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 . . .

Monday Connection: Restoration Work and Faith

Monday Connection: “Is your work a high calling?”

Monday Connection: “What is the role of a leader?”

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

“Possibly Insane Thoughts on Ash Wednesday”

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent, which tills the soil of our lives in the weeks preceding Easter Day. The Ash Wednesday evening service at St. Stephen’s Church is one of my favorites year after year. It’s always a powerfully emotional experience to face the reality of my own mortality and – as a member of the clergy – to place ashes on the foreheads of others, especially children.

So I was moved by an interesting reflection on our embodiment as human beings and the meaning of Ash Wednesday that appeared last year on the Mockingbird blog: “Possibly Insane Thoughts on Ash Wednesday (Written on the Occasion of a Sleepless Night).” Here are the first couple of paragraphs of that reflection:

For those of us who came of age in certain fundamentalist or evangelical Protestant churches, life was a strangely disembodied affair. It is true that various sins of the flesh were railed against, but it never was in name of a truer way of actually inhabiting the world, of living joyfully within it. Instead, our bodies and the physical spaces of our existence were essentially temporary confinements, nothing but occasions for temptation, impediments to the spiritual life. Our subjugation to matter would be remedied through rapture or cataclysm – eschatology took the shape not of patient hope for the redemption of creation, which even now we groan for, but release from the grip of physicality altogether. Worship, and the religious life more generally, went ahead in spite of our bodies, with the hope of eventually transcending them altogether.

My fascination and love for Ash Wednesday only can be understood in relation to such a past, for lurking within this day’s penitential posture is a celebration of our mortal existence. It is a liturgical episode that takes our physical existence seriously. It is, perhaps surprisingly, an extraordinarily hopeful day. The superficial gloom of ashes to ashes, dust to dust, points to the paradoxical, deep truth of the Christian faith: those who lose their life will gain it. It is a day to be released . . . to live in the world.

You can read the whole article here.