Maundy Thursday - Christ: The Sacrament of Love

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” – John 12.24

These words come out of the mouth of Jesus while in the temple, after the triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. Some Greeks come to the disciples, expressing their desire to see Jesus. Perhaps, they had heard of his power, how he heals the sick and broken, how he claims to forgive sins. They may even have heard rumors that this Jesus is possibly the messiah, the promised king who would restore Israel and gather together God’s dispersed people. They are curious and they are attracted to his spiraling celebrity. In a similar way, later we learn that Herod wants to see Jesus so that he can see one of his miracles. The crowds are curious and, like a moth to a flame, are attracted by his fame.

We behave much the same way if we see a famous person, say, your favorite actor. I wonder what she is really like in person, you ask yourself? Should I say something to her, or should I pretend not to recognize her and just coolly say hello? And what would really impress us is if she behaved towards us as if we were friends. And then asked us what our favorite movie is in which she appeared, and obliged us with an impersonation of the character. In other words, we would love it if she would indulge our curiosity and glory in her fame. The same thing could be said if we saw an admired statesman, say Ronald Reagan. Except we might wish that he would give us some display of his superior eloquence and political power.

Jesus, of course, rejects the trappings of fame and the hunger of popular curiosity. In a way, he rejected these when he would not worship Satan, to gain all the kingdoms of the earth, when he would not cast himself off the pinnacle of the temple—a public religious house—thereby proving that he is God’s Son. He would not feed our hunger for miracles by turning stones into bread, and for the same reason, he tells many of those he heals not to spread what he has done. He rejects our curiosity and attraction to his fame. Why? Well, not for the usual reason that he wants to maintain his privacy. Rather, Jesus rejects human curiosity, the power of fame, the power of might, in order to proclaim something so fundamental that it is like the very air we breathe: He comes to proclaim love.

The disciples of Jesus approach him to arrange a meeting between the curious crowds and our Lord, and this is what he tells them, “The hour is come, that the Son of man should be glorified. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” This temptation to embrace fame and power is just like the ones he had at the beginning of his ministry. Jesus will not oblige them in the way they wish because now is the time for him to be the seed that falls into the ground and dies. It is self-evident that the seed that does not die abides alone. How many interviews with celebrities evince the fact that even with the acquisition of fame and wealth, happiness and abiding love can remain elusive? How many great and powerful leaders have died having wealth and power but essentially alone? And their great empires soon turned to dust.

In the northern frontier of the eastern European country of Ukraine, there is a city by the name of Pripyat. It is a city like many others: there are streets and schools, homes and civic buildings, apartment buildings and even a ferris wheel. Only this city is not like other cities, for no one lives there. And even though the skyline is filled with modestly tall apartment buildings, not one is inhabited, and in fact, in the spring, streams of water run through many of the buildings. The other striking feature of the skyline is the amount of green that meets the eye. Abundant poplars fill out much of the space between the decaying buildings, their long, narrow shape bulging out of concrete parking lots and asphalt streets. Pripyat is the city of 50,000 that was evacuated permanently on April 27, 1986, a day after the Chernobyl accident in which an explosion at a nuclear plant sent a huge cloud of radioactive material into the atmosphere. Although the decaying city of Pripyat may have something to say about the wisdom of utilizing nuclear power, it has a much more important and powerful message: the things of this world fade, deteriorate, and die; even things that appear to have great permanency can have that permanency threatened in a day; most things that are thought of as permanent have a permanence that is illusory. Furthermore, fame and power are transitory; crowds are fickle and merciless, and power wanes, sometimes without explanation. But love alone abides. Love cannot be stolen. It cannot be corrupted by decay. True love is that which is freely given without any expectation of reward or reciprocation. This is the love that a mother gives when she puts her child’s needs and wants before her own. This is the love that Christians are commanded to give one another; they are told: seek not your own good but the good of others. This is the love that Jesus freely gave to us when, though he was rich, he became poor, taking our broken human nature upon himself, and, though not obliged to do so, declaring himself to be one of the family, our elder brother. This is the love Jesus gave when he offered up his life on the cross, as the one perfect, eternal sacrifice for sins and not for ours only but for sins of the whole world.

On this night, we gather to remember the last supper of our Lord Jesus before his arrest, and to remember that on this night he instituted the simple meal of bread and wine that is a feast of love. It is interesting that in John’s Gospel the institution of the Lord’s supper is not recorded, as in the other three Gospels. Instead, on that night, John records our Lord’s washing of the disciples’ feet, an act of service that symbolizes what Jesus will do for them on the cross in less than 24 hours. But John does not fail to mention this all important meal. You see, in John’s Gospel, the Last Supper, the institution of Holy Communion actually occurs on Calvary. Jesus says before his arrest, “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” He is the grain of wheat, that does die, that gives his life freely. And as he pours out his life on Calvary, this single seed of wheat—this single seed of love—bears a great crop of wheat. The wheat engendered by his death is the bread that we eat in this Sacrament of Holy Communion. As he dies on Calvary, Christ is the true sacrament of love. He is the sacrament that we receive and commemorate every time we gather at this, His table, to be nourished once again by Him and to eat of this wheat, his flesh, given for us and for the life of the world. “Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”

Bible in 90 Days Schedule (Revised)

History

The Bible in 90 Days is a reading schedule developed by Ted Cooper, who after purchasing a Bible (Zondervan NIV, Large Print, Thin Line Bible) realized that by reading 12 pages a day he could read the Bible from cover to cover in 90 days. Actually the exact figure is 88 days with two "grace" days. Zondervan now conveniently prints NIV, Large Print, Thin Line Bibles just for this program. The only difference from the Bible Ted Cooper purchased are headings every twelve pages, "End Day 8","Begin Day 9".

Personal History

In my church I am currently leading a group of people reading the Bible in 90 days with this program. We are doing it partially as a Lenten devotion, although we had to start a number of weeks before Ash Wednesday in order to finish during Holy Week. This is the second year I've used this particular schedule. I didn't feel I could ask others to use it, if I had not done it myself and could say with certainty that it is achievable. In fact, as a fairly average reader with respect to speed, I only have to read from 40-60 minutes per day. It is difficult to tell, but I think about fifty people are reading the Bible on this schedule.

The Problems

There are two major problems with the schedule for the Bible in 90 Days as it stands, and they both are a result of being tied to a particular printing of the Bible. The first problem is that exactly 12 pages are appointed for each day. While this rigid regularity perhaps has some merit, it results in very illogical breaks in the text. I couldn't help noticing the first time I used this schedule, that with minor changes--a subtraction or addition of a page on a particular day--could make the breaks in the schedule much more natural, leading ultimately to greater comprehension. A perusal of the original schedule will evidence its inadequacies in this regard. A particularly egregious example is day 53. The schedule breaks at Isaiah 66:19, four verses before the end of the book! Another example is day 38, when the book of Job, which has been read for three days could be concluded but instead ends at the second to last chapter, leaving the brief forty-second chapter for the following day. Days 79, 80 and 81 are also alarming. In that case, the last half chapter of Acts is read on the same day with most (but not all of Romans). By merely lengthening the reading on Day 79, the reader could on days 80 and 81 read Romans and 1 Corinthians in one sitting, an exercise that, I think, commends itself.

A second and perhaps more serious problem is in the way modern Bibles type-set Hebrew poetry. The trend since the Revised Standard Version (1952) has been to set Hebrew poetry in English stanza form. A look at a modern printing of the Psalms, for example, shows how much white space is on a page, compared with say a page from the book of Genesis. The result of this additional white space is that on the days when poetry is largely or exclusively read--all the poetic books and much of the prophets--far fewer words are read than in other narrative portions of Scripture. A survey of the word count of the readings in Genesis and Psalms showed a average difference of 3000 words. While the original schedule divides the Bible into 90 pieces (88 to be exact), they are far from equal, despite all being twelve pages.

A Proposed Solution
I think it makes greater logical sense to develop a schedule that is not tied to a particular printing of the Bible. This also frees the reader to use any Bible, of any translation, he may own. An old King James Bible is ideal to calculate 88 equal pieces because the type is set consistently throughout the Bible (each new verse begins a new paragraph). By using this Bible, my hope was to close the gap between the word count on days in narrative portions of Scripture versus days in poetic portions. A survey has shown that the schedule below does close this gap considerably. Of course, I did not simply want to find out a word count for the entire Bible and divide that by 88 so there is still some fluctuation.

The schedule, in fact, is not rigidly tied to an exact number of pages which frees it to break in much more natural places. In the revised schedule, one will notice the readings always break at a chapter and a number of times on a book. On Day 50, Ecclesiastes and Song of Solomon are read in their entirety. In the subsequent four days, the book of Isaiah is read. In the New Testament, on Days 78-80 the book of Acts is read, followed by the entirety of Romans on Day 81. All this is accomplished by merely reading one or sometimes two pages more or less on any given day.

I hope this schedule may be useful to the reader of God's Word. Whatever schedule is used, one will be blessed in reading the Bible and hearing again the message of God's saving acts in history. Please feel free to email me if any would like Word or Excel files of the schedule for better printing.

Sexagesima Sunday Sermon

[24] Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. [25] And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible. [26] I therefore so run, not as uncertainly; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air: [27] But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.

- 1 Corinthians 9:24-27

[40] And there came a leper to him, beseeching him, and kneeling down to him, and saying unto him, If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. [41] And Jesus, moved with compassion, put forth his hand, and touched him, and saith unto him, I will; be thou clean. [42] And as soon as he had spoken, immediately the leprosy departed from him, and he was cleansed. [43] And he straitly charged him, and forthwith sent him away; [44] And saith unto him, See thou say nothing to any man: but go thy way, shew thyself to the priest, and offer for thy cleansing those things which Moses commanded, for a testimony unto them. [45] But he went out, and began to publish it much, and to blaze abroad the matter, insomuch that Jesus could no more openly enter into the city, but was without in desert places: and they came to him from every quarter.

- Mark 1:40-45

How do we know God’s character? How do we know, for example, that God is love and not a malevolent and mischievous deity, as the jaded Mark Twain thought at the end of his life? According to Christianity, we know God and his character by his self-revelation, what he tells us about himself. A facebook profile for an individual is full of details, nuances about favorite books, movies; habits, likes and dislikes. God represents himself much more succinctly; it is not a set of words that he uses to reveal himself, but a single Word, the man Jesus. The Gospel of John calls Jesus the Word of God, and for those in the first audience of this Gospel who were Greek and had a secular education, they would have connected this idea of the Word of God with Greek philosophy; But for the Jewish audience, the Word of God would evoke the words of the prophets, who received the Word of the Lord. The prophets were the vehicles through which God revealed himself to his people Israel. But the final prophet, the Word himself, comes to reveal God definitively, for all times and all places. Jesus is the Word of God—God’s self-revelation—not simply on account of the words he has to say, although this is obviously an important part of his message. He is also the Word of God in his actions, in how he relates to the people of his own time. This is very well illustrated in the Gospel lesson today.

In the account, a leper approaches Jesus asking to be cleansed. Now leprosy in the Old and New Testaments was probably different than the leprosy with which we are familiar. The leprosy we know causes extreme lacerations to the skin; fingers and toes can fall off, and death is not an uncommon end. The leprosy of the Bible appears to consist of relatively mild skin lacerations, which by comparison do not sound too severe; however, according to Old Testament law, someone with this type of leprosy was prohibited from living within the walls of a city or from entering the temple. In the language of the Pentateuch, a leper is unclean; he cannot worship in the temple; he cannot be touched without making the one who touches him unclean and therefore, at least for a time, unable to enter the temple. It is likely that in the parable of the good Samaritan, the priest and Levite pass by the bleeding and beaten man because touching him would have made them unclean and therefore unable to fulfill their formal religious duties. A leper or any person who remained unclean for a long period—like the woman with the issue of blood—would have felt cut off from society and cut off from God.

Notice the reaction of Jesus to this leper: “Jesus, moved with compassion, put forth his hand, and touched him.” Jesus is moved with compassion; God is not simply aloof and detached from the trials and troubles of humanity. What Jesus reveals about God is that God is moved to pity by the sufferings of individuals. But this pity is not simply the pity of abstract good will towards the less fortunate. Jesus has pity and his pity moves him to identify with the leper, to share in a small way in his affliction. By touching the leper, our Lord himself becomes ritually unclean. This is precisely the point of the incarnation, God the Son, identifies with the plight of man—his bondage to sin and death; he takes this plight upon himself and shares, as a brother, in our afflictions.

To the leper’s declaration—“ If thou wilt, thou canst make me clean”—Jesus says, “I will; be thou clean.” Jesus has compassion on the leper, he identifies with him by touching him, and finally, by his power, he makes the leper clean, restoring him to society and, in a very tangible sense, to God, by making him fit to enter the temple. Amongst our peers we are very accustomed to hearing ‘I will not’ to our requests. Part of the process of growing up seems to be accepting that we will encounter these disappoints, these rejections, all the time. But the word of Jesus is different. To the leper, he is a yes that negates all the no’s that society and established religion had issued to him.

Listen to what a Jewish scholar has to say about this incident from the Gospel: “Here we begin to catch the new note in the ministry of Jesus; his intense compassion for the outcast, the sufferer, who by his sin or by his suffering, which was too often regarded as the result of sin, had put himself outside respectable Jewish society, who found himself rejected and despised by men, and believed himself rejected and despised by God. Here was a new and lofty note, a new and exquisite manifestation of the very pity and love which the prophets had demanded” (quote by Sir Moses Haim Montefiore from Branscomb, The Gospel of Mark, p. 38). The fact is to a degree we all are lepers and outcasts. Even the most popular teenager, if he were honest, would say that he felt, at least to a degree, like an outsider. The only difference between people really are those who know that they are outcasts and those who all their lives have tried to deny and hide this reality, by conforming themselves in such a way that they will be accepted. Once we can identify ourselves as outcasts, then we are ready to hear the word of Jesus to us: “I will; I will, be thou clean.” We can hear the invitation of Jesus: “Join me in the fellowship of God; join me in the community, the family of my people.” What freedom is to be found, when we can hear this “I will” as spoken to each of us as individuals. There is no longer any need to make ourselves clean: touchable by our fellow men and able to enter into the temple and the fellowship of God; we have been made clean by this word of Jesus, “I will.” To put it in its simplest terms, this “I will” means that we have a home and family: our home is fellowship with God, our family those who share in this fellowship. The very longing of the human heart is for home and for family, and we have it, freely given, in our Lord Jesus and his word of “I will”. This is the freedom of a Christian, and you can see how it runs counter to the movement of individuals in society who are striving to be accepted by God and by their fellow-man.

From this standpoint of freedom, we can enter the sanctified life of a Christian. For example, as Christians—those who follow in the teachings and example of Jesus—we ought to have a particular compassion and love for the rejects and forgotten—the lepers—of our society. Those who their whole life have heard “I will not” are to hear the voice of Jesus, “I will”, through our lips. Paul writes of this sanctified life in the Epistle lesson today. From the standpoint of knowing ourselves as those freely accepted and made clean by Jesus, we can know our final destination. In a series of sports metaphors, Paul compares the Christian life to a race and a boxing match. It would be to misunderstand the lesson, if we heard it saying that we just need to try a little harder or that the Christian life is about competing with other Christians. The first point to be made about this passage is that it reminds us that we are indeed in a race. Most people do not even realize this; they live as if life were a dress rehearsal. The second point is that we need to run the race knowing the destination; you don’t want to run backwards around the track or off the track altogether. In the same way, we need to hit our opponent, not simply punch the air in futility. If you knew you were going to run a marathon tomorrow or fight a boxing match, there would be certain things you would do today: you wouldn’t eat this, you’d train, you’d go to bed early; in the same way knowing we have a race to run and a destination means we will consequently live in a certain way. Now, all this is true because we see it modeled and fulfilled in Jesus. He has already run the race set before him and gone on to glory where he sits at the right hand of God. We hear the word of Jesus, “I will” and we are set to the destination to which he has already led the way. The Swiss theologian, Karl Barth, describes this reality beautifully, when he writes in his Church Dogmatics, “What the Holy Spirit positively wills and effects. . . is always a human existence that deserves to be called a life to the extent that it is lived in the light of the royal man Jesus, in an attentiveness and movement to Him, because the Christian who receives and has the Holy Spirit recognizes and acknowledges that this man [Jesus] died for him and has risen again for him, that [Jesus] lives for him, that [Jesus] is the Owner and Bearer, the Representative and Lord of his life, and that in [the] exaltation [of Jesus] he too is exalted and set in a living fellowship with God” (Barth, CD IV.2, p.375). If the day has never come for you, may today be the day you hear Jesus word of acceptance and healing, “I will, be thou clean”, and in hearing this word may know that our true and final home is in God.

Bow Back Windsor Chair

For my 30th birthday, B sent me on a trip to make a chair with the man I call my wood-working mentor, although wood-working is really just a metaphor for life. In five days, I basically finished making this chair. Many happy hours--and a few frustrated ones too--were logged in that dank and cold basement, with the strains of Mozart and Bach as a suitable soundtrack. B definitely qualifies for wife of the year--nearly seven days alone with two small children!

Here are some thoughts about why I love wood-working. For one, wood-working requires undivided attention. There is no room for anxiety of any kind. To employ an over-used but true cliche, you are living in the moment, not slavishly looking at a clock every 10 minutes. B can tell about how I go out to my shop to do some wood turning only completely to lose track of time, wandering in at 10:30 or 11:00 with shavings hanging from my beard. I also love wood-working strangely because it involves compromise: one has an ideal of the project in mind, but there are always imperfections, known most acutely by the maker. Accepting these imperfections is part of the process of completing a chair. Without my mentor present, many steps in the project would not have been completed through worrying about imperfections. This is wonderful medicine for my exacting--mostly unrealistic--standards. To be able to say 'it is good enough' is thrilling, and one of those life lessons I am still trying to learn.

Epiphany Sermon

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born. And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judaea: for thus it is written by the prophet, And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda: for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel. Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, inquired of them diligently what time the star appeared. And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also. When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. And being warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way.

- St. Matthew 2:1-12

It has frequently been asserted that one of Anglican’s distinctive features is an emphasis on the incarnation, the Word becoming flesh in the man Jesus. This emphasis is set in opposition to other churches and denominations that emphasize the cross. Because Anglicanism emphasizes the incarnation, it is stated, it is more comfortable with the material world and the joys of the body. The problem with this assertion is that it puts the incarnation somehow in tension with the cross and resurrection of our Lord. If we direct our eyes to that manger scene what do we see? The Creator of the world has been born of a woman; the Lord of all history and time has entered into time; the Word by whom all things were made is speechless, the Word is wordless; the One who opens his hand and fills all things living with plenteousness, has to be fed by his mother. “He did not account equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself of no reputation, and took upon himself the form of a servant.” The incarnation affirms the paradox of divine humility. If we were to write the script on God becoming one of his creatures, we would likely write him into royalty, riches, and fame, as we think befits God; instead, the Lord appears in a stable with a manger for a crib; born into the poverty of the working class; born under the infamy of a mother who conceived while unwed. What is the purpose of this divine humility? If a man is drowning and you are standing on the shore, there is little chance your exhortations for the man to exert himself or your tossing him a buoy, will result in the man saving himself—sooner or later you have to get in the water to pull him to shore. The only salve for human pride which has cast us down is divine humility—Jesus getting into the water, if you will. When we think of the incarnation in this way, it is impossible not to see the cross as the flowering of this divine humility. On the cross, this God-man, though innocent, takes upon himself the punishment and guilt of all humanity. The cross is the supreme manifestation of the divine humility that was evident to the eyes of faith there in Bethlehem in that manger. One might say that the cross was latent and foreshadowed in the incarnation.

In the same way, today, as we celebrate the Epiphany, we could say that the inclusion of the Gentiles—non-Jews—in God’s people is latent and foreshadowed in the coming of the wise men who were Gentiles to worship the new born king. Epiphany is a Greek word that means simply manifestation. The feast of the Epiphany comes at the conclusion of the twelve days of Christmas. And on this day in particular, we celebrate the manifestation of Jesus to the wise men as the new born king, and in this season generally we celebrate the manifestation of Jesus as both divine and human, recollecting his baptism, miracles of healing & forgiveness and his transfiguration.

On Christmas Day it was the Jewish shepherds who received the message of the angels about the new born messiah. On Epiphany it is the Gentile magi who follow a star to this same new born king. This order of first Jews and then Gentiles is reminiscent of what Paul writes in Romans: “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ; for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile.” The feast of the Epiphany is the good news for you and me as Gentiles that this salvation is “also to the Gentile.”

Matthew is the only Gospel to recount the coming of the wise men or magi. The word magi in fact does not occur in the King James Bible; magi is the Latin word used in the Vulgate—the Bible of the middle ages—to translate the ‘wise men’ of the King James Bible. The word magi highlights their pagan background better than wise men because they were essentially magicians and astrologers. Pious exegetes have sometimes argued that the magi knew the biblical book of Daniel—the historic Daniel lived in Babylon—and that the wise men divined the advent of the Messiah from the prophecies of that book. Interesting but there is no support for the idea in Matthew’s narrative. Rather, the star or light in the sky is a miraculous sign whose meaning God reveals to the wise men. No doubt their traditional wisdom played a part in how God revealed the sign to them.

The wise men stop in Jerusalem to ascertain the exact location of the foretold birth of the Messiah. The reaction of the people—or rather their entire lack of reaction—is a startling portrait of stale orthodoxy. The chief priests and scribes know chapter and verse the prophecies concerning the Messiah, but they are not moved to ascertain the truth of the wise men’s claim. Perhaps they took one glance at the wise men—their unusual dress, their foreign manners, their vocation as astrologers—and wrote them off as pagans, those outside of God’s covenant. It’s pretty hard to identify with this disposition. We never write others off who fall too far afield of our religious and social sensibilities. May I remind you that the true Christian disposition is to recognize that Jesus is the representative and sacrifice for all humanity; in the world of men there are only two types: those who know that Jesus is their elder brother and savior and those who do not yet know this. All therefore are our sisters and brothers, and we do have the prerogative to treat others as outsiders to the family.

If this is the reaction of stale orthodoxy, the reaction of Herod also contains an important lesson. Herod is the paragon of insecurity. Here is a man who is governor under the Roman Empire, the most powerful, stable, and peaceful of any ancient empire, and here he is frightened by the news of the birth of a king. A king fears a baby, a lion a mouse. As we know from experience and observation, those in authority seek to assert their authority when they fear something, real or imagined. The only lasting security for one is authority is to see oneself as one also under authority. The ruler who acknowledges God’s rule, knowing himself to be accountable to God, will act very differently than the one who sees himself as essentially a god, answerable to no one and nothing.

Following the star, the wise men proceed to Bethlehem where they find Joseph and Mary and Jesus. And, what do they do? They “fell down and worshipped him. And when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” Notice the different aspects of their worship. First, it was corporal; they worshipped Jesus with an outward expression of their body by bowing down. Second, I think we can safely assume it was heartfelt—one does not travel great distances, intentionally seeking someone or something, without experiencing some emotion at the sight of the one sought. Third, their worship was material and sacrificial. The wise men were not those who merely praised with their lips and not with their lives. They gave expensive gifts of gold, frankincense—a rare resin used for incense—and myrrh, also a resin used for incense and also for embalming. Consonant with what I said earlier, some have suggested that the gift of myrrh foreshadows Jesus’ death and burial; the cross is latent in the epiphany. Fourth and finally, in their worship of Jesus, the magi recognized who Jesus truly is: the king of Israel, the messiah for all people. Although to the eyes of the body, Jesus was only a little child, through the eyes of faith the magi knew Jesus for who he truly is. Theirs is a model for our worship; ours must be corporal—with sacraments and movements of the body, like kneeling and making the sign of the cross; our worship must be heartfelt—going through the motions simply is not enough; our worship must be material and sacrificial—we give to the church and to the poor not just what we can afford to give; our worship must recognize Jesus for who he truly is: the Christ, the son of the living God.

The magi are an excellent object lesson for us. Before the appearing of the star, the magi were thoroughly indoctrinated in their practice of astrology and accompanying superstitions. But God called them, where they were at, and led them to his Son Jesus. It is easy for us to think that when we get our lives in order, then we will commit our lives to God, once we reach a certain point. We think, we have got to make a certain amount of progress on our own before we can be good enough for God and the church. The truth is God calls us wherever we are at; he commands us to cast our treasures at his feet, the only place where those treasures will ever be secure and lasting. He calls us astrologers in Babylon, he calls us fisherman on shore of sea of Galilee, he calls us tax collectors at the receipt of custom. He calls us in the midst of our vocation, our troubled family situation, our addiction, to come to him and worship. O come, let us adore him, o come, let us adore him, o come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord.

The Spirit of Christ

[9] But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his. [10] And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness. [11] But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you. [12] Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh. [13] For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. [14] For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. [15] For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. [16] The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: [17] And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. - Romans 8:9-17

A popular caricature of Christianity is that it is a religion that despises the body and the pleasures of this world for a promised, idyllic world-to-come. It has often being accused of being too other worldly and heavenly minded. A superficial reading of the epistle lesson could suggest that the Bible in fact supports this view of the body and the material world being bad and the spiritual realm and soul being good. Paul writes about the flesh saying that if we live according to the flesh we shall die, but that through the Spirit we shall live. In fact, one might even think that the way to live into what Paul is saying is to become more spiritual: perhaps go to a few seminars or retreats on how to be more spiritual and less corporal. But, my friends, this is not at all what Paul is suggesting--in fact, he is saying just the opposite: we need to become less "spiritual" and less "religious" according to the common use of these words. It is spirituality and religion that make us think that we are making some progress towards God, that we are attaining spiritual summits never before traversed. The reality is in some ways much more stark but much more wonderful and glorious

Let's examine the lesson more closely. Firstly, the word 'flesh' as used by Paul can be highly misleading. He does not mean bodily. Rather, when he speaks of the flesh he means man, both body and soul, in his fallen condition. Hence, he writes in his Epistle to the Galatians that the works of the flesh are "adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, contentions, jealousies, outbursts of wrath, selfish ambitions, dissensions, heresies, envy, murders, drunkenness, [and] revelries" (Galatians 5.19-21 NKJV). Notice, how some of the things listed relate to the body but the ultimate source of all of them is in the will and the mind. Note also how, if we are honest, we are guilty of one or more of these works of the flesh. It should make us shudder then to see what Paul writes next "of which I tell you beforehand, just as I also told you in time past, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God" (Galatians 5.21). Like the response of the incredulous disciples to a particularly hard saying of Jesus, our question to Paul will likely be "who then can be saved?"

The answer is found, in part, in our epistle lesson. The opening verse reads "ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit", that is, you have left behind the fallen state of man and are being renewed by the Holy Spirit. Now, how is this true? The key is to notice how the Spirit is identified in the second part of that opening verse. He--not it--is called the Spirit of Christ. Not the spirit of spirituality or the human spirit, the Spirit of Christ: the Spirit who leads and points to the living Christ. Spirituality that does not point to Christ is not of the Holy Spirit. Leadings of the Spirit that do not lead to Christ, are not of the Holy Spirit. Rather, the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, makes us to be like Christ. Our union with him and resulting transformation is how Paul can write that we are not in the flesh but in the Spirit.

What does it mean for the Spirit of Christ to make us like Christ? It means first of all that in the flesh—as sinful, fallen humans—we are dead. Christ came in the flesh and by his life of service and obedience, he revealed us to be the sinners that we are, and then, he died for these same sinners. It means that as sinners there is no place for us to stand, either to boast about our good works or even our bad works. I'm sure you've heard 'testimonies' where a person who has had a radical conversion experience gets up only to brag about all the bad things he formerly did. Before that person even had an inkling to sin, Christ died for him. It means that the endless attempts at justifying ourselves, proving ourselves to be right both in relation to others and in relation to God has come to a definitive end. Self-justification is like the punishment of Sisyphus who in Greek mythology is condemned to roll a boulder uphill, only to have it, of course, continually roll downhill. The reality of sin is like that rock, but yet, we go on trying to cloak and justify our sins, figuratively pushing that rock uphill. The one sacrifice for sins that Christ made frees Sisyphus from his endless burden.

What we witness in Jesus Christ is God's unequivocal 'no' to human sin and pride. So, the bad news is that the old Man--the flesh--must and has in fact died. But the Good news is that the New Man--the man renewed by the Spirit--has been firmly established in Christ. In Christ, God has spoken a definitive Yes to man, freely justifying us sinners by his grace, and making a new humanity through the resurrection of Jesus. The Holy Spirit makes us like Christ in his death, yes, but also in his resurrection; verse 10, "if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you." This New Man has not done anything to justify himself. He has not cooperated with God or advanced in God's service; but rather Christ has firmly established his foundation, and he is the prototype of this new Man. On account of these things Paul can write these bold words earlier in Romans: "we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ" (5:1). We cannot make our peace with God; it has already been done on our behalf in Christ.

So, the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, makes us like Christ in his death--we die in him--and like Christ in his resurrection--we rise with him to new life and are freed from the guilt and burden of sin, but the Spirit also makes us like Christ in his sonship; verse 14: "For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God." Sons, not to exclude women or suggest that women be transformed into men, but that we, both men and women, are given the status of the Eternal Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ.

The true Gospel of the Lord Jesus is so powerful and has implications for every area of human life. If we believe that we freely justified by Christ, then nothing--no person, no thing, no event--is grounds for fear or anxiety. This is the point of the later part of this chapter, but Paul hints at this theme in verse 15: "For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father." Abba is the familiar form of address for father in Aramaic. Some scholars have suggested it is equivalent to the term of endearment 'daddy'. The point is clear: we who were alienated from God by our sins, are now children of God, adopted brothers and sisters of our Lord Jesus, a new humanity God is gathering together in Christ. Imagine if rebels against the state, insurrectionists of the most violent type were declared to be forgiven and adopted by the King as heirs along with the King's son. This is precisely our position according to Paul in the final verses of our passage.

What will a Father not do for his children? This is a question to ponder. If it is true that we are God's children, what enemy could damn or curse us with any gravity? We are fed in body and mind from the table of God's abundance even in the presence of our enemies. If it is true, what adversity or trial could we face where we could legitimately fear the permanent loss of any good thing? Our Father shepherds and guides us through all of life's difficulties. If this is true, that we are God's children, who could declare us to be unlovable with any authority? We are wholly loved by Him who is called Love; and his is a love that does not alter or fade, but is steadfast even in the valley of the shadow of death. “For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ.”

Advent Sermon

Now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.
-Romans 13.11-12

I'd like to start off my remarks today with a question: do you think you need to be saved? Do you honestly and sincerely believe that you need help for your life to endure? The long season of Pentecost has drawn to a close, and the start of Advent puts the necessity of salvation before us. "The night is far spent, the day is at hand," as the Epistle poetically describes this reality. Now what is salvation? And what is it from which we need to be saved? The Prayer Book identifies our enemies as 'the world, the flesh, and the devil', as we just heard in the Litany. The world is that part of human society that is in rebellion to God's gracious rule, ranging from the mammoth pornography industry to the abuse of ethnic minorities to the persecution of Christians in Africa and the Middle East. The World would have us capitulate to its standards, its ideas and its way of looking at itself and human beings. The historic doctrine of the devil is that he is a fallen angel. He and his angels are also in opposition to God's rule, and although we may as materialists be prone to question the existence of the devil, the chaos and evil in the world should give one pause: Think of the number of innocents murdered in the 20th century, a century of technological progress and human achievement. When we think about this and other evils, it is not difficult to believe that there are forces of spiritual evil in the world that seek to destroy God's good creation. Finally, the flesh. The prayer book doesn't simply mean the body. It means that part of the human person that wrestles with itself: You know the good you ought to do, but you give in to the opposite instead;That part of us that tempts us to subject our ideals and morals to our selfish desires is what the Bible and the prayer book in turn calls the flesh. It shouldn't surprise us that we our own enemy sometimes. Suicide is the trap door out of which one may exit life, but lots of other decisions one can make may not cause immediate death but do cause eventual death. These latter types of decisions blossom in addictions, divorces, and all kinds of figurative crashes, the inevitable fruit of which is an acute sense of alienation from God and others. The Bible put this stark reality in this way: "The wages of sin is death." Sometimes immediate death, sometimes eventual death.
The world, the flesh, the devil. These are that from which we need saving. Our prayer book emphasizes life as a battle in which we are under attack from these enemies. That is why there are two invariable collects or prayers for peace in both Morning and Evening Prayer. In these collects, one is not simply praying for the security of the state, since peace often merely denotes the absence of war. Rather, the peace we ask God to give us, the peace we want for our lives is security from the world, the forces of spiritual evil and from ourselves.
Now one of the problems of progressive theology is that it does not adequately account for the human need for salvation. The existence of the devil is usually denied and explained as merely a facet of human psychology. A theologically progressive church informed first most by the standards and mores of the World decreasing looks like the Christian church and more like a social action committee or even worse, a dying fraternal organization. Progressive theology tends to minimize the reality and costliness of sin--the flesh--and speaks of sin as denying the image of God in ourselves and others. Reinhold Niebuhr, a 20th century Protestant theologian, was formed in the mold of this type of theology, but through his pastoral work in Detroit he come to the conclusion that progressive theology held a naive view of sin and was overly optimistic about the effectiveness of social action. Concerning progressive theology, Niebuhr wrote, "A God without wrath, brought men without sin, into a kingdom without judgment, through the ministrations of a Christ without a cross." If we are honest with ourselves, the human situation without God is far more stark. We are in a battle which we cannot win without God's help and we need deliverance from the world, the flesh and the devil.
The other day I was listening to Mahalia Jackson singing "Didn't it rain," a song about how it rained for forty days and forty nights while Noah and his family were inside the ark. Brothers and sisters, today, it is raining too. As we approach the darkest day of the year, we are reminded in this season of Advent of our need for a salvation and a Savior. Will you be like those in the day of Noah did not see the coming storm, but were "eating and drinking, marrying and given in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark?" In other words will you live your life as if it were not a battle against the world, the flesh and the devil and in so doing surrender to the enemy. Or will you be like Noah who heard God's word to him and obeyed, entering the hull of ship while water swept over the face of the earth? The truth is that everyday it is raining and we need God's help. We need his help not to take that drink this holiday season, we need his help to spare us from that final incident that will severe for good a troubled familial relationship, and maybe we need God's help to be delivered from the distressing memories of past holiday seasons. To borrow another metaphor from Gospel music: the Gospel train is coming, Jesus is the engineer, the conductor is shouting 'All abroad'. Will you get on board?