Instant Christians?

Lent 2B, Gen.17:1-7, 15-16; Mark 8:31-38; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 2/25/2018

 

Jim Melnyk: “Instant Christians?”

The other day I was reminded of a fun story with an interesting connection to today’s lessons from Genesis and Mark.  Back in the 80’s the Ukrainian-born comedian Yakov Smirnoff came on the scene.  “When he first came to the United States from [the then Soviet Union] he was not prepared for the incredible variety of instant products available in American grocery stores. He says, “On my first shopping trip, I saw powdered milk—you just add water, and you get milk. Then I saw powdered orange juice—you just add water, and you get orange juice. And then I saw baby powder, and I thought to myself, ‘What a country!’”

Smirnoff is joking, but there are many who make these assumptions about Christian Transformation—that people change instantly [and permanently, when they come into relationship with God, and then we’re disappointed when we blunder.] There’s the belief that when someone gives his or her life to Christ, there is an immediate, substantive, in-depth, miraculous change in habits, attitudes, and character. But in reality there is no quick fix to the brokenness we experience in our lives. We can’t just go to church as if we are going to the grocery store: Powdered Christian. Just add water and disciples are born… (Author not cited in Synthesis).

And all kidding aside, many Christians tend to teach this form of Instant Transformation – and we have our own version in the Episcopal Church, don’t we?  Just add water!  I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit – and after a bit of chrism across the forehead we are “marked as Christ’s own forever.” 

But, the waters of Baptism aren’t some magical potion we sprinkle or pour on the dehydrated souls of our loved ones to get instant, mature-in-the-faith Christians.  Holy Baptism reminds us that we are God’s own beloved – that we belong to the household of God – but living into that promise is a life-long journey with many twists and turns along the way, with all kinds of roadblocks and wilderness desserts along the way.  And even though those called by Jesus in Mark’s gospel respond immediately, they have a long row to hoe before they really get what Jesus is teaching – they don’t become full-fledged followers of Jesus until they experience not only the cross, but the resurrection as well.

Today’s lessons from Genesis and Mark are like two exams – two tests – I suspect we struggle to pass every day.  In Genesis 17 God comes once again to Abram saying to him, “I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless.”  But Abram is far from an instant disciple. 

This is the THIRD time God has had to pop in on Abram.  The promise is first made in chapter 12, when Abram and Sarai are called to leave their home and go to a land God will show them along the way.  The two start out okay – they even get to where God wants them to be, but as far as the Promise is concerned, Abram and Sarai get sidetracked.  God shows up in again in chapter 15 to remind Abram of the Promise, and then again in today’s lesson.  “Pay attention, Abram!  Why do I have to keep reminding you?”  The desire to follow is there for Abram, but the follow through is a struggle.

And then there’s that bit about Abram needing to be “blameless,” which sounds like instant goodness, doesn’t it?  But the meaning of the word in Hebrew isn’t about living in some state of “moral purity,” as if one could suddenly – instantly – become perfect.  In this context being “blameless” means offering our “complete loyalty” to God.  Abraham will continue to struggle with God’s call in his life – he will be anything but an “Instant Disciple” – he will certainly never be accused of having it all together – but he will remain loyal – he will remain faithful – despite his faults – and that’s a challenge for us. 

This brings me to the second test I’m sure we would have found challenging as a first century follower of Jesus, and a test I suspect most of us often struggle to pass today as a twenty-first century followers of Christ. Having just been named the Christ of God by Peter, Jesus pronounces his impending crucifixion – throwing Peter and the others for a loop.  Jesus then gathers the whole crowd around and says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their own cross and follow me.” 

Taking up our cross isn’t as simple as giving up chocolate or beer, TV, or Facebook for Lent.  Jesus is calling us to follow his example – calling us to be willing to give up our own lives if it could help turn the world to God’s dream for creation – to God’s dream of a just, merciful and compassionate world.   

Carrying our own cross could mean being vilified, ridiculed, or even threatened with death for our willingness to take a stand for justice. We certainly see that happening to many youth in the news today.  It could mean living with chronic illness or pain, or being willing to lovingly give up some of our own freedom to care for a loved one who is chronically or critically ill.  It could mean letting one of our children or a spouse fall down in the midst of an addiction – knowing that if we continually jump in to rescue them they may never find recovery.  There are so many ways to carry a cross – a cross that is much more than a temporary inconvenience or annoyance in our lives.  And that’s hard stuff – even scary stuff at times.

Those listening to Jesus know they are being asked to follow, and in its deepest sense, accept the death penalty for doing so.  There is no other way of understanding the cross for those who, throughout their lifetimes, saw thousands of crosses dotting the landscape like obscene Roman-built picket fences along the highway.  And I’m not sure, faced with that reality, how I would have stood up as a first century follower of Jesus – even in spite of the resurrection.

Not long ago I came across a fitting passage: “The life which you, and we, and Jesus [choose] at our baptisms is a life where day by day we must [elect] to love, and not to hate, to be friends and not enemies, to forgive and not hold grudges, to heal and help and hold and not to injure, wound and scar.  It is the choice to live such a life that eventually [costs] Jesus his own” (Brother James Koester, Brother Give Us a Word).  “Take up your cross, the Savior said, if you would my disciple be; take up your cross with willing heart, and humbly follow after me” (Charles William Everest, The Hymnal 1982, 675).

Abram’s witness calls us to be blameless before God – not morally perfect – not holier than thou – but rather to be completely loyal to the One who promises us life.  Christ calls us to carry our own crosses with all the harsh reality the cross can mean – to stand in the breach on behalf of all God’s people – to follow the Way of Jesus in all of its paradoxical glory – because in the end, taking up our cross and following Jesus is the way that leads to life. 

Perhaps, my friends, we don’t need to pass the test after all – Hey, even Abram, who spoke with God, and the disciples, who walked with Jesus, couldn’t pass the test with flying colors.  That’s where God’s grace, and love, and mercy, come in.  Perhaps, in the end, we just need to be willing to sit for the exam. Amen.

Called to be Our True Selves

Lent 1B; Mark 1:9-15; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 2/18/2018

Jim Melnyk: “Called to be Our True Selves”

Ever heard the phrase, “You are what you eat?”  There certainly is some truth behind it – and I can often pretty much tell what I’ve been eating lately by how I’m feeling – and sometimes by how I look.  Can you say, “Burgers and fries?”  And don’t we teach that very thing in the Church?  We come to the holy table to receive the body and blood of Christ, believing that we, indeed, that in that act we become the body of Christ ourselves.

But there’s another comparison out there that also has a ring of truth about it – although we often let it get a bit muddied up.  “You are what you do,” or another way of saying it, “Your identity is based on your vocation.”  Isn’t that one of the first questions we ever ask anyone?  What is it you do?  We can see this acted out in the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness – as long as we don’t depend on Mark’s version.  Mark’s coverage of the experience takes all of two verses:

“And the Spirit immediately drove [Jesus] out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him” (1:12-13).  Mark’s account is so short the framers of the lectionary add the baptism of Jesus and the start of his ministry as bookends to what takes place.  But there’s wisdom to the choice of verses surrounding the temptation account. 

The baptism of Jesus is all about his identity, while his call to ministry is about vocation.  Mark points out that what Jesus does with his life comes out of his identity.  It’s the first time in the gospel we hear the words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  We heard virtually the same message on the mount of Transfiguration last week, didn’t we?  It’s no accident that Jesus is declared to be God’s Son – God’s Beloved – before being driven out into the wilderness by the Spirit of God.  Mark is telling us that it is absolutely necessary for Jesus to be fully aware of his own identity before he is faced with the temptation to abuse his identity – to abuse his authority – to claim his authority as the Son of God without fully understanding the meaning – the purpose – the direction – of his vocation as the Son of God, and what that means for himself and for the world.

Back in January I attended a celebration of the Holy Eucharist with the staff of the Diocese.  We were celebrating the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, with Bishop Sam as our preacher.  Sam told us that one thing tying together the baptism of Jesus with his temptation in the wilderness is the way that the Tempter tries to confuse Jesus – attempts to get Jesus to confuse his identity with his vocation in an unhealthy way.

Jesus’ identity is that of Son of God and God’s Beloved.  That identity is there before he ever begins to carry out his vocation – his ministry.  Of course it’s true that Jesus’ identity and his vocation are connected, but his vocation is informed by his identity and not the other way around.  The temptation is for Jesus to think that his identity is only validated when he does his job, and does it well; and the other gospels tell us of his temptation to prove his identity by his actions – to distrust the efficacy of his identity without solid proof to back it up.  And isn’t proof of identity what everyone in the gospels seem to seek from Jesus?

Applied in our lives, Bishop Sam says that like Jesus, “Our identity as a beloved child of God is connected to our vocation. We sometimes get confused by this connection and turn it around, and believe and act as though our identity as a beloved child of God is dependent on performing our vocation well. That God is pleased with us only when we perform and meet the expectations of our vocation.”

“In fact it is just the reverse,” says the bishop. “We are loved regardless of how we perform, and our vocation is a gift, a sign of God's love for us, not something we have to measure up to in order to earn God's love. Therefore we have to guard the gift of our vocation…from the temptation to make it into an exercise in proving ourselves, or trying to earn God's love.”

This is, in part, what our Ash Wednesday invitation to a Holy Lent is all about.  It’s not about acting holy and therefore somehow manipulating God into being nice to us.  It’s about nurturing our baptismal identities in Christ – it’s about feeding our souls so that we might carry out our calling as servants of the Living God.  Experiencing a Holy Lent is about our realizing that every time we take a breath – perhaps especially when we pause long enough to take a slow, deep breath – we are actually being filled with the creative, life-giving love of God. 

We can imagine each time the Tempter tries to lure Jesus into forsaking his identity as God’s Beloved that Jesus closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath.  The same creative, life-giving love of God Jesus has known from the time he first became aware of God – that same love fills his lungs in the middle of the wilderness and gives him the strength and courage he needs to remain faithful to who he is.  Jesus is able to stand his ground, rejecting the temptations to be someone or something else – rejecting the enticement to leave behind the vocation to which God calls him.  Jesus reminds us that how we each live, and move, and have our being in this world is intimately tied to our identity as God’s beloved.

Jesus comes out of his wilderness experience proclaiming “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news” (1:15).  The events of this past Ash Wednesday afternoon in Parkland, Florida remind us that as a nation we have much from which to repent. 

Perhaps as God’s beloved our actions will be tied to our identity, and we, as a nation, will rise up and say “Enough” to the almost weekly horror of mass shootings in our schools.  Perhaps we will say “Enough” to the need for, and the horror of, regular active shooter lock-down drills practiced by both high school students and kindergartners alike.  I find myself asking, “When did it become part of my son’s job description – or any teacher’s job description – to stop a bullet for the students in his care?  When did it become normal to worry about our children coming home from school each day?” 

Perhaps as a people whose identity is bound by covenant to the God who creates us, who loves us, and who lives within us, we will listen to the stories of the youth in Parkland who are begging the adults of this nation to bring about a transformation of society that allows our children to feel safe without feeling imprisoned by metal detectors and armed guards.

Perhaps, as a people shaped by the love of God made known to us in Christ Jesus, we won’t be swayed by the temptation to believe this is how life has to be – that turning our nation into the OK Corral has become our new normal – that somehow such a reality fits the dream of God for this world.

Today’s gospel calls us each to a place of repentance and action, but only after it reminds us that we are each a beloved child of God; and only after it challenges us to claim our beloved-ness as the central characteristic of who we are, and how we are meant to be in this world.  For the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand.