Sunday, May 26, 2019

The Peace that Never Dries Up Easter 6C Trinity, Fredonia


+ “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” These words come toward the end of what is known as Jesus’ Farewell Discourse. We’ve been hearing from this final sermon of Jesus for the past couple of weeks. Within it are a number of iconic statements….including today’s. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.”
Of course, as always with the disciples, they have no idea what he’s talking about.
I get their confusion. After all Jesus is telling them that he’ll be gone, but that he’ll never leave them. He’s telling them that the world won’t know a thing about him…except….until…only if they tell the world. That everything he’s taught them over the course of the past three years will signify absolutely nothing unless and until and only if they, his friends, his followers, his students, his disciples, share what they have experienced with others.
And while Jesus is speaking directly to his disciples in this Gospel, he is, of course, also speaking to us.
He’s telling us that his peace---a peace which surpasses all understanding---is ours. Yours, and mine and everyone’s. Always. And forever.
He’s telling us that he knows our hearts get troubled, that our hearts become afraid …BUT he says, do not worry, for His grace. His love, His peace is ours. That we receive this peace when we do as he has taught us: by reaching out to the other, by searching for the lost, by loving the hated, the despised and the thrown away.
We receive this peace when we live as he lived.
All of this has been given to us, not to horde, not to hide and not to ignore. It’s been given to us to share.
And my goodness, does this world need it.
It’s my prayer and I trust that it’s yours, that we, each and everyone of us, will be strengthened through the fellowship of Christ, emboldened through the nourishment given at this altar, inspired by the worship offered here, to go out into the world and show all those whom we encounter, this peace.
Particularly now . With hatred being spewed across our airways from the left, the right and the middle, with gun violence ripping apart cities, small towns, villages, neighborhoods and families, with an uncertain darkness which seems to pervade our world, resulting in hate-filled attacks against children in school, the faithful gathered for prayer, folks gathered for festivals, marathons or just a night out on the town, the men and women in uniform just trying to do their job.
      The good news is, help is here, help has always been here. Help comes to us through Jesus Christ, who, on the night before his death brought his disciples the same help that is available to us, here and now.
Peace. His peace.
Not the world’s peace. Jesus’ peace is not that. Jesus’ peace is not the stuff of Hallmark cards, or the slogans of politicians, or the platitudes of people pretending to be holy.
No, Jesus’ peace is the shalom of God, where everything is good and right. Where everything is in its place, and where there are no dark corners to shelter evil from the power of God’s pure light. The kind of peace that walks on water, that stills the storm, and fills our jars to the brim with the finest of wines. The kind of peace that brings sight to the blind, restores hearing to the deaf, and tells the lame to get up and walk.
The kind of peace that comes to a tomb and renders it empty.
That kind of peace.
The kind of peace where hearts never need be troubled—because God’s Shalom will prevail. It must. It can. It will. With our help.
In God’s Shalom there is nothing to fear. Nothing.
The kind of peace that bombs and storms and cancer and injustice and terrorists and dissidents and lobbyists and weapons of mass destruction and dark hairy beasts which go bump in the night—where none of those things which usher in the valley of the shadow of death can usher in even an ounce of fear.
Because there is no oxygen for fear to breathe. No room for fear to move. No water for fear to swim in.
Because the peace of Jesus has soaked us to the bone, and NOTHING—- NOTHING —-can dry  it out.
That’s what Jesus brings. To us.
And so let us marvel. Let us savor. And let us make it OUR mission to continue HIS mission, and take this peace—which passes all understanding—to the ends of the earth. And to the inner chambers of our hearts.
For when we do that, God’s kingdom—-the only kingdom that counts—-will reign supreme. Right here and right now. And to that we say,
Amen and Alleluia.

Sunday, May 19, 2019

The profound, risky, empire dismantling love of Jesus. Easter 5C Trinity, Buffalo

Sometimes the simplest readings from our sacred texts are the most difficult to put into practice.
Today’s reading from John is a case in point.
Let me set the stage for this reading:
Jesus is at the end of his life—it is the first Holy Week—-the temple authorities are closing in, Judas has already betrayed him, the wheels are in motion—the shadow of death looms large.
In these final moments with his friends Jesus needs to get his point across, he needs to sum up his teachings, he needs his followers—those then and us now—-to get it.
So he gives  a new commandment, a seemingly simple charge: Love. Love others as I have loved you.
Love everyone because I love everyone. I love Judas. I love Caiphas. I love Pilate. I love the thieves with whom I will be executed. I love you, all of you…those who will scatter and hide, those who will run and deny, those who will disappear and doubt. Those who will join the crowd and scream: Crucify Him!
Love everyone, Jesus says.
Why? ##
Because it’s the only way forward. Jesus knew the only way to change the course of history, the only way to change the world was in and through and by love.
So he gave us this new commandment:
Love everyone. Always. Everywhere. Change the world.
So simple and yet so profound.
So simple and yet so incredibly difficult.
So simple and yet so terrifying.
Loving as Jesus loved isn’t easy, but loving as Jesus loved is so very needed. Then, now, always. ###
Jesus loved his way through all of Judea, into Galilee and down to Jerusalem. He loved his way into the temple, out to the garden, up on the cross and down into the tomb.
And he tells us—-do the same. For when we love we change the world. When we love we change the course of history. When we love we turn darkness into light, evil into good, war into peace and hate into love.
Love everyone. Change the world. ###
My God how our world needs to be changed. The intolerance and hate that swirled about Jesus... the hate and intolerance that nailed Jesus to that cross? It’s alive and well….and thriving…most recently in Alabama most unceasingly in Washington DC. It’s everywhere, marching through every nook and cranny of our world…our country....our region...in every nook and cranny of our lives. Hate. Intolerance. Vitriol. Lies.
The antidote to it all is Love. The profound, risky, empire dismantling love of Jesus.
It is this love that Jesus commands us to live into.  The risky love. The love that ticks off the status quo, the love that topples the patriarchy, the love that demands our children are safe in school, our LGBTQ siblings are safe on the street and our daughter’s bodies are safely under their singular control.
The love that stands up, the love that speaks out and the love that Will. Not. Stop.
My friends, today’s reading from John is simple: Love everyone. Always and Forever.
And my friends, today’s reading from John  is difficult: Love everyone. Always and Forever.
Love is a simple concept and a difficult practice.
And it is our most holy and sacred task.
How do we do it? How do we love those we find unlovable, how do we love those who scare us, how do we love those who infuriate us, how do we love those who have hurt us? We just do it. Because, as Wendell Berry writes in today’s middle reading: “it may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey.”
My friends, I believe we have come to our real work, I believe we have come to our real journey: it is the work of love, the journey of love. I invite us to receive the love God has for us and let it take us exactly where it is we need to go. For when we do that, when we ride the wave of God’s unceasing love, we can change this lost and hurting and increasingly dark world. This work, this journey, this task is ours to take, because if we don’t, who will?
Let us love. Boldly, wildly, fully. Let us love and let us save our world.
Amen.