HERE'S THE MAN - A Homily

This homily was delivered by this blogger at Christ Episcopal Church, Yankton, South Dakota on March 10, 2019. The Gospel reading this post refers to is the Temptation of Jesus as found in Luke 4:1-13

“It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

Luke 4:13

 On this first Sunday in Lent, we pick up where we left off on the first Sunday after Epiphany; with Jesus being driven into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit after emerging from John the Baptizer’s water of repentance and hearing himself declared to be God’s Son in whom God is well-pleased.

To help us understand today’s Gospel reading, I want to page ahead and start with how this Lenten story, this journey into the spring of new life ends.  Specifically, I want to begin with something Pilate said at Jesus’s trial as found in the Gospel of John.

Pilate, pointing to Jesus after having him scourged; his flesh torn, his body oozing blood and sweat said, in the common language of Greek to the crowd demanding Jesus’s crucifixion, “ίδου ό άνθρωποσ,” “Here’s the man,” or to be contextually precise, “Pay attention to this man;”[1]Pilates way of saying, “Take a good look at him because this horrific spectacle standing before you could be you,” which in the Gospel of John becomes the gospel writer’s nuanced way of saying, “This man is you.”

It is so easy to push aside the fact that during his earthly ministry this flesh and blood Jesus was exactly like us, in every sense of the word – A FACT that has been sadly drummed out of us by roughly two thousand years of theology and bickering over how to define Jesus as being both True God and True Man with the result that the God part of that equation ended up getting most of the attention; getting center stage.  Even the New Testament and the Gospels demonstrate the difficulty of putting into words how this “just-like-us” man is just like us in the light of the resurrection.

For example, when we come to the Fourth Sunday in Lent, we will hear Paul say in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “For our sake he (God) made him (Jesus) to be sin who knew no sin….”[2]  When we hear those word, our minds immediately embrace the upfront, literal meaning of those word; that Jesus never sinned – never made a mistake – was sinless, and, in that respect Jesus of Nazareth was so unlike us, was so un-human because if anything defines us as humans, it seems to be our flaws more than our virtues.

We need to remember, however, the importance of historical criticism when reading scripture; that the authors of the New Testament had particular theological points they were trying to make and explain in what they wrote and how they wrote it.  In addition, we need to remember that Paul never knew the flesh and blood Jesus of Nazareth.  He only knew Jesus as the Risen Christ of God, which occurred in a vision on his way to Damascus.

Paul would agree, however, that we cannot understand our connection to the surprising, earth shattering, re-creating big bang event, we celebrate as Easter unless we can come to grips with the notion that Jesus is one of us; that in essence, Jesus is us.

For the moment, let us reflect on our being human in the light of Jesus being human, as his being truly one of us; as his being truly one with us.  Permit yourself to imagine, if you will, Jesus before his death and resurrection as having the same flawed thought processes that we all encounter, moments of egotism, lustful desires, of falling into temptation, of having doubts, of making mistakes in judgement, of being lazy, depressed, of being selfish, of sinning; the things that most religions associate with being human.  After all, “To err is human…

Jesus clearly understood sin from personal experience.  For instance, as a twelve year old Jesus runs away from Mary and Joseph to teach in the Temple without telling Mary and Joseph that he was doing so.[3] Think about that for a moment.  I wonder what Mary and Joseph thought about that after frantically searching for Jesus for several days or what they said to him when they found him.  The Gospel of Luke gives us a hint.  Luke tells after that fiasco, Jesus was “obedient” to Mary and Joseph.  What does “obedient” imply in this context?  Which of the Ten Commandments is Luke implying Jesus violated?

Throughout his ministry, Jesus was seen as doing those things I asked you to imagine by the people of his day, including his disciples; that at the time, they did not consider Jesus to be some flawless perfect human because there were times he acted all too human.  Of course, all these instances of questionable (human) behavior on Jesus’s part get explained away as means towards facilitating a righteous end or a deeper purpose that is redacted and understood in the light of Jesus’s resurrection.[4]

Paul was right, however, in saying Jesus of Nazareth did not know and did not treat sin in the way that most of us have been taught to understand and treat it.  Jesus did not know sin to be a barrier between God and humankind, between God and himself, or as a barrier between himself and his fellow human beings that we have made it and keep making it out to be.

Jesus understood through the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah that God really didn’t give a hoot about our obsession with sin, was tired with our inane, placating ways; that God said centuries before Jesus entered the world stage, “For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”[5] Jesus’s actions towards others demonstrated his faith in this being God’s stance on the subject of sin and that God would remain faithful to that stance.

Jesus clearly knew the effect of sin because, like us, he experienced it.  We should not be surprised by that notion, shocked by it, or offended by it because he clearly describes the experience of personal sin and the remorse it causes in his most poignant parable, the Prodigal Son, a corollary to his own experience of running off as a twelve year old son to do his own thing.[6] Only a person who experienced sin first-hand, experienced its effects, experienced the remorse it caused, and experienced the unquestioning forgiveness and the unconditional love of God could speak about it with such personal clarity as this man Jesus does in that parable.

Like the father in that story, Jesus never allowed sin to be a barrier between him and those who came to him.  He broke right through it, forgave it before the thought of asking for forgiveness ever crossed anyone’s mind, and he virtually came running to the sinner, like the  father in that parable.  His blanket, unconditional bestowal of forgiveness without question on everyone he ran across was seen as an act of blasphemy worthy of death by the religious leaders of his day and ultimately, it would serve to condemn him.

This man – this Jesus forgave and forgave and forgave as a human – as one of us – until forgiveness became his last pronouncement on the humans who crucified him.

It is important to understand that fact; that truth, if one it to understand anything about Christianity.  Yes, to err is human and to forgive is to be truly human.

It is in the moment of his dying breath that Jesus affirmed his faith in the Father of us all, and it is in that dying moment that Jesus fully lived into being the Son that pleased God at his baptism in the Jordan.  It is in that moment that Jesus became the seed of a new creation that burst to life on Easter morning as the Christ, the reset point of what it truly means to be a human made in the image of God.  With that said, we can return to the importance of today’s Gospel reading.

To help contextualize what was at play when the man Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, I would like to paraphrase another familiar temptation story found in the Bible:

The serpent said to Eve, “Did God say, “You shall not eat of any tree of the garden?”  Eve said, “God told us, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree which is in the middle of the garden, neither touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said, “You will not die.  God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God.”  So Eve ate; and gave some to Adam and he ate.”[7]

The temptation of Jesus, like the temptation of Eve, was to get both to test God’s word; in essence, to test God.  The difference is that Eve, the “mother of all living things” gave into the temptation, but her seed, Jesus, didn’t.  The temptation of Eve resulted in the garden scene becoming paradise lost and the temptation of Jesus resulted in the wilderness scene, the cursed land of the first son of God, Adam, becoming the staging ground for paradise regained.[8]

Jesus remained faithful to God’s word; taking seriously the admonishment found in the Book of Deuteronomy, “Do not put the Lord, your God to the test.”[9] 

Testing God is the foundation upon which sin is defined, and, in that respect Jesus did not sin.

In quoting Deuteronomy, Jesus declared that he would not be swayed by the desire to become like God on the face of this earth, as Eve was tempted to do, like so many are tempted to do and continue to be tempted to do.  In that moment, Jesus chose to be a man; a son of Eve and a son of God.  In doing so, Jesus affirmed not only for himself but for us also that being created in God’s image and living into that image is sufficient.

This Jesus of Nazareth offers us no out to avoid being just like him in every way, because this flesh and blood Son of Man,[10] this Jesus of Nazareth shows us what a true human looks like and that the realm of God expressed in and through his humanity is within our reach, if only, like Jesus, we would let God be God and be the people God intended us to be and redeemed us to be.   As such, we would do well to heed Pilate’s advice and pay attention to this man – this Jesus.

Amen.

 * * * * * * * * * * 

Until next time, stay faithful.

Norm

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[1] John 19:5

[2] 2Corinthians 5:21

[3] Luke 2:41-51

[4] For example, see Mark 7:24-30; John 11: 1-44(pay attention to verses 4 &5 with 4 explaining 5); Mark 14;3  and John 12:3

[5] See Isaiah 33:24 and Jeremiah 31:34

[6] See Luke 15:17-32

[7] See Genesis 3

[8] See Luke 3:38

[9] Deuteronomy 6:16

[10] The term “Son of Man” when used by Jesus is in keeping with the way the prophet Ezekiel used it to define himself; simply meaning, I am human.

THE PRIESTLESS PARISH - THE LIMINALITY OF PLACE

In my previous post, I talked about the members of my parish most referenced reason for being a member as the place where we worship, the people we worship with, and the prayer book we use to worship.  In the next three posts, I will address the value of these in connecting us to Body of Christ.  

HOLY GROUND

All religions have their places of worship or places of significance.  The importance of an identified place of worship is often downplayed in American Christian culture; especially, in North American Christian culture.  After all, the psalmist reminds us, "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof. " (Ps. 24:1)  In other words, from the perspective of God, all creation is sacred turf.

Added to this, is a strong Protestant ethic that tended to take a dim of view signs and symbols and ritual as a somewhat heathen distraction. In this sense, place is no more liminal than then kneeling beside one's bed to say one's bedtime prayers which, in my opinion, qualifies.  Still, over time, place becomes important,  even though the thought of it being a liminal environment never crosses one's mind.

Humans, on the other hand, tend to mark those places where encounters with the divine occur as their sacred turf.  In the Book of Genesis, Noah, Abraham, and Jacob build altars to God at the places they encountered God.  There is not only a sense of sacredness associated with these places but a sense of the sacramental, as sacrifices or ritual in one form or another were performed in order to connect the mundane with the divine.

Many European churches and cathedrals occupy places that have been held sacred long before Christianity.  These sacred places were considered so because they were places of encounter with the "other," the holy.  In Celtic tradition, such places were considered thresholds between this world and the world of gods and other mystical beings.

Many of these places have fallen into ruin, but they still retain their liminality and some remain places of pilgrimage.  Although held in reverence by some as active portals to the other, they are referenced by others as a place of collective memory.  In the United States, the church edifice that has been around for some time can be seen as a place of collective memory.

MY CHURCH

My parish church is such a place.  It's historical and very connected to my state's history.  Governors, legislators of various kinds, a university president, etc. have all been members of this parish.  It's neo-gothic, cruciform, and traditional Anglican architecture transports one immediately to a different place: Narthex, Nave, Transept, Rood Screen, Chancel, and Sanctuary, are of a different time and different place, but the materials that built this church are largely local, a stone foundation, bricks made at a local quarry, timber brought in, but fashioned by a local wood craftsman.  The environment is dark wood and stained pine.  If swallows have not nested their young here, bats have made it their home since as long as anyone can remember.  They're not all that intrusive, but do make an occasional fly through to let us know their still hanging around.

It is a warm place, there is an eclectic array of stain glass windows that are unique to this particular structure. There is no thematic scheme to them.  They reflect their patron's preference.  We have a Masonic window that reflects the fact that our first priest established the Masonic Order of the Scottish Rite in our state. My favorite is a beautiful stained glass portrayal of St. Cecelia holding a hand held portativ organ.

The altar, pulpit and furnishings were all locally made and reflect the craftsmanship of on very talented local man.  The organ is well designed for the space and capable of playing any genre of church music.  It too is tonaly warm, but has a full tonal palate for this space.  It is a beautiful space and I can see why the members of our parish listed it as a reason for their worshiping there. There is a liminal feel to it.

LIMINALITY

The past is present here, even to the point that one could say the place is slightly haunted. Organists know these things because we tend to practice when no one else is around; sounds like footsteps walking along the North side aisle, people taking a seat in the pews, doors opening or closing, hushed voices coming from the sacristy when you know the doors are locked and no one answers when you say "Hello" just in case someone came in and didn't know I was practicing.  It's not frightening.  In fact, I get a sense of comfortable presence when such things occur.

I get why my congregation loves this place.  It has a memory of worship and prayer that has soaked into it warm wooden ceiling, its rafters, and its pews. That sense is very powerful and sitting there alone, as some members of my congregation will do at times, lends itself to prayer.  It is, above all, a house of prayer.

The facility has its own ministry, like the ancient cathedrals and churches in Europe.  It's there to tell story through it very structure, the symbols (variant forms of circles) carved into its wooden beams, repetitious patterns that are numerically significant: things in two's, threes, fours, fives, sixes, and sevens abound in its wooden shadows.  Diamond shapes  and the ever present circle motif that surround more familiar Christian symbols in its Windows.  It's like reading a coded book.

I'm not sure that most people in our small congregation pay much attention to the details, but I would venture to say they feel the unique atmosphere of the place.   It's has the feel of Holy Ground that more modern unadorned worship facilities frequently lack. It is easy to understand that should something destroy this place the congregation would rebuild on the same spot.

Holy ground is about destination,  a homing device, a place to get one's bearings, GPS for the soul.  It is geographical because humans are geographical. Like the totality of what we call God, we cannot possibly embrace the full meaning that all creation is holy ground, so we break it down to places where for a moment in time we can encounter and contemplate such vastness.  All such places bring a tangibility to the transcendent, a place where all five senses can engage in a reality that emerges through the meaning of place.

As such, places of worship are a means of worship, not the end of worship. The distinction is sometimes difficult to make for some. What makes a place Holy Ground is the experience of being drawn to or drawn into something larger than oneself.

Liminality in the Christian experience is  sensing the Body of Christ. My congregation has a sense of this mystery in their confirmation that "people are the church" during a recent congregational meeting.  Yet, there remains an interplay between place and people, place and prayer, and people in a place at prayer that defines and gives a particular shape and meaning to the incomprehensible mystery called The Body of Christ.

Until next time, stay faithful.

Norm

THE PRIESTLESS PARISH - THE POTTED PLANT SYNDROME

In this post, I look at what many small parishes in the United States face when their existence is tied to affording the services of a minister or priest and keeping  their lights on.  When a parish's congregation shrinks to a size that no longer afford a priest, one begins to ponder how a parish that has existed for over a century and a half like the one I belong to finds itself in such a situation.  Is it a problem with the parish, or a problem with diocese, or is my parish's situation merely symptomatic of what is happening in mainline denominations worldwide? 

THE POTTED PLANT SYNDROME

Having read several sources on how to rejuvenate or revitalize a dying congregation naturally leads to a discussion on the need for change.  Change, however, is mostly talked about in terms of being driven by an outsider; a priest or minister who comes in to shake things up and shake things out, which roughly translates as shaking some people up and shaking some people out.  Not once did these sources consider that the problem many mainline churches are facing is that the model of ecclesial life they perpetuate needs to change; that it is an antiquated, highly controlled, and a largely controlling  hierarchical system that fosters something similar to a codependent relationship between parish and diocese.

The blame for the shrinking congregation is usually related to the fact (and it is a fact) that congregations become very attached and comfortable with the way things have been going for so long that they see no need to change or grow.  They start behaving like a potted plant in the community; sitting there looking pretty and not prone to frequent blooming or expanding their presence beyond the pot they're planted in. Like a potted plant, the parish is content to be watered and fed by the occasional presbyter and will allow some minor pruning, periodically, but is generally adverse to being shaken up or the soil in which  it was originally planted disturbed for fear the roots have become attached to the pot, itself, and if separated from the pot, the plant will suffer and die.

Priests/ministers come and go, but for the most part and throughout much of its history the small but long established parish has remained fairly stable.  Children  grow up and leave, and as time goes by, members move or pass away, increasing the number of vacant pews.  By the time the  parishioners realizes there's a problem, the situation has become critical.  

For the most part, parishioners don't see the crisis building as long as there is a priest or minister standing in front of them blocking their view.  Once the priest leaves or retires and their isn't enough money in the treasury to keep  the way of life they've grown accustomed to going, the picture becomes all too clear, "We're in trouble."

PLACE, PEOPLE, PRAYER BOOK

When the search committee for a priest I serve on began, we presented the members of our congregation a survey to help develop our congregation's profile.  This is a normal thing to do in the Episcopal search process.  The survey is aimed at giving a prospective candidate an idea of how our congregation sees itself and what we're searching for when it comes to a priest.

We developed a very good survey as it turned out because most of the congregants took time to fill it out fully; going so far as to write in the margins to express their ideas and thoughts.  Not only did what they wrote tell us what attracted and interested them about our parish, it also revealed what they weren't concerned about - a priest.

Grant it, sending out a survey that is going to be used to develop a  church's profile for obtaining a rector (priest), one can reasonably assume things like God, Jesus, and priest to be understood.  What was interesting for me is that apart from a few spoon fed answers from which the respondent could choose from, when asked why they attend our church, the choice "I feel closer to God" (the only choice related to God) came in fifth out of seven choices.  Of the over seventy individuals who took the survey and wrote in their own comments, Christ was mentioned only once and God was mentioned three times; one of which was in answer to the question, "Where do you feel God is leading our church" to which the respondent said, "I don't know where God is leading us?"   

The survey demonstrated that what was most import to the vast majority of our congregation was: Place (our historic church building), People (the members in our pews), and Prayer Book (our form of liturgy); in that order.  The only time a priest was mentioned in the written comments was in reference to missing our last priest who retired

The presumption that most respondents weren't thinking there was a need to identify the obvious left me wondering if anyone would have bothered mentioning a priest had we not included questions in our survey regarding a priest. That people wrote extensive comments with little reference to God or Jesus, much less, mention a priest indicates that God, Jesus, and a priest were either being taken for granted or were not in the forefront of their minds as something personally important to mention as a motive to belonging to our particular church.

What place, people, and prayer book, reveal is that members of our congregation appear more concerned about our parish's form rather than its function as a "Christian" church.  The consensus seems to be that we come to this particular place of worship because we like its beauty and history.  We like the people who come here because they're the people we have come to know and like doing "churchy" things with  We love our prayer book; our way of worshipping.  It give us an identity as Episcopalian, if not Christian.  

What appears to be lacking is the connection between form and function; between loving the trappings of parish life and it's relation to the message of Jesus as a way of life.  As far as I can tell, priests in our parish have never been able to knit together the love of the place, its people, and its prayer book as an expression of their love of God or the teachings of Jesus. Perhaps such a connection doesn't exist or the thought of making it never occurred to anyone as it becomes one of those "understood things". [I will explore why "understood things" are  rarely understood in a meaningful way in a future post.]

THE SPECTRE OF EVANGELISM

Undoubtedly some might think we need to get with the program - be more Christian - forsake the things of this world; like the pot we've become root-bound in, deny our cliquish satisfaction with our form of "churchiness," risk killing off attached roots in order to form new ones, and spread out like an uncontrollable weed.  After all, there is biblical precedent for entertaining such a viewpoint.  It sounds right, doesn't it?

It may sound right, but the problem is it doesn't feel right because its not who we are nor where we're at presently.  So, I'm not going there and here's why:

When  our diocese's Minister for Transition had a live video chat with our search committee about revitalizing our congregation, he brought up the need to engage in community evangelism - spreading the Gospel - at least that's what is means in most denominations.  I can only imagine what he saw in the faces of  those present - the confused look of a small herd of deer staring in the headlights of an on-coming car.  Evangelism?  Really?  He received an immediate, but honest response, "We're not good at that sort of thing."

We live in a community that is well-churched, close to twenty different congregations in a community of roughly fifteen thousand.  Just who are we supposed to evangelize?  Just who are we suppose to convert and from what?

Let's face it, those interested in church are in a church.  Those not interested in a church have their reasons for not being interested in a church, which most likely has to do with their experiences of being in one.  It is likely that a good number of those who don't attend services regularly will identify with a particular denomination they don't care about but will say they belong to, if for no other reason than to avoid being evangelized.

What the Minister for Transition also suggested is that being small allows us to reinvent who we are.  I'm not sure what that means either, but its more intriguing than evangelizing  a community that largely identifies as church-affiliated.  He also made the observation that church's are prone to demographic trends.

In other words, seeking a younger priest will likely lead to a attracting a younger crowd.  If a congregation seeks a more established priest, this will likely maintain the type of congregation we currently have, older but more established.  If we seek a half-time priest, we will likely stick with seeking half-time priests for the foreseeable future, and so on.

What strikes me in this demographic illustration is that priests have done very little to grow the congregation since my family joined this congregation twenty-five years ago. I am not blaming or faulting them, but if that has been the trend, what makes us think that getting a priest full-time or half-time, younger or older will change that in the two to five years we have to turn things around before our reserves run out?

 "REALITY IS OUR FRIEND"

Our bishop made a very relevant observation when we began this search process.  He said, "Reality is our friend."  I like that.  

If reality is our friend, let's begin by being honest.  There is no denying that engaging in an evangelism process within a community that has a smorgasbord of churches for people to choose from is more about bringing "church-able" people in so we can afford a priest who will grow the church so we can afford to keep a priest.

This may sound cynical, but it's not.  It's reality, and its a reality that is not very appealing because it takes on the appearance of a circular circular argument and we'll likely end up where we're at right now:

What do we need to remain viable as a parish?
                          We need a priest.
How do we get a priest we can't afford?
                           We will evangelize.
What  if that doesn't work?
                           We won't get a priest and remain viable.
What do we need to remain viable as a parish?
                           We need a priest who can evangelize.
         
In addition to its lack of appeal, is the fact that it is not the change we're seeking nor is it a change that we can accommodate at the present time.

If reality is our friend, then we must start with what is real about who we are and where we're at, place, people, and prayer book.  What our congregation needs is to knit these to the teachings of Jesus.  It is only when we fully embrace who we are and understand what that means and understand connection  between place, people, prayer book and the message of Jesus that evangelism will occur naturally.

Until next time, stay faithful.

Norm

THE PRIESTLESS PARISH - LUXURIES WE CAN'T AFFORD

Note:  Christianity is entering a post-Christian era. This has caused some concern among church-attending Christians as the number of attendees are dropping in smaller parishes; particularly, in the United States of America where financial support is totally dependents upon a church's membership. The following posts will address various factor affecting the small parish as a call to make sweeping changes to the structure of organized religion both here in the United State and world-wide.

THE PARISH

By definition a parish is an administrative term used by Christian denominations to define an area that has a church and a priest or a pastor.   Increasingly, however, such parishes consist of fewer parishioners.  In the United States, Christian parishes or congregations are self-supporting and rely on the parish's membership for financial viability.  Affording full-time clergy is no longer possible for most small parishes; particularly, in countries like the United States.  

Added to that is a dwindling amount of ordained clergy.  Even if a small parish could afford a full-time pastor or priest, the likelihood of attracting a newly ordained or attracting one from a well established parish is becoming a near impossibility.  The most a small parish can hope for is either finding a priest who is covering several parishes or finding a half-time or quarter-time priest.

I began writing this post a year ago last August when the small Episcopal parish I belong to was on the verge of losing our three-quarters time rector to retirement; a priest who had served us for over seventeen years.   Since his retirement, I have been serving on our parish's search committee trying to discern how to proceed.

Like many small parishes that comprise an aging population and have become reliant on interest from invested reserve funds to make ends meet, our little parish no longer can generate enough income from its pledges and offerings to afford a full-time or a half-time priest without digging into investment principal and risk rapid depletion of that monetary source.  We're not alone in this situation. 

LUXURIES WE CAN'T AFFORD

Ordained clergy are becoming a luxury many small parishes cannot afford.  I know something about luxuries small congregations cannot afford because I'm one of them.  I'm my church's organist.  I've been the organist at my church for the past twenty years.  For about half that time I received a small stipend of appreciation to keep me tethered to the organ bench.

When it became apparent that our parish was beginning to struggle financially, I was among the first to say I'd offer my services freely and have done so since that time.  I have never regretted doing so and rather enjoy the sense of having lost the tether.  In my part of the country, most organists probably are in  the same situation.  I also suspect organists are a rarer specimen in a church's ecosystem than clergy.  Fewer people are taking up the King of Instruments nowadays.

The trend is that priests and other ordained clergy are headed in the same direction of ecclesial extinction as organists.   Seminaries are closing as fast as organ programs in university music departments.  The mainline church environment is changing fast; where the term "climate change" has taken on a whole new meaning as small congregations are losing body heat due to membership decline and are dying from demographic hypothermia.

Traditionally, the answer to these problems has always been "Get a priest or minister; one way or the other: full-time, part-time or an occasional supply priest/minister. It doesn't matter. Just get one!"

The dependency on ordained clergy in mainline denominations as the mains source of leadership remains extremely high; even as the number of ordained clergy are declining as a result of their aging out and the fact that younger people are showing less interest in entering traditional Holy Orders or ordination. 

In my neck of the woods, there are few Episcopal churches to draw from; thus, not an abundance of Episcopal clergy to spread around. We do have the option of appealing to the clergy from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America for assistance, but, at present, this has not been seriously considered  Besides, the ELCA is facing the same problems with regard to supplying pastors as the Episcopal Church is having with supplying priest.  Being in the Dakotas is not a big draw to those ordained clergy who can pick and choose parishes that are more financially lucrative and more stable than ours.

Some might question, "Where's your faith, man?  God will provide."   As a person called to discern where God is leading our parish, I have no doubt God will provide. The question is what is God providing and where are we headed?

For me, the current moment is an opportunity to ponder the possibilities this juncture in our parish's life offers.   A host of "what if" questions emerge as time goes on.  Our parish's limited financial and human resources puts on equal footing two diametrically opposed questions: "What if we don't get a priest?" with "What if we do?" 

It is one thing to close the doors of a church because a small parish really can't afford to pay for the upkeep. It's quite different thing to say that if or because we can't afford a priest or minister we will be losing our church and cease being a parish.    It seems to me, at least, that now is the time to think differently about the role of our congregation in community life before those become our only options.

* * * * * * * * * * 

All Christian denominations are hierarchal in structure; from those claiming to be independent to those long established and identified as catholic and orthodox.  There is no way to avoid the human proclivity to order things by rank.  The longer an institution exists the more prone to order its structure along hierarchal lines.  

Organized Christianity has been around for over two thousand years.  Two thousand years of organizing and reorganizing the structure of the Church has seen the Church evolve from a seemingly subversive movement that defied imperial rule to becoming an imperial realm in its own right, known as Christendom.  It has evolved from a being a church hiding out in catacombs to a church that builds basilicas and cathedrals throughout the world. 

Everything on this planet is subject to change.  This includes the Church, as a whole.   The weight of its varied structures and its inability throughout the centuries to deal with changes brought about by scientific understanding and social development which have challenged its traditional ways is forcing it to buckle under its own weight and shrink.

The loss of influence that  Christianity has on culture, government, politics, and society in general is like watching a glacier melt quickly into a multitude of easily forded streams.  This is acutely and readily observed at the local level, where the local church no longer holds the importance in maintaining a sense of civil order it once had; where membership in a mainline denomination is no longer a prerequisite for attaining or maintaining social status.  It is the small parish, like an endangered species in a rainforest, that demonstrates an environmental shift in the political and social climate in which these parishes exist by their increasing disappearance.

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As my small Episcopal parish is coping with the reality that it may not be able to afford the luxury of a full-time rector (priest) for the long run, it nevertheless has opted to search for one in the hope of that doing so will result in finding a priest who will either be so dynamic a leader who increases the size of our small flock or who will so inspire our small flock to bring others into our small church from our community.  It seems that few have really considered the ramifications of such an undertaking or have no other alternatives in mind but to think in such terms.  

In filling out a questionnaire that our diocese has requested we do to draw candidate consideration, I ran across one of the question that gave me pause, "How are you (our small parish) preparing for the Church of the future?" 

I found that such an interesting question that it begs several questions. For instance, one question that immediately came to mind was,"What has the dioceses been doing to prepare small parishes like ours to prepare for the situation we are now facing?"   Apart from dwindling our resources on a full-time or part-time priest that may or may not increase our parish's viability, "What other models of leadership and parish viability exist that we can explore?"

Pondering such questions and the dwindling situations the small parish or congregation finds itself in will be the focus of future posts. 


Until next time, stay faithful.

Norm

THE BAPTISM OF OUR LORD - A Homily

This homily was preached at Christ Episcopal Church, Yankton, South Dakota on January 13, 2019

                      

“He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.  His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Luke 3:16b-17 

After Christmas and Epiphany, a Sunday commemorating the Baptism of Jesus may strike us as a bit ho-hum – nothing too much to celebrate that’s new.  Jesus being declared God’s Son has been the topic for the past three weeks.  In order for us to think differently about Jesus’ baptism, let’s consider this rather atypical description of Jesus as a spiritual arsonist and someone who is going to beat the chaff out of us.

The implied question being asked is “Are we ready for a workout?”

As we ponder that question, we have an opportunity to examine our own baptismal covenants in the light of Jesus’ baptism and what it means when we say that sacraments are a means of grace.  Beginning with the word, “covenant,” a word used throughout the Bible, we know that a covenant is a binding agreement between two or more parties. Where covenants are concerned in the Hebrew Scriptures, we observe that it is God who initiates them.

In Genesis, God says to Noah, after the flood, “I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants”[1] (everyone since that time).  After which, a rainbow appears.  If you know this story, you cannot help but think about God and this covenant every time a rainbow appears.

Then there is the covenant that God made with Abraham, “This shall be my covenant with you:  You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations.”[2]  Most notably, there is the covenant that God made with the people of Israel in the wilderness of which Moses says, “He (God) declared to you his covenant, which he charged you to observe; that is, the Ten Commandments…” [3]

In essence, God’s covenants are about keeping God in mind; that by keeping God in mind is also God’s way of keeping us in line, saving us from ourselves. What becomes evident is that what God is after, what God wants from these covenantal relationship is foremost an identified relationship, to be recognized as the faithful God of love.

Prophets like Jeremiah saw a time when God would make a new covenant with the House of Israel in which God would implant he law into people and write it upon their hears.  Jeremiah writes, “No longer shall each man teach his neighbor and each his brother saying, ‘Know the Lord’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord, for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.”[4]

We Christians recognize that as grace, which brings us to the baptism of Jesus.

John the Baptizer used baptism as a way to reorient his audience to God’s covenantal relationship with them by washing their sinful desires away in the waters of the Jordan and sending them downstream to the Dead Sea – an apt destination.  Jesus’ approach to John’s baptism was a much deeper undertaking and John knew it:

“I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals.”[5]

When Jesus entered the troubled waters of John’s baptism, Jesus does so as a child of Abraham, as one who embodied the law of God’s love and held it in his heart.  When Jesus waded into the waters of baptism, he was offering himself up to a process of formation called kenosis (the complete emptying of self).  He did so not to turn away from sin, but rather to take it on, to drench himself in the frailty of humanity that had pooled in those waters; to initiate our side of the covenant, to fulfill the covenant of God’s love for this world, to say yes to God.

When Jesus emerged from his baptism, drenched in the waters of our shared humanity, John sees the Holy Spirit descend on him like a dove and Jesus gets lit up with zeal for all of God’s people, for us.  Jesus becomes a living sacrifice to God and God accepts the condition Jesus presents, the fullness of human love for God and God says YES – “You are my Son, My Beloved.  In you I am well-pleased.” [6]

That was the BEGINNING.  The baptism of Jesus became the means to begin his ministry, not the end.  Jesus did not sit back and say, “It’s all good now – DONE!”  

As the Gospel of Mark points out, “The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness”[7] – that great metaphor for life’s challenges.  Throughout Jesus’ ministry, he lived into being both the Son of Man and the Son of God in his total love for God and in his total love for that which God loves.  His faithfulness drew the faith of the others.  Jesus was often surprised by the faith he encountered in people; especially, when it came from unexpected places like a Roman Centurion, a Syrophonecian woman, and a Samaritan Leper.[8]  

Jesus gave shape to this new covenant of Love throughout his ministry which came to full form on the cross and affirmed in his resurrection.  Jesus’ ministry was a workout of faith from the moment he emerged from the waters of his baptism.  Jesus did not take being identified as God’s Son for granted.[9] He lived into it, worked through it, became it every step of his earthly journey and this is why listening to the stories of his ministry is important because they apply to what we experience today – they show us the way.

As the ministry of Jesus began at his baptism, so does ours.  Unfortunately, Baptism has been subjected to placing the emphasis on the wrong theological syllable.  For instance, there is a belief that Baptism makes one a child of God.  Scripture points out that every living human is a child of God; that every person is made in the image of God, carries the kernel of that image in them, but not every person knows that or is told that.  If people don’t know that or aren’t told that or aren't told it frequently, they don’t know or they forget and are deprived of the means of grace that we have access to.

Like Jesus’ baptism, our baptism is about recognition.  It’s starting a process that rids us of the chaff hiding the kernel of our true being as a daughter or a son of God; as co-heirs with Christ.  Baptism is about being lit with the fire of the Holy Spirit that will keep the chaff away.

Baptism is our entry into the faith of Christ and into our formation as members of Christ’s body.  Baptism is a means of grace, a way for faith to grow; a way for grace to become manifest in our lives.  

As defined by our catechism, “Grace is God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved, by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills.” [10] When we talk about the means of grace, we’re talking about something that keeps the love of God in the forefront of our hearts and minds.  It is an abuse of this sacrament to think of Baptism as a “Get out of Hell” card or a passport into Heaven.  Baptism is the starting point, not the finishing point of our relationship with God in this life’s journey, and it needs to be exercised and nourished through word and sacrament along the way.  

The sad fact is that some who have been baptized see Baptism as the end game; as if there is nothing more to do – Saved by Grace!  That’s true, that’s the endgame, but a means is never an end.  The sacraments are a means, a way, to keep the end in sight throughout life’s journey.  

As far as I can tell, God never called anyone to become a spiritual couch potato when it comes to faith.  Yes, God redeems the whole world, but sitting around waiting for that to happen won’t make life’s challenges any easier and it runs the risk of becoming more chaff than kernel.   As the Letter of James point out, faith that is not put to work; faith that is not developing will die.[11]

Engaging the world we live in is a workout.  Without faith, it will wear us down and wear us out.  With faith it will build us up and restore us to life.  

Jesus is our path of faith, our spiritual guide, and our trainer for living deeply into our covenantal relationship with God, and this place (our church) is our spiritual gym, the place where we start each week stretching our hearts and minds.

May God’s grace strengthen our faith and build us in love through Christ our Lord.   Amen.

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Until next time, stay faithful.

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[1] Genesis 9:9

[2] Genesis 17:4

[3] Deuteronomy 4:13

[4] Jeremiah 31:31-34

[5] Luke 3:16a

[6] Luke 3:22b.

[7] Mark 1:12

[8] See Luke 7:1-10; Mark 7:24-30; Luke 17:11-19

[9] See Philippians 2:5-8

[10] “The Book of common Prayer,” The Hymnal Corporation, New York, New York, Page 858

[11] James 2:26