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Category Archives: Jesus
Sermon: “Thus well arrayed I need not fear . . .”
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Edina, Minnesota
The Reverend Neil Alan Willard, M.Div.
Easter Day, April 8, 2012
“And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen,
they went to the tomb.” (Mark 16:2)
The Good Friday print edition of The New York Times included an unusual article from Caracas, the capital of Venezuela. There a 17-story mausoleum, covered in bright white ceramic tiles that were imported from Spain, has slowly begun to loom over the historic buildings around it. When completed, it will hold the remains of Simón Bolívar, who led the nation’s war of independence and died in 1830. As for the modern design of this new structure [click to see photograph] and its meaning, the article notes that it:
. . . looks to many [Venezuelans] like the world’s biggest skateboard ramp. To others, it evokes a parking garage, a shopping mall, a bridal veil, a sailing ship or a drive-in movie screen. Some simply call it an outrage.
But to its creators, it is an eloquent tribute to the father of the nation, the quasi-mythical inspiration for President Hugo Chavez’s socialist revolution. . . .
The mausoleum will almost certainly be interpreted as one of the signature architectural works of Mr. Chavez’s revolution and a measure of his government’s aspirations. Some already see in it a reflection of Mr. Chavez’s ego. With Mr. Chavez battling cancer and his mortality on nearly everyone’s mind, some also wonder whether the tomb might be intended to have another human occupant someday.[1]
The reporter observed that, on the inside, “the vast space evokes a cathedral, majestic and solemn,” which fits with the last word at the end of the article from Orlando Martinez. He’s a member of the design team, who said, “This is a place of worship.”[2]
Yesterday I posted on my blog, Laughing Water, a photograph of a very different kind of resting place. Continue reading
Posted in Easter, Jesus, Paschal Triduum, Scripture, Sermons
Anne Lamott: Young Kids, Cherry Pie, and Jesus
Earlier this week my wife Carrie had the opportunity to listen to Anne Lamott, author of Traveling Mercies and other books, at Barnes & Noble in Edina. Carrie recorded a short video of that conversation, which included this wonderful story:
From the flea market . . . I could hear this music wafting out of this ramshackled church with this one cruddy, “Waiting for Godot,” tree in front of it. And, you know, there’s an acronym for God that it’s the gift of desperation. And because I had no more good ideas, I hear this music, and it was like in the cartoons when the wife . . . bakes a cherry pie and puts it on the sill, and then [the] . . . aromatic cherry pie smell comes around, walking, walking, walking, and it taps [the husband] on the chest, right? And then he wakes up, and he follows it, and then he eats it, and then he gets in trouble, very comical, the angry wife, right? So that was how Jesus brought me. It was like a smell, an aroma of something baking that I could smell. And I got up and kind of walked, walked over. And I sat down in this church . . .
And then I started going. And then, as I wrote about in Traveling Mercies, I just felt like Jesus – I just felt like he was going to get me . . .
I got sober, and then I got baptized . . .
So that’s my church and that’s my Jesus.
The most exciting part of that day, however, came in the morning, when Anne Lamott was interviewed by Minnesota Public Radio’s Kerri Miller and Carrie called to ask a question about Sam, Lamott’s son, and Jax, Lamott’s grandson. You can read that exchange below or listen to it here (beginning at 22:33):
[Kerri Miller:] To the phones, to Carrie in St. Louis Park. . . .
[Carrie Willard:] Thank you, thank you. I’m a huge fan, and I loved Traveling Mercies, and I loved Operating Instructions. And one of my favorite, favorite parts of your books is when you’re talking about taking Sam to church, I think in Traveling Mercies. And I especially appreciate that now. I have two young kids, and my husband’s an Episcopal priest. And so I’m wrestling with these kids in the pews all by myself every Sunday morning, and I think about you all the time. And I’m wondering how that relationship changed as Sam grew up and how you plan to introduce Jax to your faith community, if you do.
[Anne Lamott:] That’s a good question. Thank you. I made Sam come to church till he turned 15, which was longer than the children of most priests and ministers – Episcopal priests and ministers – made their kids go. I felt that – in this world of video games and 24/7 information overload – that there were worse things you could do as a parent than to ask your kid . . . to come and sit with the revered tribal elders and to practice being quiet and to practice being polite and to practice getting out of yourself to become a person for others and to learn that there is something bigger and lovelier that you can hook into when you come to a community. . . . I bring Jax to church with me every single Sunday. . . . Jax has three little colleagues. I call them the colleagues. They’re all three years old – Cooper, Isaiah, and Zeke – and Jax loves it.
Sermon: “All we want are the facts, ma’am.” Really?
Is Sgt. Joe Friday demanding to know "the facts" or merely pointing to some whatchamacallit or thingamajig for his partner to bring over to the table?
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Edina, Minnesota
The Reverend Neil Alan Willard, M.Div.
Lent V, March 24, 2012
“. . . we wish to see Jesus.” (John 12:21)
Those words were spoken to a disciple of Jesus by what the Gospel of John describes as “some Greeks” who had come to worship in Jerusalem. They may have been Jews from the diaspora. They may have been Gentiles, foreshadowing the fact that the message of Jesus would eventually reach the ends of the earth. For today, however, let’s assume that these Greeks represent you and me. Some of us, like some of them, wish to see Jesus.
It’s interesting to note that these Greeks, in spite of their request, never seem to have come face to face with him. Their situation brings to mind the familiar words of Jesus to Thomas at the end of John’s Gospel: “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”[1] It turns out that we have to see Jesus differently, that we have to see him through the eyes of faith.
We use that kind of language a lot – “the eyes of faith” – without much thought about the meaning of the words. Needless to say, that can create a bit of confusion.
Unfortunately, that’s something the church does really well – generating confusion– not only for those who have crossed an ecclesiastical threshold for the first time, but also for those of us who have long anchored our life in a community of faith. Episcopalians are notoriously guilty of magnifying this kind of verbal chaos by giving simple objects complicated names! In fact, I have a confession to make that I hope will make many of you feel a little better whenever you become lost in the language of the church. Continue reading
Lent Madness: Vote for Dietrich Bonhoeffer!
I’ve been traveling a bit, which resulted in a kind of Lenten fast of words here on Laughing Water. Another reason for that, of course, has been Lent Madness. As you may recall, I’m one of eight “celebrity bloggers” who have been asked to write about and, eventually, advocate for various saints.
Three of the four heroes of Christian faith that were assigned to me advanced from the initial 32-saint bracket to “The Saintly Sixteen.” Two of those three, Jerome and Thomas Cranmer, have already made it into “The Elate Eight.”
My hope is that, with your help, Dietrich Bonhoeffer will soon join them. You can read his biography from the first round here. The second round focuses on “Quirks and Quotes,” like the fact that his enthusiasm for bullfighting not only amused but also confused his theological students.
However, three quotes from Bonhoeffer that I highlighted for Lent Madness are what I really want to share with you today. Perhaps they will inspire you to vote for him there. But my greatest hope, of course, is that these words will encourage you in your own Lenten journey as you walk toward the cross of Christ.
Here’s a quote from a letter by Bonhoeffer in 1939 to Reinhold Niebuhr:
I must live through this difficult period in our national history with the people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people.
Here’s a quote from his book Life Together:
It is not simply to be taken for granted that the Christian has the privilege of living among other Christians. Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies. At the end all his disciples deserted him. On the Cross he was utterly alone, surrounded by evildoers and mockers. For this cause he had come, to bring peace to the enemies of God. So the Christian, too, belongs not in the seclusion of a cloistered life but in the thick of foes. There is his commission, his work.
Here’s a quote from his book The Cost of Discipleship:
When he was challenged by Jesus to accept a life of voluntary poverty, the rich young man knew he was faced with the simple alternative of obedience or disobedience. When Levi was called from the receipt of custom or Peter from his nets, there was no doubt that Jesus meant business. Both of them were to leave everything and follow. Again, when Peter was called to walk on the rolling sea, he had to get up and risk his life. Only one thing was required in each case — to rely on Christ’s word, and cling to it as offering greater security than all the securities in the world. The forces which tried to interpose themselves between the word of Jesus and the response of obedience were as formidable then as they are to-day. Reason and conscience, responsibility and piety all stood in the way, and even the law and “scriptural authority” itself were obstacles which pretended to defend them from going to the extremes of antinomianism and “enthusiasms.” But the call of Jesus made short work of all these barriers . . .
Sermon: “We must not think evil of this man.”
Last night my wife and I watched The Amish, a documentary by AMERICAN EXPERIENCE that was broadcast on PBS. At one point it looked back to the tragedy that unfolded inside a one-room schoolhouse in rural Pennsylvania on October 2, 2006, when ten Amish girls were shot, killing five of them.
Because there was enough time between that Monday and my sermon the next Sunday at Bruton Parish Episcopal Church in Williamsburg, Virginia, I was able to reflect deeply on that event. So I didn’t merely allude to it but focused on it.
Here’s what I said: Continue reading
