Showing posts with label Philip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philip. Show all posts

Sunday, January 14, 2024

call and response


Come and see...

Forty-three years ago on January 15th it was snowing in Washington, D.C. It was a light snow, falling gently through a gray sky. A co-worker and I were walking across the National Mall at lunchtime. Just past the Washington Monument we came upon a small gathering – small by National Mall standards.

There were thirty or forty thousand people standing in the snow, listening to Elihu Harris and other representatives from Congress, to celebrate the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr., and to remind us what he meant to our nation and the world.

Stevie Wonder was there too and he sang a new song to Martin, written for the occasion: “Happy Birthday.” We can still sing the song – and now we have a holiday – Martin Luther King Day.

But why talk about Martin on a winter Sunday in Tucson, Arizona, forty-three years later?

The gospel reading for  the second Sunday after the Epiphany, John 1:43-51, is about the calling of Jesus’ first disciples … and that is exactly why! On this Sunday we hear how Jesus met Philip and Nathanael, and invited them into his ministry.

“Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, ‘Follow me’ … Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.’ Nathanael said to him, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Philip said to him, ‘Come and see.’” (John 1: 43, 45-46)

Nathanael was from then on the quietly faithful one – we only hear his name again in the accounts of the Resurrection. Philip is the one who broke the news of the Messiah to the nations, by teaching the Ethiopian eunuch, vizier to the queen of the Ethiopians, all about Jesus, and baptizing him then and there. For all we know that the Ethiopian, who went on his way rejoicing, was the first to bring the gospel to Africa. Well done, Philip. Good and faithful, Nathanael.

What does this have to do with Martin – and you and me?

Well, in 1955 Martin was a fairly successful preacher, who had recently taken a pretty good job at a nice church in Montgomery, Alabama. Maybe the disciples Philip and Nathanael had pretty good lives too. But they seemed to be searching for something – or someone – more. So, as Philip told Nathanael – “we have found the one – the one we have been searching for.”

I suspect Martin was searching for something too. And it found him!

Rosa Parks in 1955 was a faithful, church-going lady, who rode the bus to work in the morning, and rode it home again at the end of the day. If you have ever been sitting on a crowded bus late in the evening, ready to go home, when one of these ladies comes down the aisle looking for a place to rest her feet, you know what tired looks like.

But back then, in Montgomery, Alabama, you had to move to the rear of the bus unless you were white. And if you weren’t white, and a white person wanted your seat, you had to get up and give it to them.

But this time, in December 1955, something happened.

Mrs. Parks sat down. She sat down in the front part of the bus. Even though she was black.

The driver told her to move. A white person wanted her seat. She did not get up.

Soon it was all over town.

“Everybody can sit anywhere on the bus – or we won’t be on it at all.”

This caused some consternation – throughout the community.

And Martin Luther King, as a respected local pastor, was asked to speak – to say why. Why justice needs to roll down like a river just as much as buses need to roll down the street.

Since that day things began to change – for Martin, who was called to something more than Sunday-morning piety, more than success, to preach good news to the poor and justice to the mistreated.

And things began to change – for the people of Alabama – and for us, too.

What had happened? Martin had stood in his pulpit in front of the church facing his congregation. But now he and his church were facing outward – toward the world, where they were needed, where their witness was needed: their hearts, their hands, their faith, their prayers, their walk with the Lord hand in hand with the people of their city.

Like Philip and Nathanael, we seek something more, we are called to something more, than simply to be “Israelites” of no guile.

Like Martin we are called to something greater than our own success.

Even – like Rosa we are called to put aside our own quiet life – and join something larger. We call it the Kingdom of God. So the calling and the challenge come to us in our time:

What is the Kingdom of God to look like here and now? How will we seek it?

JRL+ Come and see…. 

calling


Samuel

Here I am.


Samuel.


Imagine.


A boy. Alone. 


In a cold room.


Not alone. Not dark. Not really.


There is a dim lamp, still just burning. It hasn’t gone out yet.


So you can see, a glimpse, of what else is in the room. What else is in that room, but not in any other.


The Ark of the Covenant. 


Alone. But not alone. 


There is a voice.


It is not the voice of the old man. After all.


He heard the voice three times. Three times the old man said, I did not call you, go back to sleep. He tried. But the voice persisted. 


Samuel.


And the old man finally understood.


This old strange room where nothing unexpected happened, not for a long time. Where the routine had gone on for a long time, as if it would matter. Routine duties performed routinely.


The boy had learned the routine. He had routine duties, chores. Later that day, when it was day, he would open the door. Perhaps he swept the place out. Found oil for the lamp. Cleaned up after the sacrifices. But nothing happened. Nothing unexpected. Nothing unwanted. It was not as if the LORD were really there. Was it?


Samuel.


And the old man understood.


It was the LORD. The LORD was calling the boy.


It was not calling the old man, the high priest, or his wayward sons, his heirs to the post. No, his family was done.


This was something new, and very old.


Take off your shoes for this is holy ground. 


Here in this dark room in the middle of the night, where you might most expect it, and expected it the least.


It had been a long time since anyone had heard from God, and God had heard from anyone.


But now, 


Samuel.



And so the old man said, say something back. Say, here I am, LORD, your servant is listening. And the boy did.


And so it began. The LORD had something to tell him that day. A message for him to pass on. Something not so pleasant, but something true. And the boy said it. 


And it came to pass. And the boy grew up, and continued to say, and do, the things the LORD commanded, pleasant or no.


Among other things he anointed a king.  He found a young man, the youngest of eight brothers, and brought him out from among the flock he had been tending, and – from now on you will be shepherding people.



Centuries later it was just a story. A good story, but nevertheless. Shepherding people. Where was that shepherd king now? Now that we needed him. But what we had was an occupier. A terrifying overwhelming military force. There was no king, but Caesar. 


Was there? 


“We have found him.”


We have found the anointed one, the one to take the place of that ancient story. We have, and you should come see.


There were people by the side of a lake, mending nets. And to them came the man. From now on you will be fishing for people.


That ancient story was not so ancient anymore. The boy who had been tending sheep was pulled away to be king. The people who had been mending nets were pulled away to serve a king.


Not a king like any other, of course. Not one you could quickly see, as king. He was an ordinary man, maybe good looking (as that young shepherd had been), probably sweaty from hard days working as a carpenter’s son. Calloused hands. Dirty feet. 


Compelling voice. 


Not “Samuel” this time. But names came nevertheless. 


“Philip.” “Nathanael.” And “James” and “John” and “Andrew” and “Peter” and all the rest that followed.


Follow me, he said. Follow me, and the world will change. 


Follow me, and your life will change. 


And from that, all else will follow.


***

Come and see.


And from that all else would follow.


Those simple fishermen, as the song says, were the first. 


The first of many, from that small group of people, men and women and children in small villages by a small sea, and in the hills around, the message would spread. 


And become dangerous. And change things.


We should not be afraid, should we, if one small boy who slept in the dark cold strange sanctuary of the forgotten God, was not afraid, not afraid enough not to answer. 


We should not be afraid, should we, if a couple of guys hanging out by the beach a man approaches and says, I know what you were doing, I saw you, and now I call you.


We should not be afraid, should we, if the sanctuary lamp is nearly out, but not yet, if the occupation troops are nearby, if the Messiah has been expected for two thousand years, to come back, to us, in the silence of the midnight temple, in the glare of the lakeside beaches, in the simple moments of ordinary lives, made extraordinary, by that calm voice calling once more, should we?


Should we then be afraid if like old Eli we do not hear the voice, if like others we do not see the man, or hear his call, or have him come to us along the lakeshore as of old? 


We should not be afraid, should we, if we simply have the message, the news, the need, to be the ones to follow? 


Our task, our calling, our charge, is not so simple, or so scary, as the calling of Samuel in the Temple, David in the fields, or the disciples at the lakeshore. Perhaps. We are not often called to leave everything, at once or over time, that we have known, to strike out in a new direction, with new responsibilities and burdens. 


Sometimes a new calling would be a relief. Leave those nets un-mended, leave those sheep untended. Let that lamp go out. Drop everything and just – go. Light out for the territories. Pump the gas, fill the tires, wipe the windshield, and throw away the map. 


But it does not always work that way, does it? Perhaps not even for those disciples, those followers, that prophet, that king.


Samuel still had to sweep the temple, open the door, tend the lamp. But now he also had to tell the truth, the uncommon truth, uncomfortable truth, that he had to tell.


David could leave the sheep on the hill, but now he had to put up with Saul, with the onerous scut work duties of an apprentice king who could not call himself king or reveal himself king – if he knew himself that was his calling.


Philip, Nathanael, Andrew, Peter, James, John – they had a task to learn, a duty to fulfill, one no one had done before. Nobody had been in this situation before. The Messiah had not come before. (Keep it quiet!) 


Nobody has been in our situation before either. 


The lamp kept trimmed and burning, or sputtering out. The people demanding a king who get a shepherd boy.

The fishermen who expect nothing good out of Nazareth.


Would not we like they like things to be the way they were before? Before the pandemic, before the lost job, before the fall, before the call? But we too are called, perhaps not so simply or dramatically, perhaps not all at once, perhaps not so painfully, but we are called, too, to follow, as the first disciples were, to tell the truth, as the prophet was, to look after people, as the shepherd was. 


All of those, all of their duties and callings, are in us too, as the people of God. Together we have all those duties, those callings, and more: we have the tasks before us for our day.


How will we tend his sheep, fish for people, tell the truth? 


That is our challenge, to find out, and follow, today.




JRL+

Sunday, May 10, 2020

AEaster5 Philip and Stephen

Imagine you were Philip and you were standing watching from close by your brother Stephen as he is held down by a pile of rocks thrown by strangers imagine saying to him reminding him what our teacher told us what our teacher said to me as you Stephen stood next to me on that moment earlier remember this Stephen remember what he said I am the way the truth and the life no one comes to the father but by me Stephen he was 

Stephen he was talking to you and he was talking to me I am the way the truth and the life no one comes to the father but by me you’re going first Stephen before me but you won’t be the last all you did was tell the truth tell it in life to a hard hard hearted audience but the truth is that he is with you he is the path you were on he is the one who is holding you close even now he is the one who went before us the one who is with us as we go to the one who greets us when we arrive and the one who will be with us always

He will be with us always I go to prepare a place for you there he is in the city that will have been awaiting our arrival for years the city that he made that he owns that he is master of where we will join him and we will be with him forever and Philip we built it now we are building it now those stones are foundation stones in the church the city built with the blood of the martyrs in the mortar is the city that has the stones even of our persecution even of his gift of 

The stones even of his gift to sacrifice are the living stones you and I Philip the living stones out of which his home and ours is built God bless you Phillip God bless you Phillip we will see you again in him in Christ who is the way the truth and the life and through whom we all go to the father as we all have walked with him and he with us amen amen


May 10th 2020
Fifth Sunday of Easter
Acts 7:55-60
1 Peter 2:2-10
John 14:1-14
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

JRL+

Friday, May 1, 2020

hope



The Lord waits to be gracious to you;
therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you.
For the Lord is a God of justice;
blessed are all those who wait for him.

(Isaiah 30:18)

Pastors strive to give their congregations a message of hope. Troubled times. Isaiah calls on us to continue to be faithful. Jesus through the three Temptations he encountered in the desert remained faithful. Abide in the Lord. Depend on God. Worship him only.

And we want to hold on to these words of Isaiah. For God is faithful: he will see us through this.

Although we wait. 



Daily Office: