Coming Home to You, Part 1: Who We Are

 

James 3:13-4:3,7-8

Mark 9:30-37     

In all the preparations for returning to our sanctuary for worship, I have had St. Augustine of Hippo on my mind. I’ll tell you why.

Augustine was born in 354 in a Roman province that is now part of Algeria, in Africa. Important for us to know: Augustine was an African.

His mother, Monica, was a Christian. Augustine was raised as a Christian, but like a lot of kids, he didn’t seem to be terribly serious about it. He was a smart, and probably cocky, little guy. He ran around with a rowdy bunch and got into plenty of trouble. In his teens, he became enthralled with philosophy and embraced a religion called Manicheism, which was very popular at the time. Just about killed his mom, but she never gave up on him.

He was willful and wayward and at 17 began a relationship with a young woman, whose name we don’t know. She bore his son – Adeodatus, which means Gift from God. Augustine and this woman never married, but the relationship lasted many years, during which time Augustine never stopped exploring spiritual things. Gradually he seemed to be finding his way back to the church.

He separated from this woman during a time when his faith journey was intensifying – he was discerning a call to the priesthood.

But he wasn’t quite ready yet! Augustine apparently still felt he had some wild oats to sow. During these tumultuous and emotional years, he is famously said to have uttered this prayer: “God grant me chastity and continence, but not yet.”

Thank God for his mentors, his teachers, friends, and of course Monica, his mother. These are the ones who gave him the steadfast support and wise guidance he needed to find his way to faith.

He followed the path to priesthood and was ordained in 391. It was here, finally, in the church, Augustine put his great intelligence to good use. He was prolific in his thinking and writing, crafting much of the church doctrine that we have today. And it should be said that John Calvin, the founder of our Reformed faith, was deeply influenced by Augustine – this is clear in Calvin’s writing.

Some years after his conversion to Christianity, Augustine wrote the book that he is most personally identified with – The Confessions. It is an account of his faith journey. If you have heard anything about it you probably have heard about the spicy details of his past, all those things he now repents of. But you should also know that it is brimming, overflowing, with gratitude. Augustine cannot adequately express how thankful he is to God, because from this vantage point, at last, he can see things clearly.

He can see that for so many years he was running around here and there all over God’s world, greedily taking what he wanted. His intellectual curiosity took him through explorations of all kinds of things, and his physical appetites drove him in other directions. He was talented, but unfocused. Intelligent but without wisdom. Until he found his way home.

As Augustine writes to God in his confessions, “belatedly, I love you…You were within and I was without…You were with me and I was not with you…yet you opened my deafness…chased away my blindness…I breathed you in and now I pant for you…I tasted and now I hunger and thirst…You touched me and now I burn for your peace.”

The man had a way with words, didn’t he?

St. Augustine has been on my mind because I have been so aware of the importance of finding our way home. And it has two meanings for us now - the spiritual meaning, that God is our heart's home, is one. But also, a more material meaning, as we have longed to return to our church home, this sanctuary. This is a place we so deeply and dearly associate with our spiritual journeys. Here in these pews we have opened our hearts to God and cried out our deepest fears and hurts and longings. Prayers for God to take away the disease of our loved ones. Prayers full of our hard questions about why things happen that no one ever wants to happen; these things challenge our faith, and we cry out like the father who brought his son to Jesus saying, “Help me in my unbelief.”

We have sat together here and asked God to bring his reign of peace, bring an end to war and pestilence and hunger, as we watched humanity in one place and another wreak havoc and destruction.

We have confessed our own sins, the roles we have played in the pain and suffering in this world, repenting of our trespasses, and seeking God’s grace to help us do better. We have given our prayers of thankfulness for the blessings we have received, the gifts God has bestowed on us, the joy we find in the life God has given us.

And, like Augustine, we have found strength and sustenance and direction from the saints that surround us – those who share the pews with us and those who came before us, whom we remember with thanksgiving and love. We know that we are not, and can never be, on this journey alone. For all the times we have drifted away, and someone called us back. For all the dark and confused times, when someone gave us a light to find our way. For all the times we needed someone to help us know who we are.

Today is a day of thanksgiving.  We give thanks for all the faithful, past and present, who have played a role in giving us this sanctuary. We give thanks for God’s steadfast love and mercies, new every day. To recommit ourselves to God, is good and right for us to do.

Today we begin the journey of coming home to God, following in the footsteps of St. Augustine who prayed thusly:

You are great, Lord, and greatly to be praised. Great is your power and your wisdom is immeasurable. Humankind, a little piece of your creation, desires to praise you. We carry the evidence of our sin and the witness that you resist the proud. Nevertheless, we desire to praise you. You stir us to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.

Amen.

Photo: Lana Foley Photography

Do You Know Jesus?

 

Mark 8:27-38     

Do you know what Jesus looks like?  Would you recognize him if you saw him pushing a cart at the Food Lion or walking down Division Street?  Do you know Jesus?

I think I would recognize him – you know, from the pictures.  If he hasn’t changed his hair, that is, his beautiful long wavy hair.  And if he still wears those long flowing robes, definitely I would recognize him.  If he hasn’t changed his style too much, I would know him.  But even if he has I would know his blue eyes, his beautiful smooth skin.  You all have seen the pictures, too, right?  You know.  Our Jesus is beautiful.

The Warner Sallman painting, The Head ofChrist, is the one.  When Americans imagine the face of Jesus we are most likely to envision this face.  A serene looking man gazing off into the distance, serious but not stern.  More than 500 million copies of this painting have been sold since its creation in 1940.  It hangs in countless homes and Sunday school rooms; the wallet size version has done well, too.  It seems to have a pretty good balance of darkness and light, feminine and masculine.  It’s been working for us for a long time.  This is the face we see when we think of Christ. 

So much so, in fact, that it has become hard for us to envision the possibility that Jesus looked any different than this.  But we can be pretty sure he didn’t actually look much like this European Jesus.  Jesus was a Middle Eastern man.

Realistically, we know that Jesus must have looked like most of the other people around him.  So using a technique called forensic anthropology, we have an image of Jesus that is a best estimate of what he actually looked like.  No long wavy hair, high cheekbones, or blue eyes. 

Jesus has been reimagined by every culture and era.  There are Native American Jesuses, Japanese Jesuses, African Jesuses, and Latin American Jesuses.  There is the Medieval Jesus, the Renaissance Jesus, and contemporary Jesus.  Do you know Jesus?  Which one?

In this reading from Mark’s gospel today Jesus is wondering the same thing.  He asks his disciples.  Who are people saying that I am?  What are you hearing about me? 

People were definitely talking about him.  Even though he was continually saying to his followers, “Don’t tell anyone about this!” they are talking.  As soon as he says, “Don’t tell anybody,” they turn around and tell everyone within earshot.  It’s a puzzling thing, this open secret about Jesus’ actions and his identity.  Perhaps the secrecy was meant to say that his actions do not define him.  Jesus is more than the sum of his miracles.  Who is this Jesus? 

His disciples report what they have heard.  Some are saying he is Elijah returned, some say he is John the Baptist; some are saying he is another of the prophets.  There are many theories about who Jesus is; all of them connected to the past.  Then Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter says it first.  You are the Messiah.  You are the one we have been waiting for.  You are the Christ. 

For the first time, we hear something new.  Jesus is not like anyone or anything ever seen before.  He is not a reincarnation or reimagining of any other person.  He is not to be put into a previously established category of man.  Jesus is the one they have dreamed about, the one that has never before been seen; he is the Messiah. 

And Jesus say, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Because we don’t know Jesus that way.  We don’t know Jesus because someone told us who he is.  We know Jesus differently than we know most things or people.  Do you know Jesus?

Our teachers and mentors in the faith are charged with helping us – young and old alike – to know Jesus.  And it’s not just a matter of telling us; it’s a matter of walking alongside us.  It’s a matter of sharing and discovering and learning alongside us.  Because getting to know Jesus is a lifelong journey. 

Do you know Jesus?  Do you recognize him – not just the Sallman version of him, but all the different iterations of Jesus, the Messiah?  

We know him from his miracles, but he is not just the miracles.  He is more than that.  We know him from his parables, but he is not just the parables.  He is more than that.  We know him from his acts of healing, but he is more than a healer. 

We know him from his death and resurrection, but he is even more than that.  Do you know Jesus? 

Because he lives in our midst now.  He is found in the woman who waits for a sandwich outside our kitchen door when HOPE is serving lunch.  He is found in the homeless man who walks the streets during the day and comes to the door of our building for shelter on a winter night.  He is found in the refugees seeking a safe place to live, the ones who keep knocking on the doors at the borders, no matter how many times we say no.  We know him in the young child who tests our patience and our love.  Jesus pushes the boundaries wherever he goes.

Do you know Jesus?  It won’t do just to talk about him because talk is cheap.  That’s what Peter found.  Jesus is found in the taking up of our own cross and following him with our lives.  Do you know Jesus?

We know him when he moves us to respond to the need in our midst.  That might be anything from the battered and disheartened woman who someone to show her that there is love enough for her to live, that there is hope – to the child who has been bullied so relentlessly that he is at risk of losing himself, and needs to see that we recognize him as a beloved child of God.  When we do this we know Jesus, we know him in our hearts.

Jesus doesn’t just warm our hearts – he stirs our hearts to reach out and give hope to others.  When we act with kindness and humility we know Jesus, we know him in our hearts.

We know Jesus by following Jesus, to the cross and through death and back to life.  And we teach others to do the same by our example.  Teach them love by loving them – whether or not they are lovable.  Teach them to give as you give – whether or not you feel like giving.  Teach them faith by your faith – something we recommit ourselves to every single day.  This is how we come to know Jesus.

Knowing Jesus is the hardest thing and the best thing we can do.  Beautiful Jesus – not because he has perfect skin and blue eyes.  Beautiful Jesus – because there is nothing more beautiful than the power of his love.

Do you know Jesus?

 

God’s Preferences

 

Mark 7:24-37     

When our kids were little, Kim used to say to them, “Oh, you’re my favorite 8-year-old boy!” or “You’re my favorite 13-year-old daughter.” It would always surprise them, but then they would laugh. He wanted each one to know that they were his favorites. Each one of them.

Kids spend a fair amount of time thinking about favorites. It’s a big word in a child’s vocabulary: favorite ice cream, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. And they think, too, about whether their parents have a favorite child. In fact, even when we grow up, we still might think about who was our parents’ favorite child.

Whether or not parents have a favorite among their children, or grandchildren, almost all parents do favor their own children over others. To us that seems not only normal but quite appropriate. We might judge harshly any parent who does not seem to favor their own children. Every child needs to know they have their parents in their corner.

We look at it like this: we are first and foremost responsible for taking care of our own. And then, with whatever is left over, we should look after the needs of others outside the family. It is right and good to give to others in need, but we don’t take food out of our children’s mouths and give it to others.

Or, in Jesus’ words, it’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.

It has taken me a lot of time, but I have finally come to terms with the fact that he said that. He actually called this woman, and her child, dogs. This woman in need, who probably had to muster up every bit of nerve she had? He called her a dog.

I went through a process of trying to interpret it away. Like, he didn’t actually mean that; he was testing her faith. Or, this was a teaching moment for his disciples; he was playing “Devil’s Advocate.” I have also tried out the notion that he was speaking theoretically; it was nothing personal, it was just theological. Kind of like the mobsters in the movies who say, “It’s not personal. It’s just business.”

But, actually, it just makes more sense to say that he just said something that was not only hurtful, but wrong. And, like so many mistakes, this is a great moment for illuminating truth.

This woman of Tyre – not a Jew, obviously – shows boldness in approaching him. First, because she is a woman, and women did not approach strange men in public. Second, she was a gentile, and Jews did not like to interact with gentiles, male or female. This was a matter of purity, something that was important in the law of Israel. According to the law, any interaction with a person who is “unclean” would have to be followed by a ritual of purification, and that was a hassle, frankly. For practical reasons, Jews avoided having contact with persons they would call “unclean.” There would be nothing unusual about Jesus wanting to avoid this woman.

She approaches him anyway. After all, her child’s life is at risk. She knew Jesus by reputation to be a man of power and compassion, so it was sure worth a try.

But she evidently caught him on a bad day.

We read in verse 24 that he was looking for solitude. He needed some downtime. “He did not want anyone to know he was there,” but Jesus could not escape notice and there were so many who needed so much.

Every once in a great while in the gospel, we hear that Jesus sighed. We know what it means when someone sighs, don’t we? They are exhausted, they are drained, they are on their last nerve. So what do you think it means when Jesus sighs?

We tend to forget the tenet of our faith that says he was fully human, but he was. And being human he most certainly had his limits.  He was tired, he was drained, and he snapped at this woman. “I won’t take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” And at this, she should have lowered her head and scurried away. But she doesn’t. She surprises us with her courage and wit just as much as Jesus surprised us with his callous words. She says, “Yet, even the dogs get to eat the crumbs that fall to the floor.”

She is not a Jew, but she knows there is more than enough of God’s healing mercy to go around. She knows what Jesus, himself, has been teaching: that God’s love and mercy extend to all who are in need, both within and beyond the bounds of Israel. Clean and unclean.

And, yes, Jesus knows this too. Once again, he surprises us by turning around. “You know, you’re right,” he says to her, “In fact, that demon has already left your daughter because of your faith.” The woman went home and saw that what he said was true. End of story.

Jesus moves on to another place – the region of the Decapolis. Here he encounters more gentiles, who bring a deaf man to him imploring Jesus to heal him. This time he does so, without question or prevarication, using a mysterious concoction of spit and strange words. The man’s hearing and speech are restored and everyone is astounded.

So, what do you think? Does God have favorites?

We might assume that God favors those of us who “live right.” You might say it is the modern, western equivalent of purity vs impurity. If we go to church, if we bring our children up in the church, if we pray, if we tithe, then we are ritually pure. Therefore, we are God’s favored ones.

And we might then assume that there are perks to being among God’s favored: such as having our prayers heard, and of course answered, first. It might seem to make sense, but does it really?

What we know from the scriptures is a bit more complex than that. We read there that God favors God’s chosen people. But also that God clearly favors anyone who stands in need. Therefore, God expects God’s chosen people to favor the ones in need.

We hear it in the words from Proverbs: A good name is to be chosen rather than riches, and a good name is established by practicing generosity, loving mercy, and seeking after justice. The Lord favors those in need, and God’s chosen ones will follow after God’s heart.

God favors the ones who are in need – those who sit at the table and those who are under the table waiting for crumbs to fall, and there are always crumbs that fall. In fact, if we are doing it well, there will be more crumbs than are needed.

As we turn our hearts to the sacrament at the table of Christ this morning, we might remember that this is something he shared with us when we were the outcasts, the ones who stood in need, the ones who were waiting for the crumbs to fall. This is the feast he set for the needy ones.

As we go into our week – our work, our school, our recreation – let us consider the ways we have been favored, and consider the ways God is asking us to share the favor with others: the favor of our attention, our time, our love, as well as our goods.

You know, Jesus was full of surprises. Let us follow his lead and surprise the world. Let us practice generosity with someone who really needs it.

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