The Running Priest

Whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.
- Matthew 10:40

There may be no higher good to which we can aspire as a church family than to be a “welcoming” community.  Whether we frame that in terms of “radical hospitality,” “boundless friendliness” or as Saint Benedict commanded: meeting all “as Christ,” welcoming all comers with grace and kindness is part of our calling as followers of Jesus.  It’s not that simply being kind to people who visit our church is the greatest Christian ministry.  Sharing the story of Jesus, caring for “the least,” and joining in the praise and worship of God in common prayer all trump being “welcoming” as vital Christian ministries.  But all those things have happened naturally, continually and wonderfully here for over one hundred and fifty years.  Say what you will about the hide-bound and cumbersome structure of the institutional church…we are built to get certain things done.  And we will say the prayers and break the bread and serve the poor until Christ comes again!

Being “welcoming” is important because that’s how these most vital ministries of our church are given a chance to enliven and enrich the experience of those who are not already a part of this fun and faithful family.  It is a given that we are doing God’s work in this place.  Being “welcoming” is the chief way we can insure that work spreads … by expanding the “boundaries” of this community…working together to let new folks in, and celebrating the experiences, talents and aspirations of every soul who walks through our doors.

It is said that when people visit a church they have three goals.  They want to sneak in without being noticed.  They want to get through the service without embarrassing themselves.  And they want to get out the door without being mugged.

These are funny but real concerns for folks who screw up the courage to check out a new church.  They are worries that speak to the deep and real hopes people bring to a church visit.

“Sneaking in” has to do with a healthy desire on the part of visitors to experience the true nature of a church community.  People know instinctively that if they are tagged as a “visitor,” they are likely to be treated differently than everybody else.  Suddenly it’s all good manners and charm…and the church visitor is left wondering: what are these people like when they are not trying to impress me?  How might I experience the presence of God in this place if I hadn’t been tagged as “special?”

We had a family dinner in the city a couple of years ago when some of my siblings were in town.  I’ll never forget this waiter, who was all winning and attentive as he served our table.  But when some neighboring diners paid their bill and left and he opened the little leather book and looked at his tip, he ran back to the kitchen and exploded in fury: Fifteen percent! Roar roar roar!

And then after a minute or so he was back at our table-side all sweetness and light.
People want to be under the radar when they visit this community because they want to know what were really like…not just when we’re all gussied up to impress company, but in our everyday relationships as church people.

The desire to “get through the service without being embarrassed” speaks to the genuine respect and hope that people bring to a church visit.

Sure – as human beings we desire to “fit in” and “belong.”  Partly getting through the service without being embarrassed is about that.  All of us desire the connection and comfort that comes with fitting in…and most people don’t like to look foolish.  Many of you have said the Lord’s Prayer in the “wrong” way at a Roman Catholic Church or a Presbyterian Church.   That’s pretty embarrassing!  But the larger thing operating here is the tacit acknowledgment that visitors hope – even expect – to encounter God when they make their way through the doors of a new church.

The desire to “play by the rules” of this community…to “do it right” and not be embarrassed comes principally from the hope folks have that if they do what we do, they too can meet the divine in this place of worship.  Truly - even bigger than our desire not to be embarrassed is our longing to be with God.

The hope guests have that they will be able to “pass through the door at the end of our service without getting mugged” likewise speaks to a very real and important desire that’s brought to a church visit.  Human beings desperately desire to be loved.  This is a fundamental need which every single one of us has, and it is one of the chief needs that are met in a healthy Christian community.  Sure, a church affiliation should challenge us too - and ask us to grow - but more than that, an encounter with the church – whether it’s a one-time drop in on a Sunday morning or a life long love affair – should always include a big warm embrace of affirmation and unconditional love.

We hope – we truly endeavor – to give that gift in our church worship:

- This is why we have “greeters” at the door: to welcome people with a smile and make them feel like this is home.

- This is what the exchange of the peace is about: a sharing through touch and spoken word of the “peace” that is ours to have and share because we know we are beloved of God in Christ.

- This is why we share communion at every Sunday morning in this place: as a reminder – a making real – of the truth that God loves us enough to battle death itself for our sake.

On most days – for those who come expecting the best of this community – some real sign of Christ’s presence and love for us will be given.  On most days there really will be some token, moment or experience of the unreserved and powerful affection the Lord has for every human being.

But guess what?  That wonderful experience can be undone at the church door when we demand – even with the very best of intentions – some work or change on the part of a guest.  “You need come to our coffee hour” we chirp.  “You’d love our adult Bible study,” we chime.  “You should be in our choir,” we crow.  And of course we mean well.  If you come to coffee hour you can meet nice people…if you come to our Bible study you’ll discover ways to hear “the word of the Lord” that are new and life-giving…if you sing in our choir, you’ll get to have cocktails at Gs every Thursday night!  It’s all good!

But what newcomers fear – and what they hear – is this: you need to change just a little bit if you’re really going to belong here.  What they hear is this: that shimmer of Christ’s embrace you felt there for a second this morning – well that’s contingent.  If you want to really be part of this place – if you want to feel that all the time – you’re going to have to do some work, because God doesn’t love you like you are…God can only love you if you change.  And that’s just not true…and we need to be careful not to accidentally send that message to folks.

Today is the first day of our church summer of course, and we’ll mix it up a little with some new, seasonal additions to our worship and new service times and a fun picnic later on this morning to welcome this rich time of year.  Please remember that during these long, hot summer days we’re likely to see more new faces around here.  People do a lot of church visiting in the summertime, it’s an easy season to explore and try new things.

Know that you are already a remarkably kind and welcoming community.  I really mean that.  When I describe Christ Church to people who don’t know us I inevitably say that we’re a community where Jesus is especially present in the relationships between our members…in the very deep commitment that you all have to loving each other.  That is simply not true of every church community…not in the way you make it true in this place.  We have a very special gift to give.

So let me encourage you to share that special grace of yours with intention and purpose, being truly and radically welcoming in this place.  Remember and serve the needs of the many strangers who come to this place with the earnest hope to see who we really are…to encounter the living God…and to experience the love that God offers.

We will make God smile with such effort!  We will give a tremendous gift to those who come to check us out.  And we will have our lives enriched too, as our lives and community are enriched by the talents, energy and experience of every new person who walks through our doors…

Bearing the gift of the presence of Jesus himself.

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +

Whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.
- Matthew 10:38

In this morning’s Gospel reading, Jesus offers some words of encouragement and caution to his first followers, who are discovering their devotion to Jesus – in addition to enriching their lives - is also causing them some real discomfort and trouble.  In the face of conflicts among family members, problems with neighbors and even persecution by strangers, Jesus says to his disciples:

- If they call me the devil, what did you think they were going to call you my followers?

- Don’t worry about the schemes and plots you’re hearing about – God knows all, and will protect you.

- And just to be clear, following me requires sacrifice.  If you are looking for peace and quiet, follow someone else.

It is do not be afraid on the one hand…and do not think that I have come to bring peace on the other.

This kind of robust language is Jesus’ bread and butter.  Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul…I have not come to bring peace but a sword…whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.  Yet though such language routinely appears in the New Testament, its meaning for our lives may not be plain.  Are our lives really troubled by our affiliation with the Episcopal Church?  Are we really persecuted as followers of Jesus?  Do we suffer because we are Christians?

Our readings from Matthew’s Gospel have with some consistency dwelt on the issue of suffering and persecution over the last two weeks.  On account of that, our senior high church school class considered two related questions over the past two Sundays.  Two weeks ago we asked, “Have you ever been laughed at because of your faith?”

And last week we asked, “Have you ever been persecuted because of your faith?”

The resounding answer that our youth gave to both those questions was, “No.  Not really.”

I am sure our senior-highers spoke for the vast majority of us when they told that awkward truth.  Though Jesus says his followers will be persecuted, that his way is difficult, that we can only find abundant life in sacrificial living, our day-to-day lives are rarely marked by such experience.  So what’s the disconnect?  If a measure of discomfort in life – at least at some level - is a mark of being a true follower of Jesus, then what’s it mean if we experience no such discomfort?

First let’s be clear.  A clue about the nature of the discomfort that Jesus speaks to lies written right in the middle of today’s Gospel reading.  “What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light,” says Jesus, “Everyone who acknowledges me before others, I will acknowledge before my Father in Heaven.”

We do experience discomfort in life – and persecution.  Some of you have lead – and lead – very difficult lives and none of us is free from the pain and suffering of body, mind and spirit that just goes with being human.  Nobody goes through life without someone coming after them.  But that’s not what Jesus is talking about today.  The question on the table is whether any discomfort ever arises in our lives because of something we say or do on account of what we believe about God.  The question is whether any discomfort ever arises in our lives because we are followers of Jesus.

There is probably no arena in your life – hardly a moment – when your commitment to Jesus cannot inform your words and actions in the world.  And the truth is that even after 2,000 years, what Jesus has to say to the world is still sufficiently new and challenging that if we proclaim it clearly – and live it boldly - we’re bound to stir up a little trouble.

We are nation at war.  For over five years now US troops have occupied the nation of Iraq.  As of last night 4,102 US troops have been killed, and 30,000 seriously wounded.  The most conservative estimate I could find this week tallied Iraqi deaths at over half a million people – 100 times the number of US casualties.

This congregation will have a variety of opinion on whether the US should have entered this war, whether it has been competently and ethically waged, and whether and how it should be ended.  There will also be among us much and meaningful common ground – most especially that it is appropriate to support – in whatever way we are able – the men and women of our armed services who put themselves in harm’s way.

But as followers of Jesus - who in word and action both shows us that the power of love and faith is ALWAYS greater than the power of violence – there are things that we can say – that we need to say – in the midst of this or any war:

- That cruelty and torture are ALWAYS wrong, regardless of the ends sought by their use.

- That every single human life – of any person anywhere – is valued beyond our comprehension by God.  Jesus lived and died every bit as much for the worst human tyrants as the most humble and kind souls.

- That any war prosecuted anywhere and for any reason is contrary to God’s will for humanity…that even a “just” war is not a “good” war…that in God’s economy warfare is always sinful.

But if we say such things, we will cause some trouble.  And there will be some discomfort in our lives.

Our nation’s economy is in rough shape right now.  And you don’t have to be an economist – or a politician – to see that times are hard and that something must be done to alleviate the human suffering that results when people can’t make ends meet.  So many of you have lived through the loss of a job – or are doing so right now – even as the cost of living goes up and up.  I’m waiting for the grocery store to install spinning dials like that gas station, because food prices are rising so fast.  If gas is four dollars and fifty cents right now, I can hardly imagine what heating oil will be this winter.

Jesus speaks to realities like these as well.  The culture of first century Palestine in many ways looks so much like ours that it’s kind of eerie:

- There was a strong, big government – the world’s only superpower! – that was equally beneficent and bloated.

- There were great and grave disparities between rich and poor.

- And people were inordinately worried about the future.

Folks came to Jesus with all the same troubles we live with now.  They needed health care.  They needed food.  They needed advice about how to live in a complex and sometimes predatory culture.  In every single case that I can think of, Jesus helped people who came to him in need.  And in every single case that I can think of, he told his followers to do the same.  By urging people NEVER to judge, never to allow themselves to think of one as “better” than another.  By expanding our definition of “neighbor” to include everyone with whom we come into contact.  By explicitly commanding us to “give to everyone who asks,” to take extra special care of the “least” among us…and when we are wronged, to forgive with virtually no limit.

We are not so good about walking in this way.  We deem certain offenders “habitual”, certain illnesses “untreatable” and certain people “hopeless.”  We have grown comfortable with isolating ourselves in our own homes, schools, clubs and friendship circles.  We have precious little sense of obligation to anybody we don’t hand pick as “worthy.”

Every human being is worthy of God’s love!  So every human being is worthy of our care and respect.  As followers of Jesus, if we encounter someone in need it is our sacred obligation to do something about that.  Even if it costs us money, time and pride.  Even if we don’t like the way that person in need looks, loves or lives.

And if we do that, we will cause some trouble.  And there will be some discomfort in our lives.

The more vexing and complex a political debate or social problem, the more likely I am to ask myself how Jesus would handle this thing.  And a consistent pattern emerges when I do that.

First, it always seems to me that Jesus would do something.  I can’t remember a time when Jesus says, “This is just too complicated…or, this just isn’t my problem.”

Second, Jesus seems to be a very micro-level, hands-on kind of a guy, and he seems to be OK with that.  He did not build hospitals, but rather helped sick individuals who came to him.  He never established a “soup kitchen,” but rather welcomed people to his table and every table at which he was ever seated.

Finally, Jesus always, always builds up the community – emphasizing and encouraging our interdependence – not only as a faith community but as all God’s children.  He makes us family members one and all: a great sprawling throng of brothers and sisters.

Have you ever been laughed at because of your faith?

Have you ever been persecuted because of your faith?

Even after 2,000 years, what Jesus has to say to the world is sufficiently new and challenging that if we proclaim it clearly – and live it boldly - we’re bound to stir up a little trouble.  Let’s do that my brothers and sisters.  Jesus says: go ahead and share my good news with the world.  Be brave to proclaim my name even though it may cost you.

Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my Father in heaven.  I’ll be with you if you will be with me, he says.

I’ll be with you…if you’ll be with me.

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed –

JSB +

Then one said, “I will surely return to you in nine months, and your wife Sarah will have a son.”  And Sarah was listening at the tent entrance behind him.
-Genesis 18:10-12

Despite the intense rays of the noonday sun, Abraham was comfortable.  It was shady under the canopy at the entrance to his tent, and his light, woolen robe reflected the heat away from his body, and made cool pockets of air next to his skin.  He had already done a good day’s work, and had a nice full feeling in his stomach from his noonday meal.  He was looking forward to his customary nap during the hottest part of the afternoon.

Oftentimes during peaceful moments like this, Abraham recalled the odd events of his long life.  He had long since gotten over the fear that he might be crazy because he heard the voice of the Holy One - blessed be he - with a clarity that few others did.  But still he marveled that he - of all people - had been singled out to enjoy such a wonderful and personal relationship with the Lord.  Crazy like a fox, he thought smiling to himself, as he looked out over the fertile lands surrounding his home.  From where he sat at the entrance to his tent, everything Abraham could see - out to the horizon in every direction - belonged to him.

There was no question the Lord had blessed Abraham among all people.  And if - as he approached his 100th year and the certainty that his death could come at any time - if things hadn’t worked out exactly as God had promised … well who was he to complain?  Abraham had but one disappointment in his life: “Look toward heaven and count the stars,” the Holy One - blessed be he - had said to Abraham many years ago, “so shall your descendents be.”

Oh the happiness of that moment!  All his anxiety and worry about the future had just dropped away as his powerful and just God had promised that despite all appearances, he and his beloved Sari would bear a child of their own.  But that was long, long ago. And the beautiful young Sari was now 90 year Sarah. And the only child it looked like Abraham would ever have was Ishmael - his son by Hagar the servant girl, who had long since disappeared - along with his mother - from his home and his life.  It was a bitter thing - that the Lord’s greatest promise to him should be the only one unkept.  But Abraham would not dwell on that pain.  He would not be ungrateful to the God who lifted him from obscurity, and made him a wealthy, powerful and happy soul.

The old man grunted to himself, and re-arranged his robe.  As he lifted his head and squinted out across the plain he saw three figures walking up the trail towards him and his tent.  Good heavens, thought Abraham to himself, where did you come from?  And why in the world are you traveling at this hour of the day?

He hastened from the entrance of his tent to meet them … and as he drew near, he bowed down to the ground at their feet.  Abraham was a most hospitable man.  The least I can do, Abraham always said, after all the Lord has done for me, is to repay my fellow creatures with kindness.  The old man took real pride in the hospitality he extended to strangers.  “My Lord,” said Abraham to all three men and none in particular, “if I might be so bold, won’t you stop and stay awhile?  I can at least provide some water for you to wash your tired feet, and you can rest under one of these shade trees. Let me bring you a little bread to eat … and then you can go on your way.  It would be my pleasure to serve you.”

Abraham loved this game.  He loved pretending to be a humble nomad -”servant” to those fortunate travelers who came his way looking for hospitality.  He loved watching travelers squirm as he bowed before them and begged them to “do him the favor” of letting him be of service, when they well knew that “Father Abraham” could buy and sell them a thousand times.

Because of his great wealth and power, travelers who accepted his invitation to stay awhile were normally quite embarrassed by his servile attitude.  Usually his guests quickly moved to set things right again: declining some of what he offered; pitching in to try and do their part in carrying some water or preparing some food … or in some other small way acknowledging that they were in fact his servants, and knew their place in the world.  But to Abraham’s surprise, these travelers behaved differently. “Do as you have said,” one of the three commanded him in a tone that while not disrespectful, was hardly fearful or embarrassed.

Abraham - surprised by the sound of the command - looked a little more carefully at his guests, and then in some confusion, rose, and turned into his tent, and called out to his wife and his servants.  “Sarah,” he cried, “quickly sift three measures of choice flour, knead it, and make some of your special cakes.  Eli and Ton my servants: go to the North pasture, and find a fine young calf, and slaughter it for roasting.  Ruth, my little one, cut some gourds and strain some curds, and prepare a large platter for eating.  Hurry everyone, hurry! And do your jobs well!”

There was a great bustling and confusion and everyone jumped to their assigned tasks.

After his wife and servants had departed, Abraham peered through the crack at the entrance of the great tent, and watched the figures of the three strangers as they settled themselves under the shade tree at the edge of the compound.  He had been in the presence of the Holy One - blessed be He - on many, many occasions in his long life.  He had learned to trust his instincts in these matters … and he had a strange feeling about these visitors.

Though the preparations for the meal were begun at the height of midday - hours before such work normally started - the task of locating, butchering and roasting a young calf took a long time.  The sun had set before all was at the ready.  And so, it was with some concern that he’d kept his guests waiting too long, that Abraham himself lead the procession of servants out into the pale blue of the early evening.  Everyone but Abraham bore a generous platter of food towards the circle of travelers, who were still patiently waiting under the tree.

The servants carefully set the meal before the guests: five platters of food -including tender, hot, roast meat, and a pitcher of good tea, made from fresh herbs soaked in cool well-water.  The guests watched silently as their places were set and the food was arranged in front of them.  Then the dutiful servants backed away and Abraham ceremoniously stepped forward and bid the three travelers, “Please eat.”

“But where is your wife, Sarah?” one of the three said to Abraham.

Abraham stumbled for a moment.  Normally, at a special evening meal such as this, the men ate alone, while the women, children and servants waited on them, and took their meal later. “Sarah is over there … in the tent,” the confused old man replied.

Now somewhat fearful that he had somehow offended or misunderstood his guests.
But then a visitor spoke up again, “I will return to you in nine months,” Abraham’s guest proclaimed, “and your wife Sarah will have a son.”

So incongruous was the guest’s utterance - so improbable the words - that for several seconds Abraham stared at his visitor in disbelief.  “How could he know that I lack an heir?”  Abraham thought to himself.  “How is it he dares insinuate himself into such a private matter?  But then - because he had that inkling that the identity of this stranger was somehow linked to the Lord of his life, he reconsidered the man’s words.  Could it be, he wondered, that at 90 and 100 years of age Sarah and I could still have our child?  No such thing has ever been seen or heard of before!  And yet if this is my Lord who speaks…

And that was the moment when Abraham’s thoughts were interrupted by a strange noise coming from the great tent.  He knew the timbre of Sarah’s voice so well, he recognized immediately that she was the one from whom the sound was coming.  At first he imagined she was crying.  He heard that odd, breathy, jerky noise of a body caught in the throws of irrepressible sadness.

The thought of his dedicated spouse being hurt by the comment of this strange visitor - a comment that surely cut her to the quick and made her remember again all the frustration and hurt of trying for so many years - without success - to bear him a child … well, for a moment, Abraham’s temper began to flair.  But then - as he continued to listen to the sound of his stricken wife in the tent - he suddenly recognized her cries for what they were…

Sarah was laughing.  Laughing hugely, and uncontrollably.  Laughing with gusto and abandon, which - despite her obvious attempts to muffle the sound - poured out from the tent in great gulps and guffaws.

So relieved was Abraham in that moment, that he too smiled.  He smiled because he was suddenly filled with love for his wife: like he was a newlywed again.  He loved her spirit!  He loved her faith!  He loved her honesty!  He loved her abundant good humor!  Oh, he knew his Sarah, and he loved her well.  He knew she laughed in incredulity … he knew she laughed in derision…he knew she laughed because she thought the idea of a ninety year old woman bearing a child was so absurd that she could not contain her disbelief.

But as he bit his lip to keep from chuckling himself, in the face of the three solemn countenanced visitors in front of him, Abraham knew something else too.  Abraham knew - somehow he just knew - that the Holy one – blessed be he! - was going to keep his promise after all!  Look towards heaven and count the stars – so shall your descendants be.  And in that moment of insight and revelation, Abraham’s heart leaped with joy…

Oh, he tried not to smile!  But it was no easy task … for his beloved Sarah’s infectious giggling still bubbled up out of their tent.  And filled the cool, cobalt night with the sound of pure joy…

The sound of a promise kept.

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +

Glory to you, Father, Son and Holy Spirit;
we will praise you and highly exalt you forever.
- Canticle 13

Today is the feast of the holy Trinity.  Today we open up our eyes and our hearts and our minds just as widely as we possibly can, and try to take in and celebrate the true nature of God.

Mary was my first love.  It was the summer of our nation’s bicentennial and seventh grade was coming to a close.  Mary was a classmate, best buds at the time with an old friend of mine who’d introduced us earlier in the year.  Mary and I had warily eyed one another for several months, competing for the attention of our mutual pal and snarking at one another over lunch and at our lockers in the halls of Lewis & Clark Junior High.  In the timeless tradition of the schoolyard, we fought because we liked each other.  But on the last day of seventh grade – ever etched in my memory, Thursday June 3, 1976, Mary changed my life changed forever.

We were dismissed early on that final day of school.  A group of friends walked to the nearby Anderson house and gathered in Nancy’s basement to celebrate the beginning of the summer.  We played the first side of Boston’s debut album over and over again.  We gossiped about peripheral friends.  After awhile, we decided to go to the park.  Memorial Park is a vast, grassy expanse in the middle of Omaha.  My house was across the street from the park and I’d played there through my whole childhood: hunting crows with a bow and arrow, sledding in the winter…exploring the creek when the weather was warm.  It felt good and familiar to stroll around with friends that day.

I can’t remember how it developed that Mary and I ended up alone sitting in a grove of tall pine trees at one end of the park, while another couple of friends ended up in solitude under another batch of tress at the park’s other end.  I do remember that a fifth and final member of what was once a larger party began shuttling back and forth between the two couples, reporting on who was talking about what and what was going on when nobody was looking.   It did not take me long to realize that I was at the edge of something big.  The conversation between Mary and I got quieter and quieter, somehow more and more awkward and more and more graceful both at once.

It was a gorgeous day.  Not too hot yet on the prairie, bright sun dappling through the shade of the grove of great pines, our hard first year of junior high just completed and the whole, long summer still ahead.  I could hardly bear the perfection of the moment, and it was Mary who had to take charge.  With a dramatic evocation of my last girlfriend - whom I’d notoriously failed to ever kiss out of the sheer terror of the thing - Mary turned and looked meaningfully at me with huge blue eyes.  “I’m not Katherine,” she said.  And she kissed me.  Forever.

That fist-ever kiss inaugurated a blissful summer.  Mary and I went to the local swimming pool together.  We talked on the phone incessantly.  We’d meet with the gang at Nancy’s basement and slow dance to Barry Manilow singing “Weekend in New England.”  We met for walks in the park alone.  It was a dreamy, rich and wonderful time.  Paradise for shy, skinny, Scott.

At the turn of June to July I went on a two week road trip with my dad and grandpa – my first ever visit to the East Coast.  I bid goodbye to Mary with a heavy heart and jumped in the car with the other Barker men.  It was a great trip.  We walked the Freedom Trail and ate at No Names in Boston…we saw the Liberty Bell and ate at Bookbinders in Philly.  We spent the fourth of July in New York City eating at Mama Leone’s after a show, and looking at all the tall ships that had come to the city from around the world for the big day.  But over the whole span of our two weeks together on the road, part of me was back in Nebraska.  What was the gang doing in Nancy’s basement?  Had Mary’s big sister had anymore cool parties in my absence?  Did Mary miss me as much as I missed her?

I made my dad and grandpa listen to my music in the car on the road.  It was Thin Lizzy wailing out their classic anthem as we drove through Council Bluffs and crossed the river back into Omaha in the early evening on the night of our return: The Boys are Back in Town! the band sang.  Yes indeed.  And the boy called Mary as soon as he got home.

It was an unusually awkward call from the start.  Mary seemed surprised to hear my voice (hadn’t she been counting the hours like me?)  She was reticent to meet me at the park (what – but we love the park!)  Finally she blurted out the most terrible words I could have imagined, “I’m breaking up with you.”

I was utterly crestfallen.  But we held hands!  We talked and talked!  Our friends all said we were a great couple!  What happened?  How could she do that to me?
I learned in the ensuing weeks that what seemed unthinkable and inexplicable to me was not so different for Mary.  She was not really sure why she ended our romance.  She was not mad at me.  She wasn’t bored.  There was no one else.  She just wanted to break up.  That’s what teenagers did, it seemed.  I just had not learned that yet.  It was a hard lesson.

George Herbert wrote:

Then didst thou place us in Paradise, and [we were] proceeding still on in thy Favors, until we interrupted thy Counsels, disappointed thy Purposes, and sold our God, our glorious God, for an apple.

This is what we do.  Set in the midst of all the wonders and riches of life: a creation teaming with abundance, surrounded by people with potential for life-giving and holy relationships, blessed with talents and gifts that give us power to live lives of extraordinary purpose and great meaning, we blow our inheritance and sabotage paradise.  For the smallest – the most arbitrary and empty reasons – we turn our backs on grace, and betray all the golden “might have beens” for just a moment’s pleasure or power:

- The parent who in a fit of anger says the thing that should never have been said to their child, and so undermines their confidence and self assuredness for years.

- The spouse who succumbs one time to the temptation of an affair, and so invites a secret stranger to forever dwell in the household.

- The soldier who succumbs in a moment of exhaustion and rage to committing an act of brutality that scars the memory and conscience for all his living days.

- The student who sees a simple way to cheat, and for a grade on a sophomore quiz is haunted forever.

It happens every day - and everywhere - in every human life.  At work, at school at home and yes – at church.  It happens between friends and enemies, strangers and lovers, and human beings and the Lord.

The old fashioned word for it is sin, and that is not such a bad word.  Our prayerbook says:

Sin is the seeking of our own will instead of the will of God, thus distorting our relationship with God, with other people, and with all creation.

Sin is what happens when human beings fail to honor the image of God in the world and in one another.  It is because of sin that we were cast out of paradise in the most ancient story of our faith…and it is by sin that we distort and destroy those remnants of paradise that we encounter in this life.  God placed us in paradise.  And we turn our backs on it…for nothing.

Our hope in the face of this madness lies entirely outside of ourselves and that is a fortunate thing.  For as all of us will discover – should we live long enough and try hard enough and with sufficient sincerity – it really is beyond our power to always and in every moment of life act in accordance with God’s will.  And whether our inability to always “do the right thing” speaks to the depth of our own human brokenness – or to the fallenness of a creation in which now dwell – hardly matters.  Without some help coming from quite outside of ourselves we’re sunk.

In the face of the truth that we are not able not to sin, we need to know that even when we fail, it’s worth getting up and trying again.  That life is still worth living.  We need to know that there is a remedy for the hurt we do when the wounds we inflict are too deep for any apology or attempt at reconciliation to mend.  We need to know – most fundamentally of all - that despite our sin, we are still beloved.

“Then didst thou place us in Paradise,” says Herbert:

…and [we were] proceeding still on in thy Favors, until we interrupted thy Counsels, disappointed thy Purposes, and sold our God, our glorious God, for an apple.

Then did the Lord of life, unable of himself to die, contrive to do it. He took flesh, he wept, he died; for his enemies he died; even for those that derided him then, and still despise him. Blessed Savior! Many waters could not quench thy love.

Today is the feast of the holy Trinity.  Today we open up our eyes and our hearts and our minds just as widely as we possibly can, and try to take in – and to celebrate – the true nature of our God.  And what we discover when we dare to look down deep and all out wide is this:  our God is glorious, powerful and gracious - three times any god we can even imagine.  Simultaneously inhabiting our human past, present and future in one unbounded now.  Acting in the world in concurrent streams of power: at once creating, redeeming and sustaining everything that is.  Calling us eternally by the love of the Christ into the paradise of knowing and following the Holy One…through worship, service and love.

What we discover when we dare to look down deep and all out wide is this: that God’s person and grace are more than we could ever conceive, and yet that God’s will for us is as simple and holy and wondrous as a first kiss on a summer day: only that we love God back…and loves one another.

I saw Mary at my twentieth high school reunion and introduced her to the still greater love of my life.  She had grown into a lovely woman and all was well with her.  The bi-centennial breakup which had seemed so devastating at the time – and the first romance which preceded it - had all become part of our lives stories, which we could tell with relish and delight and now laugh over together.  And that is sign of God’s grace and power.  Small human betrayals can be the genesis of much greater pains than you’d think, like small cuts that become infected and life threatening.  There is no small sin.  We’re either with God or not.

But Mary and I have lived and learned.  In time discovering more and more about ourselves: who we were…what we believed in…what was worth holding onto and what needed to be cast away.

Since that summer 31 years ago I have learned in countless ways - through family, friends, faith communities, prophets, priests teachers and other loves – I’ve learned about God too…about the depth and breadth of God’s love for us.

I’ve learned that even when we fail, it is worth getting up and trying again.  I have learned that there is a remedy for the hurt I caused – even when the wounds I inflict on others are too deep for any human apology or attempt at reconciliation to mend.  I have learned that despite my mistakes – despite anything I might do – I am still beloved.  I’ve learned that nothing can quench God’s love for us.

And that gets very close to the heart of the mystery that we celebrate this Trinity Sunday.  The mystery of a God – our glorious God - who is all grace, loving the whole creation to the end of the ages.

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +

This should clear things up…

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +

“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit.”

We don red today, pray different prayers than usual, and sing with gusto the praises of the third person of the holy trinity.  Today is Pentecost – the feast of the Holy Ghost.  This is the day we celebrate the presence of God’s Holy Spirit in our Church and in our lives.

It is a common critique of Episcopalians that we are not sufficiently attuned to the presence and power of the Holy Ghost.  When Christians from different church communities try to shorthand who they are - as compared to some other - there are many who will identify themselves as particularly welcoming of the Spirit in their midst.  They might describe themselves as “charismatic” (which means, literally “gifted” as in gifted by the Holy Spirit) or they might call themselves “pentecostal,” or affirm that they are “spirit-filled.”  When Christians make such claims about their communities it is usually in a not-too-subtle critique of other believers.  Obviously, when a person or denomination tries to describe it’s uniqueness by saying, “We are charismatic,” part of what is being said is that some others are not.

That is a problem.  As the third person of our one triune God, the Spirit is part and parcel of the Father and the Son.  Truly – you cannot have any one without the other.  A “Spirit-less” church is no church at all!

No church community or denomination can be all things to all people.  We have our differences – unique strengths and weaknesses every one.  We can thank God for that – for it is a part of God’s plan for the Church that we are differently gifted parts of the same body.  Just as “many members” make up each church family like this one, the great manifestation of the many-membered body of Christ – of which Paul writes in this morning’s reading from First Corinthians - is the world-wide, multifaceted, wondrous and glorious Church of Christ, a body composed of countless denominations blessed with - and bearing - individual gifts for the good larger body with Jesus as our one head.

But our differences of worship style, prayer language, music and even theology – meaningful though they are – do not include among them Christian communities both with and without the Holy Spirit.  The Spirit is present and wonderfully manifest in every Christian community throughout the world.   Including the one assembled here and now!

One evidence of the Spirit’s presence in our midst is found in the enthusiasm, creativity and joy that is so often and dependably a part of our common experience.  Luke writes of these phenomena in the story we read from the Book of Acts this morning in the story of that Pentecost which fell just weeks after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection when the Holy Ghost descended visibly on the disciples and filled them with God’s Spirit as Jesus had promised.  “They were filled with the holy Spirit” the story says, “and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.”

It is a miracle.  And the emotions felt by those present, as well as the ambiance in that place and moment, defies clear description.  As is often the case with the miracles of the Bible, the objective facts of the moment are not entirely clear for us.  Something big happened – something highly unusual.  Some people saw it one way and some people saw it another.  Some standing there see God working in a clear and purposeful way: gifting the disciples with new power to speak in many languages and new confidence to tell, right then and there, the story of Jesus and the Good News.  Others witnesses see the same scene of noisy exuberation and draw an entirely different conclusion about what’s happening.  “These guys are drunk,” they say, “And it’s darn early in the morning to be having this kind of party!”

What we know for sure is this.  It was noisy.  It was fun.  It was different.  People were talking and telling stories and behaving as if they were celebrating … as if they were having the time of their lives.  And for the believers present it all added up to one clear thing: the Spirit is here!

Haven’t you experienced the same kind of joyful, emotional high – coupled with bursts of creative and life-giving energy – as a member and participant in the life of this community?  I think of Applefest each year – when Christ Church folk by the dozen spill out into the church yard with happy shouts and evident joy – and labor to set up tables, cook food, staff the Thrift Shop and in scores of other ways seek to show how great we are and to welcome others and to make some money to fund the church’s work.  I think of the women’s activities I’ve occasionally crashed in this community: the buzz around the table at the WCC Christmas dinner or Spring picnic which bespeaks an energy and excitement that is truly unique and deeper in meaning and potential than the usual hum at a party, because it is your common life in Jesus that brings you to the table.  I think of the exchange of our “peace” which people routinely experience as a moment when something very special happens in this community.  More than friends saying “hi” to one-another on a Sunday morning, our exchange of the peace conveys to those present a sense of joy and life abundant that quite defies description.

When the witnesses of that first Pentecost describe what they see and hear, they are in agreement that Jesus’ followers are noisy, joy-taking, good news sharing folks.  But they interpret differently what’s going on depending on their personal beliefs and perspective.  For my money – in this community – when noisy exhuberation is coupled with bursts of creativity and kindness that observers and participants alike experience as special and different – that is a perfect proof of the Spirit in our midst.

Saint Paul says, “In the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body.  We were made to drink of one spirit.”

There is a profound connection between Baptism and the Holy Spirit.  The sacrament of baptism is both a celebration of the presence of the Spirit in our lives and also – truly - a means by which that Spirit is made present in this community.  It is exactly this connection between Baptism and the Holy Ghost that is the reason baptism is so important in the Episcopal Church:

- It’s the reason Baptism has pride of place in our prayer book: the first sacrament to appear in its pages.

- It’s the reason Baptism is never denied to those who come seeking it – though their connection to this community may be a little shaky…though their understanding of what baptism “means” may be incomplete.

- It’s the reason we say that “membership” in the church starts and ends with Baptism: the one, single, inescapable and unrepeatable act that joins us forever to Jesus and the Church.

Something happens in Baptism.  It really does.  When we go down into those waters and are buried with Christ in his death – when we come up from those waters united with Christ in his resurrection from the dead – we are changed.  In Baptism we are empowered in a new and wondrous way…joined to God in Christ and by the Sprit for eternity.  In Baptism we say, we are “Sealed by the Holy Spirit…marked as Christ’s own forever.”

It is true that people experience Baptism in different ways.  The intentional and deliberate repentance of sin - in the life of an adult who’s been out in the world and done some real harm and has some real regrets is going to “feel” a lot different than the gentle sprinkle of warmth an infant might feel at the time of their Baptism.  It should come as no surprise that in traditions where adult Baptism is the norm, the newly baptized are often swept up in an almost indescribable ecstasy: unburdened of guilt and shame – filled with hope for a new kind of life.

But the presence of the Spirit – welcomed, affirmed and assured in the life of the newly baptized – is no less real and powerful, whether the newly baptized is baby or an adult and regardless of whether the fleeting human emotions attached to the moment are felt as powerful or not.  We know the Spirit is present in this community because the celebration of the sacrament of Baptism is such an important part of our common life. 
Finally this morning, here is a biggie.  Perhaps the clearest and most powerful evidence of the Holy Spirit in this place and in each of our lives.  “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.”

Christianity is fundamentally about grace.  Grace (that is the gift of unmerited and undeserved love) in the character of God as apprehended by Christians, and made known to us most clearly and potently in the teaching – and sacrifice – of Jesus.  And part of what we affirm as followers of Jesus, though it’s a hard teaching in many ways, is that there is nothing at all that we can do to earn, merit, or will the gift of this divine love.  When Paul says, “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit,” this is what he’s getting at.  Even that simplest – and seemingly willful act of faith – just saying that “Jesus is Lord” – is something we are capable of only because the Holy Spirit it already present in our lives.

It is the Spirit which hovers over all creation and by which God creates our bodies, our minds and our voices – enabling us to confess “Jesus is Lord” or to day or do anything else at all in life.  It is by the Spirit that we come to know God in any way – as it is the power and presence of the Holy Ghost that convicts us of our sins and turns us to God.  It is by the Spirit that our Bible was written and so the stories of our faith preserved for us to share and celebrate.  It is by the Spirit that some faithful Christian somewhere witnessed once to you that there is value and meaning in following after Jesus, and inspired you to check him out for yourself.  It is by the Spirit that we are “inspired” to any act of kindness or faithfulness in this life: whether a work of service…an act of mercy…or a simple confession of faith.  “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.”  You’re ability to speak these words is all the evidence you need to be assured that you are “in the Spirit.”

Don’t let you – or your church – be described as Spirit-less.  You are surrounded by proofs of the Holy Spirit’s presence and power in your life.  The Spirit is present and wonderfully manifest in every Christian community throughout the world…

Including the one assembled here and now!

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +

And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world.
- Form John Chapter 17

This morning we celebrate the Feast of the Ascension – transferred to this Sunday morning from Thursday when the feast day actually fell this week.  Our Collect for the day and our Bible readings speak to our shared belief that at the end of his earthly days, Jesus is exalted to the highest place imaginable in heaven or earth.  Jesus now sits, we say, “at the right hand of God the Father.”  Our readings both tell of this event, and offer encouragement for the faithful in the face of this new development.

We are bound to speak of this exaltation of Jesus to heaven in human language, for we have no other.  But the utterly unique events of which we tell this day and the limitations of our language to describe what happened - are very plain.  We know that heaven though very real is not a place that can be flown to by bodily lifting up from the bonds of earth.  Jesus’ ascension – whatever that was whatever it looked like – was not merely the physical lift-off of a human being like a rocket, soaring to break the hold of gravity.  And we know that to dwell with-and-in-and-by God the Creator, does not mean that Jesus literally takes a seat in a “chair” by God’s “right hand,” as if heaven were furnished like our living rooms and as if God has human hands at all.

Jesus’ early followers did their level best to explain what happened to them in these wondrous days following the resurrection, but they are thwarted at every turn by the uniqueness of their experience and the limits of their language and imagination to interpret these events…and to help us understand.

They saw their risen friend Jesus.  They experienced the real, true, bodily, certain presence of Jesus himself risen from the dead: and yet that same Jesus is always, always unrecognizable to them when first they encounter him in his risen state.
They experience miracles of an utterly new and astonishing nature, which most unsettling now emanate from them.  Peter becomes a healer.  Humble Stephen the first martyr.  And the whole band of disciples – once unable to interpret the simplest parable – become the greatest preachers ever known, able to share the Gospel in every tongue.

These are strange new experiences, which defy easy explanation or categorization.   And it must be said that in some ways the strangest of all the things that happen following Jesus’ resurrection from the dead is that event which we recall and celebrate this day.  How at the close of Jesus’ days on earth, the incarnate Jesus visibly and forever disappears from the lives of his followers, and yet almost the very first somehow remains with them too, real for them (and for us) in a new presence – a new person – tangible, powerful and “with us” just as he promised, even to the end of the age.

Mary Hinkle writes about the Ascension in The Christian Century:

The Ascension is not a picture of a risen Christ who leaves the disciples and goes into retirement (as if the Son sinks down into a throne at the right hand of the Father and says, “whew, am I glad that job is done!”).  Instead the ascension gives us a picture of Jesus as an advance worker for his followers…

Jesus leaves the disciples not in order to retire, but to go ahead of them on behalf of that message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins that will be preached to all nations.

He points them forward in time, and forward also from Jerusalem to Judea to the ends of the earth.

The ascension is not the end of the story…not for Jesus, and not for us.  The encouragement this story offers is not principally the assurance that Jesus “goes before us to heaven” and waits to meet us there.  Though that is certainly true and gives us real comfort.  The encouragement this story offers is for living in this here and now, and in every here and now between that miraculous moment of Jesus’ ascension and that day when will come again in great glory.  “You will receive power,” he says, “You will be my witnesses,” he says, “I will not leave you comfortless” he says.

Though life may at times be hard, says Jesus, though my ways may remain mysterious, I am with you always.

In this morning’s Gospel reading Jesus prepares to be “lifted up.”  He speaks to his dispels of what lies ahead and encourages them about where to go and what to do.  He looks up to heaven – where soon he will dwell with the Lord – and he prays to God and instructs his followers both.  He says:

Father the hour has come…glorify your Son.  I have finished the work that you have given me to do…I have made your name known.

All mine are your and yours are mine…and now – though I am no longer in the world they are in the world – protect them God in your name that you have given me.  Make them one as we are one.

It is beautiful prayer.  A prayer of affirmation about “who Jesus is.”  A prayer of the peace he knows as his work is completed.  And it is a prayer which calls us to a particular ministry and witness as his followers: to be One.  That is, to be in mutual, loving, forgiving and meaningful relationship with one another.

But here’s the thing.  Jesus does not pray this prayer before his ascension.  Jesus does not impart these words of encouragement before being lifted up to heaven and taking his place at God’s right hand.  This “ascension prayer” we read from John’s Gospel this morning is the prayer that Jesus prays with his disciples as they are setting out on a short walk across a Jerusalem valley called Kidron…to a lovely Garden they know, called Gethsemane.  This is the prayer that Jesus prays before his passion and crucifixion and death.  This is the prayer that Jesus prays before being “lifted up” …on the cross.

“The ascension does not back away from paradox,” H. K. Oehmig writes:

The humiliated reigns.  The crucified one is also the exalted one.  The rejected one is God’s redeemed and glorified one…

The ascension makes a bold hope-filled assertion to all of us who dwell in this fallen world.  That is that whatever happens to us in this dimension called “earthly existence” is always the next-to-last thing.  Christ with the saints in light, is our final destination.

The cross lies before us in its many and various forms.  It would not be “life” – and we would not be human – if we never experienced the pain and suffering - the loneliness and the struggle - that challenge us as children of God.  But Jesus goes before us.  He shows us the way.  By his life, death, resurrection and ascension he helps us understand the work to which we are called in these rich, flying days of human life.

And he comforts us with this knowledge: that there is no hurt he cannot heal…there is no conflict to which he cannot bring peace…there is no sin he cannot forgive…there is no experience he cannot redeem.

There is no place to which we can journey – in heaven or on earth – to which Jesus has not gone before.

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +

A friend passed along this profound image of our common hope for peace and goodwill among all humankind…

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed (and have some fun!)

JSB +

I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
- John 14:6

I wrote this reflection about a five year old, and a seven year old, that I once knew.

Sometimes I feel for them such deep and consuming affection, the only expression of joy that will suffice is to lift them up in my arms, and hug them as tightly as their still-small bodies can bear, and plaster the cheeks and necks with wet kisses.  Sometimes they make me so angry in their obstinacy and their willfulness and their deliberate deceitfulness…that it’s all I can do to keep from striking them.

Sometimes I miss them so much - even when we’ve been apart just for a few hours - that I leave vital work undone at the office and violate traffic laws to hustle back home and into their presence.  Sometimes their constant, physical, demands for attention - their neediness - is so suffocating, that I find myself bodily pushing them away from me…in a desperate move to show my independence…my “otherness.”

Sometimes I reel from how quickly they learn, how fast they grow, how speedily they change.  And sometimes I long for them to hurry up: to be more responsible, to be more thoughtful, to get with it and grow-up…and be more like me.

Caring for them is the most taxing and difficult work of my life.  It requires resources of creativity, patience, discipline, awareness, vigilance, kindness, loyalty and affection beyond any job or relationship I have ever experienced.  They require of me all the best I have to give.

On the one hand, I know them better than any other that walks this earth.  I have held them, stroked them, dressed them and bathed them.  I have changed their diapers, wiped their noses, cleaned their ears, mopped up their vomit, cut their nails and brushed their hair.  I know the names of their friends, their secret friends, and all of their stuffed animals.  I know what they’re good at in school, and what they need to work harder at.  I know their talents, I know their shortcomings.  I know where to tickle them…and I know what I could say that would break their hearts.  On the one hand, I know them better than any other that walks this earth.

One the other hand, I hardly know them at all.  They exist entirely apart from me, and inhabit their own world….and their own being.  They have likes and dislikes unknown to me.  Real relationships of which I am not a part, and unique experiences which they initiated…the impact on their lives of which I don’t begin to understand.  They have fears and hopes and dreams that I do not share…and will never know.   On the one hand I know them better than any two human beings that walk this earth.  On the other hand I hardly know them at all.  They are their own people…they are independent, unique…entirely themselves.

I am determined to be what they need, whatever the cost.

I am determined to provide for them, to protect them, and to help them grow into the full stature of whoever they are called to be.  There is nothing I wouldn’t do for them. No pain I would not bear, no hurt I would not take on as my own.  I fear so much for them.  They still seem so little to me…they still seem to have so much to learn.  I worry about them all the time - but especially when they are not in my care.  I worry especially when they are mad at me…when they would push me away.  Because they need me, still. They really do.

But I also know that one of their needs is for me to give them room, to let them make mistakes, to let them make their own way in the world, even if that means they will be hurt…even if that means their lives will be at risk.  I know that they are finally free, and that someday soon - probably sooner than I can imagine - I will have to let them go.

And this may be the hardest thing.  And it is surely the thing that frightens me most.  I fear letting them go: because I know about the world they long to explore: I know how dangerous and mean and seductive it can be.  And I fear that they will be hurt.  Or die.  Or maybe worst of all, I fear that they will leave me and never come back.

They are the most astonishing creation to which I have contributed in all my years on this planet, and I know that nothing I will accomplish in the rest of my days could ever be their equal.

Our relationship is a great paradox.  They need me - but they need me to let them be free.  They bring me joy - but they create more work and pain in my life than anything else.  I know they love me but I also know that I infuriate them by always trying to do what’s best for them even when it’s the last thing they want done.   I long to keep them close to my heart - but ultimately that means letting them decide whether they will love me back or no.

Most of all…most of all there is the bond between us.  There is the intimacy.  They have sprung from my very flesh.  Our organs and marrow match.  They have inherited my genes.  They dwell in my house.  I gave them my name.  There is no other relationship in this world like the one I have with them.  I can never put them out of mind.  I can hardly forget them for a moment.  There is no greater intimacy imaginable than the one we share.  I crave their affection as much as anything in the world.  When they cuddle in my lap, or hold my face still and look into my eyes when they have something important to tell me…when they pick the lint out of my belly button…my heart leaps.

For me, there is nothing in the world like being called, “Dad.”

“I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

So says Jesus in this morning’s Gospel reading from St. John.

For 2,000 years Christians have called God “Father” because that is what Jesus does and it is what Jesus invites us to do.  And the truth is that this language has caused scandal for all those 2,000 years.  That word “Father” is a real stumbling block for many.

- Sometimes it has caused offense because of the presumption of status it bestows upon humanity.  As if you or I are so important that we dare call ourselves “children” of God.  As if we could be heirs of the Creator!

- Sometimes this language has caused scandal because of the limitations it puts on the Almighty.  As if all that God is – that One who brought the whole creation into being - could be adequately described by such a simple, human word.  As if THAT word especially – which for so many people is tainted with memories of being exploited, hurt or abandoned by a human “father” – as if THAT word is good enough to talk about God.

- And sometimes the scandal is felt because calling God “Father” would seem to elevate earthly “fathers” – and perhaps all males behind that - to some special place.  Why can’t we call God “mother” – why can’t women share in the special feeling of sharing God’s name?

Well – along with many others, “Father” is the word we’ve inherited.  It is an imperfect word – as any word or paragraph of words will surely be to explain for us who God is and how our relationship with God could be.  But rather than throw it out – because it cannot say it all or because so many of us had “fathers” who were not up to the name -  I wonder of we might use and honor it for what it does have to offer.

“Father” does not so much say something about God as it does about the character of the relationship into which God invites all of human creation.  When we call God “Father” we affirm that we wish to participate in the same deep, warm, complicated, paradoxical and most of all intimate kind of love that healthy dads and moms have for their children.  We are invited to let God be our parent and so to call God, “Dad.”

Jesus is the first one ever to make this radical claim of intimacy with God in quite such a profound way.  Jesus claims to be God’s Son.  And what he’s saying to us this morning is, “I’ll show you the way.  If you want to have this kind of intimate relationship with God, then follow me.  I have made the way plain.”

I think it’s an image - and a word - worth using.  I think we will lose something if we don’t.

There are many, many names for God which are celebrated in the Church and come to us straight from the pages of Holy Scripture and the mouths of the prophets – and our Christ – behind all that.  These many names are each one good and holy and each one helpful for you and me as we seek to understand more deeply and truly who God is for us.  And the fact of these many and different names: YHWH, Spirit, Wisdom, Rock, Word, Lord, Creator, Holy One and all the rest, helps us to remember that any experience or image we may have for God will be too small to say all that needs to be said…or to work for every particular person in every different culture, time or place.

So use the name you will.  But know that having permission to cal God “Father” is a gift.  It is one of our inheritances from Jesus who was God’s only begotten child, and by whom we too become members of God’s family.  It is not a name meant to identify God as male or to subjugate women or to elevate human fatherhood above other loving relationships.   It is a word – a name for God – meant to make very clear and real a quality of relationship into which human beings may enter…

The particular, caring, devoted, relentless, intimate and paradoxical bond that exists between parent and child.  Between us children of God…and our Father.

Keep Running, Keep Praying, Godspeed -

JSB +