The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

Trinity Sunday Year. B

Isaiah. 6:1-8; Romans 8:12-17; 

John 3:1-17

St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC 5/31/2015

Jim Melnyk: “The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship”

 It is perhaps one of the most iconic film endings in history.  Expatriate Rick Blaine and Captain Renault are seen from behind as they walk away from the runway where Ilsa’s plane has just left.  As they merge into the darkness and enveloping fog Rick comments, “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

           

Louie’s and Rick’s friendship is based in part on intrigue, the rising power of Nazi Germany, and Rick’s lost love.  It’s a symbiotic relationship that seems to be at least as much about business opportunities as it is about being friends.  We are left to imagine what Louie and Rick make of their freedom when they leave Casablanca.

           

The friendship we celebrate today is one founded in mystery rather than by intrigue, in mercy and grace rather than power over others, and in the very foundations of love rather than a love that has been lost.  The very friendship of God spoken about by Jesus in the upper room before his arrest, and realize in that same room in the evening on Easter Day, finds its birth in the very heart of God from before time – and is spoken about in our doctrine of the Holy Trinity.

           

Those of you who had a chance to read my reflection in the June newsletter that came out a couple of days ago will recognize the words of Anglican Scholar Dom Gregory Dix who wrote: “Ever in the Holy Trinity, the Father gives Himself to the Son and the Son to the Father in a torrent of love which is the Holy Ghost… in an unending dance of love… the perfect love of the perfect lover for the perfectly beloved, perfectly achieved and perfectly returned forever”(Citation lost).

           

Dix was not the first who sought to explain the mystery of the Holy Trinity using the language of Lover, Beloved, and Love.   St. Augustine, writing in the early fifth century did the same.  In response to those images brought up the other night during our conversations at Theology on Draft, mention was made that this imagery seems to elevate the first two persons of the Trinity – Lover and Beloved – while the third person seems more ambiguous.  This may be because we can imagine human form for Lover and Beloved, but Love seems more like a feeling than a person.

           

To even begin describing the Triune God with the language of dance and love is to begin to understand the essence of God to be relationship, and to understand God as the essence of relationship – the very ground of all that ever was – all that is – and all that ever will be.  In that case, Love becomes an incarnate experience of the first two persons.  The Dance becomes that which binds the two dancers into one fluid motion, and in essence is realized as a third person, all of whom are moving as one.

What we come to understand about God is this: it is not the external actions that we attribute to God that informs the distinctions between the persons of the Holy Trinity, but rather their internal relationship – “the perfect love of the perfect lover for the perfectly beloved.”

By now I’ve managed to inadvertently describe the Holy Trinity in one form of heresy or another – it is really all but impossible to actually define the Oneness of the Triune God without making a mess of it all.  And so we fall back on the mystery that is God: who though One, is also known to us in Three.

We come to know God who, as one author puts it, “seeks out multiple ways of relating to us in love” (Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, Michaela Bruzzese, 5/31/2015).  Whether we hear a God who calls from a lofty throne, surrounded by incense and mystical beasties as in our lesson from Isaiah, or we hear a God who calls to us from the dusty streets of Galilee or the hard wood of the cross, or we hear a God who whispers to us from within the deepest recesses of our souls and bodies, we hear the call of One God – a God who creates us, who loves us, and who chooses to live within us.

Trinity Sunday is meant, at least in part, to remind us that we have come to know a God whose name – whose essence, actually – is “Relationship.”   And Trinity Sunday invites us to not only worship the Mystery of our Triune God, but to participate in that Mystery as well.  To join in the torrent of love that flows between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – to join in the unending dance of love that is God.

Augustine, who gave us the beautiful image of Lover, Beloved, and Love, also reminds us that as God’s beloved creatures – as beings created in the image and likeness of God – we bear the full image of God within – that we are created in the image of the fullness of the Holy Trinity. It follows then that this Jesus, who shares our humanity – this Jesus is the incarnation of the fullness of God – the Trinity in human flesh.  To become Christ-like in our baptism is to more fully realize and share the image of the fullness of God in our lives.

One way we might share in the Holy Dance of God is in the ways we relate to one another as people created in the image of God.  Reflecting on the Truth and Reconciliation Process in South Africa Desmond Tutu writes, “The Zulu greeting sawubona literally means a lot more than a passing ‘hello.’ It means ‘I see you’ in the sense of recognizing and acknowledging who someone is and the context within which he or she operates.”  Tutu explains that “Nayabonana is the reciprocal ‘we see one another.’” 

 

Tutu goes on to tell a story about an early encounter with a Methodist Biblewoman living in rural South Africa.  “Sensing one morning that for me sawubona was little more than a formal greeting, [she] decided to challenge me.  She explained: ‘The word sawubona reminds me to stop, to look at you, and to acknowledge you anew each time we meet, before we deal with the business of the day.’  I carry her words with me.” (Walk with Us and Listen: Political Reconciliation in Africa, By Charles Villa-Vicencio, pages 66-67) This, in part, is what Tutu means when he speaks about Ubuntu theology – our recognition of our shared humanity in the presence of God.

It has been suggested that “if we truly look someone in the eyes, we are never again able to look away from that person” (ibid).  And perhaps that’s what is behind the ancient customs of Ubuntu and sawubona.   Perhaps truly looking someone in the eyes and never again being able to look away is the truth behind the powerful imagery of what it means to be created in the image of the Divine, and finally the truth behind the mystery and the poetic beauty of the eternal dance of love that is the Blessed Trinity.

We most significantly live into the image of God within each of us when we recognize our common humanity – when we stop and truly look one another in the eyes and allow ourselves to be captivated by our common humanity – when we live into our baptismal vows to respect one another’s dignity and work for justice and peace for all people.

Trinity Sunday reminds us that the very essence of God is relationship – and as creatures that bear the very stamp of God’s image upon our brows and within our hearts – relationship must truly be the essence of who we are as well – a reality which invites us into the never ending dance of love that is the Holy Trinity – that is God.  And that, my friends, is truly the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Puttinhg Skin On Our Bones

Pentecost, Year B; Ezk 37:1-14; Acts 2:1-21; Jn 15:26-27; 16:4b-15

St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC 5/24/2015, Jim Melnyk

“Putting Skin On Our Bones!”

The Holy Spirit – the Comforter – the Advocate – the Spirit of Truth – whichever name we use – the Holy Spirit often gets short shrift in the Episcopal Church – pushed to the back of the stories – talked about in hushed tones.  Perhaps it’s so we don’t come across sounding too much like one of those Pentecostal Churches where they wave their arms in the air and speak in tongues and such.  After all, we are Episcopalians – we are therefore proper folk.  We don’t dance in the aisles – well, hardly ever.  We find it hard to clap our hands and bop with the music, no matter how much it makes us want to do so.  And we never – never – eat meat with our salad forks!       

But today – today the Holy Spirit takes center stage in our liturgies throughout Christendom, and it is “right, and a good and joyful thing” for us to do!  And while the Holy Spirit unleashed in our lives might lead us – hopefully leads us – to step outside our comfort zones from time to time – we acknowledge this day that God’s Spirit is the glue that holds not only our own lives, but the whole of creation together.

Methodist Pastor Jason Byassee writes, “Without the Spirit, all is chaos, unformed, empty (Genesis 1).  But the Lord sends forth the Spirit and all things are created, [and, as the Psalmist proclaims,] God renews the face of the [earth].  Jesus says we [should] want him to go away, so the Advocate can come, the Spirit, who leads us into all truth (John 15-16). Before the coming of the Spirit, the disciples are a huddled-up band of betrayers and deniers. With the Spirit they go into all the world, baptizing, teaching, meeting violent deaths. Without the Spirit, all peoples are divided, unrelated. With the Spirit we are one body, [older and young, women and men,] dreaming dreams together” (Sojourners online, Preaching the Word, 5/24/2015).

It is the Spirit or Breath of God that is breathed into the first lumps of clay – the first scoops of dust – animating and bringing life to that which is created in God’s own image.  It is the Breath of God – or the Wind of God – which separates the waters of the sea and allows God’s people to continue their journey of freedom from Pharaoh’s oppressive yoke.  It is the Spirit of God which fills the prophets and places God’s word upon their tongues, and it’s the Spirit of God who enfolds the young woman, Mary, as God puts on human flesh – takes on skin and bones – to dwell among us and lead us into new life.

In essence, Pentecost challenges us to put our skin in the game – to step forward and claim our faith, knowing that God’s Holy Spirit within us guides, directs, and empowers us to take the risk of being faithful witnesses of the Gospel.  We see this clearly in our lesson from Ezekiel – where God steps onto the scene in the midst of Israel’s absolute brokenness – in the midst of exile and loss – “turning dry bones into living, skin-on creatures – Israel restored…. The Spirit is world-creating, renewing, restoring, [and always] making all things new” (ibid).  God has a renewed vision for us – a renewed vision for the face of the earth – and we are invited to participate in the fullness of that vision.

Over the past couple of weeks we’ve talked some about the incredible understanding of the friendship of God – about how we are called into a relationship of mutuality – what theologian Bob Hughes calls “a rough equality” with God – a relationship made possible solely through God’s own choosing.  Perhaps another image might be a junior partnership on our part.  We are invited by God to participate in God’s revisioning of creation – not as servants or slaves – not as pawns in some great cosmic chess game – but as people created in God’s own image and called from the very first days in the garden to share in the creative processes of this world.    

That friendship with God, proclaimed and acted out by Jesus in the upper room before his death, comes to fruition with the gift of the Holy Spirit – given later in that same upper room according to John, and at what we have come to call the Feast of Pentecost according to Luke.  It is a friendship that comes to fruition with a call – to once again recognize ourselves as God’s own beloved – and with a charge – being sent out into the world to proclaim the Good News of God’s saving love for this world.

The gift of Holy Spirit to the followers of Jesus tears down the locked doors of the upper room and drives them out to places they never imagined going – leads them into lives they never envisioned living – sharing a hope and promise that at one time in their lives they could barely dream possible – all of it at once both terrifying and terribly alluring.  God calling God’s people to not only bear God’s image upon our brows and in our hearts – but also challenging us – driving us – pushing us – to live that image as faithful followers of Christ.

Pentecost is the promise of God to put skin on our bones, breathe life into our lungs, and light a fire in our bellies, in our eyes, and in our hearts.  Pentecost says to those in exile, “Come home!” Pentecost says to those in power, “Let Go!” Pentecost says to those whose eyes have been blinkered or blinded, “Be opened,” and to those who have been silenced, “Speak out!”  Pentecost says to the broken-hearted, “You are beloved” and to the broken, “I will heal you.”  Pentecost says to those who are anxious, “Peace!” and to those who are complacent, “Get up and get moving!” 

Pentecost is a feast of action!  Christmas may cause our hearts to pause and adore – and Easter stops us in mid-stride and fills us with awe.  But Pentecost – Pentecost demands that we live like people whose hair is on fire!  Pentecost says to us, “Don’t just stand there, get moving – do something!”  Pentecost is the Dream of God made alive in our hearts as the Holy Spirit enfolds us and fills us with the very Breath of God!

Bishop Curry loves to quote his grandmother who once told him, “If you’re breathing, God is calling.”  If you’re breathing – if we are breathing – it’s because God has put that very breath in our lungs.  And if we’re breathing, then God is calling us to work – God is calling us to ministry in this place, St. Paul’s – in Smithfield – in the surrounding communities many of us call home – and well beyond those boundaries.

The gift of Holy Spirit to each of us as followers of Jesus wants to bust down the red doors of this place and drive us out to places we have never imagined going – lead us into lives we may never have envisioned living – sharing a hope and promise that at one time in our lives we could barely dream possible – and all of it may be at once both terrifying and terribly alluring.  But that’s what Pentecost is all about – the dream of God – the hope of God – catching fire in our hearts and filling us with desire to share God’s dream.  And perhaps that’s why so many Christians shy away from getting too caught up in talking about the Holy Spirit.

In a few moments we will join with Christians across the globe in renewing our baptismal covenant.  It is a reminder of that point in time when we were each sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever. 

We will renew our commitment to gather together regularly for instruction, fellowship, and meeting Christ in the holy sacrament of bread and wine.  We will renew our commitment to live a life of grace – loving one another and our neighbor, and seeking God’s love and forgiveness when we fail.  And we will promise once again to “get up and do something” as we seek to live into the dream God has not just for us – a few chosen people gathered out of a world of so many – but God’s dream for all of creation.

God has put skin on our bones and breath in our lungs.  God has written God’s name upon our brows and placed the fire of Holy Spirit in our hearts.  We just need to get up and do something about it!

I Just Want to Be Sure of You

Easter 7B; John 17:6-19; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 5/17/2015

Jim Melnyk: “Finding a Sure Home”

Winnie the Pooh is standing at the edge of the 100 Acre Wood, quietly watching a most glorious sunset.  Suddenly Piglet is standing beside him, slipping his tiny “hand” into Pooh’s.  “Pooh,” he says rather timidly.  “Yes, Piglet,” replies Pooh-Bear.   “Nothing,” sighs Piglet.  “I just want to be sure of you.”

           

We all have something – or some things – we would like to be sure of, don’t we?  “Mommy!  Daddy!  There’s a monster under my bed!”  “Mom, Dad, what if she says ‘no’ when I ask her out?” or “What if he doesn’t ask me out?”  “How do I know if he/she is the right one?”  “Is this the job I should go after?” “Am I in the next round of layoffs or am I safe for now?”  “Do I risk this surgery?”  “What should I do about the guy I always see asking for help at the stoplight near the grocery store?”  “God, are you really there?”  We all have something – or some things – we would like to be sure of, don’t we?

           

Today’s Gospel lesson speaks to that hope – that need – we all feel in our lives.  Jesus prays for his disciples just prior to facing the cross – that they will know themselves to be beloved and protected by God.  On the flip side of the coin, I believe a careful reading of the text handed down to us also shows us a Jesus who wants to be sure of a few things, himself, before his world turns upside down and rabid.  “I’m praying this prayer out loud, Father – Abba – because I want my disciples to be sure of you – but also because I need to be sure of you – and sure of myself – as well.  Oh, God, I’m not so sure I can face this test!  I’m not so sure I can really drink this cup – or that I want to drink it, either.  I just want to be sure of you, God.  I just want to be sure.”

           

You see, on the surface none of this suffering Messiah stuff makes any sense.  Dying, yet we live?  It makes no sense.  Embracing the cross on behalf of a world that doesn’t seem to care – that in fact is often adversarial at best?  It makes no sense.  Our following Jesus who says to us, “Take up your cross and follow me?”  Our following Jesus who says to us, “Follow me and the world will hate you?”  It makes no sense.  It should make us feel uncomfortable – like having monsters under the bed.

           

Throughout what we call Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse,” from John 13 up to the garden, or his “High Priestly Prayer,” which we read from today, we come to learn Jesus’ ultimate hope for humanity – his ultimate hope for us – a transfiguring union for us with God.  Following up with last week’s exploration of friendship with God, theologian Bob Hughes adds, “As we grow in union with God (“All mine are yours, and yours are mine,” Jesus tells us), as we grow in union with God, whatever virtue we have comes more and more to be a participation in God’s own perfection(s).  This is like the effect of friendship with a truly great human person whose excellences of character ‘rub off’ on us.” (Robert Davis Hughes III, Beloved Dust: Tides of the Spirit in the Christian Life, 2008, P 299)   Imagine having God ‘rub off’ on us – pretty cool, huh?  Hughes goes on to say, “The love of God for us, and our love of God for God’s own goodness,” becomes the central motivating factor of our lives, leading us to also love “that which our great Friend [Jesus] loves,” loving our neighbor – a love that “flows naturally, directly, and inevitably from [our] love of God” (ibid).

           

 All of which points to the totally incarnational aspects of our faith.  We are not meant to follow Jesus or love God on some abstract level surrounded solely by theological constructs.  We don’t look to theory or sentimental platitudes to find our assurances of God’s presence and God’s love in our lives.  Rather, we see God’s presence – we come to understand what it means to be called God’s own people – we come to understand union with the Divine – in and through the everydayness of life, and the ways in which we live out all those theological constructs in community with one another.  Because in the end, “love of God cannot be seen reliably… the only visible measure we have for someone’s progress in the spiritual life is an increase of effective love for the neighbor” (ibid).

           

Author and Christian activist Robert Roth writes, “It is one thing to live our lives sleepily in this world, yet quite another to adopt an incarnational faith that causes us to engage with history—specifically people who need our love—by heading into the world where we already live.  In extending Jesus’ resurrection love into the world, we go with others, and we go empowered: ‘As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world’ (John 17:18)” (Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, 5/17/2015).  This is what our bishops mean when they talk with us about going into Galilee.  In the midst of all that, it’s no wonder we feel a need to be sure of something – of someone – beyond us.  It can leave us wanting to find a loving hand to hold in the uncertainties of life.

As adults we realize that when we were little, at the best of times our parents comforted us when we were hurting or scared.  We felt one with them when they checked for monsters under the bed, held us when we were sick or hurting, and encouraged us when we felt lost.  But when they were at their best, they also taught us to stand on our own two feet and sleep in our own rooms – eventually even without a nightlight.  They taught us that even in the midst of all of life’s uncertainties, there are things of which we can be certain – most assuredly among those things being the presence and love of God.

           

That’s the whole flip-side of the assurance thing.  God in Christ assures us of God’s love for us – assures us of God’s ongoing presence in our lives that will come with the gift of the Holy Spirit – which we will celebrate on the Feast of Pentecost next Sunday.  God reaches over (as opposed to “down”) – God reaches over and takes us by the hand – names us God’s own beloved – and then – and then – once empowered by the gift of Holy Spirit in our lives, sends us out into the world to love and serve God by loving and serving our neighbor – any and every neighbor – even the neighbors we have chosen not to like so much – even those who don’t like us very much. 

And that’s the challenge, isn’t it? We cannot just stop and bask in the comfort and love of God without understanding that God’s love is meant to move us to action, because theologically things like comfort and love are as much – if not more – verbs than they are nouns.  There is always a “therefore” that comes with realizing the sureness of God’s presence with, and for us.  We are, in essence, “Therefore People.” 

God loves us and calls us – God is present with us, which is the whole purpose behind the incarnation – God taking on human flesh and dwelling among us – therefore, we are called to live out that love – that presence – in our own lives and for the life of this world.  Which begs the questions: “When and where do you need comfort in your life? When and where is God sending you out to bring comfort and hope for others – for family – for friends – for our neighbor – for the stranger or sojourner among us?

           

In the end, we find our deepest place – our deepest home – in God when we listen to, hear, and follow the desire of Jesus that we become one with one another and one with God.  It is in our desire for – and the acting out of – our oneness, that we finally understand the reasons behind loving one another and caring for and with one another.  And it is in our oneness – our oneness with each other and our oneness with God in Christ – that we can make a difference in this world – that we can make a difference in people’s lives – because alone we can only do so much – but together we can help God change a world.

Pyramid Busters

Easter 6B; Acts 10:44-48; 1 Jn. 5:1-6; Jn. 15:9-17; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC

Jim Melnyk: “Pyramid Busters”

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never stood in person before the great pyramids of Egypt.  Nor have I stood before the stepped pyramids of Mexico, Central, or South America.  I have never stood before any of the ancient pyramids – but believe it or not, I happen to live in a pyramid.  In fact, I’ll venture to say most of the modern day cultures live in a pyramid, without even realizing we do.

           

For the most part we all live in top-down societies – pyramid schemes, as it were, which have most of the status, authority, and power invested at or near the top.  Some of us are higher up on the pyramid, and some are lower, but we all live somewhere along the slope.  Those at the tippy-top of the pyramid stay there as long as the rest of us are spread out below, creating the foundation of the whole structure.  And that’s the way things should stay, those at the top tell us. 

After all, a pyramid flipped around and stood on its point will simply topple over, we are told by the best pyramid makers – there just isn’t another way to make it work – to make a sound structure – they proclaim.

           

Enter Jesus – the preeminent Servant Leader – one who came among us “not to be served, but to serve” (Mk 10:45; Mt 20:28).  Jesus is One who comes among us and exercises power with God’s people, rather than power over them – a pyramid buster if there ever was one.  In fact, the only times Jesus ever went all “pyramid” on anyone was when he was casting out unclean spirits – or that one time in the Temple with the whip.  Even when Jesus argues with Pharisees, we should see those exchanges as more of an “in house” debate between rabbis – recognizing their common call as leaders in their communities rather than a power play on the part of the Prince of Peace.

           

As we mentioned in last week’s sermon, earlier in John’s Gospel, while in the same upper room, Jesus models servant leadership by offering bread and wine as a sacrament of his self-giving love – which he then models further in washing his disciples’ feet.  We see the commandment to love, along with the commandment to abide in God’s love, in last week’s lessons and then again at the beginning of today’s lesson, becoming central themes of Jesus’ teaching in John’s work.  To those themes, Jesus adds one more:  the promise of God’s friendship with us through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. 

           

One of my former seminary professors, Bob Hughes, likened the shift we see in today’s Gospel lesson to a “shift in our vocation, or, perhaps better, a deeper insight into our vocation…focused helpfully in Jesus’ startling statement, ‘I no longer call you servants, but friends’” (Robert Davis Hughes III, Beloved Dust: Tides of the Spirit in the Christian Life, 2008, p 264).  There are at least two characteristics of this shift in vocation.  First, a servant in the first century “merely obeys orders without question,” whereas Jesus invites his disciples into a place of shared communion and purpose, telling them everything the Father has told him.   “The Second difference strikes even deeper: ‘Greater love has no one than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends…. This,” Hughes writes, “puts a unique spin on Romans 5:8, ‘While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’ God is our friend before we are ready to be God’s friends in return” (ibid).  Jesus displays God’s ultimate friendship for and with us through his death on the cross, and he commands us to “love one another as he has loved us, that is, with a like friendship” (ibid, p 342).

           

Think about friendship for a moment – and how delightful and humbling the idea of friendship with God can and should be!  Hughes reminds us that friendship requires “at least a rough equality between the parties to the relationship,” and that one cannot truly be a friend to one’s servant or slave – because there can be no mutuality.

           

Indeed, if we recall another statement by Jesus in John’s Gospel, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9), we can come to understand Jesus as the outward and visible sign of God – Jesus, in essence, is the sacrament of the Holy Trinity – Jesus is the sacrament of God!  When we see Jesus, we catch a glimpse of the fullness of God.  And so we might even join with Bob Hughes in understanding Jesus as “the sacrament of the friendship between God and humanity… making it possible for [us] to grow into [our] vocation as ‘friends of God’” (op cit, 265).

           

Jesus calls us his friends – Jesus bestows upon us the worthiness of being God’s friends – a rough sense of cooperation and mutuality that is not inherently ours to claim, but rather something received by the grace of God in and through Jesus and the indwelling of God’s Holy Spirit.  Perhaps Jesus calls us friends because he catches a glimpse of God’s image in us – given at the dawn of our creation. Perhaps Jesus calls us friends because in sharing our humanity, Jesus understands all the challenges of recognizing that image of God in one another, and allowing that image to shine in and through us.

           

And as one commentator puts it, “When Jesus names the disciples his friends he changes the shape of things—the community is not to be a pyramid but a circle. The notion of friendship supplants hierarchy with a certain mutuality and equality. Above all friendship implies freedom. Not to mention delight in one another’s presence, that love which is ‘joy complete’” (Bill Wylie-Kellermann, Sojourners, Preaching the Word, 5/10/2015).

           

“Friendship theologies” have been around for a long, long time in the Church, but in a world of pyramid builders, this particular metaphor for the work of Christ gets shuffled to the bottom of the deck (or the bottom of the pyramid) simply because it turns life inside out and upside down. 

Even by the time we get to Acts 10 – which is today’s lesson – there is a set way to invite or initiate people into the life of the Church.  Step one: hear the Word.  Step two get baptized, and step three: receive the Holy Spirit.  On top of that, if you happened to be a gentile, it meant converting to Judaism first - and you guys out there... we don't even want to talk about what that entails! 

In today’s lesson from Acts, Peter proclaims the Good News, and the Holy Spirit smashes the pyramid of power by coming upon the listeners – gentiles at that – before they had a chance to be baptized – which they were.  Events like that shook the pyramid that was the beginnings of the organized Church – and would lead to a serious argument in Acts 15 regarding entry of gentiles into the Church as gentile followers of Jesus – and argument won by grace and a Gospel of full inclusion for gentiles.

           

Jesus is the pyramid buster par excellence.  Torah loving and Torah faithful, Jesus distains ways in which our humanity can get in the way of our relationships with God and each other and he invites us to share in his proclamation of Good News and the inbreaking of God’s kingdom on earth.  

 In this, Jesus calls us first to cultivate the friendship of God in our lives, which in and of itself can seem daunting – friends with God?  How can that be?  Jesus calls us his friends, and therefore we are compelled to live with one another as friends of Christ; being filled with the Holy Spirit promised us by Jesus on the very night he was betrayed and eventually handed over to Rome.

           

When we realize that Jesus calls his disciples friends, even as he sees the handwriting of his arrest and execution written on the wall, we may also come to understand that the friendship of God offered in and through Jesus has nothing at all to do with our actions –has nothing to do with any sort of equal ground based on our own lives – but a friendship that comes solely at the discretion and desire of the God who creates us, who loves us, and who, by the gift of the Holy Spirit, lives within us.  Fortified with that knowledge, we can indeed cultivate, through Word and Sacrament – through prayer and service – our friendship with God.

Being faithful to the call of friendship, we are then called by Jesus to be pyramid busters ourselves; which can be even more daunting than thinking about our friendship with God, if only because it carries with it all the risks of standing before power with a critical voice. 

Reading the Gospels we come to know a Jesus who stands against the systems that not only create poverty, but that actively sustain that poverty for the wellbeing of others.  We come to know a Jesus who disdains the mindset that embraces retribution over reconciliation – that embraces a fear of scarcity over a spirit of generosity – or a mindset that values justice without it being tempered by mercy.  We come to know a Jesus speaks against a world that values war over diplomacy – that still sees color instead of character – gender and age over personhood – and we have to ask ourselves, “What would our friend Jesus have to say about all this?  What would our friend Jesus have us do?”  And then we have to act – we have to bust down those pyramids so that all may join the circle of God’s love.

At times it quite frankly blows my mind to think about being friends with the God of all creation – it seems impossible, remembering what we say each Ash Wednesday – how we are but dust, and that to dust we shall return.  How can God be friends with dust?  But then I realize we have a friend in pretty high places – Jesus – and I hear my seminary professor remind me – we may be dust, but we are “beloved dust,” and that, my friends, gives me hope.