ON BEING LEFT OUT - Pastor Ben Baldus

Trinity Episcopal Church

101 East Mansion Street

Marshall, MI 49068-1186

 

3 May 2009

 

Fourth Sunday of Easter (B)

 

 

Acts 4: 5-12                                                                                                            1 John 3: 16-24

Psalm 23                                                                                                                  John 10: 11-18

 

 

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

 Circles within circles.  Spheres within spheres.

 From the smallest in the center to the largest at the perimeter.  Whether we speak of sub-atomic particles, atoms, molecules; or more complex structures including polar bears, people, solar systems, stars, galaxies or the entire cosmos—the universe and all its parts are related.  

Today is the 4^th Sunday of Easter, in Lutheran circles called Good Shepherd Sunday, when we hear of God’s tender care for us. As George Jennings, librettist for George Frederic Handel’s beloved oratorio, "Messiah"  wrote, "Oh, we like sheep, have gone astray". 

Whether one likes sheep or not, the flock is akin to a family.  According to our Epistle reading, we are described as children in God’s family, always in danger of sin and deceit coming from the devil.

The apostles spoke in Acts about a sort of family in which all was held in common.  All was distributed according to need, and there was not a needy person among them.  According to scripture, they were of "one heart and soul" and lived in a sharing community.

While it is unlikely that many of us are ready to rush off and join a commune or a monastic community—I ask that you consider the various sorts of relationships that exist here at Trinity or in the wider Marshall community.

The first circle of relationships centers on individuals and families.  What obligations do we have to those in our midst- in our families or our church community?  How do we reach out to those who have gone away or who have been left outside our community?

The psalmist has a name for being left out.  It’s the valley, the valley of the shadow of death.  Outside of community, it is difficult to flourish or to respond to needs. 

You’ve all heard the story of the embers in the summertime campfire.  If you pull a piece of burning wood outside of the fire it will soon extinguish itself in grey ash. 

Whereas if it were part of the blazing fire its life would be extended in that of the whole. The analogy of the fire is here akin to the promise of God to spread a table before one’s enemies, to anoint us and to keep our water cup full to the brim.

This happens within our community, it is extended beyond our immediate needs to embrace those of others around us. 

Circles within circles.  Spheres within spheres.

In our Gospel reading, St John refers to Jesus as the Good Shepherd.  A shepherd who would sacrifice life and limb for the flock or any member thereof.  A clear distinction is drawn between the responsibility of the shepherd and a "hired hand" in this regard. 

The hired hand runs away at the first sign of danger.  The Good Shepherd, on the other hand, knows the flock, speaks to them and is one with them.

You may ask what does that have to do with life here at Trinity.  Trinity the unchanged, the unchanging.  A place where past and future are frozen at the intersection of time we call the present.

We rightly revere the past.  The good old days, or, depending on your point of view, the bad old days; have shaped our understanding of church and community. 

There are pictures all over the place of Bishops, s, clergy and persons long-gone from our midst.  A multitude swallowed-up in the mists of time and, we hope, now on another shore and in a greater light.

If Trinity Church, and you who are all the saints here present in this place, is to move forward in ministry—what we do must be at the edge of history.  That moving point where past and future meet. 

In my view, Episcopalians are uniquely equipped to meet this challenge.  The church is richly saturated with tradition.  God help us if a prayer is changed, or a rubric for worship revised.  Some would argue that our feet are firmly planted backward to 1662. 

Others would say our more progressive hearts have made it to the 1928 Book of Common Prayer and the 1940 Hymnal, respectively.

So, we appreciate history.  Circles of connection from generation to generation.

It’s OK to look back, to recreate the past in a way that celebrates a unique faith story.  I like Gregorian Chant, I like old hymns.  I like old buildings that exude history—stained glass, pipe organs, incense, candles—the whole nine yards.  Our past shapes our future and defines our present.  Our here and now.

My challenge to you is to crane your necks so you may look ahead while cherishing the past.  There are a thousands of souls in our midst seeking community.

Community hasn’t much to do with how we worship, what we wear at the service or the details of our liturgy.  It is possible to be traditional and still be an attractive, warm-hearted, God-filled community.   

Did you know that one of the fastest-growing Episcopal Churches in the US is St Thomas’ Church, on Fifth Avenue in New York City? 

Modern?  No. They do Rite One with lots of music, they read the King James Version of the Bible and celebrate the Eucharist with the priest’s back to the congregation. 

Now I must admit that they do stunning music in a wonderful acoustic, have two pipe organs and an articulate, gifted preacher. 

The gist of their growth, however, has more to do with their genuine, unassuming outreach to those in need in the community to serve whatever needs they encounter than anything to do with a love of things old.   

Listen to these words from John.

I am the good shepherd.  I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father.  And I lay down my life for the sheep. 

After worshiping at another parish on several occasions, my late father—who loved the liturgy and church music—told me that Episcopalians need three knees to carry out the Liturgy. 

Prayer, worship and study.  Now we can add watching TV church services in a bewildering variety of styles to our growing list of foibles. 

I encourage you to look ahead to these days as we seek to renew ourselves for ministry.  During this time of transition when we seek to discern the directions in which we are being called to serve God and our neighbor. 

To renew our worship.  To commit ourselves to ministry in the here and now.  To nurture all in the faith.  To be more responsible to need and radiate genuine hospitality.

Evangelism isn’t a thing that happens in stadiums or on TV with facile, fast-talking preachers who make a compelling case for you to send your last dollar their way.   It is most effective when you take the time to invite friends, work colleagues and support staff to become part of a growing community of faith here in Marshall.

As a response, it is important that we make a pact with ourselves to be more visible in the wider community. 

To do what needs to be done to ensure that our circle is an inclusive one, a welcoming one.  One in which the Spirit of Christ is met at the junction of past and future, which we call now.

“You Are Mine”

Luke 3, 15-17; 21-22.  Acts 8, 14-17. Isaiah 43, 1-8.

Year C.  Jan. 10, 2009. Epiphany 1.

 Isaiah 43 says, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”  With these words God speaks to the people of God.  With these words and the rest of today’s first reading, the prophet proclaims God as creator and redeemer, the God to whom they belong.  These words flow from the very heart of God.  They are filled with love and with passion as God, through Isaiah, tells the people not to be afraid.  He proclaims God’s faithfulness and the people’s ultimate security, a security based on God’s love, power, and presence.  Through these words, the prophet calls forth faith in God in the people of God—not because of who they are or what they do on their own, but because of who God is and what God does.  “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”

 The need to belong is part of what it means to be human.  Some folks seem to have a greater need than others, but as a whole the human race experiences belonging as one of the primary needs of life.  On a simple level, most of us know the warm feeling that comes from receiving a phone call, text message, letter, or E-mail from someone who just wants to connect.  The recent popularity of internet sites such as Face Book, You Tube, Twitter or chat rooms arise from this desire to connect, to belong.  Most of us can remember feelings of either relief or disappointment when we were or were not chosen to be on a team.   Most of us find it easier to be on the receiving end of a contact rather than to be the one who reaches out to someone else.  We all like to be “chosen,” not ignored or rejected. 

We all like to belong somewhere.  And although there are times we want to be alone, no one I know wants to be lonely.

   And this is why I find the words of God in Isaiah combined with the story of Jesus’ baptism and the subsequent baptisms of the Samaritans so powerful.  God reaches out to reassure a people faced with the horrors of exile with a message of love, a message of security, a message of belonging.  “Fear not, for I have redeemed you.  I have called you by name.  You are mine.”   God knows them personally—by name.  God has paid for them because they belong to him.  And because they belong to him, he promises to be with them.

 And God did stay with the Israelites through the fire and water of being conquered and brought into exile.  As a people, God accompanied them through years of pain, suffering, and challenge during the exile and after.   And then hundreds of years later, God came again—this time in human flesh—this time to make this same promise to all people everywhere and then to do what had to be done to carry it out so the results would continue into eternity.

   Today’s readings center on God coming to people.  In this reading, God comes to Israel through the words of Isaiah the prophet.  In Luke’s brief account of Jesus’ baptism, God comes in-the-flesh, as Jesus begins his ministry to the world.  In Acts, we hear the story of how God uses Jesus’ disciples to come to those beyond the borders of Israel as Philip, Peter and John preach, baptize, and lay hands on the Samaritans.  In all three readings for this Sunday, God comes.  In all three, God not only comes, but comes as Lover and Savior of the world God created.  

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”  Later in this same prophecy, God adds to these already strong caring words by saying, “…you are precious in my sight and I love you.”  And in our Gospel reading for the day we see God’s ultimate word of love, the word made flesh standing at the water’s edge after being baptized into John’s baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

 You and I cannot understand the Christian Gospel without first understanding the baptism of Jesus.  It is in his baptism that Jesus takes his stand in solidarity with sinful humanity.  It is here at the edge of the Jordan that the sinless Jesus accepts his call to be the Lamb of God who carries away the sin of the world.  It is here that God places the sins of all humanity on Jesus—God’s only begotten son, the second person of the Trinity from all eternity, the word made flesh in the womb of Mary.  

And why?  Because God has a dream, a dream where God, women, and men can live in an intimate right relationship with one another—a relationship so close that it can be described as a union.  And this cannot happen unless Jesus, fully God as the second person of the eternal Trinity and also fully man, is able as the God-man to demolish all obstacles and conquer all enemies so that people are cleansed and purified, able to “see the face of God” without being destroyed by the fire of God’s holiness.  This means that Jesus must carry the obstacles called sins all the way to the cross and there experience his second baptism, this time not by water but by fire, the fire of God’s holy wrath against sin poured out on him, the one who bears the sin of all.  

If he were not God he could not do it.  If he were not human, it would mean nothing for us.  In the words of Paul, “Jesus was made to be sin for us so that in him we may be made the righteousness of God.”  It is the great exchange.  Jesus takes my sin and the consequences I deserve and through faith gives me his righteousness and the blessings I don’t deserve.   Since Jesus takes my punishment, I receive forgiveness.  Since Jesus became sin for me, I am declared righteous now and am being made righteous by the in-dwelling Holy Spirit through word and sacrament.  Since Jesus carried my sins even to the point of feeling the pains of being forsaken by God, I will go through this life, physical death and into the life after death without ever being abandoned by the author of all life.  

In Jesus, you see God working out the prophecy of Isaiah.  “Fear not for I have redeemed you.  I have called you by name.  You are mine.”

 God achieved God’s dream of making an intimate relationship with humans possible through Jesus’ life and death and resurrection and ascension.  Jesus carried forward the plan to fulfill the dream when he showed us what God is like during his ministry of preaching, teaching, and healing.  Jesus moved toward the goal by opposing evil in this present world even while carrying a load of sin greater than any one human has ever had to carry and doing this without falling into the sin he bore.  As God’s beloved Son, he gained the victory by carrying this overwhelming load of sin all the way to the cross and abandonment by the Father without ever once choosing a way other than God’s appointed way.   

We see Jesus’ battle to successfully demolish all barriers to God clearly in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus asks God to remove the cup placed before him, but ends with the words, “Not my will, but thine be done.”  We have glimpses of the immense suffering Jesus endured to bring his work to completion as he cries out on the cross in agony, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  

Jesus went through all this because we could not.  Jesus went through all this so that all people everywhere who belong to God by virtue of their creation could also belong to God by virtue of their redemption, recreated by baptism through faith to become children who walk in forgiveness now and who will eventually enjoy life as God’s child unimpeded by the presence of sin and all evil, beloved children, grateful to belong to God, eager to be and do what is truly good, filled with the fullness of the constant presence of the love of God and one another.  Children who belong.  Children whose sense of belonging constantly fills them with inexpressible joy.  That is God’s dream.

 That is the goal to which you and I are called in our baptism just like the Samaritans in the book of Acts.  It is to this that every man, woman, and child is called.  When the pastor or priest says, “George Edward or Mary Anna, I baptize you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, God is saying, “You are mine.”

  When, following baptism, the priest or pastor’s hand is placed on our heads, marking the sign of the cross on our foreheads, and we hear the words, “Laura Elaine or Tom Allen, you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever,” we can know that we belong, that we are secure, never to be forsaken by the God who loved us enough to redeem us from all that separates us from his love.  We can know that we too are called by name.  That God’s words in Isaiah are also spoken to us. “Fear not for I am with you.  I have called you by name.  You are mine.”

May we trust these words every minute of every day of our lives—and then share them with others.