Sunday, March 5, 2023

Stages of Faith

PROPERS:        SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT, YEAR A   

TEXT:                JOHN 3:1-17

PREACHED AT ST. JOHN’S CHURCH, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, MARCH 5, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Lent is a season for growth and not just denial.

 

            I suspect we have all heard St. Paul’s words, For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.” Those words are from his magnificent Letter to the Romans.

            

Have we not all experienced that tension?  As Flip Wilson used to say, “The devil made me do it.”

 

            Perhaps.

 

            The reason may be, in many cases, an issue of maturity – or human development.  I look back on my earlier years and ask myself, “Why did I do that?”  It was as if Paul was inside my head.

 

            He may have been. Or at least I was subject to his theology.

 

            But there’s another answer – and both could be true.

 

            Jean Piaget, a Swiss psychologist, proposed a theory of human development early in the 20th century.  It has informed our understanding of human behavior ever since.  Many of our actions have to do with our stage of moral and intellectual development. Things which we would find intolerable later in life, we do quite willingly – and earlier in life.

 

            Piaget would say it was not because of the absence of the quantity of information, but the absence of the quality of information. Quantity versus qualityWe may know something to be wrong, but we do not know that that truth also applies to us.

 

            And, as we all know, years and age do not necessarily make us wiser.  We have no choice but to age in years, but, sadly, we do not all progress morally.  We may stay stuck at one stage of moral development.

 

            And here is where Piaget’s theory meets Nicodemus from the gospel lesson today.

 

+ + + 

 

            James Fowler was a professor at the Candler School of Theology at Emory University in Atlanta. Specifically, he was professor of theology and human development.

 

            In 1981, he published a book entitled Stages of Faith, which took Piaget’s theories about human and moral development and placed them in a religious context.  He identified six stages of faith which described the faith of nearly everyone.  Like I’ve said in other situations, I resemble that remark – though I don’t know exactly in which stage I would place myself.

 

            The stages and their descriptions are very complex. Yet, I suspect they describe each of us.  The earliest of stages – characterized by an infant or child’s engagement of the world – are very basic.  The middle and later stages probably describe all of us – from those of us who see God as an old man with a white beard to one has journeyed far in life and sees God in all things.

 

            Honestly, most of us are in Fowler’s middle stages, with a child-like faith that has been shaped by the ups and downs of life.  Our life informs our faith, as does how we interpret life.

 

We can rest assured, though, that the person who has reached what Fowler described as Stage Six – Universal Faith, is rare indeed. I have only known a few.  You would know that person as a living saint in your midst.

 

            We are not locked in one stage or another.  And one is not better than the other.  But you can seek to grow in faith.

 

+ + + 

 

            Which is exactly what Nicodemus does in today’s gospel.

 

            Nicodemus is a prominent man – a member of the Council, that is, the Sanhedrin.  He is a scholar – a learned and respected man.  His education was probably impeccable. But he wanted more. He was a seeker.

 

            His problem was not quantity of knowledge, but quality of knowledge.  He knew what he had read.  He knew what he had been taught. But he wanted more. He approached Jesus to deepen his experience of God. There, he found it. And we have this passage today to witness their encounter.

 

+ + + 

 

            Lent is an excellent time for us to strengthen our faith – to allow our inner Nicodemus to come out.  To go deeper. To see God’s presence in all our daily experiences and encounters. To find wonder and grace in everyone that we see… and in all circumstances. 

            Faith is a journey, not a destination.  Our journey is like the theories of Jean Piaget and James Fowler – we are developing. We are not where we will end up in that journey unless we become stagnant and stale. God is seeking to work in us and open our eyes more widely – if we are open to his movement. 

Sunday, February 26, 2023

Breaking Good

PROPERS:        FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT, YEAR A       

TEXT:                GENESIS 2:15-17, 3:1-7; MATTHEW 4:1-11

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Our mission in Lent is to progress in the journey to holiness.

 

            From 2008 to 2013, there was a television series that captured the attention of millions.  Like many times in my life, I was late to the party.

 

            The series was Breaking Bad.  It was the story of a mild-mannered, inconspicuous high school chemistry teacher, Walter White, and his descent into the depths of absolute evil.  It was a riveting storyline which ran over five seasons. Many of you have seen it.

 

            It was not a story of one person; many people – family and friends – were dragged with him into the abyss.  Some died; many lost their innocence; others were manipulated into doing things they would never have done otherwise. All in a quest for an elusive ill-defined reward.

 

            Walter White, the teacher-turned-drug kingpin, was iconic. He showed what humans are capable of.  He journeyed from an ordinary life to the depths of the dark side. From blandness to utter evil.

 

            We have all heard Paul’s words from the sixth chapter of his letter to the Romans: “The wages of sin is death.”But, in this case, the intermediate wages were copious, unimaginable amounts of money.  The long-term penalty would come later.

 

            In the first lesson today, from the Book of Genesis, we hear the archetypal account of the birth of sin.  It seems that the immediate quest of the man and woman is knowledge.  But the temptation for knowledge led them to open a chasm between themselves and their creator.

            

It is a story that deserves much more discussion and exploration.  An essential point, though, is their desire for something more – a focus on the self rather than a higher good.

 

            Contrast that passage with the gospel lesson from Matthew.  Jesus has just been baptized and is now driven into the wilderness.

 

            As one who has seen the wilderness of Judea, I would note it is an ideal place to go for isolation. Nothing is there except rock badgers, ibexes, and assorted hawks and buzzards. It is a perfect place to be alone – miles from anyone.

 

            The essence of the story is that Jesus is indeed alone – except for the temptations he faces.  The temptations are analogous to those that the man and woman faced in the Garden of Eden.  Like the man and woman, he is tempted to place himself at the center – something he refused to do, even in a state of severe want.

 

            You know the story – at least the highlights. Jesus’ path in the next three years took him on a mission of service, giving, healing, compassion, grace, and love – not the self-focused power with which he was tempted.  If he hadsubmitted to the temptation, he would have either been a shadow on the walls of history as a failed pretender, or we would remember him in a way similar to Herod the Great.  Either way, his legacy would be in ruins.

 

            Instead, he chose a journey toward life… and shares the gift of life with countless generations to follow.  We, too, are called to continue the journey.  Not the path that typifies the destruction that Walter White followed, but the path that saints have trod in the last 2,000 years.

 

            This season of Lent is a right time to continue… or begin… that journey.  We are beckoned to give of self and to turn toward the source of life and goodness.  We are called to spurn the pathway which takes us to power, unhealthy concern for self, and hatred and neglect of others.

 

            Yes, Paul wrote those famous words I quoted earlier in his Letter to the Romans. But he finished them with a different twist: “The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

            My fervent hope is that we turn away from self and progress on our journey in the coming weeks – to a life of deeper compassion, true empathy, reconciliation, holiness, and concern for others. That we, too, can be on that pilgrimage of eternal life. 

Habits of Holiness

 

PROPERS:          ASH WEDNESDAY, YEAR A        

TEXT:                MATTHEW 6:1-6,16-21

PREACHED AT HOLY TRINITY, PENSACOLA, ON WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The concept of Lent is to move toward holiness and not to take a meaningless or minor step in life.

 

            The admonition from Jesus has, for many years, seemed at odds with our Ash Wednesday practice. Hear his words:

 

"And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

 

            We will have ashes imposed on us as a sign of piety and devotion on this Ash Wednesday.  And then many of us will proceed with our normal course of life, with the dark marks on our foreheads remaining. People we encounter may stare strangely at us, wondering what the mark is.

 

            I have even seen President Biden, a devout Roman Catholic, engage media following his Ash Wednesday service, with the sign of the cross on his forehead testifying to where he has been.  Many of us, unconsciously, do the same.

 

            How do our actions compare with Jesus’ admonition?  How do our inner lives fit into the call of Lent toward holiness and piety?

 

            As a child and young Methodist who did not practice Lent, I was always mystified and curious about my friends who observed Lent.  They would freely talk of what they had “given up” during the forty days and nights of Lent. They would avoid chocolate, or caffeine, or soda (in Mississippi we just said “Coke” – and that covered it all).

 

            But I wondered how that made any difference to their inner life.  And I must say the same about myself and today’s sacrifices.  What are you giving up?  How does it impact your journey toward holiness that is supposed to go beyond the next six weeks? How is your life changed, in the words of the collect from this past Sunday, from glory to glory?

 

            A friend of mine from Mississippi, the Reverend Stephen Kidd, penned a response recently:

 

“If we give up anything this Lent, I suggest our grudges, malice, and hatred. We won’t miss them. If we take on something, I hope it is prayer for those hurting around us and generosity for those needs we hold up in our prayers.”

 

            That would be a beginning – a beginning of something which was a focus of this past Sunday’s gospel, transformation. We can take the first tentative steps toward personal transformation – from a people who carry grudges, bitterness, resentment, jealousies, and other feelings around like burdens.  The irony is that those feelings are not burdens for the others toward which we aim them, but burdens which we must bear.

 

            A first-step might be to wash the ashes off our faces and begin to find common ground with those from whom we differ – politically, economically, socially.  Speaks a kind word to someone. Open a door. Lend a hand. Shake a hand. Pat a back.

 

            Soon, those and other will become habits – habits of holiness. And those habits will become a pattern for your new, transformed life.

Becoming a Metaphor

 

PROPERS:          LAST SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR A

TEXT:                MATTHEW 17:1-9

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        A goal in life is to become “like” – a metaphor for the Gospel.  

 

            A good friend of mine during my thirty years of service in the Diocese of Mississippi was the Reverend James Beauregard Roberts. He went by “Bo.”

 

            Bo is an icon in Mississippi. He was rector of what was tiny St. Mark’s Church in a portion of Gulfport known as Mississippi City.  He arrived there a couple of months before Hurricane Camille destroyed the church – rebuilt it, and saw it grow.

 

            He was rector there at St. Mark’s for 45 years – through four bishops.  He led the rebuilding of the church after Camille and Hurricane Katrina.  It grew to be one of the largest parishes in the diocese.

 

            Bo is a noted raconteur.  His stories are legend.  His humor is memorable.  There is no short conversation with Bo.

 

            Conversations with Bo always begin with “It’s like this…” He compares one situation to another. All situations have an analogy.  Bo tells the truth through images. He speaks in metaphors.

 

            Metaphors can be defined simply as “the quality or truth of one thing being carried over to another.” Bo is a master of that. Metaphors – truth pointed toward something else.

 

            Which brings me to scripture.

 

            There are many levels of truth in scripture.  Don’t get sucked into that argument of primarily literal truth. That understanding removes so many layers of meaning to scripture. For example, is the important truth of the creation narrative in Genesis 1 the understanding that God created the world, the cosmos, and all that has ever existed in seven, 24-hour days? Or is a different understanding – that God is the source of everything – that is most important?

 

            Jesus spoke in metaphors – the Good Samaritan, the Wheat and Tares, the Prodigal Son, the Mustard Seed, the City on a Hill, the Pearl of Great Value, the Lost Coin – all great examples.

 

            As you might have noticed, I find great value in the metaphorical meaning of scripture. I find it a most instructive way to find the truth in scripture. The passage means this. To hear the metaphorical meaning is to access the scripture’s meaning for us today. At least 2,000 years later.

 

            So, it is with today’s gospel. This passage is known as the Transfiguration.  We hear the story each year on the Last Sunday after the Epiphany – as we prepare to enter Lent.  And we hear it, too, on one of the primary feast days of the Church – August 6, the Feast of the Transfiguration. It draws us again and again to God’s movement among people.

 

            In the passage, Jesus climbs a high mountain with what I call his Executive Committee, Peter, James, and John. There he is transfigured before their eyes; as one translation describes it, “whiter than any fuller could bleach them.”  Mysteriously and miraculously, he is joined by two prominent Jewish sages from hundreds of years before – Moses and Elijah.

 

            The message seems to be that Jesus is on par… equal to… these great figures so revered by the Jewish people. To many, that emphasizes Jesus’ status as messiah, and it does.

 

            But to me, more meaning can be found in the message that God transforms. God can take our limited, finite being and transform us into people that are able to manifest his renewing, redeeming power despite our human nature. We can bear witness to his redeeming power.

 

            When our lives are so transformed – when we turn back from destructive, alienating ways, ways that are as unique as each one of us – we, too, become metaphors.  We become someone or something that points toward a power which alters, changes, renews, and makes whole something which was previously self-defeating and limited.

 

            We become like Jesus. A metaphor.

 

            We have all known someone who we described as godly… as holy… as pointing toward what we would aspire to.  A message of the Transfiguration is that God can do that. The power on that mountaintop is available to you and me.

Monday, February 13, 2023

It's Complicated

PROPERS:          SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR A         

TEXT:                DEUTERONOMY 30:15-20

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        We typically do not make a single choice, but multiple choices which have a compounding effect.

 

            Life is a series of choices. They are like building blocks, determining what we become.

 

            The poet, Robert Frost, described the cumulative effect of those choices in his poem written in 1915:

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth…

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

 

            That poem has led to some monumental choices over the years.  But, as you likely know, life is a series of choices.  And those choices have a compounding effect.  They may lead us higher and higher, or perhaps take us lower and lower.

 

            There is a practice in engineering which applies to other aspects of life.  It is called Root Cause Analysis. As I have applied it in congregational consulting, it posits that there are typically multiple causes for issues of conflict, decline, or controversy in congregations.

 

            Root Cause Analysis has been applied or can be applied to many situations to show why things have gone off the rails. In the deep investigation, root cause analysis showed that there were many actions, inactions, or factors which led to the massive tragedies of September 11, 2001.

 

            Root cause analysis could be read into the compounding decisions in the Viet Nam conflict, as described in David Halberstam’s Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Best and Brightest. We could apply those same principles of multiple causes to Watergate and the staggering death toll of COVID.  In each case, there was a cascading effect caused by choices which were made.

 

            Our lives are built on such choices.  There may be a primary cause for success or failure… of employment… of health… of relationships… but there are always many choices which lead us to that point.

 

+ + + 

 

            Moses and the wandering Hebrew people are standing on the plains of Moab today.  They have been there for a long time, in the arid area of today’s south Jordan, near the eastern shore of the Dead Sea.

 

            Moses will soon climb the hills of Ammon, to the north, from which he will look across the Jordan Valley into the Promised Land from Mount Nebo.  There he will die.

 

            But first he wants to finalize his teaching.  He has conveyed the Law he has been given.  It began with the Ten Commandments and has been completed with oracle after oracle of minute directions for the ordering of life and community. Hear his words from today’s first lesson:

 

“I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.”

 

            Moses has given us a choice – as to our primary allegiance in this life.  That is an important decision, and one we have the opportunity to affirm on a weekly basis, even a daily basis.

 

            But like 9/11, the Viet Nam War, Watergate, and COVID, our daily decisions have a cumulative impact which lead us either toward or away from a life of ongoing sanctification.

 

            A friend once gave me an image that is enormously revealing to me: The unbaptized corners of our hearts.  Our choices should call us to bring those unbaptized corners into the light of Jesus’ redeeming love.

            With such choices, we build block-by-block. 

The Law of the Heart

 

PROPERS:          FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR A         

TEXT:                MATTHEW 5:13-20

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The superseding of the Law comes through a converted heart that obeys the essence through conversion.  

 

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished.”

 

            In Judeo-Christian practice, the Law originated at a place I recently visited – the craggy, extinct volcano in barren northernmost Egypt named Mt. Sinai.  It was there, scripture tells us, that Moses communed with God and received the Ten Commandments.

 

            Over the millennia, the Law developed further in the Books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy and the writings, to this day, of Jewish sages and rabbis. The Law, as it exists today, applies to every imaginable aspect of human existence.

 

            So, what does it have to do with us?

 

+ + + 

 

            Jesus says today, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law.” Yet, each of us likely violates the tenets of the Law multiple times each week.

 

            One of the delights of living on the Eastern Shore is the ready access to seafood.  Just this past week, Nora and I enjoyed roasted shrimp at our favorite restaurant, Red or White in Fairhope.  I thoroughly enjoy crabs, mussels, and oysters – though I wonder who exactly ate the first raw oyster.

 

            My other temptation is barbecue – pork, especially.  It is a delight when Randy and Von Nix or Jim and Lisa May smoke a pork shoulder for this congregation’s enjoyment. I had some this past Friday on the way to Atlanta. Even though I am not as good at it, I like to slow cook pork on my home smoker – whether it is pork shoulder, pork butt, or ribs.  I have always loved it.

 

            But all this, and much, much more, is explicitly prohibited by the Law.  Did you drive a car yesterday?  Not allowed. Did you cook lunch or dinner yesterday? Not okay. Did you work or shop yesterday? Out of bounds. 

 

Remember, according to the Law, the Sabbath was yesterday. Today is not the Sabbath.  Today is the Lord’s Day – the Day of Resurrection.  Does that free us from the requirements of the Sabbath found in the Law? According to the Law, maybe not.

 

Jesus loved the Law.  For him, it was a gift from God to order lives and to bring structure to communities. But he viewed the ways it came to be interpreted and the manner in which religious authorities applied it to be burdensome. The target was not the conversion of the heart, but adherence to every jot and tittle of the most minute interpretation.

 

For Jesus, the volumes of the Law, it’s very essence, could be greatly reduced: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” In his day, Jesus was not alone in that interpretation.  Other rabbis of his day said the same thing.

 

I suspect most of us think we adhere to this summary. But it is not a goal we reach, but something to which we aspire throughout our lives.  The more certain we are that we have reached that standard, the less likely we are to have gotten there.  It is a lifelong process of sanctification, always striving to move toward the goal of holiness.

 

A way I interpret it is to intend the best for each person and each thing I do. It is not something I realize.  I fall short mostly.  But I seek it.  

 

Pork, shrimp, mussels, and oysters? Doesn’t matter.  The heart is what matters.

The Power of Purple Passages

 

PROPERS:          FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR A    

TEXT:                MICAH 6:1-8

PREACHED AT HOLY TRINITY, PENSACOLA, ON SUNDAY, JANUARY 29, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The essence of a faithful life is found in a few simple words from the prophet Micah.

 

            The fall of 1984 was perhaps the time of greatest anxiety in my life.  It was my first semester of seminary at the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee.

 

            Nora and I had left our hometown of nine years to venture north.  We had left a congregation which was an anchor for us.  We had both left productive jobs.  We had left our home in Northeast Jackson.  And we had two young children in tow.

 

            It was a challenging time.

 

            I had been away from fulltime studies for nine years.  I was unsure of my academic abilities – especially in a challenging graduate environment.  It was a very vulnerable time.  My weight dropped precipitously.

 

            It did not help that nearly all the chips were on one course – the study of the Old Testament.  Some 80 percent of our class time was focused on that one course.  That course would decide my academic fate in my first semester of a three-year regimen.

 

            The professor was an Old Testament bear of a man.  His name was William Augustin Griffin.  He had taught Old Testament at Sewanee for thirty years.  He had taken the previous year off as he struggled with a health issue.

 

            But now he was back. A towering man with a booming voice.  His ruddy, florid complexion made him even more intimidating.  He was the personification of an Old Testament prophet.  And he brooked no nonsense.  He was the focus of his classroom.

 

            During that first semester, we studied Genesis and Exodus to a great extent.  We delved into the prophets as well. We came to know the timeline of the Old Testament and the key figures of its many stories. I gained a love of the Hebrew Scriptures that I never lost.

 

            We took copious notes.  Page after page after page.  But occasionally, we knew to put our pens down and just listen.  Mr. Griffin was preaching.  And it was magnificent.  His voice boomed with passion.  We could almost see coals of fire in his eyes.  His message was always clear.

 

            I came to love Mr. Griffin. The ferocity of his teaching was not aimed at students but reflected his passion for the subject.

 

            One way in which we came to know his essential emphasis was his identification of what he would call purple passages in the scriptures. Those passages, perhaps more than others, disclose the essential nature of God.

 

One, of course, was from the climax of the Joseph saga in Genesis, chapter 50.  Isaac has died, and Joseph’s brothers who many years earlier had sold Joseph into slavery, fear retribution from Joseph now that their father was gone.

 

            Joseph, instead, responds with grace that reflects the nature of God: “No, brothers, you meant it for evil against me, but God meant it for good.”

 

            That was one.  Others could be found in other passages of scripture.  One of my favorites is from the 38th chapter of Job.

 

            But we have one of the most disclosive purple passages in the first lesson today – a reading from one of the minor prophets, known as The Twelve, in the Book of Micah.

 

            Micah is offering the voice of God, recounting God’s actions in history to save his people.  And he is giving voice to the responses that God expects as thanks for his salvific actions.  It is quite simple:

 

He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you

but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

 

            As one of the ancient rabbinical sages said, “Go and do likewise.” In those few words, the prophet Micah has summarized the call to those who proclaim their faith -- to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.

 

            It’s really not hard or complex.  If we live a life that reflects that simple teaching, we needn’t worry about the complexities of the Law or its various applications over the millennia. We will truly have understood God’s purposes for us, and we will walk in the light of faith.