Showing posts with label Psalm 138. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Psalm 138. Show all posts

Sunday, February 9, 2025

The marvelous peace of God



They Cast Their Nets in Galilee

1 They cast their nets in Galilee
just off the hills of brown;
such happy, simple fisher-folk,
before the Lord came down.

2 Contented, peaceful fishermen,
before they ever knew
the peace of God that filled their hearts
brimful, and broke them too.

3 Young John who trimmed the flapping sail,
homeless, in Patmos died.
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
head-down was crucified.

4 The peace of God, it is no peace,
but strife closed in the sod.
Yet let us pray for but one thing-
the marvelous peace of God.

https://hymnary.org/hymn/EH1982/661
William Alexander Percy, 1885-1942 (alt.)
The Hymnal 1982, #661


Some years ago a man born in the Tyrolean Alps of Italy wanted to go on an adventure. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of the saint he was named for. He was named after Francis Xavier, an adventurous saint who had travelled from his native Spain to the farther side of the planet, to India and the shores of China… who in turn was named for Francis of Assisi, who centuries before had traveled to the Holy Land and back and traveled the roads of his native land, following the call of Jesus and the promptings of the Holy Spirit, proclaiming the peaceful reign of God.

Our Tyrolean friend wanted to adventure too, to answer the call of God, and to follow Francis Xavier in going to China. So he became a Jesuit — and the order sent him to the far ends of the earth, but not to China. They sent him the other way round, to the Sonoran Desert. They sent him here.

You know who I mean by now: Eusebio Francisco Kino. Father Kino established a series of mission posts — by simply stopping, preaching, celebrating the Eucharist, and moving on. X marks the spot — all over what is now northern Sonora and southern Arizona, what he called Pimeria Alta — are the spots where he stopped and planted churches.

This all happened before 1711 when he at last dedicated a chapel in Magdalena and then breathed his last, and his bones were laid beside the altar.

He had gone on adventure indeed - and he had answered the call of Christ. It drew him to unexpected places.

That is what the call of Jesus does. Do you think Simon, Andrew, James, and John knew what they were getting into when they left their nets and followed Jesus? No — and yes.

They did not know where he would lead them, or the pain they would suffer, or the glory that awaited. They saw only - only enough: a simple fisher folk by the lake, who put out one more time into deeper water after a night of frustration, on trust, and were shown a miracle.

It was something they could understand - in that it was a lot of fish - but beyond the possibility they knew. What they did know, right then, was not where they were going, or what they would see, but who they were going with. And that was enough — enough to terrify, enough to compel, enough to begin the adventure.

Was it about their worthiness? Was that what qualified them for this all-expense-required trip to the unknown Kingdom? No. What they had was a beginning, the beginning of faith — maybe  starting smaller than the seed of a mustard plant — but it grew as they traveled with Jesus on the way.

Isaiah had said he was a man of unclean lips. Paul saw he was not worthy. Peter called himself a sinful man. But all knew they were in the presence of the Holy - a vision of the Holy One on the throne or a burst of light on the Damascus road or a net full of fish - and they knew something else: they were called, to make the proclamation, to gather in the people, for the Lord was near.

What? No miraculous catch of fish in our life? No burning coal on your lips? No Damascus Road light burst? No, but perhaps God is calling us, you and me and all of us, still to put out once more, even into deep waters, to put our trust in him as they did along that lakeshore far away.

For what happens when we follow God’s call is not up to us, and what we know is not the sonar assurance of a shoal of fish, what we know is that we are with the one we can trust, who reveals to us the presence of God’s glory, in a touch of a healing hand, in a mention of a name in prayer, we are no less than ancient fisher folk invited on an adventure that will carry us — to a place we have never seen, that yet is our home. 

He is the way. He is the truth. He is the life. He is the journey and the destination. The one with us is the one who expects us and welcomes us home.

When I was far from home I went to visit an old friend and told him my reluctant story — that years after seminary I was still despite my uncertainty feeling a desire to pursue ordination — but I did not know if I could or should or what would happen if I tried. And he asked, is it a question of unworthiness?

Unworthiness.

Because that, my friends, as it turns out, is a chief qualification.

Because it means you are developing a proper sense of awe.

And yet you need to know it is not about your worthiness. It is about his glory and his call to you.

From now on leave behind the tangling anxieties that pull you down. For you will be catching - gathering - bringing into the kingdom - the living souls of people.

This is not a gospel message for preachers only, of course, or for times when only religion is on your mind.

In every ordinary thing we do God can be revealed and proclaimed, beyond our arrangement or understanding. Our imaginations are inadequate to the surprise of his revelation.

What I have experienced since that now-distant visit to an old friend is not a straightforward journey, nor a progression of triumphs, but a return again and again, to the faithful presence of the Holy in small things as well as great, in the progress or the plod, plod, plod of weary feet, following the path.

Imagine the far travels of Father Kino across unknown deserts, or the oceans crossed by Francis Xavier, or the humble begging of Saint Francis, or the cruel confrontations faced by Peter, and yet imagine, see, God with them, Christ in them, the hope of Glory - and the promise of faith.

Lord give us nets that do not break - by the Christ of the sea may we be caught in the nets of God - and may we in turn catch others.



You just don’t know what you’re getting into when you follow Jesus, do you? It sounds like a pretty good deal. From now on you will be catching people. Sounds like success. Sounds like prosperity. Sounds like – fame.

Not.

But maybe yes.

We do remember these simple fisher folk, as the hymn calls them.

We remember what happened to them. As we imagine it.

More than that, we remember what they taught us, what they testified to, and their deeds – of spreading the word, and their own mouths’ confessions – are what has built the faith we know.

The abundance, beyond expectation, of catch or harvest, that comes with knowing and following God, is part of the story.

There is another part. What happened to these faithful men? How did it end for them?

Did it end in glory? Not for them, not yet. What they do is follow. What happens to them, what is going to happen to them, what happens to them, now, is not their concern. Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people. (Mark 1:16-20//Matthew 4:18-22)

I have a job for you.

That is what it is about. That is what they know. They do not yet know what the job will require, but they have a pretty good sense of who is calling them to do it. And they go.

Saint Peter to Rome, Saint Mark to Egypt, Saint Thomas to India, Saint John to Patmos.

Those are legendary destinations of some of the simple fisherfolk and their friends. Paul wanted to go to Spain, but ended up in Rome, under arrest and on trial. 

In prison or in the marketplace, these early followers, these messengers, of Jesus’ word, had a story to tell, good news to convey. Whether you expected him or not, the one who will bring peace to you and the world has come. 

It is not peace as the world has known it, not as we might have hoped for or expected. It is not a miraculous transformation – it is the simple peace that comes with following God. It is the marvelous peace that comes before – and after – all else. 

In the hymn “They cast their nets in Galilee” we sing some of this story. The song invites us to ask for nothing less than that marvelous peace of God. And warns us of the cost of discipleship.

We can receive the gift, the marvelous peace of God, that is, the kingdom of heaven, only as a gift. We didn’t deserve it. We don’t own it. It is grace alone. And that is what we live by.

We will not, probably, end up like Peter or John. Although some have. We will probably face, continue to face, the workaday cost of discipleship: prayerfully doing the right thing, in prayer doing the next right thing, the thing we know to be right in the present moment. 

Even seeking to know what that right thing is : guided by the Spirit and by the gifts of the Word, as well as our God-given, Spirit-inspired reason, and in a community, if need be, of discernment. There are large things and small, immediate or long-range, that we do.

In these we follow Jesus. In these, we leave our nets, and follow him on the Way. And in these simple things, we begin to ‘catch’ what it is that it means to be his people. Amen.


The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany. 

Set us free, O God, from the bondage of our sins, and give us the liberty of that abundant life which you have made known to us in your Son our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (BCP collect)

CEpiphany5 2025 Santa Cruz Lutheran Church, Tucson. 9:30am

Prayer of the Day
Most holy God, the earth is filled with your glory, and before you angels and saints stand in awe. Enlarge our vision to see your power at work in the world, and by your grace make us heralds of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen.

First Reading: Isaiah 6:1-8 [9-13]
1 In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty, and the hem of his robe filled the temple. 2 Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. 3 And one called to another and said,
 “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
 the whole earth is full of his glory.”
4 The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. 5 And I said, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
  6 Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. 7 The seraph touched my mouth with it and said, “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” 8 Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!” 

[9 And he said, “Go and say to this people:
 ‘Keep listening, but do not comprehend;
 keep looking, but do not understand.’
 10 Make the mind of this people dull,
  and stop their ears,
  and shut their eyes,
 so that they may not look with their eyes
  and listen with their ears
 and comprehend with their minds
  and turn and be healed.”
 11 Then I said, “How long, O Lord?” And he said,
 “Until cities lie waste
  without inhabitant,
 and houses without people,
  and the land is utterly desolate;
 12 until the Lord sends everyone far away,
  and vast is the emptiness in the midst of the land.
 13 Even if a tenth part remain in it,
  it will be burned again,
 like a terebinth or an oak
  whose stump remains standing
  when it is felled.”
 (The holy seed is its stump.)]

Psalm: Psalm 138
Refrain: I will bow down toward your holy temple. (Ps. 138:2)
 1 I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with | my whole heart;
  before the gods I will | sing your praise.
 2 I will bow down toward your holy temple and praise your name, because of your steadfast | love and faithfulness;
  for you have glorified your name and your word a- | bove all things. R
 3 When I called, you | answered me;
  you increased my | strength within me.
 4 All the rulers of the earth will praise | you, O Lord,
  when they have heard the words | of your mouth.
 5 They will sing of the ways | of the Lord,
  that great is the glory | of the Lord.
 6 The Lord is high, yet cares | for the lowly,
  perceiving the haughty | from afar. R
 7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you | keep me safe;
  you stretch forth your hand against the fury of my enemies; your right | hand shall save me.
 8 You will make good your pur- | pose for me;
  O Lord, your steadfast love endures forever; do not abandon the works | of your hands. R

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 15:1-11
1 Now I want you to understand, brothers and sisters, the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, 2 through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you—unless you have come to believe in vain.
  3 For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures 4 and that he was buried and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures 5 and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. 6 Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. 7 Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. 8 Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. 9 For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. 10 But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I but the grace of God that is with me. 11 Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you believed.

Gospel: Luke 5:1-11
1 Once while Jesus was standing beside the Lake of Gennesaret and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, 2 he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. 3 He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. 4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” 5 Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” 6 When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to burst. 7 So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. 8 But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’s knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” 9 For he and all who were with him were astounded at the catch of fish that they had taken, 10 and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” 11 When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.








Sunday, June 9, 2024

community of kindness


This Sunday’s readings include the passage in the first book of Samuel when people ask the prophet Samuel to ask God for a king like other nations to fight their battles for them; and when Samuel brings this request to the Lord, he’s told to tell them what to expect when they have a human king instead of relying on God is their king. They’re going to find themselves being taxed and required to work for him and have their sons and daughters serving the royal household.… and so the period of the Judges ends and the period of the Kings is about to begin.

There’s a short story in the Old Testament that fits in right at the end of the story of Judges, just before the beginning of the story of the Kings, and it is called Ruth.

Jewish communities chant the story of Ruth as part of the celebration of Shavuot, the wheat harvest festival, which begins, this year, on June 11th. 

Ruth is at the outset a foreign widow, destitute in a time of famine, but by the end of the story, the community is hailing her as a matriarch named in the same breath as the wives of Jacob.

And indeed, in the epilogue to this four chapter story, we see that her grandson becomes the second king of Israel.

What ties these stories together for me is the net importance of loyalty, steadfastness, and kindness, over ethnic or other identity.

Who is my family? Who are my kin? In the gospels, Jesus says whoever serves God is his family. They are those who with me are obedient to an authority higher than any earthly authority. They do justice, love kindness, and care for both friend and stranger.

So here is a brief summary of the story of Ruth:

At a time of famine, a husband and wife set out from Bethlehem across the Jordan Valley to the land east of the Dead Sea called Moab.

This is somewhat unexpected. Moab will probably be sharing in the famine while Nile- watered Egypt probably will not.

But off they go and with them their two sons, who there in Moab find wives.

But tragedy hits the family. The mother of the two sons, Naomi, loses her husband and then her sons so she and her two daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth, are left widows.


She says to the younger women that she plans to return to Bethlehem; however, they should probably stay in their own homeland and find new husbands - and homes - there.

They are probably fairly young as there is no mention that either had had children.

One stays, takes that advice and stays in Moab; the other, however, exhibits an extraordinary character.

Ruth declares to her mother-in-law that she will go with her to Bethlehem and make her mother-in-law’s people her own.

Of course, this is not entirely up to her mother-in-law as the community will have to accept this foreigner, this widow from a foreign land, into their community.

They do, to make the story short. 

When the two women arrive in Bethlehem, Naomi is welcomed home. They arrive at the time of the barley and wheat harvests. To provide for them both, Ruth begins to glean in the fields. She follows the harvesters and picks up the grain that they miss or drop between the sheaves, and brings the food home. 

Her behavior, observed, leads to respect and to love, and she finds herself an honored wife of a new husband, and an honored mother and grandmother of what becomes an important family in the people of ancient Israel.

The virtues she shows, steadfast loyalty, and loving kindness, not race, are what people see, and prove to be more important than any ethnic origin.

And indeed the community to which she has cleaved has shown its virtues of loving kindness in the custom of gleaning, and of respect for the rights of the widow, both part of the Torah law. In addition we see the care for the widow and the stranger in their behavior, led by Boaz, toward the women newly arrived as refugees from across the Jordan Valley. 

To us this story tells us something about how community is formed, in this community which becomes the nation of ancient Israel.

Not everyone who was of the people of God called ancient Israel were descendants of the people who escaped from slavery in Egypt. Some were descendants of the people who were already in the land and some were incorporated from other nations, but all became welcome in the tent of Abraham that is in the household of God that became known as Israel. 

In our own day, our country, like many nations, has a sense of identity, and of common values that bring us together.  As President Obama said in his second inaugural address, “what binds this nation together is not the colors of our skin or the tenets of our faith or the origins of our names.  What makes us exceptional -- what makes us American -- is our allegiance to an idea articulated in a declaration made more than two centuries ago: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.’”  

All of us are created equal. That is our country. We do not claim to be ‘the people of God’ in the way that the ancient Hebrews - or others - did, as we affirm the separation of church and state; that is, the distinct allegiances to country and to the source of all being, the higher power that Christians, among others, affirm as God.

But we can learn from this ancient people. What binds us together, as it was what bound Ruth to her new identity in a nation new to her, is not national origin, race, or ethnic origin. She had not traveled with the newly emancipated from Egypt to the promised land. Her father was not a wandering Aramean. But Ruth became a child of Abraham, and more important was always and already a child of God, because she affirmed and embodied the steadfast loyalty and loving kindness that were core values of the people she became part of: indeed, becoming a matriarch among them.

By the end of the story of Ruth recounted in our Bible she is welcomed not only as friend, but as member, as one in the royal lineage that began with Sarah and Abraham, continuing through Tamar and Perez, Leah and Rachel, and through her beyond to her grandson David - and his heirs.

This is a story that shows identity and inclusion not as a result of surface attributes but from a deeper reality: the embrace of an all-loving God, and its embodiment in a people that seek to reflect that love in their behavior.

All of us are created equal. All of us are loved by God. All of us are called to show it.


June 9th 2024 JRL+

Third Sunday after Pentecost, BProper5 : 

1 Samuel 8:4-11, (12-15), 16-20, (11:14-15)
Psalm 138
2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1
Mark 3:20-35

https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Pentecost/BProp5_RCL.html

https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/2013/01/21/inaugural-address-president-barack-obama

An edited version of this meditation appeared in the Arizona Daily Star on Sunday June 9th 2024, E3.

https://tucson.com/life-entertainment/local/faith-values/choose-loyalty-loving-kindness-above-all-else/article_b891113c-2296-11ef-9e05-cf2d57c0cf91.html

See also the YouTube video of the service for the 3rd Sunday after Pentecost at the Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew in Tucson. Sermon (17:51-30:33). 

https://www.youtube.com/live/qWa5zURvIes?feature=shared

Sunday, July 24, 2022

things eternal and things temporal


St Michael's Church, Coolidge, Arizona

O God, the protector of all who trust in you, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy: Increase and multiply upon us your mercy; that, with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.



 We live in a world without kingdoms, except in abstraction or in faraway places. (Sorry if you are English or Dutch.) In America since 1776 or so we have learned to live without a personal sovereign. The people are sovereign. That is abstract. And we are sorting out what it means.  

This affects us not only as citizens, not just as consumers, but as people of faith. As Christians we hold that there is a king indeed, just one not of this world. And we are sorting out what that means. Since about the year 30.


We have some help with that one. Human beings have been puzzling out their relation with the divine being since time began to pierce our consciousness. 


What does it mean to be under God, and not under an earthly sovereign? How then do we further the coming of a kingdom not like earthly kingdoms? “On earth as it is in heaven” - what does that mean, and how do we play a part in its coming to be?


Bishop Michael Curry refers to the ‘realization of the beloved community’ - this is part of it, and a pressing part of it for Americans. The beloved community as envisioned by thinkers from Josiah Royce to Howard Thurman and by activists from A. J. Must to Martin Luther King, is a community where all belong, together. 


Where the lion lies down with the lamb, so to speak. Where we learn to live with each other in harmony, delighting in our differences and celebrating our commonality. Where intolerance is not tolerated, and love is an active verb.


Specifically right now the Episcopal Church, like so many other church bodies and institutions, is aching through a process of reconciliation, restoration, and perhaps restitution, as it takes upon itself the historical necessity of confronting the past.


Sins of the fathers, yours or mine or not ours at all, are still affecting us. We may say we were not there, we did not come into this church or this society or this world until long after those sins were past, over, long forgiven. 


Or, as it turns out, not so much. 


People are saying, my children will have less freedom than I have had. Not just less money, less of a material future, but less in terms of rights. Freedom, liberty, and justice for all.


We may have had it. Or felt we never did. As individuals or as a part of society that has never felt free.


But now we have that in our face. And how can anyone be free if not all of us are?


It is getting harder to say.


***


Part of how it is hard to imagine kingdom come is that we no longer live surrounded by people who believe it is “in heaven” as we long it to be “on earth”. 


Heaven–what is that? Will it pay the rent–yours? It is possible to live now in a way that takes no account of the presence of God, of the imminence and transcendence of his kingdom. At least for a while.


You can live not as if you have stopped believing but as if you do not know what that is. 


Do we? Do we also, as much as we see ourselves as believers, act as if we do?


Functionally are we in our personal and social lives “living into the kingdom”, that is, living as if Jesus is real, and his kingdom is here at the stretch of our hands?


As it is in heaven - so let it be on earth. 


****



Keeping the Faith: Kingdom in its Fullness


Jesus’ disciple asked, “Teach us to pray.” He responded with the Lord’s Prayer. (Luke 11:2-4) 


What does Jesus tell us to ask for first? What are we to ask for? “Thy kingdom come.” Ask with boldness and persistence for the arrival of the reign of God. This comes first. Then request what we need ourselves, personally and as God’s people. “Everything comes from you” David prays. (1 Chronicles 29:14) For us to take our part in establishing God’s kingdom on earth as in heaven, we need: daily sustenance, for which we are dependent on God; reconciliation, for which we are dependent on God; and to be saved from “the time of trial”, for which we are dependent on God.


Only then can we be built into the eternal temple of praise which is the kingdom of God. When David said, “of thine own have we given thee” (1 Chronicles 29:14) he was offering the first fruits of the harvest, as the people would in the Temple. So his prayer was one of thanksgiving, and one of celebration. 


Of course the “Temple not built with hands” – that is the eternal place of offering – is what Jesus is bringing into daily life. Incarnate in him is the word of God, and making real in the world the kingdom he proclaims is the duty and the invitation he gives his followers: us.


When we pray “thy kingdom come” we are participating in the coming of his kingdom. When we ask for what we need from the one on whom we are dependent for everything, we are saying he is Lord. And when we ask to be forgiven and freed from temptation, we are saying he is Savior.


And we are saying make us instruments of thy peace, thy salvation, thy shalom, thy reign of peace.


In a recent essay on the website of the Episcopal diocese of Arizona, Canon Pam Hyde invites us to rethink dominion - particularly our sense of “dominion over” the rest of creation. Of course this is part of our rethinking what “kingdom come” might look like. Maybe it really is like the “peaceable kingdom” depicted in 19th Century American art, where lion and lamb lie down together and human beings, explorers and indigenous people, alike, are able to find a place for all beings. (Isaiah 11:6-9)


Don’t hold your breath, I hear you say. “What about–?” What about the travesty of settler lifestyles that tear apart the very fabric of the natural world, through mineral extraction and agricultural industrialization? What about the continuing and historic exploitation of one species by another, not to mention one set of people by another?


How are we to live without exerting our dominion, our “power over” others, as if it were by divine right, even divine mandate? Is not this our “manifest destiny” as Americans, indeed, as the human race?


What does it mean to have “dominion over” anything if God is really in charge? Ask Elizabeth II, queen of England: she has had 70 years to think this one over. She may be sovereign, in her realm, but it is only under God, under the blessing, under the mercy, and under obedience.


How do we play faithful to that mercy, how do we conform to that obedience, how do we share that blessing? The blessing that is the coming and immanent kingdom of God, the ‘dominion’ if you will, that is without end as it is indeed without beginning? The truth is, God reigns now. 


If we could only see it. Sometimes it is hard to see. A traffic accident on the freeway, a senseless act of destruction, an unkindness where a helping hand is called for. Cruelty, gratuitous and severe. Capricious catastrophe.


So we ask for the kingdom to come, to become real. In the meantime, the between-time, between the asking and the fulfillment of the prayer, we are the ones who begin to make it real.


We do this in us-sized ways. We do it in small kindnesses, large life choices, common acts in common life, and unseen acts of small mercies.


We ask for the kingdom to come, and then we pray for what we need to live into its reality.


In Paul’s letter to the church in Colossus, we get a picture of a cosmic Christ, one “in whom the fullness of God is pleased to dwell” and one from whom we receive our own “fullness” as his creatures and his people. “For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have come to fullness in him, who is the head of every ruler and authority.” (1:19, 2:9-10)


“Fullness” in Christ means a completion of being, a perfection in direction and in action. We sense moments of fullness already; in him our joy will be made complete. 


So dominion and fullness meet in the presence of the Lord. God is the source of all being, therefore the one in whom all authority finally resides; our ‘dominion’ is partial and contingent. And yet our completion, the fulfillment of our calling and our gift as creatures, is already at work through Christ in us. 


We have the challenge of living into that in-coming and already-here state of being.


How can we possibly do this by ourselves? As individuals, as a church, as a society, as the human race? 


We don’t have to do it alone: for the one who creates us is the one who redeems us is the one who inspires and empowers us. By our side, along with us, God is present in the Spirit, and in each other.


We are not there yet, not yet in the kingdom to come, but we work to make it so, and we long for its arrival. In the grace of God and under the mercy. Amen.



The Rev. Dr. John Leech studied history and religion at the University of California, Santa Cruz. He serves as a priest associate at the Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew in Tucson. This sermon was given at St Michael's Church, Coolidge, Ariz. http://stmichaelscoolidge.com/




Genesis 18:20-32
Psalm 138
Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19)
Luke 11:1-13

Hosea 1:2-10
Psalm 85
Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19)
Luke 11:1-13


https://azdiocese.org/2022/06/rethinking-dominion/

https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.59908.html


Charles Taylor, A Secular Age. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2007.


Wednesday, July 20, 2022

kingdom come

We live in a country without kingdoms, except in abstraction or in faraway places. In America since 1776 or so we have learned to live without a personal sovereign. The people are sovereign. That is abstract. And we are sorting out what it means.  


This affects us not only as citizens, not just as consumers, but as people of faith. As Christians we hold that there is a king indeed, just one not of this world. And we are sorting out what that means. Since about the year 30.


We have some help with that one. Human beings have been puzzling out their relation with the divine being since time began to pierce our consciousness. 


What does it mean to be under God, and not under an earthly sovereign? How then do we further the coming of a kingdom not like earthly kingdoms? “On earth as it is in heaven” - what does that mean, and how do we play a part in its coming to be?


Bishop Michael Curry refers to the ‘realization of the beloved community’ - this is part of it, and a pressing part of it for Americans. The beloved community as envisioned by thinkers from Josiah Royce to Howard Thurman and by activists from A. J. Must to Martin Luther King, is a community where all belong, together. 


Where the lion lies down with the lamb, so to speak. Where we learn to live with each other in harmony, delighting in our differences and celebrating our commonality. Where intolerance is not tolerated, and love is an active verb.


Specifically right now the Episcopal Church, like so many other church bodies and institutions, is aching through a process of reconciliation, restoration, and perhaps restitution, as it takes upon itself the historical necessity of confronting the past.


Sins of the fathers, yours or mine or not ours at all, are still affecting us. We may say we were not there, we did not come into this church or this society or this world until long after those sins were past, over, long forgiven. 


Or, as it turns out, not so much. 


People are saying, my children will have less freedom than I have had. Not just less money, less of a material future, but less in terms of rights. Freedom, liberty, and justice for all.


We may have had it. Or felt we never did. As individuals or as a part of society that has never felt free.


But now we have that in our face. And how can anyone be free if not all of us are?


It is getting harder to say.


***


Part of how it is hard to imagine kingdom come is that we no longer live surrounded by people who believe it is “in heaven” as we long it to be “on earth”. 


Heaven–what is that? Will it pay the rent–yours? It is possible to live now in a way that takes no account of the presence of God, of the imminence and transcendence of his kingdom. At least for a while.


You can live not as if you have stopped believing but as if you do not know what that is. 


Do we? Do we also, as much as we see ourselves as believers, act as if we do?


Functionally are we in our personal and social lives “living into the kingdom”, that is, living as if Jesus is real, and his kingdom is here at the stretch of our hands?


As it is in heaven - so let it be on earth. 


***



Charles Taylor, A Secular Age. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 2007.


Michael Curry. Remarks during the 80th General Convention of The Episcopal Church. 


See also  https://www.episcopalchurch.org/publicaffairs/episcopal-church-presiding-bishop-michael-currys-comments-to-house-of-bishops-on-july-9/


JRL+

Monday, July 11, 2022

Kingdom in its Fullness



Peaceable Kingdom.
Edward Hicks, ca. 1834, public domain.
https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.59908.html


Keeping the Faith: Kingdom in its Fullness


Jesus’ disciple asked, “Teach us to pray.” He responded with the Lord’s Prayer.  


What does Jesus tell us to ask for first? What are we to ask for? “Thy kingdom come.” Ask with boldness and persistence for the arrival of the reign of God. This comes first. Then request what we need ourselves, personally and as God’s people. “Everything comes from you” David prays. (1 Chronicles 29:14) 


For us to take our part in establishing God’s kingdom on earth as in heaven, we need: daily sustenance, for which we are dependent on God; reconciliation, for which we are dependent on God; and to be saved from “the time of trial”, for which we are dependent on God.


Only then can we be built into the eternal temple of praise which is the kingdom of God. When David said, “of thine own have we given thee” (1 Chronicles 29:14) he was offering the first fruits of the harvest, as the people would in the Temple. So his prayer was one of thanksgiving, and one of celebration. 


Of course the “Temple not built with hands” – that is the eternal place of offering – is what Jesus is bringing into daily life. Incarnate in him is the word of God, and making real in the world the kingdom he proclaims is the duty and the invitation he gives his followers: us.


When we pray “thy kingdom come” we are participating in the coming of his kingdom. When we ask for what we need from the one on whom we are dependent for everything, we are saying he is Lord. And when we ask to be forgiven and freed from temptation, we are saying he is Savior.


And we are saying make us instruments of thy peace, thy salvation, thy shalom, thy reign of peace.


In a recent essay on the website of the Episcopal diocese of Arizona, Canon Pam Hyde invites us to rethink dominion - particularly our sense of “dominion over” the rest of creation. Of course this is part of our rethinking what “kingdom come” might look like. 


Maybe it really is like the “peaceable kingdom” depicted in 19th Century American art, where lion and lamb lie down together and human beings, explorers and indigenous people, alike, are able to find a place for all beings. (Isaiah 11:6-9) 


Don’t hold your breath, I hear you say. “What about–?” What about the travesty of settler lifestyles that tear apart the very fabric of the natural world, through mineral extraction and agricultural industrialization? What about the continuing and historic exploitation of one species by another, not to mention one set of people by another?


How are we to live without exerting our dominion, our “power over” others, as if it were by divine right, even divine mandate? Is not this our “manifest destiny” as Americans, indeed, as the human race?


What does it mean to have “dominion over” anything if God is really in charge? Ask Elizabeth II, queen of England: she has had 70 years to think this one over. She may be sovereign, in her realm, but it is only under God, under the blessing, under the mercy, and under obedience.


How do we play faithful to that mercy, how do we conform to that obedience, how do we share that blessing? The blessing that is the coming and immanent kingdom of God, the ‘dominion’ if you will, that is without end as it is indeed without beginning? The truth is, God reigns now. 


If we could only see it. Sometimes it is hard to see. A traffic accident on the freeway, a senseless act of destruction, an unkindness where a helping hand is called for. Cruelty, gratuitous and severe. Capricious catastrophe.


So we ask for the kingdom to come, to become real. In the meantime, the between-time, between the asking and the fulfillment of the prayer, we are the ones who begin to make it real.


We do this in us-sized ways. We do it in small kindnesses, large life choices, common acts in common life, and unseen acts of small mercies.


We ask for the kingdom to come, and then we pray for what we need to live into its reality.


In Paul’s letter to the church in Colossus, we get a picture of a cosmic Christ, one “in whom the fullness of God is pleased to dwell” and one from whom we receive our own “fullness” as his creatures and his people. “For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have come to fullness in him, who is the head of every ruler and authority.” (1:19, 2:9-10)


“Fullness” in Christ means a completion of being, a perfection in direction and in action. We sense moments of fullness already; in him our joy will be made complete. 


So dominion and fullness meet in the presence of the Lord. God is the source of all being, therefore the one in whom all authority finally resides; our ‘dominion’ is partial and contingent. And yet our completion, the fulfillment of our calling and our gift as creatures, is already at work through Christ in us. 


We have the challenge of living into that in-coming and already-here state of being.


How can we possibly do this by ourselves? As individuals, as a church, as a society, as the human race? 


We don’t have to do it alone: for the one who creates us is the one who redeems us is the one who inspires and empowers us. By our side, along with us, God is present in the Spirit, and in each other.


We are not there yet, not yet in the kingdom to come, but we work to make it so, and we long for its arrival. In the grace of God and under the mercy. Amen.



The Rev. Dr. John Leech studied history and religion at the University of California, Santa Cruz. His professional education was through the Graduate Theological Union and Seattle University. He serves as a priest associate at the Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew in Tucson. An edited version of this essay appears in the Keeping the Faith section of the Arizona Daily Star, Sunday July 24th 2022 page E3.


Charles Taylor, A Secular Age. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 2007.


James K. A. Smith, How (Not) to be Secular: Reading Charles Taylor. Grand Rapids MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2014.


David L. Bartlett & Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary. Year C, Volume 3. Louisville KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010.


Joseph A. Fitzmyer, S.J. The Gospel According to Luke X-XXIV. The Anchor Bible, v. 28-28A. New York: Doubleday, 1985.



https://azdiocese.org/2022/06/rethinking-dominion/

https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.59908.html


Charles Taylor, A Secular Age. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2007.