Head in the Clouds

Sermon from March 6, 2011
(Last Epiphany – Year A)
Matthew 17: 1-9
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

Twenty-three years ago, I experienced a summer of love.
In the summer of 1988, I made the irrational discovery that I was in love with a young lady named Susan Stephenson.
Susan and I had met before at a Young Singles retreat at Camp Allen sponsored by our church.
We were friends for several years while we both attended St. John the Divine Episcopal Church in Houston.
Yet it was in 1988 that something happened to me – to us – and I fell in love.

I cannot fully explain what happens when two people fall in love.
In fact, falling in love is not based at all on logical, rational arguments and theories.
Falling in love is based upon illogical, irrational feelings and experiences.

Remembering that summer of love in 1988, I can still almost smell the perfume that Susan wore during our whirlwind courtship.
All I wanted to do was to be with her - and to hold on to her.
My friends and my family noticed this transformation and observed:
“Ever since Jeff and Susan got together, he just hasn’t been the same.”

Although it can be rather embarrassing to talk about openly, the experience and feeling of falling in love was and is real to me.
Yet some would say that when I fell in love with my wife - that my head was in the clouds.

Almost two thousand years ago, three of the followers of Jesus experienced a conversion in the clouds.
Jesus takes Peter, James and John up a high mountain.
Jesus is transfigured.
He is changed in front of three disciples - as his face shines like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white.
Peter smells the heady perfume of the divine coming from the bright cloud.
Peter babbles like a youngster in love about wanting to stay on top of the mountain, about wanting to stay in love forever.
Irrationally and illogically, with sweaty palms, Peter proclaims that it is good to be converted and changed.

When the three disciples come down from the mountain, it would be rather embarrassing to talk about their conversion experience with the nine disciples who did not feel or experience the transfiguration on the mountain.
Yet the experience and feelings of Peter, James and John were very real.
Some would even say that their heads were in the clouds.

Thirty-one years ago, I had a transfiguration experience.
I grew up in a faithful Episcopalian home, going to church every Sunday in our suburban parish on the west side of Houston.
I served as an acolyte and attended Sunday school faithfully.

In 1979, the new assistant rector at our church took our youth group on a field trip to the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer, on the near east end of downtown Houston.
For those who do not know about Church of the Redeemer, in the 1960s and 70s, Redeemer was transfigured from a dying Episcopal church near the inner city - into an exploding church that became the center for the charismatic and renewal movement in the wider Church.
Miraculous healings occurred at Church of the Redeemer.
Singing and speaking in tongues were commonplace in the worship services.
And a new style of music, centered on guitars and simple voices, emerged from this Episcopal parish on the other side of town.

In December of 1979, our youth group traveled from west Houston to a Sunday evening worship service at the Church of the Redeemer.
As we entered the front doors, each usher hugged us.
The hymns were sung out of the very same hymnal that I had used my entire life.
Yet I was amazed how every song sounded fresh and new and alive.
People in the congregation raised their hands in praise.
And yes, after communion, a chorus of angelic voices singing in tongues could be heard.

My friends, I cannot fully explain what happened to me that night.
But I do know that for me – and for many other teenagers in our youth group – it was a moment of transfiguration, a conversion experience, as I felt the power of the Holy Spirit as a fresh and new reality in my life.

After our youth group’s initial visit to the Church of the Redeemer, renewal began to spread through our own suburban Houston parish.
In just two years, our youth group exploded from about 12 kids to over 40 kids.
Our youth group was transfigured - from a motley crew of preppy, upper-middle class teens - into a true Christian community.
And lives of all ages in our parish church were irrationally changed and transfigured.

And thanks to the miracle of Facebook – I am now in touch with many of the friends I made in that youth group 30 years ago.
Amazingly, from that group of kids who got turned on by the Holy Spirit, many of us are now still involved in our churches.
Two of us are now priests.

Last weekend was the last Sunday of worship at the Church of the Redeemer in Houston.
Church of the Redeemer has been closed, due to declining attendance and the structural aging of the buildings.
I was there a week ago Friday night for worship on their last weekend.
It was important for me to return to the place where my head got up into the clouds.

Now I realize that in the years since the 1980s, an expose book has been written about the glory days at Redeemer – and about the abuses of power that also became tragically apparent.
Over the years, I have become a bit embarrassed by my irrational and illogical experiences that began at that church that was on fire with the Holy Spirit, yet a church that was also wounded and strange.

You see, as Episcopalians, it can be rather embarrassing to talk openly about our experiences of transfiguration.
For example, in all my years of being a priest, I have never spoken from the pulpit about my own experience of conversion that was sparked at Church of the Redeemer.
In my years as a priest, until this morning, I have never spoken about my experience on the mountaintop with my fellow teenagers in the Youth Group of the Episcopal Church of the Holy Spirit in Houston, Texas.
Some might say of me during that time that my head was in the clouds.
Yet the experiences and feelings of the Holy Spirit that I felt in those years were and are very real to me.

In 1799, the German theologian Friedrich Schleirmacher, wrote a paper called “The Addresses on Religion.”
Schleirmacher is referred to as: the Father of Modern Protestant Theology.
Schleirmacher believed that the bedrock of religion is not based upon scripture, nor is it not based upon the creeds.
In his “Addresses on Religion” from 1799, Schleirmacher writes this:
Religion is “above all and essentially an intuition and a feeling.”

I can see Schleimacher’s point, because when I come to church and I say the Nicene Creed, the Creed has never convinced me to be a Christian.
Yet my own transfiguration experience - the feeling of Jesus Christ coming alive in my life – is what is convincing to me.
And the words of the Creed and the words of the sacred scriptures simply give a language and a depth to my experience of an illogical faith.

Now I realize that some people here this morning have had a feeling or an experience of faith – and some have not.
Even in the story of Jesus’ transfiguration, three of the disciples shared in that feeling on the mountain – yet nine of them did not.
Yet I do not want to overlook the fact that for many of us, we have experienced that thin place where the human and the divine come so close together that we are transformed -
And our lives are never the same again.

When I fell in love with Susan, people said:
“Jeff just hasn’t been the same.”
When I experienced the power of the Holy Spirit as a living presence in my life, some folks said:
“Jeff just hasn’t been the same.”
And because I have heard your transfiguration stories, I know that some people have said about you:
“You just haven’t been the same.”

Many of you in this congregation have had your faith in Jesus Christ come alive by an illogical experience or by an irrational feeling of God in your life.
And in this upcoming season of Lent, please do not be afraid to share your story, your witness, with others.

Don’t be embarrassed to tell the story of your summer of love.
Don’t be afraid to share your transfiguration story,
When your head was in the clouds.

AMEN.

I Do Have a Voice

I highly recommend the Academy Award winning movie, The King’s Speech. The film is about King George VI of the United Kingdom. The King has a speech impediment that he overcomes through relentless coaching that remedies his fears. My favorite scene in the movie is when the King is in Westminster Abbey, practicing his lines for his upcoming coronation. His coach is prodding him, coaxing him along to find his voice. In a moment of released frustration, the King yells out into the empty, historic abbey: “I do have a voice!”

I am so proud of all of you. Jimmy and I worked very hard to teach the Gospel of John during the season of Epiphany; and you responded magnificently. Each session had moments of spiritual awakening and new discoveries. Together, we learned that John makes a witness, a testimony, as his voice cries out down two thousand years, leading millions of people to the good news of Jesus Christ. Together, we heard God’s voice, giving us courage to find our voice, to make our witness.

Last weekend, I had the wonderful opportunity to teach at the Iona School for Ministry at Camp Allen. The Iona School for Ministry is the brainchild of the Diocese of Texas; the Iona School is a place to train and educate people who will be ordained as deacons or bi-vocational priests in our diocese. Last weekend, I was teaching a class on “Practical Preaching” at the Iona School. I led the students through a coaching exercise, helping them to “find their voice” so that they can make a witness, a testimony to their faith in the pulpits and in the pubs where they will proclaim the Gospel.

You can do this simple exercise, as well, to find your voice. Choose one or more of the following phrases and fill in the blanks:
* I follow Jesus because ________.
* The hope that is within me is ________.
* I believe that Jesus gives me eternal life because ________.

If you will do this exercise, filling in the blank with a short answer, then you will have a short witness, a testimony of faith, to share with anyone at anytime at a moment’s notice. You will find that you do have a voice and something to say.

Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, March 9. This Lent, it is our turn. It is our turn to be a witness to the Faith. It is our turn to step up our commitment to Jesus Christ. This Lent, I look forward to hearing you proclaim:

“I do have something to say. I do have a witness to give. I do have a voice.”

You Will Be A Martyr

Sermon from November 14, 2010
(Pentecost 25 – Year C)
Luke 21: 5-19
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

As many of you know, every summer, Susan and I lead a camp session at Camp Allen, the Episcopal retreat center for the Diocese of Texas, located near Navasota.
Each summer, Susan and I spend one week at camp with third and fourth grade kids and with teenaged counselors and staff.

The summer camp of 2007 is the camp session that we all remember as the “Camp of Harry Potter,” because the camp session began on the very day that the last volume in the Harry Potter book series was released.
Teen-aged counselors arrived at camp with the book Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows tucked under their arm, purchased at Barnes & Noble on their way to camp.
Mail that arrives for campers during the week usually consists of letters from grandparents and a box of cookies from parents.
But during this week of camp, the bulk of the mail for campers was from Amazon.com, with the Harry Potter book sent as a gift from parents.
Night after night, 8 and 9 year olds and teenagers, and even adults, stayed up ‘til all hours of the night in their cabins, reading the last Harry Potter book by flash light, to find out how the Harry Potter series turns out in the end.

Yet there was an agreement that was made at our campsite.
No one who got to the end of the book was to spoil the ending and tell others about how it all turned out for Harry Potter and his friends at Hogwarts.

However, after a few days, a rather annoying counselor stood up at lunch on a bench in the dining hall and yelled out:
“I finished the book last night
And I know how it all turns out.
Harry Potter dies in the end!”

The whole dining hall erupted in boos and hisses because she had spoiled the end of the story.
We wished that this annoying counselor had just kept her mouth shut.

I sometimes wish that Jesus had kept his mouth shut.
Yet Jesus stands up in the Temple in Jerusalem and tells us all how it is going to turn out for us.
Jesus stands up on a bench and tells us all how it is going to turn out, as he proclaims:

“You will be arrested and persecuted and hauled before kings and governors because of my name.
You will be betrayed by parents and relatives and friends.
Some of you will be put to death.
This will give you an opportunity to testify.”

Sometimes I wish that Jesus had just kept his mouth shut and not spoiled the ending.
And I really wish that Jesus had not spoiled the ending when I read this biblical passage in the original Greek language of the New Testament.

You see, we have translated Jesus’ statement as this.
“This will give you an opportunity to testify.”
But the actual Greek is:
“It will turn out for you – as a testimony, as a witness.”
And the word that we translate as testimony or witness is actually the word “martyrion,” a martyr.

Therefore, Jesus stands up in the Temple in Jerusalem and spoils the ending of our story, proclaiming:
“It will turn out for you - that you will be a martyr.”

A martyr is someone who is killed for their faith.
It can make us uncomfortable to think that we have been crucified and buried with Christ in our Baptism, already resurrected to a new life across the river.
It can make us uncomfortable to think about being killed for our faith.
Yet I think that our discomfort comes because we have lived within the confines of comfy, upper-middle class American Christianity for too long.

In the first century, most Christians certainly understood that being crucified in our Baptism and being killed physically went hand in hand.
Most early followers of Jesus understood all too well that Jesus was not spoiling the end of the story by telling them that they would be martyrs for the faith.
For gosh sakes, St. Stephen, the first martyr, was killed by stoning.
Then James was beheaded, Peter was crucified upside down and Paul was killed in Rome.
Jesus is just stating the obvious when he spoils the end of the story and tells his followers:
It will turn out for you - that you will be a martyr.

A little later in Christian history,
A 22-year old persecuted woman named Perpetua had a tiny baby and yet she would not recant her Christian faith.
So Perpetua was killed, ripped apart by wild beasts in the city of Carthage in the year 203.
A man named Alban lived in Britain in the 3rd century and converted to Christianity.
Alban was hauled in front of a Roman judge, yet he would not recant his Christian faith.
So Alban was killed, having his head chopped off.
A preacher named Martin Luther King, Jr. insisted that he had a dream where people would not be judged by the color of their skin, a dream of justice and dignity for every human being, a Christian belief that he would not recant.
So Dr. King was killed, shot dead on the balcony of a Memphis motel.

You see, my friends, it is the norm, not the exception, that we can expect to be killed for our Christian faith.
We should expect to be hauled in front of kings and governors – and in front of our bosses and supervisors – so that we may insist that everyone, Greek or Jew, slave or free, men or women, everyone should be treated equally.
We should expect for our friends and relatives to think that we have gone wacko on religion for worshiping a man who is killed on a cross in order to bring us abundant life.
We should expect, like many of our brothers and sisters in other countries today, to be willing to die for our faith.
Because being a witness, a testimony, a martyr, for Jesus is not the exception, but the norm, for Christian faith and living.

And we make a witness, a testimony to our faith, every time that we celebrate the sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation in this church.
At every Baptism and Confirmation, we reaffirm our faith that Jesus is Lord and Savior of our lives.

And I believe that we do a disservice to those who are newly baptized and confirmed to then throw them a nice reception in the parish hall with finger sandwiches and fruit punch in tiny glass cups.
Instead, we should tell those who are baptized and confirmed the same thing that Jesus stands up and tells to us, his followers.
We should stand up and spoil the end of the story for all who profess that they are Christians, saying:
It will turn out for you - that you will be a martyr.

Now I realize that most of us are not going to be up against a firing squad of persecution in this coming week.
Yet just because we might not be physically threatened with death does not mean that we still cannot be a testimony, a witness, a martyr for the Faith.

For example, when you see someone being bullied or picked on or laughed at because they are different, for whatever reason, then speak up and rebuke that bully, even if it might cost you your reputation or your very life.
Because being a real Christian means that we are to be a testimony, a witness, a martyr even, to defend the dignity of every human being.

Jesus stands up in the Temple and tells us that by standing firm for faith and for love, you will gain an abundant and eternal and resurrected life.
Jesus has already spoiled the end of your faith story.
It will turn out for you - that you will be a martyr.

AMEN.