Homily: 2nd Sunday after Trinity, Sunday, June 21, 2009

I invite you to take a few moments to consider all the things that we can see in God’s creation, and consider: what things invoke in you a kind of indescribable awe and wonder? What are those things that make you stop in your tracks, and realize that you are in the presence of indefinable mysteries, wonders which defy explanation? C.S. Lewis said of Tolkien’s work “Here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron.” What for you has that same kind of effect?

There were many times when, living in Montana, we had the opportunity to hike in the glorious Glacier National Park and witness those “beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron.” If I tried to put into words what it is like to hike the ridges along Logan’s Pass, or to watch the many cascading waterfalls at Avalanche Lake, I would fall woefully short. You just need to go, see for yourself, and take off your shoes in deference to the holiness of the place.

Agur, writing at the end of the book of Proverbs, mentions four things that, for him, had the same sort of effect. He writes:

Three things are too wonderful for me; four I do not understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a serpent on a rock, the way of a ship on the high seas, and the way of a man with a virgin.

Without suggesting at all that Agur missed something, I would add my own fifth thing that is “too wonderful for me” that “I do not understand”: and that it the process of birth.

Think about it: who is not fascinated by birth? We’re talking about new life coming into existence. Every time Kristie was pregnant with our kids, I could not get over the thought that God used our love to bring into existence these souls, these little images of God who will exist forever. I still can’t get over it.

Not only is birth wonderful and full of unspeakable mysteries, but let’s face it: it’s messy. Just because it’s beautiful, doesn’t mean it’s clean and tidy. It’s anything but.

Now, there are some parents who, fascinated as they are with the birthing process, want to video-tape the delivery of their child. If any of you are out there, more power to you. That’s just not me. To me, the moment is holy and not conducive to the use of that kind of technology. It’s the kind of thing that’s better remembered than recorded. Not only would I be uncomfortable watching my own wife’s delivery, I would be uncomfortable watching any other wife’s delivery, even if the woman’s identify was unknown to me(as, for instance, in those videos that they show to prospective dads in childbirth classes). I wouldn’t want to record my own wife’s holy moment, and I simply wouldn’t want to peek in on anyone else’s holy moment either.

Now, with animals, that’s a different story. My family is getting a Beagle puppy soon; and on YouTube recently I watched a short video of a Beagle momma giving birth to her pups. Absolutely fascinating. Beautiful. But, at the same time, it was messy.

Not only is the process of birth beautiful and mysterious, and messy, but there is this interesting feature about it: when you tinker with the process, it can get downright ugly. As our technological prowess grows, so too does the temptation grow to tinker with the mysteries of conception and birth through eugenics, genetic engineering, inbreeding, and cloning. Modern man is trying desperately to create the “ideal man” through this kind of tinkering: for some, the ideal of family planning is to pick out, ahead of time, your child’s eye and hair color, build, IQ level, the works. Such attempts to break into the mysteries of God’s universe will, invariably, produce not happy, ideal men, but rather more misery.

Here’s the thing about birth, then: every time something is born, whether a new tree shoot, or new puppy, or new divine-image-bearing human, we are reminded over and over again that our origin is not in ourselves, but in Someone far greater than ourselves. Every birth is a signpost, pointing to the fact that God is the Creator and Sustainer of all life. Every single birth disproves the claims of atheists and other mockers. If you want a simple, straightforward case to make against an atheist, simply point out a birth in progress and say, “there, fool: now try to tell me there is no God.”

The Psalm we recited earlier is all about birth: it mentions birth three times. But like birth itself, Psalm 87 is a bit messy—inspired, yes, but messy nonetheless. At least in the English translation, it comes across as a bit incoherent; the poetry seems a bit clumsy, like that new baby deer that is trying to stand up on its own legs too soon. Even in the Hebrew, the sentences are incomplete, and the transitions from one line to another are awkward. It doesn’t have the elegance of a, say, Psalm 23. Go ahead and take a look at it again (on page 382 of the Prayer Book):

Her foundations are upon the holy hills: * the LORD
loveth the gates of Sion more than all the dwellings
of Jacob.
Very excellent things are spoken of thee, * thou city of God.
I will make mention of Egypt and Babylon, * among
them that know me.
Behold, Philistia also; and Tyre, with Ethiopia; * lo,
in Sion were they born.
Yea, of Sion it shall be reported, this one and that one
were born in her; * and the Most High shall stablish her.
The LORD shall record it, when he writeth up the
peoples; * lo, in Sion were they born.
The singers also and trumpeters shall make answer: *
All my fresh springs are in thee.

Wonderful words, of course, but it’s simply not the most elegant Psalm. It’s the kind that Bible commentators complain about. But again, it’s like birth itself: full of wonders, but not need and tidy.

So what is the Psalmist talking about? First of all, understand that this is not one of David’s Psalms; this one was written much later, after the Temple of Solomon was destroyed and the people of Judah were exiled in Babylon. Some of the people of Judah returned to Jerusalem and rebuilt the Temple, but many, many other Jews remained scattered throughout the world.

This scattering of the Jews, called the Diaspora, was part of God’s surprising plan to bring in the nations to his fold. What happened is that the Jews settled in cities all over the Babylonian, and then Persian, Empires, and continued to worship God in their distinctive ways. As a result, many pagans in other nations converted, and began worshiping the one, true God.
What this Psalm is celebrating is this: that many peoples from nations that used to be Israel’s enemies—they are now in God’s fold. The Psalmist mentions a few of these formerly hostile peoples: Egypt, Babylon, Philistia, Tyre, Ethiopia. All of them are represented, and are now making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem to celebrate the major feasts, just like any good Jew would have made a pilgrimage.

How did this happen? How on earth did idolatrous pagans from hostile nations decide to flock to Jerusalem to celebrate things like Passover? One word sums it up: they were re-born. As the Psalmist says in verse 4, and then repeats it in verse 6: “In Sion they were born.” Sure, their place of physical birth might have been Egypt or Babylon, but as far as God reckons things, they were born in Jerusalem, and are therefore given the full rights as citizens in God’s holy city.

We’ve all heard stories about how people from other countries like Mexico or Cuba do extraordinary things to become citizens of the United States, or to give their children that opportunity. Pregnant women have been known to cling to the bottom side of trucks crossing into our borders so that their child could be born on American soil, and thus reckoned an American citizen.

What the Psalmist is celebrating is that all these people from all these nations are now part of God’s eternal family. They might have been born somewhere else, but the fact that they were re-born in Zion is what matters in God’s eyes. This is a wonder and mystery to be celebrated.

It is this wonderful news of re-birth that is at the heart of the good news of God’s kingdom. We don’t always know exactly what Scriptures Jesus had in mind when he was talking with and instructing different people; but I can’t help but think that Jesus had this Psalm in mind as he spoke with Nicodemus about being “born again.” Here is Nicodemus, a prominent leader and scholar, and when Jesus tells him in John 3 that a man must be born again if he is to see the kingdom of God, Nicodemus is all confused: What? Can a man enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born? How can these things be? And then Jesus gently childes him, saying, “are you a teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things?” Jesus was not, in fact, saying anything new: that God’s plan was to make the nations his own through re-birth had been sung long before Jesus’ time, right here in Psalm 87.


Now, I want to draw our attention to what this means for us as we consider the arrival of our new priest in a few weeks. It is easy for any church, whether a mega-church with 5,000 members, or a small church like our own, so see the pastor as the professional who is going to do all the work of the church. It’s easy to see the pastor as the guy who simply maintains the nice social club of sheep, who smoothes things out so that things don’t get too rocky or messy for the sheep, and then the sheep can go on leading their normal lives. My hope is that we do not fall into that trap.

What we need to keep in mind as Fr. Mike comes to us is this: as our pastor and priest, he is in the business of re-birth. His calling before God is to create an environment in this parish where the Spirit of God can work and bring about new life. When the Spirit is at work, it is like watching a birth take place….because it is a birth taking place. It is beautiful. It is awe-inspiring. It is full of mysteries. And yes, it can be, and often is, very messy.

If Fr. Mike fulfills his calling in our midst—and I have every reason to believe that he will—that will mean that you as an individual, and we as a parish, will be constantly re-born. The make-up of our parish will change: it will change because we are being changed, and also because others will be added to our number. And sometimes, those added to our number will be very different from us, just like those Egyptians and Babylonians and Ethiopians who flocked into Jerusalem were very different from the Jews who also made the trip.

It is, indeed, an exciting time for our parish. May God give us the grace to be ready for the time of re-birth and growth that He has planned for us.

In closing, I want to pray specifically for Fr. Mike in this regard. Please turn to page 59 of the Book of Common Prayer, as I lead us in praying the second prayer under the heading For Pastors, or Ministers-in-Charge.

O LORD Jesus Christ, we beseech thee that the Ministers of thy Gospel, here and everywhere, may be true to their calling. Endue them with thy Holy Spirit, that they may remember the words of Holy Writ, that their understanding thereof may be enlightened, and that their witness may be in truth and with power, to the salvation of sinners and the edifying of saints. May they rightly and duly administer thy holy Sacraments, and by their life and doctrine set forth thy true and lively Word. May they be to all men wholesome examples in faith, word, love, chastity, and fidelity; that so thy Name may be glorified, who art, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, world without end. Amen.

Homily: 1st Sunday after Trinity, Sunday, June 14, 2009

The liturgical green is out, signaling that the long season of Trinity is upon us.

To call it a “season” is most appropriate: the green color of Trinity season is meant to provoke agricultural images of growth and fruitfulness. Just as a farmer does much planting and pruning and watering and weeding during the spring and summer if he hopes to have a good harvest in the fall, so too are we called during this season to prepare our lives for a long, sustained season of growth in Jesus Christ.
St. James put it like this in the reading we heard earlier this morning:
Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains.

You also, be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand.

“Establish you hearts.” If you want a slogan or motto or guiding principle for the Trinity season, that is it: “establish your hearts.” Having our hearts established is not something you can do in a short period of time; like farming, it involves a lot of sustained, disciplined attention, coupled with a strong faith in the Holy Spirit to bring forth the fruit of that long, sustained labor.

Older writers used to call this process “spiritual formation,” and that term is making a welcome comeback in our day.

What is often assumed, unfortunately, is that this process of “establishing our hearts,” this process of “spiritual formation,” is something that just happens to us or doesn’t. For some Christians, they have such a high view of God’s sovereignty—which we should all have—but come to the mistaken conclusion that God’s absolute sovereignty means that I do absolutely nothing of my own effort to aid in spiritual formation. For other Christians, it is just plain laziness that gets in the way.

But for most Christians, I believe, the problem that keeps them from properly “establishing their hearts” and taking responsibility for their spiritual formation is simple ignorance of how it works. They have a desire to grow in Jesus, but they just don’t know how to get there.

It would be helpful, then, to draw an analogy between our spiritual formation and another area of life that we know something about. While no one here is a professional athlete, we all know something about what it takes to be physically fit, and so let us compare spiritual formation to being physically fit.
Whether we are talking about physical fitness or spiritual formation, there are three things that are absolutely necessary: we need a vision for what we can accomplish; we need the intention to accomplish it (in other words, we need a real plan); and we need the means to carry out the plan. Three things: Vision…intention…means.

Let us say that you three friends who have aspirations to run the Lynchburg 10-miler next fall. All three friends are excited about the idea of running the race, but each has a distinct approach to the race. With just two weeks to go before the race, you approach each one of them.

You ask Friend #1: “Are you ready for the race?”

He responds, “Well, I suppose so.”

“What do you mean, you suppose so?!? Haven’t you been training?”

“No, I haven’t been training. If I’m meant to finish that race, it will happen. There’s no sense in wearing myself out through this long, hot summer.”

Friend #1 had barely had any vision; he apparently had no intentions to train; and he certainly did make any use of the means to train.

You then ask Friend #2: “So, are you ready for the race.”

Friend #2 responds, “Yes, I think I’ll be ready. Training didn’t go quite as I expected, though.”

“Oh? What happened?” you ask.

“Well, money was really short,” your friend explained. “I couldn’t afford running shoes and the right equipment, and I couldn’t join the gym to work out. Since gas prices have gone up, I couldn’t put gas in the car either…so I just made the best of things. I walked to work every day—5 miles there, 5 miles back—with all my work materials packed into my backpack. It wasn’t the best way to train, but I did what I could, so I should be ready, but I can’t know for sure.”

Friend #2 had a great vision, and also had intentions to train. He just didn’t have the best means in place. Sure, walking to work and back is better than doing nothing, but it might not prove a sufficient training regimen for the long, hilly run that is the Lynchburg 10-Miler.

You then ask Friend #3: “How about you? Are you ready for the race?”

Friend #3 responds, “You know, things could happen: I could get injured or dehydrated during the race, and be forced to quit. But I’ve trained smart, and trained hard. I went on two long runs per week, two shorter and faster runs per week, and I lifted weights twice per week. I had a nagging foot injury about six weeks into training, but because I had been lifting, I was strong and was able to recover quickly. I have slowly been able to work up to good, solid 9 mile runs, so I should be ready for the big day.”

So friend #3 had the vision for what he could do; he had the well-thought out plan and intention; and he employed the right means to meet his goal. The obstacles will come, but this friend has sufficiently prepared himself to meet and overcome those obstacles.

And so it is in our spiritual formation: we need to think of “establishing our hearts” as a kind of exercise. We, too, need the vision, and intention, and means to train ourselves in godliness.
• The vision is this: God, the Holy Trinity, has brought us into his life. We are called to serve him in his Kingdom.
• The intention is this: we need to “establish our hearts” by deciding whether or not growing in Jesus is important. It is one thing to say that growing in Jesus is important to us; it is quite another thing to believe it, and act on it. Just like an athlete needs a training plan in order to compete, so too we need a plan to grow into spiritual maturity.
• The means is this: we need to have specific, concrete ways to carry out our intentions. If we intend to grow in Christlikeness, we need to employ means that are challenging, and yet realistic. For example: before we try to memorize the whole book of Romans (which is the spiritual equivalent of running a marathon), it would be best to simply try to memorize one chapter of Romans, and go from there.

I have become absolutely convinced that the best way to think about spiritual formation, about “establishing our hearts,” is to think of it as a kind of exercise. Ignatius of Loyola did well to name his famous book exactly that—Spiritual Exercises.

Here in America, the popular name for a collection of spiritual disciplines like prayer and Bible reading is “devotions.” To call these practices “devotions” is certainly not wrong, but it can be misleading…and here’s why (and here, I return to a sports analogy):
• An athlete who goes regularly to the weight room is not doing so to prove that he is devoted. He is devoted to his sport, and therefore trains in order to become stronger and more skilled.
• Likewise, an athlete does not talk things over with his coach and pick his coach’s brain just to prove how devoted he is to his sport. Instead, he does so in order to grow in knowledge become a better athlete. His interaction with his coach is not the proof of his devotion, but the fruit of his devotion to the sport.

Very often, when Christians want to display their spiritual credentials, to prove their love for God, they talk about their “devotions.” Again, don’t hear me wrong: the word is not inherently bad, and certainly the practice is worthwhile. We just need to be aware of the misconceptions the word can bring.
• A Christian who reads and studies the Bible is not doing so to prove that he is devoted to God. Instead, he is devoted to God, and therefore reads and studies in order to transform his mind more and more to the mind of Jesus Christ. Bible study is not the proof of one’s devotion, but the fruit of one’s devotion to God. It is an exercise.
• Likewise, a Christian who prays is not doing so to prove how “devoted” he is to God. In fact, the more a Christian prays, the less and less he will even think about how devoted he is. The more we pray, the more we very naturally think God’s thoughts after him, and the less we are concerned with how “devoted” we feel.


So as we begin this Trinity season, and we anticipate the growth that God is going to bring about in our lives, take time to consider: what is my plan for becoming more and more like Jesus? And what are the means and tools I need to carry out that plan? Perhaps your intention might be to read through the whole Bible this summer—there are many means to do so, and I’d be happy to point them out. Perhaps you would like to walk more steadily and regularly in prayer—there are plenty of means to do that as well. Perhaps there is some great book by a great Christian writer you wanted to tackle—I, and certainly Pastor Ed, would be happy to help you there. Remember that even a defective plan is better than no plan at all. God is not looking for a squeaky-clean, flawless plan that looks impressive to onlookers: rather, He is looking for men and women who are simply dedicated to living more fully in that Kingdom.

In closing, let us turn to page 71 of the Book of Common Prayer, as I lead us in praying “A Prayer for Christian Faith.”

Almighty God and heavenly Father; Open thou our eyes that we may see ourselves to be sinners in thy sight, partakers of a fallen nature, and actual transgressors against thee. Enable us to realize our continual need, both of thy pardoning mercy and of thy quickening grace, and to receive Jesus Christ as the only Saviour of our souls. May we trust in his atonement, and rely on his intercession, as our only hope. Rejoicing in thy free salvation, and renouncing our own righteousness, may we walk in the way of thy commandments, serving thee faithfully, and striving against every sin; through the grace that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Homily: Trinity Sunday, Sunday, June 7, 2009

Things are always more valuable to us when we know just how much they cost us. When we invest a lot of time, money, and effort into something, we generally put a higher premium on it.

This is true of our possessions. For instance, if you have diligently saved up your money to buy a nice car, you are more than likely going to take good care of that car, since you know just how hard you worked to get it. On the other hand, if you paid $100 for a beat-up car from the junk yard, more than likely you are not going to waste your time giving that car a good polish or good detailing. So whether we are talking about cars, clothing, jewelry, books, or basketball shoes, we place value on something when we know how much it has cost us.

This is also true of our traditions. Recently, we celebrated two civic holidays: a few weeks ago, we celebrated Mother’s Day; and then a few weeks after that, we celebrated Memorial Day.

Just consider why we put so much stock in those days.

In the case of Mother’s Day, we value Mom so much and honor her on one particular day each May because we know how much it cost our Moms to raise us. There is often a lot of pain and sickness in the pregnancy and birthing process; and when it comes to raising children, there is very often even more pain and sickness involved. So we honor moms on Mothers Day because of their sacrifice on our behalf.

Likewise on Memorial Day: we honored those men who have died on behalf of our country. We honorrd those soldiers and sailors and marines and airmen and value them greatly because have paid the ultimate price; and we, in some way, have benefited from their sacrifice.

So in both case—in Mothers Day and in Memorial Day—we recognize that the cost paid by certain people is high…and therefore, we honor those people highly.

And now, here we are today, not celebrating a civic holiday, but rather a church holy day. Today is Trinity Sunday, and on this of all days, it is appropriate to ask you this question: how much do you value the Trinity?

How important is it to us to believe that God is one God, and that God exists in three Persons?

Do you love the Trinity? Sounds like a strange question. We are used to people asking if we love God, or asking if we love Jesus, or if we love our Bibles. But the idea of loving and valuing the Trinity sounds strange in our ears. By why is that?

Perhaps the question does not make sense until I tell you how much this doctrine has cost certain people. Consider the Nicene Creed that we recited together today. Among other things, in reciting that Creed we confessed our faith in the Trinity: God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost.

But are these simply words that flow glibly from our mouths? Does this all seem like dry, stale doctrine, written by a bunch of men who are fond of just composing fine-tuned theological distinctions?

Would it change the way you think about the words of the Nicene Creed if I told you that the men who composed it suffered immensely for what they believed?

A historian notes this about the men who gathered at Nicea about 1700 years ago: “The early church came to Nicea already battle-scarred from the struggle with the enemies without and within, struggles with the empire and with the heretics. The Fathers went to Nicea with the marks of battle…arms made useless by the application of red-hot irons to the nerves, crippled and maimed of body. Some had the right eye dug out, others had lost the right arm." They suffered in this way because they had the audacity to tell the world that God is much grander than we might have supposed.

So this Creed which we recite together at least once a month does not get us into trouble right here, right now, in this country. Perhaps it should. And perhaps some day it will. But for the men who wrote it, it literally cost them life and limb. If it cost them so much, perhaps we should value it even more.


But it still begs the question: why is the belief in the Trinity so important that these men were willing to suffering pain, humiliation, exile, and even death?

Simply put, these men rightly recognized that God’s existence as the Trinity is the most foundational belief we confess. This is not some optional or secondary doctrine that you can take or leave as you wish. If you take away the Trinity, you have taken away the Christian faith in its entirety.

Let me briefly address two applications of this doctrine of the Trinity. Our forefathers in the faith recognized that there were numerous applications of this truth; we would do well to heed several of them today.

There are two things we want to avoid as we consider the Trinity: both of them begin with “S”: we want to avoid Simplification, and we want to avoid Subordinationism.

First, we dare not attempt to simplify this doctrine. God is bigger than us; as our Creator, there are some things about him that are going to be mysterious to us. That is how it should be. Think about the Epistle reading today from the book of Revelation. In Revelation 4 and 5, we are given a glorious picture of what a heavenly worship service looks like. Around the throne of God are the 24 elders; and on each side of the throne are the four living creatures, terrible and beautiful to behold. For all their mighty power, a power that far exceeds our own, these four living creatures do nothing but proclaim

Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty,
Who was and is and is to come.

The four living creatures are overwhelmed by the glory and majesty and mystery of God’s presence.

We, too, should be shot through by the holiness of God. But when we take what God has revealed to us, particularly how He has revealed his Trinitarian character, and we try to simplify it and dumb it down to suit our sensibilities, then we are guilty of a most grievous sin. When we try to dumb down and simplify what God has taught us, it shows that we have no interest whatsoever in worshiping God as He really is.

Yes, the doctrine of the Trinity is hard to understand—in fact, no created being, whether human or angelic, can possibly understand it. God is One; God is also Three. This is, as Daniel Webster once remarked, “heavenly arithmetic” that transcends our understanding.

I love teaching in a Christian high school, because the students ask their teachers great, straightforward questions. One of my students—back when I taught in Montana—in a Bible class asked me point-blank: “Mr. Martin, if you deny the Trinity, will you go to hell?” It was a simple, honest question, and so I gave the class a simple, honest answer: yes, if you deny the Trinity, you will go to hell. BUT, I had to qualify that answer. We do not have to UNDERSTAND the Trinity: none of us do, and none of us can. But we have to believe it, because that is how God has revealed himself to us.

But many men do not like complexity; they are uncomfortable with things they cannot understand. And so, instead of trusting God for what they cannot understand, they instead try to bring God down to their own level. Whenever we try to bring God down to our level, the result is heresy (at best) and idolatry (at worst). In fact, every heresy and every cult group out there begins with some kind of denial of the Trinity.

Let us resolve, then, to not try to take away the mystery of God’s character. The angels in heaven would not tolerate that, and neither should we.

Second, not only should we not attempt to simplify the glorious truth of the Trinity, but also we should not fall into the error of subordinationism. Let me explain what I mean by that word. The Scriptures teach that God is one God, existing in three Persons, and each of these 3 Persons are fully and equally God. Subordinationism, though, is the error that says that one of the Persons is superior to the other persons, or that one of the Persons of the Trinity is more fully God than the others. Jehovah’s Witnesses, for instance, are subordinationists, because they insist that Jesus Christ is not fully God as the Father is fully God. Jesus was created by God, they insist; and in doing so, they commit a grievous error.

But let us not think that it is only the cult groups like Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons that can fall into this error. We, too, are prone to fall into subordinationism in more subtle ways. Here is when the doctrine of the Trinity becomes incredibly practical.

For instance, we fall into the error of subordinationism in how we think about marriage. This happens when the husband asserts that, since he is the head of the household, that somehow he is inherently superior to his wife. Since she has to submit to my authority, the husband reasons, that means that I am a superior person. This kind of thinking goes under various names, such as macho-ism or chauvinism.

Now, where does this kind of thinking come from? A man who thinks that way is, in a very practical way, denying the Trinity. In effect, he is saying exactly the same thing as the Jehovah’s Witnesses: that having to submit means that one is inferior. Jesus Christ submits to the Father, this reasoning goes, and is therefore a lesser person. The husband who does not truly hold to the Trinity applies this same sort of thinking to his marriage, saying in effect that since my wife submits to me, she is therefore a lesser person. That is a grievous and common error, and men: we have all to some extent thought that way, and we need to repent of it.

But wives are just as susceptible to fall into error, only their error comes from another direction. The mistake many wives make in marriage is to say, well, both my husband and I are human beings; therefore we are equal, and because we are equal I do not have to submit to him at all. This is the basic idea behind modern feminism, and many Christian wives have unwittingly fallen prey to this destructive idea.

This idea that wives do not have to submit to their husbands is destructive because, again, it is an implicit denial of the Trinity. Jesus Christ is fully God, and yet in his role and function He does truly submit to the Father and do the Father’s will. The Holy Ghost is fully God, and yet in his role and function He does submit to the Father and to the Son. But when we do not understand the Trinity properly, it should not surprise us that our bad ideas about God are transferred quite readily into bad ideas about our marriages.

And so, amazing as it may sound, many of our basic problems in marriage today start with an improper view of the Trinity. When we truly grasp what God has taught us about his Triune character, our lives and marriages should be radically changed.

But the error of subordinationism is easy to fall into in other areas as well.

• Everyone here, young and old, who holds a job must submit to his or her boss. Yes, you are just as human as your boss and just as valuable in the eyes of God…but you must still submit to the authority of your boss, as Christ submitted to the Father’s authority.
• Children: you are human beings, created in God’s image. You are just as important in God’s eyes as your parents are. But as long as you live under your parents’ roof, you must submit to your parents and obey them, just as Christ submitted to the Father.
• On the reverse side, parents: we must keep in mind that our children area created in God’s image, and are not simply potential persons. Children are fully human, and important in the eyes of God. To think in a Trinitarian way about our children means two things: one, that we do not demean them or provoke them to anger in any way. But secondly, I think the more common thing today is to allow the children to get away with not submitting to their parents, to allow them to do their own thing. So to think in a Trinitarian way about our role as parents involves two things: one, it means you must uphold the dignity of your child as someone created by God in His image; and on the other hand, it means you do not coddle the child in such a way that the child does not submit to your very real authority. If the child does not learn to submit to authority in your home, your child will not learn it anywhere else.
• For those of you who are students: you, too, are as important in God’s eyes as your teachers. In fact, some of you students here might be thinking that you are actually smarter than your teachers. Well, perhaps you are. But in your role as a student, you must still submit to your teachers, just as Christ submitted to the Father.
• We should also apply this thinking to the church: in this parish, Father Mike will be the shepherd of our flock. That does not make him a superior person. And yet, it would be a mistake for us to say that, well, since he is not superior to us, therefore he does not have any real authority over us. Again, that is an un-Trinitarian way of thinking. In our role as parishioners, we must submit to the authority of those spiritual authorities whom God has appointed over us.

In closing, let me simply reiterate that this doctrine of the Trinity, which we will commemorate on the church calendar from now until Advent season, is a truly great gift. It came to us at great cost, and we should therefore put great value upon it.

Do not attempt to avoid the profound mystery of it by simplifying to your liking. And do not fall into the error of subordinationism, either in the way we think about God or in the way we think about man.

The Trinity is a truth to embrace, not a riddle to write off.

And the Trinity is not only a truth to embrace: it is also a life to embrace. We should not simply contemplate the truth of the Trinity in a detached, intellectual fashion. No: to be saved by God means that we enter into the life of the Trinity. God the Father, God the Son, and God the Spirit began a dance when the world was created, and we are invited to become part of that dance. We are co-workers with the Trinity as God continues the work of New Creation.

Let us then close by turning to p. 68 of the Book of Common Prayer, as I lead us in praying “For Every Man in his Work.”

Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who declarest thy glory and showest forth thy handiwork in the heavens and in the earth; Deliver us, we beseech thee, in our several callings, from the service of mammon, that we may do the work which thou givest us to do, in truth, in beauty, and in righteousness, with singleness of heart as thy servants, and to the benefit of our fellow man; for the sake of him who came among us as one that serveth, they Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Homily: Pentecost Sunday, Sunday, May 31, 2009

A good friend of mine from seminary, whose oldest son is five years old, recently asked me if it was time for him to start reading the Chronicles of Narnia to his boy. I assured him that yes, at age five his boy can begin to grasp the basic storylines. As I recall, it took about a year and a half to finish the Chronicles with my oldest kids; and from there, we took about another year and a half to read through the Lord of the Rings together.

For those of you who have read the Lord of the Rings, or have seen the movies, or have just a passing acquaintance with the story, you know that the story is built around an unusually large cast of characters that makes it a challenge not only for young reader, but also for older, seasoned readers. Most authors expect their readers to keep track of about a dozen characters or so; but when you read Tolkien, you must keep track of about ten dozen characters.

What’s more, many of these characters are very complex and often greatly misunderstood. Take, for instance, one of the main characters, the wizard Gandalf. He comes, he goes. He comes, he goes. And when he comes and goes, something significant always happens—and often, it is not pleasant. Many of the other characters do not understand Gandalf; they think that because Gandalf shows up just in time before something evil happens, Gandalf must therefore be causing the evil thing to happen. Even those who are close to Gandalf and trust him with their lives do not begin to claim that they understand him.

Our purpose today, of course, is not to talk exhaustively about fictitious wizards like Gandalf, but on this day it is appropriate to draw our attention to a character in the Bible who is also misunderstood by many. I can think of several biblical characters who are widely misunderstood: Jacob comes to mind; Sampson is widely misunderstood; all the prophets were misunderstood; St. Paul was and is widely misunderstood. But here, on Pentecost Sunday, we need to draw our attention to the story of the most misunderstood character of the Bible, the third member of the Holy Trinity…that is, the Holy Spirit.

There are many reasons why the Holy Spirit is widely misunderstood, but two of these reasons stand out. First, most people, myself included, find themselves habitually referring to the Holy Spirit with the impersonal pronoun “it” rather than properly referring to the Holy Spirit with the personal pronoun “he.” No one I know of is the habit of referring to our Heavenly Father as “it,” nor to our Lord Jesus Christ as “it.” And yet, we find ourselves referring to the Holy Spirit as “it” quite often. This shows that we tend to think of the Holy Spirit more as an invisible force or power than as a real person. And then naturally, when we think of the Holy Spirit as a force or power, the temptation is to try to figure out how to control and manipulate that power. One thinks of Simon the Magician, who in the book of Acts saw the apostles do signs and wonders through the personal power of the Holy Spirit, and wanted to buy that same power for himself.

Not only do we tend to think of the Holy Spirit as an impersonal force rather than a divine person, but the second prominent misunderstanding is this: many assume that the Holy Spirit just suddenly appears on the scene in Acts chapter 2 (the passage that was read today) when the wind rushed into the room where the apostles were meeting and flames of fire came down upon their heads. Certainly, this event was a glorious manifestation of the Holy Spirit, but it was by no means the first appearance He made in the story given to us in the Scriptures.

In fact, the Holy Spirit makes his entrance into the story in the opening scene of the very first act of God’s play. In Genesis 1:1, we are told, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” and then, in the very next verse we read this: “The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.” Here we see that the Holy Spirit is far from a newcomer in God’s story: He was there from the very beginning. He was “Hovering over the face of the waters,” bringing order and glory to God’s newly created universe. Too often we think of God as a distant god who sits up in the highest heavens and glares down at the physical creation, and every now and then gets his hands dirty with the world as we know it. But right here from the start, we see that the Holy Spirit has always been intimately involved in God’s creation.

Of course, we know that in just a short period of time, Adam and Eve sinned and fell from the original glory of God’s creation. But the role of the Holy Spirit did not stop: the Holy Spirit brought new life to the original creation, and the Holy Spirit continued to do so even after sin and death came into the world. We see this in Genesis chapter 8, when God flooded the whole world but saved Noah and his family and a massive floating zoo along with them. Recall that as the flood waters were subsiding, Noah first sent out a raven to see if there was any dry land; and then he sent out a dove on three different occasions. This was a real, flesh-and-blood dove that Noah sent out, and at the same time it was a symbol of the Holy Spirit. The dove hovered over the flood waters, searching for signs of new life; and likewise, the Holy Spirit broods over God’s creation, looking for and bringing forth signs of new life. It is no coincidence, then, that when Jesus himself was baptized, the Holy Spirit appeared on the scene in the form of a dove. And so, it is fitting that to this very day, the dove remains a well-recognized symbol of the Holy Spirit.

And then a short time later, we come to the account of the Tower of Babel in Genesis chapter 11, which again was read for us today. The arrogance of mankind got the better of him once again, for they wanted to “make a name for themselves” by building a great tower. God’s will for mankind was that he be fruitful and multiply and spread out all over the face of the earth, but these men said, “no, we want to stay right here and build ourselves an empire that will bring us honor and glory.” Well, in spite of the great height of the tower, God shows his wonderful sense of humor in that he had to come down from heaven to inspect what was in fact a puny little tower. And then the rest of the story we know well: God confused their languages, so that their attempts to build this tower and an empire were thwarted, and they were forced to scatter all over the face of the earth. When sinful men unite for the purpose of glorifying themselves over and above God, God will judge them and put them to confusion.

But what is the Holy Spirit doing in this part of the story? As before, the Holy Spirit is hovering over the chaos and sin that is in the world, and is drawing out new life from that world. And so, it is important for us to note one of the most important transitions in the whole Bible takes place right here, the transition between Genesis 11 and Genesis 12.

In Genesis 12, the Holy Spirit responds to sinful chaos by calling a man named Abram. Before, Abram was just another pagan, like the many pagans that had just been confused and scattered back at the Tower of Babel. But the Spirit called him, changed his name to Abraham, and promised Abraham that he would be the father of many nations. Note the connection, then, between Genesis 11 and Genesis 12. In Genesis 11, we have the problem illustrated for us: sinful man rebels against God, and God brings confusion into their midst and scatters them. In Genesis 12, God begins to fix the problem by promising Abraham he would be the means through which God would re-unite mankind and save him from death. Whatever the Holy Spirit was going to do to bring in this new life, He would do it through Abraham.

But the call of Abraham was only the beginning. Abraham was the physical father of the Jewish people, and for many generations the covenant was given to Abraham’s seed and Abraham’s seed alone. And throughout those many generations, the Holy Spirit guided the people of God: the Holy Spirit was manifest through the pillar of cloud and fire that guided the Israelites through the wilderness. The Holy Spirit was revealed when Moses received the Law on Mount Sinai (and, incidentally, for the Jews the feast of Pentecost fell on the same day that they believe the law was given to Moses). The Holy Spirit was revealed in the very structure of the Tabernacle. And most dramatically, the Holy Spirit was revealed upon the completion of Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem: when the Ark of the Covenant was brought to the Temple, the Holy Spirit very dramatically filled the Most Holy Place with a thick cloud. Later, the Holy Spirit was revealed through the prophets, who tirelessly called the people of Israel to repent of their rebellion against their good God. But while the Holy Spirit guided God’s people throughout the history of Israel, outside the Jewish nation, the confusion and chaos of Babel continued unabated.

…And yet, God promised to Abraham that he would be the father of many nations, not just the Jewish nation. Somehow, Babel would be reversed.

Everything changed, then, when Jesus Christ emerged out of the tomb on the first Easter Day. The principalities and powers of the world, and death itself, were all defeated. Forty days later, Jesus Christ ascended to the throne of his Father. The job of the Apostles was now clear: since Jesus had taken his place as the rightful king of the world, their job was to let the rest of the world know it. But that job would be far from easy. After all, the world outside Israel was still the land of Babel, full of confusion and chaos. How on earth were the apostles supposed to go to the Greeks and the Romans and the Egyptians and the Ethiopians and Indians and tell them this crazy story about a Jewish carpenter who was shamefully crucified by the Romans, but then rose again from the dead in order to take his heavenly throne as the king of the world?** Humanly speaking, the message was absurd; and furthermore, how on earth were they to tell this absurd story to a people who spoke in tongues they did not know?

Once again, that mysterious and often misunderstood character enters the picture. In Acts chapter 2, we read that it was the feast of Pentecost. The disciples were gathered into a room when the Holy Spirit made a dramatic entrance, with a mighty rushing wind and flames of fire appearing over them. And being filled with the Holy Spirit, each one of them began to speak in languages that they had not previously known.

Now, notice what Luke tells us in the very next verse in Acts 2. In verse 5, he tells us, “Now, there were dwelling in Jerusalem Jews, devout men from every nation under heaven.” In Genesis 11, God had confused man’s language and scattered them into many nations all over the world. Here in Acts 2, the Holy Spirit reverses that Babel-like confusion. Then Peter goes on to assure everyone that the Apostles were not drunk, but rather what they were witnessing right there and then was nothing less than the ancient promises of God coming to their fulfillment. God promised Abraham a multi-national family, and that new family was being formed right before their eyes by the power of the Holy Spirit.

So what we see is that the same Holy Spirit, who was intimately involved in the old creation, hovering over and bringing forth signs of new life, is now unleashed by the Father and the Son in order to usher in God’s new creation. In Acts 2, the Holy Spirit is not introduced as a new character in the story; instead, the Holy Spirit is a very old character whose role now takes center stage.

Perhaps the most important way that the Holy Spirit takes center stage is by filling God’s chosen people and making them what we sometimes call “spiritual people.” And throughout the New Testament, the apostles also refer to members of the Church as “spiritual people.” In light of this all-too-brief survey of the work of the Holy Spirit, what does it mean for us to be “spiritual” people?

Well, let’s begin with what it does not mean. To be “spiritual” does not mean that we should write off the physical world as though it had little or no importance. Too often we suppose that being “spiritual” means that we treat the normal, earthy things of life as being somehow second-rate compared to the “non-earthy” realities. With this idea goes the thinking that prayer is important, but work is unimportant…or that Bible study has eternal value, but studying things like algebra or science or gardening or woodworking is a waste of time. Of course, prayer and Bible study are crucial—for without them, we cannot know the mind of God—but we are being deeply disloyal to our Creator if we turn around and say that God’s good creation is somehow second-rate. If the Holy Spirit has been brooding over creation from the very beginning, we who are Spirit-filled must also be about the business of brooding over creation. What that means is that this physical world that God has placed us in is hugely important, and we dare not abandon it. When we deny our physical nature, when we marginalize the created order in the name of “spirituality,” we are actually being deeply un-spiritual. The Bible begins in Genesis with Creation in a garden, and it ends in Revelation with New Creation in a city, a city that we will inhabit not as disembodied spirits, but with our resurrected bodies.

Secondly, to be “spiritual” does not mean that we demand to have highly dramatic, supernatural things happening to us and around us all the time. What we see in Acts chapter 2, when the Holy Spirit filled the apostles, was a wonderful display of God’s power, and we praise God that He has done and continues to do such mighty acts. But we also need to remember that this kind of pouring out of the Holy Spirit was unique in God’s redemptive history: it was during this time that God was laying the foundations of his new kingdom. For those of you who have built homes, you know that the laying of the foundation involves a lot of dramatic work: you have to chop down trees, pull up roots, level the ground…and sometimes, if the ground you are working on is especially rocky, you have to use dynamite to break up those rocks so that you can dig and pour the foundation. That’s what was happening in the book of Acts: the Holy Spirit was clearing away the brush and bramble of the old world in order to lay the foundation for God’s new world. It was certainly dramatic. But now that this foundation has been laid, our task as a Church is to build on that foundation, one brick at a time. Yes, the Holy Spirit can and sometimes still does act dramatically like He did in the book of Acts…but let us not suppose that to be “spiritual” means that we demand that the Holy Spirit act in this manner in all times and in all places. Even in the Bible, we see that God’s normal way of dealing with his people is to change them slowly but surely over long periods of time. As Eugene Peterson has said, discipleship is a “long obedience in the same direction.” Those who are truly “spiritual” have the patience and long-suffering to see God work through them over the long haul.

In sum, to be “spiritual” means to see the world as the Holy Spirit sees the world. As Saint Augustine put it, we are to “think God’s thoughts after him.” The world has had a new King ever since Jesus Christ ascended up to his heavenly throne. Our job, through the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit, it to proclaim the Kingship of Jesus throughout the world, by both word and deed. And though there remains in this world many pockets of resistance, though there are men and women who do not want to concede that Jesus is the world’s true King, and though we who are lead by the Spirit may often experience suffering…Jesus promised that as we go about this task, the gates of hell will never, under any circumstances, prevail against His Church.

Let us close by praying “A Prayer for the Holy Spirit,” found on page 62 of the Book of Common Prayer.

O God, Holy Ghost, Sanctifier of the faithful, visit, we pray thee, this congregation with they love and favor; Enlighten their minds more and more with the light of the everlasting Gospel; graft in their hearts a love of the truth; increase in them true religion; nourish them with all goodness; and of they great mercy keep them in the same, O blessed Spirit, whom, with the Father and the Son together, we worship and glorify as one God, world without end. Amen.

Homily: Sunday after Ascension , Sunday, May 24, 2009

Text: II Kings 2:1-14

One of the keys to becoming a better student of the Bible is to come to grips with the fact that the Bible is literature.

Right away, when you make that claim, you might face objections from two sides. The first objection you get is from non-believers, who say, “Come on, the Bible is just a hodge-podge collection of ancient writings, sloppily thrown together. There is no coherence to the Bible whatsoever.”

The second objection to the notion that the Bible is literature comes from some well-meaning Christians, who are afraid that in saying “the Bible is literature,” that you are saying, “….and therefore it is a man-made product and not inspired by the Holy Spirit.”

But when we say, “The Bible is literature,” what we are saying is that the Bible is certainly more than literature—because, indeed, all 66 books are inspired by the Holy Spirit. We are also saying that the Bible is not less than literature: in other words, we do ourselves a great disservice when we read the Bible as a gangly connection of stories and moral advise. No: the men who wrote the Bible did so with great care and insight. As with any piece of great literature, in the Bible the characters are well-developed; key themes and motifs appear and re-appear; the authors skillfully connect what seem to be insignificant details. When we think of the great works of ancient literature—works by Homer and Virgil and Cicero and others—the Bible stands shoulder-to-shoulder with them in literary terms. As Christians, we simply go one step further and say that this great piece of literature is great ultimately because it is inspired by God.

One of the ways the Bible proves itself to be to be truly great literature is in the use of types. A “type” in the Bible is a person or place or thing that foreshadows another person or place or thing. For instance, the Old Testament is full of “types” of Jesus: Adam is a “type” of Jesus; Joseph is a “type” of Jesus; Moses is a “type” of Jesus; David is a “type” of Jesus; even the lambs that were regularly sacrificed were “types” of Jesus; the Tabernacle and Temple were also “types” of Jesus.

What is fascinating about the types in the Bible is that they can be very complex and do double-duty, so to speak. Take the prophet Elijah. Here, Jesus is very specific: he tells us that Elijah is a type of John the Baptist. And if Elijah is a type of John, then it logically follows that Elisha his successor would be a type of Jesus.

But Elijah as a type does double-duty: yes, he was a type of John the Baptist; but he was also a type of Jesus Christ. And when Elijah is considered as a type of Jesus, then logically Elisha his successor would be a type of the Church.

As you can see, typology and symbolism in the Bible can get complicated.

And so, let us get into the details of the story of the last moments of Elijah’s life here on earth.

The whole story of the Bible is about God’s presence with his people. In Elijah’s day, God had almost entirely withdrawn his presence from Israel because of their great apostasy. Elijah himself represented God’s presence in Israel—so much so, that when Elijah departed from the people and went into exile, God also departed from the people, as symbolized by the three-year drought.

As 2 Kings chapter 2 opens up, we are told that Elijah is soon to be taken up into heaven. Elisha knows this, and is disheartened: after all, if Elijah is taken from us, what does that mean for us? How will God be present among us if his great fire-prophet is taken from us? Three times Elijah tries to convince Elisha to remain behind while he goes on across the Jordan River, but three times Elisha refuses.

So Elijah and Elisha come to the Jordan; Elijah takes off his cloak, strikes the water, and it parts for them. Upon reaching the other side of the Jordan, Elijah asks if Elisha wants anything (much as God asked Solomon if there was anything he wanted). But instead of asking for wisdom, Elisha asks for a double portion of Elijah’s spirit (in asking for a “double portion” of something, Elisha was claiming the right of a firstborn son, who received a “double portion” of a family’s inheritance—cf. Deuteronomy 21:17). Elijah says that his desire will be granted if and only if Elisha actually sees Elijah ascend into the heavens.

And then, we know the story well: Elisha sees chariots of fire sweep Elijah away to heaven in a whirlwind. And with great sorrow, but also with great confidence, Elisha picks up the cloak of Elijah—a symbol of prophetic authority—and retraces Elijah’s steps. He strikes the Jordan with the cloak, and it parts for him as it did for Elijah.

And if you take time to read on through the events of 2 Kings, you see that in many ways, as great as Elijah was, in many ways Elisha was even greater. Truly, a double portion of Elijah’s spirit was given to him.

Now, why is this text chosen for the Sunday after Ascension Day?

There is, of course, the obvious reason: the same cloud-chariot—the symbol of God’s presence—that carried Elijah into heaven also carried Jesus into heaven. The difference with Jesus is that he was carried into the very throne room of heaven, to reign as king of the world.

But it is not just the fact of these ascensions, but the result of these ascensions that are instructive for us.

1. The first result is this: when Elijah ascended, his presence—his “spirit” was not withdrawn from the world—instead, it became more powerful. Elisha became, as it were, the “re-incarnation” of Elijah. (now, do not misunderstand how that word is being used here: I am not talking about an Eastern-style “reincarnation” where a person could die and be born in the form of another human or even an animal some time later. I am using the word in its most Biblical—and literal—sense: Elisha is the “re-incarnation” of Elijah in that he embodied the same Spirit that empowered his master). Having received a “double portion” of the Spirit, Elisha went on to do even greater things than his master.

Likewise, when Jesus ascended into heaven, the Church that remained on earth became the “re-incarnation” of Jesus (again, using that word in the Biblical sense: to be “incarnated” means to be “embodied,” and the Church is the Body of Christ). Jesus made an incredible promise to his disciples in John 14, verse 12: "Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I am going to the Father.”

How on earth could the Church do “greater works” than Jesus? Hard words to believe, yet that is exactly what Jesus said. It must have been equally hard for Elisha to believe that he truly did have a double portion of Elijah’s spirit.


2. The second result was this: after the sons of the prophets were convinced that Elijah was gone, they immediately recognized that Elisha was his successor. They realized that there was a strong family resemblance between the great prophet who was before and the great prophet that stood before them now. Elijah had departed, but in a sense he was still there.

Likewise, after Jesus ascended, the Jews in Jerusalem took note of the courage displayed by Peter and the other apostles, and their conclusion was that these men had obviously been with Jesus. There was a strong family resemblance. Jesus had departed, but in a sense he was still there, embodied in his Church.


In our Collect for this week, we prayed that God “would not leave us comfortless.”

Much as it might surprise us, Elijah and Jesus needed comfort. Our word “comfort” comes from the Latin word “forte” which means “strength.” Yes, even Elijah and Jesus needed strengthening.

Think for a moment about the lives of Elijah and Jesus. Here is Elijah, that great man of action, the fire-prophet who embodied the power of Yahweh. He calls down fire from heaven; he slays hundreds of the prophets of Baal; he confronts evil kings and queens; he shuts up the heavens for three years. And yet, he spent much time in exile: first, at the brook Cherith, where he had to be fed by ravens; and then he fled from Jezebel into the wilderness. He experienced the “dark night of the soul” with utmost intensity; he was utterly convinced that God had lifted his presence completely from Israel. But God spoke to him in a still, small voice, and Elijah was comforted; he was strengthened.

And then there is Jesus, who not only embodied the presence of God, but was and is very God of very God. Yet he, too, spent time in exile; he, too, experienced the “dark night of the soul” when he fasted 40 days and nights in the wilderness, being tempted by the devil all along the way. He felt the anxiety of separation from his Father in the Garden of Gethsemane, and experienced that separation most acutely during those final hours on the cross.

And now that Jesus has ascended, we might at times feel the same way that Elijah felt. We know that Jesus’ ascension means that he is king of the whole world, but quite frankly when we look at the state of the world it is hard to believe. Is God really in control? Has God abandoned us? Can this evil world truly be redeemed? Like Elijah and like Jesus, we sometimes experience the “dark night of the soul,” and we need comfort.

That comfort, prompted by the Holy Spirit, could come in very surprising forms. We often expect that if God is going to act, it is going to be dramatic and bombastic. But that’s usually not how God works. Remember, that Elijah fled into the wilderness and experienced his “dark night of the soul” right after calling down fire from heaven and destroying the prophets of Baal: he had just seen God act dramatically, and still he needed to be comforted. It was not the memory of God’s dramatic action that comforted him; instead, it was the still, small voice of God that gave him comfort.

It will often be the same thing with us. Jesus is our ascended Lord, and as such he is orchestrating all things in heaven and on earth. We might be tempted to think that Jesus needs to orchestrate something really big and really dramatic in order to prove that he is running the show and to give us the comfort that we need. But if Jesus is Lord of the world and is orchestrating all events, that includes the small things as well as the big things. More often than not, God will use the “still small voice” to comfort us, to assure us of his presence, and to prove to us that his strength is made evident in our weakness.

Jesus has ascended; and the Comforter has come. Let us pray.

O God, the King of glory, who hast exalted thine only Son Jesus Christ with great triumph unto thy kingdom in heaven; We beseech thee, leave us not comfortless; but send to us thy Holy Ghost to comfort us, and exalt us unto the same place whither our Savior Christ is gone before, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the same Holy Ghost, one God, world without end. Amen.

Homily: 4th Sunday after Easter, Sunday, May 10, 2009

Today is one of the most celebrated Sundays of the year. All over our good land, people will come out of their worship services and meet at various homes and restaurants to feast and celebrate.

You might be looking up at our hymn board, and wonder, “oh, I didn’t realize that the 4th Sunday after Easter was considered such a big deal.”

But of course, I am not talking about the 4th Sunday after Easter. I’m talking about Mother’s Day.

Now, it would certainly be worth our time to discuss the value and importance of motherhood—it would be worth a 10-part sermon series at least.

My only regret about Mother’s Day—other than the fact that, to my chagrin, I usually do not become mindful of it until about 8 A.M. on the actual morning—is that it usually falls in the midst of some very important days on the church calendar, and kind of shoves them out of the way. It’s not the case this year, but in many years Mother’s Day falls on the same day as the Sunday after Ascension Day. In thousands of churches across the land, Mother’s Day takes the preeminence that should be given over to Ascension Day.

And then, after Ascension week, we roll straight into Pentecost Sunday, and then straight into Trinity Sunday. These feasts are all tied close together, and their significance is obscured if proper attention is not given to the feast that kicks them off—that is, to Ascension day.

What I would like to do today, then, is to begin to consider the importance of the Ascension, even though it is a week and a half away. And then, I intend to continue to speak of it next week (on Rogation Sunday), and conclude with the Sunday after Ascension. It is simply too important to simply mention it in passing.

And so…this morning, we heard read to us the first few verses of the Acts of the Apostles. As most of you know, Acts was written by Luke, the physician and historian, who also wrote the third Gospel.

In fact, the Gospel of Luke and the book of Acts should be seen as one continuous story: while we do not normally think of the book of Acts as one of the “Gospels,” it would not be improper to think of Acts as “The Gospel According to St. Luke, Part II.”

The Gospel of Luke is about the life of Jesus when He was bodily present; and Acts is about the life of Jesus when He was ascended and then present through his saints. The full title of the book of Acts is “The Acts of the Apostles,” but it could just as well be called “The Acts of Jesus Christ through his Apostles.” Even though Peter and Paul, Barnabas and Silas are the principal actors in this story, it is ultimately all about Jesus.

And notice the event that ties together the two books: both at the end of his Gospel, and at the beginning of Acts, Luke gives us an account of the Ascension. The Ascension is the pivotal point for Luke’s presentation of the life and work of Jesus.

Unfortunately, for many, the Ascension of Jesus is basically seen like this: “Jesus went up into heaven, and we hope to join him there someday.” But this is not how Luke presents it. If the Ascension was all about how we, too, might join Jesus in heaven someday, then Luke was wasting his time writing 28 chapters of detailed history.

Luke’s whole point, you see, was this: Jesus has ascended on high, and from his throne in heaven, He is directing the growth of his kingdom. The kingdom of Jesus Christ grows through a slow, historical process; God is concerned with the details of life, with particular places and particular people and particular rulers. The book of Acts—or, again, the Gospel of St. Luke, Part II—is simply the first few chapters of a very long, very glorious story about the growth of the kingdom of Jesus Christ.

Notice how the book ends: in Acts 28, Paul is under house arrest, and Luke ends his account this way:

He lived there two whole years at his own expense, and welcomed all who came to him, proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance.

That’s it! Luke ends his account in a very abrupt way. Why? He was a good storyteller, that’s why. It is as though Luke is telling us that this story—the story of the kingdom of God being proclaimed “without hindrance”—continues to our own day and beyond. It is as though Luke put a little “dot-dot-dot” at the end of this book, to suggest that the story goes on and on.

But what about that kingdom? Let us go back to those opening verses of Luke’s account.

Jesus had gathered his disciples together; and in Acts 1:6, we read that the disciples asked him, “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom of Israel?”

Jesus does not give them a direct “yes” or “no” answer to the question; and many have assumed that Jesus’ implied answer is, “no, I am not really intending to restore the kingdom to Israel.”

I think the better understanding, however, is that Jesus’ implied answer is “yes, I am restoring the kingdom to Israel…but I am doing it in a way you never would have expected.”

What were the disciples asking? What were their expectations of Jesus? How would these good Jews, who had studied the Hebrew Scriptures their whole lives, have been expecting Jesus to do at this point?

Any good Jew who knew the Scriptures would have had several expectations for the true Messiah.
1. First, God-fearing Jews expected that the Messiah would be a ruler like King David. He would not only be a descendent of David, but would vanquish the enemies out of the land like David did.
2. Second, God-fearing Jews expected that, once the Messiah was enthroned, the world would be turned around. The blessings God had given to Israel would begin to flow to the rest of the world. In the book of Ezekiel, we see the image of a river flowing from the Temple in Jerusalem, out to the world, getting deeper and deeper as it goes. So for the Jews, the Messiah’s rule would not be for Israel alone, but for the whole world.
3. Third, God-fearing Jews expected that, when the Messiah was enthroned, evil nations would be judged. The faithful Jews saw how Egypt had been judged; they saw how Assyria had been judged; they saw how Babylon had been judged. And they fully expected to see the monstrous Roman empire judged as well once the Messiah was enthroned.
4. And then fourth, God-fearing Jews expected that, when the Messiah was enthroned, those Jews who had been faithful all along would be rewarded, and would be given top jobs in the new Messianic government.

What Luke wants us to see is that, when Jesus ascended to his throne in heaven, all these expectations started to be fulfilled.

1. Jesus was a king like David…only better.
2. When Jesus ascended, the blessings did start to flow to the rest of the world….beginning in Jerusalem, and then Judea, then Samaria, then to the uttermost parts of the world.
3. When Jesus ascended, he began the work of judging the nations, starting with apostate Israel itself (in the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 A.D.), and the subsequent unraveling of the Roman Empire.
4. When Jesus ascended, his faithful followers were given important jobs to do—but these were far better than typical bureaucratic jobs. They were given the gift of the Holy Spirit, and gifts to use in the kingdom of the Messiah (more on this in just a few weeks, when we get to Pentecost Sunday).

In short, when the disciples asked, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”, the answer is, “yes, much more than you could possibly imagine.”

Think of it this way: let’s say you have a rich uncle who has no children, and he promises you a very nice inheritance when he passes away, to the tune of $1 million. To your surprise, when your uncle dies and his lawyer reads the will, you find out that he has left you not just $1 million, but a million times $1 million. No sane person would protest and say, “wait, that lousy excuse for an uncle, he did not give me what he promised!” No, he didn’t: he gave you so much more.

And when Jesus was about to ascend into heaven, that is essentially what he told his disciples: “all those expectations you have had about the Messiah’s kingdom—I am going to fulfill them more than you could have possibly expected.”

And that is what we need to keep in mind: the ascended Jesus is always doing more than what we could have hoped or expected. We go about our daily, mundane business, wondering what it will all mean in the end: the many hours in the office, the piles of bills that need to be paid, your attempts to be kind and patient with a difficult neighbor, the many hours you invest in the training of your children, the hospitality you extend to your family and friends. All of these things and more are the means through which the ascended King Jesus extends his kingdom.

The entire book of Acts is simply the first few opening chapters of this long and glorious story, the story of how the ascended Messiah is bringing redemption to the world. And he has graciously made us a part of that story. Jesus far exceeded the expectations of the Jews; he will far exceed our expectations, as well.

In closing, I will be praying the prayer found on page 56 of the BCP, “For the Coming of Christ’s Kingdom.” Let us pray.

O ALMIGHTY Father, thou King eternal, immortal, invisible, thou only wise God our Saviour; Hasten, we beseech thee, the coming upon earth of the kingdom of thy Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and draw the whole world of mankind into willing obedience to his blessed reign. Overcome all his enemies, and bring low every power that is exalted against him. Cast out all the evil things which cause wars and fightings among us, and let thy Spirit rule the hearts of men in righteousness and love. Repair the desolations of former days; rejoice the wilderness with beauty; and make glad the city with thy law. Establish every work that is founded on truth and equity, and fulfil all the good hopes and desires of thy people. Manifest thy will, Almighty Father, in the brotherhood of man, and bring in universal peace; through the victory of thy Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Adam-Adamah

From The Unsettling of America:

We have debased the products of work and have been, in turn, debased by them.

The relationship between "man" and "earth," and also between "man" and "work" is not obvious in the English language.

But in Hebrew, the relationship is unmistakable. "Man" is adam, and the earth or ground is adamah. Thus, what man does affects the earth and the work done on the earth, and the work of man in turn affects man himself. Who we are affects what we do, and what we do affects who we are. Hence, our liturgy (literally, "work of the people") is of central importance (which includes worship, but is not limited to worship).