Easter Day

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
April 8, 2012

Easter

In my own experience, when a loved one dies, the many plans that have to be made and details that require attention are a blessed distraction. On the home front, travel arrangements and childcare may need to be worked out, clothes have to be picked out and perhaps packed, meals have to be planned, transportation procured and lodging found, either for ourselves or for relatives and friends coming in. None of these are big deals in and of themselves, but when we are grieving, everything is a big deal. Then there are the details of the service itself. Date, time and place have to be set. People have to be notified. Professional services have to be arranged, flowers ordered, and perhaps a reception planned. All of those rituals can be comforting because they help us feel like life is at least somehow under control, even in the midst of death.

My guess is that Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome were also taking comfort in the rituals of death on that original Easter morning. The Sabbath rituals had perhaps offered some sense of comfort, but now the Sabbath was over. Jesus’ body needed to be anointed. The anointing of his body was one last offering of love the women could make for their teacher and friend. So just as soon as the sun came up, the women left for the tomb. Their walk was not without anxiety, however, as a large stone had been rolled against the tomb to seal the entrance once Jesus’ body had been placed inside. Who would roll away the stone for them?

In fact, the women’s journey to the tomb makes little sense whatsoever. The two Marys and Salome had gathered up expensive spices, left at dawn, and walked to the tomb, knowing full well that the tomb was sealed and they could not enter. But anyone who has ever grieved knows that sometimes our actions do not make a lot of sense.

The great surprise, of course, is that the stone has already been moved. I imagine the women were both surprised and dismayed at the same time. On the one hand, now the women can enter the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body as they had planned. On the other hand, who had gotten to the tomb before them and what was their intention?

Not only has the stone already been moved, but the tomb is empty, and a young man is sitting by the tomb with a message for the women. "Go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you." We expect the tomb to be empty; that’s why we are here this morning. The three women, however, had simply come in their grief to anoint a body for burial. They were seeking comfort in the rituals they know. Now there is a distinct change of plans. For us, the arrival of Easter Sunday is no big surprise. We have waited and planned for this celebration for weeks and months, and this date has been on the calendar for centuries, literally. For the women, however, the empty tomb comes as a great shock and they are alarmed. Most of us have been practicing Easter for our whole lives. The idea of an empty tomb was unprecedented to the women and utterly shocking.

So, while the women may have been terrified and amazed by the empty tomb, we are shocked and surprised by their response. We expect the women to leap for joy at the news that Jesus is risen and will meet them in Galilee. Instead they exhibit much more typical human behavior. When faced with something far outside the realm of normalcy, they run for their lives and say nothing to anyone. We came to church today expecting shouts of joy and flowers and happy disciples, maybe a little brass and a balloon or two. Instead we have three grieving women, taking comfort in the rituals, not sure how they will face the obstacles that confront them, and hearing from a stranger that Jesus has gone ahead of them to Galilee. Rather than rejoicing at this news, the women flee.

I have to tell you that this is my favorite Easter story. I find this story to be a more realistic understanding of the Easter message. The women are going about the work that needs to be done, finding comfort in the rituals of burying the dead, when they find the tomb empty and hear the news that Christ is risen. When the news sinks in, they flee in terror and amazement. The women take a lot of criticism in the commentaries for fleeing the scene and remaining silent. Their faith and their discipleship is called into question by the commentators. But if the women really understand that Jesus has been raised from the dead, that the bonds of death have been broken and the power of death has been overcome, then they understand that the world has been turned upside down. Now they live in a world where anything is possible and death no longer has the final work. If resurrection can happen, what else is possible? All of the rules are changed now. How do we live in a world like that? Terror and amazement seem to me a perfectly appropriate immediate response to this brand new reality. We know that the women did not keep their silence forever, because we are here. The shock value of resurrection may be lost on us all these years later, but the women understood that nothing would ever be the same. I think Mary, Mary and Salome are the ones who actually understand the enormity of the Easter message.

How do we live in a world in which Jesus is risen from the dead? We have the gift of hindsight, which the women did not have. The women kept walking to the tomb even though they had no idea how they would move the stone from the entrance to the tomb. We are called to keep walking toward tasks that seem impossible, knowing that there is no stone we must move by ourselves. The women were alarmed at the young man sitting in the entry to the empty tomb. We are blessed with the knowledge that the tomb is empty, but we can join the women in beholding the magnitude of what God has done for us in raising Jesus from the dead. The women fled from the tomb in terror and amazement at the news that Jesus was now in Galilee. If we stop and listen closely to the words of the young man, we, too, will be overwhelmed by the implications of the news that Jesus has been raised from the dead and that death no longer has the final word. Then we, like the women, will understand that there really is no stone, including death, that we must move by ourselves.

Amen.

Good Friday

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
April 6, 2012

Good Friday

Not too many stories tell us how the story will end before we finish the very first paragraph. But John’s gospel does exactly that. The gospel of John begins: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not over come it." In those few beginning verses, we hear of Jesus’ work with God in Creation, and of the life and light given to all people, and of the end, when the darkness could not put out the light.

John gives us these words to hold onto because tonight, by all appearances, the darkness has won. Jesus is dead, crucified as a common criminal. The soldiers have cast lots for his clothing. Jesus’ has entrusted his mother to the care of the beloved disciple. Jesus has said "I thirst" in order to fulfill the scripture. And now, we hear Jesus say "it is finished." The powers of darkness have done their worst and the darkness appears to have overcome the light.

In our own lives, darkness sometimes appears to have won. The death of Jesus on Good Friday can remind us of the death of loved ones, or of suffering we have endured, or a time when the light at the end of the tunnel seemed all but extinguished. In our prayers on Good Friday, we lift up those for whom the light may be very dim: the hungry and the homeless, the destitute and the oppressed, the sick, the wounded and the crippled, those who live in loneliness, fear, and anguish. On Good Friday, we recognize the terror of the darkness, and we hold in our hearts those places where the light appears to have been overcome.

On Good Friday, however, we hear the story of the Passion from John’s gospel, rather than from one of the other gospels. Last Sunday, on the Sunday of the Passion, we heard the passion story from Mark’s gospel and we heard Jesus ask God to take this cup from him, and we heard Jesus’ cry from the cross "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" But in John’s gospel, more than any of the other three, Jesus’ death is a gift freely given by Jesus. In John’s gospel, Jesus does not go to Gethsemane to pray and ask God to take this cup from him. Jesus says, with all confidence, as the soldiers arrive to arrest him, "Put your sword back into its sheath. Am I not to drink the cup that the Father has given me?" At Jesus’ trial, Jesus is in complete control of the interrogation, even to the point of causing Pilate to question the nature of truth. Even from the cross, in this gospel, Jesus is in control. In a most tender moment, he looks down from the cross at his mother and gives Mary to the disciple whom he loved to take as his own mother and gives the disciple whom he loved to Mary to take as her own son. When he says "I am thirsty," the gospel makes it clear that this is not to indicate weakness but to fulfill scripture. Once he has received the wine, Jesus says "It is finished" and bows his head and gives up his spirit. Jesus’ life is not taken from him. Jesus gives up his life as a gift and the light of the world enters the terror of the darkness.

Sometimes in our own lives, we must stand in the darkness and wait, trusting that God will act, but not knowing what that action will be. Tonight we gather, not to mourn a dead Jesus, but to stand in the darkness of the cross and wait, trusting that God will act. For we are promised from the beginning that "the light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome the light."

Amen.

Palm Sunday 2012

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
April 1, 2012

Palm Sunday

When I was a child, my mother would spend weeks, if not months, preparing for major holiday celebrations. Well before Thanksgiving, Christmas, or a major birthday, the guest list would be drawn up and the menu planned. The guest list was always something of a challenge. Our dining room table had chairs for four, but could seat 6 without much difficulty, 8 in a pinch, and 10 if we were creative. But my mother’s way of thinking was never "We can get 10 people around this table; who shall we invite?’ My mother’s thought was always "There will be 25 of us for dinner. The table seats 10. How are we going to make this work?" Then there was the matter of the menu and what could be made ahead and frozen, and what could not. As much cooking as possible would go on for days ahead of the celebration. Then there was the planning for the creative use of the stove, oven, and grill so that everything could be ready on time. Every detail was meticulously well organized, and with the exception of the time there was a power failure, everything always went off without a hitch. After weeks of planning and cooking, the guests would finally arrive, the eating and drinking would begin, and two hours later, the food and drink would be gone and the celebration would be over. The ratio of time spent preparing verses time spent partying was a matter of days to minutes. However, from the amount of time spent preparing, we knew what our mother valued: good food, and hospitality. Anyone who had not witnessed the weeks of preparation might have thought that good food and hospitality were easy to come by. Those of us who lived in the house all those weeks knew better.

Mark’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem reads about the same way as an account of one of my mother’s great holiday parties. Jesus spends eight verses preparing for his entry into Jerusalem. Only three verses describe the trip itself and of those three verses, most of two verses is spent quoting psalms. The planning Jesus did for this event seems to be at least equally important to the trip into Jerusalem itself. What do we learn about Jesus from all the verses leading up to the actual procession into Jerusalem?

The first thing Jesus does is arrange for a colt. Jesus sends two disciples off on this errand and says to them "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find there a colt that has never been ridden." Jesus knows exactly where the colt will be and that the animal has never been ridden. Why a colt? If Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is supposed to be a triumphant entry, riding a colt is a rather peculiar way to act triumphant. In fact, Jesus’ feet may well have drug the ground as he entered Jerusalem on the back of the young animal.

Then Jesus says "If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’" The people were used to having Roman soldiers co-opt their property on a moment’s notice. The promise that Jesus will return the animal is something new. Jesus is on a different kind of mission from one the Roman soldiers would typically engage. Jesus’ mission is not of a military nature. He has to borrow a colt. Jesus is not organizing an event that will highlight power and wealth, but an event that will show humility.

Next we hear that everything goes exactly according to plan. The disciples find the colt, respond to the bystanders’ query, and are allowed to take the colt. Jesus’ plan is coming off without a hitch.

If Jesus was planning a military procession into Jerusalem to satisfy the longings of those who wished for a Messiah to over throw the Romans, now would be the time to acquire some weapons. Instead, we hear that the people threw their clocks on the poor unsuspecting colt that has never been ridden. Then Jesus sat on the colt and the people spread their cloaks and leafy branches on the road. Quite frankly, this sounds like a recipe for disaster. One young animal, never ridden, Jesus sitting on cloaks on the colt, and riding over more cloaks and leafy branches. However, Jesus makes his way toward Jerusalem according to plan.

So we have Jesus, riding a colt, completely unarmed, traveling over streets of some sort that have been filled with cloaks and leafy branches. If this is some sort of military procession, there is little chance of success. But the people are undaunted. In fact, they are energized. They break into song, singing a piece of Psalm 118, which we sang this morning. "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord" which reads a lot like an enthronement psalm. They did not sing the line before that "Hosanna, Lord, hosanna! Send us now success," but that sentiment is at the heart of the people’s longing. Now is the moment the people have been longing for. Success is just around the next corner. Jesus is coming into Jerusalem like a mighty king, ready to take Jerusalem. Or is he? On a colt? Unarmed? Picking his way slowly over cloaks and branches? Once Jesus enters Jerusalem, he looks around, and then goes out to Bethany with the twelve. All that planning, all that work, to march into Jerusalem and all he does is look around and leave?

And so we are plunged into Holy Week. On the one hand, as disciples of Jesus, we know that we are called to walk this journey with the one who rode into Jerusalem on a colt to turn our notions of power and success upside down. On the other hand, I can identify with the crowds who say "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord" and the Psalmist who says "Hosanna, Lord, hosanna! Send us now success!" Can’t we just fast forward to Easter?

The truth is that Easter will come next Sunday whether we journey with Jesus or not. But if we leap from "Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord" to the great Easter acclamation which involves the use of the word we buried before Lent began, we are thinking like the crowds. We will move from the request for a great display of military power to the great display of God’s power without allowing our idea understanding of real power to be transformed. The details of the Palm Sunday story tell us that Jesus is about something other than claiming raw power. As we walk through the events of Holy Week, the mighty power of God will be revealed in ways that are consistent with the arrival in Jerusalem of an unarmed Messiah on the back of a colt.

Amen.

The Fifth Sunday in Lent

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 25, 2012

5 Lent B

One of my favorite passages in all of literature comes from the children’s book "The Velveteen Rabbit" by Margery Williams. Some of you have heard the passage before as I often use it in homilies at weddings. "What is real?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?" "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real." "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, who was always truthful. "When you are Real, you do not mind being hurt." "Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," the Rabbit asked, "or bit by bit?" "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because when you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

What is real? That is the question The Velveteen Rabbit asks the Skin Horse in this children's story. That question is also at the heart of our gospel lesson this morning. What is real?

What is real? This morning, we see some Greeks approach Philip and hear them say "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Word is out about Jesus by this point in John's gospel. Jesus has changed water into wine, cleansed the temple, fed the 5,000, healed a man born blind and raised Lazarus from the dead. News travels fast. So now, the Greeks approach Philip wanting to see Jesus. So, Philip finds Andrew, and together they go to find Jesus and tell him of the Greeks’ request.

Jesus’ response to this request borders on being rude. When Philip and Andrew tell Jesus that the two Greeks wish to see him, instead of saying "yes," or "no," or "how about tomorrow at 2," Jesus says "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" and goes on about seeds dying and bearing fruit, and so forth. What kind of answer is that for those who simply wanted to see Jesus?

What is real? My guess is that the Greeks wanted to see Jesus because they had heard about the miracles he had done, the people he had healed, the abundance of food he had created out of a few fish and loaves, and the man Lazarus he had raised from the dead. They wanted to meet Jesus, to talk with him, and to try to understand this man who could do such miraculous things. Perhaps they may even recognized that this man was from God, since no one could do such wonders apart from God. But those acts, incredible and wonderful as they are, are not what makes Jesus real.

What does make Jesus real? In response to the Greeks' request, Jesus offers three reflections on his death, and why the crucifixion and resurrection make Jesus real, rather than the miracles he has done. First, Jesus states a simple law of nature. In order for there to be more life, there must first be death. "Unless a single grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." In order for Jesus to be present in all times and in all places, to all people, he must die as one seed must die to produce much fruit. Secondly, real discipleship requires death to self-interest in order to have abundant life. "Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life." The reason this is true for Jesus’ followers is because it is true for the one they follow. In order to have more life, both now and forever, we, like Jesus, are called to give our lives away. And lastly, Jesus’ mission is to the world to draw all the world to himself, and it is in his death that this will happen. Jesus’ death will not prevent his mission from being accomplished. Quite the opposite; according to the gospel of John, Jesus’ death is necessary for his mission to be fulfilled.

Jesus death is real. It is not what the world considers real, however. It is not glossy or shiny or pretty and it most definitely will hurt. It is nothing like having things that buzz inside you or a stick out handle. But if Jesus is to bring all the world to himself, which is John's understanding of salvation, Jesus must be freed from this world through his death, resurrection and ascension. The message of Johns' gospel is that if Jesus is to be available and present to all believers in all places, at all times, and in all experiences, both good and bad, for Jesus to be real in real-time, he must die.

So, Jesus does give the Greeks a proper response, although perhaps not the response they were looking for. And if we, like the Greeks, wish to see Jesus, to witness what is real, we, too, must be willing to journey through these next two weeks, not leaping ahead to Easter, but walking with Jesus through his triumphant entry into Jerusalem, Maundy Thursday and his last supper with those whom he loves, his agony in the garden of Gethsemane, the betrayal by the disciples, his trial and crucifixion, his death and his burial in the tomb. We walk with Jesus, not by simply tagging along, but by looking at our own lives, our pains, our disappointments and hurts, our failures, the deaths we die daily and offering all of that to God for resurrection. We, with Jesus, offer the seeds of our lives to the ground, so that by God’s power those seeds can have new life and our lives can bear much fruit. By giving away our lives, we trust that we will have more life, and that through serving others, they, too, will see Jesus. By connecting our own lives with the death and resurrection of Jesus, we will we experience the power of Easter as something real, and we will see the resurrected Jesus.

Sir, we wish to see Jesus. The promise of the gospel is that through his crucifixion, death, and resurrection, we will see Jesus. And that, my friends, is real.

Amen.

The Fourth Sunday in Lent

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 18, 2012

4 Lent B

Last weekend, Don, Slocomb, Caldwell and I took a mini-vacation to Cincinnati. Since we only had two days, we did not want to spend a lot of time driving, and there is certainly plenty to see and do in Cincinnati. On Friday afternoon, we went to the Freedom Center-the Underground Railroad museum that chronicles the sin of slavery in this country and the efforts to move slaves by way of safe houses to freedom in Canada. The images and the stories were deeply disturbing as we were confronted with the cruelty one human can inflict upon another. The stories were also a testimony to tremendous hope and courage and the great trust people had in God and in each other as they made the very dangerous journey to their hoped for freedom.

On Saturday, we went to a museum of another sort. We went to the Creation Museum which depicts the Creation of the world in 7 days as told in the first chapter of Genesis as historical fact. Regardless of what we might think of that premise, the museum does bring the story alive and provides plenty of food for thought. After we had purchased our tickets, we were greeted at the entry to the first exhibit by a guide holding a very large snake. That is a very disconcerting way to enter a Creation museum. What kind of snake was this supposed to be? A Genesis Chapter 3 snake that tempted Adam and Eve? Or a Mark 16 snake where we are told that those who believe are able to handle snakes? I personally prefer not to handle snakes of any sort, but both of our grown children leapt at the chance to have a turn with the snake.

Today, however, we must do a bit of snake handling, scripturally if not literally, since the reading from Numbers is full of snakes, and in the gospel reading Jesus compares himself with one. The snake story in the book of Numbers is problematic on several fronts. First, when the people grumble against God and Moses, God sends poisonous serpents to bite the people and kill them. How many of us, when we find ourselves in a wilderness not of our own choosing, have never hurled a complaint or two towards God? And in the psalms, there are plenty of examples of complaints directed towards God. God’s response to the complaints of the Hebrews seems a bit drastic this morning. Secondly, we just heard the 10 commandments last week in the reading from Exodus, and the second commandment clearly prohibits the making of any idol. But in today’s reading from Numbers, God commands Moses to make a bronze serpent and put it on a pole so that anyone who looks at it shall live. That sounds a lot like an idol to me.

In God’s defense, we should probably note that this is not exactly the first time the Hebrew people have complained in the wilderness. Very early in their travels in the wilderness, the people complained that the water they had to drink was so bitter that they had nothing to drink. So God showed Moses a piece of wood he could throw in the water and make the water sweet to drink. Just ½ chapter later in the book of Exodus, the people complain to Moses that he has brought them out of Egypt, where at least they had food to eat, into the wilderness to starve to death. So, God gave them manna, bread from heaven, to satisfy their hunger. One chapter later, the people are thirsty again, and again accuse Moses of bringing them out of Egypt to kill them with thirst. And again, God provided the people with water, this time by telling Moses to strike a rock with his staff and water will come from the rock so the people can drink. Not long before our passage this morning, the people complain exceedingly about their lack of meat in the wilderness, and God does send a wind that brings them quails, but God also sends a plague along with the quails, so that doesn’t work out quite so well for the people. But for the most part, God has been exceedingly patient with the complaints of the Hebrew people. Until now.

Apparently God has had enough. This time, the people complain not just against Moses, but against God and Moses saying "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food." This is the final complaint we hear from the people in the wilderness and understandably so. God sent poisonous serpents, or snakes, and the snakes bit the people and many people died, so that the remaining people realized the error of their ways. At which point, God told Moses to make a serpent, put it on a pole, lift it up before the people, and all who look at it shall live. And they do. This works so well that the people keep the bronze serpent long after they have arrived in the Promised Land and some 500 years later King Hezekiah broke it into pieces because the people have come to worship the serpent because of its healing power.

In the wilderness, the Hebrew people are forced to deal with their dependence on God for food, water, safety, and yes, for deliverance from poisonous snakes. Every single time, God comes through. In the wilderness, the people learn that they can trust God, even when God’s patience is sorely tested because of their lack of trust. The bronze serpent alone does nothing for the people. The serpent does not heal them. Idols have no real power. But when they see the serpent raised on the pole, God’s intent is for them to be reminded of God’s healing power and trust that God will save them. In our own wildernesses, whether a Lenten wilderness, or the wilderness of grief, sickness, heartbreak, or whatever that wilderness may be, we are forced to deal with our dependence on God for endurance, comfort, healing, or other relief and to learn to trust the God will save us, even if we don’t know what that salvation will look like. Over and over again in Scripture, faith is a matter of trust in God, not necessarily right belief about God.

In the gospel lesson this morning, we hear Jesus say "Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life." Jesus is not saying that whoever gets the best score on the correct belief test will be saved. The cross itself looked like the very essence of the wilderness-a place where God could not possibly be present and where the powers of death had done their worst. But Jesus is telling his disciples, and us, to look at the cross, to feel that wilderness, and trust that out of death, God will bring life. Then we can trust that, in the midst of the snakes in the wilderness of our own lives, God will also act to bring life.

Amen.

The Third Sunday in Lent

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 11, 2012

3 Lent B

Several years ago now, when our son Slocomb was looking at colleges, he and I made a trip to Charlotte, North Carolina to see Davidson College. In addition to Davidson’s many fine academic programs, there were two other stand out features for Slocomb. One was the fact that laundry service is provided as part of room and board. Can’t beat that when looking for a college! The other feature of note was the honor code that every student was required to sign. The Davidson College honor code says, in part: "Every student shall be honor bound to refrain from cheating (including plagiarism). Every student shall be honor bound to refrain from stealing. Every student shall be honor bound to refrain from lying about college business. Every student shall be honor bound to report immediately all violations of the Honor Code of which the student has first-hand knowledge; failure to do so shall be a violation of the Honor Code."

While the Honor Code sounds like a lot of rules designed to keep college students in line, and while there are little signs posted all over campus to remind people of what constitutes an infraction of the honor code, such as taking books from the library without checking them out, or taking an extra packet of ketchup from the dining hall without paying for it, the result of the Honor Code is actually a community in which people experience great freedom. The students are trusted. The community is safe. People can be who they are without fear of ridicule. Students can do their best knowing that no one will get ahead by cheating. The atmosphere is friendly and people are genuinely concerned for one another. A particular kind of community is created when people covenant with each other to live by a certain code of behavior.In the reading from Exodus, we hear about a different honor code when we hear God say "I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me." Earlier in the book of Exodus, we are told that while the Israelites were in slavery in Egypt, they were forced to work until their lives were bitter, that Moses could not know his own mother except through her cunning and deceit, and that Moses killed an Egyptian who was beating a Hebrew. The 10 commandments were not what ordered their lives in Egypt. God gives the Israelites the 10 commandments once the people are out of Egypt, not as another form of bondage, but to order their lives in freedom. The Israelites are now free to worship no other God. They are free to worship no idol, to keep holy the Sabbath, to honor their parents, and to live as a community where people do not kill, nor commit adultery, nor steal, nor covet nor bear false witness. In the Psalm this morning, we hear those commandments described as reviving the soul, as more to be desired than gold, and sweeter than honey. The commandments are certainly described by the psalmist as a gift and not as burden or a new form of bondage.

So, what happens in the Temple this morning when Jesus takes a whip and drives the money changers away? I believe that the money changers in the Temple thought they were doing what the Scriptures command. Based on the Hebrew Scriptures and their understanding of the Law, the Jewish people of the first century had a complicated system of sacrifices that they were to make at the Temple. Sacrifices were made as a means of worshiping God, giving thanks to God, or to ask God’s forgiveness for a wrongdoing. Faithful people came for miles to worship at the Temple and offer their sacrifices as required by the Scriptures. In order for those sacrifices to be worthy of sacrifice to God, they could not be carried for miles on dusty roads, in the heat, before being offered. So, appropriate animals were sold at the Temple so that people could buy them when they arrived. The only problem with purchasing animals at the Temple is that the coins of the secular realm had the image of the emperor on them and could not be used in the Temple, which was the realm of God. So, the secular coins had to be exchanged for Temple currency, hence the money changers. And, since we all have to make a living, there was a certain mark-up, both for the animals and the currency exchange. But the intent was to make it possible for worshipers to offer their sacrifices at the altar of God, as the law of God required. But according to the story, Jesus was not impressed.

Jesus’ concern was that the law had been given to the people as a way of living in freedom and now that same law had become a new form of bondage. The people had become slaves to a system that created financial hardship for some, and financial gain for others. One person’s challenge to make acceptable sacrifices to God had become another person’s opportunity for profit. The faith that was once based in the gift of freedom from slavery was now rooted in a system that once again enslaved God’s people.

During Lent, Jesus barges into our own lives as individuals and our life together as a community of faith to challenge us to live as people who have been set free. The psalmist’s response to the giving of the Commandments was deep and profound gratitude for all that God had done for the Hebrew people. Profound gratitude may seem like an odd response to Lent as we give up certain practices or take on new disciplines, but freedom and gratitude require a discipline of their own. This morning, Jesus challenges us to live as a community of faith that is deeply rooted in that freedom and gratitude. God gave the Hebrew people the gift of 10 commandments to create a community that could live together in freedom. Jesus chased the money changers out of the temple because they had distorted the freedom God had won for them. In Lent, and always, Jesus calls us to live as people who understand that our freedom in Christ is more to be desired than gold, and sweeter than honey. If all of our actions, both as individuals and as a community, are ordered by the gratitude of people who understand that we have been set free, we will more fully be a community that loves God with all our hearts and loves our neighbor as ourselves.

Amen.

The Second Sunday in Lent

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
March 4, 2012

2 Lent B

Someone asked me this week what name I would choose if I could have any name I wanted. The question gave me pause, since I have really never thought about changing my name. I am named for my grandmother’s mother, who went by "Lottie," the shortened form of Charlotte, and I share my name with my dad’s first cousin who is also my god mother. As a child, I was the only one in my class with my first name, which I rather liked. There were multiple Cathy’s, Denise’s, and Emily’s, but no other Charlotte. There was no confusion, for better or worse, when the teacher said my name. Until the last quarter of my last year in college, I was never in a class with anyone else named Charlotte and I was just fine with that. As an adult, I have had one very good friend by the same name but that has really been all. So, the thought of changing my name to something else and having to choose a new one caught me up short and made me wonder what that would mean.

This morning, we hear Abraham get a new name. The name change occurs in the context of the outrageous promise God makes to Abram. The promise is so outrageous, that we hear no response from Abram when his name becomes Abraham. Abraham is probably too concerned with how God will make him the ancestor of a multitude of nations to be terribly concerned about the addition of a mere syllable to his name! Thus far, Abraham is 99 years old and has only one heir, a son named Ishmael, whose mother is one of the servants. God says to Abraham "I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you." All God asks of Abraham is that Abraham walk before God and be blameless. Then, God changes Abraham’s wife’s name from Sarai to Sarah and promises to give her a son in her equally old age, an equally outrageous promise.

In the gospel lesson, we hear Jesus make an even more outrageous promise. We hear Jesus tell the disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised, and we see Peter take Jesus aside and begin to rebuke him. When Jesus says "Get behind me, Satan," that is more like name calling than a name change. Jesus has already changed Peter’s name from Simon to Peter earlier in the gospel. Peter, however, thinks the outrageous part of Jesus’ teaching is the part about suffering and dying, because Messiahs simply don’t do that. Messiahs lead, conquer the oppressor, and bring liberation to the people. They don’t suffer and die. The part about rising from the dead is so outrageous that Peter doesn’t even hear those words, which is understandable. No one had ever risen from the dead. Ever. But Jesus is telling the disciples that not only will he suffer and die, but that his death is not the end of the story. After 3 days he will rise again. Even God’s promise to Abraham seems tame when compared with Jesus’ promise to the disciples.
Then Jesus says a curious thing to the disciples. Jesus says "If any want to become my followers let them deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me." What on earth does Jesus mean by that?

Crucifixion was a common means of execution in the first century Roman world, and those to be crucified often had to carry their own crosses to their place of crucifixion. The image of discipleship that Jesus offers here is, quite frankly, horrifying. Why would anyone want to pick up their cross and follow him? Even in our own culture, when we hear the phrase "someone has such a cross to bear," we usually think of illness, financial disaster, family problems, or some other grave misfortune that has fallen upon the unlucky person. So when we hear Jesus say "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me," the image that often comes to mind is of someone having to pick up all their misfortunes, all their trials and tribulations, and haul them up on their shoulders in order to follow Jesus. While that is obviously less gruesome than carrying a cross in the first century, we still are left with a picture of discipleship that is anything but appealing.

However, in another place, in another gospel, Jesus says "Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will refresh you. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." When Jesus says "take up your cross and follow me," might he mean something different than either having to carry our own means of execution to our grave or having to hoist all our burdens onto our backs in order to follow him?

At every baptism, when the water is blessed, we pray "We thank you, Father, for the water of baptism. In it we are buried with Christ in his death. By it we share in his resurrection. Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit." Afterwards, each newly baptized person is marked with oil in the sign of the cross and these words are said, usually using the person’s name: "Charlotte, you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever." In baptism, we become joined to the crucifixion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. We are marked as Christ’s own forever. In baptism, we are given Christ’s name as Christians and we are given the cross of Christ to carry as our own.

If we believe that Jesus means for us to pick up all of our own burdens, heave them on our backs, and carry them all by ourselves in order to be Jesus’ disciples, we are thinking like Peter. We are focusing only on Jesus’ words about suffering and dying. We are not hearing the most important part, which is the outrageous promise that after three days he will rise again. At his baptism, Jesus heard the voice of God say "You are my Son, the beloved" and then he was led into the wilderness for 40 days to figure out what it means to be the Son of God. The 40 days of Lent are our time to think and pray about what it means to be people who are called to take up the cross of Christ and follow Jesus’ outrageous claim that death will not have the final word. What does it mean to be people of hope in the midst this week’s violence in Chardon, people of light in the midst of the natural disasters of Friday afternoon, and people who know that no one has to carry their burdens all by themselves? We take up the cross of Christ and follow Jesus because in the midst of all evidence to the contrary, we believe that God’s outrageous promise is true and that life will always have the final word.

Amen.

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The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
February 19, 2012

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

Every year, I look forward to this particular celebration at Christ Church. Our worship on the last Sunday after the Epiphany lacks the poignancy of All Saints Sunday, or the utter weirdness of Christmas in July, two of my other favorite feast days. But the Burial of the Alleluias has a rich liturgical drama, as we come forward at the end of the service to put our Alleluias in the tomb where they will stay until Easter. Today we sing the great Alleluia hymns, we bury the alleluias, we feast at coffee hour, and march resolutely on toward Ash Wednesday with a sweet detour through Shrove Tuesday. As we sing the hymns this morning and hear the story of Jesus’ transfiguration, I do sometimes feel like I am gathering up strength to conquer the obstacle that lies between today and Easter- the obstacle of Lent. If I soak up enough good music, get one last good look at the beautiful vestments that adorn the church, enjoy the lovely silver vessels, and get the alleluias out of my system I will have the strength to endure, if not conquer, Lent.

So, given that I have a tendency to treat preparation for Lent a bit like some one else might prepare to run a marathon, I am caught up short by the story of Elijah’s ascent in a whirlwind into heaven put together with the story of Jesus’ transfiguration. Clearly the two stories are paired together in the lectionary because they have much in common. Both are stories of great theophanies, or appearances of God. In one, God appears as a chariot of fire and horses of fire to take Elijah up into heaven. In the other, Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus as he is transfigured and the voice of God is heard from a cloud. In both, there is the command to keep silent. When the great company of prophets tells Elisha that the Lord will take his master away from him, Elisha says "Yes, I know. Keep silent." As Jesus comes down the mountain with Peter, James, and John, Jesus tells the disciples to tell no one about what they have seen, until after the Son of Man has risen from the dead. Three times Elijah tries to spare Elisha the sight of Elijah’s departure and three times Elisha says "As the Lord lives and as you yourself live, I shall not leave you." Before too long, we will hear Peter promise not to desert Jesus, but then, unlike Elisha, do the opposite and deny Jesus three times. Today we hear Elisha ask to inherit a double share of Elijah’s spirit. In the next chapter of Mark’s gospel, we will hear James and John ask to sit one at Jesus’ right hand and one at Jesus’ left hand in his glory. In this short story from 2 Kings, the parallels abound between the story of Elijah and Elisha, and story about Jesus and the disciples in the rest of Mark’s gospel.

What are we to make of these parallels? Elisha, after all, is not the Messiah, and Jesus is not just a great prophet. Elisha will continue the prophetic ministry of Elijah and will do many miracles over the course of his life until he dies on his bed in his own home. Jesus will come down the mountain and will continue to teach and to heal, but he will keep moving toward Jerusalem and the cross.

Perhaps the various parallels between these two stories actually serve to point us to a greater parallel. Elisha has seen God in the chariot of fire and has received a double mantle of Elijah’s spirit. Jesus has been transfigured with Moses and Elijah and heard the voice of God say "This is my son, my beloved; listen to him." But both men know that neither of these magnificent experiences of God will give them the power they need to overcome the obstacles ahead. Elisha is now the leader of the prophets of Israel, a highly unpopular role in times when the people are straying from God. Jesus will now begin his journey to Jerusalem. Neither the vision of God in the chariots of fire nor the voice of God from the cloud will provide any special skills, strength, or protection to meet the challenges to come. Neither Elisha nor Jesus, nor the disciples for that matter, are gathering up strength to overcome what lies ahead. The sheer memory of the chariots of fire and the transfiguration are not what will provide them with future sustenance. What those powerful visions of God do provide to Elisha, Jesus, and the disciples if they are paying attention, is an experience of the power of God which is absolutely trust worthy. Neither Elijah nor Jesus move ahead because they think they alone have the strength to conquer anything. They are able to move forward into the unknown because they know they can trust in the strength of God to provide all that they need.

So today, as we sing the great hymns and bury the alleluias, we are not trying to inhale a 40 day supply of glory to sustain us through Lent. We are not, actually, gathering up enough strength to run a Lenten marathon. What we are doing is experiencing for ourselves a bit of the power and goodness of God that will sustain us not only in the season of Lent, but whenever we find ourselves in the wilderness. In Lent we are reminded of our vulnerability as humans, and of the great goodness and power of God on whom we depend. We are not called to sustain our weary selves through the holy season of Lent. We are called to rely on God to sustain us. Today, we bury the Alleluias, remembering that in our Burial Service we say "Even at the grave, we make our song ‘Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia." We sing, we bury, and we feast today because we know that God has the power to carry us through the wilderness and God has the power to bring new life.

Amen.