Sunday, November 3, 2013

Proper 26 C - Nov 3, 2013

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. James Rostron, n/OHC
Year C - Proper 26 - Sunday, November 3, 2013

Isaiah 1:10-18
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
Luke 19:1-10



"Zacchaeus, hurry and come down" - Zacchaeus by Niels Larsen Stevns
“When he saw Jesus, he bowed with his face to the ground and begged him, ‘Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean.’”
“Two blind men followed him, crying aloud, ‘Have mercy on us, Son of David.’”
“They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him.”
“As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him.... They called out, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!’”
“She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, ‘If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.’”

There are many stories in the gospels that begin, like these, with people who come to Jesus seeking healing. And often at the conclusion of these stories Jesus says, “your faith has made you well.” But the story we heard today is different. Zacchaeus is a wealthy, seemingly healthy, individual, who does not seem to be suffering. And he does not ask Jesus for anything; he simply wants to catch a glimpse of Jesus to satisfy his curiosity about what this man looks like who has been causing such a stir. Nevertheless, Zacchaeus is saved, even though Jesus does not refer to the existence of any faith within Zacchaeus.

This unique story is found only in Luke’s gospel, and Luke has positioned it at the end of his travel account, just before Jesus enters Jerusalem. This, and the fact that it is so rich with detail, makes it very worth our while to consider the story carefully. First, we are told that Zacchaeus is a rich tax collector. He is very likely a social outcast because of his collaboration with the Roman Empire, and he would be reviled as a traitor by others in that society. It is remarkable, then, that he chooses to be present at a large, outdoor gathering where he might face the wrath or ridicule of his peers. Second, Zacchaeus climbs a tree. That is probably not something you would see a rich person doing, and it would certainly invite unwanted attention. Yet, he did show up in this great crowd, and he did climb a tree. He even ran through the crowd to get ahead of Jesus in order to do so. All of this together makes it seem clear that Zacchaeus has a strong desire to see Jesus.

Another significant detail in this story is that Zacchaeus is described as being short in stature. This is of course why he needed to climb a tree. But, symbolically, the use of the word “stature” might be telling us about more than just Zacchaeus’s physical height. It may be conveying that he is lacking in his spiritual, rather than just his bodily, growth. Still, Zacchaeus apparently had an inkling that something needed to change in his life, and he took action in climbing that tree. In doing so, Zacchaeus elevated himself above the mass of people on the ground and away from the tyrannical social order of which he was a part. He set himself above his peers and took a step toward heaven and closer to God.

Next comes, to me, the most significant, and moving, event of the story. “When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said, ... ‘[Zacchaeus,] ... hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.’” This is an amazing moment. It is the moment when Zacchaeus’s world is changed. He just wanted to see who Jesus was. While he was perhaps responding to an unrecognized and ill-defined impulse toward God, there is no indication that he intended to speak to Jesus or to ask Jesus for anything. Nevertheless, Jesus noticed him and called to him. And with such urgency: hurry, I must stay at your house. Imagine yourself in Zacchaeus’s place. “Are you talking to me!?” The closest “real-life” situation I can think of is to be standing in the front row at a concert, or waiting by the edge of a ball field, or attending a lecture and to have your favorite singer, player, author, or some other famous celebrity call to you to join them for dinner. That would be totally unexpected and pretty darn exciting, a once-in-a-lifetime event. But now, let your imagination go a step further, and put Jesus right in front of you, telling you that he must stay at your house today. That would be truly amazing!

The next detail Luke gives us is that Zacchaeus was quite happy to welcome Jesus to his home, just as you or I would likely be. This adds further support to the notion that Zacchaeus climbed the tree not simply because he was curious but because he felt drawn to Jesus, even if on a subconscious level. In response to Zacchaeus lifting himself above the crowd and toward God, Jesus reached out to Zacchaeus, thereby awakening the goodness that had lain dormant within him. Zacchaeus then stood firm in the face of the crowd’s grumbling about Jesus going to the home of a sinner, and he confirmed his desire to go in the way of Christ. “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” This is a powerful story of conversion.

One final, important detail is given next, when Jesus says to Zacchaeus, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham.” The phrasing is very universal in nature. Jesus is speaking not to Zacchaeus, but to all those present, and to us. Also, he is speaking not only about Zacchaeus but about his family, as well as the whole nation of Israel. Salvation is available to all who are descended from Abraham. Furthermore, Jesus is stating that salvation was given because Zacchaeus is a member of this nation and not because his faith has made him well. Salvation is a free gift from God. In the final sentence of the story, as Jesus is concluding his journey to Jerusalem, he declares the significance of his encounter with Zacchaeus, which is also the good news of his mission on earth: “For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

Now, of course, comes the question of how this gospel story is alive for me, and for you. An answer came to me quite unexpectedly during the past week, as I prayed with the passage and began to write down some thoughts. Early last week, I returned from a workshop hosted at a convent in Ohio. It was a wonderful event, the best part of which was the chance to meet other Anglican religious from across North America, including quite a few other novices. At one point during the week, we were offered a tour of the convent. The buildings are much newer than ours, and I found myself coveting the sisters’ clean, neat, well-functioning spaces. Their roof didn’t seem to have any leaks, like ours does, or hopefully now, did. So, I’ve found myself grumbling this week, despite Benedict’s admonishment against it, about all the flaws in our living spaces here. And, this grumbling spilled over to include all the flaws in my brothers. Living in community is indeed a challenge! I’m sure we all grumble from time to time about our various communities at work, home, and church. And there are no doubt plenty of flaws to be found, some of which, shockingly, might even be our own. And our own coworkers, family members, and fellow parishioners might be grumbling about us!

This grumbling became the background noise as I prayed with the story, and just in the past few days it dawned on me that I was in need of a tree to climb. I found a beautiful painting on Wikipedia, by Niels Larsen Stevns, of the scene described in the story. There is Zacchaeus, perched above the commotion on the ground, looking down at Jesus, whose hand is extended upwards toward Zacchaeus. Like me, I imagine Zacchaeus had his share of troubles and gripes, and he most definitely was the object of grumbling amongst his peers. Yet, I see a bubble of peacefulness surrounding him in the midst of chaos. This imperfect man followed an impulse to look toward God, to make himself available to God. God responded, and in turn Zacchaeus responded to God. And from this simple interaction came salvation for Zacchaeus.

Seeing myself in that painting, up in that tree, rising above and letting go of all the grumbling, within and around me, I asked myself, where in my life are those places, real or metaphorical, that will enable me to rise above, to disengage from, the everyday, ordinary troubles and challenges of community life and of the world, where I can make myself fully available to God and to let God know that I desire to live in God’s truth? Where are they for you? Perhaps you or I find it when we go into our room and pray. Or listen to that transforming piece of music. Or lend a hand to our neighbor. Or ponder a work of art. Or watch the sunset. Or go climb a tree. We all are Zacchaeus, whose name means “pure and righteous one.” God loves us. All that is required is that we incline our ear toward God.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

Pentecost C - May 19, 2013

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Fr. Bob Pierson, OSB 
Pentecost Year C - Sunday, May 19, 2013

Acts 2:1-21
Romans 8:14-17
John 14:8-17, 25-27

When I was a child, one of my favorite Saturday morning TV shows was a program called, “You Are There.” Each week, actors would reenact an event from American history like the Signing of the Declaration of Independence or the Crossing of the Delaware, and we would be able to watch the event unfold just as if we were part of the scene as it was happening for the first time.

Since then, I have found myself thinking about the events of Scripture in a similar way. What would the coming of the Holy Spirit be like on “You Are There?” I think it could be pretty impressive. With computer graphics being what they are today, one could come up with a very convincing violent wind, and tongues as of fire would not be hard to reproduce at all. We have the speech that Peter gave and we have some idea what first century Jerusalem might have looked like. I think it would be really great, just like it really happened with us right in the scene.

There's one small problem though. We have two accounts of the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the apostles, and the details of each scene vary dramatically. We heard the other account of the coming of the Holy Spirit a few weeks ago on the second Sunday of Easter, when John recounted his version of the story. Instead of the event occurring on Pentecost, 50 days after the Passover, John has the Spirit coming to the apostles on the night of Easter day, just a few hours after the resurrection. It's Jesus' first appearance to his disciples in the Upper Room. No violent wind, no tongues as of fire, no strange languages, just Jesus proclaiming “Peace be with you!” In Luke's account of the event in the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus has already ascended into heaven. In John's account, Jesus is with the apostles, breathing on them and saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any they are forgiven them.”

So, which account of the coming of the Holy Spirit do we give to our director for our reenactment? Which is the true account? They both appear in the Bible, and we say that the Bible is without error. Thankfully, we are not Biblical fundamentalists because, both accounts are true, and the differences between them make it difficult to pick one version as the “real” one. Each account has its value, depending on the particular point the author of that account is trying to get across in telling his version of the story.

John wants to connect the coming of the Spirit directly with the resurrection so that's why he places the event on Easter night. Luke puts it on the feast Pentecost, probably to connect the sending of the Spirit with the feast in which the Jewish people celebrate the giving of the 10 Commandments to the people of Israel. John has Jesus “breathe” the Holy Spirit on the disciples alone in the Upper Room, the place where the Last Supper occurred to link the event with the first Eucharist. Luke has the Spirit arrive in a powerful wind, calling to mind the wind that blew over the chaos “in the beginning” at creation and has the event witnessed by “devout Jews from every nation” because he wants us to remember that the gospel is not just for one group of people in one time and place but is the universal Good News for everyone to hear.

The one detail that both accounts of the coming of the Holy Spirit do have in common is that both accounts have the disciples becoming empowered by the Holy Spirit for their mission to the world. And that's the really significant point for us today, because we have also received the Holy Spirit in our baptism, and we too are called to preach the Good News of Christ's death, resurrection, and ascension to the world.

In a very real way, “we ARE there,” witnessing the power of the Holy Spirit in our midst, just as those disciples experienced the Holy Spirit in their lives. The Holy Spirit reminds us again and again that we ARE God's children, right now, and if we are God's children, as Paul tells us in Romans 8, then we are also “heirs of God.” We are adopted members of the GOD family, and we have the same Holy Spirit the disciples received to live out our call to serve, to preach, to heal, and to baptize.

God the Holy Spirit is our Advocate, our defense attorney, pleading our cause and teaching us everything we need to know to live the life of Christ today. Christ's peace is in our hearts as it was in the hearts of those disciples, and we are called to share that peace with the world. We continue to be empowered with the gifts of the Holy Spirit to be the body of Christ in our world today. We are anointed by the Spirit “to be prophets to [God's] people, to be apostles to the world, to be confessors of [the] Gospel and of the wonders [God has] done for us.” “Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and kindle in us the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and we shall be created, and you shall renew the face of the earth.”

Friday, April 26, 2013

Easter 4 C - Apr 21, 2013

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Sr. Shane Phelan, Companion of Mary the Apostle
Easter 4C - Sunday, April 21, 2013

Acts 9:36-43
Revelation 7:9-17
John 10:22-30

Icon of the Good Shepherd.
From the web site of the Oratory of the Good Shepherd.
I don’t know about you, but I need a shepherd this week.

I need someone to tell me that love continues, that life continues.

I’ve been listening to NPR and reading the New York Times. You might have been watching CNN. I’m grateful not to have a TV this week, because I’d be watching and listening to those voices.

I need to hear my shepherd’s voice.

I need to hear Peter tell me to get up and get back to work.

I need to join the throng before the throne, lifting my voice in response.

To do any of that, I have to fight my way through the other voices. You know those fancy noise-canceling earphones? I want those.

I think of being in an airplane. You get earphones, and you can listen to music or movies, but you never really get rid of the sounds around you in the plane. To do that, to really enter the world of the music and the film, you need special earphones.

I want those.

This week has been unusually horrific for those of us who live in normally quiet places, places with housing and food and some sort of safety. But what we are facing with shock is other people’s everyday life. In Iraq, in Afghanistan, in some neighborhoods in Chicago, people are shot or blown up every day. In Greece, where unemployment is running at 27%, many people are too hungry to study or to work. In places where women are expected to stay hidden, many run the risk of rape or attack just to go to school or work. So this week I grieve for Boston and for West, Texas, but I also grieve for all those places where violence and loss and oppression are normal.

I need to hear my shepherd’s voice.

I’ve been reading Charles Taylor’s magnum opus, A Secular Age. He traces how Western Christendom came to the place where atheism seems not only possible, but reasonable. How did we get to a place where so many can’t hear God in their lives, where God became irrelevant? And what does that have to do with the violence around us?

There have been two stock answers to this question. The traditional, fundamentalist answer is that violence is a result of people turning away from God, that bad things happen either because God is angered (in the case of natural disasters and accidents) or because sinful people do sinful things.

The atheist answer is that religion is a cause of intolerance and hatred, that violence flows out of religion.

These two extremes, which seem like opposites, actually share a conception of God. In that conception, God is angry and quick to punish. God is allied with one tribe and rejoices in the destruction of others. People who hear the voice of that God are indeed likely to justify violence, at least when it comes on their behalf.

But the people who reject that God too often miss the shepherd's voice, the loving voice that calls us all. They put on the noise-canceling earphones, but they don't open the channel to the sound of love.

Taylor suggests that in fact the two sides, secularists and fundamentalists, share a drive to purge the world of evil, to erase the messy parts of us. When that drive is at work, we narrow our world into two categories: evildoers and victims. And that feeds our hunger for violence. The riot of violence on our TV and movie screens, in our schools and in our streets, testifies to the real, deep attraction of violence. Our desire to deny that in ourselves ironically plays into the need to purge, and so we become part of the problem.

As long as we need to purge, we will keep killing. Some will kill for safety, some for honor, some for the sheer adrenaline high. Some will kill in a sick version of religious ecstasy, the only form available in a world where sacred mystery is seen as superstition.

In such a world, we cannot hope to hear our shepherd’s voice.

For Jesus consistently went to people on the wrong side: not only the poor, but to the many who live their lives in a shape greater than evildoer or victim.

He came to Peter, who was not done with weakness and failure.

Through Peter, and through a chain of others, he came to Dorcas.

He came to the throng before the throne, who in their lives heard that voice and answered.

Jesus knew that violence lives in us. He did not seek to purge it. He transformed it. By undergoing violence, he transformed the violence. He overcame the fear of violence not by controlling it for his own ends, but by overcoming fear and offering himself. He faced into the violence with love, and in so doing he changed everything. The shepherd laid down his life for the sheep, and opened the gate to life.

The noise of the world tells us that our safety lies in revenge and extermination. It tells us that we need bigger gates and walls. It drowns out the voices of need, and silences the voice of hope and mercy.

The louder that noise gets, the more we need to listen for the shepherd. We need quiet time, prayer time, time with friends and family. We need to seek out the voices of forgiveness and reconciliation. And we need to add our voices to the choir of worship and praise.

What we do here, in this monastery and in this extended community, is life saving work. Helping people hear the shepherds voice is not just nice. It is part of repairing the world. In a world of meaninglessness and rage, the shepherd calls us to transforming love.

The only sound louder than violence is love.

We don't really need the noise-canceling earphones, as attractive as they can be. We need the ones that let us hear the cries of need, let us hear the chaos of the world, but still send us the sweet sound of our shepherd's voice.

We need the sound of love.

Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor 
and power and might
be to our God forever and ever!
Amen.