God is Walking on Water in Selma

God is Walking on Water in Selma

Proper 12, Year B, 2015

“You are the Christ, the great Jesus Christ.  Prove to me that you’re no fool.  Walk across my swimming pool.” These words are taken from a very, very lose interpretation of Jesus’ passion and death as depicted by the 1970s musical Jesus Christ Superstar.  If you haven’t seen the movie or play, then I am not sure you are missing much.  But then again, I might have just committed a modern day cultural heresy for saying such a thing. 

            Anyway, King Herod seems to be articulating something that many of us have wondered at some point in our life.  If Jesus is really the Christ, why don’t we see him performing miracles on demand?  Why isn’t Jesus still walking on water or turning a few loaves of bread into enough for thousands?  What happened to Jesus the miracle worker?

            Even more, the miracle stories of Jesus, stories that once inspired belief, now seem to inspire doubt and disbelief instead.  We live during a time when everything has to be explained.  We live during a time where knowledge is the path to truth and enlightenment.  Because if we know why things the way things are, then we will be able to fix them and save the world, right?   

This being said, every forward thinking person knows that it is impossible for someone to turn just a few fish into enough for a community fish fry where everyone has their fill.  Even more, the physics of walking on water just doesn’t work.  Human beings just can’t walk on water—it is a scientific fact!  And scientific fact is the end game—or so we like to sometimes think.

            And this line of thinking isn’t limited to non-Christians.  Even Christians reduce the power of Christ’s miracles in order to have them make sense according to our human point of view.  Too often we try to explain miracles according to human understanding.  We try to explain miracles in such a way so they won’t break the rules of science and human reasoning. 

For example, some Christian scholars examine the original Greek from today’s gospel and explain that the original text says that Jesus walked “by” the water and not “on” the water.  They claim this because the Greek word for on or by are interchangeable.

Others hold the view that the generosity of the little boy who shared his lunch inspired the entire crowd to share their secret stashes of food for the entire group to enjoy.  And this is a belief that I held for a long time.  After all, my preacher growing up, arguably one of the greatest in the Episcopal Church, John Claypool, held this view. 

If this is how you look at these stories, I am not going to tell you that you are wrong.  However, I do invite you to consider what you are giving up.  This is a question that I often ask myself when faced with a theological crisis.  What am I giving up if I hold this particular view point?

In the case of Jesus walking by the water instead of on the water, I believe we give up the idea that God has the power to alter how we see how the world works.  I believe if we don’t take seriously that Jesus can actually walk on water, then we can’t take seriously that Jesus is establishing God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. 

If Jesus’ doesn’t walk on water, then I am not sure we can fully consider the truth that God’s heavenly kingdom operates differently than our earthly kingdoms.  And ultimately, if Jesus doesn’t walk on water, then I am not sure we can take seriously the implications that Jesus is risen from the dead. 

In addition, while the crowd might have been compelled to be more generous in their giving as a result of the feeding miracle, I believe we are giving up God’s ability to surprise us with his works of wonder if inspired sharing is the driving force behind the miracle.  In other words, I believe this inspired sharing interpretation limits God to one who is governed simply by human laws and not by divine possibilities. 

Don’t we believe in a God who does more than just inspire us?  Don’t we believe in a God who is desperate to break the rules of our earthly reality so we come to know a new reality in Christ?  Don’t we have a God who can take even our best efforts and dreams and turn them into something beyond our wildest imagination? 

Yes, our God calls us to share the little that we have and that is critical, but the real miracle is what God does with our mustard seed of faith!  God makes the impossible possible.  God takes what shouldn’t be enough from our human point of view and does things that surpass any kind of human understanding.       

The Apostle Paul certainly believed in this kind of God.  In today’s letter to the Ephesians, Paul falls to his knees in prayer.  Paul prays, “I pray that you may have the power to know… the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.  Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” 

We have a God who can do for us things that go beyond anything we can ask or imagine.  We have a God who gives us a faith, as Paul says to the Corinthians, where we no longer see the world from a human point of view.  Instead, God gives us a faith to see how God is establishing his heavenly kingdom on earth through the work and person of Jesus Christ. 

We are given a faith to see a new reality that doesn’t operate based on human commands but rather a world that operates because we have a God who is faithful despite the limits of human ideas.  Through these miracles, God is inviting us to live where life was previously deemed impossible.  The miracles of Christ are meant to move us beyond the limits of the human point of view and invite us to operate in a world where anything is possible with God—even walking on water and turning not enough into too much. 

Soon the Vestry is going to invite the congregation to share in a conversation that explores how God is walking on water in Selma and how God is calling us to offer the little we have so God can use it to make dreams come true.  This past weekend the Vestry sort of kicked off this conversation as a leadership team with consultants from the Episcopal Church Foundation.  I am not going to debrief you on all that was talked about this morning except to say that we dreamed BIG.  I believe we dreamed BIG because we believe in a God who dreams BIG. 

We dreamed about not only what God can do through St. Paul’s but what God can do when the community dreams together.  We all know the obvious issues at hand—crime, education, industry, infrastructure, and the list goes on.  But how can we get out of our own way and give God a chance to do something that will show the world that we have a God who can raise even the dead to life? 

I know the thought of reviving Selma is an overwhelming thought—I have plenty of those days too.  There is good news.  I’ve said it before.  I’ve heard many of you say it too.  The good news is that God is up to something special here in Selma.  And that is good news because only with God’s help is revival possible.  I know some of you might think I am a fool too.  How can I believe in revival with all the problems out there?  Here is how I believe… 

I believe the same God who called the 100 year Abraham and the 90 year old Sarah to give birth not only to a child but to the entire nation of Israel is calling Selma to hope for a brighter future for our children for generations to come. 

I believe the same God who called a very under-qualified Moses to lead a very stubborn nation of Israel out of bondage into the land of promise is calling our community to get past our shortcomings and division and see that God can take us anywhere if we work together. 

I believe the same God whose breath gave life to dry bones and made them rattle is breathing life back into Selma, and I can already hear the faint sound of an excited rattle.   

Most of all, I believe the same God who is at work in Jesus Christ is alive in Selma.  The same God who can bring even the dead to life is walking through our streets and calling the faithful to be inspired by his works of wonder and generosity that surpass human understanding. 

God is among us and is walking on water all over Selma.  Can you see it?  God is among us and inviting us to consider how just a little can be turned into more than enough.  Can you see it?  Can you see Jesus emerging through the windstorm?  If you can, then what a terrifying and awesome site it is.

And the good news is that Jesus is calling to us out of the storm in Selma and saying, “It is I, do not be afraid.”  Jesus is reaching out his hand and telling us that with his help we can make it to dry land; we can endure the storm and get to where we’ve always dreamed of going.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.       

The Fringe of His Cloak

The Fringe of His Cloak

Proper 11, Year B

Listen to Audio Version of Sermon

“As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.”  Can you imagine what this might have looked like?  If you read on in scripture, we learn that the crowd includes 5,000 people not including women and children.  Where do we see crowds like this today?

I am sure many of you have seen crowds like this gather for sporting events, concerts, political rallies, protests, and so on.  When visiting Newburyport, Massachusetts last spring, I read that evangelist George Whitfield would preach to over 10,000 people in an open air setting there during what was known as the Great Awakening.  And of course mega-churches today see crowds like this gather all the time.  Closer to home, Selma saw a crowd of almost 100,000 people gather around and on the Edmund Pettus Bridge just a few months ago for the Jubilee.

For the most part, the crowds we are used to seeing gather because of some kind of shared interest or belief.  The crowds we are used to seeing gather because they all like the same football team or the same band or the same politician.  But something else seems to gather the crowd we see in today’s lesson.   

There seems to be a spirit of desperation among this crowd as they hurry ahead to try and catch a glimpse of Jesus.  Even more, Jesus describes this group as sheep without a shepherd.  Because of the famous parable of the Lost Sheep, we usually just think of one lost sheep.  But here we have over 5,000 lost sheep all in one place. 

Here we have a group of people who gather because they are all in need of one thing—healing.  Here we have a people who are broken and are desperate to be made whole.  Even more, here we have a group of people who are so desperate that they don’t care that the whole world knows it.  They are done trying to make it seem that they have their life together.

So when Jesus sees the desperation in the crowd, scripture says he has compassion for them.  Scripture doesn’t have Jesus saying, “Gosh what a pitiful site or what a group of ne’er do wells—they need to get their act together.”  Scripture says Jesus has compassion for this group of lost sheep.  Even though Jesus and his disciples are headed off for a much needed rest, Jesus’ compassion compels him to delay rest and continue his ministry.  Jesus teaches, feeds, and heals this group of desperately broken people.

In her book Searching for Sunday (the book we are using for our Summer Series), Rachel Held Evans argues that most authentic church communities gather not because of a shared belief rather because of a shared brokenness.  As a child, Rachel was taught that church was for those who had it all figured out and for those who had their life all put together.  There was little to no room in her church for those who had doubts or for those who didn’t have their act together (at least on the outside). 

So when Rachel had a crisis of faith, when she started asking questions that challenged the shared belief of her church community, she was met with parishioners who would say stuff like, “This book will give you the answers you need to get your faith back.”  Or others would say, “Are you praying hard enough?”  These kinds of responses left Rachel isolated from her church community and ultimately led her to leave church.

I had a different experience in church.  Unlike Rachel, I grew up in the Episcopal Church.  There have been times in the Episcopal Church when I wondered, “Are we giving too much room for people ask questions that challenge the shared belief of the church?”  I went to seminary with classmates and even professors who reduced the resurrection of Jesus to a metaphor.  I even know people in church who skip the virgin birth part of the Nicene Creed.  But I digress.

My point is that when I had a major life crisis that might have left me isolated from many church communities, I found instead a measure of compassion that actually led me to find deeper relationships within my church community and ultimately a deeper relationship with God.

As some of you know, when I was seventeen years old, my dad committed suicide.  Growing up in a culture where some Christians are obsessed with saying who gets to go to heaven and where suicide is considered an automatic ticket to hell, a part of me was ashamed to admit to the nature of my father’s death.  Sometimes when people asked me how my father died, I would say, “He died of a broken heart.”  Other times, I would just say, “He died of a terminal disease.”

But thankfully, there was St. Luke’s Episcopal Church.  There were people who reminded me that I didn’t have to be ashamed.  When I remember this time in my life and remember the people who reached out to me, I remember faces of compassion. 

I remember one of the priests Susan embrace me with tears and a hug instead of a prescription for salvation.  I remember my best friend Reed, who visited Selma last Sunday, curse in disbelief and that was his prayer.  And sometimes those are the best kind of prayers. 

I remember my Uncle Richard affirm me when I asked, “Did he die of a broken heart?”  He didn’t try to correct me.  I remember my history teacher pull me out of class when I returned to school and tell me that I had nothing to be ashamed of and that I could excuse myself whenever I needed to. 

I remember my youth minister Michael coming over to visit that night, and he just sat in the living room for hours waiting to lend a hand when he could.  He didn’t have to speak.  His presence was enough.  I remember my mother letting me and my sisters cry and cry without ever stuffing a tissue in our faces.

A decade later, I helped officiate at a funeral for a successful middle aged man who killed himself.  And he had teenage children at home too.  In many ways, it was like officiating at my own father’s funeral.  I did my best to hold myself in check.  When the funeral was over, I bit my lip until I made it into the sacristy when I collapsed in grief. 

I collapsed into the arms of a parishioner named Shannon who just happened to be standing there.  As it turns out, Shannon was a year behind my dad at John Carroll High School and one of my Aunt Lutie’s good friends.  More than most, Shannon knew the weight of my grief, and I didn’t have to explain myself.  I was allowed to be broken without any excuses.  I didn’t have to hide from my brokenness. 

Isn’t it amazing what the compassion of Christ can do?  The compassion of Christ doesn’t try to explain things.  The compassion of Christ doesn’t try to tell you how you should feel or pray.  The love of God doesn’t make you feel guilty for having doubts or questions.  Instead, the compassion of God meets you in your brokenness in hopes that you will know true healing through Christ our Lord.

In each of these people I talked about earlier, I touched the fringe of his cloak and was healed.  As I have learned over the years, I am still being healed.  The compassion of Jesus still lives in the heart of humanity because Jesus is still healing broken hearts through the people he has chosen to be a part of Christ’s Church. 

Jesus still lives and walks and gathers those who desperate for healing.  And this is the good news of the gospel.  And guess what, the Church gets to be the fringe of his cloak!  The Church gets to be God’s agent of healing in the world.  We, the Church, get to live by a faith that knows that all the world needs for wholeness and healing is the compassion we know in Jesus. 

The Church doesn’t need try and explain the path to healing and wholeness through better prayers and better theology.  The Church doesn’t to prescribe the fastest or most efficient way to salvation.  Instead, the Church needs to continue and preach all are welcome, continue to preach the compassion of Christ is the way to life. 

People sometimes ask if I can give them advice.  And I often respond, “I am actually really bad at giving advice.  And I am not sure it is my job as a priest.”  Instead, I believe I am called to invite people to know the compassion that I have known in Christ. 

 As Christians we are called to extend that invitation.  “All who are broken are welcome.  All who are weary are welcome.  All who are fed up with the Church are welcome.  All who think they have it figured out are welcome.  All who know they don’t have it figured out are welcome.  All who believe they are not welcome are welcome.  All who are desperate to know what it is like to be made whole are welcome.”

I hope this makes room for everybody.  I know that God’s hopes this invitation makes room for everybody in the Church.  Because God will not stop until every lost sheep is found even if our Good Shepherd has to go out again and again to find that lost sheep. 

And the good news is that the Church doesn’t have to fix the broken hearted, the Church doesn’t have to try and fix the sinner.  The good news says that the Church is a place where all people can grow in grace, where all people can grow into the full stature of Christ by learning to accept a compassion that never gets tired of healing.  The good news that we get to experience and that we get to share says that the inexhaustible compassion of Christ is enough to heal a broken and exhausted world.  Amen.       

    

The Disguise of Evil

The Disguise of Evil

Proper 10, Year B

Audio Version of Sermon

As if the image of John the Baptist’s head on a platter isn’t startling enough, I thought I’d recall an image from the Revelation of John to sort of kick things off this morning!  While we are at it, might as well swing for the fences, right?! 

I would imagine that the most memorable image in the Book of Revelation are the four riders of the apocalypse.  There is a rider on a white horse, a red horse, a black horse, and a pale horse.  The red, black, and pale horses represent the horrible evil our world accommodates—war, pestilence or disease, famine, and death. And then there is the white horse who represents Christ the King.  Revelation talks about the white horse riding out to conquer the evils of this world. 

One biblical commentator, Eugene Peterson, suggests that the white horse is ripping the disguise off of the evil powers of this world.  I believe Peterson is suggesting that humanity has normalized or sanitized evil and has become immune to how ugly it is on the inside no matter how alluring on the outside.  We cover evil up with quick fixes and temporary solutions—we indulge ourselves in the false promises of this world that seem tempting on the front end but only leave us empty in the end. 

We do these things because we have this idea that our problems will go away if we can’t see, hear, or smell them.  It’s kind of like trying to cover up cigarette smoke with perfume and gum.  It just doesn’t work.  The only person you are fooling is yourself.  And if we are really good at covering up or hiding evil, then we start to normalize that kind of behavior and justify our actions. 

And I strongly believe that without the good news of Jesus Christ, we will continue to normalize and run and hide from evil living by the illusion that we can escape the evil powers of this world.  But like Jesus says in a parable, we are only setting ourselves up to be caught unprepared when the bridegroom comes like a thief in the night.

Like John the Baptist says, the first step in recognizing that the kingdom of heaven has come near is recognizing the things that are preventing us from living in this new world.  The first step is recognizing how much we depend on evil and sin to survive in this often cruel world.  And so in the Book of Revelation, we see that Christ is doing us a favor by helping us recognize the horrors we bless and depend on for survival. 

Perhaps an example will help.  Peterson refers to the black horse and says it like this “we disguise sickness or disease with technology.”  He cites evidence that says with the rise of technology there has also been a decline in our heath.  He also states a startling truth that says that the nations with the greatest access to medical care are the sickest.  We have a pill or a procedure for everything and ultimately delay the dealing with the fact that we are damaging our bodies beyond repair like an athlete who destroys himself with steroids. 

Ultimately, the good news is giving us the courage to name honestly those things that distract us from putting our life and health and salvation in the hands of Jesus Christ.  Christ is helping us see that living a life according to sin is destructive not only to oneself but to the entire community. 

As I have needed in my own life, Christ has put people in my life to help me rip the disguise off the sin I have normalized or sanitized.  And the good news says there is a way to live beyond the evil we give so much power to, evil that is ultimately powerless before Christ the King.  In the end, I believe the only power evil has is the power we give to evil.  Evil can only survive if we feed the beast.  So stop feeding the beast, right?  If only it were that simple! 

In today’s Gospel lesson, we see how hard it can be to resist feeding the beast especially when you are the one with all the power.  King Herod throws himself a birthday party and because his daughter dazzles the crowd with her dancing, Herod promises her whatever she wants—even half of the kingdom, he says.  But when Herod’s daughter Herodias (or Salome) announces she wants John the Baptist’s head on a platter, Herod becomes conflicted.

For starters, Herod likes having John the Baptist around.  He is kind of like the king’s rabbit’s foot—his good luck charm.  But even more, a part of Herod likes to listen to John.  A part of Herod, as pathetic as he is, desires to know the truth of God as spoken through John.  But will these things contend with competing interests?

First of all, king or no king, Herod is a father whose daughter is a princess.  And like any father, he will do anything for his daughter.  Even more, Herod is a politician and must follow up on his promises (enter silent joke here).  Herod can’t let the crowd down now.  He must be true to his word.  It is all about who has the most power.           

So Herod, when you boil everything down, has two choices.  He can go on living like he has always lived and sacrifice one more innocent person at the expense of his power trip.  Or Herod can completely upset everything he has ever known.  He can lose his throne, his wife, his daughter, and his power all to save one wild haired hippie who doesn’t seem to know when to be quiet.   

 I don’t have to tell you that Herod chose to feed the beast.  He continues to satisfy his insatiable appetite for power.  While I doubt any of you have been presented with this level of conflict, I do challenge you to consider how Herod’s dilemma looks like your own dilemma.  How is your craving for power getting in the way of you hearing the truth of God?

Think of it like this.  What idols are you prone to worship?  Tim Keller defines an idol by saying, “It is anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God, anything you seek to give you what only God can give.”  So what in your life is consuming you more than the love of God?  Work? Money? Success? Family? Sports? Gossip? People pleasing? Food? Drink?  And how has worshiping these false gods become normal or sanitized by you and/or society?

Well, I have bad news, worse news, and good news.  The bad news is that if you admit to worshiping false idols and turn to God, then you have before you a spiritual journey that will be a little messy and chaotic—you may even lose people and possessions you love but you can only go up from there.  But there is worse news, if you don’t admit to idol worship or don’t admit that it is destroying life, then your luck will soon run out and you will be left as no better than a beggar.

But there is good news.  Jesus is telling us that we don’t have to live worshiping dumb idols, we don’t have to set ourselves on a path to eventual destruction.  We can put our trust in something that lasts—even if that means upsetting the way our life has always been. 

But again there is good news, we are promised that even as heaven and earth and reality as you know it falls apart, the eternal truth of God’s Word will never fade away.  And we can trust the eternal truth of God’s Word because the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, died and has risen to new life. 

There is more good news (I feel like I am running an infomercial).  Jesus is revealing to you that you don’t have to hide or minimize evil.  In fact, you can stare evil and sin in the face and say, “you are powerless over the love we know in Christ who has defeated even death and the grave.”  You can stare evil in the face and have confidence to say, “Do your worst.  Christ is my health and salvation.” 

The good news is that we don’t have to feed the beast.  Instead, we can let the eternal truth of God in Christ feed us and make us whole.  We can let the one who has defeated the beast once and for all feed us and give us a life where power comes not from our mortal hands but from God Almighty. 

Ultimately, the good news gives us mortals the perspective we need.  The good news of Christ helps us see the bigger picture, helps us see that war and famine and disease and death do not have the final word.  God has given us reason to endure and persevere; God has given us the bigger picture in the person of Jesus Christ who rides out victoriously beyond the powers of this world that threaten our livelihood and leads us into a world where the power of temptation cannot hold a candle to the power we are given in eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord.  Amen.              

Nobody is Right, If Everybody is Wrong

Nobody is Right, If Everybody is Wrong

Proper 8, Year B, 2015

(link to scripture readings for day)

The Rev. Jack Alvey

Audio Version

One of my friends often tells why he joined the Episcopal Church.  Before the worship service, he went to the Sunday forum where members of the congregation were engaged in rigorous debate over the issues of the time.  My friend was a bit on edge for most of the class and, to be honest, couldn’t wait to check the Episcopal Church off his list before trying out another denomination.  Being polite, my friend endured the conversation.  However, something caught my friend off guard at the end of the discussion that changed the rest of his life. 

          At the end of class, the priest asked the group to stand and in a circle for prayer.  My friend remembers the priest giving thanks for those varying opinions saying that each voice was needed in the conversation.  Above all, my friend remembers the priest inviting the class to the Lord’s Table where their differences are reconciled through the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

          This prayer was enough to catch my friend’s attention and invite him into the mystery of faith.  He saw a different way of living in this world.  He saw away to live together in unity despite differences in opinion, theology, and political preference.  And this way of unity is made possible through the mystery of the Word made flesh—Jesus, God’s Son.

          As you have heard me quote before, Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby recently said about the Church, “We cripple our witness when we are not united.  But when we stand visibly united we release a witness into the world that is impossible to exaggerate. That is the way that we will see the world brought face to face with Jesus Christ.”

          While the Church often strives for unity, there is no doubt that the Church has crippled its witness to the gospel over the years—even the Episcopal Church.  The Church universal has broken and fractured too many times to count.  But God is faithful and continues to entrust his mission of reconciling the world to himself through the witness of the Church.  And some point we must wonder why?  After all these years of falling short?  Why is God still entrusting his truth to us? 

          From a certain point of view, it seems that the Church is more inept as ever to witness to the good news in response to what is going on in the world and in our culture.  For starters, too much of our energy is focused inward.  We constantly ask questions like, “How can we grow?”  “How can we raise enough money to keep the building running?” “How can we save the church?” 

And when we do focus outwardly, we focus on the sin of others.  We are better at pointing at everyone else’s sin instead of staring our own sin in the face.  And with the social media and mass media, how can we not be overwhelmed with the world’s sin?  The last couple of weeks have been evidence enough of the strife that is going on all over the place. 

For beginners, the face of evil and hate showed up in a 21 year-old who murdered 9 people in a church in Charleston.   And unlike other such mass shootings in our country, the aftermath of this shooting has resulted in highlighting our country’s division rather than our unity.  In addition to the Confederate Flag controversy, at least 7 predominantly black churches have burned in the southeast and three have been ruled arson.     

This past week the Supreme Court of the United States ruled that marriage between couples of the same sex is now constitutional.  This ruling has caused secular and Christian communities alike to celebrate and this ruling has caused many Christian and secular communities to lament.  This is more evidence that our country and Church is fractured.  Even more, our own Episcopal church is experiencing some dissension over the General Convention’s decision to allow liturgies for same-sex marriage.       

Looking outside our bubble, the reality of religious persecution for Christians in the Middle East at the hands of ISIS is ever present.  The Islamic State murder of Christians not only continues to highlight the chasm between Christians and Muslims in the Middle East but these killings also strain the relationship between Christians and Muslims in our own country. 

Some Christian leaders go as far to say that we are living in the end times.  Then again, Christian leaders since the days of St. Paul the Apostle have been saying likewise, and Jesus clearly says that no one knows the day or the hour—not even Jesus knows, only his Father in heaven knows. 

I don’t think it would be unreasonable to say that we are beyond gridlock in most aspects of our common life together—secular, social, political, religious.  It seems that few are willing to budge from their position on whatever issue they are passionate about in whatever arena they find themselves in the most.  In the church, I find this gridlock very troubling because these differences in opinion distract us from the mission of the gospel.  Like the Buffalo Springfield song that defined the late 60s says, “Nobody is right if everybody is wrong.” 

While I am not one to predict the end times, I do sense a strong call from God for the Church universal to repent.  Like a sports team who has lost their touch, it seems that the Church needs to go back to the fundamentals.  Like they say in golf, I think we have a bit of the shanks—Episcopalians included.  We need to go back to the basics—repent for the kingdom of God has come near. 

It is time to name honestly everything that divides us and how the Church is a part of the problem.  It is time to name honestly, like we promise to do in our Baptismal Covenant, the evil powers in this world that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God.  And we are only kidding ourselves, if we pretend that the evil powers of this world don’t come from the Church.       

Instead of pointing the finger at someone or something else for all the world’s problems, what if the Church took a good look at itself?  What if the Church had faith enough to say, “Gosh, we’ve really let our neighbors down and let God down?  We seem to be sharing more bad news than good news.  What if we are part of the reason why church membership is declining? We are not acting like the people that God has called us to be.”?  How powerful might this confession be to a world that is eager to cast blame, in a world that is obsessed with excuses and self-justification?   

Even more, what if we took a good look at the people we point our fingers at and those who point their fingers at us?  Like we promise to do in our Baptismal Covenant, what if we treated everyone with the dignity that we all have because we are all made in the image of God?” 

What might we see if we look beyond the finger?  Perhaps, a heart that is broken and angry and sad, a heart that is thirsty to be healed through the good news of Jesus Christ?  News that says, “You are called beyond your failure, you are called beyond the failure of the world, and even the Church and live a life where love is stronger than hate.”    

And lastly, what if we took seriously the truth that God is calling the Church, our church, to speak these truths on God’s behalf.  God is calling you and me to make the truth of God known in the world.  Yes, God has faith that you can do that!  I know that sound scary.   

In fact, one of our tradition’s greatest prophets, Ezekiel was just as terrified, if not more terrified, than you are to respond to God’s call to make known his truth to an “impudent and stubborn people.”  I know about impudent and stubborn people because I am one of them.  But Ezekiel faced the possibility of death while, in all likelihood, we do not—at least not a physical death—death of status or standing in our community—maybe. 

As scripture tell us, God gives Ezekiel confidence to grow into his new identity as prophet.  Ezekiel doesn’t necessarily grow more confident in himself.  Instead, Ezekiel grows more confident in his identity as one of God’s chosen people.  Ezekiel grows more confident that the Word of God is what will truly save people from the depths of despair and death.   

In today’s gospel lesson, we see Jesus give the same sense of confidence to his disciples whom he sends out two by two.  In essence, Jesus tells the disciples not to worry about whether or not the people receive the message or not—if they don’t believe, shake the dust off your feet at their door and move on.  Jesus isn’t sending his disciples out to sell a product. 

Instead, Jesus is calling the disciples to share news and not any news but good news.  Jesus is sending the disciples out to tell people that there is a different way to live in our broken and sinful world.  There is a way to live in peace and unity and that way is through Jesus Christ.  Jesus is sending the disciples out from a place of love—for God so loved the world.

In the same way that Jesus sent his disciples out two by two, he sends us out two by two to witness to the good news.  God has chosen you to share the good news.  As some have suggested, this is the Episcopal hour to witness to the truth of God.  It is our hour because our tradition was born out of a spirit of unity during a time of division and strife. 

Our tradition is a witness to how an encounter with the Almighty can break down the walls that divide.  Our witness reminds the Church universal that the most important thing isn’t about where you stand on an issue.  Rather, it is about kneeling and worshiping our risen Lord who only has the power to make us one. 

  Once again, the Episcopal Church witnessed to this truth last week when the House of Bishops debated the issue of same gender marriage in the Episcopal Church in light of the Supreme Court decision.  While the bishops did not come to a consensus or total agreement on the issue, they all stayed around the same table and recognized a power greater themselves at work in the conversation.

A friend of mine said it like this, “Perhaps there is no more hopeful message we can deliver to our church and our society than a display of unity in the midst of difference, and the value of dialogue over dismissal. The gift of the Anglican tradition is that our table is much more expansive than we would like to believe. What we have to remember is that it is not our table, but God’s table."    

At the end of the day, how can we mess up that kind of news?  How can we possibly fail when Jesus has already set the table and where an invitation doesn’t depend on your worthiness rather on your unworthiness and this is good news because aren’t we all unworthy? 

No matter how scary or impudent or stubborn they may look like on the outside, there is good news that all of our hearts long to hear.  God has chosen us to share news that has the power to make us one through the flesh and blood of Christ our Lord.  May we have the grace to share news that calls us beyond our sin and brokenness into a world where the only thing that really matters is the truth that God loves all his children beyond measure.  Amen.