Proper 8(B): Work on the Way

Proper 8(B): Work on the Way

Mark 5:21-43

By: The Rev. Canon Lee Curtis

“The interruptions are the work.”

This was one of the first things that was said to me when I started my first year of Contextual Education at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter in Atlanta, a parish where more than three-quarters of the congregation lives with a chronic mental illness.

I didn’t understand it then, but it became a mantra. Someone stands up, starts talking to themselves, and leaves a service.

The interruptions are the work.

You have to stop running your evening programing to break up an argument.

The interruptions are the work.

Someone stops your conversation to tell you how much what you said two weeks ago made them feel loved.

The interruptions are the work.

Good or bad, right or wrong, convenient or not—The interruptions are the work.

This has become a mantra for my own ministry. Sometimes it has served me well. Other times it’s gotten me into trouble, made me late, or thrown me off the great and holy ministerial workflow. But its always been there.

In interruption there is wisdom. Let us attend.

When Jesus gets off the boat, he’s given something to do. The leader of the local synagogue pleads with him “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” It’s a task that Jesus takes on, and he sets down the road to Jairus’ house.

Then comes the interruption. A woman who has bankrupted herself in healthcare costs makes one of the most amazing statements of faith, that If I only touch his cloak, I will be made whole, and presses through the crowd, straining to touch the hem of his robe.

It would have been imperceptible to anyone but Jesus. It could have been entirely ignored. A silent miracle, one more thing amongst the works of Jesus that, as St. John says, would fill more volumes than the world could contain. (John 21:25, KJV) But Jesus stops, not because Jesus is offended by a perceived theft of power, but because Jesus wants to encounter this woman. Because, the Lord knows, the interruptions are the work.

But work or not, interruptions take time. Time that Jairus’ daughter didn’t have. And a scant few verses later, Jesus is being told to go home. It’s too late. Don’t bother. We hear the words of Martha echo in our ears “Lord, if you had been here…” (John 11:21 NRSV) And where we see death, we see the end of this young woman’s life. Jesus sees but an interruption. Jesus gets to work.

I’ve had to nuance my understanding of what it means to find the holy in the interruption. Interruption is not always good in and of itself. What makes interruptions good and holy is that we attend to them knowing what our end, what our goal, is.

This kind of attention to interruption only worked at Holy Comforter because we knew in our bones that the mission of that parish was to be beloved community for those who were cast to the margins of our society, and anything we did, any interruption we attended to would be in service of that mission.

If we get clear about where it is we’re going, and what it is we’re doing, then we can abide the interruptions, and not let them become distractions.

What we see in the Markan pericope is Jesus clear that he is moving toward the healing of Jairus’ daughter, setting her as a type of the kind of life that Jesus is to bring. New, abundant, resurrected life. Everything that happens on the road to Jairus’ house works in the service of that end. The hemorrhaging woman, though an interruption to the task at hand, becomes another opportunity to share life and healing in the service of Christ’s purpose— to make known the reign of God come near.

What this means for us then, us as church, is that we have to get clear about what our end, our telos, our purpose, is. Is it to, as the Book of Common Prayer puts it, “restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ”? (P. 855, BCP1979) If so, what does that mean for those who we would encounter as interruptions on the way? Can we see them as moments of the spirit breaking in? Will we allow ourselves to be conduits of Christ’s love and power? Will we be tools for healing?

If we know in our bones whose we are, and what it is that we are working for, then we can have the grace to let the interruptions be the work, and not to grow weary.

The interruptions are the work.

Blessed be the work.

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The Rev. Canon Lee Curtis

The Rev. Canon Lee Curtis, Florida native and graduate of the Candler School of Theology at Emory Univerisity, serves as Canon Missioner at Christ Church Cathedral in Indianapolis where he works on integrating the life of the Cathedral more deeply with the life of the City. He and his wife Hannah are the exhausted parents of two remarkable boys and two very good dogs. You can find pictures of those dogs on Instagram @thebrokechurchman

Proper 7(B): Speaking in Chaos

Proper 7(B): Speaking in Chaos

Mark 4:35-41

By: The Rev. Ben Day

As a millennial who happens to also be a parish rector, I sometimes feel alone in the storm of our present ecclesial age. Church decline is a frequent topic of conversation in the communities where I congregate with fellow clergy and laity. While I am gratified that many in my peer group are braving that conversation rather than systematically ignoring it (as in ages past), too often the conversation get hijacked by those who want quick and easy answers and is therefore diverted into a conversation about how to recruit millennials to fill our empty church buildings. That is when eyes begin to fix on me, (often the only millennial in the room), as if to say, “you’re a millennial, tell us how to get more of your kind.”

Forget for a moment that objectifying a whole generation into a utilitarian target market which you hope will “save” your church is offensive and may be part of the reason that those we seek avoid us and turn with me to the Gospel lesson of the day.

Jesus is found sleeping on the job while a violent storm rages. At this point in Mark’s gospel, the disciples are not totally sure about Jesus. They have heard his parables and teachings, and they have enough faith in him to get in the boat and head across the sea to Gentile country, but they clearly do not understand the fullness of his power and purpose at this point in the story. So in the midst of a storm on the Sea of Galilee they wake him to seek clarification—essentially asking, “Do you care about us or not?”

Their reported question reveals a faith that acknowledges the fact that Jesus could stop them from perishing if he wills. But it also reveals a faith that is not yet mature enough to know that his role is not to calm every storm, but rather to teach them to trust in spite of the weather. His follow up questions on fear and faith reveal that deeper purpose. And that the word of God (peace and stillness) is essential to how we respond.

To take it a step further, it is the word of God spoken in the chaos of the storm “Peace, be still,” that brings about the transformation and strengthening of their faith, not Jesus’ questions to them. This is revealed in their final remark on the wind’s obedience. Jesus is not simply calming a storm to save their lives, he is revealing his power and authority to them. The storm is part of God’s revealing purpose.

The wise preacher might offer this as a word of hope in the storminess of our common life. In churches where mere survival is the goal, Jesus’ word of peace and stillness may be the calling to discernment rather than easy answers and new marketing strategies. The same can be applied to the many storms of our lives. Whether it be political anxiety, personal crisis, declining health, financial uncertainty, or even literal storms in places traumatized by recent hurricanes, wildfires, or tornadoes. The word of God in the midst of it all is the same peace and stillness.

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The Rev. Ben Day

The Rev. Ben Day is the Rector of Christ Episcopal Church in Kennesaw, Georgia. Married to Amanda, they have a son, a Border Collie, and a German Shepherd. Life is far from dull or boring in the Day family, or at Christ Church.

Proper 6(B): The Kingdom of God and the Sown Seed

Proper 6(B): The Kingdom of God and the Sown Seed

Mark 4:26-34

By: The Rev. Jim Dahlin

One of my favorite books is Good Omens, a humorous take on the apocalypse written by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. The two best characters are an angel and a demon who have been working for their respective ‘sides’ undercover, posing as humans—for millennia. They share a lot in common and end up occasionally getting together to vent about their bosses, life on Earth, and the peculiarity of humans. They’re astounded by what humans find as miraculous. We see the image of the Virgin Mary in a piece of toast and praise God for the bountiful blessing. Instead, the angel and demon think humans should be astounded that a seed put in the ground eventually becomes a vine that grows grapes—and it does it every year! That’s a miracle. Existence as we experience it every moment of every day is the miracle. And we humans seem to take it for granted.

In 18th and 19th century England, two new inventions revolutionized agriculture. The first invention came about around 1700. It was called a Seed Drill and it allowed farmers to plant seeds directly into the soil instead of scattering them about and hoping (and praying) for them to grow. This seemingly minor invention improved seed yield and helped mitigate for bad growing seasons. The second invention came in the 1800s when farmers realized they could plant turnips, clover or some other similar crop, and it would replenish the soil significantly better than the traditional method of letting half the land lay fallow every three years. In fact, researchers estimate that between 1480 and 1700 about 1 in 4 growing years were considered “bad,” and 1 in 5 were considered “catastrophically bad.” Jumping from such a low yield (and at the mercy of really bad growing seasons) to a higher yield and more diverse, predictable crop growth made many farmers incredibly wealthy. It ushered in a new era of wealth and prosperity in England.

We live in the shadow of those inventions that helped mitigate poor growing seasons and our latest technology has only added to our agriculture production. In fact, a few years ago, the American Midwest experienced a near record drought and thousands of acres yielded poor returns. Yet, I still went to the grocery store and bought corn, strawberries, apples, etc. Perhaps I paid an extra dollar or so, but I don’t remember “feeling” the result of the drought. For most of us in America, we don’t worry about the weather affecting our food supply. In a way, we don’t need faith in order to eat. We thank God for our food, but do we really feel that our sustenance is provided by God? I remember an episode of the Simpsons when they asked Bart to bless the meal and he said, “Dear God, we paid for all this food, so thanks for nothing!” Does a part of us tend to think that way, even if we don’t consciously admit it?

In the Gospel reading from Mark, Jesus describes the Kingdom of God as someone who scatters seed on the ground, then anxiously watches for the seed to grow. The text says the farmer got up night and day, monitoring the status of the crops. Finally, after anxiously watching the crops grow into plants and come to fruition, the farmer grabs the sickle because the harvest time has come. This all raises the question: How do we relate to this farmer when most of us live so disconnected from the stress of possible food insecurity? Jesus is describing a scenario where someone with land and seeds and seeming resources still lives exposed to the whims of the elements. And what are we to make of the fact that Jesus tells this parable to explain the kingdom of God?

Perhaps we are the fickle crops planted by the triune God, anxiously hoping and praying that we will grow? I often feel blown about by the whims of the elements of daily life, distracted or intentionally avoiding that which will make me grow.

The second agricultural parable explaining the kingdom of God has to do with the mustard seed. It’s this tiny thing that is planted in the ground, watered and somehow becomes a large plant. (I’m not going to address the scientific accuracy of the parables claims of a mustard seed being the smallest and then becoming extremely large. I feel that distracts from the point of the parable.) This reminds me of the quotation from Good Omens about the daily miracles that we fail to notice. What habits and practices will form us into a people who recognizes the micro-miracles of daily life? Not just a ‘spend less time on Facebook’ or ‘stop and smell the roses’, although those are part of it, rather a shift in how we interact with the world. I think consistently gathering with other Christians in order to faithfully worship God is formative. As an Episcopal priest, I would recommend weekly Eucharist as formation in the kingdom of God.

The Gospel passage gives us two parables on the Kingdom of God. Taken together, these parables encourage us to faithfully and continually grow while becoming a people who sees the micro-miracles in everyday life. This involves some intentionality and work on our part. For example, I can’t just whine about my poor prayer life (which it is), I have to take agency and designate an extra few minutes each morning to prayer. It also involves intentionally noticing the flowering world around us and praising God. It involves a deep seated thanks to God for the profound and bountiful blessings of this life! These are practices that must be continually cultivated over the course of our Christian lives. Amen.

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The Rev. Jim Dahlin

The Rev. Jim Dahlin is Rector of St. Mary’s & St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains in Morganton, North Carolina. Despite looking like the bad guy in every World War II movie, his racially diverse, loving congregation has embraced him as they seek to faithfully worship God and figure out what it means to confess the Christian faith. Jim loves a challenging hike, a good pint of beer, riding his motorcycle and laughing. He is new to ordained ministry, but has been educated at various seminaries.

Proper 5(B): A Terrible Confusion

Proper 5(B): A Terrible Confusion

Mark 3:20-35

By: Jerrod McCormack

Some of the greatest discoveries in human history have been due to a terrible confusion or a happy accident. Alexander Fleming, the scientist who discovered penicillin, only did so because his scientific practice left a lot to be desired. According to Fleming, he left some petri dishes next to an open window and they became contaminated with mold spores. When he looked closely at the petri dish he discovered that the bacteria nearest to the mold spores were actually dying. Alexander Fleming once said, “When I woke up just after dawn on September 28, 1928, I certainly didn’t plan to revolutionize all medicine by discovering the world’s first antibiotic, or bacteria killer. But I suppose that was exactly what I did.”[1]

Imagine how different the 20th century might have looked if, on that morning when Alexander Fleming walked into his lab and discovered the contaminated petri dishes he did what most people do with moldy dishes and just set about cleaning up what appeared to be a failed experiment. It would have been an absolute travesty. People would have gone on dying just as they had been and no one would have been the wiser. Instead, Fleming took the time to look closely and examine what was happening in those petri dishes and discovered a treatment that would cure a number of bacterial infections. We hear an equally confusing and exciting story in this Gospel lesson.

Jesus has gone home and the people there are very confused about who he is. Mark records that his family is concerned and the scribes coming down from Jerusalem describe him as being possessed by a demon. Their concern is so great that Jesus’ family decides to stage an intervention. They go out and, according to Mark, are trying to “restrain him.” Without a doubt, Jesus’ family believes that what they are doing is in his best interest; after all, they’re convinced that he has lost his mind. The New Interpreter’s Study Bible indicates that “[this intervention] is surely one that deeply misconstrues Jesus’ ministry and actions.”[2] It is this “misconstrued moment” that is picked up on and expanded by the scribes. The scribes soon begin to describe Jesus’ ministry as the work of Satan and decry Jesus as possessed by a demon. They say that he casts out demons by the ruler of demons.

At the suggestion that he is possessed, Jesus questions whether a house that is divided against itself could possibly stand. As we look around at the world today, we have all kinds of reasons to divide ourselves against each other. We are pretty different from one another. We come in a multitude of colors, a multitude of political ideologies, and a multitude of sexual orientations and gender identities. We are decidedly different from one another. But if we look deeper than all of those things, we might discover that our neighbors and our enemies are in fact more like us than we might imagine. We all struggle in this life. I won’t soon forget the first time that I heard it said, “Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle that you know nothing about.” This is what it means to be deeply human: we all struggle, but at the core of each of us is a part that longs for understanding, acceptance and love. We are part of a truth that is deeper than every single division that exists.

We have to be careful when we cast dispersion upon the work of others in the world. Jesus warns those who have labeled him as possessed that there is forgiveness for everything under the sun except for one who ‘blasphemes against the Holy Spirit.’ This is a serious call for us to be careful when we declare something to be contrary to God. The scribes saw Jesus casting out demons and determined that it had to be the work of the devil and not the work of God. Jesus warns them that this is the one thing that God won’t forgive.

We should be careful when we look at others who claim to be doing God’s work in the world. Many times, both liberals and conservatives are much too quick to judge each other’s work as invalid. I might push this even further and suggest that as Christians, we are far too quick to judge the work of God in other religions and cultures to be the work of the devil. But what if it isn’t? What if God has chosen to reveal Godself in a multitude of ways to a multitude of people? Perhaps, this text is calling us to be more open to a God who chooses to act and reveal Godself in many ways.

It isn’t easy to open ourselves up to the fact that God might act in the world in ways that we don’t understand or through people we might not even like, but the Christian tradition is full of amazing stories of men and women who found God at work in strange and perhaps unexpected places. I grew up listening to people say, “God works in mysterious ways.” That line probably comes from a poem written by William Cowper, an 18th Century English poet. This is what he wrote:

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill

He treasures up His bright designs,

And works His sovereign will. [3]

I didn’t know the source of that phrase until much later, but this idea that God calls and leads into places that surprise and might confuse doesn’t seem too far-fetched. Jesus goes on in this passage to say, “Who are my mother and my brothers and sisters? They are the ones who do God’s will.” It might seem at first a hefty insult to Jesus’s own family. However, when we consider that Jesus comes into the world in the stillness of a manger born to a young woman who in her own moment of profound faith says yes to the will of God. Perhaps, Jesus saying that his mother and brothers and sisters are the ones who do God’s will isn’t an insult as much as a new way of looking at the world. God’s new family is one that transcends familial relationships. We become a family of those who live by the Spirit and who follow the Spirit into unexpected places.

[1] Alexander Fleming (1881–1955): Discoverer of penicillin: Singapore Medical Journal  2015 Jul; 56(7): 366–367. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4520913/

[2] The New Interpreter’s Study Bible: Abingdon Press, Nashville, TN. 2003: 1811.

[3] Poem Hunter: https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/god-moves-in-a-mysterious-way/

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Jerrod McCormack

Jerrod McCormack is a postulant for holy orders in the Diocese of Calgary. He works as a Spiritual Care Practitioner for the Alberta Health Service and is the Manager of the bookstore at St. Mary’s University. He earned an A.Sc. in Pre-Medical Studies from Hiwassee College in Madisonville, Tennessee, a B.Sc. in Biology from Tennessee Wesleyan College, Athens, Tennessee, and a Master of Divinity from Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. He is married to Ali and in their spare time they love to drive through the Rockies and stop for random photo opportunities.

Proper 4(B): The Law of Grace

Proper 4(B): The Law of Grace

Mark 2:23-3:6

By: The Rev. Lauren Carlson

In her book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, Anne Lamott writes, “There’s a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” The rabbi answered, “Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your heart, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.”

This story has stuck with me since I first read it several years ago. In many ways, it seems to go hand in hand with the theme of “hardness of hearts” I see playing throughout the gospel of Mark.[1]You can certainly find this expression in other places of scripture, but I find it interesting how many times this phrase can be found in Mark alone. It seems that this is the way Jesus often describes the people when he is frustrated or disappointed with their actions and understanding. It is as though they have written the law on their hearts, and yet the grace of it has not fallen inside yet. They see the miracles, but the profound truth has not reached to the depth of their being. In each situation, this hardness of heart prevents the people from living into the fullness of relationship to which they are called to live, with one another and with God.

In our gospel reading for day we hear in 3:5, “[Jesus] grieved at their hardness of heart,” referring to the Pharisees who would rather let a man continue suffering than heal him on the Sabbath. The Pharisees are challenging Jesus on his adherence (or lack thereof) to the law about working on the Sabbath, which raises two questions for me: 1) What is the purpose of law? and 2) What is the purpose of the Sabbath?

  • When God gives laws, it is not for the purpose of individual piety. Law is not for the sake of having a checklist of righteousness. Rather, the purpose of law is to be in right relationship with neighbor and with God. Jesus clarifies this to the Pharisees when challenged on which is the greatest commandment. He says that it is to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind, and the second is to love your neighbor as yourself. On this hangs ALL THE LAW and the prophets. In other words, if we are loving God and loving our neighbor, these things will fall into place. This is the purpose of the law: to live in loving relationship.
  • “The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath.”[2] Just like all other laws, this Sabbath-keeping law is for wellbeing in community and not for self-righteous piety. Sabbath is something we It is about rest and healing so that we can be refreshed and renewed for this work of loving God and loving our neighbor. Yes, loving can be work because we are broken and essentially just suck at this sometimes. But it is the most worthwhile work we can do! Sabbath rest is a gift from God; a time to be aware of the abundance of love and grace that God is constantly pouring into us, so that we can continue that work. But it is NOT meant to be at the detriment of another. How can one feel filled by God’s love while watching another continue in suffering?

What might this self-righteous (even self-serving?) sense of law and Sabbath look like in your congregation? Where are you seeing signs of hardened hearts? How can you remind them of the fact that good news is actually meant to be good news?

When our hearts are hardened, we cannot see the grace and the gift of the Sabbath or of the law.  When our hearts are hardened, we stop seeing the freedom and healing of another as important. When our hearts are hardened, we are blind to the depth of the truth of who Jesus is and what he is up to in the world. So perhaps we too, like the Pharisees and disciples and saints who have gone before us, have hardened hearts. But the truth is that in spite of (or even in light of) our hardened hearts, eventually they will crack wide open and words of grace and love and gentleness will fill them and heal them again. Because God’s acts of grace and love and healing not only continue on the Sabbath, they are essential to the Sabbath.

  

[1] Mark 6:52, 8:17, 10:5 are a few examples

[2] Mark 2:27

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The Rev. Lauren Carlson

The Rev. Lauren Carlson is a Lutheran pastor (ELCA) currently serving in a call with her husband, Paul, at Calvary Lutheran Church in Morganton, North Carolina. She received her bachelor’s degree in Psychology from Appalachian State University in 2004, served a year of Young Adults in Global Mission through the ELCA in Edinburgh Scotland, and then headed to Dubuque, Iowa where she earned her Masters of Divinity at Wartburg Theological Seminary. If ministry were not enough to keep her busy, her two young, spirited children are! In her “spare time” she enjoys catching up with friends, breathing fresh air, continuing her involvement with camping ministry, and brewing beer (and has great dreams of learning to play guitar, sew, and actually conquer her reading list!)

 

Trinity Sunday (B): Be Moved to Join the Movement

Trinity Sunday (B): Be Moved to Join the Movement

John 3:1-17

By: Casey Cross

Every extraordinary experience sparks from the ordinary.  Full of curiosity, Nicodemus proactively seeks Jesus out at night. Jesus transforms what was an inconspicuous evening into a remarkable, life-changing event.

What I love about the Gospel of John is the way we readers, thousands of years later, are turned into witnesses. We become witnesses not just to fact-based, hard-nosed, “real news,” but to God’s reality on earth. We become witnesses, not to an ideology, but to the movement of God. We are suddenly standing alongside Nicodemus, bound by our physical bodies and limited perspective, about to have our mind blown by a completely new way of seeing and being in the world.

In this particular story, we see Jesus launch the transformation of Nicodemus from questioning leader, ἄρχων (John 3:1), to witness, μάρτυς (John 3:11) to the movement of God. The movement of God is Trinitarian; it is physical, spiritual, and divine. It takes our full selves to be part of this movement. We cannot compartmentalize it to one hour or one day. We cannot compartmentalize it to a single choice and belief. This is difficult for us to grasp because our entire world is about compartmentalization. We count the minutes and hours of our days, divvying up our time to work, relationships, goals, celebrations, conversations, and chores. This is also difficult for us to grasp because so much of our lives are about reaching certain dates, milestones and achievements. We live by the idea that once we reach that particular place, we will have “made it.” Nevertheless, the movement of God blurs and smudges the lines by which we have ordered our lives. The movement of God never stops. The movement is, in essence, God’s full self – Father, Son, and Spirit. During this late-night conversation, Jesus invites Nicodemus to wake up, be “born again,” move beyond the limits of his occupation and title and join the movement.

In his book, The Divine Dance, Father Richard Rohr describes the movement of God as flow. To join God’s movement is to step, jump, or dive into the flow of God’s full self with our full selves. The tide of God’s movement leads us to a way of life that is always growing, evolving, transforming; a way of life that is about unification, alignment, and action.

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Source: https://upliftconnect.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/Light-9-1.png

Like Nicodemus, it takes a little time for us to catch on. It’s hard to be moved from all that we know – this one body, this one life, our understanding of science and creation. Even without fully understanding Jesus’ words, Nicodemus is caught up in the tide of conversation and can’t stop himself from asking, “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” Jesus doesn’t back down. With Jesus’ response, we 21st century readers are no longer merely observers of a late-night conversation. Jesus’ reply vibrates and echoes from the pages of the Bible to us, today. “You must be born from above.”

Jesus tells us to move beyond dualistic thinking into a Trinitarian way of being, the place where our bodies, mind, soul, and spirit meet. Jesus calls Nicodemus, and all of us, to live in the realization of all that we are. We are not just machines, a body moving by habit and functionality. We are not just spontaneous balls of unaware reactivity to the life being lived around us. God made us to be part of the Movement. While we struggle with discernment, wondering what God is truly calling us to, remember that the answer will always involve our full selves, it will involve our transformation (often over and over again), it will involve us physically moving, following the example of Jesus, and getting into it.

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Source: https://vtn.co/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/parkland-survivor-emma-gonzalez-holds-powerful-moment-of-silence-at-march-for-our-lives.jpg

Consider the social movements we witness in history books and the news. These movements do not appear from nowhere. They are products of an accumulation of factors, but we often wonder where they came from. Like the wind, we hear the sound of it, see the effects of these movements, but we do not always know where they came from or where they will go. Isn’t this just like the movement of God? Isn’t this exactly what Jesus is calling Nicodemus, and all of us, to join?

 

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Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_mysticism#/media/File:Grunewald_-_christ.jpg

Jesus knows we are suspicious. Jesus knows we are trapped by our need for tangible, provable facts. Yet, in this conversation, Jesus doesn’t stop there. We are called to join the Movement. Despite ourselves, we are made witnesses. We are not witnesses of our own understanding, but of God’s action, movement, in the world, for the world. Receive the testimony given to us by the Living Word who walked among us. Bear witness. Wake up. Be moved with your full self – your emotions, your mind, soul, and strength. Rise up. Join the movement of God. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Casey Cross

Casey Cross serves as Young Disciples Director at Hope Lutheran Church in Eagle, Idaho. She can be found in the kitchen with her husband, walking her black lab, Lola, listening to music, drinking coffee, reading too many books at once, and sitting around, thinking about stuff that might eventually get written about on her blog: http://caseykcross.wordpress.com.

 

 

Pentecost(B): What are we Celebrating?

Pentecost(B): What are we Celebrating?

John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

By: Chris Clow

Today is the only Holy Day in the entire liturgical calendar devoted to the Holy Spirit.  Think about it – Jesus gets all the good feast days. Christmas lasts for 12 days (not to mention a whole season devoted to the buildup to it.) Lent is 40 days; Easter 50. Every day within the season of Easter is called the 3rd or 5th or even 7th ___-day of Easter.

What do we call the first day after Pentecost?

Monday.

The Spirit really gets a bum rap, and it’s not really fair. We’re talking about a whole third of the Trinity, after all. Without the Spirit, there wouldn’t be a Church. It is the Spirit that continues to move in us today, continues to animate the Church and keep it alive. Even throughout the years of persecution and pain, doubt and division, scandal and schism—Christianity is still around.

Today is the Church’s birthday. So, what are we celebrating?

In the Gospel reading, Jesus says that the Spirit will lead us all to truth. I will admit, sometimes it’s difficult for me to believe that. I’ve been given a class of students to teach this semester (something I’m pretty sure they’ll never let me do again), and it has truly been an awe-inspiring to see how difficult it is to try and lead someone to any kind of truth. No wonder Jesus got frustrated with his disciples so often. And in times where I am just exhausted by work, by the stressors of life, it can become harder for me to strive to see the Spirit at work—both in myself, and in those around me.

I can sympathize with the disciples in the upper room that Pentecost day. All they had worked for still seemed to be lost, and while they had even seen Jesus fully resurrected and taken up into Heaven, they weren’t sure what to do next. He was their teacher, the one who knew what to do. Now what were they supposed to do with him gone?

I bet that for a lot of us, the feeling is mutual—when we get so consumed with the busy-ness of our lives that it makes us harder to see the greater purpose; when we get so weighed down with the concerns of the world that it’s harder for us to see our neighbor who is also struggling with us, who we might need to help carry, or who might need to help carry us. It can be hard to believe that the Spirit is still at work in a world that can seem so broken some days.

Yet, I know the fault is with me, and not with God. The problem is not that the Spirit has stopped moving, but more likely that I have stopped listening for it, even for just a bit. So, in this (one-day) season of Pentecost, how do we get better at listening to the Spirit? I’m no expert, but I think we have some clear lessons in Scripture on how to start.

The first thing: we need space. That can be a hard thing to find in our lives, and not just finding the free time—there is a constant temptation to fill up our lives with all kinds of excess and other random things. Certainly, there’s nothing wrong with material possessions, but it sure does seem like we can get out of hand with it. The band “Arcade Fire” bemoans this in their song Everything Now: “Every room in my house is filled with shit I couldn’t live without” – and there are times where I find that line hits a little too close to home for me. I’m betting I’m not alone in that.

It helps to remember that when Jesus called his apostles, he didn’t tell them to pack a suitcase, much less a second pair of sandals. Does that mean that we too need to follow in such an example of poverty? I don’t know. As my wife and I prepare for the birth of our child in a few months, I think it’d be a rather foolish thing to suddenly decide to sell the house, bed, and all the other things that will help us provide for this new life. But maybe we need to not be so attached to them. The things we possess are, at best, means to an end. If they help us to become happier, better, more loving people, then great. If they don’t, then what are we doing with them? We need to keep on clearing out our clutter, both spiritually and physically, to help us listen better to the Spirit move in our lives.

The second thing: we need community. The apostles before Pentecost were huddled in fear, yes, but also together. The Spirit did not come to each of their individual houses, looking for them on their own. It found them in community.  Jesus wasn’t kidding when he said “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:20).

Furthermore, that community doesn’t require some sort of saintly perfection in us. The Spirit didn’t come when the disciples were feeling particularly courageous—it showed up precisely when they were afraid. They were lost, and not sure what to do now that their Master was gone, but they still had each other. The Spirit did not ask for perfection from them; rather, it took what they were able to offer (even if it was just their presence) and strengthen them for what they would need. So to for us, even when we maybe aren’t “feeling it,” or don’t feel like we belong in this community of faith—the Spirit is still calling us, too, wanting to work in us all the more. God is not first seeking perfection; God first seeks us, as we are, and works with us, as we are, to help us become the best we can be.

Finally: we need to get out. Look, the wind and flame of Pentecost are an incredible sign of the Spirit’s presence with the apostles, but to me, that’s not the miracle. The miracle of Pentecost is that these sad, scared Apostles got out of the upper room, and went to spread the Gospel.  The Spirit is does not want us to just stay within this community, but to share the Gospel message with the world. Much as no one puts a light under a basket, but lets it out to shine (to paraphrase Jesus), so too is the Spirit meant, like a driving wind, to drive us out into the world.  You know, that world that can so often drag us down, that can worry and stress us out, that world which exhausts. I often feel like pulling the metaphorical covers over my head and trying to drown the world out, but this is not a Spirit-filled desire. I need to be able to go out into the world, even the parts of it I would rather ignore.  We need to be able to encounter the world, and share the Gospel news to all we meet, especially to those who are in need, even when we might rather not.

What are we celebrating? That the Spirit is continuing to dwell with us still, and that we are given a chance today to do as the early disciples did—to testify to the Gospel message of Jesus.  May the Spirit renew us all this Pentecost.

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Chris Clow

Chris Clow is a campus minister and liturgical musician at St. Ambrose University in Davenport, Iowa. When he isn’t composing music or begging students to sing in his choir, he likes to play games of all sorts, watch his hometown St. Louis Cardinals, spend time with his wife Emily and their pets, and prepare with joy (and just a touch of anxiety) for the arrival of their first child in September.