Michael Seiler

Tag: Love

  • How Big Is Your Boat?

    Lectionary Readings – ( Proper 14 )

    In the movie Jaws, there’s a scene where Martin Brody, the sheriff in town is sitting on the back of the boat, throwing out chum into the water, hoping that they’ll be able to attract the shark that they are hunting. He’s absent-mindedly talking to the ship’s captain and the pilot as he’s doing this, and not thinking much of what’s going on.

    Then he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and turns around in time to see a giant shark’s head popping above the water and he jumps up, his eyes wide, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Then he slowly walks backwards into the cockpit of the boat, never taking his eyes off the water. As soon as he’s inside the room, he turns slightly to the captain and says:

    “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

    As it turns out, Rob Scheider, the actor who portrayed the sheriff in this movie, had ad libbed that line, and every one of the cast and crew absolutely loved it. The phrase took on a life of its own, and soon they were using it whenever they were filming and something went wrong or when the unexpected and inexplicable happened, or when what they were facing seemed like an insurmountable task.

    If ever there were people who might have wished they had a bigger boat, I would assume it was the disciples, who had been stuck in a boat in a raging storm for most of the night. The Gospel reading today tells us that it was the fourth watch, or between 3 and 6 am, so they had been in their boat for at least nine hours with the wind howling, the waves crashing around them, and the storm just raging on.

    If they had had a bigger boat, it would have meant more displacement, and therefore more stability, and their boat would not have been thrown around by the wind so much. If they had had a bigger boat, then it would have meant higher bulkheads, and the waves may not have crashed over the sides and required them to bail as much water to keep themselves afloat.

    If they had had a bigger boat, they would have felt safer, more comfortable, more protected. If they had had a bigger boat, they may not have been afraid at all.

    And then, in the midst of this raging chaos, the huddled congregation of disciples sees a figure walking to them on the water, and they become scared, as it looks to them that it must be a ghost. But Jesus calls out to them and says, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

    I can only imagine what is going through the disciples’ minds at this point. Here they are, in a boat, in the raging storm, looking across the water at Jesus who is telling them not to be afraid.

    These disciples had been in a boat with Jesus before, maybe another boat, maybe even a bigger boat, and that time, they too were in a storm. The wind was howling and the waves were crashing all around them, and Jesus… well, Jesus was taking a nap in the front of the boat. The disciples wake him up, and Jesus gets up, commands the storm to be calm, and the wind dies down, the rain stops, and the water becomes as peaceful as a mirror. 

    They’ve seen this movie before, and so some of them are thinking, “Great! Jesus is here, he’ll calm the storm and all will be well.”

    But Jesus doesn’t calm the storm. 

    He’s just standing there, telling them not to be afraid, in the midst of all this raging chaos.

    His presence alone provides them with hope, and hope is its own form of comfort, but at this point, it is still just hope, hope that comes from knowing that he is somewhere close.

    It seems Peter has been paying attention to what has been happening to them in the past few weeks and months that they have been spending time with Jesus.

    They were in a similar situation to this, in a boat where Jesus calmed the storm, and they were sent out on their own to preach the good news to the lost tribes of Israel, where they themselves cast out demons and cured the sick, and they had only just recently helped Jesus to feed a crowd of people with nothing more than five loaves and two fish, and the disciples had learned the valuable lesson that miracles weren’t just things that happen to them, but things that happen through them.

    Maybe Jesus was just standing there for a reason, just standing there and not calming the storm. Maybe there was a reason for this delay in God’s blessing and peace.

    So Peter calls out and says, “Lord, if that is really you, if I’m not just talking to some vague notion of a memory of you, if I am not hallucinating after a hard night of being on a boat in the middle of a storm, if it is, in fact, you, then command me to come to you on the water.”

    And Jesus simply says, “Come.”

    And Peter steps out of the boat.

    And then Peter experiences something profound. He takes a step, and he does not sink, and then he takes another step, and again, his foot does not sink, and he continues to move toward Jesus because Jesus has commanded him to get out of the boat. And then another step, and yet another…

    But then it happens.

    The Gospel says, “He noticed the strong wind.”

    And all of a sudden Peter has this moment of revelation, where he says, “What am I doing? Why am I out of the boat? People can’t walk on water! How did I get here? This defies the laws of physics. Look at the wind, the crashing waves. I’m not as light as a feather…” And his feet begin to sink into the water, and then more of him starts to go down, and then the greater part of him is under water, and he cries out to Jesus, “Lord, Save Me.”

    Jesus reaches out and pulls Peter up out of the water and says, “You of little faith, why do you doubt?”

    Do you think that all the disciples in the boat were saying the same thing?

    “Yeah, Peter, why did you doubt? C’mon, don’t you have any faith, Peter? I mean really, dude. Loser!”

    No. The disciples in the boat are now looking at two people standing on the water. Jesus, their master, and Peter, their friend. Both are standing on the water, while the other disciples are still in the boat that is being rocked and thrown around by the waves. 

    Think on that for a moment. Peter had focused on all the chaos going on around him for a while, and lost sight of Jesus. This is why he started to sink into the sea. But now he is standing there, on the water, next to Jesus, looking back at a boatful of disciples.

    And this whole time, the storm hasn’t stopped raging. The wind and the waves have been crashing down on that little boatful of disciples the entire time that Peter has been walking on water, sinking in water, and now, even standing on water next to Jesus.

    In fact, the storm was still raging as the boatful of disciples stared at Peter and Jesus standing on the water.

    Let me ask you, who do you think felt safer at that moment?

    The disciples in the boat, or Peter, standing on the water, next to Jesus?

    You see, even after having seen Peter walking on the water, sinking in the water, and finally seeing Peter stand on the water there with Jesus, they, the other disciples, are still in a boat in the raging storm, and probably still wishing that their little boat was three sizes bigger that day.

    The storm continues to rage, and their boat continues to be tossed around — and the storm only stops after Jesus and Peter climb into the boat. 

    We like to focus on the miracle of walking on water here. It was a miracle. We can’t deny that. We also like to focus on Peter’s doubt, since Jesus himself called Peter out for that moment of fear and doubt when he “noticed the wind.”

    But I think that the important part of the message today is that Peter called out to Jesus and said, “If it is you, Command me to come to you on the water.”

    Peter didn’t say, “Command me to come to you so that I can walk on water.” It seems like Peter fully expected the water walking would happen, and that Peter’s real concern was to do as Jesus commanded, and to be with Jesus: 

    “Command me to come to you on the water.”

    Peter was unconcerned about the miracle, and more concerned with doing what Jesus commanded, and with being near him, because he knew the safest place in any chaos is right beside Jesus.

    This is why Peter, once he had confirmed it was really Jesus, stepped out of the boat and onto the water. He didn’t start doing jumping jacks, or running around frolicking on top of the waves. He didn’t turn around and look at the disciples in the boat and say, “Hey guys, check me out!” It was not about Peter doing a miracle. Instead, Peter made his way toward Jesus, because with Jesus is where he wanted to be, and doing as Jesus commanded, is what he wanted to be doing.

    The obvious question that jumps out at us is are we the disciples in the boat, or are we Peter? 

    Do we want to be the disciples in the boat, or do we want to be like Peter? 

    And I’m not talking about walking on water, but I’m talking about the desire to be close to Jesus, even if it means that we may have to do something that takes us out of the relative safety of our own little boat in the storm, out of our own little comfort zone.

    You see, there is a long history of using the imagery of boats to draw allusions to the church, and as we know, the church, and every other human organization, suffers from the malady of being made up of people just like me. And I would often rather remain happily in my comfort zone, instead of asking what God might want me to do – especially when it might involve something uncomfortable.

    And so, I can look at those uncomfortable things, say, “You know what, I think I need a bigger boat. If I had a bigger boat, this wind and these waves might not upset me so much. If I had a bigger boat I could deal with this storm myself. If I had a bigger boat, I might not even be tempted to step into the water to be near Jesus. That’s a crazy idea anyway.”

    The fact that this miracle was something as profound as walking on water often makes us think that asking God to command us to do something means that we will have to do something huge, something enormous, something so outside the normal that we shy away not only from doing it, but also from asking it.

    God might not be commanding me to leave my home and country and travel halfway across the world to live in a remote village in the middle of nowhere. God might simply be asking me to talk to my neighbor and invite them to church, a task I find uncomfortable. God might simply be asking me to get up early every morning and pray for that same neighbor, a task that reduces my sleep by 30 minutes, and which might make me cranky. God might simply be asking me to give of my time, my energy, my expertise or money – even if I feel like I don’t have much of any of them right now. God may be asking these things of me as just a token of my willingness to partner with His work in this world.

    It may be just a minor change that affects my own comfort, but as we already know, God can multiply the little we have into an abundance. And my little sacrifice can have huge ramifications in God’s work in this world.

    Only you can know what your own comfort zone – your boat – might be, and only you can know what the corresponding step outside that boat would look like.

    But the important thing is, are you willing to say, “If it is you,Lord, command me to come to you.”?

    Now, I’m not telling you that you have to make this request of God. 

    Please, don’t feel like I’m rocking the boat and trying to pressure you into doing something you are not comfortable with.

    Because, you see, at the end of the day, just like at the end of today’s Gospel, Jesus will get into the boat with you. You may never have stepped out of the boat, but that doesn’t mean that you will miss out on the blessings or peace of God. 

    You will never miss out on the love and peace of God by staying in the boat.

    But you might miss out on the excitement of standing on the water next to Jesus, you might miss out on the excitement of starting to drown but being rescued by your Savior, you might miss out on the excitement of learning new things and growing in your faith by taking a risk to step a little closer to Jesus.

    I, personally, prefer to do as Peter did, and ask, “Lord, if this is you, command me to come to you.” 

    And then to get out of the boat.

    [This sermon was delivered at Christ the King Episcopal Church in Tucson, AZ on August 9, 2020.]

  • Practicality

    Abba Sisoes said: Seek God, and not where God lives.

    Desert Wisdom, Sayings From the Desert Fathers, p 3

    In seminary, one of the women I knew wanted to get married and start a family. It didn’t matter who the man was. She wanted to get married with such a singular clarity of focus that those of us who knew her could feel the energy toward that goal flowing from her no matter what we were doing at the moment.

    She would go on dates with anyone who asked her, and she would continue dating them until she pushed the question on whether the men could see this becoming more than simply a dating relationship – most often sooner than the men had time to realize they were even in a long term relationship. Invariably, most men would say “No” because they felt rushed, and didn’t want to feel pushed into making a decision.  Until, one day, she found a man who said “Yes.” And then they ended up married. She dropped all of her classes and took up the mantle of being a “good” girlfriend, then wife, then mother.

    In some ways, you can say that her singular devotion to finding a husband was commendable, because in the end she got what she wanted and didn’t waver until she accomplished her task. You might even say she was determined, and a strong woman.

    For those of us who knew her, we could only watch from the sidelines with difficulty. It was obvious that she was looking for anyone who didn’t want to leave her. I phrase it like this, because it seemed like the decision was based more around future safety than a choice. She didn’t end up with someone who chose her, but instead with someone who feared her leaving him as much as she seemed to fear being alone.

    Why am I telling this story? Especially when it seems I should be talking about seeking God?

    Because relationships are weird. 

    And a relationship with God is not supposed to be a friends-with-benefits arrangement, nor is it supposed to be settling for someone out of fear of being left out in the cold alone. Or in this case, the heat.

    Blaise Pascal, the French mathematician came up with a thought exercise concerning the existence of God. A quick summary is this: if people believe in God, and they are wrong, then no harm has come their way, and life continues as it is. But if they believe in God, and they are right, then they would go to heaven after death.

    The trouble with this viewpoint is that it seeks to benefit from faith without putting any work into it. It looks for safety, it looks for rescue and the salvation from eternal damnation, rather than a relationship with God. It is purely practical. Practical, with the intention of achieving the greatest benefit for ourselves without really putting any effort into the relationship that God desires from us.

    When we view life through this idea of what we want to attain, then everything becomes a calculus of appropriate actions and reactions, of right deeds, and wrong deeds. Our motivation is that we want to avoid eternal damnation no matter what. It’s not about God, but about our own desire. Our entire lives can be broken down into the concept that what matters most is what I get out of the relationship, rather than what I put into it. Said differently: what we desire is more important than who we desire.

    When it comes to human relationships, it’s often easy to detect that something is off between people, that there’s some underlying feeling that is missing. But when it comes to our relationship with God, we can often confuse activity with relationship. I go to church, therefore I’ve spent time with God. I volunteer at the food bank. I help cook for church potlucks, I belong to various committees and attend meetings regularly, I usher, I serve at the altar, and therefore, I have spent time with God.

    But all of that is activity. I can go to church, and refuse to be moved by the sermon or by the liturgy. I can volunteer at the food bank, but look with disdain at all the people I am “helping.” I can spend time on various committees and push my own political agenda instead of spending time in prayer with others to determine what might be the best course of action for the church. I can usher or serve at the altar, and do it just to be seen, rather than doing it to serve God and others. All that activity can be empty, and devoid of any meaning other than helping to make us look and feel good.

    If we wish to seek God, then we need to examine whether what we are doing is intended for our own benefit, or because we wish to draw near to God.

    Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded.

    James 4:8

  • Love, or Power?

    Today’s Daily Office Readings – Gospel ( Matt. 16:21-28 )

    “Get behind me Satan!”

    Peter doesn’t want Jesus to die, as is natural for someone who has become your teacher, friend and mentor. But instead of turning around and saying, “Thanks, Peter, that’s awfully kind of you,” he turns around and says, “Get behind me Satan!”

    Seriously? What? I’m sure Peter meant no harm by it. Or didn’t he?

    “You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

    Human things, Peter was thinking about “human things.”

    Things like power, control, respect, and the feeling of safety.

    He didn’t want Jesus to be rebuked and ridiculed by the powers of the day. He didn’t want Jesus to suffer at the hands of those who held the power. He didn’t want Jesus to die.

    Instead, he wanted Jesus to lead, to show his mighty power, to be in command.

    The way to true power, Jesus tells him, is to pick up his cross, to deny himself, to lose his life for the sake of Christ.

    Talk about a bad Membership Drive:
    “Come join us! Lose your life in order to find it!”

    But that is, in fact, the rallying cry of the Gospel. Christ suffered and died for our sins – exactly what Peter didn’t want to have happen to him. He endured the humiliation and pain of of the cross, so that his work of unending love might be made supreme over the power of death. And if we choose to let go of the earthly desires for power, control, and instead seek to move in Love, then we too will find freedom and power – they just won’t look like the earthly versions of those same things.

    But just like Peter, I think too many of us fall into the temptation to focus on the things of this earth; to see the power to control others and the respect to persuade people to do as we decree as real goals of our religion:

    “We have to vote for Candidate X, so that we can pack the supreme court with judges who will vote according to our faith.”

    “We need to vote against Candidate Z, because he is a godless heathen who doesn’t agree with our morality.”

    These may be valid reasons for voting, but in some of my past experiences, the focus turns to how to make other people live their lives according to our beliefs by enacting laws that will force them to do so, rather than changing their hearts and letting them make their own moral choices.

    In other words, we focus on the earthly power, at the expense of doing the work of the Gospel.

    One of the denominations I spent time in several years ago, focused heavily on the anti-abortion movement. I was a bit of anomaly in that group, since rather than wanting to see people stand outside an abortion clinic calling people sinners, murderers, and spitting on them as they entered, I wanted people to sit down with those who might consider walking into a clinic to understand their reasoning for making this choice. Was the choice driven by an economic nature, were they receiving intense pressure from parents, lovers, or friends. In the end, the choice should be theirs, but if their choices were dependent upon economic factors, or societal issues, then couldn’t we sacrifice of our own time to right those wrongs, rather than essentially wasting our time standing outside a clinic showering them with hatred instead of God’s love?

    That type of thinking earned me quite a bit of rebuke. Because, I was told, we needed to make sure that people followed God’s law, and if we had the political clout to change the laws of the land to force people to do so, then we should. My responding argument was always to say that if we have not changed the hearts of people, and instead are forcing them to modify their behavior to meet our demands, then all we have done is made our religion a battering ram and taken on the role of the oppressor. It didn’t matter if the issue was abortion, or abolition, if we were going to wage the battles for morality in the courtrooms, rather than in the hearts of those we met, then in the end we would need to be ready to follow the laws of those who might make us bow down to another god when Christianity becomes nothing more than the religion of the minority.

    And then where would that earthly power be?

  • Jesus Loves Me?

    Daily Office Readings – New Testament ( 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 )

    Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. 

    1 Corinthians 15:8-10

    Just recently, our church asked parishioners to take part in a spiritual life inventory, a survey really, and we were asked questions relating to our spirituality all the way to how often we attended church in a typical month. Almost all of the questions had a six answer range from “Very Strongly Disagree” to “Very Strongly Agree.” I am on the committee that will evaluate the responses and determine how we want to move the church forward in the future.

    One particular question that was included in our survey results had to do with core beliefs, namely, “I believe that God loves me unconditionally.” Now, I won’t tell you how many of our parishioners said yes to this, but I will tell you that it was lower than the norm across all people of all denominations that took this survey. The norm for all denominations for which this group had data said that only 66% of people believed that God loved them unconditionally.

    When I saw that, I mentioned that from a theological standpoint, I really found that disconcerting. The pastor agreed, and said that we have “lots of work to do.” Naturally, I agreed.

    But I’ve been thinking on this concept of Grace and Unconditional Love for a bit now, and one of the things that I notice when I speak with people who explain that they do not feel God’s love is that they have often experienced some kind of hurt as a child. That hurt has left them with feelings of shame, or guilt, or simply with the feeling that love has to be earned. Through no fault of their own, they have been hampered in their experience of the divine.

    A few years ago, while in another denomination from my current, I heard a story of a pastor who had prepared a sermon he was quite pleased with and was looking forward to preaching. But when he stepped up to the pulpit, he felt that God had told him to simply preach “God Loves You.” And so he did. He kept saying the same three words over and over with different emphasis and at different speeds, and after a while, several people int he congregation began to cry. It wasn’t because the pastor had been going on for about fifteen minutes by then and that they were bored to tears, but rather, those people told him afterward that they had well and truly felt God’s love for the very first time in their lives.

    Out of all the people who were there that day, only four people in that congregation had started to cry and felt God’s love for the first time in their lives. Perhaps the others already knew and experienced God’s love, or, perhaps, they belonged to the group that has not felt unconditional love before, and they too heard the words, but didn’t feel God’s love that day. We can’t know for sure.

    As I thought about this story, and about the conversations I have had with people, I realized that there isn’t so much that we can do to teach about unconditional love or grace. Sure, I can share all the passages of scripture that deal with God’s love, or share all the theological concepts of grace and love, but it won’t help. It is something that has to be felt, and no amount of “book knowledge” will help people to understand it. It is something that needs to be left up to the Holy Spirit.

    And so while I agreed at first that we have “a lot of work to do,” I think now the only work that I can truly do is to continue loving my neighbor as best as I can, and to continue praying for those people that they will be blessed with experiencing God’s love in actuality.

  • Born From Above

    Lectionary Readings – (Second Sunday in Lent)

    [This sermon used a lot of props, so I’ve included photos of the props, and I’ve left in my “stage notes” to show when and where I used them.]

    When I read the scripture for today, and realized that the passage was John 3:16, I began to think back to where and when I had last seen that passage outside the context of church. I immediately got to thinking about merchandising and marketing. … You know, like hats that say “John 3:16” on them, or shirts that have a bible verse on them or those rubber bracelets that say WWJD on them and which look like every other rubber bracelet that are so popular right now to make people aware of a particular purpose or cause. 

    John 3:16, Austin 3:16, Vegvisir Symbol Posters

    Then I got to thinking about sporting events, and how sometimes – if you watch enough sports anyway – you’ll see someone holding up a sign that says “John 3:16” on it. <Lift Up the John 3:16 Sign>

    Without context, though, most people won’t have any understanding of what exactly that verse means. Those who have been to church and understand the references to various books of the Bible will immediately understand that this sign as a reference to something in the Bible. And if they remember their Sunday school well enough, then they’ll probably also be able to even recite the verse.

    But for people without any history of church or Sunday School, this reference wouldn’t make much sense. I can imagine two people sitting at home, watching a game for football, when they see someone holding up a sign with “John 3:16” it, and one of them turns to the other and says: 

    “I wonder what that means, ‘John 3:16’?”

    “Hmmm… Dunno. Let me Google it. … <pause> Looks like it has something to do with the Bible – the book that Christians read. And it says that God loved the world and sent his only son into the world and that if you believe in the son you’ll have eternal life.”

    “Wait! God has a son?! … Does he have any daughters? But what exactly are we supposed to believe? That his son exists?”

    “Hang on. Googling. … Says here that you have to believe that you are sinful, but that the son died so that you could have your sins forgiven.”

    “Wait a minute? I have sin? I’m a good person. I’ve never killed anyone, or stolen anything. What exactly is sin?”

    “Hang on. Googling. … Whoa.  Looks like there’s a whole list of stuff here that’s considered a sin…. – Dude. you better put out that cigarette and gimme your beer or else you won’t get to live forever. Sinner.”

    “Oh hey, the game’s back on. Hey, what happened to the guy with the John 3:16 sign?” <hold up Austin 3:16 sign>

    “Hmmmm…. looks like the guy holding up the ‘Austin 3:16’ sign beat him up.”

    Now, if you didn’t understand that Austin 3:16 reference, it’s OK, because I’m trying to make a point. If people have no reference – no context – for the citation of John 3:16, then most likely people won’t even bother looking up some random reference that someone is holding up at a football game.  For people who are not aware of anything even remotely or tangentially related to the church, looking at a scripture verse outside of any context would make about as much sense as me holding up this Vegvisir symbol and asking some of  you to explain it. <hold up Vegvisir sign> 

    It simply doesn’t make much sense without the context, and most of you will probably forget the symbol before I’m even finished with this sermon.

    This lack of context is what Nicodemus is experiencing in today’s readings.

    When Nicodemus comes to Jesus to ask him about his teachings, Jesus tells him that the only way to understand what is happening is that Nicodemus needs to be born “from above”.

    And Nicodemus essentially says, “Um, What?! How can you be born again if you are old? Do you want me to climb back into my mother’s womb?”

    And Jesus says that in order to understand what he is speaking of, in order to understand the concepts that he is sharing, one needs to be born of water and spirit. He then says that all those born of the Spirit move according to a purpose that others cannot quite discern. – I’m paraphrasing, of course, but that’s the part about not knowing from where the wind comes.

    Now, it’s interesting that this word that Jesus used can mean “from above” or “again” or “anew.” Nicodemus interpreted it to mean “again,” while Jesus meant “from above.” Nicodemus saw it as a singular event in history, while Jesus saw it as a spiritual issue.

    Those that focus on “again” tend to focus on making a certain set of confessions and statements of beliefs, so that you can point to the exact time and day that you were born “again.” But Jesus was talking about a transformation of the mind that allows us to see and understand the concepts that he has shared. Being born “from above” is not so much something that we do, but something that was done for us, and will continue to be done for us as the spirit of God transforms our minds to understand the will of God.

    But, of course, we cannot forget exactly why God sent his son into the world, and why we need saving. 

    God sent his son to save us from ourselves. To pull us out of our sin. To make us worthy to enter into heaven and stand in the presence of God.

    If you look at the Catechism in the BCP – on pg 848 – you’ll see that the answer to the question of “What is sin?” is simply, “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.”

    And we have that innate tendency within us. Again, the BCP tells us – on page 869 – that by our own nature, we are inclined to evil, so that we consistently seek those things contrary to the Spirit. In other words, left to our own devices, we will seek those things that are against God, against other people, and against all creation. 

    Too often, however, just like our overly curious Googling football fans earlier, we tend to come toward the concept of God’s saving act from the perspective of a catalogue of sins. 

    Pault Tillich, who taught at Union Theological Seminary in New York, writes that 

    “People who call themselves Christian – parents, teachers, preachers – tell us that we should be ‘good’ and obey the will of God. For many of them the will of God is not very different from the will of those socially correct people whose conventions they ask us to accept.”

    (Paul Tillich, “The Eternal Now: The Good That I Will, I Do Not” p. 49)

    Sin is not at all about social niceties.

    Sin is not about meeting the expectations of the people around us or the society in which we live.

    Sin is not about abstaining from certain actions and making sure to engage in other actions.

    Sin is about looking at God and saying, “My will be done. You had your turn.”

    Now, you may be thinking that this passage doesn’t really mention sin at all, and you’d be right. But we need to take this passage in the context of the Gospel story about Jesus of Nazareth to understand what Jesus was saying to Nicodemus here. We need to understand the context of God’s desire to save all people to understand why God sent his son into the world. And the need for sending his son, while not mentioned in these verses, is sin.

    However, in verse 17, Jesus himself says that God did not send his son into the world to condemn it. Instead, God sent his son into the world so that everyone can enter into the presence of God for all eternity.

    And God did it all out of Love.

    This idea that God sent his son to the world to save us from our sins seems like it would fit in so much better during the Easter season, rather than in Lent. This idea that we are made whole through Jesus’ death is often what we use to share the “Good News” with people. This idea that we have been made worthy to stand in the presence of God through the death of God’s son is a reason to be joyful. The resurrection of Christ at Easter is what makes all of this possible after all, and Lent… well Lent is supposed to be a time when we reflect upon those aspects of our lives that draw us away from God, and draw us away from living according to his will.

    And this is why Nicodemus comes up in Lent. In this passage, we see that he comes to Jesus in the middle of the night. He is a Pharisee, after all, a leader of the Jews, and the social expectations placed upon him would keep him from visiting a man who has been causing trouble for the Jewish leadership from when he first started teaching. Nicodemus is a man who has lived according to the strict rules that the Pharisees have placed upon those that followed the Jewish faith. He is being good according to what he has learned from his parents, teachers, and preachers. It is because of this that he cannot quite understand why God would say that all will be saved. Nicodemus, just like we might be tempted to do, sees rules and regulations to be followed, instead of seeing the love that God has for all people, and not just those that follow the guidelines of the community.

    And, seen in the context of the Gospel of John, we begin to see a clearer picture of Nicodemus. First he came by night, but then, later, in Chapter 7, we see that as the Pharisees want to arrest Jesus, Nicodemus asks them,  “Does our law judge a man without first giving him a hearing and learning what he does?” Granted, it’s a timid defense of Jesus, but one that made the other Pharisees question Nicodemus’ allegiance. And then, finally, we see Nicodemus again in Chapter 19, where he, along with Joseph of Arimathea took the body of Jesus and buried it, with Nicodemus providing the spices to help embalm the body.

    There is nothing immediate about the change that Nicodemus experiences, going from one who comes to talk to Jesus at night under the cover of darkness, to one who is a true disciple, helping to bury Jesus’ body. It is a slow, progressive transformation of his spirit and of his mind. 

    Nicodemus had been born “from above.”

    He was spiritually transformed within the context of the lives of both Jesus and his disciples.

    But it certainly didn’t happen immediately.

    And this is where I will turn the story back to us.

    We know from today’s Gospel reading that God’s will is that none should perish.

    And in order to do that God needs us.

    Because we are the context through which God is made manifest in this world.

    T-shirt, Episcopal Church Hat, Rosary and rubber bracelet.

    It might be easy for us to hold up a sign at a football game, or to put on our religious hat <put on hat>, to put on our religious jewelry <put on rosary>, or to put on a rubber bracelet that tells people the truth about God. <flip over t-shirt> Or maybe we decide to wear a t-shirt telling people their need for a savior, all while hoping that people will ask us what it all means.

    But all of this <point to the hat and other props> is nonsense without the context of a life transformed by God. 

    God is made manifest in this world through us.

    It doesn’t matter what we wear, what we eat, or how we look.

    What matters is that we allow ourselves to be transformed by the Love of God so that when others look at us they see the Love of God in the context of our lives.

    And if people don’t see the Love of God in our lives, then all of this <point to the hat and other props> is just false advertising.

    And so, as we continue in Lent, let us keep looking for ways to allow God to transform us, so that we can become more and more of an advertisement for God’s Love by sharing the love we have received.

    None of this will happen immediately.

    It certainly didn’t happen overnight for Nicodemus.

    And it won’t for us either.

    But it will happen.

    [This sermon was delivered at Christ the King Episcopal Church in Tucson, AZ on January 5, 2020. Listen Here.]

  • Love ’em all, let God sort ’em out

    Daily Office Readings – NT ( Romans 13:1-14 )

    This passage today starts out with calling people to obey the authority of government, because God has ordained it; if people rebel against the ruling authority, then they can be found to be rebeling against God, since he has put into place those who are in power.

    It’s a favorite passage of those who are in power, because they like to remind people that God has ordained their authority, and that any distrust of their activities means that people are resisting what God has ordained. In short, “Do as I say, because I’m God’s anointed.”

    This passage was a favorite of the slave owners as they attempted to keep the slaves in line and away from outright rebellion. It was a favorite of those in Nazi Germany who approved of Hitler’s actions and were trying to thwart the Confessing Church. It was also a favorite of the South African government during Apartheid when trying to keep in line those under oppression. And, most recently, it made the news again when former Attorney General Jeff Sessions attempted to make the point that people should just accept the administration’s immigration stance.

    It’s a great scripture to use when you are in power, because you can play on people’s religious beliefs to keep them in line with what you wish to accomplish.

    But Paul was writing to fellow Christians under the power of others, specifically the Romans. They were being persecuted, and they were most clearly not the ones in power, so why would Paul have told them to obey the ruling authorities? Precisely for that reason. They were being persecuted and Paul was telling them to keep their heads down so that they would not draw attention to themselves and make themselves targets for persecution.

    We also need to remember that even though Paul is pointing out that people should obey the ruling authorities, he consistently makes clear that the final word is not the current ruling authority, but rather that God is the final say, since it is God who has ordained or established those in power. This means that if the state were to enact a law that asked people to break God’s moral law, then the final say is that people would have to follow God and not the rules of men. We see this sort of behavior in the latter half of Acts 5, where the disciples were dragged into the Sanhedrin and told that they had violated the commandment not to preach about Christ. They replied that they must obey God and not men (5:29). They were then flogged and told not to do it again, but the very end of the chapter shows that they “never stopped preaching and proclaiming the good news that Jesus is the Messiah.”

    While the passage in Acts refers to Peter and some of the other disciples, Paul must have been of the same mind. Paul begins to talk about the laws that every good Jewish believer would know, but then he says that the law is all summed up in the words “Love your neighbor as yourself,” because “love does no wrong to a neighbor.” In other words, obey the law as much as you must to comply, but if the law contradicts the law of God, then default to loving your neighbor.

    Even in the midst of the persecution that the Christians in Rome were facing, Paul told them to comply with the law as much as they were able, and to default to loving their neighbor because love is the fulfillment of the law.

    Ultimately, this passage should never be used to force people to obey the law of the land without question, especially if the laws of the land do not follow the way of love. This passage is used to remind Christians that even though they may be facing persecution at the hands of the government, they still need to obey as best they can, unless the laws of the land begin to trail away from the ultimate source of authority, God and his love.