…with firm and certain faith

Today is the Feast Day of “St. Thomas the Apostle” and each year, just four days before Christmas, it is meant to remind followers in the church about the importance of faith. The collect for the day invokes our need this way:

Everliving God, who strengthened your apostle Thomas with firm and certain faith in your Son’s resurrection: Grant us so perfectly and without doubt to believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God, that our faith may never be found wanting in your sight; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Christ shows himself to Thomas,
a mosaic at Washington National Cathedral
by Rowan LeCompte and Irene LeCompte.

Of all the lovely prayers in the Episcopal liturgy, today’s collect is definitely not my favorite. Any human with half a brain who prays for a belief that is “perfect and without doubt” knows that it is a petition akin to praying to Santa for the ability to fly… and then go into a coma.

For to have a faith without any doubt is 1 – not humanly possible (at least for those humans that would prefer to rise above robot status); and 2 – a recipe for stagnation. After all, once a human “achieves” such “perfect belief” status, how can there room for further growth?

I have never been comfortable with the idea that being a “doubting Thomas” is a bad thing. (It is probably the “raging agnostic” trial lawyer in me.) Sometimes, it’s good to be a little skeptical, especially if the news is “too good to be true.” And that was certainly the case with Thomas after being told the “goodest” of all good news that humankind has ever been told, that “The Lord is risen!” (Jn. 20::19-29)

Thomas understood the benefits of healthy skepticism when he made his proclamation to his fellow disciples that he would not (perhaps he could not) believe in such a grand thing. The disciples had shared that his friend and teacher Jesus, who a day earlier hung dead as a door-stop on a Roman cross, had just popped in for a quick visit with them as they cowered behind closed doors “in fear of the Jews.” We don’t know where exactly Thomas was when Jesus first appeared, but he was not there hiding out with them, afraid, behind locked doors.

Jesus understood Thomas’ reluctance too, I think, and that his hesitation may not have been based on the fear that his disciple brothers were playing some sadistic practical joke. Rather, Jesus could fully comprehend that Thomas’ fear about this incredible story was that it was in fact real and true.

And if true, it was the ultimate of all Reality and it would change EVERYTHING!

Maybe that is why Jesus was so compassionate when he reappeared to the disciples a week later. This time, Thomas was present. Far firm admonishing this deep thinker, Jesus simply beckoned Thomas to reach out his hands and touch his wounds.

During this Christmastide, on this darkest day of the year, could it be that Jesus beckons still? And that the invitation to Thomas is our invitation too? And that the path to having a faith “that is never found wanting” may start by touching the wounds of this world, and of those around us, and by acknowledging and attending to our own wounds?

And in so doing, believing that somehow we are touching the Son of God?

The glorious liberty to which you call all your children…

Today (July 20) in the Episcopal Church calendar, we remember and honor and reflect upon the lives of four remarable women whom we VERY MUCH need to remembered right now.

Four remarkable women we rightly remember and honor, especially for these times, for much-needed “vision and courage to stand against oppression and injustice…”

Especially this year and especially during these very troubling times of late, with so many feeling rightly supressed under the thumb of minority rule, the stories of ELIZABETH CADY STANTON, AMELIA BLOOMER, SOJOURNER TRUTH, and HARRIET TUBMAN shine as a lighthouse of hope and a testament to the power of prayer and persistence.

Each of these women, each in their own way, faced oppression and injustice and took whatever steps they could, whenever they could and however the could to liberate and uplift others, changing American history in the process.

The appointed collect on this “Feast Day for Elizabeth, Amelia, Sojourner and Harriet” is truly a prayer for our time:

O God, whose Spirit guides us into all truth and makes us free: Strengthen and sustain us as you did your servants Elizabeth, Amelia, Sojourner, and Harriet. Give us vision and courage to stand against oppression and injustice and all that works against the glorious liberty to which you call all your children; through Jesus Christ our Savior, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

…may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace

The writers of the Book of Common Prayer in their wisdom set aside a specific set of readings for this most secular of holidays, the fire-cracking, rocket-glaring, star-spangled Fourth of July! The appointed Gospel lesson for Independence Day comes from Matthew, and includes the essential admonition from Jesus to “love your enemies; pray for those who persecute you.” (Mt. 5:43-48)

On this 246th birthday of our nation, we Americans — especially those of us who claim to be Jesus-followers — have never been more in need of paying heed to this command so central to Jesus’ teachings and ministry. All four Gospels make inescapably clear that for Jesus this notion of loving enemies was not a quaint suggestion, but indeed a COMMAND — and there was nothing quaint about it. I confess that I often find that little fact horribly inconvenient, and to make matters worse, I’ve come to find that this command to love our enemies is far from impossible because it has very little to do with feelings beyond my control, and a lot to do with how we — how I — choose to act and respond and DO to others with whom I vehemently disagree.

That is especially hard, but especially good, for me to hear on THIS Independence Day.

Usually by mid-morning on Independence Day, I have wiped away more than a few tears of amazement and joy from my annual rereading and rehearing of Jefferson’s immortal words from 246 years ago that, quite literally, changed the world forever. The Declaration of Independence is, for me, the single most important political document ever composed — and the best damn “legal brief” I’ve ever read!

But I must confess that on this July 4, in the Year of our Lord 2022, my heart is much more laden with sad despair for this nation I love than bursting with hopeful joy.

This year, it has been hard for me to stir up great pride for an America that, far from being “one nation under God” is acting like a divided nation under a vocal minority making up rules on behalf of God.

It is quite true that America has always been a “republic” and not a true democracy. It is equally true, however, that our founders envisioned a republic as a need to protect against “the tyranny of the majority” not to establish an authoritarian “tyranny of the minority.”

For the short-term, if not the foreseeable long-term, the outlook for America looks even more fraught with despotic peril, not less. In short, it seems America has become much less American, especially in the last few weeks.

Make no mistake, America is today very much under MINORITY RULE. Consider that just forty U.S. Senators, representing barely more than one-third of all Americans, can — and often do — stop almost any legislation from becoming law, no matter how popular or needed it is. Five of the nine current Supreme Court Justices were nominated by a Presidents that failed to win the popular vote, and the last three given lifetime appointments by a razor-thin majority of Senators representing far less than a majority of Americans.

And so, I’m brought back to our appointed Gospel for this Independence Day, and the Jesus way of moving forward, i.e. the command (there’s that damn pesky word again) to “love your enemies, pray for those that persecute you.”

And so, yes, I will be praying A LOT for those whom I find disagreeable. And I will pray for grace to listen and learn from them. I want — I need — to find out why these fellow citizens and fellow Christians seem to want an America where it is far easier for a troubled teenager to obtain a high-volume assault weapon than it is for a competent adult woman to obtain reproductive health care. Persons of good will can certainly disagree on proper policy, but we should all agree to look honestly at what these current policies in fact are, and the consequences they cause.

Fortunately, the Collect appointed in our Prayer Book for this Independence Day indeed asks for that grace I so desperately need right now. It’s a good place to start:

Lord God Almighty, in whose Name the founders of this country won liberty for themselves and for us, and lit the torch of freedom for nations then unborn: Grant that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. <<

God bless America. We need those blessings now more than ever.

“…born of the Virgin Mary”

(Originally posted in April 2014.  Updated, edited and reposted for the Feast of the Annunciation, 2022.)

Today, March 25, the church celebrates the Feast of the Annunciation, a fact that normally escapes my attention most every March 25th, and it most certainly did in 2014. (After all, there’s not much need for me to note “Just nine more shopping months ’til Christmas!”) But 3/25 on the 2014 calendar “just happened” to come on a Tuesday, and on that particular Tuesday I “just happened” to make it to the small Tuesday evening Eucharist celebrated each week in my home parish. The Celebrant, The Rev. Lisa Saunders, “just happened” to inform the dozen or so assembled faithful about that day’s significance.

Gabriel delivers a “perplexing” proposal to a young girl… with a lot riding on her answer.

That particular Lent, Mary was on my mind – a lot.

Maybe I was just taken by the Gospel reading about Gabriel’s surprise visit to this young Nazarene girl.  Standing before an Archangel, I’m not t all sure I would react with Mary’s sanguine aplomb at some other-worldly being suddenly appearing before me with a hearty, “Greetings, favored one!”

Being “perplexed” would be the least of my reactions. Call me faithless and crazy but I’m thinking Gabe’s reassurance that “The Lord is with you” would somehow strike me as less than reassuring.

Whatever the reason, the term “…born of the Virgin Mary” has now become one of those phrases that just seems to jump out during the liturgy. It is important to note that the term which is often translated to “virgin” in English simply connotes a young unmarried woman of child-bearing age. Most scholars agree that the term in original scripture says more to being a “maiden” than any statement about sexual “purity.”  Regardless, it is her obedience, her surrender, her willingness to walk the unknowable path of the Unknown that has taken more and more of a focus this particular Lent.

As she stood there pondering this sudden proposal from some strange messenger claiming to speak for the Omnipotent Creator, Mary could never have known what all was to come. Indeed, if we as God’s children truly do have God’s awful gift of free will, I wonder sometimes if God actually knew what all was to come?

I love Frederick Buechner’s take on Gabriel’s task in selling Mary on the whole idea…

“(Mary) struck the angel as hardly old enough to have a child at all, let alone this child. But he’d been entrusted with a message to give her, and he gave it…
As he said it, he only hoped she wouldn’t notice that beneath the great, golden wings he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a girl.”
(Luke 1:26-35)

— from Peculiar Treasures

I can never know the anguish, angst and anxiety that a mother feels watching her son take a fearful path. I have witnessed it, though, in my own mother, in the lives of some women I’ve been blessed to know in my life, and in the mother of my own son. It may not be the pain of nails that pierce flesh and bone, but it is searing pain nonetheless and it deeply pierces the human heart.

Jesus’ decision to go to the cross was a sacrifice willingly made, thanks be to God. Mary’s unspeakable sorrow and suffering, watching her child endure that cross, was not.

What do your want me to do for you?

As both a courtroom advocate and civil mediator, I have learned through the years that there are few “declarative” statements more powerful than a tough honest question.

An entire trial can turn on the right question being asked of the right witness at the right time. Likewise, the most intransient “dug in“ positions of the most hostile opponents can be altered by a skilled mediator asking a probing question that has yet to be fully considered.

Blind Bart – Jesus asks him an “absurd” question of life-changing importance

It so happens that this past Sunday, many worshipers in many congregations worldwide heard one of the most important and insightful questions Jesus ever asked.   The appointed Gospel for this week was taken from the most earthy and direct of the four Gospels, Mark.  In its 10th chapter, the writer of Mark tells the story of Jesus leaving the ancient revered city of Jericho, where a few centuries earlier the city walls came a-tumbling down.  Jesus and the large crowd that followed him come upon a person who – before this episode – the world held in a little account, a “blind beggar” named Bartimaeus.

As the crowd comes closer, this sightless destitute begins shouting at Jesus, calling him by name and the messianic title “Son of David” and beseeching Jesus to “Have mercy on me!”  At first, the crowd tries to shut him up, but old “Blind Bart” yells all the more loudly, “SON OF DAVID! HAVE MERCY ON ME!!!”  Jesus stops and tells the crowd to call him forward. Bartimaeus immediately, springs forward, casting aside his cloak and somehow makes his way to Jesus.

It is at that moment that Jesus asks him the question.  On one level it seems absurd, maybe even a little mocking or cruel.  In reality, it reveals layer upon layer of insight, probing the depths of not only human nature but into the nature and mystery of Jesus himself.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks the blind beggar.

This question would be a lot easier for me and my cynical trial lawyer self if I could keep it at arm’s length, a rhetorical question asked to a different person in different circumstances “a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.”  But there is something nagging and gnawing, Some Thing beckoning within that will not let me escape the terrifying liberation of knowing that question is not just for Blind Bart.  It is for ME.   It is not only for me of course, but for anyone willing to listen and dare be so bold to answer. Regardless, I can’t answer it for anyone else, and no one else can answer it for me.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks. For Bartimaeus, the answer was “I want to see again,” which I do not think for a minute he meant to be limited to the repairing of his optic nerves. What we do know is that Bart was in fact healed, probably had 20-20 vision (spiritual as well as physical) without benefit of Lasik surgery, and “followed Jesus along the way.” This blind beggar of little account became so important to the early believers that his story is included not only in Mark (10:46-52) but also later in Matthew (20:29-34) and Luke (18:35-43).

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks. I don’t have my answer yet.  Sometimes, I know my answer (at least in attitude, even if too fearful to express it otherwise) is to just leave me alone. 

That’s the one request Jesus seems to have no interest in granting.

In sure and certain hope…

It is often said that the opposite of faith is doubt. When I look at the world today, and especially when I observe many self-proclaimed “Christians” in the news, the “evidence” points me to a different “verdict.”

The opposite of faith is not doubt; it is certainty.

Sure and certain hope: Truth in Paradox

Many “Christians” on podcasts and TV and talk radio, particularly those that proclaim their Christianity the loudest, don’t remind me a whole lot of Jesus. They seem absolutely sure it is “God’s Will” — just to cite a few examples — that requiring a young student to wear a mask in school is “child abuse,” or that homosexuality is “an abomination,” or that government should force every woman to carry an unintended and unwanted pregnancy to term.  It is one thing to sincerely have and prayerfully be led to those beliefs. It is quite another to be so cock-sure certain that your beliefs are in lock-step with the Almighty in every situation and for all time, and to impose those beliefs upon all of society.  When that happens — and I wish it were not so often — it is not their faith that I see in action; it is their certainty.

That is not to say certainty is all bad. Indeed, certainty has a place in faith no doubt (pun intended). It is just of a different variety.

In one of the most moving prayers in the entire lexicon within The Book of Common Prayer, we Episcopalians express a form of certainty at the grave, as we fully “commit” and “commend” our dearest loved ones — and ourselves — to God’s never-failing care.  These final words from “The Committal” liturgy never fail to take my breath away:

In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life
through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty
God our brother/sister N., and we commit his/her body to the ground; 
earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless
him/her and keep him/her, the Lord make his face to shine upon him/her
and be gracious to him/her, the Lord lift up his countenance upon
him/her and give him/her peace. Amen.

It may seem paradoxical that “hope” can somehow still be “sure” and “certain.” The older I get though, the more I find great truths in paradox.

This side of Paradise, that is my certainty.

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