7 Easter 2010
Acts 16:16-34; Psalm 97; Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-22; John 17:20-26
A friend of mine who works in mental health told me about a client who came into her office one day. She had been seeing this client for over a year, but on that afternoon, she took one look at him and knew instantly that something was wrong: The look in his eyes was strangely vacant, and his voice didn’t sound like his own. It wasn’t just that this man had schizophrenia (although he did), or that he was addicted to heroin (although he was). Rather, she told me, she was convinced that this man was possessed by a demon.
She told me this entire story in the same tone of voice that I would use to describe a jam in the photocopier. I stared at her for a moment, not sure what to say. Like me, this friend is an Episcopalian, and I am not used to hearing Episcopalians use the language of demonic possession.
I asked her: “So what did you do?”
She shrugged and said: “I did what anyone else would do. I opened up my desk drawer, and I pulled out my Bible, and I rebuked it!”
I waited for more, but there was no more to the story. The evil spirit left her client, he sat down in a chair, and they got back to work on his addiction and schizophrenia.
Listening today to the lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, I was reminded of this story. The message is the same: Demonic beings do exist, no matter how much we try to deny their presence. But God is so much bigger that all it takes to cast them out of our lives is a little rebuke. No candle-lighting, no Latin chant – just a command from a “very much annoyed” servant of Christ. No matter how evil the spirit or how commanding its presence, it’s hard to compete with the one who is the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.
All this has me wondering about how evil spirits work today – if you’ll consent for a few moments to believe that they may really exist – and whether we can possibly expect them to manifest in the same way that they did in Biblical times. Surely, the slave girl in Philippi drew plenty of attention to herself, not to mention to Paul and Silas, as she stumbled through town shouting about slaves of the Most High God. We know that somebody was taking her seriously; the Scripture tells us that she “brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune-telling.” But you have to wonder: If this same girl was wandering through downtown Portland, crying out about slaves and God and salvation, would anyone care?
Would anyone even notice?
Perhaps, then, the ways of separating people from God that worked two thousand years ago are less effective today. Now that our society has learned how to handle people who cause a scene in public places – we simply ignore them, or we call the police, who come swiftly to drag them away – can it be that these same spirits have gone underground? Much more quietly and privately, as befits a culture that fetishizes privacy, they claim a space in our souls and do everything they can to undermine God’s work in our lives.
Maybe they’ve tried to make their claim on all of us. Instead of spirits of divination, like the one that possessed the slave girl at Philippi, we might call them spirits of isolation – although sometimes they do a very good job of convincing us that they can predict the future, too.
They isolate us from God by saying: You are so unworthy.
They isolate us from our families by saying: Your marriage is never going to work out.
They isolate us from our spiritual selves, saying: Everyone else is beautiful, and you are ugly.
And most of all, they isolate us from hope. Surely, in your darkest moments, you’ve heard them say: Nothing is ever going to get better. Your life will always be this hard.
As Christians, we are blessed to know – at least with our rational minds – that none of these things are true. We know so well that, as today’s psalm tells us, “The Lord loves those who hate evil; he preserves the lives of his saints and delivers them from the hand of the wicked.” We have heard Jesus say to the Father, “The glory that you have given me, I have given my disciples, so that the world may know … that you have loved them even as you have loved me.” And we know that, no matter what our struggles or how pronounced our suffering, glorious things are in store for us: Jesus also speaks of his desire for us, the ones who have loved him, to see his glory and join him in heaven.
We are the followers and the disciples of Jesus. We have been loved by him, redeemed by him, and called to see his glory; we have been transformed through the waters of baptism; we are treasured by God. And we know, from the hope given us of eternal life and Jesus’s return to this world, that things are going to get better.
If we’re trying to understand demons, maybe the question we should be asking is what makes those things so hard for us to remember.
But there is hope here too, for Jesus gives a clear commission to his disciples in the Gospel of Matthew: He says that part of their task will be to drive out demons, in the same breath he uses to tell them to heal the sick, raise the dead, and preach that the kingdom of heaven is near. Is it so crazy to think that as we carry on that work, we are called to drive demons out of each other?
I invite you to give this Gospel reading a little place in your heart as you leave church today and go back to your weekday world tomorrow. Keep an eye open for demons in your life and the lives of others around you, and miss no opportunity to cast them out – which is really to say, miss no opportunity to remind anyone that he or she is a beautiful, beloved, and ultimately treasured creation – a living symbol of our eternal hope in God and God’s enduring hope for us.
Homily by Cat Healy, parish clerk
archived musings and preachments
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Loved, anyway
VI OF EASTER – Year C
May 9, 2010 - Parish of Ss. Peter & Paul
Fr. Phillip Ayers
+++++
We have been celebrating it, really, these past three weeks. I’m speaking of our observance of Earth Day two weeks ago, some hymns last Sunday that focused upon the theme of earthiness, planting and crops, and today, the REAL Rogation Sunday! I imagine that a lot of us here can recall “Rogation Sunday” wherein we might have “beaten the bounds,” by walking around the perimeter of the church, singing something like “O Jesus crowned with all renown,” or “We plough the fields and scatter.” One parish I served did that with horribly tacky wooden slats that were stuck in the churchyard, to which we walked in procession and prayed at each one. I don’t think that there’s any American Episcopal church left that still does that – maybe you know of one though? And, in England, the “parish” had a huge (to us) physical boundary, around which the faithful would walk and sing and pray.
But “Rogation” comes from rogare, a Latin word meaning “to ask.” We get “interrogation” from that root-word. Asking God’s blessing upon the new planting meant a great deal to farmers and those whose lives depended upon work in the soil and God’s times and seasons of rainfall and sunshine. Nowadays, our current Book of Common Prayer leaves this Sunday to the 6th Sunday of the Easter season, with some rich readings from Scripture to ponder, and provides three Collects “for use on the traditional days” – that is, this week – “or at other times.” So, we can “rogate” any time we wish!
The Collects are found on pp. 258-259 in the prayer book and are concerned with fruitful seasons – as of old – commerce and industry, and the stewardship of creation. I love the phrase in the last collect,
2
“Make us always thankful for your loving providence; and grant that we, remembering the account that we must one day give, may be faithful stewards of your good gifts [O God].”
Oh, yes: today, in the secular calendar, it’s Mothers’ Day, dreamed up, I hear, by Hallmark cards. May’s a good time for mothers of all kinds, as “May” is short for “Mary,” and we know about her, don’t we?
Here’s a story about asking. About a century or two ago, the Pope decided that all the Jews had to leave the Vatican. Naturally there was a big uproar form the Jewish community. The Pope made a deal. He would have a religious debate with a member of the Jewish community. If the Pope won, the Jews would have to leave. The Jews realized they had no choice. They chose a middle-aged man named Moishe to represent them. Moishe asked for an addition to the debate—to make it more interesting, neither side would be allowed to talk.
The Pope reluctantly agreed. The day of the great debate came. Moishe and the Pope sat opposite one another for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Moishe looked back at him and raised one finger. The Pope waved his fingers in a circle around his head. Moishe pointed at the ground where he sat. The Pope pulled out a wafer and a glass of wine. Moishe pulled out an apple.
The Pope stood up and said, “I give up. This man is too good. The Jews can stay.”
An hour later, the cardinals were all around the Pope, asking him what happened.
3
The Pope said, “First, I held up three fingers, representing the Trinity. He held up one finger, to remind me there was still one God common to both our religions. Then I waved my fingers around to show him that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground and showing that God was also right here with us. I pulled out the wine and wafer to show that God absolves us from our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of original sin. He had an answer for everything! What could I do?
Meanwhile, the Jewish community had crowded around Moishe.
“What happened?” they asked
“Well,” said Moishe, “first, he said to me that we had three days to get out. I told him that not one of us was leaving. Then he said the whole city would be cleared of Jews. I told him we were staying right here.”
“And then?” asked a woman.
“I don’t know,” said Moishe. “He took out his lunch and I took out mine!”
[Pause]
Today presents itself as one of those Sundays when a “step-sermon” might be good. Not simply to indulge you with “sound bites” but because the Gospel reading lends itself to a “how-to” answer. That is, the Christian community faces a question that has endured for two millennia since: “How can disciples have a personal relationship with Jesus when he has gone?”
John’s – the Fourth Gospel’s – Jesus provides two answers to this dilemma.
4
The disciple can continue in a close personal relationship with the Risen Jesus by doing two things: by doing the works of Jesus (14:12-14), and by keeping his commandments (14:15-24).
What does it mean to do the works of Jesus? Walk on water? Multiply loaves? Change water into wine? Heal lepers and raise the dead? Get crucified? Maybe before trying to run the 100-yard dash with the Messiah, we should start out with some baby-steps in “doing the works of Jesus.”
Some teachings by Mother Teresa of Calcutta, compiled in a book by Lucinda Vardy called, A Simple Path, suggest a number of straightforward, yet profound, ways that the seeker can begin to have a close personal relationship with the unseen Christ.
Mother Teresa says to start out your day in silence. Find some silence every day, somewhere, even if it is just for a few minutes. In the silence, be still. Get quiet. Slow down. What follows might seem awkward and wasteful – since time is money – but keep at it. Just as Jesus sought out the silence of the desert to commune with his Abba God, so should we. No, you don’t need a Range Rover to do this. Save time and money: simply go into the “desert” of your “room,” your own quiet space. It is in the quietness of the heart that God speaks, Mother Teresa said, and so we must set aside that time for God alone to encounter us. She adds, “God is the friend of silence.”
Abba “who sees in secret” will reward you (Mt. 6:6), Jesus said; and the reward will be deepened prayer that comes out of the silence. Prayer is to the soul what blood is to the body, Mother Teresa taught. In other words, you cannot begin to do the works of Jesus – or keep his commandments – without prayer.
5
Put simply, there is no Kingdom of God without God. Thus, starting in silence – really, a form of prayer itself--and moving into more formal prayer is like getting a spiritual transfusion every day. Through the Holy Spirit in prayer, the power and creativity of the New Creation courses through our veins, and we come alive.
Out of silence and prayer emerges faith. Faith here does not mean believing what you know isn’t so. Nor does it imply gullibility—a belief in things for which there is no evidence. Genuine faith never has – never will – mean that. As Paul Tillich said, “faith” means “being grasped by a power greater than we are, a power that shakes us and turns us and transforms us and heals us. Surrender to this power is faith.” Thus, faith is the gift of God, an awareness that builds and grows through prayer. When one takes on this attitude of surrender—this faith—all things are possible for the believer (Mt. 17:20).
Being grasped by faith imbues the believer with the most excellent gift of all: the gift of love. “We must be loved by God first,” Mother Teresa contended, “and only then can we give to others. … When you know how much God is in love with you, then you can only live your life, radiating that love.” Does this love mean going to the Third World to serve the poor? Perhaps. But Mother Teresa insisted that this Divine radiance first be directed toward those closest to you: at home, at work, in your own neighborhood and city. She knew how much easier it was to love people “far away” than to love them nearby. Lastly, she said, it isn’t so much what we do as it is the quality of love we put into doing it.
Peace through service ends her list. Mother Teresa quotes Gandhi, who said, “Act, but seek not the fruit of your action.” Service and peace come together when we let go of “results.”
6
The book ends with the following quotation title ANYWAY, taken from a sign on the wall of Shishu Bhavan, the children’s home in Calcutta. It sums up this detachment in service that leads to peace:
“People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. LOVE THEM ANYWAY. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. DO GOOD ANYWAY. If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies. SUCCEED ANYWAY. The good you will do will be forgotten tomorrow. DO GOOD ANYWAY. Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. BE HONEST AND FRANK ANYWAY. What you spent your years building may be destroyed overnight. BUILD ANYWAY. People really need help but may attack you if you help them. HELP PEOPLE ANYWAY. Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth. GIVE THE WORLD THE BEST YOU’VE GOT ANYWAY.”
[from a sermon given at Trinity Church, Marshall, MI, May 17, 1998 by PWA]
May 9, 2010 - Parish of Ss. Peter & Paul
Fr. Phillip Ayers
+++++
We have been celebrating it, really, these past three weeks. I’m speaking of our observance of Earth Day two weeks ago, some hymns last Sunday that focused upon the theme of earthiness, planting and crops, and today, the REAL Rogation Sunday! I imagine that a lot of us here can recall “Rogation Sunday” wherein we might have “beaten the bounds,” by walking around the perimeter of the church, singing something like “O Jesus crowned with all renown,” or “We plough the fields and scatter.” One parish I served did that with horribly tacky wooden slats that were stuck in the churchyard, to which we walked in procession and prayed at each one. I don’t think that there’s any American Episcopal church left that still does that – maybe you know of one though? And, in England, the “parish” had a huge (to us) physical boundary, around which the faithful would walk and sing and pray.
But “Rogation” comes from rogare, a Latin word meaning “to ask.” We get “interrogation” from that root-word. Asking God’s blessing upon the new planting meant a great deal to farmers and those whose lives depended upon work in the soil and God’s times and seasons of rainfall and sunshine. Nowadays, our current Book of Common Prayer leaves this Sunday to the 6th Sunday of the Easter season, with some rich readings from Scripture to ponder, and provides three Collects “for use on the traditional days” – that is, this week – “or at other times.” So, we can “rogate” any time we wish!
The Collects are found on pp. 258-259 in the prayer book and are concerned with fruitful seasons – as of old – commerce and industry, and the stewardship of creation. I love the phrase in the last collect,
2
“Make us always thankful for your loving providence; and grant that we, remembering the account that we must one day give, may be faithful stewards of your good gifts [O God].”
Oh, yes: today, in the secular calendar, it’s Mothers’ Day, dreamed up, I hear, by Hallmark cards. May’s a good time for mothers of all kinds, as “May” is short for “Mary,” and we know about her, don’t we?
Here’s a story about asking. About a century or two ago, the Pope decided that all the Jews had to leave the Vatican. Naturally there was a big uproar form the Jewish community. The Pope made a deal. He would have a religious debate with a member of the Jewish community. If the Pope won, the Jews would have to leave. The Jews realized they had no choice. They chose a middle-aged man named Moishe to represent them. Moishe asked for an addition to the debate—to make it more interesting, neither side would be allowed to talk.
The Pope reluctantly agreed. The day of the great debate came. Moishe and the Pope sat opposite one another for a full minute before the Pope raised his hand and showed three fingers. Moishe looked back at him and raised one finger. The Pope waved his fingers in a circle around his head. Moishe pointed at the ground where he sat. The Pope pulled out a wafer and a glass of wine. Moishe pulled out an apple.
The Pope stood up and said, “I give up. This man is too good. The Jews can stay.”
An hour later, the cardinals were all around the Pope, asking him what happened.
3
The Pope said, “First, I held up three fingers, representing the Trinity. He held up one finger, to remind me there was still one God common to both our religions. Then I waved my fingers around to show him that God was all around us. He responded by pointing to the ground and showing that God was also right here with us. I pulled out the wine and wafer to show that God absolves us from our sins. He pulled out an apple to remind me of original sin. He had an answer for everything! What could I do?
Meanwhile, the Jewish community had crowded around Moishe.
“What happened?” they asked
“Well,” said Moishe, “first, he said to me that we had three days to get out. I told him that not one of us was leaving. Then he said the whole city would be cleared of Jews. I told him we were staying right here.”
“And then?” asked a woman.
“I don’t know,” said Moishe. “He took out his lunch and I took out mine!”
[Pause]
Today presents itself as one of those Sundays when a “step-sermon” might be good. Not simply to indulge you with “sound bites” but because the Gospel reading lends itself to a “how-to” answer. That is, the Christian community faces a question that has endured for two millennia since: “How can disciples have a personal relationship with Jesus when he has gone?”
John’s – the Fourth Gospel’s – Jesus provides two answers to this dilemma.
4
The disciple can continue in a close personal relationship with the Risen Jesus by doing two things: by doing the works of Jesus (14:12-14), and by keeping his commandments (14:15-24).
What does it mean to do the works of Jesus? Walk on water? Multiply loaves? Change water into wine? Heal lepers and raise the dead? Get crucified? Maybe before trying to run the 100-yard dash with the Messiah, we should start out with some baby-steps in “doing the works of Jesus.”
Some teachings by Mother Teresa of Calcutta, compiled in a book by Lucinda Vardy called, A Simple Path, suggest a number of straightforward, yet profound, ways that the seeker can begin to have a close personal relationship with the unseen Christ.
Mother Teresa says to start out your day in silence. Find some silence every day, somewhere, even if it is just for a few minutes. In the silence, be still. Get quiet. Slow down. What follows might seem awkward and wasteful – since time is money – but keep at it. Just as Jesus sought out the silence of the desert to commune with his Abba God, so should we. No, you don’t need a Range Rover to do this. Save time and money: simply go into the “desert” of your “room,” your own quiet space. It is in the quietness of the heart that God speaks, Mother Teresa said, and so we must set aside that time for God alone to encounter us. She adds, “God is the friend of silence.”
Abba “who sees in secret” will reward you (Mt. 6:6), Jesus said; and the reward will be deepened prayer that comes out of the silence. Prayer is to the soul what blood is to the body, Mother Teresa taught. In other words, you cannot begin to do the works of Jesus – or keep his commandments – without prayer.
5
Put simply, there is no Kingdom of God without God. Thus, starting in silence – really, a form of prayer itself--and moving into more formal prayer is like getting a spiritual transfusion every day. Through the Holy Spirit in prayer, the power and creativity of the New Creation courses through our veins, and we come alive.
Out of silence and prayer emerges faith. Faith here does not mean believing what you know isn’t so. Nor does it imply gullibility—a belief in things for which there is no evidence. Genuine faith never has – never will – mean that. As Paul Tillich said, “faith” means “being grasped by a power greater than we are, a power that shakes us and turns us and transforms us and heals us. Surrender to this power is faith.” Thus, faith is the gift of God, an awareness that builds and grows through prayer. When one takes on this attitude of surrender—this faith—all things are possible for the believer (Mt. 17:20).
Being grasped by faith imbues the believer with the most excellent gift of all: the gift of love. “We must be loved by God first,” Mother Teresa contended, “and only then can we give to others. … When you know how much God is in love with you, then you can only live your life, radiating that love.” Does this love mean going to the Third World to serve the poor? Perhaps. But Mother Teresa insisted that this Divine radiance first be directed toward those closest to you: at home, at work, in your own neighborhood and city. She knew how much easier it was to love people “far away” than to love them nearby. Lastly, she said, it isn’t so much what we do as it is the quality of love we put into doing it.
Peace through service ends her list. Mother Teresa quotes Gandhi, who said, “Act, but seek not the fruit of your action.” Service and peace come together when we let go of “results.”
6
The book ends with the following quotation title ANYWAY, taken from a sign on the wall of Shishu Bhavan, the children’s home in Calcutta. It sums up this detachment in service that leads to peace:
“People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. LOVE THEM ANYWAY. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. DO GOOD ANYWAY. If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies. SUCCEED ANYWAY. The good you will do will be forgotten tomorrow. DO GOOD ANYWAY. Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. BE HONEST AND FRANK ANYWAY. What you spent your years building may be destroyed overnight. BUILD ANYWAY. People really need help but may attack you if you help them. HELP PEOPLE ANYWAY. Give the world the best you have and you’ll get kicked in the teeth. GIVE THE WORLD THE BEST YOU’VE GOT ANYWAY.”
[from a sermon given at Trinity Church, Marshall, MI, May 17, 1998 by PWA]
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Know God
5 Easter 2010
(Acts 11: 1-18; Ps 148; Rev 21: 1-6; John 13: 31-35)
What does that mean as prayed today, to “truly know God”?
At my age, I am very careful about saying “I know that person, I know so-and-so.” The people that are closest to me constantly surprise me. My very spouse and kids are books in which I have only read the introduction and part of the first chapters. And others? The longer I serve here, the more surprised I am by people whom I thought I knew. Sometimes I am delighted by what I learn, sometimes I am frustrated, sometimes I am disappointed, and sometimes I am even frightened. So I rarely say that I know a person anymore. I don’t even know myself very well, especially after hitting mid-life!
If it is so hard to know a human person, how can we hope to say we truly know God?
It’s a good question to carry with us, as today we hear a tale of people who thought they knew God, or at least they thought they knew what God thought. The early Christian movement was very Jewish, and content with that. After all, the Master had said that he had not come to abolish the ancient Law, but to fulfill it. The Law made it clear who was in and who was out, and the uncircumcised, pork-eating, idol-worshipping Gentiles were definitely out. This was one of the earliest crises of the post-resurrection Church, as it ran head on into what they thought were the legitimate boundaries of their community, who was in, who was out, who was clean and acceptable, who was by nature and act unclean and unacceptable.
It took a divine vision to get through Peter’s head. A sheet full of everything that should nauseate a good Jew—pigs and snakes and probably prawns—drops from the sky. “Get up, Peter, slaughter, then eat!” There’s nothing abstract here—Peter is told to put aside all his prior knowledge and his revulsion and take something into his body. That’s one way to get to really know something—eat it! Peter answers loyally as he has been taught, as he has been taught to be faithful to God: “Not me!” But the shattering words are said three times, “What God has called clean, you are not to call profane.” When Peter awakes, the Gentile visitors are there to give Peter a chance to live his strange dream, the dream where God thinks differently than Peter had been taught and God is found where Peter did not think to look and God was calling Peter to get over a world of tradition and teaching and prejudice in order to see as God sees, to love whom God loves, to share life and even death with those whom Peter never imagined he would live and die with.
Peter’s colleagues’ amazement shouts through their words, “Then God has granted repentance EVEN to the Gentiles!” If God loves and accepts the Gentiles, what else may this God think and choose and do?
Do we want to know God? Then prepared to be surprised. Prepare to have our prior opinions tested. Prepare for dreams or visions that will lead us to welcome and accept those whom we never imagined us to welcome, to share life with, to live and die with. Because to know God is to look to who God looks, to love who God loves, to allow ourselves to be challenged to welcome wholly those who we never thought we’d welcome. We have been welcomed, so we are to welcome.
And in the Gospel, Jesus reveals the heart of God.
Jesus’ own heart is broken as his disciple and friend Judas leaves to betray him. We must never forget that the heart of God is revealed amidst broken promises and the bitterness of betrayal. It is broken hearts that reveal the love of God. And it is here, when the bond of friendship and love has been broken, that Jesus gives the “new commandment”—“love one another as I have loved you.”
Why is this new? The old Law said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love’s not new.
Maybe it is the second part, “as I have loved you.” It is the love of Jesus that makes this commandment new. We have been called, empowered, freed to love by the love of God in Jesus.
Or is it that we ourselves are transformed and made new when we love?
We do not know God with our ideas. We know God when we accept the amazing love of God. But it does not stop there. We know God as we allow the love of God to transform us to love as God loves. And today we are given a map of how the first Christians learned how to love:
By being open to surprise. To being willing to change what we thought we knew about God, about who we are and who are those whom we did not think we would ever have to love, to accept, to eat with, to live with.
A tiny Jewish sect was surprised and broken open and had their minds changed and began a journey into a new and unexpected life. We are the beneficiaries. We call that new community the church.
How may we be surprised, how may we be broken open, how may our minds be changed, and on what new journey may we set out?
That is how to live that new commandment. That is how we truly know God.
(Acts 11: 1-18; Ps 148; Rev 21: 1-6; John 13: 31-35)
What does that mean as prayed today, to “truly know God”?
At my age, I am very careful about saying “I know that person, I know so-and-so.” The people that are closest to me constantly surprise me. My very spouse and kids are books in which I have only read the introduction and part of the first chapters. And others? The longer I serve here, the more surprised I am by people whom I thought I knew. Sometimes I am delighted by what I learn, sometimes I am frustrated, sometimes I am disappointed, and sometimes I am even frightened. So I rarely say that I know a person anymore. I don’t even know myself very well, especially after hitting mid-life!
If it is so hard to know a human person, how can we hope to say we truly know God?
It’s a good question to carry with us, as today we hear a tale of people who thought they knew God, or at least they thought they knew what God thought. The early Christian movement was very Jewish, and content with that. After all, the Master had said that he had not come to abolish the ancient Law, but to fulfill it. The Law made it clear who was in and who was out, and the uncircumcised, pork-eating, idol-worshipping Gentiles were definitely out. This was one of the earliest crises of the post-resurrection Church, as it ran head on into what they thought were the legitimate boundaries of their community, who was in, who was out, who was clean and acceptable, who was by nature and act unclean and unacceptable.
It took a divine vision to get through Peter’s head. A sheet full of everything that should nauseate a good Jew—pigs and snakes and probably prawns—drops from the sky. “Get up, Peter, slaughter, then eat!” There’s nothing abstract here—Peter is told to put aside all his prior knowledge and his revulsion and take something into his body. That’s one way to get to really know something—eat it! Peter answers loyally as he has been taught, as he has been taught to be faithful to God: “Not me!” But the shattering words are said three times, “What God has called clean, you are not to call profane.” When Peter awakes, the Gentile visitors are there to give Peter a chance to live his strange dream, the dream where God thinks differently than Peter had been taught and God is found where Peter did not think to look and God was calling Peter to get over a world of tradition and teaching and prejudice in order to see as God sees, to love whom God loves, to share life and even death with those whom Peter never imagined he would live and die with.
Peter’s colleagues’ amazement shouts through their words, “Then God has granted repentance EVEN to the Gentiles!” If God loves and accepts the Gentiles, what else may this God think and choose and do?
Do we want to know God? Then prepared to be surprised. Prepare to have our prior opinions tested. Prepare for dreams or visions that will lead us to welcome and accept those whom we never imagined us to welcome, to share life with, to live and die with. Because to know God is to look to who God looks, to love who God loves, to allow ourselves to be challenged to welcome wholly those who we never thought we’d welcome. We have been welcomed, so we are to welcome.
And in the Gospel, Jesus reveals the heart of God.
Jesus’ own heart is broken as his disciple and friend Judas leaves to betray him. We must never forget that the heart of God is revealed amidst broken promises and the bitterness of betrayal. It is broken hearts that reveal the love of God. And it is here, when the bond of friendship and love has been broken, that Jesus gives the “new commandment”—“love one another as I have loved you.”
Why is this new? The old Law said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love’s not new.
Maybe it is the second part, “as I have loved you.” It is the love of Jesus that makes this commandment new. We have been called, empowered, freed to love by the love of God in Jesus.
Or is it that we ourselves are transformed and made new when we love?
We do not know God with our ideas. We know God when we accept the amazing love of God. But it does not stop there. We know God as we allow the love of God to transform us to love as God loves. And today we are given a map of how the first Christians learned how to love:
By being open to surprise. To being willing to change what we thought we knew about God, about who we are and who are those whom we did not think we would ever have to love, to accept, to eat with, to live with.
A tiny Jewish sect was surprised and broken open and had their minds changed and began a journey into a new and unexpected life. We are the beneficiaries. We call that new community the church.
How may we be surprised, how may we be broken open, how may our minds be changed, and on what new journey may we set out?
That is how to live that new commandment. That is how we truly know God.
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