Posted by stpauls on May 31, 2009 under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog | 
John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15 ~ Gospel reading for May 31, 2009
Jesus said to his disciples, “When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who comes from the Father, he will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning. I did not say these things to you from the beginning, because I was with you. But, now I am going to him who sent me; yet none of you asks me, `Where are you going?’ But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts. Nevertheless I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. And when he comes, he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment: about sin, because they do not believe in me; about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer; about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned. I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”
Acts 2:1-21 ~ 2nd reading for May 31, 2009
When the day of Pentecost had come, the disciples were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs– in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel: `In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy. And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist. The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day. Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”
Posted by Priest on under Sermons |
I have a confession to make. Shhh! Don’t tell anybody. It’s a secret: But, yes, I have a tattoo. I am one of those GenX-ers who had his skin permanently inked. It’s nothing unique, I know. In fact, during a discussion on an email list for GenX Anglican clergy, i.e. Anglican priests and deacons born between 1965 and 1985, a multitude of my sister and brother clergy admitted they either already had tattoos or were thinking about getting one.
I have had my tattoo for well over eight years – and I have yet to see the day I regret getting it. For most of my youth, however, I never dreamed of acquiring any body modification. No, that is just not me, I thought. And while I still cannot see myself being pierced or branded, my opinion about tattoos has obviously changed. It took a while, though. Yet, when I finally entered a tattoo parlour, I knew exactly what I wanted to get.
You know the design. It graced the cover of our bulletin a few weeks ago. (Little did you know how sneaky I can be, eh?) Do you remember?
At the beginning of May, we celebrated Earth Day here at St. Paul’s with a liturgy and music from the Iona Community in Scotland. The Iona Community was founded in the last century by Scottish Presbyterian minister George MacLeod. It was originally centred on the isle of Iona, one of the cradles of Scottish Christianity. St. Columba landed there some 1600 years ago to preach the Gospel to the Picts. Today, the Community is an international, ecumenical Christian fellowship committed to sharing the good news of God in Christ by word, prayer, and action, by teaching the love of our triune God in the Celtic tradition, by proclaiming and celebrating God’s healing love for all, and by manifesting God’s love through peace-building, justice-work, and advocating for the preservation of creation.
Using liturgical material from Iona to advocate for eco-justice in the Christian context wasn’t just a coincidence. There is a prophetic edge to the Iona Community, which often stirs up controversy, unsettles the comfortable, messes up idyllic perceptions of reality, disturbs the current order, questions preconceived notions of the truth, and puts on edge the high and mighty, those who advocate for the status quo. The people of the Iona Community are definitely trouble-makers!
Some time ago, the Community chose as their symbol my tattoo. I’m sorry, it was the other way round. I picked as my tattoo a symbol used by the Iona Community: A Celtic wild goose. You recall? It is in your bulletin again, on page 19.
The wild goose is an ancient metaphor used in the Celtic world for the Holy Spirit. And I love this symbol!!! (Otherwise I wouldn’t have had it inked on my left arm for all prosperity!) I love it, because there is something profoundly true about using a wild goose as a symbol for God’s Holy Spirit, even though it is a peculiar and non-biblical symbol.
Most of the times in Christian art, the Holy Spirit is depicted as a dove. It is right here on my stole. We find the Spirit described as fire, too, which is based on today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles. But an overwhelming majority of paintings, stained-glass windows, sculptures etc. feature the Holy Spirit shown as a dove. And if you look around here at St. Paul’s, I wonder how many doves you can spot…
Of course, there is scriptural precedence for this: At the baptism of Jesus, the Spirit descended upon him “like a dove.”1 But, isn’t it interesting? It doesn’t say the Holy Spirit is a dove. It says: The Spirit descended “like a dove.” Yet, we have made the Spirit a dove and I wonder, if the prominence of the dove in our depictions of the Spirit speak much more of our conscious and subconscious desires to tame the Holy Spirit. The biblical witness, however, is full of imagery that is quite different from that of a gentle dove.
Just look at today’s text from Acts again: The apostles encounter a noise, like a violent wind, a violent wind that drags them out of their hiding places, to which they had fled, overcome, once again, by fear. The Holy Spirit then descends upon them, not like a dove, but like tongues of burning fire, as She pulls them with force forward into the light and into the future. The Holy Spirit ain’t so gentle when you consider what She did to the poor apostles today! You can almost see them kicking and hear them screaming as the divine fire takes hold of them, setting them ablaze with heavenly flames. They will be marked forever! Nothing will remain the same! Their eyes will see a new reality, an upside-down reality. For the disciples, the old order, the order of this world, has been consumed for ever.
And this is why I love the image of the wild goose. It goes along with this prophetic revelation.
I suspect most of you have encountered wild geese. They are far from being gentle or peaceful creatures. But wild geese are disturbing and loud, everything but gentle. They make a mess of our carefully manicured front yards – quite literally. And they have this rather unpleasant habit of biting you, sometimes right in the tush. And it hurts!
Not unlike the Holy Spirit!
She too has a tendency to nip us in the behind, so that we get off our rear and leave darkness, fear, and complacency behind. She too makes a mess of our gardens, of the world that we so carefully create to keep things in order, to keep life in check, and to never get pushed beyond our comfort-zone. She too disturbs our lives, upsets our power-games, and reminds us that we are fools to think we are in charge and can just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride!
The Spirit sets us ablaze with the darkness-consuming fire of the Divine Love, so that we may love back with all that we are and all that we have, so that we may spread this very fire to the ends of the earth. The Spirit utters prophetic words of truth, so that we may finally recognize the injustice we create and the strife we foster. The Spirit opens our eyes to see and grasp the beauty that God created us to be and to recognize what God expects of us.
And it hurts to be nipped in back. It hurts to be confronted with the places in our lives that keep us from living deeper into the mystery of God. It hurts to see the reality of the world’s oppressions and wars held up to us as in a mirror. It hurts to realize that we, like the apostles, have a tendency to lock ourselves away from the world, despite its desperate need for healing and despite its constant search for meaning.
Today’s feast is no easy feat. It is a day when things change for the apostles – and for us. No longer is it just about us. But today, the Spirit pulls us out of our darkness. Today is the church’s coming out to find her true identity. And all of us here in the West End know how scary and how painful a “coming out” can be. But once you have done it, once you have come out of whatever closet you might have been hiding in, freedom and life in abundance await.
This is exactly what the apostles experienced on that first Pentecost: The Spirit pushed, pulled, and dragged them out of their closet, out of their darkness and fear, to be God’s agents in the world. The disciples – and we with them – are thrown into the world, not to condemn or to judge it, not to be better or superior, but to be agents of hope and compassion, agents of truth and redemption, agents of justice and peace, and agents of eternal and abundant love, which we have experienced in the Spirit already.
My tattoo is a constant reminder that the Spirit will not leave me alone – not when I need Her to be comforted and held close in Her bosom and not when She needs me to do the work God has given me to do. The Spirit really does not leave me alone. And the Spirit does not leave you alone either! As difficult as it may be to have our peace disturbed by God’s Spirit, in the end, it is good indeed, good for us, and good for all of creation.
Oh. And just in case you wondered: I am thinking about getting my second tattoo, but that’s for another sermon…
[1] Matthew 3:16, Mark 1:10, Luke 3:22
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on the Day of Pentecost, Sunday, May 31, 2009.]
Posted by stpauls on May 25, 2009 under Contributors, Webmaster Blog |
In David Wolfe and Nick Good’s book, Amazing Grace, which I have just finished reading, they quote the whole of Psalm 21, describing the fact that men and women in Vietnam who read Psalm 21 every day felt divinely protected.
You who live in the shelter of the Most High,
who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,
will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust.’
For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
and from the deadly pestilence;
he will cover you with his pinions,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness is a shield and buckler.
You will not fear the terror of the night,
or the arrow that flies by day,
or the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
or the destruction that wastes at noonday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only look with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
Because you have made the Lord your refuge,
the Most High your dwelling-place,
no evil shall befall you,
no scourge come near your tent.
For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways.
On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.
You will tread on the lion and the adder,
the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.
Those who love me, I will deliver;
I will protect those who know my name.
When they call to me, I will answer them;
I will be with them in trouble,
I will rescue them and honour them.
With long life I will satisfy them,
and show them my salvation.
When I read that Psalm, it rang with resonance and then I realised why it is so familiar – it is the basis for Michael Joncas’ hymn that we sing quite often at St. Paul’s, “On Eagle’s Wings.”
Debbie Lanigan loves Michael Crawford’s rendition of “On Eagle’s Wings” and so here it is.
Debbie also tells me of a legend about the mother eagle who, when she is teaching her eaglets to fly, will fly just below them so she can catch them with her wings if they fall. This hymn references that legend, comparing God to the mother eagle who will not let her chicks fall.
Nina, Webmaster
Posted by stpauls on under Webmaster Blog |
It is always a very special time when a person is baptized in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit into the Christian community. And it’s even more special when that person is an adult.
Charles signs Conrad's Baptismal Certificate
Conrad Callihoo was baptized in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit into the Christian community at St. Paul’s Anglican Church on April 12, 2009 at the 9:00 a.m. on Easter Sunday.
Rector Markus Dünzkofer (left) and Conrad Callihoo hold Conrad's Baptismal Certificate
His Baptism Certificate was signed by the members of St. Paul’s congregation on May 3, 2009, and presented to him by the Rector Markus Dünzkofer on the same day.
Posted by Priest on May 24, 2009 under Sermons |
During my time in seminary in Illinois, I was able to do an internship at an Episcopal campus ministry. I had a great time, not just because the students on campus were not really that much younger than me, but also because campus ministry is a unique way to be present and to provide a spiritual anchor in the life of young adults during tumultuous, and sometimes distressing years. And, yes, it was a lot of fun too.
One way of keeping our ministry interesting was to connect with other Episcopal campus ministries from around the U.S. Midwest. We would gather for worship, for study, for formation, and for significant social time – wink, wink, nudge, nudge! But it really wasn’t just all fun and games. Each of these regional campus ministry events had a theme and all the workshops were geared to focus somewhat on the theme. I do not remember all the titles, but one event’s theme stuck with me: “The Episcopal Church welcomes you – now what?”
It is a curious title, methinks, but it is a title that, slightly altered, could fit today’s reading from John: Welcome to resurrection-life – now what?
Let me explain this a wee bit.
The last few months have been quite amazing, filled with all sorts of events. Starting with Ash Wednesday, we entered on a journey that took us into the depth of the human experience. And not just the human experience!
Six weeks later, we gathered with people of Jerusalem to wave palms, to sing “Hosanna!”, to welcome the King of kings and Lord of lords, and to honour him as the Christ, the Messiah, the incarnate love of God.
A few days after this, we washed each other’s feet and broke the bread as we heeded Christ’s call to love and serve one another just as he loved and just as he served.
Then we witnessed how quickly public opinion can change, and how a mob mentality can turn: On Good Friday, we listened once more to the ancient accounts that reported of the arrest, the trial, the torture and the ultimate death of Christ. For a few hours, we paused to consider the implications of the events of the day for our lives and for the life of the world. As we heard of betrayal and failure, we remembered that God, unlike the disciples, does not desert the down-trodden, the marginalized, or the forsaken, but lifts up the lowly, redeems those who are broken, restores the wounded, and raises the dead. As we stood with Mary, the Mother of God, who refused to abandon her son in his darkest hour, we remembered that God, in dying for us, refuses to abandon us in our darkest hours. As we watch the body of Christ laid in the tomb, we joined the women of Calvary, and all those throughout the ages, who mourn, or grieve, or suffer.
Yet, the love of God cannot be locked in a tomb forever. God’s love-song cannot be silenced. Death cannot hold the incarnate love of God indefinitely. Three days after his crucifixion, on the first Easter morning, Christ burst from forth from the grave and rose again. Easter is the beginning of a new reality: It is the death of death itself. It is the overthrow of the powers and dominions that rebel against our living God. It is the destruction of everything that seeks to separate us from God’s indiscriminate love and abundant compassion. It is the end of those forces that want to harm us and that whisper lies into our hearts and souls of our supposed death, of our supposed unworthiness, and of supposed insignificance. Easter marks a new era that celebrates life with gusto and abundance, and that offers eternal love and indiscriminate compassion for each and every one of us, whoever we are and wherever we find ourselves on the journey.
And for the last 42 days, we have heard of the encounters of the Risen One with his disciples. We have seen how the Easter message not only witnesses to the risen life of Christ, but also how Easter brought about new life in the disciples, brought about healing in Jesus’ friends. For the last six weeks, it’s been a journey of discovery and re-discovery of God’s love song for each and every one of us. And we have celebrated! “This is the feast of victory of our God” Every Sunday at the 11:00 a.m. service, we sang this hymn as we broke the Bread of Life and shared the Cup of Salvation. “This is the feast!” This is the feast indeed!
Finally, last Thursday, a mere three days ago, some of us gathered at 11:15 a.m. to celebrate the feast of the Ascension, when Jesus was taken from our visible reality into God’s invisible reality. It was the final chapter of this wonderful feast. It was as if we had indeed partied with a newly-wed couple all through the night – and had done so with overflowing joy and with zest. Then, we were like those leading bride and groom from the wedding banquet to see them off on their honeymoon. We had still been drunk with the new wine of the resurrection, had songs of joy in our hearts and on our lips, as we waved good-bye. And then, after He had departed, despite the joy that we had experienced, we had looked at each other and said: And now what?
Now what?
Today’s Gospel account comes at a critical moment in the Gospel according to John. We find ourselves at the end of a discourse that some commentators have called “Jesus’ farewell speech.” And indeed, just seven verses later, John’s account of Jesus’ passion and death fully kicks into gear. These are Jesus’ final words before his descent into the darkness of Good Friday. These are the words, which, despite being a prayer to God, are really part of a speech by Jesus to the disciples, who, were it not for the tragic circumstances of their master’s death, could have easily asked the same question when Jesus was taken from them: Now what?
After three years, all of a sudden they found themselves on the edge of a cliff, and their questions, doubts, and griefs were pushing them closer to the abyss. After three years of Jesus calling them out of darkness into light, out of death into life, they did not know what would come next. Now what? And Jesus promises them that they would not be abandoned.
Yet, we have also to realize that the words from the Gospel are probably not really literal Jesus’ words to the disciples. John records these words not really to give a historically accurate account. But these are words meant to build up the community gathered to listen to John. These words have a specific target-audience: John’s church. Yes, the Gospel texts are inspired by God’s Holy Spirit, but not as historical truth as we define it. But they are divinely inspired, because they reveal theological truth for a particular setting. It is not in the accuracy of the historical account, but it is in the relevance for the community, that God speaks. And the community to whom John speaks today, is a community that had been deeply changed by God’s love made so radically manifest in Jesus Christ, and that was at the same time looking into the future. The words of Jesus in today’s text are not really meant as a past experience, but they are meant to equip the saints for the years to come. These are the words that could easily be seen as the answer to the question: “Now what?”
It is in this context that today’s text becomes important for us too. Surely, John wanted to emphasize that the disciples had been blessed by Jesus in a special way. John equally wanted to stress that his community, his target audience, was under God’s special protection in the face of looming dangers. And through John, God reveals also that God’s care for Christ’s church neither stopped with the first apostles, nor ended with John’s community. It is extended to us, to all of us, even little Kensea, who will be baptised into this care, this protection, this blessing later today.
Yet, John does not stop there. John goes on. John goes on as he gives us a job description. “Now what?” you ask. “Well, I will tell you!” says John. It is almost right at the end of today’s text. Jesus prays: “As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.”1 There it is!
Yes, the church is the place that celebrates love and offers healing for all. Yes, the church is where we can find relief and redemption. Yes, the church offers sanctuary and embraces us with God’s compassion. Here, you can come to be held and protected. Here, soothing oil will be poured on your wounds. Here, darkness and death in our lives are vanquished. The walls of our sacred space hold our tears and our prayers. The baptismal waters in our font drown the powers of evil. And our altar offers us the abundance and the goodness of God’s love for us to taste and see over and over and over again. But it does not end here.
Now what?
There is a world waiting outside for us. There is a world waiting for healing and searching for meaning. There is a world that is yearning for us to lift up the downtrodden; to bring forth justice and peace; to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and house the homeless; to invite home those on the margins; to bind up the broken-hearted, the lonely and the bereft; to offer salvation to dying souls and to reveal God’s life-giving presence already at work.
Now what?
William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury from 1942 to 1944, once said:
“The church is the only organization that exists for the benefit of its non-members.”
So then: Now is the time to roll up our sleeves and work for the building up of God’s city. Now is the time to get going with tending God’s vineyard. Now is the time to show our gratefulness for God’s unimaginable love for us by helping to establish God’s reign of justice and peace. Now is the time – for God’s sake, for our sake, and for the sake of the world.
[1] John 17, 18
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on Sunday, May 24, 2009.]
Posted by stpauls on under Staff Blog |
John 17:6-19 ~ Gospel reading for May 24, 2009
Looking up to heaven, Jesus prayed, “I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; for the words that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them. And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one. While I was with them, I protected them in your name that you have given me. I guarded them, and not one of them was lost except the one destined to be lost, so that the scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to you, and I speak these things in the world so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth.”
Posted by stpauls on May 23, 2009 under Labyrinth, Webmaster Blog |
It must be summer at last!
Les Blydo has offered to create sand labyrinths for St. Paul’s Labyrinth.
At Spanish Banks, near the East Spanish Banks Café
Anyone interested in watching or assisting the creation of the labyrinth should come anytime after an hour or two before the walking time. Les will provide a commentary as he works.
Dress for the weather and for walking through shallow water and tide pools.
Directions to the sand labyrinth:
- Download a sand labyrinth map here.
- Find the Spanish Banks East concession stand
- Follow along the walking path away from downtown
- Look for 2.5 ft. x 3 ft. signs by the side of the path saying “Labyrinth Walk”
- Leave the path and walk towards the water in the direction indicated on the sign.
- Cross the beach and the high tide water mark and continue walking down the beach moving toward the low tide water level. The labyrinth will be located between the high and low tide water levels and will have another “Labyrinth Walk” sign beside it.
Dates for Future Sand Labyrinths at the Same Location:
- June 20, 2009 10:30 a.m. – 12:30 p.m.
- July 4, 2009 11:00 a.m. – 1:00 p.m.
- July 25, 2009 2:30 p.m. – 4:30 p.m.
- August 8, 2009 1:30 p.m. – 3:30 p.m.
- August 22, 2009 1:30 p.m. – 3:30 p.m.
Posted by stpauls on May 21, 2009 under Staff Blog |
Unfortunately and to our regret, Lawrence Hoeppner had to resign from the position of homeless outreach worker due to health reasons. He will remain with the Advocacy Office for a while as a volunteer and at a future date we will celebrate his time with us.
We, however, are pleased to announce that a replacement for this important ministry has been found: Adam King will be starting to work with the Advocacy Office as soon as we finalize details. Welcome Adam!
Posted by Priest on under Sermons |
For many of our Christians sisters and brothers, Ascension Day comes and goes, with it hardly being noticed. Surely, it is an important feast day, but it doesn’t quite compare to Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost. It feels more like an add-on, that is mentioned in the creed, but that many could do without.
Add to it the fact that this day has been dominated by a medieval cosmology that placed heaven firmly in the sky and hell distinctly below us, in the underworld, and one can understand that Ascension Day might be a hard sell for many of our contemporaries. Many just can no longer believe what can still be witnessed annually in some central European churches as a statue of the risen Christ on a rope being pulled through a hole in the ceiling. I cannot blame those who shake their heads in disbelief at us, when they hear of the Ascension. If the message of Ascension Day is indeed nothing more than some metaphysical spectacle that sees Jesus take a celestial elevator to go up into heaven to be with the Father, then I really think we are missing the point.
I have been thinking about this feast day for quite a while now. I have been thinking about it, because, about seven weeks ago, I was bugged by an odd thought: Why is it that Ascension is a joyous occasion? After all, Jesus is gone. Yet again!
When we are faced with the death of a friend or a relative, it is the fact that we can no longer see and engage the person any more that is most devastating. As Christians, we do believe that the dead rest with God and are embraced by God’s love. But this comfort only goes so far. Even Jesus wept for his friend Lazarus – despite the fact that he must have known that Lazarus was not lost for ever. It is the separation that is most devastating.
And this is why, if you think about it, Ascension might not sound all that cheerful. The disciples and family members of Jesus had to go through the separation from Jesus – again. They had to say their goodbyes not just once, but twice. First, there was the gruesome, horrific death on a lone and dark Friday morning. And then Jesus is taken from them again – granted, in a nicer way, but still: Jesus is ripped from among their fellowship, from among their community, from among their love.
How cruel is this? What kind of God would do this to somebody twice? And, why on earth, does Luke record that the disciples were joyous after Jesus had left them?
I have been wrestling with this for the past six weeks, and I have to admit, there are no easy answers. Or, I should be more specific. There are no easy answers (maybe even no answers at all) for our post-modern and post-post-modern sensibilities, if we look for explanations only in that part of heaven, that is separated from us and our reality in the here and now. If we limit heaven to a place away from our created world, we will not get any answers to the questions I posed, and maybe not even to the meaning of today’s feast itself.
But ever since God became one of us in Jesus, walked our ways, talked our language, listened to our words, restored us to our rightful inheritance, healed our bodies, minds and souls, and embraced us with a love too deep for words, ever since God’s coming among us in human flesh, heaven is not limited to a place we cannot access. Heaven has spilled over and extended its reality into our reality, into our here and now.
The answer to my conundrum is in the question itself. What on earth makes the disciples so happy? That’s it: What “on earth”? indeed!
Yes, on that first Ascension Day, Jesus did advance into a reality different from creation. And one day, if we continue on the Way (cf Acts of the Apostles), we will follow Jesus into this reality. This is indeed a reason for joy and happiness beyond imagination.
But the deeper and much more profound and challenging meaning of the Ascension is this: Not only did Jesus enter heaven, but heaven entered the disciples. Jesus did not abandon them, but Jesus remained with them, his presence entered their hearts and souls. On Ascension Day, the Risen One did not leave them, but he stayed in the love they had for each other. It was not a goodbye. It was a recognition, a revelation, a welcome of the new and different, but equally real presence of the Risen Christ in those around them, and in their fellow man and woman.
This is why I believe that the feast of the Ascension is so important to who we are as followers of Christ Jesus, our Lord. Because Ascension, no indeed the whole of the Christian message, challenges us to journey not only with Jesus towards the heaven that will allow us to finally meet God face to face. But Ascension, our faith, challenges us also to discover how God’s heaven has already taken habitation in those around us and in the one who looks back at us in the mirror. The revelation of God’s will for all creation is not just about a reconciled relationship with our triune God. It is also and equally about community with one another and the discovery of the beauty that is in us. It is about celebrating heaven that awaits us and heaven that already lives in every human being, even the ones we struggle with. It is about yearning for the glory of God in the highest and it is about empowering the glory even in the least of our sisters and brothers.
If we miss or neglect one part of this equation, we miss or neglect the fullness of our faith, and we miss and neglect the message revealed on the feast of Ascension.
May this feast enable us to embrace heaven in its fullness with all that we are and all that we have. Amen.
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on Ascension Day, Thursday, May 21, 2009.]
Posted by Priest on May 17, 2009 under Sermons |
God is love! God loves us! God loves every single one of us all the time and in every place!
[Markus then stepped outside the pulpit and some of the more unruly members of the congregation started to applause – and then he came back!]
Well, I guess some of you were hoping this really was the end of the sermon. But not quite. Sorry. Though, it is awfully tempting after hearing the lessons this morning to do just that: To get into this pulpit and proclaim what the readings are all about – even if it only takes three sentences. And it is not just today’s readings. In fact, this is the core of the Christian faith, this is at the heart of the message of Jesus Christ, at the heart of God himself: “God is love and God loves every one of us!” It is not just a simplistic statement. But it is what God’s self-revelation to us is all about: It is all about love.
And I wish this would be all I have to say. But it isn’t quite this simple, right? Or I should say, we don’t quite understand it that easily…
For one, I know how inflationary the word “love” has become. “I love you” is something we hear a lot. But do we mean what we say? Do we even understand what we say? Has “love” become so common-place, that it has lost its profound meaning? In all the consumerism around us that tries to sell “love” and love-products in all forms and shapes, can we grasp the depth of love, of loving, and of being loved? Are we not rather confusing other things for “love”?
And then, on the other hand, there seems to be a vast absence of love in our world. It is hard to speak of love when we come to church walking by people living on the streets amidst the abundance of one of the richest countries in the world. Equally, Afghanistan, the Middle East, the gang violence in our own cities do not point to an over-abundance of love. Quite the contrary! And of course, there are so many personal stories of betrayal, of pain and hurt, of hate and mistrust: Every day of every week literally dozens of people come to this church to walk our Labyrinth, to seek assistance from our Advocacy Office, or to sit down in my office, moved to come by their own experiences of agony and despair. Not just on Sundays or during midweek services, people come here to this place set apart for encounters with the living God in order to shed tears, to weep, and to seek solace and healing.
And in all this profound need, the voice of love seems to go unheard, seems to have drowned; which happens so easily in a world that has trivialized the most powerful force in the cosmos and that has dished out so much darkness and despair, so much judgment and contempt that many do not and cannot feel the love that wills to touch us and that wills to restore us. The hurt is so big that many cannot hear the words of love or cannot believe that they are loveable too. And many others just don’t trust the love revealed on the pages of our Holy Scriptures, revealed through the lives of our sisters and brothers, or revealed by God in the darkest corners of our hearts.
Even the church seems to be afraid of “love” at times. How often have you heard Christian ministers talk of the love of God? A lot? Good for you. But how often have you heard these very Christian ministers talk about the love of God, to only then continue to stress our sinfulness and our ineptness by teaching about the things we have to do first, the things we have to change before God can really love us?
The church has an ambiguous track-record when it comes to trusting God’s love. We don’t trust that God really knows what He is doing. Why else would we try to control whom and what God loves, try to declare who is loveable in the eyes of God and who is not? We really aren’t so sure about this freely gifted gift of love that seeks to penetrate every fibre of our being. And so we hold back. We hold back in our love for one another, we hold back in proclaiming God’s love with the abundance it deserves, we hold back in joining God’s love-song for all creation, and we hold back in sharing our resources, all of our resources, with those who manifest God’s love in their ministry and mission.
Now, I could easily continue condemning all those of my brothers and sisters who stand in the pulpit and preach about our fallen and corrupt state of affairs and who point out how we fall short of the love of God. 
But I just did the same thing. I just fell short of the love of God by pointing at them – and by pointing at you, as I pressed you to give more, to pledge more of who you are and what you own. Yet, I did not do this in an encouraging way, I did it in a way that condemns, that points a finger. And I realize how the proverbial three fingers are pointing back at me.
Yes, this place needs more of our time, talent, and treasure. But giving should never be an act of dutiful obligation, but should be a symbol of gratitude for and delight in the manifestation of God’s love here in this place, which is indeed plenteous and bountiful. Equally, it is true that we are all sinners in need of redemption by our Lord Jesus Christ. But returning to God because of fear, because of guilt, or because of being shamed into submission will never fully allow us to be the ones God intends us to be. God’s compassion for us is beyond our imagination and enwraps us not despite of who or what we are, but because of it.
So, let’s try this again. Let’s rewind and take the message of today’s reading really to heart. How did I start this?
God is love! God loves us! God loves every single one of us all the time and in every place!
And God’s love is closer, is more intimate, is more integral to us than our heart beat. God loves the world so much that God became one of us in Jesus Christ. In Jesus, God walked our ways, listened to our concerns, healed the sick, embraced the marginalized, took us all by our hands, and lit, among us, in the midst of our hearts, the never-ending flame of love that consumes all our darkness, all our pain, and all our fear. God so loved the world that in Jesus Christ God’s incarnate love even died a human death, experiencing our darkest night, our loneliness, and our despair. Yet, God’s love cannot be killed, cannot remain locked in a tomb forever. God’s love was raised from death and God’s love song continues – forever.
God is love! God loves us! God loves every single one of us all the time and in every place!
And there is nothing we can do to change this! Neither is there anything we need to do to bring about God’s love! “Being loved” is not something I can force on God as much as I cannot force it in another person. And I cannot make God stop loving me either, and not just in an abstract way, but in a very concrete way. The simple fact is this: God loves me. Period. God loves Markus Dünzkofer, warts and all. And God loves you, loves who you are, whoever you are.
We are all worthy of God’s love, we all deserve it. I believe that the evil voices that tell us otherwise are not of God, but ultimately they are the voices of the Devil, the great deceiver and liar. But God created us in God’s image and delights in us because of it. Every one of us is an image of the triune God.
As we walk down the street we encounter God’s face in the many people we pass, the people in our alleys and on our streets, the people on our highways and our byways. And remember, every time you look into a mirror, you look into the face of one created in the image of God, you look into the eyes of a beloved child of God. God’s love is greater than we can fathom or imagine. God pours out love over us constantly like soothing oil, whether we know it or not. And God gives God’s love freely to each and every one of us individually, without any condition attached. God loves us for our sake – and for love’s sake.
God is love! God loves us! God loves every single one of us all the time and in every place!
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on Sunday, May 17, 2009.]
