dead people?

Finally, another possible follower says,

“I will follow you after I say farewell to my family.” 

Jesus responds with allusions to the OT story

of Elijah’s calling Elisha, but before following,

Elisha returns to his family to say goodbye.

Jesus raises the bar:

when following him, you cannot look back. 

“My way is more compelling,” he means –

do not look back, but plow ahead of you.

Is this would-be follower

ready to turn everything upside down?

Jesus is on the move,

explaining to the confounded disciples

the radicality of his words:

That Jesus claims priority over the best,

not the worst, of human relationships.[4]

pause

Aren’t we sometimes like these confounded disciples? 

Do we really understand what it means to follow Jesus?

We say we will follow,

but honestly, sometimes it is only after

we fulfill our cultural obligations.

We say we will follow,

but our family asks us for

“just one more thing before you go.” 

We say we will plow the land and

do God’s work in the world, but we look back.

Are we, would-be followers,

ready to be dependent on our community?

Are we, would-be followers,

ready to put Jesus first and give up hanging out with spiritually dead people?

Are we, would-be followers,

ready to turn everything upside down?

pause

So here is a “truth in advertising” comment:

Those of us who embrace Jesus and his mission

must be under no illusions of what it will mean for us.

Like that bumper sticker asks,

“If you were on trial for being a Christian,

would there be enough evidence to convict you?”

Following Jesus, discipleship,

means living in ways we might not otherwise live.

And that is where the sterizo of God, in Jesus, comes in. 

Jesus sees the disciples hesitating. 

Jesus knows they are keeping up religious customs. 

Jesus sees them looking back. 

Over and over, Jesus confers on the disciples

the sterizo to keep going to Jerusalem –

and beyond, to the resurrection, ascension and

the coming of the Holy Spirit.

 

In a dozen other scripture passages,

we read how God confers “sterizo,” the strength

to trust in God’s faithfulness,

to prioritize Jesus above all else, and

to proclaim the good work that God is already doing in the world.[5]

In Luke, at the Last Supper, Jesus turns to Peter.

He tells him he has prayed that his faith may not fail.

Jesus says,

“…once you have turned back [in faith],

sterizo your brothers.”

In Peter’s first letter, the conclusion adds,

“And after you have suffered for a little while,

the God of all grace,

who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ,

will himself restore and sterizo you.”

In Revelation, Jesus addressed the church in Sardis.

He said, “Wake up, and sterizo what remains…”

The good news is that Jesus strengthened the disciples

and he strengthens us.

Through the sterizo of God, we remain steadfast.

We love one another with open acceptance of hospitality,

We follow Jesus despite rejection,

We trust in the One who frees us from

possession and worship

of family first,

granting us a healthy distance necessary to love them.

How do we know the sterizo of God?

We encounter sterizo of God

in the focused effort to feed the poor at Casa Maria. 

We feel the sterizo of God in respectful conversation

around the emotionally charged issues

of guns and implicated responses

by our faith community. 

We touch on the sterizo of God

in the fresh liturgical expressions

found in same-gender union blessings. 

---

How do we know the sterizo of God? 

This ancient Celtic poem,

the "Song of Amergin," offers a glimpse:

I am the wind on the sea;
I am the ocean wave;
I am the sound of the billows;
I am the seven-horned stag;
I am the hawk on the cliff;
I am the dewdrop in sunlight;
I am the fairest of flowers;
I am the raging boar;
I am the salmon in the deep pool;
I am the lake on the plain;
I am the meaning of the poem;
I am the point of the spear;
I am the god that makes fire in the head;
Who levels the mountain?
Who speaks the age of the moon?
Who has been where the sun sleeps?
Who, if not I?

May we, emboldened by the sterizo of God,

be humble, gracious, and loving. 

May we, who seek to be embraced by

the radical love of God made known in Jesus,

know that this deep love is contrary

to all human conceptions of love. 

May we, looking through the lens of

God’s kaleidescope, follow Jesus.

And never look back.

Amen

---

[1] Inspired by Feasting on the Word

[2] C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch an

d The Wardrobe, (HarperCollins Publishers, New York, 1950). P. 74

[3] Fred B. Craddock, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, (Louisville, John Knox Press, 1990) 142-144

[4] Craddock, p.144

[5] Examples cited at http://on.fb.me/14EJiXI on June 29, 2013

Sermon ~ Unexpected

Sermon for Easter 2, Year B

St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Arlington, VA

Text: John 20:19-31

Last Friday in the Washington Post,

I saw an article[1] about Good Friday –

about faith and doubt. 

At  the author’s Shabbat services,

the prayer leader asked kids

what part of the Exodus story they liked best. 

The children responded –

The parting of the Red Sea!

Miriam’s dance with the tambourine!

The frogs!

However, there was one little child who replied,

“Oh, I don’t believe it.”

While his mother tried to shush him,

the author considered this a “teachable moment.” 

Many of the bible stories are unbelievable,

and yet God keeps visiting in unexpected ways –

a bush on fire that does not burn,

a staff flung down that turns into a serpent,

a Red Sea, parted,

A carpenter, executed as a criminal,

comes to life and greets his followers. 

Death was not the end of these stories –

and God showed up, in unexpected ways.

In today’s Gospel text, we read of one more person

who does not believe the story. 

On the evening of the first day of the week

after Jesus appeared to Mary, the disciples gathered. 

·        There, in the same upper room

as the previous week’s supper,

they huddled together. 

·        There, they locked the doors,

fearful of the Jews (the religious authorities).

·        There, they spoke softly, kept the lights low, and

in the lengthening shadows of that evening,

their eyes shifted as they exchanged glances. 

·        There, they considered Mary,

who had just the day before, said to them,

“I have seen the Lord!”

·        There, unbelievably, Jesus came and stood among them.

He showed up, unexpectedly. 

“Peace be with you!” he said and

he showed them his hands

and he showed them his wounds.

As a wave of relief swept through the room,

their shoulders loosened,

their jaws relaxed,

their breathing deepened,

and their circle widened.

They were overjoyed with Jesus in their midst;

but joy was not his goal. 

They leaned in and to listen to him.

Unexpectedly,

he breathed on them the Holy Spirit and

told them the rest of the story –

that they, as disciples, had the authority and

responsibility to forgive and retain sins.

And in their glee,

they agreed to meet back in this same place.

A week later, Thomas joined them. 

He had not been there earlier. 

The other disciples

had forgotten their disbelief of Mary and

had told Thomas, “We have seen the Lord!” 

Thomas replied like the child at Shabbat Services

that he didn’t believe it.

“Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe it.”

Even though he must have known the stories about

the burning bush,

the serpent-turning staff,

the parting Red Sea,

he still wanted proof.

The story had to fit into a narrowly defined,

concrete way of looking at things. 

He was unwilling to accept secondhand testimony. 

He seemed to know that

there would be others, like him,

who had not seen Jesus and

would not believe that

God really did have victory over death. 

For him, the story was over.

Does this sound familiar? 

Many people today have a narrowly defined,

concrete way of looking at things. 

They need proof that God is going to show up…

and a resurrected Jesus is just unbelievable.   

“Those people” may even be us. 

Sometimes we lock the door to our hearts,

hearing the familiar ker-thunk,

for fear of what others might say or do. 

We do not share our hope, faith or love.

We huddle close with our friends.

We keep to ourselves and sometimes we, too,

need proof that God will show up.   

We doubt. 

·        I have applied for how many positions so far?

What if I don’t find work? 

·        What will happen if something goes wrong

with that work project –

the one over which so many people have anguished?

·        How can education be effective if the

school superintendant does not take into account creative perspectives?

For many people,

it is Good Friday every day. 

It seems that the powers and principalities

have the last word. 

We give to Arlington Food Assistance Center

through the basket each week,

we make sandwiches every month, and

yet for many,

food security continues to be a critical, daily issue.

It hits those who cannot help it – children. 

In the Metro DC area, nearly 1 of 3 kids

do not know where their next meal is coming from.[2]

They think that is the end of the story. 

Our scientifically-oriented,

need-for-clear-answers,

desire-for-instant-gratification culture

relies on facts.

Cultural norms require proof.

And yet, God keeps showing up unexpected ways.

What we see is not the whole story. 

Jesus came through the shut doors,

inviting Thomas to

“put your finger here and see my hands,

reach out your hand and put it in my side.”

·        In that invitation, Thomas recognized Jesus –

his carpenter hands, his road-calloused feet, his kind smile. 

·        In that invitation,

Thomas responded with an unexpected cry,

“My Lord and My God!”

·        In that invitation,

Thomas’s desire for a first hand experience

of the risen Jesus was granted.

Jesus showed up just how Thomas needed him. 

Jesus refused to let deadbolts block any movement of love

Jesus gave proof, in an unexpected way,

that his death did not have the final word.

He revealed himself. 

·        Despite the locked doors and high anxiety. 

·        Despite the strong need for proof.

·        Despite Thomas’s disbelief.

Jesus showed up.  Unexpectedly, intimately, lovingly. 

This three-part poem by Tom Troeger[3] says this so well:

These things did Thomas count as real:
the warmth of blood, the chill of steel,
the grain of wood, the heft of stone,
the last frail twitch of flesh and bone.
The vision of his skeptic mind
was keen enough to make him blind
to any unexpected act
too large for his small world of fact.
His reasoned certainties denied
that one could live when one had died,
until his fingers read like Braille

the markings of the spear and nail.

I wonder if we can relate to Thomas. 

“…The vision of his skeptic mind /

was keen enough to make him blind /

to any unexpected act /

too large for his small world of fact.” 

This poem reminds us that

God is bigger than our own view.

But wait, there’s more!

After this intimate encounter with Thomas,

Jesus promised fullness of life for

“those who have not seen and yet have believed.” 

In other words, Jesus said that

anyone from then on,

who believes without seeing,

is blessed and will have unexpectedly full life.

Through the proof-needing Thomas,

we are assured of God’s presence

in our believing-without-seeing state.

Death is not the final word.

God shows up in unexpected ways. 

Answers to our most profound and desperate questions

come not because we seek them with focused determination,

but because God comes seeking us

and offers love at the very moment

when it all seems a farce. 

God shows up in unexpected ways. 

·        In unexpected solutions that occur on work projects

·        In abundance of food networks to those who are hungry

·        In creative ideas that become a supervisor’s passion

·        In prophetic voices that speak out for God’s dream

·        In the Vestry affirmation of St. Andrew’s amazing Petty-Madden Organ

Jesus seeks us, finds us, and shares with us –

through locked doors, in intimate ways,

with carpenter hands and road calloused feet. 

And when he comes to find us,

we may not recognize him,

even if he is 2 inches from our face.

However he comes,

it will be unexpected and

larger than we can conceive. 

It will be with a proclamation of peace

and an intimate love that is

stronger than even violent death itself. 

In the wonder of his wounds, he finds us.[4]

May we, O God, by grace believe /

and thus the risen Christ receive /

whose raw imprinted palms reach out /

And beckoned Thomas from his doubt.[5]

Today – look around. 

Look away. 

Look up close. 

God keeps showing up in unexpected ways.

This is not the end of the story.

Amen. Alleluia!

---

[1] http://wapo.st/HCJ7FR cited on April 12, 2012

[2] http://bit.ly/HOvpsZ cited on April 12, 2012

[3] Susan A. Blain, Ed., Imaging the Word: An Arts and Lectionary Resource, Vol. 2, (United Church Press: Cleveland, 1995), Thomas H. Troeger, “These Things Did Thomas Count as Real,” 186

[4] Serene Jones, Theological Perspective, Feasting on the Word, Second Sunday of Easter, p. 404

[5] Troeger, Tom – prayer on p. 188

Yes!

From the "out of the mouths of babes" department...

This past Sunday we had a visit from The Diocesan Bishop to confirm and receive several members of our congregation.  It was a grand worship celebration with all the wonderful accoutrements: beautiful hymns, incense, candles, bells, powerful preaching, visitors and glory to God. 

After the confirmation and reception, the Bishop led the congregation in the renewal of baptismal vows, which is common in a service like this. As per the liturgy, the Bishop began,

Bishop      Do you believe in God the Father?

[At this point, the congregation would normally have replied,
People       I believe in God, the Father almighty,
                   creator of heaven and earth.]

However, instead, we heard from a 5 year old in the front pew, saying loudly, YES!

Well, we probably could have just stopped the whole liturgy there.  It was fantastic!  The Bishop paused, the people paused, and somewhere in the back of the sanctuary, someone began, "I believe in..." and the liturgy continued.

So I reflect on the power of the interrupting YES in my life.  How often have I found myself simply responding to someone's request with the expected answer.  I think today that I will simply say YES - to my conversation partner, to my loved ones, to God.

God Says Yes To Me by Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

How will you say YES in this moment?

Enough

Everyone's got it - a shadow side.

What varies is how much we love our shadow, how much we accept and learn from our shadow and how our shadow informs how we see the world - our perspective. One of my shadowy sides tells me that there is "not enough" in the world. Or that I am "not enough." My awareness has allowed me to embrace my inner "Ursula." That not-me personality that sometimes comes out - that deep sea witch that grumbles, moans and wails. When I think about her, I realize that often the source of her power is somehow related to "not enough."

When I came across this poem by John Van De Laar in Weavings Volume XXV, it caught my eye. After I read it, I read it again and again. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do (and Ursula does, too!)

Worry and stress are not hard for us, God,
we do them without thinking.

There is always the potential of threat
to our security,
our comfort,
our health,
our relationships,
our lives,
and we foolishly think that we could silence the fear
if we just had enough money,
enough insurance,
enough toys,
enough stored away for a rainy day.
It’s never enough, though;
the voice of our fear will not be dismissed so easily.

But in the small, silent places within us is another voice;
one that beckons us into the foolishness of faith,
that points our gaze to the birds and flowers,
that, in unguarded moments, lets our muscles relax,
and our hearts lean into loved ones;
In unexpected whispers we hear it,
calling us to remember your promises,
your grace,
your faithfulness;
And suddenly, we discover,
that it is enough.
Amen

In this moment, I remember that grace is enough.

We pray that you'll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul—not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy, thanking the Father who makes us strong enough to take part in everything bright and beautiful that he has for us. Colossians 1:9

Play

A short review of E. Peterson's magnificent "Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places."

To me, it was a helpful and fabulous book, exposing Christ's playful incarnation and clarifying what "spiritual theology" might mean. All that is a mouthful, and taken in small bites, I found myself fed purely and mystically by many insights.

Peterson uses a sonnet by pet and priest G. M. Hopkins to frame this work. The poem's last lines, "provide the image for the metaphorical arena for working out the details of all that is involved in Christian living."

For Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs and lovenly in eyes not his

To the Father throgh the features of men's faces.

That sense of PLAY - exuberance and freedom that "mark life when it is lived beyond necessity..." which is to say that all life is or can be worship. Christ plays in creation, in history, in community.

Throughout the book, Peterson's frankness and economy of words captured my attention. He constantly moved back to the ordinariness that Jesus is God among us - a good thing to remember in Christmastide. "...everything that Jesus does and says takes place within the limits and conditions of humanity."

In the midst of this grounding, how do we live a Christian life?

The Eucharist is a core practice brought about by Christ in history. Central to my faith, I resonated deeply with the poem he quoted by R. Heber simply called

The Eucharist

Bread of the world in mercy broken,

Wine of the soul in mercy shed,

By whom the words of life were spoken,

And in whose death our sins are dead.

Look on the heart by sorrow broken,

Look on the tears by sinner shed;

And be thy feast to us the token

That by thy grace our souls are fed.

The treatment of the Eucharist in this book surprised me with fresh perspectives and emphasis.

Finally, Peterson wraps up the beauty of Christ playing in so many ways while emphasizing,

"This is slow work and cannot be hurried. It is also urgent work and cannot be procrastinated... but in the Christian way, patience and urgency are yoked. Urgent as this is, there is no hurry."

I connected with the playfulness and imaginative approach to his Christology. I will return to this book again, when I am impatient or dulled - to find Christ playing in abundant ways!

How is Christ alive in you, in this moment?

Spiritually alive, we have access to everything God's Spirit is doing, and can't be judged by unspiritual critics. Isaiah's question, "Is there anyone around who knows God's Spirit, anyone who knows what he is doing?" has been answered: Christ knows, and we have Christ's Spirit. 1 Cor 2:14-15 (The Message)