5 Easter A

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
May 18, 2014

5 Easter A

A number of years ago, Bruce Freeman, a priest in Cincinnati, came to Christ Church to talk with us about church growth.  Our question for Bruce was "What do we need to be and do at Christ Church in order to reach more people?"  His question back to us was "Who are you?"  According to Bruce, the real issue is not trying to be or do something else.  The real issue is figuring out who we are and then being our very best and most authentic self.  This conversation set the vestry off on a quest to figure out who we are at Christ Church and what we value.  Over a period of months, by looking at our ministries where we find energy and joy, four basic values emerged: Education, Outreach, Worship, and Hospitality.  Then the question became "How do we seek and serve Christ in all people through these areas in the most effective ways possible?"  Not surprisingly, you surfaced those very same values in the self-study while I was away.  Over and over again, survey responses expressed interest in finding new ways to engage our neighborhood, or asked for more Bible study and other forms of adult education, or want more all parish activities, or said that worship along with its various components is one of the primary reasons you came and stayed at Christ Church.  Our identity as people who practice Christianity as Episcopalians is around a church that is committed to the practice of worship, education, outreach, and hospitality.

         The gospel lesson we just read is most often heard at funerals.  When are hearts are troubled and grieving, we are comforted when we hear Jesus say "Do not let you hearts be troubled."  As we grieve the loss of a loved one, we hear Jesus say that he has gone ahead to prepare a place for us. In a world that offers many choices and options for what we believe and how we live our lives, we are reassured when we hear Jesus say "I am the way, and the truth, and the life."  We know that we will not ultimately be lost, or led into falsehood, and that death will not have the final say.

At funerals, we stop once Jesus says "I am the way, and the truth, and the life."  We stop before Jesus says "No one comes to the father except through me."  For many years, Christ Church has participated in an Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, where members of the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim faith communities come together to give thanks to the God we all share.  Christ Church has long been an active participant in Interfaith Hospitality Network, where congregations representing different faiths come together for the work we are all called to do: offering hospitality to those without homes or jobs.  And at Christ Church, we have families whose children and grandchildren have married members of other faiths.  In light of our many interfaith relationships, what do we make of Jesus' words "No one comes to the Father except through me?"  Jesus' words sound exclusive and harsh. Is Christianity really about who is in and who is out or who is saved and who is not?

This passage is set in the midst of Jesus' farewell to his disciples.  Jesus is preparing his disciples for his death.  How are the disciples to live once Jesus is gone?  How are they to live as disciples of the crucified and risen one?  When times are difficult, how will the disciples know that their life as followers of Jesus is worth the suffering they will endure?  These are significant questions for Christians in the late first century.  Most, if not all, of the eyewitnesses to Jesus have died.  Jerusalem has fallen to the Romans.  The chosen people of God are no longer an independent nation.  There is great tension between Jews who believe that Jesus is the Messiah, and Jews who still wait for the Messiah.  This tension creates strife and dissension in the synagogues.  Christians were not welcome in the Roman world, and Christian Jews were not welcome in the synagogues.  Living a faithful life was not easy.  The questions and the doubts outnumbered the answers and the faith.

The crucial question for late first century Christians was not who was saved and who was not.  The crucial question for first century Christians was one of identity.  What, exactly, does it mean to be a follower of Jesus?  Jesus is addressing the question of identity in this gospel reading.  Jesus is speaking to his disciples, not the multitudes.  Jesus tells the disciples that as Christians, they are the ones who believe that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  As Christians, they are the ones who come to the Father through the Son.  They are the ones who believe that in Jesus they have met God.  And they are the ones who believe that they have a relationship with God that is not ended by death.  The great gift of this passage is that Jesus spells out very clearly what it means to be a Christian.  Jesus is  not answering questions about Hindus, Buddhists, or Jews who still await the coming of the Messiah.  Jesus' concern is certainly not about Muslims since they did not come on the scene for another 600 years or so.  The question about the validity of other faiths is simply not Jesus' question.  Jesus wants to be very clear about what it means to believe in him and make very sure that his disciples know who they are as Christians.

In many ways, our situation as 21st century Christians is not all that different from our first century brothers and sisters.  There are many faiths being lived out in this country, and only a fraction of the people attend church on any given Sunday.  There are many competing claims on our lives on Sunday morning and through out the week.  Not only have all the eyewitnesses to Jesus died, 2000 years later Jesus has still not returned.  The question of how we live in Jesus' absence is as pressing as it was in the 1st century.  What is our distinctive identity as Christians, as Christians who practice the faith as Episcopalians, and who do so in the context of 21st century Springfield, Ohio?  What does it mean to live as Easter people, people who celebrate Jesus' presence in the midst of his absence, in the Good Friday world around us?.  On the one hand, the answers now are the same as they were in the first century.  Our identity is as a community of people who know Jesus as the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  We are a community of people who come to the Father through the Son.  We believe that in Jesus, we meet God.  We believe that we have a relationship with God that is not ended by death.  On the other hand, the way that we, as Episcopalians in Springfield, Ohio, live that faith is unique and calls for us to use our specific gifts in a creative way to be those Easter people as we engage the challenges of the world around us.

The gift of identity is a powerful gift.  When we really know who we are, we can enter into genuine conversation with people of other faiths, or, perhaps more importantly, people of no faith.  We can walk with people and listen deeply to their stories because we know our own story.  We can tell people about our church because we know who we are as a faith community.  Jesus seeks not to condemn those who are outside of the church, but to make sure that those of us within the church know who we are and what we believe. In the first century and in the 21st century, knowing who we are is the first step in reaching out to others.
Amen.

4 Easter A

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
May 11, 2014

4 Easter A

Recently, I read the novel "The Invention of Wings" by Sue Monk Kidd.  I have read and enjoyed her other novels and this one was recommended by a friend who reading recommendations I trust.  So, I downloaded the book onto my Kindle for what I thought would be some light reading before bedtime.  With a name like "The Invention of Wings," I figured the story line must be about butterflies, or aviation, or birds, or something similar that would make for gentle reading.  I was so wrong.  "The Invention of Wings" is the story of Sarah Grimke, the abolitionist daughter of a slave holding family in South Carolina, and a girl named "Handful," the slave Sarah was given as a gift for her 11th birthday.  The chapters of the book go back and forth between chronicling the life of Sarah and that of "Handful."  The first agonizing and sickening description of the torture endured by slaves at the hands of their owners comes just pages into the book.  I could only read a chapter or two at a time before I had to put the book down, able to stomach no more, and reading before bed was out of the question.  Sorrow and pain are woven  with hope and courage through out the story, which is told masterfully, but the read was difficult nonetheless.

The story of Sarah and Handful was on my mind, then, when I read our passage from I Peter this morning.  On this Good Shepherd Sunday, which happens also to be Mothers' Day this year, we hear the wonderful description of the early church from the book of Acts, the beloved 23rd psalm, and a gospel reading about Jesus the Good Shepherd.  And we hear a reading from I Peter that in essence tells us that it is a credit to endure pain while suffering unjustly.  The intent of this passage was to tell first century Christian slaves that it is a credit to them when their non-Christian masters beat them unjustly.  Is the writer of I Peter condoning the kind of cruelty inflicted on Handful and her mother by Sarah's parents?  How many people have endured violence because Scripture says that it is a credit to them if they endure pain while suffering unjustly?  What are we to do with this reading from Scripture?

Fortunately, the other three readings this morning give us a context for hearing the passage from I Peter.  These readings make it clear that God's will for humankind in no way includes being victims or perpetrators of violence. In the reading from Acts, we hear about a community of Christians who held all things in common so that no one would be in need. In the 23rd Psalm, the psalmist describes God as the shepherd who walks with God's people even in the valley of the shadow of death.  In the psalm, the shepherd protects the sheep, guides the sheep, and comforts the sheep.  Lastly, the gospel lesson contrasts the thief who comes only to steal and destroy, acts of violence, with the Shepherd who comes to give life, and give it abundantly.  The Shepherd calls the sheep by name, and the sheep follow him.  The sheep will run from a stranger because they do not know the voice of strangers.  Again, the Shepherd protects the sheep and gives them life.  Jesus is that Shepherd, and Jesus leads the sheep into abundant life, not into deliberate suffering.

Not only do these three passages oppose violence and injustice, but the overwhelming evidence of Scripture is that these actions and the suffering they create are abhorrent to God.  The God who led the Hebrew people out of slavery in Egypt is not likely to condone slavery for another group of people.  The prophet Micah called upon God's people to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.  Isaiah  implored the people to maintain justice and do what is right.  Amos said "let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever flowing stream."  Jesus preached in the beatitudes that "those who hunger and thirst for righteousness shall be filled" and drew on the words of Isaiah to launch his ministry saying that he has been anointed to proclaim release to the captives and to let the oppressed go free.  The clear call of Scripture is to engage in the work of ending injustice and violence in the world. Any use of I Peter to justify violence or to expect anyone to endure unjust suffering to gain God's approval or build character is simply wrong.  Having said that, however, is there anything constructive we can take from I Peter?

The reading from Acts describes an idealistic Christian community.  The psalm describes the Shepherd as the one who will spread a table before us in the presence of our enemies, and the gospel describes Jesus as the shepherd who has come that we may have life and have it abundantly.  However, the sad fact is that Christian slaves in the first century and American slaves in the 18th and 19th centuries did not have tables being spread before them in the presence of their cruel masters, no one was sharing all that they had with them, and if they were going to have life and have it abundantly, it would most likely be in the next life, not this one.  The sad fact is that people today suffer unjustly for a variety of reasons, whether the unjust distribution of food and other goods of society, or because of unjust employers, or because of violent family members,or because of human trafficking, or in other parts of the world, because of ethnic cleansing, genocide, the kidnaping of young girls, and not hunger but starvation.  The list goes on and on.

Given the overwhelming evidence in Scripture that God opposes injustice and suffering and calls us to work for justice and righteousness, and given that we know that injustice and suffering occurs in every age, in it's own odd way, I Peter provides hope for people in unjust situations that seem utterly hopeless.  Whatever the cause of undeserved suffering, I Peter reminds the reader that unjust suffering connects the sufferer with Christ's suffering which makes that suffering holy.  Not good, or desirable, or painless, and certainly not pleasing to God, but holy. In that connection, the Good News is proclaimed that nothing, no matter how unjust, has the power to separate a person from the love of God.   I Peter is dealing with an ugly reality; a reality that could easily extinguish faith in the Good Shepherd or the love of God.  The overwhelming evidence of Scripture is that God abhors that reality and calls us to act on that abhorrence. But I Peter seeks to bolster the faith of those who suffer unjustly by reminding them of their deep connection with Jesus' own unjust suffering, and that no suffering, no matter how unjust, has the power to destroy the love of God.

                                                                                                                             Amen.

The Road to Emmaus-3 Easter

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Episcopal Church
May 4, 2013

Road to Emmaus-3 Easter C

When I was in England last month, my traveling partner Anne Reed and I stayed mostly in guest houses.  Guest houses are dorm like accommodations with a shared bath down the hall and a provided breakfast.  I have to say up front that I am not a big fan of the shared bath down the hall-it is a bit too much like camping for me. But the price was right and I am an early riser, so I adapted.  My dislike of the shared bathroom was more than offset by the great conversations I had with strangers over breakfast.  Sitting around a breakfast table at a seminary or church run guest house for 45 minutes with total strangers provides two options.  Eat in silence or get to know some strangers. I opted for the latter, not really being one to eat in silence when there are people to talk with.  Around those tables I heard stories I would probably not have otherwise heard. An odd little community was formed each morning before we bid each other good day and each left for our own adventures.  The human resources director at one of the great cathedrals shared her struggles with how to balance the church industry with the gospel.  A bishop shared the joys and challenges of being the required "on call" bishop for the quite secular Parliament.  Another person told the story of his life as a prison warden.  The community that was formed each morning would likely never exist outside of those 45 minutes, yet bread was broken together and in the midst of our fellowship, I would say that the Risen Christ was present as total strangers shared the joys and struggles of their lives.

Typically when I return to Christ Church from being away, Jesus and the lectionary offer us some gem like "If you want to be my disciple, you must hate your mother and father, brother and sisters."  So, I was thrilled to look up the readings for today and find the story of the Road to Emmaus where Jesus is known to the disciples in the breaking of the bread.  You know that I love meal stories! This morning, we hear Cleopas and his companion tell a stranger the sad story of their day.  The two disciples are baffled that this stranger walking with them seems not to have heard about the things that have taken place.  The stranger then interprets to them everything the scriptures say about the Messiah, and apparently their hearts burned within them as Jesus taught, but still they did not recognize him.  Not until Jesus is at the table with them, takes some bread, blesses, breaks, and gives the bread to them do the two disciples recognize Jesus.  And Jesus disappears.

On the surface, this story seems quite straightforward.  The Risen Christ is made known to the disciples through the breaking of bread over supper.  The story  reminds us both of the presence of the Risen Christ here at this table, and of the way the Risen Christ can be known in an ordinary  meal eaten around a regular table with fellow travelers, whether friend of stranger.

However, if we stop there, I believe we short change this remarkable story.  When Jesus asks "What are you discussing with each other as you walk along?" the discouraged disciples proceed to tell him about the devastating events of the last days. Then Cleopas says these four little words "But we had hoped."  "But we had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel."  How often have we said or heard those same four words:"But we had hoped the interview would go better," Or "But we had hoped for a little more time," or "But we had hoped the relationship would flourish."  In the midst of the kind of grief and despair Cleopas and his fellow traveler felt, all they knew were dashed hopes, and they were surprised that this stranger seemed to know nothing of their shattered world.

We will not all have our "But we had hoped"despair answered by an experience of Jesus on the road to Emmaus.  As Christians, we are offered comfort and hope in the body of Christ we share in this place, and in the fellowship of fellow travelers gathered around a table.  We hear the Easter story and know that suffering and death do not have the last word, that there is no stone that we must move by ourselves, and we are reminded that nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God.  But how do we know that?  And how to we respond to the "But we had hoped" despair in the hungry, hurting world around us?

Here is what Jesus did in response to the "But we had hoped" despair of Cleopas and his companion.  Jesus walked with the two grief stricken disciples.  Jesus listened to their story.  Jesus shared his story, which in his case just happens to be the story of Scripture.  Jesus stayed with them when invited, sat at their table with them, and broke their bread with them.  Sara Miles, an Episcopal laywoman and author of the book "Take this bread" writes in an essay for "The Daily Episcopalian"  that the most important word in Scripture is the word "with." As in "The Word was with God or "His name shall be Emmanuel-God with us." Or "The word became flesh and dwelt with us." Or, "Lo, I am with you always."  When I think about my own story, how did I come to belief that suffering and death do not have the final word, or that there is no stone I must roll away by myself, or that nothing can separate us from the love of God?  That happened through people who walked with me, listened, shared their story with me, and the bread broken with me in all kinds of table fellowship.  How do we respond to the "But we had hoped" of the world around us, whether each other or people we have not yet met?  If we use the model Jesus offers, we walk with them, listen, share our own story, and share a meal on their terms, not ours.

The story of the road to Emmaus calls us to walk with each other and with those in the world around us, to listen, to share out stories, to break bread with each other and those we have not met yet.  The promise of this gospel story is that when we walk with each other, when we walk with the guests who come through these doors, when we walk with those we want to serve, we walk the Road to Emmaus and we will walk with the Risen Christ.
Amen.