5 Easter Sunday

29 April 2018 at St. Peter the Apostle and St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 9, 26-31 + Psalm 22 + 1 John 3, 18-24 + John 15, 1-8

Jesus never wrote, composed, or built anything. What he left behind was a community. His whole life and mission was about relationships, bringing us to share his relationship with the Father. Whenever there was something that kept people apart from one another it had to go. Martha and Mary lost their brother Lazarus. Two women on their own in that culture was a disaster. So, Jesus called Lazarus back. A widow is about to bury her only son. Jesus raises that boy and gives him back to his mother. Over and over again the Gospels give us examples of Jesus restoring and building community.

On the last night he spent with his friends and disciples, after washing their feet and sharing a meal and prayer, he walked with some of them out to a garden knowing that things were falling apart. He knew that they would scatter and run, hide, and deny him. He knew that betrayals would splinter the relationship he has enjoyed with them. He walked in the darkness of that night through a vineyard on the way to an olive garden, stopped and spoke the words we have just repeated. “Without me, you can do nothing.”

Of all the sayings of Jesus, there is probably nothing said that is more challenging and difficult for our age than those six words. A do-it-yourself age, with all the independent individualists of our time must find this very hard to take. A world of isolation politically or spiritually will not fit with this gospel. If we are disciple of Jesus Christ, we are connected, mutually dependent, and responsible. Yet there is evidence everywhere still fresh in our memories that a lot of people think otherwise. They want to go it alone. They want to be “spiritual” but claim no faith community or relationships. Where are all those people who crammed themselves into this place five weeks ago? The truth is, people are leaving. Our young people walk off thinking what? That they can do something that matters without Jesus Christ? That they can make a difference in this world by themselves? I don’t believe they can. They may make a lot of money, but the world they leave behind will be a wreck, dirty, and uninhabitable.

We sit here all too often unmoved by this. We feel sad and wonder why or we blame someone else, and in this behavior, there lies the problem. Too few of us have ever done anything to call them back, to speak of our need for them, or of our feelings about their absence in the spirit of this Gospel. Too few of take very seriously the importance of their presence here. For them, Mass is a matter of convenience not commitment. This Gospel reminds us: “Without me you can do nothing.”

However, this Gospel says nothing to those who are gone; but it says plenty to those of us who are here about why we are here and what we become because of it. In the end, the absence of everyone else must come as a challenge to us about how seriously, personally, and faithfully we have bound ourselves to Jesus Christ in his Church. His work of building community, healing what is broken, and finding the lost continues for us a Church. This is a lonely world filled with people longing for relationships and connections. Facebook, Twitter, and all that electronic stuff is never a substitute for real communion, for the look and the touch of a real loving person standing beside us or behind us ready to pick us up when we fall or forgive us when we offend and fail. By this, the Father will be glorified, and we shall bear much fruit.

4 Easter Sunday

22 April 2018 at St. Peter the Apostle and St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 4, 8-12 + Psalm 118 + 1 John 3, 1-2 + John 10, 11-18

Seven times in John’s Gospel Jesus says: “I am.” Now pay attention. There might be a quiz! I am the Bread of Life. I am the Light of the World. I am the Gate. I am the Resurrection and the Life. I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. I am the Vine. Now today, I am the Good Shepherd. Each of these rely on an Old Testament image of God, but only one describes a human role. Jesus has just had an altercation with the Pharisees who have objected that he healed a blind man on the Sabbath. This is his response to them:  a commentary on the quality of their leadership. It does not win him any points with the Pharisees, but it certainly tells them how he sees his role. Yet, there is a message here for us as well.

As we proclaim this Gospel today, it could well function as a critique of leadership in the church, but that would leave us out of the picture. That is not what is happening here. Jesus is speaking to you and me right now in the living context of this liturgy. He speaks of his relationship to us and of his relationship with the Father. When he speaks of knowing his sheep, it is about his relationship with us.  As he describes the kind of Shepherd that he is, he is saying that unlike any other Shepherd, he shares the very essence of his life by his willingness to give all on our behalf. It is just four weeks since we commemorated that act of love. For the last three weeks, we have recalled and relived stories from after the resurrection. Now we begin to reflect on what that was all about: a God who calls us by name, who knows us and has let us come to know him and the sound of his voice in Jesus Christ.

After Jesus expresses his relationship to us, he then speaks of his relationship with the Father, and that leads to the heart of these verses today. As he links his role as Shepherd to his relationship to the Father, he shows us that his mission as this good shepherd was not simply to care for the sheep, but to make the sheep like himself by bringing them into his relationship with the Father. This is what he reveals to us today. As we listen to the Word, we may not indulge in romantic and sentimental images of a nice white robed, long haired, fair skinned man patting little woolly lambs. We must ask what it means and move more deeply into what is said, what offered, and what is promised. We can have the same relationship to the Father that Jesus enjoyed. That is what he says to us today. All it takes if for us to know him, to listen to him, and to follow him. He cares for the lost. We care for the lost. He shows mercy. We show mercy. He forgives. We forgive. He feeds. We feed.

We are being offered a relationship with the Father like the relationship that Jesus experienced: a relationship of hope, of promise, and of trust. God will do for us what God has done for Jesus because Jesus shared his very essence with us, his life, his body, his blood, and his Spirit. Obedient and desiring to do the will of the Father and conforming our lives into the life of Jesus Christ restores us to the relationship we had with the Father before there was sin and alienation. That is the mission of Jesus Christ. Today we proclaim by our lives and our faith that it is a mission accomplished. This is really good news.

3 Easter Sunday

15 April 2018 at St. Peter the Apostle and St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 3, 13-15, 17-19 + Psalm 4 + 1 John 2, 1-5 + Luke 24, 35-48

In all four of the Gospels, Jesus is on a journey to Jerusalem. That is the focus of his life, and the center of his mission. These disciples are not just grieving, they are all mixed up. Maybe their grieving is an excuse, but the fact is, they are going the wrong way. The whole life of Jesus, and the message of the Gospels, takes us to Jerusalem, to the cross. Those disciples are going away from the cross, and I suppose we tell their story because too often we are doing the same thing. We go the wrong way. We look for safety, comfort, power, acceptance, understanding, and even intimacy in the wrong places. None of these things are found in the stock market, in shopping, in the various ideologies that promise things they cannot deliver. There is no acceptance, understanding, or intimacy on the internet, in chat rooms or pornography. There is only one place we can find everything we need and long for: Jerusalem at the Cross.

The wonderful and exciting revelation of this story is about a God who does not wait for us to come to Him or turn around and go back. What we discover in this familiar story is that God comes after us even when we are going the wrong way. Those disciples, do something that afternoon that changes everything. It says: “They stopped.” Their willingness and decision to just stop what they were doing, stop running away, stop what they were thinking and listen to the Word of God changed everything and turned them around. In that conversation with the stranger, we see that they had all the facts about what had happened in Jerusalem, but they had failed to ask what it meant.

My friends when something happens that we do not understand or that shakes our expectations about how God should work, it is useless to ask “why”. We must ask ourselves what it means and what we are going to become because of it. The only question they were asking themselves on that road was, “Why?” When a storm or a fire destroys all the stuff we have collected, piled up and stored away, asking “why” is useless. When any tragedy strikes, we must wonder what it means and consider what we are going to become because of it. Only then can we move forward and not run away or become bitter.

As they listened to the Word, they began to understand that the path to glory for Jesus and all his followers was the path of suffering, sacrificial love. Once they got it, they knew what to do, who they were, and where to go. When that happened, they became real disciples. They no longer ran away from the cross. They stopped looking for glory anywhere except in sacrificial love. They run back to others like true disciples, because they had something to share and news to tell about someone who remains with them. This must become our story, our experience of the resurrection so that we know who we are and where to go.

2 Easter Sunday

8 April 2018 on Board the MS Amsterdam

Acts of the Apostles 4, 32-35 + Psalm 118 + 1 John 5, 1-6 + John 20, 19-31

This story is about fear as much as it is about faith. It explores the two experiences and reveals how fear is to be overcome. In my opinion, fear is the first human experience. Did anyone ever hear of a new born baby giggling or laughing? The first and deepest fear in all humanity is the fear of being alone, of being abandoned. That fear is what causes us so often to be terrified of death which is why we need to tell this story at the beginning of the Easter Season.

We look at the behavior of these apostles, and we see what fear can do to us. Afraid, they lock themselves up. Afraid of crowds who followed Jesus who might come and mock and ridicule them? Afraid that the news they heard from the women is true and Jesus is back, and that he might come and ask why they abandoned him? Afraid of the “leaders of the people” who might track them down and put them to death as well? They have plenty to fear, and in their behavior, we see the consequences of fear. They are cut off, isolated, hiding, denying, and helpless.

They tried to keep everyone out with their locked doors. Jesus got in, and he says: “Peace be with you.” That word, “SHALOHM” describes a kind of “wholeness”. When it is used as a verb, it means mending as someone might mend a net or repair a rip or torn clothing. It has to do with putting back together whatever is broken. When used as a greeting by Jesus, it announces that the relationship he had with the apostles was not broken by death.

In his first Epistle, John writes, “Perfect Love casts out all fear.” It is perfect love that stands in their midst to declare an end to fear, so show that God’s love is more powerful than death, and that faith in the risen Christ who promised to never leave us provides the ultimate victory over fear. There is no fear in love. We who have been loved know that. When not associated with abandonment, fear often has to do with punishment, and so in quieting that fear, Jesus speaks of and commissions forgiveness. Now there is nothing left to fear: we’re not abandoned and we have been forgiven.

All of this is the great Mercy we celebrate today. The mercy of a God who lifts fear from our hearts and would replace it with love. The mercy of a God who will seek and find us no matter where we hide and no matter how many doors are locked. Thomas, that wise and faithful apostle reminds us of something very important. With no idea where he was or why he was out and not among the others, we see that faith and the risen Lord are found in relationship with the apostles: in the church. Jesus waits for him to come back and then Jesus returns for him. Thomas does not find Jesus out on his own. In that faithful community about to be inspired by the Holy Spirit and reborn into a church, the only response to this great mercy is Joy and gratitude which draw us together this week aboard this ship where laughter can lift us from sorrow and fear, and where the beauty of the sea and all creation can stir our hopes for the Paradise for which we were created.

Easter Sunday

1 April 2018 at St Peter the Apostle and St William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts of the Apostles 10,34, 37-43 + Psalm 118 + Colossians 3, 1-4 + John 20, 1-9

In all four of the Gospels as the Resurrection is reported, someone goes into the tomb. Matthew, Mark, and Luke have the women go in. John sends in Peter and the Beloved Disciple. They all go in, and they all come out just like Jesus. Our proclamation of the Resurrection today cannot be simply a repetition of these ancient reports about Jesus. We must confirm from our own experience that what is in a tomb will come out, and when that happens, it is a new day, a new beginning, a new man or woman full of life, promise, and hope.

Over and over again, Jesus spoke about the need to go into the tomb. “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains a single grain, but, if it dies….” you know the rest. “Whoever wants to keep their lives must lose their lives” he says. Yet, it’s not just talk about this, there is plenty of action as well. Lazarus literally goes into a tomb, and he comes out as a living testimony to the power of Jesus Christ. A widow’s dead son is raised up and restored to his mother and the bystanders are struck with awe. The daughter of Jairus is dead and being mourned, but she gets up leaving everyone amazed, says Luke.

For too many of us, life is a tomb with big stones trapping us in darkness; tombs that keep us from living, from joy, from realizing who we really are and how God made us. Whatever keeps us from being born again is that stone holding us back. Until that stone is moved we’re trapped and cut off from life. Stones of resentment and anger keep us in the dark. Stones of doubt and fear keep us in a tomb of isolation and loneliness. Stones of individualism and pride keep us away from others leaving us helpless in a fragmented and broken society. The news we proclaim today is about stones rolled back and empty tombs from which the dead or the dying can escape into the light of a new day. The news is about us as much as it is about Jesus Christ. Yet, who is going to move the stone?

Did you ever notice in the accounts of the Resurrection that no one takes credit, or is blamed for moving that stone? The detail is always reported grammatically in the passive voice. “It was rolled way” says all the reports. I have always imagined that it was moved from the inside. There is a wonderful imaginative painting of the moment of the resurrection from the inside. An angel is lifting up the body of Jesus as though he was waking Jesus up from a nap. Another angel is cleaning up the place folding some sheets, and third is pushing on the stone as a shaft of light shoots into the darkness. That stone has to go.

I would propose that like the tomb of Jesus, the stone will be moved from the inside. We have to move those stones. But as that artist imagines, perhaps we’re not alone in the tomb, perhaps an angel who looks like a friend or a spouse or parent will clean up the mess and lift us up. Perhaps Jesus himself will push aside the stone just enough for some light to come and restore our hope. Then, able to see the light, and strengthened by that hope, we too can step out and start over on a new day.

This in the end, is what we proclaim today. Not just that Jesus has risen from the dead, but that he calls us out of our tombs and into the light of a new day. In which case, as we have said and sung, “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad.”

The Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord

25 March 2018 at Saint Peter and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

Isaiah 50, 4-7 + Psalm 22 + Philippians 2, 6-11 + Mark 14, 1 to 15, 47

Too often suffering is seen as a punishment from God, but nothing could be further from the truth. God does not punish. God saves. The only reason God allows suffering is that good can come from it. Our pain can, if we allow it, bring us closer to God. Comfort comes from knowing that Jesus Christ, innocent and without sin, has gone down the road of

suffering before us all the way to the end. We are reminded that in the midst of his suffering, he cared about others, the women of Jerusalem, the thieves hanging with him, and of course, his mother. There was nothing but love in him, a love that poured out with his blood. Jesus did not die to save us from suffering. He died to teach us how to suffer. The road of suffering is difficult and unique for everyone who makes the journey. No one’s suffering is the same as someone else’s, but in the midst of our suffering, we can be drawn out to see the suffering of others. No one can offer comfort better than someone who has also suffered and is no stranger to pain.

Suffering and pain can make us bitter, or it can purify and make us noble, great, and holy. The greatest people I have known are people who have suffered. They are p

eople who have confronted their pain with hope. The truth is, pain and suffering are an indispensable part of becoming truly human, people of compassion and maturity. These are people who do not run from life, but who embrace it with love and with hope. This is their day. This day and the days to follow this week are a time for us all to grow up and grow out. This is a day to examine our own suffering in the light of how Jesus suffered. It is a time to reject bitterness and embrace compassion, and the time to stand with others who suffer as well and provide by our faith some light in the darkness of their fears and loneliness.

The Fifth Sunday in Lent

18 March 2018 at Saint Peter and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

Jeremiah 31, 31-34 + Psalm 51 + Hebrews 5, 7-9 + John 12, 20-33

It is not just the Greeks who want to see Jesus. This whole world wants to see Jesus, but like many at the time, when Jesus doesn’t look, act, or talk the way they want, they keep on looking. Last week I read a little story about a blind man who had set up a table to sell some things in a busy and crowded airport. Someone rushing by bumped into the table and everything fell to the floor as the one rushing to a plane kept on going. The blind man got on the floor and began feeling around for his things. Another traveler came on the scene, looked at his watch and rolled his eyes knowing that if he stopped, he might miss his flight. But he stopped anyway, and he helped the blind man pick up everything from the floor and arrange it back up on the table. With that, the traveler went on his way probably missing his flight. The blind man called out after him: “Hey, are you Jesus?” In my own reflection on this passage of John’s Gospel, I can’t get past those opening verses about the Greeks wanting to see Jesus. In terms of the scriptures, that part is a set-up for the later verses when Jesus confronts the reality of his death and cries out to the Father for help. It is the lowest point in the life of Jesus. He has hit bottom, and he knows that everything for him is coming to an end; a bad end. He uses images from a prophet to stir up his hope, but the truth is, there is none. Hope is finished, because now it is time to realize what hope had imagined.

So here come those Greeks who look for Philip. Why Philip? Because he has a Greek name and probably speaks Greek. For John writing this Gospel, Philip is an apostle, he is the church, he’s not a gate keeper, protecting Jesus, but rather one who leads people to and introduces them to Jesus. This ought to be an important lesson to us, members of the Apostolic Church about what we are and what we must do. We have no idea about how it goes for those Greeks nor what they see or hear when they come to Jesus, but it can’t be what they expected. They came to see a wonder-worker, and a prophet mighty in deed. What they saw and heard was a man who had hit bottom, talking about his death, and praying to God. John says the whole crowd heard thunder, but Jesus heard a voice that reassured him promising that he would draw everyone to himself; a promise that his life was not in vain.

This world is still wanting to see Jesus. What this world gets is just you and me, a people sometimes in a big hurry bumping into things and ignoring the messes we make and the trouble we cause others. I want to see Jesus too, but all I see is you, and the truth is, most of the time that’s enough, because in your brokenness, your weakness, and even in your sinfulness, there is suffering that reminds me of that man on the cross. I would assume, since you are here in this church, that you want to see Jesus too, and all you get is me and those people sitting around you.  We are a broken people who face things from time to time we would rather not, and we cry out, “Save me from this” only to discover that we can and always do make it through because there is a promise here; a promise that the Father will honor those who serve.

That crowd thought an angel was speaking to Jesus. We know it to be the voice of God who speaks to us again and again through the words of Holy Scripture. The message is clear and simple for those who want to see Jesus. Look for one who serves others and is obedient to the Will of the Father. Look for one who suffers and sacrifices for others, and when we begin to look like that, others will begin to see Jesus.

The Fourth Sunday in Lent

11 March 2018 at Saint Peter and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

2 Chronicles 36, 14-16, 19-23 + Psalm 137 + Ephesians 2, 4-10 + John 3, 14-21

There is so much in John’s Gospel about light and darkness. Think of all the things that happen at night: the betrayal of Judas, the denial of Peter, the trial of Jesus, and the sun darkened at his death. Then there is Mary gong to the tomb before it is light no believing what has happened. One of the great signs in John’s Gospel is the healing of man born blind – someone who has lived in the darkness. Into what is almost a cosmic struggle between night and day, light and darkness comes this figure of Nicodemus. I always think of him as a “twilight man”. Nicodemus makes three appearances in John’s Gospel, this one in chapter three. Then, he’s there again in Chapter Seven among other Pharisees, with words of caution to them about overstepping their bounds as they propose the death of Jesus. Finally, he is there once more in the 19^th chapter buying a huge and expensive amount of burial materials for the body of Jesus.

He comes in the night, curious and interested. He is a man with an open mind. He wants to know more, so he goes to Jesus not content with hearsay and what others have to say. In today’s Gospel, we get a clip of what Jesus says to him about light and darkness, the truth, and good deeds. When the conversation is over, he’s gone, and it’s still dark. Nicodemus does not want to be seen. Yet we have think that Jesus liked him just as he liked that rich young man who ran up to him and then went away sad.

When Nicodemus shows up again, he cautions his companions about trying to kill Jesus, but that caution is more to protect the Pharisees than it is to protect Jesus we are led to believe. He never really comes out to defend Jesus or to express any faith in him. He takes no real risk. He expresses no faith or confidence in the truth Jesus speaks. Then the last time he shows up having spent a large sum of money for burial spices and cloth. There is no indication that he did a thing to stop that tragedy. All we can tell is that he felt a little sorry for Jesus. Never in all three appearances does this man ever emerge into the light of faith. All we can say about him is that he was open minded and curious, that he was fair minded about Jesus before his own peers, and that he was generous and maybe compassionate.

It strikes me that Nicodemus never really inspires because he never does anything of really great importance. He misunderstands Jesus like the rest of the disciples, but he also never declares any faith in Jesus. He keeps to his comfortable position of power and only mildly questions what’s going on around him. Compared to the others who were being martyred for following Jesus, he’s not quite going the distance for God.

So, the Church puts him before us today as a kind of “twilight man” inviting us to step out of the shadows so that our deeds can bear witness to our faith. There is still in all of us a lot of darkness from which we are called by this one who is the Light of the World. We are never going to step in the light of Easter morning while we hang around in the shadows timid, afraid, cautious, and concerned about what others will say of us. We are children of the light who act in truth before God because the Light has come into the world.

The Third Sunday in Lent

4 March 2018 at Saint Peter and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

Exodus 20, 1-17 + Psalm 19 + 1 Corinthians 1, 22-25 + John 2, 13-25

We are accustomed to think of this scene as the last act of conflict that moves Jesus into his passion. That is because Matthew, Mark, and Luke place this incident at the conclusion of the ministry and journey of Jesus to Jerusalem. For them, this is the set-up for the violent reaction of the authorities. But today, we hear John’s version of this incident, and it is only the second chapter of John’s Gospel. Something different is going on. This is about authority and identity. For the other Gospel writers, that is settled by a Baptism and voices. Here it is settled by the voice of Jesus who says: “My father’s house”. It is a claim that sparks a dialogue as the “Jews” perceive that this dramatic temple act is a claim for his authority to represent God. They want a sign to validate that authority. In his response, Jesus speaks of his resurrection as the sign. In fact, John makes this clear in his Gospel by using the verb “raise up” rather than “rebuild”. Jesus talks about his body. They talk about a building. Here, the dialogue breaks down, and there is shift of attention to the disciples as the narrator takes over.

This is where we must find ourselves today. The narrator goes on to tells us that many came to believe because they could see the signs he was performing. In John’s Gospel belief based on signs or “miracles” alone rather than on the true reality pointed to by those miracles is inferior. Jesus will not entrust himself to these half-hearted believers. Something more is asked of us, something greater and stronger. As John’s Gospel unfolds, the way is now open to Nicodemus who appears in the next chapter and next Sunday as someone open to Jesus but not yet ready to affirm full belief in him.

Our faith today may not rest on signs and wonders. If it does, we shall drift helplessly away from him, because he will not “trust himself to us” in his own words. Our faith must rest upon the love of God that he has revealed, upon the hope we have in the power of life over death, and the desire of God to embrace us all in his mercy. As that temple in Jerusalem was once the gathering place of God’s people and the dwelling place of God, a new temple has been raised up. For by the time John wrote this Gospel, that Jerusalem temple was a smoking pile of rubble. By the time John wrote this Gospel, Jesus Christ had been raised up, and now, through him, with him, and in him all people give thanks, praise and glory for God lives in us, in his church. Like Nicodemus and the disciples, it takes time to come to this faith. It takes the Holy Spirit, and a desire to make Jesus Christ for us what the temple was for all those Jews, the center of their lives, a sign of God’s presence, and the place where all faithful hearts longed to find rest and peace.

The Second Sunday in Lent

25 February 2018 At Saint Peter and Saint William Churches in Naples, FL

Genesis 22, 1-2,9, 10-13, 15-19 + Psalm 116 + Romans 8, 31034 + Mark 9, 2-10

In the first reading today, we must not be distracted by Isaac and his traumatic experience. That story is about Abraham. It is somewhat the same with the Gospel today. That story is about those apostles, it is not about Jesus. That voice speaks to the Apostles. Jesus already heard that voice at his Baptism.

Everything Abraham had was given to him by God. Everything, including that son who came late and marvelously into the life of Abraham and Sarah. What God asks is that Abraham return to God absolutely everything God has given him. “Do you love me enough to give it all back?” This is what God is saying to the man who once left everything at God’s request and headed out into the unknown. “Will you give back what I have given you?” This is a stunning and challenging request, and Abraham is not the only one called by God in this way. We should sit here with a little discomfort at the realization of what this story is about because the living Word of God is spoken alive again in this place.

It is the same with Jesus Christ. In his prayer at the Last Supper he acknowledges that everything he has comes from the Father, and his deepest desire is to return it all to the Father and not lose anything the Father has given him. Peter, James, and John are the ones really transfigured on that mountain. Their lives, their faith, their hopes and dreams are now all caught up in this one who remains with them. They are now the ones being put to the test. Like Abraham, they have climbed a mountain and have heard the voice that calls out to them asking only one thing. “Will you give back to me everything I have given you?” They are now coming to realize slowly that this is what God asks of them, because this is what God asks of Jesus. Eventually, they will give back Jesus himself, and like Jesus, they will then give back to God their very lives.

My friends, there is no denial or avoiding the truth that this is what God asks of us as well. This season of Lent takes us to the test. It tests our resolve to give up and give back. A time of rehearsal, as it were, a time of testing that will prove what we are made of and how much we love the God who has given us everything.