Sermon for Ecumenical Sunday, in the Octave of Prayer for Christain Unity

A couple weeks ago there was a news story about two pastors who called for a public stoning of gays in response to the gay wedding at the Rose Bowl parade. Now, I doubt they expected anyone to take them seriously, but the hate and vitriol behind such a joke is clearly evident.

A couple years ago there was a pastor who was proposing putting gays and lesbians in concentration camps, and was certainly a lot less tongue in cheek than the rose bowl parade pastors.

And so when it came time to preach during the prayer for Christian unity, my knee-jerk reactionary response was, “how do I pray for unity with people who want me dead?”

But here’s the thing that’s easy to forget. Knee jerk reactionary responses are the raison d'etre of the spread of these stories. They manipulate you in to waiting through advertising on You Tube to see if this is really what these guys said, or waiting through a radio commercial to hear more. And advertisers couldn’t care less if you agree or disagree so long as they’ve got your attention. 

Of course there is a division in among Christians concerning sexual orientation, and some of it seems insurmountable. And it’s hard to be patient about such things when Christians are still arguing over whether or not women are inferior to men (which is a whole other sermon, believe me.) And frustration can easily be fanned into rage by the inflammatory language of the attention grabbers. But there are the stories you don’t hear on the news. The stories of people who find out someone they know and care about is gay or lesbian, and they have to rethink their position on the argument.

And for the people who call for public stonings, I want to remind them of what did Jesus said to the people who brought before him someone they could legitimately stone to death. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” But doing this reminds me of my own sin, my own alienation from God and creation. And it humbles me.

A definition of humility I really like is “to remain teachable.” I so want to be right. I so want to have control. And admitting I don’t have all the answers can sometimes take more away than just my reactionary anger; it can make me question whether I have any of the answers. It can leave me questioning my call, it can undermine my understanding of my faith.

But how well do we really understand our faith?

There’s a human need to make sense of faith. Christianity was given to me in my youth as a package all wrapped up and tied in a ribbon. I was told that it all made sense. But I wasn’t allowed to unwrap the package or even tie the bow differently. And it didn’t make sense the way it was all wrapped up, and I struggled with it for years.

Then I came across a quote attributed to an early Christian apologist, “I believe it because it doesn’t make sense!” And that perspective was so freeing. All the crazy claims of Christianity are stumbling blocks to the Jews and foolishness to the gentiles, and that’s what makes it so compelling!

It is in letting go of the illusion of control, of being able to figure this all out, that freedom comes. No human can know the mind of God. Or as John puts it, “No one has ever seen God.” Except Jesus alone, who in faith we claim has revealed God. “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

And how do we understand this, how do we account for this? Well, there have been centuries upon centuries of debate about it. While for many the issue has been settled, it doesn’t really make any more sense. It’s still a crazy claim. It’s just the commonality of the claim, the fact that we’re used to it, that gives us the false security of sense, or understanding that we want and in some ways legitimately need.

Those of us who are sacramental in our faith eat bread and drink wine in a ritual setting, trusting that somehow, in some way we can never know or understand there will be body and blood; we will be in some way physically intimate with Jesus Christ.

And the mind can reject such an idea, which is why I encourage us to pay attention to the sensuality of it, to approach the altar with reverence beyond what it makes any sense to do, to surrender ourselves to the moment.

We are told in our first reading to say, “So now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O Lord, have given me.” We are told to set it down before the Lord our God and bow down before the Lord our God. If we can approach God acting as if our very life depended on God, as if all we have is a gift from God, then that truth can work its way into us in a much deeper way than mere speculation.

Turning to the words of Paul, I’d like to point out what he says about understanding. “And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that on the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.” That our LOVE may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight.

And is this not a prayer we can pray for all Christianity? Can we, as we question where we are right and where we are wrong, not ask that question in anger but in love? Can we remember that the early church welcomed Paul, who persecuted them?

Think of this: when Paul went to the council to plead for the inclusion of gentiles; ones who wouldn’t or couldn’t follow all the tenants of Judaism; who none the less had faith and the gifts of the spirit. He was facing people that knew Jesus before the resurrection, which he did not. But the real kicker? These were people he had been out to kill! Who’s brothers he sentenced to death.

He pleaded for those he loved, despite all the obstacles, all the opposition. And here it would be tempting to say he won his case. More accurately, the council recognized the grace of God in the conversion of the gentiles. Just as we are dependent on God for our lives and all that we have, so it is God, ultimately, that reconciles, not us.

And tonight you are worshiping in the oratory of the Order of Jesus Christ reconciler; an ecumenical order. How can we not participate in the week of prayer for Christian Unity? It takes a great many people from many different denominations, different understanding of faith to put together this week of prayer. Our rule calls us to be faithful to God's creative action and one’s own individual call. Unity does not mean we should stop arguing. But let us not argue as in “both sides think they’re right.” Let us instead champion those who we love and we know are loved by God.

We are an order that humbly seeks reconciliation between church and world, between divided Christians, between Christian and the church, recognizing that we also are the estranged who are reconciled only through the blood of the Cross. Knowing that we are only participating in God’s work; trusting that God desires reconciliation with all creation. This desire has been revealed to us in the Word made flesh.

Readings:

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Philippians 1:3-11

John 1:1-18

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Joseph we are told, was a righteous man, morally right and virtuous. Given a choice of how he was going to follow custom, he weighed his options and chose the way that would be least damaging to Mary. I say least damaging, because while not publicly disgracing her, she would still either be a problem to her family or be without any means of support.

But something happened just when Joseph had resolved to do this. An angel appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife” the angel told him. Now there are many reasons one could assign to Joseph’s fear, but at least one of them would be for a righteous man to go against custom. Joseph was trying to do the right thing. But often our ideas of the right thing are bound by custom. To break free of our assumptions, of what our society expects of us, this can be frightening in and of itself.

“The child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit,” the angel tells Joseph. Joseph would have heard through the scripture he was trying to live by that the Holy Spirit was involved in creation, God’s breath within us that was teacher and guide, and a manifestation of God’s presence. Exactly how Joseph understood this, given first century understandings of how pregnancy worked, we don’t really know. Did Joseph have any understanding that he was to parent the third person of the Trinity? I would guess not. That the child was of God, though, was clear.

But Joseph took immediate action after waking from this dream. There was no doubt in him that this was indeed communication from the Lord. Sometimes you just know. Other times it’s a bit more difficult.

I have prayed over many of the hard decisions in my life (and some of the easy ones too, for that matter.) But the hard ones require a special listening. Some kind of contemplative practice, some quieting of the mind I believe is needed in order to listen for that sometimes frustratingly still small voice of the Spirit.

Discernment is not an easy matter. Listening for the Spirit’s guidance can be tricky because it’s usually the most quiet voice within us. There’s our mental chatter to contend with. There’s our fear based ego to contend with. And there are also voices that are self-defeating, cunningly self-destructive, demonic if you will. It’s best, I think to have community, or at least a confessor – someone to get a reality check from. Because it’s not always clear which voice you are hearing.

Honestly none of my answers have come to me in dreams. And while I’ve had visions, most of them were vague and needed much interpretation; I did not know right away what they called me to do. Other times though, other times, it would be a seemingly random phrase an acquaintance made, or a snippet of song heard on the radio, and suddenly inspiration would come. Because I was listening for guidance, I would hear it loud and clear. Usually it was not an option I had previously considered, I just somehow knew that this new idea had not come from me.

And often, like Joseph, this new idea is a more compassionate response than conventional wisdom could provide. What if I behaved in a way no one expected? What would my friends think? Would people think I was crazy? All possible, and yet, my heart would know I was being genuinely loving.

Liturgically, we’re still waiting. Mary is pregnant, our Lord and our God has not yet been incarnated. But the “Christmas season” started even before Halloween this year. And while there’s plenty to complain about stores promoting Christmas this early, it’s a clear indication of how bad our economy is. Having worked in retail for decades, I can tell you without the emphasis on gift giving at Christmas; most stores could not stay in business. Pushing Christmas early I believe is evidence of how many businesses are struggling.

But along with the commercialization, comes the TV specials, the pretty songs, and other appeals to the heart. There’s a lot of talk of peace on earth and good will to men at this time of year. A lot of “Hallmark” or “After School Special” ideas of loving. A lot of genuinely well intentioned activity. There’s a lot of charity in people’s heart. Joseph’s original resolve would have been considered very charitable by the standards of his time and culture.

But perhaps we’re called to more. Not just as a gesture at Christmastime, but as a general rule. Can we ask ourselves, what would be the radically loving thing to do? What would be so loving that it would seem insane to those around us? Later in the Gospels, Jesus’ family wants to take him away, thinking he has lost his mind. Joseph is not mentioned in that story, it’s traditionally presumed he had passed away by then. Maybe he would have thought so too, maybe he would have remembered his own crazy act of loving during Jesus’ time in the womb, we’ll never know.

But we do know that Jesus’ radical message of love, of championing the outcast and unclean, of turning social expectations upside down, was enough for John the Baptist to question him, for his family to turn against him, for the powers that be to call for his death. This is the kind of loving those of us who follow Jesus are called to. A kind of loving we could never manage if he hadn’t gifted us with the Holy Spirit that conceived Him.

Readings: 

Isaiah 7:10-16  

Romans 1:1-7

Matthew 1:18-25