Lent 4

John 9
“As he passed by, he saw a blind man from his birth.” This is how John opens the story. Enter the disciples, who consider the blind man, not a man as such, they consider him more as a case: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?”
Undoubtedly you have heard about this notion of sin and punishment. This primitive idea that the consequences of sin are sickness and poverty. Thank goodness we have gone beyond these old ideas. I know that none among us have looked upon the poor, the homeless, the addicted and have definitely NOT thought of God justly punishing them. Well, as it turns out the Jews have never really had this notion of punishment and sin either. The Levitical purity codes were always egalitarian. Yes sin and all manners of uncleanliness could drive God away. But the purity laws and the various codes of cleaning were the ultimate social leveler. Each person was never more than a few days away from ritual purity, no matter their station. One of the points of the story of Job, was that sickness and misfortune are not necessarily linked to sin.
Jesus seems to understand this and says so, “it was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be made manifest in him.” I wonder what it was like hearing that? The blind man had grown up being told that he was a sinner or that his parents were. Here is a man who was certainly used to having the works of God made manifest in him, but as punishment. Now, someone is saying something new and he has a different tone, he’s not yelling for one, and now this mud.
Notice nobody is asking this man anything. He’s a case. Not even Jesus asks him, “Do you want to be healed?” Jesus just sends him off to the pool to make his mikvah, his ritual cleansing. Exit Blind Man, but John has us follow him, leaving Jesus and the disciples off stage. What follows tells how the-now-sighted man is received into his community after his healing. And it doesn’t seem to go well. Some don’t believe that he is the one who was blind. When he does convince them, and talks about his healing from Jesus, they bring him to the Pharisees who question him all over again, but this time they are asking him, not about his healing , but about the healer. “How did he heal you?” “How can a Sabbath-breaking sinner heal?” Still not sure about all of this, the Pharisees call in the man’s parents. And they just don’t want to get involved so they say, “Look, our son can make his own decisions, he’s of age, ask him.” The man really can’t get a break since he regained his sight, it’s almost as if his community liked him better when he was blind.
And this is where the story becomes less like holy writ and more like Night Court. Remember Night Court? Night Court was a cavalcade of 1980s stand-up comics who took turns making wisecracks, all set up by the judge, lawyers, and bailiffs. The Pharisees are getting impatient now and say: Give God the glory! Meaning: tell the truth! Ok, maybe it’s more like a Few Good Men, because I’m not sure that they can handle the truth. The man tells them what happened again, they press further and he asks “Why do you want to hear it again, Do you too want to become his disciples?” The Greek here is in on the joke, the man expects a “No” answer. His question might read more like, “You don’t want to become his disciples do you?” The Pharisees revile him and kick him out saying he was born in utter sin, putting us right back at square one.
Right back at square one, where we find Jesus. And if we read carefully, we see that the man does not recognize Jesus at sight or sound. Jesus asks, “Do you believe in the Son of man?” The man answers, “Yes, can you tell me who that might be.” And Jesus, ever the punster, playing on the man’s recent ocular improvement says: “You have seen him and it is the one speaking to you.” And the man worships Jesus.
And finally one last confrontation, this time between Jesus and some of the Pharisees. It’s the coup de grace on the whole affair, as if this entire passage were leading up to this exchange. Jesus says, “I came to judge the world, so that those who are blind might see, and those that are sighted might be made blind.” “So what, we’re blind then?” ask the Pharisees, and somewhat enigmatically Jesus answers “If you were blind, you would have no guilt; but now you say, ‘We see,’ your guilt remains.”
The End. The Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you Lord Christ.
Boy it sure feels good to be on the right side of that exhortation, doesn’t it? Good thing we’re not like those Pharisees. But you know the implication is on us. It always has been, and it is now. Like those Pharisees, we need to question this blind man who is no longer blind, but we need to go further and watch him and see what develops.
This blind man. This man who was not asked if he wanted to be healed, this man who defended Jesus’ actions without ever seeing him, or knowing what he was about, except that he was from God. Here is a person surprised by an uninvited Jesus. Here is a person that has an encounter that he just cannot understand, and this encounter does not hold up to the scrutiny of his family, his culture, even his own past. But, here’s the rub: as our blind, then-sighted, friend shows us, that kind of understanding, the intellectual and societal pigeonholing, is not really necessary. The understanding of how healing and God works in the structures that have come before, even in inspired ones, is not the point.
Here we have a story of the acts of God, we have a story of God’s works being revealed in a person! And what surrounds that person? Questions: Who, what, when, where, why, how; the questions are coming from people of faith, people of faith seeking understanding. It’s not that the Pharisees are asking the wrong questions, they are doing their due diligence; they are literally testing the spirit of what Jesus has done.
What is going on, I think, is that they don’t yet have the skills to relate with the blind man or with Jesus. There were those Pharisees who did seem to have the right skills, who could engage Jesus and the phenomena that came in his wake, Nicodemus for example, and in our story today the Pharisees were divided, meaning there were some who were trying to hear all this through.
But Jesus doesn’t make it easy on the Pharisees, and on us, when he drops this doozy: “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see, may see, and those that do see may become blind.” This puzzling phrase is rendered clear by watching this blind-man-who-isn’t-blind; what happens with him is the key.
Jesus didn’t just give the man sight. He gave him his blindness as well. Blind from birth! If you are blind from birth, can you even understand what it means to be blind? What have you got to compare it to? The sighted among us can close our eyes and at least imagine, however weakly, what it might be like to be blind. When you think it through, this man didn’t even know what blindness was until Jesus gave him sight. Blindness then, is not a condition of being, as much a lack of ability. Which is obvious, but it needs to be said in light of this reading because we tend to overly spiritualize these readings. We talk a lot about spiritual blindness, as if that were some kind of natural category. Jesus gave the man an ability to see his blindness. And in his mercy he will give the sighted blindness so that they may obtain perspective on their sin.
The healing then is a bestowal of a skill, a skill to see one’s blindness. To see where one has chosen, or been made, to be blind to one’s own injustices to ourselves and our neighbors. Where are you blind? Where are those subtle ways that you have hardened your heart to yourself, your neighbor, and your God? You are blind! Whenever you hear that one person and know, you know that the next thing that comes out of their mouth is going to be all wrong: you are blind. Remember that time when that jerk cut in line, remember? You kept your cool, you didn’t cuss him out, but you still carry that no account, ill-mannered, fool in your mind, you are blind. This hasn’t happened to you or me, but I’ve heard of it, when someone, no one here of course, when someone tears down another person, usually behind their back, and smooth’s it over with “Bless her heart.” That’s blindness!
But Jesus doesn’t seem to fault the blind, that’s the good news, Jesus doesn’t fault the blind: “If you were blind you would not have sin.” But, here’s the rub, Jesus heals blindness, and in that healing you receive sight to see how you were blind. Jesus grants the skill so that we can begin to reckon our blindness.

Funny thing is that sightedness and blindness in today’s gospel look a lot alike. Jesus also grants blindness, grants blindness, to those who in their pride say they see but show by their actions and understanding that they do not. There is this cycle that Jesus puts us on of sightedness and blindness, back to sightedness.
The common denominator though is Jesus, he is the one who gives us the skill, the sight to see our own blindness. Know this, you cannot encounter Jesus Christ and come back unchanged. Paul, blinded. Lazarus , raised. Mary of Magdela, set free. Changed. Andrew, Peter, James, John, Josh, Don, Jane, Bill: changed. It happens. What better place than the Church, and what better time than Lent, than to look and ask ourselves where we have been blind?
May Jesus come, even uninvited, come to find us where we are: when we do not have the sight to see him, find us in our blindness, and give us new eyes to see our blindedness and behold only him and the gift of new life that we have through him. Amen.

Sunday's Sermon

Epiphany 6
Deut. 30:15-20
Matthew 5: 21-37

So, here we are at Epiphany Six. It’s been great hasn’t it? For the first two Sundays we had accounts of Jesus’ baptism. Undoubtedly we heard sermons that made us all think hard about our own baptisms and what it means to be a Christian. Then in the third Sunday after Epiphany we learned about the beginning of Jesus’ mission, how he called his first disciples; and we heard sermons about following Jesus. So far so good. Very good, in fact. Then, two weeks ago, Jesus began the Sermon on the Mount, a masterwork of teaching and consolation for the early Christians and for us: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” That week we learned about the Kingdom of Heaven and how it reverses the fortunes of the world. Finally, last week we continued with the Sermon on the Mount and we learned about how we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. We may have even sung “This Little Light of Mine.” I like this stuff, it makes me feel good. But it is not to last.
Today Jesus gives us some pretty tall orders that cause every one of us to look at our shoes, shuffle our feet, clear our throat, or more likely to say, “Well Jesus doesn’t mean that, he’s using exaggeration and hyperbole, he’s saying something outrageous to prove a point.” Jesus says, “I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister,* you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult* a brother or sister,* you will be liable to the council; and if you say, “You fool”, you will be liable to the hell* of fire.” That’s exaggeration you see, Jesus asks a lot of us, but to be that nice to my siblings, neighbors, or fellow church-goers is unrealistic.” Right? I’m not so sure. What about this doozy that got Jimmie Carter into so much trouble, “‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall not commit adultery.” 28But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”
It’s hyperbole, it’s unrealistic. He doesn’t mean it.
What happened? We were on board with Jesus saying blessed are the poor in spirit, we were right with him at the baptism stories, and the part where he said, “Follow Me!” What happened? Now that we get to the part of the sermon that gets specific, we attribute hyperbole to Jesus. Now that Jesus says, “Now listen up my disciples, here’s what this life with me looks like, this is what I expect” we say, “He’s exaggerating.”
Well there are two points here that I will try to convince you of. The first is that I don’t think Jesus was exaggerating. I am one of those rare Bible scholars that think that the writers of the Gospels knew what they meant when they wrote it. Of course there are all kinds of rhetoric and tricks of genre, but I think Jesus means, plainly, what he says here. The second point is about who this Sermon on the Mount is for.
You see these teachings are for disciples. Jesus is not really trying to win over new converts here, he is preaching to his followers, to us in the church. And how do I know that?
Well, who was the Bible written for anyway? Who wrote the Old Testament? Was it a group of Hebrews out there in Palestine, writing to all the gentiles to have them become proselytes? No. The writers of what became the Hebrew Bible were writing their story of their life with God, for their tribe and community, for their fellow God followers.
And the New Testament, who wrote that? One of the first things that I learned upon arrival at seminary was the fact that the New Testament, all of it, the Epistles and the Gospels, were written by and for people who went to church. That may be nothing new to you fine people here at Nativity, but for me to realize that Church folk wrote the Bible was a mind-blower. The Bible is the Church’s book. You see, I always thought it was the other way around; that the Church had somehow spontaneously sprung from the writings. The truth is, and the facts are, that the New Testament was written by people who were grappling with the Jesus story, who were caring for each other, and were making and receiving the Holy Eucharist together. That’s who wrote it, and they wrote it for each other, to form their community and their story, and eventually we arrived, and it is our story too.
What’s all this got to do with being liable to the fires of hell, being thrown in prison, tearing out eyes and all that?
My point is that the Bible was written for disciples of God, if you think about it for a second; the Bible is not primarily an evangelical text. It is a book for disciples. That’s a tough one, the Bible is a book for disciples. Jesus is outlining the mode of behavior of a disciple, of the church. The world just doesn’t get this kind of behavior. And no, I actually don’t think Jesus is exaggerating, he might be trying to awaken a long slumbering moral imagination, awakening it to activity. Jesus is upping the ante on the laws that his disciples knew so well. He is making interior what might have been done only externally. Yes, don’t murder, Moses covered that. But when Jesus goes inside he knows about the internal seeds of anger and he raises the stakes to the limit.
Why, why all this hellfire and tearing out? Because it matters to God. You can bet money that whenever Jesus starts talking in graphic terms, like tearing eyes out, unquenchable fires, and the world just generally coming to an end, it is important to him. And if it important to the Son, it is important to the Father.
What Jesus is doing here in this part of his Sermon is to teach us sin. That’s a funny way to say it, “Teach us sin.” There is no doubt that Jesus is teaching us ABOUT sin, but he is also teaching us sin. Sin is not a natural category. We can’t arrive at the notion of sin by just thinking hard. It’s not evident from just looking at nature. There is a whole branch of theological enquiry that says, “When we look to nature, we can learn about the character of God. There is some information about God in this rainbow, this season, this bird.” That’s called Natural Theology. But I don’t know of a Natural Theology of Sin. Of course one only needs to read the newspaper, watch TV, or have a conversation to see that the world is filled with sin; but we are seeing that from the Church’s perspective. The world doesn’t believe in sin. It might believe in evil, and entropy, and brokenness; but not sin, because sin is an offense to God. And since the world doesn’t have sin, the world can’t forgive.
But Jesus is teaching us sin, because we have to be taught what sin is. Let’s look again at what interests Jesus. Yes murder, but really anger and resentment. Yes, adultery, but really Jesus is talking about respect. That’s what Jesus is preaching: respect, patience. In other words, how to be a community that thinks like God. And what is a disciple but someone who tries to think and relate to the world like God does? And what is the church but a group that thinks alongside God?
In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus starts by saying, “OK, I’ve described the Kingdom of Heaven, the reversals, and I’ve begun to sketch out what it means to be a disciple: you know, salt, light, righteousness. And now for the fine print.” What it means to follow Jesus is to actually respect people, to have patience with ourselves, and our neighbors. In short: to be at peace. Imagine it. Life, as if people mattered. But let us not be naïve, peace ain’t pretty. Getting to peace can be messy and painful.
But it is here, in Christ’s church, that we can learn the lessons of this Jesus Ethic. It has been said that the Church does not have an ethic, it is an ethic. How do we learn the lessons that are required for what Jesus is demanding of us? We come together, here, we tell the stories that inspire us to live virtuously, we receive the sacraments where we learn that God is reaching across space and time to bring us again and again closer to him. So in this community of story and faith we are brought out of ourselves to see our fellow creatures as something deserving of respect.
This is what our Lord is saying today: “Act like I act, think like I think;” which is also what God himself says in our reading from Deuteronomy, “See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity . . . choose life.”
Obeying God, following his commandments, for the ancient Hebrews meant to live in the light of God’s mind, to literally imitate God. Should we imitate God? You bet your life we should. But, imitation does not mean that we look at Jesus of Nazareth and point-for-point make our lives his. That life has been lived. We are not Jesus, we are not the messiah, we are not the crucified and risen one. Yet we are his people, living his story as our own, making his story our story. We are inspired, in-breathed, by Jesus to go beyond our attempts to control and exploit everything and to begin to imagine a different way of seeing the world and our relationships: to be like God.
So, let us proclaim our common faith in the One who calls to us as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, pray that we might orient our story to his. Confess our desires to exploit and control our brothers and sisters. Receive His blessing, and finally come to his table, being utterly reconciled to him and each other.

Actual Size

The universe is only so big, but is it ever big. Here is a link to a "sliding scale of the universe."

Creativity

While taking the General Ordination Exams, I was struck at how important being creative is for me in my work, any work. When I was writing my answers to some of the questions, which were the cognitive equivalent of being painted into a corner, I even got a little depressed because the questions were so limited. Anyway, those are over and I now have a little time to think about some other ideas. I've been working on an idea about iconography and comic books, I've even secured a little grant to do this, and I'll be doing something at the School of Theology this semester. Here is a great interview by a truly great comics artist, she has a lot to say about creativity and the process of creating. Follow the link and you can read it or listen to it.

I've been thinking about writing something about preaching and comics art too, specifically how comics work and how their artist/writers work. There is much that preachers can learn from this visual medium. Enjoy.

Some pics from my diaconal ordination

The Only Advent Hymn You'll Ever Need

Check this out. There is a music group in England who is covering John Cage's 4'33". A work that bears listening for this time of year. Listen and ponder the Advent season. The genius is that the music group is trying to have this song on the top of the pops type Christmas single.

Morning Prayer Sermon in COTA

Read this first, really, read it: Luke 15:1-10
No, no, no!

No Jesus. In fact, if I had one hundred sheep, and lost one, I would NOT go looking for it. And neither would anyone else!

Jesus, look, I know you are just a carpenter, and I guess that others handle the money for you, or something, they must, because you show complete ignorance of the realities of a market economy.

One sheep for ninety-nine? Are you kidding? It’s too risky! Now I know that you are from Nazareth! One sheep, that’s a one percent loss, one percent! That’s acceptable, that’s better than acceptable, that’s great!

Rabbi, you cannot be serious! You would leave the other 99, really? Please. You’re talking about a shepherding situation here, right? So what happens to the others, sheep aren’t corralled you know? You just leave them alone to get the one? What about wolves? What about thieves? What about the general stupidity of the sheep? You would honestly leave the other sheep? You know, it’s not fair to those sheep!

That’s it! You’re being unfair. The one sheep does not deserve to be looked after in such a wasteful manner. It’s extravagant!

Wait a minute, wait a minute. Now, now, no, no, don’t change the subject. I don’t want to hear about some lady’s lost coin, let’s talk about these sheep. Look, I get it, ok. You’re trying to making a point about you eating with these sinners. But your premise is all wrong, don’t you see that? It makes no sense. The risk! Don’t you see that there is no utility, no virtue, and certainly no duty in going after that one lost sheep? One percent!

Jesus, please listen to reason, it is not right for us to be here with these sinners. You see, these sheep, . . . I mean theses sinners, they don’t deserve . . . Jesus, really, you’re a good rhetorician, I like your style, I like your stories, but this one, this one with the sheep and that utterly irresponsible and ultimately unfair shepherd, it’s too much. It’s just too much to believe.

You would do better, in this story to secure the other 99, have the shepherd corral those sheep first, you see. That would remove all doubt about the foolishness of that shepherd, change that and you’ve got something. No, Jesus, what you really need is an editor. That shepherd, he’s just too much; he’s unfair and dangerously risky.

I mean, in your example, who is this one sheep? Might I assume that I, a Pharisee, that has lived under, and expanded the law, am fully righteous in the eyes of the Almighty, what about me? Am I a one or a am I a 99? Am I the lost, that God comes to find, or am I one of the 99 that get left?

What? Say again.
I might be the shepherd? But that’s . . . well I . . . but. . .
That shepherd, me? That shepherd, he’s too much, me? But, he’s so risky!

Well, I think I interrupted you back there, you wanted to change the subject, something about a lost coin . . .

An Icon of Time

The 600 Years from the macula on Vimeo.

My Greetings from last night's gala dinner for the VC of Sewanee

Dr. and Mrs. McCardell, I bring you greetings and prayers from your seminarians at the School of Theology. The students at the School of Theology are very pleased that the university has chosen a historian as its Vice-Chancellor, a person who is well acquainted with the many ghosts and saints of this storied place. We are also happy to see, in thought, word, and deed, that you are a devoted churchman. And, I will warn you, as leaders in the church you can expect us to approach you about serving on a committee very soon. I can’t really say that I’m kidding about that.

But more importantly, we recognize that you speak our language. You do not use words of our tradition for rhetorical affect. No, you are enrolled in the story of God and we thank you for your proclamation. We see you in chapel. We are glad that you worship with us and hope that you will consider the Chapel of the Apostles a place of spiritual nourishment.

Thank you for praying with us. Thank you for listening to us. Most of all, thank you for joining us in our work, in God’s work, of letting the Gospel of Jesus Christ loose on this broken, yet blessed world.