Sunday, September 15, 2024

As One With Authority

PROPERS: FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY 

TEXT:       MARK 1:21-28                                              

PREACHED AT ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, JANUARY 28, 2024

 

ONE SENTENCE:        True, given authority comes from Truth.

 

“They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes… What is this? A new teaching—with authority!”

 

One has to wonder how the listeners in that seaside Capernaum synagogue recognized his authority.  I wonder…

 

I have wondered about authority for a long time. I wrestled with that issue as I served as assistant to the bishop. Not just my authority… which stemmed directly from the bishop… but the bishop’s authority.

 

One can find trouble by assuming too much authority – authority which is rightly claimed, but not recognized. I knew a priest who was called to a congregation in another diocese. In his interview with the search committee, he said being rector is about exercising authority. I blanched when I heard that. Sure enough, he tried to exercise authority which no one recognized, and he was gone in a very short time.

 

I watched three of the four meet and greet sessions with the bishop nominees. Many of the questions posed to the nominees danced around the unspoken issue of authority.  The subject was never directly addressed.

 

It seems to me that there is formal authority.  With the bishop, it comes from the canons and the vows made by the people at the bishop’s installation and at clergy ordinations. A priest draws authority from the canons and Prayer Book, as well. There is formal authority parents have over children. There is inherent authority supervisors exercise with employees.

 

Yes, there may be rebellion against that authority, but the authority is there.  It is clear.

 

The greater area of authority is the grey area – the authority given out of respect.  You and I each know someone we have respected because of the integrity with which they live their lives and the manner in which they exercise leadership.  Bishop Duncan Gray, Jr., was one such person for me.  His authority went well beyond the canons and ordination vows I had taken. My respect for him transcended my own preferences and wishes.

 

There are many examples of such given authority.  Most anyone who has served in the military or gone into battle can think of a leader whose authority went well beyond their rank.

 

+ + + 

 

            But what was it about this 30-year-old newcomer to town – Jesus – who was seen as one with authority by the villagers?

 

            One aspect of that response seems to stem from what was not said at the bishop nominees’ meet and greet sessions.  Each of the candidates was asked about the role as prophet. Each expressed discomfort or tenuousness with that role.

 

            But Jesus did not shirk the authority which came with being prophetic. His authority – which we acknowledge to this day – came from truth.

 

            If you look at the prophets… even to this day… they are seen as having authority through their willingness tospeak the truth.

 

            That truth – spoken for our own spiritual good – may make us uncomfortable. It may make us squirm. It may offend us. But the authority of truth is what we need to hear. 

Just the Facts, Ma'am

 

PROPERS: THIRD SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY 

TEXT:       MARK 1:14-20                                              

PREACHED AT ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, JANUARY 21, 2024

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Mark’s account of the call of Peter, Andrew, James, and John foreshadows the expansion of the covenant relationship.

 

            A long time ago, there was the TV series, Dragnet, which featured as its key star LA Police Detective Joe Friday.  He was known for his simple question, “Just the facts, ma’am.”

 

            That is what the evangelist, known as Mark, gives us in his gospel. Just the facts.

 

            Mark’s gospel is the briefest of the gospels – just the facts. No fluff. No long diatribes. The essential story. 

 

It is known, along with Matthew and Luke, as synoptic gospels, which means “taken together.”  Mark’s content is the basic structure of the other two synoptic gospels. Matthew and Luke apparently used Mark’s earlier writings as a framework for their versions.

 

            John’s gospel is largely different and was composed later. It is from different sources.

 

            That makes what we hear today that much more important.  The calling of Jesus’ four most important disciples – his executive committee – Simon (who will be renamed Peter), his brother Andrew, and the Sons of Thunder, brothers James and John.

 

+ + + 

 

            This is just the tip of the iceberg. The iceberg’s base is thousands of years before.  And we stand on the surface.

 

            It has to do with the covenant.  The earliest covenant is seen in the story of Abraham, and the call from God to leave his home and go to a land which he will be shown. And he does.

 

            The covenant is with Abraham’s family – which does not exist at that point.  But he is told by God that his descendent will number as the stars. But it is only him and his wife Sarah at that point. He responds in faith.

 

            Later, a covenant is made with Moses – and the covenant extends to all the Hebrews in captivity in Egypt. When the previously-enslaved people, after 40 years of wandering, enter the land they had been promised, they see themselves as the chosen people.

 

            For centuries, the boundaries of the chosen people are rigid. Birth into the covenant is the primary entrances.  But a debate rages – and the story of the greatest king of Israel, David, is told. He is the great grandson of a Gentile.

 

            The borders are hard. They preserve the community’s collective identity.  But here comes Jesus…

 

            Yes, Peter, Andrew, James, and John are people of the covenant.  They are Jews. We do not know how observant or orthodox they are. Still Jesus calls them.  They are to be the tip of the spear of his budding ministry.  They foreshadow things to come. The mission continues.

 

            Jesus will later communicate with a Samaritan woman – breaking two barriers; talking with a solitary women and a Samaritan.  He will eat with a scorned tax collector -- Matthew.  He will share a parable in which an unclean person – a Samaritan – is the hero.

 

            Later, Peter will baptize the first Gentile family in the Book of Acts.  And Paul will convert from a radical persecutor of Christians to the greatest of all missionaries.  As Paul Harvey said, “And now you know the rest of the story.”

 

            Here we are today, 2100 years later after that scene on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. Beneficiaries of the call of Peter, Andrew, James, and John.  We are recipients of that ever-expanding covenant, first spoken to Abraham on that starlit night 4,000 years ago.

 

            I would say the call of Peter, Andrew, James, and John bore fruit.

Embracing the Light

PROPERS: SECOND SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY 

TEXT:       1 SAMUEL 3:1-20; JOHN 1:43-51                                             

PREACHED AT ST. ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, JANUARY 14, 2024

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The light of Christ (from God) comes subtly or suddenly into our lives. 

 

            One of my more humorous recollections of childhood is from my maternal grandmother’s house in Hattiesburg.

 

            It was a large, decrepit, old house my great grandfather had ordered from Sears Roebuck and built for my great grandmother. It was on a large lot at 2400 Hardy Street in Hattiesburg.  That lot is now a Methodist Church.

 

            Trust me – it had seen better days. But it was a source of awe and amusement for me and my young cousins. None of us would dare to go into the dark, damp basement.

 

            On occasion, though, we would venture down the winding stairs at night, with all lights off.  We were heading toward the kitchen. The lights had push buttons for on and off – a fashion of earlier times, I assume.

 

            Having snuck quietly down the dark stairs, one of us would reach around the corner and turn on the lights suddenly.

 

            The floor would move! Various critters would scurry to their hiding places. Lord knows what they were.

 

            We squealed with delight.  The light had pierced the darkness.

 

+ + + 

 

            This is the season of light – Epiphany, that is.  The light of Christ has come into the world. As John’s gospel noted two Sundays ago, the darkness did not overcome it.

 

            The three elements of the season of Epiphany are the Visit of the Magi, the Baptism of Jesus, and the Wedding in Cana.  You have or will hear the accounts of all three. They each point toward the messiahship of Jesus.  They shed light on him as unique in all of history. Light is the image of the season.

 

            Throughout scripture, light is seen as a sign of God’s movement in the world.  It begins with the creation narrative in the Book of Genesis.  Psalm 27 says, “The Lord is my light and my salvation.” 

 

            The light of a star guides the Magi to see the newborn Jesus. The old man, Simeon, noted at the eight-day-old Jesus’ presentation, refers to Jesus as “a lighten to enlighten the Nations.”

 

            Jesus refers to himself as “the light of the world.” (John 9:5). 

 

            Today, light is healing and is used in some medical treatments to heal wounds.

 

            But let’s be honest. Light causes shadows.  Like in my grandmother’s house, some things scurry away from light.  Some things within ourselves. And we may not know when darkness is motivating us if the light was not present in us.

 

            And as I noted a few weeks ago, we all have dark, unbaptized corners of our heart. Those need to be brought into the light. How do we do so?

 

+ + + 

 

            First, we listen. It can come subtly. In the first lesson today, young Samuel hears God calling to him.  Yet his mentor, an old priest named Eli, could not hear it. It was not until he was quiet and trusting that he was able to hear God’s call to him.

 

            Second, we are attentive to God’s movement around us. It can come suddenly. In the gospel lesson today, Nathanael was likely living an ordinary life when his friend beckoned him to come see Jesus.  It was in those moments of first encounter that Nathanael’s eyes were opened, and he saw the truth.

 

            The light which comes creates a city on a hill, which can be seen for miles. It is, as Jesus says, a light which you do not place under a bushel basket.

 

            Subtly or suddenly, it comes. It can guide you – if you listen and are attentive – to those dark recesses of your spirit that have not yet been shown the light. 

More Than a Rite of Passage

PROPERS: FIRST SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY (THE BAPTISM OF OUR LORD)

TEXT:       MARK 1:4-11                                                

PREACHED AT ST. ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, JANUARY 7, 2024

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Baptism is the foundational sacrament of the faith and combines four theological fundamentals in its transformational exercise.    

 

            Today is a major feast day in the church year. It commemorates our Lord’s baptism.

 

            But we likely would not be here today if something had not transpired 1,910 years ago.

 

            We can trace the growth of Christianity to that event – the Edict of Milan in 313 A.D.

 

            The Edict of Milan was transformative for the ancient church.  For centuries, Christians had been persecuted by the Roman government for exercising their faith and ignoring the traditional worship of the emperor as a deity.

 

            But Emperor Constantine, who had ascended to his throne in York, England, changed all that.  From 313 forward, the practice of Christianity was legal.  And the floodgates were opened. For the coming centuries, Christianity would be the state religion – for better and for worse.

 

            In coming centuries and in many countries, the power of the state was the power of the church. And the power of the church was the power of the state.  We need only look to the formation of the Anglican Church and the role of Henry VIII to see an example of that.

 

            The truth is this: Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

 

            Yet, there is a little-known fact in those details.  Constantine did not become a Christian until he was on his deathbed. And even then, his baptism reflected the most menial understanding of that profound act.  It is an understanding that continues even today. It is viewed as a get out of jail free card.

 

+ + + 

 

            The meaning of baptism that we remember and practice today has various threads deep in the roots of our faith.

 

            The first is conversion.  This was practiced even in Judaism long before Jesus as people, who sought to convert, studied the faith and teachings. After rigorous study, they would be baptized as members of God’s chosen people.Conversion is the first thread.

 

            The second thread is deliverance. This is recalled in the prayer that is the Thanksgiving Over the Water on page 306 of the service of Holy Baptism.  We recall the saving act of God in delivering the Hebrew people through the Red Sea in their flight from Egypt.

 

            We also recall sharing in Christ’s death and rising with him to New Life in his resurrection.  These are the elements of the second thread of baptism – deliverance, out of death into life.

 

            The third element forgiveness of sins.  We hear the story today of John the Baptist’s ministry in the River Jordan.  He was baptizing even the faithful people from the Jewish faith.  But he was baptizing them, not for conversion, but for the repentance and forgiveness of sins. That is the third thread in our Christian baptism – the repentance and forgiveness of sins.

 

            The fourth and final thread of Christian baptism is the gift of the Holy Spirit. It is an important aspect in our observance of the sacrament.  The gift of God’s indwelling, animating force in our lives, from the moment of our baptism forever cements our relationship to God. This gift is testified to in the early days of the church, specifically in the Book of Acts.

 

+ + + 

 

            Despite his important role in church history, I think it is safe to say that Constantine did not realize the depth of meaning in his deathbed baptism.  Sadly, he likely approached that moment like many people I have discussed baptism with over the years. The span of approaches ranges from a simple Rite of Passage (which it certainly is) to what we could call fire insurance (seeking assurance that the baptismal candidate will avoid the flames of the fiery pit).

 

            It is those things, but so much more.

 

            To summarize it best, look to the rubric which precedes baptism; a rubric found on page 298 in the Book of Common Prayer:

 

Holy Baptism is the full initiation by water and the Holy Spirit into Christ’s Body the Church. The bond which God establishes in Baptism is indissoluble. 

 

            It is so much more than a special Kodak moment.  It establishes God’s blessing and potentially sets the candidate on a new path. 

Seeing the Imago Dei

PROPERS:          BURIAL OF THE DEAD

TEXT:                ROMANS 8: 14-19, 34-35, 37-39

PREACHED AT FUNERAL FOR MARILYN HOLLEY AT ST. PAUL’S CHAPEL, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SATURDAY, AUGUST 19, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        God’s vision, which we are called to emulate, views the imago Dei in each person.

 

 

            Last Saturday I was with a group of some 400 Episcopalians from the Dioceses of Alabama and the Central Gulf Coast on a swelteringly hot day in Hayneville, Alabama. We were commemorating the 58th anniversary of the martyrdom of Episcopal seminarian Jonathan Myrick Daniel.  The anniversary of his death is on the Episcopal Calendar, and this was the 26th annual observance of that day by these dioceses.

 

            At a base level, I could observe that you couldn’t swing a dead cat without hitting a bishop. Bishop Glenda Curry from Alabama was there, along with our own Bishop Russell Kendrick.

 

            Bishop Kendrick celebrated at the Eucharist in the Courthouse. Bishop Phoebe Roaf of the Diocese of West Tennessee was the preacher.  She is every bit the sister of her brother, Willie Roaf, the Hall of Fame offensive lineman from the New Orleans Saints.

 

            She spoke of her experiences growing up African American in Pine Bluff, Arkansas.  Her words were not bitter and resentful. She grew up in a close, loving family. The lessons of those experiences informed her love of and perspective on the Gospel.

 

            Her solid foundation led her to Harvard University, Princeton and then to law school at the University of Arkansas. After practicing law for a few years, she perceived a call to seminary – and she went to Virginia Theological Seminary.

 

            She had not lost her love for the Gospel.  After several years of serving congregations in the Diocese of Louisiana, she was elected and consecrated as Bishop of West Tennessee. The transformative love found in the Gospel and life of Jesus Christ comes through in her words and manner in a meaningful way.

 

            Her sermon in Hayneville was in the form of a dialogue with Bishop Glenda Curry.  Bishop Curry asked her about her understanding of the Gospel and how it informs relationships between races, classes, and people of different perspectives.

 

            Bishop Roaf did not speak about social justice, economic, or political issues. She spoke, instead, about vision – specifically, how we see each other. The example of Christ is for us to see in one another not a race, or a political perspective, or an economic class.  Instead, we are to see the image of Christ in each other.  Not race, not politics, not class – just the image of Christ.

 

            It struck me in that moment how profoundly simple that is.  It strips away the layers history and displaces human limitations with the eyes of our Lord.

 

            This past week, as I visited with Marilyn’s daughter Sharon, she told me of her mother’s simple view of the many different people she encountered over her 92 years. During her years of teaching, nursing, and relating to many different people, she was always able to see them, not as someone different from her, but as kindred spirits – people with whom she had much in common.  Brothers and sisters, all.

 

            She saw students, fellow nurses, attendants, colleagues, people like you and me – all as people created equally… and equally deserving of love and respect.

 

            I think how much more simple my life would be… how freed of burdens I would be… if I had the simple, Christian vision Bishop Roaf described, and Marilyn lived. Maybe you have that wish, too.

 

            The second reading today is probably my favorite passage in all the New Testament. Writing to the church in Rome, Paul expresses the hope he so firmly embraces: 

 

“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” 

 

            Marilyn, our beloved sister in Christ, managed to live her life recognizing that nothing would obstruct the way she lived her faith. Nothing. And she did so without pretense. Gently. Lovingly.

 

            She was able to realize the aspiration of paraphrased words from a Robert Burn’s brief poem:

 

“O wad a powerful gift he gie us,

To see others as God would see us.”

  

Finding Those "Unbaptized Corners"

PROPERS:          ADVENT 3, YEAR B                                              

PREACHED AT ST. ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, DECEMBER 17, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Advent is a season of preparation; of turning inward.

 

            Some years ago, I was serving as rector at Church of the Resurrection in Starkville.  Like today, it was Advent – the weeks preceding Christmas and the Nativity.

 

            I preached a sermon that emphasized Advent and, some might say, castigated the congregation for premature celebration of Christmas.  Some might even say it was harsh.

 

            After the service was finished, I did as I usually did:  I stood at the back door and greeted congregants as they left the nave.

 

            There was one congregant, Babs Deas, who, it was said, you should go see if you needed a dose of happy. She was perpetually upbeat and always had a smile on her face. Her internal joy radiated from her.

 

            She approached me in the line of people whose hands I was shaking.  When she got to me, she looked up at me with big puppy dog eyes and said, “Well, bah humbug to you, too.”

 

            I got the point. 

 

+ + + 

 

            The problem was not the message – which we get in these four weeks of Advent – it was the manner of delivery.

 

            As Episcopalians, we know this on some level: No, this is not Christmas.  This is Advent.  I want to thank Hope for selecting hymns which emphasize that fact. We are in a season of preparation.

 

            But what does it mean to prepare? Let me share this thought with you.

 

            I have a very good friend who is a retired priest in Austin, Texas.  We talk weekly and text almost daily. He and I were discussing the puzzling combination of goodness and brokenness in each person. St. Paul describes that internal wrestling between good and evil in his Letter to the Romans: “Wretched man that I am!”  That was St. Paul – even hewrestled with his dark side.

 

            My friend from Austin shared this thought: “We all have small unbaptized corners of our souls.” Bingo.  That’s it.  Carl Jung, the Swiss psychotherapist, called those dark corners our shadow.  The more we deny its existence, the more it controls us.

 

            Some folks may say that they don’t need to prepare their hearts for the coming of God into our world – there are too many details that need to be tended to.  I would say all of us to prepare – some to a greater extent than others.

 

            A bumper sticker I have seen in Fairhope says simply: Critical thinking – The Other National Deficit.  I would say human deficit.  

 

This is the season – these four weeks – for each of us to go inward, really examine ourselves, and name the shadow or unbaptized corner of our hearts that need the redeeming grace of God. The Roman Catholic Jesuits – a deeply spiritual monastic order – have a series of prayers they call the Examen, which they pray twice daily.

 

            Find a place where you can quietly look deep within.  Acknowledge the good and be prepared to turn the broken part over the God’s redeeming power.

 

            Then – in eight short days left in Advent – you will be able to welcome the coming of God into this world. 

Stunned by Advent

PROPERS:          ADVENT 1, YEAR B    

TEXT:                ISAIAH 64:1-9; MARK 13:24-37                  

PREACHED AT ST. ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The apocalyptic vision of the season indicates that the foundations of creation will be shaken by the inbreaking of God.

 

            The symbols of the season warm out hearts.  The Advent wreath we lit this morning.  The lights in the city. The decorated trees in our homes. The beautifully-wrapped packages under our trees.

 

            They tell us that a special season is here.

 

            And then there are the biblical lessons – if we choose to hear them.

 

            Earthquakes… fire… stars falling from the sky… smoke… dark gloom.

 

            It’s enough to cast a pall over the beauty of the season.

 

            We hear it in the reading from Isaiah today: O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence-- as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil—

 

            And if we expect to hear words of comfort from Mark’s gospel, instead we get this: Jesus said, “In those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

 

            Not exactly what we wanted to hear.  Merry Christmas.

 

            But, for us and for those thousands of years ago, it is the vision of the inbreaking of God into this world.  It is an apocalyptic vision.

 

            Too often, we think of apocalypse in term of end times – the end of the world.  We think in terms of War of the Worlds, Independence Day, or The Day After. Everything comes crashing down around us. Humanity breathes its last.

 

            But the truth is much more comforting.  Apocalypse means hidden things are revealed. Truth comes to light.  As St. Paul says in his First Letter to the Corinthians: Now we see in a glass darkly.  But then we shall see face-to-face.

 

            The apocalyptic vision of the scripture is that through God’s movement every illusion, all obstructions, everything that is false will be stripped away.  And we will see the truth in all its glory.

 

            So, how does this apply to Christmas?

 

            It is so much more powerful than a small baby in a manger.

 

            It is that, yes.  But it is the beauty of God entering into the world as one of us. It is the message that the ground of our being (as a prominent theologian described it) has entered into history and into the lost and broken world around us.

 

            And what shakes the foundations?  What causes earthquakes, fires, tempests, smoke, and destruction?  It is the truth which that baby brings, and which he will share during his short time in flesh among us.

 

            The truth that Jesus brought and preached challenges the world as it is. It is truly apocalyptic – it reveals God’s hidden truth.  And the world is not the same.

 

            That message, that hope, is greater than all the tinsel, lights, foil, and foliage we may display.