Sunday, August 13, 2017

Charlottesville's Web

In the past week, two discussions with two friends of two different religious traditions brought up the topic of "exposing things hidden." Each of them were dealing with very different things, but I quietly noted that this theme had emerged in our conversations and I carried that into the weekend. 

And then...Charlottesville.

I had heard there was going to be something happening with white nationalists rallying because of a vote by city officials in Charlottesville to remove a statue of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee. I had also heard that there would be clergy and laypeople assembling to respond in a peaceful counter-demonstration to this hate-fueled rally. I was anxious for them, and prayed that this would play out as it has in the past four decades in America: one group rallies with  about 50 of their super-white friends while many more  gather to sing and pray in defiance of white nationalism. The groups are separated, they disperse, and that's that.

But not this time in Charlottesville.

I grew concerned as I followed a Twitter feed of the Rev. Traci Blackmon, a St. Louis pastor who has been so outspoken against white supremacy since the Michael Brown killing in Ferguson. Initially, there was the prayer vigil gathering in a Charlottesville church. The sanctuary was filled with people of all races. They were there to center in prayer, be reminded of their mission and commission from Christ to stand in peace with Love to protect those who are the targets of white supremacy. 

Then the images began appearing on Facebook...videos of young white men dressed in khakis and polo and Oxford shirts marching with tiki torches and chanting slogans of "Blood and Soil" and "You will not replace us!" (which was later reported to be "Jews will not replace us!") The cadence of the chant was reminiscent of a scene from the Nazi propoganda film, "Triumph of the Will" in which a crowd assembled in Nuremberg cheered on Adolph Hitler:

"Ein Volk! Ein Reich! Ein F├╝hrer!  Ein Deutschland!"  

My body temperature dropped as I watched this on the screen of my iPad. This was no 50 people; there were probably a couple hundred of them...all white, all male, and about the same ages as my nieces and nephew. Then there were the tweets from Rev. Blackmon:



This is Charlottesville...home to my dad's alma mater and law school.

Rev. Blackmon would later post a Facebook video, her voice tense with terror as she and others drove through the street back to their hotel. She hadn't seen Klansmen since she was five years old. And here they were...only they weren't wearing their robes and hoods. They were proudly walking through the streets of Charlottesville with their torches and bats. And they were young men dressed in respectable street clothes. 

The tension grew on Saturday. There were clashes between the two groups. And as the counter-demonstrators marched in a street, a car driven by James Fields of Ohio, plowed into some parked cars  that ran into the peaceful assembly of people, killing one woman and injuring 19 others. Two others, helicopter operators with the state police, would also die as a result of this protest by the Nazis. The president, a man who has hired White Nationalists as his advisors, issued a statement in which he "condemned in the strongest way possible" the violence "on all sides." Forgive me for saying this but...bullshit. While some on the counter-demonstration front apparently maced American Nazi leader Richard Spencer as he marched, nobody on their side was killed by a far-left winger slamming a car into them. These are not apples to apples here.

I thought back to my friends and the bringing to light those things which were hidden in darkness. We have always known that there was a racist element in our society. Many of us know that our country was built on the injustice of slavery, the taking of land from the indigenous population, and that there are systems in place to make sure that one group--white Americans--will not suffer the hardships of exclusion of access. But if the many senseless killings of black and brown people without justice being served didn't wake up white America to this fact...if the election of a president who sides with totalitarian regimes and has outspoken white supremacists as his closest aides didn't wake up white America...perhaps this horrific event in Charlottesville might make more of white America see that we have a serious problem...a real enemy...and that enemy is us. 

In the Gosepl of Luke, we hear Jesus say these words:

 ‘No one after lighting a lamp hides it under a jar, or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lampstand, so that those who enter may see the light. For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light.’(Luke 8:16-17)

I think Charlottesville has exposed and shed light on the evil that is all too-pervasive in America and has been for far too long. We have a cancer of white supremacy and it is being brought out of the shadows and into the light and parades through streets with tiki torches in khakis and Oxford shirts. It tweets generic and lackluster condemnations of itself while blustering and bullying with threats of nuclear war. Especially for those of us who are white and who claim the mantle of Christ, while we personally may not participate in the facism of America, we are not allowed to turn away, plug our ears, and otherwise do nothing to dismantle it. Silence is not an option. Now that we have seen the ugly head of Neo Nazism parading in a southern city, there is no turning away but a call to confront this and bring our own lights to this cause.

Dear white people: it's time to dismantle the white supremacy that has festered below the surface in our society once and for all.


Saturday, August 5, 2017

Woe to You, Senators, Who Prooftext by Tweet

Senator Marco Rubio started it.

"It" in this case is my deluge of postcards where I quote passages of Scripture.

Our junior U.S. Senator began daily tweets on his personal Twitter account to let everyone know that he reads the Bible, or at least some portions of the Bible. Presumably, he feels the need to share this with the Twitterverse so that everyone can see how he, as a United States Senator, is being guided by God in all that he does. He is such a good Christian.

Interesting. Funny that he has hung so closely to the Book of Proverbs and considers this evidence of his deep and abiding Christian faith. I would have thought someone wanting to call upon the Lord through social media might seek guidance from "our only mediator and advocate" Jesus Christ. And while Proverbs does contain some wonderfully wise words, I thought the Senator needed to get a little closer to the words of Jesus. So, I started sending him postcards each with a different passage from the Bible. I don't think it's right to limit Scriptural instructions to just 140 characters.


Considering Sen. Rubio's recent actions, his most egregious to date being the many votes he cast in favor of taking away access to health insurance for some of the very poor, elderly, and differently-abled people in America, I figured he needed a little more Jesus and a little less Proverbial wisdom.

Most of the passages I chose were from the Gospel according to Matthew. Matthew 25, naturally, came to mind with the closing verses being Jesus' discourse on "what you do to the least of these you do to me," only I decided the Senator needed to read the parts about those who did NOT take care of the poor, the hungry, the orphan, the widow, and the people in prison. I also reminded him of Matthew 7:15-23 in which we learn to beware of false prophets and those people who say "Lord, Lord" but Jesus never knew them because they failed to bear the type of spiritual fruit that says, "I'm a follower of Christ."  I mixed it up with a parable from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 16, in which we hear the tale of the rich man who ignored Lazarus the beggar at the gate...only to die and find Lazarus was in heaven with Father Abraham while the rich man suffered in the fires of Hades.

I realize the Senator prefers his Old Testament readings, so Psalm 146 seemed appropriate in reminding him of how we are to not put our trust in rulers of the earth because they are going to die and blow away...just like him and his party's ordained and unhinged leader. Each postcard reminded him that the current administration is morally bankrupt and he should stop defending them.

This morning, however, I learned that Sen. Rubio...like Sens. Graham, McConnell, and McCain as well as the president...have all received large sums of money from a Ukrainian billionaire with ties to Russian President Vladimir Putin. So, it may be that Rubio is like one who cannot hear; hence will not listen. Perhaps he needs to read another verse from Proverbs:


The wicked accept a concealed bribe

   to pervert the ways of justice.--Proverbs 17:23

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

What Welcome Looks Like


Last weekend, I attended an evangelism workshop.

You read that correctly. I. Attended. An. Evangelism. Workshop.

I did this willingly in advance of a revival that is happening in the diocese of Georgia in September.

Yes, you read all that correctly, too. This is still me writing, OK. And no--I have not forgotten my Northern roots or my sexual orientation and identity. Having established these facts, you can read on in confidence that I will 'xplain all of this. :-)

Presiding Bishop Michael Curry is on a mission to inspire Episcopalians to be a little more assertive and bold about the Jesus we teach and preach about in our churches. Because that Jesus is not the one who puts an asterisk next to the word "all" or places limits on who is eligible to inherit the eternal life God promises to all. The Jesus we talk about is ever-expanding the banquet table and adding more chairs and heaping up more plates of food for anyone who is desiring and he won't even check to see if you'd been in the church last Sunday or not. 

Our lead presenter, the Rev. Canon Stephanie Spellers, put before us the following definition of "Episcopal Evangelism":

"We seek, name and celebrate Jesus' loving presence in the stories of all people--then invite everyone to MORE." 

I was so delighted to see this definition! Nowhere does it say, "Go out and convert those heathens and unchurched people," or "Go tell a stranger that they need to find JEEE-SUS to be SAVED!!!" Instead,  this room of about 70 people were split into pairs, and we did some real simple exercises of listening to our partner tell their story and then sharing our own answer to whatever was the question before us. And in this sharing, strangers can become friends, and friends can hear in each other's words similar ideas, dreams, hurts, and anxieties. Where is Jesus in that? Right there in the middle. Because the Good News of God in Christ happens when we take time to get to listen and know each other without an agenda. As our Presiding Bishop says:

"Evangelism is about sharing the journey into a deeper relationship with God and with each other, and not about us controlling the end result. It's not about us increasing our market share, and it's not just propping up the institution. If we believe the relationship with a living God does matter, then evangelism and anything that helps us to come closer as human children of God matters."

I went into the workshop with skepticism and I left with a feeling of affirmation. Everything I was hearing was telling me that I have been doing evangelism, the Episcopal Way, this whole time beginning with this blog which I started in 2007 when I had my own awakening. For newcomers, you can see that first entry by clicking HERE.

So, is evangelism just listening and telling stories? No, not just. It's important, and it's a cornerstone, but the chief cornerstone begins with each of us first getting settled into our own skins. The starting point is--as it always is with the Episcopal Church--prayer. Prayer is not just our words offered up to God; it's our hearts and minds opening to receive "the peace of God which passes all understanding." In some traditions, there's a lot of calling on God, petitioning God. We do that, too. But I have found that sometimes the best prayer begins with taking some time to be silent and even as I pray aloud, I find that I often leave some space in between to give room for me and others to listen. Once I am settled, I'm ready to take that important next step of encountering another person or persons. My challenge...as an introvert...is how to initiate a conversation. I've been lucky enough to be an Education for Ministry mentor which gives me some practice in how to open a dialogue. But that is often very specific to whatever is happening within the group. I don't want to fall into "reporter mode" either because that can feel confrontational. So, instead of asking lots of "why" questions...the trainers suggest another approach that can illicit a story: ask "when" questions such as "when have you experienced community?" or "what" questions such as "what kind of a community do you dream of being part of?" And then...listen. In all likelihood, what I am likely to hear is a description of God. I have had this experience, many times, as I witness various communities that I move in within my city. And I have thought, "This is God at work in this person or people!" Now, my challenge is to acknowledge that out loud. For all I know, it may be the chance to hit the reset button for the other person's perception of what it means to believe in God in Jesus. That would be Good News.

This kind of acknowledgment and affirmation of the good others are doing is what I think Jesus meant when he expressed in Matthew's Gospel: "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."

Amen.







Saturday, June 24, 2017

All of Me


It was the end of a rehearsal one night at the Mickee Faust Clubhouse, and I was gathering up my scripts into a folder. We’d just finished prepping a musical number for our tenth annual “Queer As Faust” cabaret, a song poking fun at the president and his gay supporters in the Log Cabin Republican group. One of my fellow cast members wanted to know how I “do this” (meaning Faust) while being a Christian.

This was not the first time I have been asked this question. I had something of the reverse put to me years ago when I arrived at St. John’s Episcopal Church in my leather biker jacket. A member and fellow Eucharistic Minister said to me, “You can’t come in dressed like that. This isn’t Mickee Faust!” (I should note, he was smiling and clearly ribbing me.) But his joke was likely a serious matter for others.

How can I be in Faust and be an active Christian?

I doubt anyone would call the Mickee Faust Club a “holy place.” It is very rooted in the secular world with a mythology built on the quest for world media domination by a giant rat who smokes a cigar, cracks bad jokes, and is the unloved twin of another much more famous Florida rodent with a Magic Kingdom in Orlando. The woman under the rubber rat ears is an avowed atheist as are many of the company members. Some were raised in households where church attendance was mandatory or were put through a parochial school where education came with a heavy dose of Roman Catholicism or Southern Baptist Convention. Many of us identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community and as such have experienced the cruelty of Christians coming to our events and railing against us while waving the Bible in the air. Such experiences tend to color one’s opinion of Christianity and not in a good way. And when Christianity asserts that its name sake is God in human form…well, it then makes God a culprit in the nastiness of God’s followers.

But then look at Jesus and the people and places where he primarily moved and lived and had his being. Yes, he taught in the Temple, and people were astounded and amazed at his teachings. Yes, he would have dinner with Pharisees (probably because he was of that set). But much of the time, Jesus was hanging out with all those people who were “those people.” He was close to women and men who had no power to speak of, who were the discarded, ignored, or abandoned of his society. He didn’t assert himself with hellfire and brimstone; his power was in his presence and his willingness to enter the experience of these “others.”

Why do you suppose Jesus preferred to be in these settings? Some might say it’s because “these people” needed to be saved. That would be the popular approach to these stories. But I think another way to see this could be that Jesus was searching for those who were the most fertile ground for achieving His ultimate goal: bringing God and humanity together. If Jesus’ mission was to meet people where they were and not where they ought to be, and if his mission was to go in search of the lost and those who had been pushed away, then he’s going to be seen in some places that his society might have deemed “impure.”

Which brings me back to Faust and being a Christian and that whole notion that if I’m a Christian, how can I possibly be part of Faust? I’d say because Jesus expects to be part of the mix of perfect imperfection of our lives so that the mission of Love and reconciliation continues through us. God doesn’t just love that part of me that can recite prayers, or kneel at the altar. God works through me whether I’m at Faust or offering healing touch to someone on my massage table.

God isn’t contained in things and buildings. The spirit of God lives and moves within us and the way we treat one another and live into that new commandment to love and seek out each other. That can happen at Faust and at Church.




Monday, June 12, 2017

Pulse: A Year Later


The bells of St. John's Episcopal Church solemnly tolled 49 times at noon today, the one year anniversary of the deadly hate crime committed against the black and Latinx LGBTQ+ community in Orlando's Pulse nightclub. Each echoing ring a remembrance of one of the people killed that night by a twisted and angry individual armed with an assault rifle. The attack shocked all of us who identify as LGBTQ+ because clubs such as Pulse have traditionally been the places that have harbored us, especially when we are young and just beginning to understand our orientation and identity.

I lit a rainbow candle and then sat quietly on a bench in the church's columbarium, closing my eyes to pray as the bells sounded. I couldn't remember all the names of the dead, but I could remember their faces. Most were so young, not even yet 30 years old. And there was the one name and face I could remember: Brenda Lee Marquez McCool, a mother of eleven children and a two-time breast cancer survivor who had gone out to the Latin Night at Pulse with her gay son. They were there to celebrate Orlando's Pride Week. When the gunman began his shooting spree, Brenda reportedly told her son to get down, and put her body in the way of the bullets. I began to sob, my tears co-mingling with the misty rain.

How much more death?
How much more grief?
How little progress have we made since that horrible night?
How? How? How?

Even since Pulse, there still have been violent shooting incidents in this country. None with same body count, but every incident--in Illinois, Texas, California, New York, Alabama--all of those killed had a family that is left to bury their dead and grieve that loss.

There was no will power to address the issue during the Obama administration. And now, we have the NRA's poster child in the White House, and federal lawmakers are actually proposing legislation to relax some of the restrictions on guns. Even Florida Congressman Neal Dunn (R-D2) has signed on to a bill to make it easier to purchase silencers. In our state legislature, there were twice as many pro-gun laws proposed to the ones that were gun control measures. Thankfully, a couple of Republican lawmakers from South Florida complained of "gun fatigue" which resulted in many of the bills dying quietly in committee.

But for Florida to have done nothing to address gun violence after Pulse is...well...repulsive. If any state should be taking the lead on limiting people's access to these weapons of warfare such as the one used at Pulse it should be Florida. I'm losing patience with politicians who want to offer their remembrances of this tragic day.  I would rather they use the power given to them by the voters to do something constructive to stem the violence. No citizen needs to own an AR-15 or any other multiple-shooting device. There is also technology in the works that will make it harder for someone other than the actual owner of a weapon to fire it. These types of technological developments deserve funding and support.

As the bells finished tolling, and I wiped away my tears, I felt a sense of peace come over me. I prayed the Lord's Prayer with special emphasis...

Our Father who art in heaven
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come 
thy will be done 
on earth as it is in heaven. 
Give us this day our daily bread
and forgive us our trespasses 
as we forgive those who trespass against us. 
And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever and ever. Amen.




Monday, April 24, 2017

St. Thomas and The March for Science


I couldn't help myself this past Sunday.

Our deacon finished reading the assigned Gospel lesson from John, which is always the story of the apostle, Thomas, who insists that he must be able to see Jesus for himself and stick his fingers in his wounds in order to believe that Christ really had risen from the dead. I leaned over to one of my fellow choir members, a scientist, and whispered:

"Thomas just wanted peer review."

Joking aside, I think there's definitely an element of truth to that idea. All the other apostles had seen the resurrected Jesus, and were telling him all about it. But Thomas had his doubts about the veracity of their statements and wanted proof.

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’
 A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’ (John 20:24-29)

Whenever I hear people talk about this story, it's always presented as "doubting Thomas," as if there is something wrong with him. If Thomas had had more faith, then he wouldn't have needed this proof. And maybe it was just the juxtaposition of hearing this Gospel story after spending a few hours of my Saturday marching in Tallahassee along side scientists and science lovers that I gained a new insight into one of my favorite apostles. I've liked Thomas because of this moment of being so completely real to the way we are as humans and having our doubts about something we haven't seen for ourselves.

And, if we think about Thomas as if he really were a scientist requiring an extra study to prove this "fact" that Jesus was resurrected from the dead, then his doubt can be seen as a legitimate and necessary inquiry. Certainly, Jesus didn't seem to have a problem appearing again for Thomas' benefit, and even challenged him to follow through on the experiment he wanted to do of sticking his fingers and hand into his wounds. Thomas doesn't; the appearance alone was enough for him to say, "My Lord and my God!" Then Jesus gives him the nudge: "Oh, so now because you have seen me you believe. Blessed are the ones who haven't been so lucky and yet have come to believe."

In his sermon at our church (which happens to be St. Thomas Episcopal Church), Bishop Scott Benhase drew the distinction between having "belief" and having "faith." "Belief" is about having certainty and proof of a truth beyond a shadow of a doubt. "Faith" requires a trust in the movement of God's grace in our lives. Thinking of this moment again with Thomas...his need to experience the risen Jesus first-hand, and not just hear the stories from his fellow apostles...speaks to Thomas wanting a verifiable truth that would fit with his belief system. And you can imagine, he must have believed what made the most sense to him and to any rational person: there is no way Jesus defeated death because nobody does that. Thomas must have thought the rest of the apostles were high.

But the other part of faith, and definitely the way of Jesus, is to not fit into our rational idea of what constitutes "the way things are" because faith, and most definitely Jesus, doesn't adhere to those kinds of rules. As the prophet Isaiah said, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways my ways, says the Lord." The whole mission of Jesus is to turn our belief, that commitment to concrete answers and certitude, on its head and get us to give up on the mission to find "the truth" in favor of trusting in God's unending revelation of truth through faith. That's the work of grace.


This is where the sciences, and the scientists, come in. There's been such bad blood between those who make it their life's work to search out truth, in the universe or the earth or the seas or the mind, and those who are content to live into a hope that trusts God will unveil all things in God's time. I'm sorry there's been such a binary split between science and religion that people tend to pick sides and set up straw men that they can knock down to prove that they're right and the other side is wrong. Personally, I think God loves scientists as much as any other group and delights in their Thomas-like inquiry and demand for proof, and seeking out signs that point to a "truth." Scientists are the ones cracking the codes of the mysterious for us. They are helping us to find out more about our world, our ecosystems, and how to be the good stewards of this planet we were commanded to be. And, for me, rather than their discoveries proving there is no need for a belief in God, I think they're just taking us deeper into the mystery. It's like one of those Russian dolls where you open one, there's another one. And another one. And another one. It's endless! Once a hypothesis is tested, and tested again, and the "truth" remains elusive, the best scientists are the ones who eventually say, "We just don't know."

Here enters faith and the hope and trust that it's OK not to have all the answers. And this is the place where I believe God meets us to say, "You don't know it all. But keep going. Keep probing. Keep seeking. I'm here. And I delight in your curiosity!" Science is cool. So is God.




Friday, April 14, 2017

Intersections: A Good Friday Sermon

We are at a crossroads. Today we commemorate Jesus’ execution at Calvary. Fortunately, for those of us who are believers in Jesus as the Son of God, we know that this is not the summation of the events of this week. If our story ended with the crucifixion, I’m not sure that we’d still be here some two thousand plus years later remembering this man’s sacrifice for humanity.  I have yet to run across Christians who gather in a building called “The Church of the Crucifixion” because the saving power of God doesn’t remain nailed to a cross but comes through the rising and resurrection and the victory of love and life over sin and death.
But we aren’t there yet…and I don’t want to skip passed this chapter in the story to get to the triumphant conclusion too soon. And there’s a lot we can unpack out of this moment.

I mentioned crossroads but perhaps a better term is “intersection.” We have several players here: the Roman authority with Pilate and the guards. The “Jews”…which in this case were really the subset of the power elite in the Jewish community…Jesus’ mother Mary, and the beloved disciple… John…along with Mary Magdalene and another Mary…two criminals, who we assume are in fact criminals, being executed with Jesus on either side, Joseph of Arimathea….and Nicodemus…who we remember from early on in John’s Gospel as the man who visited Jesus at night to have an intellectual conversation…only to find his mind blown up by this new rabbi on the block.
For the Romans and the Jewish religious leaders, Jesus represents a threat. This Jesus challenges their earthly authority. The Romans barely tolerated having Jews in the empire to begin with and the Jewish leaders had worked out a tenuous balance that kept them in power amongst their followers and kept things comfortably safe. Jesus disrupts that…constantly challenging people to look beyond the letter of the law to see what is the spirit behind it: that they are to release the captives, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and above all, that they are to love God and one another as he has loved them. Jesus challenges the status quo and the two groups most invested in keeping their power structure in place intersect to bring him down.

At the foot of the cross we have some of those who were among Jesus’ closest friends. Jesus, while hanging there dying a slow and painful death, looks down to see his mother and his beloved disciple.  To her he says, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple he said, “Here is your mother.” Through him…these two lives have intersected and now must cleave to one another in love as they prepare to grieve this loss.
While it’s not in this account, we know from Luke’s telling of the crucifixion that the two criminals on either side of Jesus were having their own moment with the Messiah. One is jeering him and taunting him, but the other scolds his fellow inmate and pleads with Jesus to remember him when he comes into his kingdom. And the dying Jesus promises that this man will be remembered in paradise. Another intersection…here it’s a man who, in his darkest hour, recognizes and expresses a belief in Christ and the one who goes to his death mocking Jesus in his unbelief.

Jesus dies and from the shadows we have the emergence of Joseph of Arimathea to ask that he be allowed to take possession of Jesus’ body so that he might give him a proper burial. And then Nicodemus also overcomes his fear to assist Joseph and prepare Jesus’ body for the grave. Two men…who had previously been lingering in the distance…draw near…intersect and do this honor for a respected teacher.

Jesus is at the center of all these intersections: enemies, friends, believers and non-believers, the curious, the ones who are afraid. In his death…as he did with his life and ministry…he is leading them through a life-altering transformation that becomes complete with his resurrection.  Even some of the ones who are actively participating in putting him to death will not escape being changed.  The temple curtain in the holy of holies will tear in two…bringing heaven and earth in closer contact…the ground will shake. And some who had been content to mock Christ in his life will be left to wonder if they hadn’t just made a terrible mistake.

Probably the biggest intersection in this story comes not so much from the Gospel directly, but the interpretation of the story throughout the millennia. (You’ll be happy to know that the Education for Ministry group over at St. Thomas has been reading a book examining atonement theories, so the timing of our study couldn’t be better with this being Holy Week!) I’ve often heard it said that we killed Christ. We are the ones who gave him up and allowed our fear of change to put him on the cross. I’m not saying that’s not a valid interpretation of us and our role here, but I think if we separate ourselves from Christ in this intersectional moment we’re missing out on the “good” of this Good Friday.

I believe that St. Paul was on to something in his letter to the Romans: if we profess a faith in Jesus’ life and love, and have been striving to do his will, then we are becoming ‘at one’ with Jesus because we are in relationship with him. And if we are one with Jesus through our baptism then we are also one with him in his death and resurrection. We are in that relationship constantly…it’s not just a one-off and we’re done.  Jesus takes us with him through his own bondage of sin and death so that we, too, may rise with him from the grave…and live into the liberating love of God. And once we’ve experienced that sense of freedom we are prepared to carry it forward to everyone we encounter. That is Good News!

This intersection, the one where Jesus is meeting us in our present lives and working through us…crucified/resurrected…crucified/resurrected…crucified/resurrected…is often the one where we stall.  We sit at the traffic light too long wondering if that green light means it’s safe to go. Or maybe we’re not paying attention and we’ll just look at the phone in our laps and ignore the light altogether. Because to step on the gas means we have to leave the spot we’re in and travel in a different direction than what we’re used to. We may encounter something or someone new. We will be changed.

If we are deeply committed to being Christian, and remaining in relationship with Christ, then we will, by necessity, undergo this transformation that comes from dying to our old selves and habits and fears and prejudices and resurrecting to a new way of living, and of seeing ourselves and other people, not as strangers, but as fellow travelers loved unconditionally by God. The more we are willing to let Christ carry us through our various types of crucifixion to resurrection, the more we become refined and primed to offer back to our world, our friends and neighbors, the same love that was in Christ. This is what empowers us to speak up at times of injustice, reach out to the people in need and on the margins, meet and embrace the person who we think of as “the other”: politically, racially, ethnically, sexually, mentally…you name it.

We need what our Presiding Bishop calls “The Jesus Movement” where we meet our neighbors wherever they are on their spiritual journey…from those who share our belief in Christ, or worship God by another name, and even those of no-faith at all…and build relationships with them deeply rooted and grounded in the love and grace we have been shown through Christ. This is how we continue that good work of God to change our world for the better. If we can die to fear and resurrect in faith, we will be doing our part to make earth as it is in heaven. So let us pray for our human family:

O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us
through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole
human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which
infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us;
unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and
confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in
your good time, all nations and races may serve you in
harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ
our Lord. Amen.