Let's Get Physical

Sermon from April 22, 2012

(Easter 3 – Year B)

Luke 24: 36-48

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In 1981, Olivia Newton-John had a famous song, a song entitled “Physical.”

“Physical” evokes a time of a renewed interest in physical fitness, as well as interest in leg warmers and pastel spandex, as Olivia sings:

Let’s get physical, physical.

I want to get physical.

Let me hear your body talk.

And in the Gospel of Luke, the risen Jesus gets physical, really physical.

His risen body of flesh and bones talks and walks into rooms and asks for a piece of fish to eat. 

After Easter, the risen Jesus is not just some ghost or purely spiritual being.

After Easter, the risen Jesus has a physical body.

When I listen to Christians speak about death, I hear some people talk about how their souls will go to heaven and their bodies will cease to exist ever again.

Yet this is not a scriptural understanding of the resurrection of the body.

Just as Jesus receives a new and re-created body in his resurrection,

We also receive a new and re-created body in the resurrection of the dead.

This resurrection of the physical body is even proclaimed in the Old Testament.

In Ezekiel, the Spirit of the Lord breathes new life into dry bones.

And dead bones take new flesh and new skin and new bodies, as they become a new creation.

In the New Testament, in the 15^th chapter of Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes about the resurrection of the body.

The Apostle Paul proclaims that the resurrection of the body is a mystery, as our bodies become a new creation.

Both Ezekiel and Paul sing about resurrection:

Let’s get physical.

I want to get physical.

Let me hear your body talk. 

Sometimes I wonder:

What will my resurrection body look like?

First of all, I don’t think it would be too much to ask of the Holy Spirit to breathe into my old bones and to restore me with a full head of hair.

And other than the full hair of my youth, I would like for the Holy Spirit to order up a combination of George Clooney and Brad Pitt for my resurrection body.

Certainly in the resurrection of my body, I can receive 6-pack abs and a squared jaw of power.

Yet in the resurrection of the body, I’m afraid that the Holy Spirit is less concerned with giving me a body that will look good on the red carpet.

I believe that the Spirit is more concerned with the resurrected Body of Christ, a physical body that can walk and talk and ask for a piece of broiled fish, today.

And if you want a glimpse of what a resurrected body looks like, it will probably not look like a celebrity on Dancing with the Stars.

If you want a glimpse of what a resurrected body looks like, then just look around this room.

For we are the Church.

We are the Body of Christ.

We are the resurrected body that walks and talks and eats pieces of broiled fish.

So let’s get physical.

When I was a child, being a Christian seemed purely otherworldly and spiritual.

Sure, I knew stories from the Bible from Sunday school.

Yet my faith had not been embodied, my faith had not been fleshed out into something physical.

However, I think that I have told you before that, on one occasion, my little church youth group took a “field trip” to the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in Houston.

Church of the Redeemer was on fire with the Holy Spirit.

And that fire of the Spirit took hold of many of us kids and breathed new life into our own youth group.

Our youth group was quite unusual, in that most of us did not go to school together.

There were at least 5 different high schools represented by the teenagers in our group.

Yet the Holy Spirit breathed new life into us who were rivals - and made us into a new creation.

We became a resurrected community, a body that was made up of an unlikely assortment of jocks, band nerds, druggies, cheerleaders and misfits.

New life was breathed into our bones and new flesh appeared.

Some of us started a brand new Sunday evening worship service at our church, completely led by the youth.

I remember that an adult walked into that worship service one evening and saw an assortment of 40 teenagers gathered around the altar in prayer.

And this adult exclaimed:

“This is what it looks like to be the Body of Christ.”

When 40 youth get physical,

When 40 youth are bound together by Jesus Christ, all receiving the Body of Christ,

Then we see what the physical, resurrected body of Jesus looks like.

You see, the Church is not a social club.

We are not only concerned about lofty spiritual matters.

We are the physical, resurrected Body of Christ.

So let’s get physical.

Let me hear the body talk –

Let me hear the body talk and walk and feed and breathe new life into the world.

For in the resurrected body of Christ, in the Church, we do not just talk about peace and hope and love, as if they are concepts.

In the resurrected body of the church, we get physical - and we walk through walls to proclaim:

“Peace be with you!”

And we proclaim peace in our worship, by exchanging the peace with all sorts and conditions of people.

And we proclaim peace outside of worship, by being agents of peace and justice in the world instead of agents of competition and violence.

In the resurrected body of Christ, we do not just talk about hunger and thirst and scarcity of human resources.

In the resurrected body of the Church, we get physical - and we give pieces of broiled fish and bread to the hungry.

We feed in worship by offering the bread of heaven, the Body of Christ, to all.

And we feed outside of worship, by tangibly giving, giving, giving to those in who are hungry and are in need.

In the Body of Christ called the church, we are not just concerned about spiritual matters.

Instead we get physical - because our risen Jesus is not a ghost, but is flesh and bones.

In the Gospel of Luke, Olivia Newton-John does not serenade us in spandex and legwarmers.

In the Gospel of Luke, the risen Jesus gets physical, as his body talks by saying:

“Look at my hands and my feet.

Touch me and see.

I’m hungry - do you have anything to eat?”

In this risen Body of Christ on this earth:

Look around at each other - and see hands and feet.

Touch each other - with peace and justice.

Feed each other - and the world. 

Let’s get - physical.

AMEN.

We've Already Heard this Story

Sermon from April 8, 2012

(Easter Day – Year B)

John 20:1-18

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Believe it or not, I do still remember my first Easter as a priest.

I was the assistant rector at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church.

I was new and green and had bright ideas to try out on the lay people.

As a brand new priest, I was convinced that Sunday school for adults and children should not be cancelled on Easter Day.

So I proposed at St. Mary’s that we continue with Sunday school, even on Easter morning.

The program for Sunday school that I proposed was simple.

The adults who happened to show up for Sunday school on Easter would act out the Easter Gospel for the kids who happened to show up.

It actually was a pretty good idea.

On Easter morning, about 10 adults showed up for Sunday school in the parish hall.

And about 15 kids showed up for Sunday school in the children’s education room.

So I corralled the adults together and we practiced how we were going to perform the story of the Easter Gospel for the kids.

A woman volunteered to play the part of Mary Magdalene.

Another chose to play the part of Jesus.

And another chose to be John, to be Peter, etc.

We quickly grabbed a few props from the parish hall kitchen.

And after 10 minutes of practicing, we were ready for primetime.

We walked downstairs and entered the children’s Sunday school room.

I announced:

“Boys and girls, the adults have a special Easter gift for you.

We are going to perform an amazing story, just for you!”

We then dimmed the lights a bit for effect.

The woman playing the part of Mary Magdalene began to approach from stage left and the narrator began:

“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb...”

Then a boy in the back of the room yelled out:

“We’ve already heard this story before!”

We have already heard this story before.

For many of us, we have heard the same story, again and again, every Easter morning.

We have heard about the stone covering the tomb being rolled away.

We have heard about the various combinations of women who discover the empty tomb.

We have heard about how God raised Jesus from the dead.

We have heard about how we are not to cling to Jesus but we are to go and tell the good news to all his followers.

We’ve already heard the story before.

For some of us here today, maybe we only heard this story for the very first time when Jimmy read it from the center aisle just a moment ago.

However, I doubt that anyone in this church today has not already received the information that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.

We have heard the story before.

The question is what we are going to do with the resurrection story after we leave this church this morning.

The question is:

How are we going to live the story in our own lives: tomorrow and the next day and the next?

The resurrection story in the Gospel of John gives us a clue as to how we are to live the resurrection story in our daily lives.

After the risen Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene, after Jesus says her name, the first words out of the risen Jesus’ mouth are:

“Do not hold on to me…

But go to my brothers and tell them the good news.”

And so Mary Magdalene is the first very apostle, the very first evangelist.

Mary goes and tells the male disciples the good news, shouting:

“I have seen the Lord!”

For as many times as we in this church today have heard the story, there are thousands of people outside of these walls who do not fully know the story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Unfortunately, there are others who have heard only a skewed or inaccurate version of the story.

Last week, I learned about the cancellation of the public Easter egg hunt for children in Colorado Springs.

The Easter egg hunt was also to be cancelled in Macon, Georgia, as well.

The reason why some communities are cancelling their Easter egg hunts is that parents of the children are so competitive that the parents actually storm onto the lawn, collecting the eggs for their children.

In some places, helicopter parents hover over their children, encouraging them to knock over other kids so that their children can gather the most eggs.

Obviously the good news of resurrection still needs to be proclaimed everywhere, including at Easter egg hunts.

The world is hungry for accurate good news, the good news that we were not made for competition, but we are made for community.

The world is hungry for good news, the good news that Jesus rose for us so that we can live a new life, a life not centered on ourselves, but centered on others.

The world is hungry for good news, the good news that Jesus is not about a strict code of regulations, but Jesus’ love is alive and actively at work in our world, today.

The risen Jesus’ first words to us are:

Do not cling to me.

But go.

Go outside these walls and be the good news by shouting:

“I have seen the Lord!”

You see, I don’t care how many times we have already heard the Easter story.

Yet I do care that we live the story, as Easter people.

So go and tell and live the story.

Go - and be good news, speaking out against a skewed gospel that presents Christianity as a judgmental competition.

Tell - and share with your family and friends how you have seen the Lord, in your life today.

Live - and approach each day as if it is your last - because if it is your last, you have the promise of resurrection.

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb.

“We’ve already heard this story before!”

I know you have.

So go into the world – and live the resurrection!

AMEN.

Tell Me the Truth

Sermon from April 6, 2012

(Good Friday – Year B)

John 18:1-19:42

Delivered at

St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

I can remember sitting on the floor, red-faced and with hot cheeks.

I can remember sitting Indian-style at one end of the living room floor.

And my younger brother sat on the floor at the opposite end of the living room.

And my mother sat in a chair between us - with her arms folded in front and with a look of disgust on her face.

My mother glared first at my brother and then she glared at me and exclaimed:

“You boys are not going anywhere –

Until one of you tells me the truth.”

I can’t remember now exactly what my brother or I had done.

Maybe one of us had knocked over a lamp and broke it.

Or maybe one of us had made a mess in the playroom.

Yet no matter what it was that my brother or I had done,

Neither one of us was willing to tell the truth.

So my brother and I sat at opposite ends of the living room floor, with my mother perched on the judgment seat.

After a few minutes, she repeated her direction:

“Tell me the truth.

Tell me now who did it.

Because you are not getting up from here –

Until one of you tells me the truth.”

Eventually, one of my mother’s sons broke down and admitted the wrongdoing.

One of us brothers broke down and told the truth.

And one of us was exposed as a liar.

Because my mother was always true to her word.

No one was going anywhere, until someone tells the truth.

When I hear the story of the passion of Lord Jesus Christ, as it is told in John’s Gospel, I am always intrigued by the encounter between Jesus and Pontius Pilate.

Pilate demands that Jesus tell the truth.

And Jesus answers:

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.”

Pilate and Jesus sit at opposite ends of the living room floor.

One of them is a liar and one of them is telling the truth.

Yet Jesus was born into this world, to tell the truth.

Jesus walked on this earth, to tell the truth.

Jesus died on a cross, to tell the truth.

In fact, John’s Gospel is filled with evidence that Jesus is the truth.

In the opening words of the Gospel of John, we hear that:

“The Word became flesh and lived among us.

And we have seen his glory…full of grace and truth.”

In the Gospel of John, Jesus explains:

“You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus proclaims:

“I am the Way and the Truth and the Life.”

And then, on Good Friday, Pontius Pilate asks Jesus:

“What is truth?”

And Jesus answers with deafening silence.

But Jesus does answer the question -

By stretching out his arms upon the hard wood of the cross.

Jesus is full of grace and truth.

Jesus is the Truth.

Jesus tells the truth.

And the truth is love.

When I read my newsfeed on Google news, I am thirsty for the real truth.

When I read about the death of Trayvon Martin at the hands of George Zimmerman, I want to know the truth.

For those who don’t know what I am talking about, Trayvon Martin was the African-American boy who was wearing a hoodie.

And Trayvon was recently shot by George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watchman.

In my search for the truth, I wish that I could put both Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman into opposite corners of the living room.

I want to sit on the judgment seat and ask them:

George Zimmerman: did you act in self-defense?

Trayvon Martin: were you an innocent victim of racial profiling?

I am thirsty to know the truth:

Which one of you is a liar and which one of you is telling the truth?

Yet, like Pilate, we are looking for the wrong answers.

Because no matter who was at fault,

The truth is that a life was tragically lost because we are a people of violence and prejudice and sin.

The truth is that we are a broken people who crucify others - rather than love others.

The truth is that Jesus exposes all of us as liars.

For the truth is love.

On Good Friday, Jesus looks squarely into our eyes and proclaims:

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.”

And the truth is love.

On Good Friday and on every day, we sit on the judgment seat, trying to figure out what is a lie and what is the truth.

We are seeped in a culture that tells us that everything around us is ours.

We have been told that the cars that we drive, the houses that we live in, the jobs that we have, the debit card in our wallet –

These are all ours, gained by our hard work.

Yet that is a lie.

The truth is that heaven and earth are full of God’s glory and the stuff that we have is actually God’s, on loan to us so that we might use it to love others, rather than use it to love on ourselves.

On the cross, Jesus exposes that the god of consumerism and consumption is a liar.

And the truth is love.

We are seeped in a culture that tells us that violence and prejudice are the answer to our problems and differences.

We have been told that if someone looks black and is wearing a hoodie, then they must be up to no good.

We are told that if someone looks like a redneck, then they must be a bigot.

We are told that if we just had bigger bombs and better weapons and more crucifixions and just one more spiteful thing to say to put our meddling mother-in-law into her place,

Then we would be safe and secure.

Yet that is a lie.

The truth is that Jesus goes willingly to the cross –

Never, ever retaliating or acting out of self-defense.

On the cross, Jesus exposes that the god of violence is a liar.

And the truth is love.

Love is the only truth.

Love is the only measure by which we are judged.

And Love is on the Cross.

For God is Love.

On Good Friday, Jesus and Pontius Pilate sit at opposite ends of the living room floor.

And my mother was always true to her word.

No one is going anywhere, until someone tells the truth.

So from his cross, Jesus finally confesses:

“For this I was born, and for this I came into the world,

To tell the truth.”

AMEN.

He Saves Others

Sermon from April 1, 2012

(Palm Sunday – Year B)

Mark 14:32-15:39

St. Albans’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

He saved others.

He cannot save himself.

The crowd, the congregation, makes this accusation of Jesus as he hangs on his cross.

The crowd taunts Jesus by saying:

“He saved others.

He cannot save himself.

Let him come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.”

He saved others.

Yet he cannot save himself.

Yes, that’s right.

Jesus did not – and Jesus does not – save himself.

Because Jesus saves others.

Jesus is saving you.

And Jesus is saving me.

At St. Alban’s over the last several weeks, we have learned that we are being saved.

In the Book of Acts, which we studied during the season of Epiphany, we learned that the very earliest followers of Jesus described themselves as:

“Those who are being saved.”

We have learned that this phrase:

“Those who are being saved”

Has a different nuance to it than:

“Those who were saved.”

Being saved is not only a one-time event.

But being saved is a journey.

For salvation – the healing of our souls and bodies – is both a one-time event on the cross.

And being saved is a journey, a journey of becoming healed and whole.

During this season of Lent, we invited 3 lay people each Sunday, people just like you, to make a presentation during Sunday School, each answering the question in their own lives:

How am I being saved?

And we heard 12 people share compelling and calming and challenging stories.

We heard 12 stories of how Jesus does not come down from the cross to save himself.

We heard 12 different stories about how Jesus is saving others.

And on Sunday evenings in Lent, we invited five pastors in our city, mainly of the Baptist variety, to speak to us in our Lenten Speaker series.

All of them shared with us about how they are being saved by Jesus.

In each of their stories, our guest speakers shared how their salvation and healing comes from the one-time event on the cross of Jesus.

And they are being saved in a journey, a journey of becoming healed and whole.

In each of their stories, Jesus is saving others, rather than saving himself.

And now, as we approach the end of Lent, I want to share how I am being saved.

For I am being saved, each and every day that I encounter Jesus on his cross.

Particularly, I am being saved by this drama that we just experienced, the drama of the passion and death of our Lord Jesus Christ.

For in hearing of the last days of Jesus on this earth, I am being saved when I hear about the followers of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Jesus pleads with his sleepy followers:

“Can’t you stay awake with me for even one hour?”

And I know that, in my own life, my mind and attention wanders from Jesus constantly.

To give Jesus my undivided attention, for even an hour, can be difficult.

Yet I am being saved because Jesus understands my human weakness.

Jesus still loves me, despite my wanderings from him.

And that is how I know that I am being saved.

I am being saved when I listen to Peter, his impetuous follower, deny Jesus.

Not only does Peter deny Jesus, but Peter denies him three times.

Yet I am being saved because Jesus understands the denials and betrayals of this life.

Jesus still loves me, despite my denials and betrayals.

And that is how I know that I am being saved.

I am being saved when I hear the crowd around Jesus shout “Hosanna!” as they wave palm branches.

And the same crowd then succumbs to mob mentality as their cries switch quickly to “Crucify him!”

Yet I am being saved because Jesus understands that I can be easily influenced by others, saying whatever it takes just to get along.

Jesus still loves me, despite my desire to please others around me.

And that is how I know that I am being saved.

And I am being saved when I hear the last words of Jesus on his cross, as Jesus groans:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

On the cross, Jesus experiences the depth of human pain and suffering, feeling lonely and rejected.

And I am being saved because Jesus understands my own feelings of loneliness and rejection.

Jesus still loves me, despite my own cries of:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

And that is how I know that I am being saved.

While Jesus hangs on his cross, the crowd taunts him saying:

“He saved others.

He cannot save himself.”

Thank God that Jesus does not save himself.

Thank God that Jesus saves others.

On the cross, Jesus still loves you

And he still loves me.

And that is how I know - that I am being saved.

Holy Week Nostalgia

In my home growing up, life had a different rhythm during Holy Week. It was a part of our family rhythm to be in church on Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter. As a family, we experienced together, each and every year, the wonderful mystery of the death and resurrection of Jesus.

Many people get nostalgic at Christmas, remembering Christmases past with loved ones. Yet as I get older, I get nostalgic about Holy Week, remembering Holy Weeks past with loved ones.

When I was a child and a teenager, we went to our own church for the worship services during Holy Week. Yet on Good Friday, we always went to the church of my grandparents: St. John the Divine Episcopal Church in Houston. This was also the church where I was baptized – and where I would later be married.

At St. John the Divine, the Good Friday worship service lasted from 12:00 PM to 3:00 PM, the same hours that Jesus hung on the cross. However, the service was “come and go” so that you could stay for as long as you wanted during the three hours. A hymn was sung every 20 minutes, so that people could come and go during the singing.

Each year on Good Friday, we would pick up my grandmother for a simple lunch. After lunch, we drove to Glenwood Cemetery, where many of my ancestors are buried. At the cemetery, we would reverently place a few Easter lilies on the graves. After a moment of hushed remembrance and the quiet re-telling of the stories of the dead, we would depart for church, arriving a little before 2 o’clock. At 3 o’clock, the hour that Jesus died, the big bell in the tower tolled. In that silent church, with only the sound of a lone bell, my grandmother would sniffle, fighting back tears as she remembered those who had experienced their own Good Fridays.

Remembering is a large part of our faith story. In fact we could say that the whole of the Scriptures are read and digested, daily and weekly, so that we can remember the mighty deeds of God. At the Last Supper, Jesus takes bread and says: “Do this in remembrance of me.” He takes the cup of wine and says: “Do this in remembrance of me.” Each Sunday in the Eucharist, we remember the death and resurrection of Jesus.

During Holy Week – and especially on Good Friday – I get nostalgic and I remember. I remember my ancestors who are dead and buried, who died in the hope of the resurrection. I remember kneeling with my family, hearing the bell toll at 3 o’clock, the hour of Jesus’ death. I remember the sound of my grandmother, sniffling back her tears.

This Holy Week and Easter, I invite you to take up the rhythm of this week. Make it different than all other weeks. Make memories for yourself and for your descendents. Make this Holy Week - a time to remember.

The Judgment of this World

Sermon from March 25, 2012

(Lent 5 – Year B)

John 12: 20-33

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

The book entitled The Hunger Games has taken America by storm.

And the movie based upon the book, also entitled The Hunger Games, is breaking records for attendance in movie theatres this weekend.

The Hunger Games is set in the future.

And in this future, the area of North America is now governed by another nation, a nation called Panem.

And in the country of Panem, in this futuristic system, the greatest form of national entertainment is watching The Hunger Games on TV.

The Hunger Games assigns 24 youth, 2 from each district of the country, to compete in a game for survival.

These 24 youth must hunt and kill each other in the forest, until the sole survivor is declared the victor.

And every brutal and calculating movement of these youth is broadcast on national TV.

Although The Hunger Games is set in the future, there are aspects of the brutality and the voyeuristic pleasure of the games that invokes systems in the past, a time when people fought to the death in the coliseum in Rome.

The system of blood-thirsty sport, all for the pleasure of the audience, is nothing new.

And underneath the system of the Hunger Games - is a judgment upon our own society.

In the book and the film called The Hunger Games is a judgment upon violence as a form of consumeristic entertainment.

In our society today, we might not put people into the coliseum for our entertainment.

Yet our entertainment is populated by “reality TV” - where we are entertained by people who duke it out on Survivor or The “Real” Housewives of New Jersey.

In our society and in our lives, conniving, selfish and destructive behavior is rewarded.

And The Hunger Games is a judgment upon our systems that are driven by consumerism, violence and entertainment, all rolled into one.

Jesus also pronounces a judgment upon our society, judgment upon systems that are driven by consumerism, violence and entertainment, all rolled into one.

In John’s Gospel, in the last week of Jesus’ life, Jesus tells us that his hour has come to be glorified.

Just before Jesus is lifted up from the earth on his cross, he proclaims:

“Now is the judgment of this world;

Now the ruler of this world will be driven out.”

On his cross, Jesus reigns in glory.

On his cross, Jesus judges the systems of this world.

On his cross, Jesus drives out the forces of violence and selfish behavior that can be cruelly consumed as entertainment.

For the crucifixion of Jesus – as well as The Hunger Games – was a form of entertainment in this world that prizes a good show, as long as it is at someone else’s expense.

When Jesus was nailed to the cross, it was an event made for reality TV, where the Son of God was mocked for not being the sole survivor.

Yet nailed to that cross, Jesus judges our system, as he does not retaliate by sending a lightening bolt to kill his executioners.

Instead Jesus pleads “Father, forgive them” - judging this world with his love.

I think that it is a cop out to view the systems of consumerism, racism, sexism and other isms as someone else’s problem.

In our day-to-day lives, Jesus is lifted high from the earth to judge our human systems – and he asks us to speak out, in love.

Recently, I saw a bumper sticker that was blatantly racist.

This bumper sticker was a cruel, racist swipe at our current President.

I can remain silent about it, silently thinking that maybe someone else will repudiate such cruelty.

Yet the loving thing to do is to speak out against such hateful displays.

On facebook, I read that a friend of mine was disturbed when she saw a little boy reduced to tears on the Little League field yesterday.

Evidently, this boy’s father berated his son, telling him:

“You swing the baseball bat like a little girl!”

We can remain silent about such sexist and cruel comments.

Yet the loving thing to do is to speak out against hateful and destructive speech.

I sometimes cannot even walk into a shopping mall anymore, because I can almost hear the merchandise screaming out at me and at others, shouting:

“Buy me, and I will make happy!”

We can remain silent about this manipulation of consumers.

Yet the loving thing is to act, to act by giving our money away to those in need, rather than filling our closets with more and more stuff.

And when we buck the system,

When we do not remain silent about racism and sexism and consumerism,

When we speak out for justice and mercy and love,

Then we are crucified.

When we judge using the standard of love for all human beings,

When we resist the systems of this world,

Then we are crucified with Christ.

Yet when we are crucified with Christ.

We have a sure and certain hope in the resurrection.

So speak out against bullying among our youth and speak out against bigoted speech among all – even though you might get crucified for not minding your own business.

Act against violence, by turning the other cheek instead of retaliating – even though you might get crucified for being weak.

Give your money away into the offering plate – even though you might get crucified for being a poor money manager.

Love, love, love – even though you will get crucified for it.

For now is the ruler of this world driven out,

A world that is entertained by cruel Hunger Games and by battles to the death in the coliseum and by fights on The Real Housewives of Wherever.

Now, on the cross, is the judgment of the systems of this world.

Now is the judgment of Jesus with his power:

The power of love.

AMEN.

Can I Be Baptized?

Can I be baptized?

In an age where many people are not baptized as infants, I receive this question often from adults who have not been baptized. Some hesitance in the asking of this question usually involves follow-up questions such as: What if I don’t think I am ready to be baptized? What if I am not good enough or educated enough?

Our Holy Scriptures give us, especially in the Book of Acts, examples of baptisms in the early Church. In no instance is someone told to wait on being baptized because they aren’t ready or they aren’t good enough or they don’t have a seminary education to explain the theology of baptism. In all instances, baptism is presented in the Book of Acts as a gift, a gift of the Holy Spirit that propels us to do the work of Jesus in the world.

Beginning on Monday, January 16, St. Alban’s will enter into a 5 week exploration of the Book of Acts. You will have 3 opportunities each week to attend a session. These sessions will be augmented by Adult & Youth Sunday School each week.

I invite you to enter into the fullness of your baptism by exploring the Book of Acts. I invite you to discover that you are never ready enough or smart enough or good enough to receive the free gift of God’s Holy Spirit.