What kind of boat are we in?

Readings

As you know the weaknesses of each of us, let each one find you, Eternal Father, strong to save Amen.

I'm glad we sang the Navy Hymn this morning - because today we're going to talk about boats - and baptism

Our first reading recounts the story of Noah and the flood. And then our Epistle reading, from 1 Peter, gives an interpretation that Noah's rescue from the flood pre-figures baptism, which is a rescue from death through water.

In many churches, the baptismal font is right by the door into the nave, because it's through the waters of baptism that we enter the community of the church.
And "nave" - the area where everyone sits - comes from the same root as 'navy' and relates to boats. The idea being that the church is like Noah's ark, and in it we're being saved from chaos and destruction.
In ancient literature of the near east, a large body of water was a frightening thing - chaotic, unpredictable. 

It's an early part of Hebrew and later of Christian theology to show God having more power that the chaotic forces of the sea. In Genesis, the very first image we have is of the spirit of God moving over the face of the deep, and God speaking into the formless void and creating order and life out of that chaos. In the Gospels, Jesus also is shown exhibiting this kind of authority over chaos - he calms a storm and walks on the water.

Through God's transformative power, what was wild, unpredictable, and destructive becomes a path to salvation. This is the water of baptism - still - we are pulled out from the water like we're being saved from drowning.

Imagine you've fallen into the ocean, waves tumbling you around - you can't breath; you're freezing - you know you're going to die. Suddenly something is tugging on you; strong hands catch hold of your coat and haul you up out of the water. Dripping, choking and sputtering, you feel the deck underneath you.

That's one metaphor that the church has for itself - one way of thinking about what this community is: a boat - into which all kinds of people have been rescued.
Look around - what a scraggly bunch of castaways we are!
And this boat - is it going to hold us?

The Rev. Melanie Barbarito shared a great analogy once that I like, comparing people in churches to people aboard a cruise ship versus a battleship. On a cruise ship, there are crew and passengers; the crew do all the work, and the passengers buy a ticket to come aboard and enjoy themselves - the whole point of the endeavor is the passengers' enjoyment of the ride - that's what the crew are there to ensure, etc. 

On a working ship, though, everyone has a job to do, and all of it's necessary. Everyone shares the same mission - nobody is just along for the ride

Her point, of course, is what kind of ship do you think you're sailing on? And what's your role?

It's best not to push an analogy too far, but it could also be interesting to consider other types of ships - not just a battleship but other kinds of working ships or pleasure ships.

What kinds of churches have you sailed with?

• An aircraft carrier - a huge, tightly regulated, interconnected complex, sending out missions in all directions
• Maybe a research vessel - a small group with a specific question, studying it in great detail
• What about a ferry - a crowded bunch of strangers just trying to get from here to there - from earth to heaven
• A search and rescue ship, going out specifically to look for people in distress, with specially-designed tools for responding
• Possibly you've been on a submarine - a close community that goes to great lengths to insulate itself, poking its periscope up occasionally to look out at the world
• Maybe you've tried to be a church by yourself - sailing around in a kayak
• And there are tons of other possibilities: pirate ships, shrimp boats, hospital ships, glass-bottomed tour boats, canoes, tall ships, house boats...

Take a minute to think about it - what church did you first find yourself on the deck of when you were hauled out of the water of baptism? 
What other churches have you sailed with? 

And what about us? What kind of ship are we?

If this image is a helpful one for you, then try to think of what your role is on this ship's crew - or what it could be. What skills or gifts do you have that fit with the mission - or how can you help the others on board?

After our Ashes to Go experiment this past Wednesday, I think someone needs to go up on deck at least occasionally and just scan the water - you might see a hand sticking up - "not waving but drowning" - the world is still at times a wild, confusing tumult to be dropped into.

Let's keep in prayer our little boat - and all the boats at sea - both the literal and figurative ones. 

O hear us when we cry to thee, for those in peril on the sea.

Ash Wednesday

Readings:

Joel 2:1-2,12-17 or Isaiah 58:1-12

Psalm 103 or 103:8-14

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

Today is Ash Wednesday, when we are reminded that we don’t have all the time in the world.

This is an excellent video meditation produced by Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Phoenix, AZ:

Today begins the season of Lent, when the church tries to slow itself down and take a good look around its house and do some spring cleaning. A lot of mess can accumulate over a year. When you’re in a rush, going from one crisis to another, you don’t really notice the papers piling up on the table or the beans growing fungus in the fridge. But just because you’re not paying attention to the mess doesn’t mean it isn’t there. What if company dropped by? As soon as they walked in the door, every dirty sock, every piece of string on the carpet and every smudge of peanut butter on the counter would have a neon sign pointing at it.

Lent is one time in the church year when we remind ourselves that we’re expecting company. Just like we got together before the Bishop’s visit to clean up our house physically – wash, vacuum, throw out, rearrange...., we also need to clean up our “house” spiritually. And it’s not just a one-person job. It takes all of us.

Consider these thoughts on Lent from the Very Rev. Tony Clavier, rector of St. Paul’s in LaPorte, Indiana:

"Too easily our [Lenten commitments] begin to look like holy variations on New Year’s resolutions, and we know how long they last!
Part of the problem is that we individualize Lent. We begin with me. Because we begin with me, the whole thing slides into another form of personal spirituality, perhaps somewhat ruined by our sly hints to others about just what it is we are sacrificing.
Sacrifice in Christianity, as with our Jewish ancestors, means the offering of life. Its culmination is Jesus’ offering for us on Calvary.
...
Lent’s forty days prepare us for the Cross and the Resurrection, and no good intentions about giving up something gets us to that “Green Hill far away.” True, once our goal for Lent is established, fasting and abstinence is a way to keep us on track, but the goal comes first. The goal is simple but profound. It begins with our parish church. How does our community of the faithful intend to spend Lent together? What extra acts of worship or study will be added to the calendar? In what ways will the parish reach out to the world? We begin there. These extras on the calendar are not for the holy few. They determine how each of us may spend Lent, and guide us to choose individual acts of love that fit into that wider program.
At the same time, we remember that what we do doesn’t earn us God’s love. The question rather is how may I, and we, as a parish, become worthy of Christ’s death and passion? How do we deserve His conquering death for us and giving us eternal life?
On the one hand, we can’t earn and can never deserve God’s love for us in Christ. But we can open ourselves to the gift and seek to rid ourselves of those things that get in the way of God’s redeeming grace. We used to call these impediments the Seven Deadly Sins. Obviously gluttony was among them. Those old sins – do look them up or Google them – were neat ways of reminding us just how “self” gets in the way of service. Now, of course, you may feel you do pretty well in avoiding these failings and fallings. But just ask your partner, your children, your parents, or your best friends. With a little nudging they will come up with examples of bad temper, feeling sorry for yourself, being envious, or angry.
The point isn’t that we dwell on these things, but that we offer them daily to God in our devotions, certain that God forgives and strengthens us.
The gospel today reminds us that the smudge of ashes on our foreheads may either be a boast, or it may be a sign to us and to others that this Lent will be about more than giving up chocolate; it will be a time when God’s redeeming work transforms each of us and our parishes.
So may it be."

Here at St. John’s, we’ve been given an opportunity to slow down and take a close look at what we’ve been doing as a parish and consider what we want to do next. During Lent, we need to take that task seriously and clean up around here.

We need to fix things that are broken – relationships, models for doing ministry, whatever isn’t working right.

We need to throw some things out – old grievances, rotten attitudes – whatever is cluttering up the place and making it stink.

We may even need to let go of some successes and things that were good at one time if they’re not relevant to what God’s calling us to do now.

Some of the things you’ll come across, you won’t want to throw out because you have fond memories of them, and you hope you can use them again. This will really be a challenge for St. John’s especially. I hear y’all talking a lot about your past. But I think God is envisioning for us a future. We’ll have to let some things go to have an open hand to receive something new. Another thing that can happen when we begin a deep cleaning is that we may find treasures we forgot or didn't know we had, and that's something to look forward to.

Some of the dirt and gunk you’ll come across, you won’t know who put it there – it doesn’t matter; if you see a mess, clean it up. God is constantly having to clean up after us, so one way to express gratitude for that is to graciously clean up after each other when we have an opportunity.

We did a good job cleaning up the building for Bishop Doyle's visit. Now let’s work on cleaning up the rest of our church – inside as well as out - to be a functional home for Christ to live in and work from.

Amen.

Bless the dying

5th Sunday in Lent, Year C - Readings

Mary anoints Jesus' feet with aromatic oil and wipes them with her hair; the house fills with the fragrance of the perfume. What is she doing? Jesus explains that she is anointing him for burial.

Not long before, Mary had rubbed the same kind of oil on her brother Lazarus's feet and helped wrap his body with spices in long strips of cloth before they buried him. Earlier, when Lazarus was sick, they had sent word to Jesus, but he hadn't come, and her brother died. She cried for days. Then finally Jesus came, and he raised her brother from the dead.

Now, they are all here together again, in Bethany, a small town outside Jerusalem, where Jesus knows his death is waiting. This evening, about a week before Passover, he has come to his friends' home for dinner. Lazarus is sitting at the table; Martha is serving the food. Judas is glaring at his weirdo little sister, who has now untied her hair, and perfume is filling the house.
Before we go further, I want to clarify some mix-ups that you may have about Mary and about this situation.
You are not alone (but you are also not correct) if you think this is Mary Magdalene. You're also wrong if you assume she is or ever was a prostitute. But this is not completely your fault; it used to be an official interpretation, articulated by Pope Gregory in a sermon in 591. Now, however, people officially agree this interpretation was wrong, but it's hard to change a story people have become so committed to. ("Mary Magdalene: Saint or Sinner?")

Why did the Pope say these women (Mary of Bethany, Mary Magdalene and another woman in Luke's gospel) were all the same? One actual theory is that there were just too many Marys and it was confusing, so the church combined them to clean up the story.
There are a lot of Marys in the Bible: there's Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Mary the wife of Clopas, Mary the mother of Joses and Salome, and "the other Mary" as well as this Mary – Mary of Bethany. But you can't just amalgamate them.
Imagine if we decided: It's too confusing to have three Carols in our congregation. From now on, let's just say they are all the same Carol. Won't that make things clearer?
We also have several Johns: we even have several Father Johns in our history. Why not, for the sake of economy, just combine them all into one conglomerate priest we could name "Fr. John William Bedingfield Sonnen" – "Fr. John" for short. And if there are priests whose names we don't remember, they can also be included as part of "Fr. John."


This is basically what happened to Mary of Bethany. But she is her own person, and who she is and what she does in this story are important in the Gospel, which is also part of our story.
We are Christians; Jesus is the Christ, and Mary of Bethany is someone who acted toward Jesus in a way that was exactly appropriate. As Episcopalians, we also strive to act in ways that are exactly appropriate in each situation – so it would be good for us to pay attention to Mary of Bethany.

Who was Mary of Bethany, and what allows her to respond to Jesus in a way that is so fitting?
Mary of Bethany is that same Mary of Mary & Martha fame – she sat a Jesus' feet while her sister was busy in the kitchen, and when Martha complained to Jesus that he should make her help with the work, Jesus said, Leave her alone; she's doing the right thing.

One thing I learned from Bishop Doyle's scripture reflections this week was that some scholars say Mary is also Judas Iscariot's sister. Imagine that! What a family group: Mary & Martha, Lazarus, and Judas. And their dad is Simon the Leper.
In this story, Judas is complaining about his sister's behavior. She has basically just poured a year's salary down the drain as far as he's concerned, so he complains to Jesus about the waste. Like he'd said to Martha, Jesus tells Judas, Leave her alone - she's doing exactly the right thing.


A lot of commentaries make what I consider to be a patronizing and idiotic assumption that when Mary poured the perfumed oil on Jesus feet, she had really no understanding of what she was doing or why.
I think she knew what she was doing. There is a long tradition of people, particularly the prophets, acting out messages: Jeremiah wearing a yoke to illustrate Israel's enslavement, Hosea marrying a prostitute to show how God is faithful to his unfaithful people, Ezekiel making a tiny model of Jerusalem and besieging it, and on and on – and they all did these things intentionally, putting the meaning into words later.
In the same way, Jesus put into words the meaning of Mary's actions, to clarify what she was doing and why. Every week, we do something similar when we participate in the Eucharist to remember Jesus' sacrifice for us and the new life we have in his new life: "We remember his death. We proclaim his resurrection…" Actions help us remember, and the words explain the meaning.

When it comes to memory, the senses are the best triggers - and the most powerful is the sense of smell. Nothing can pull you so powerfully or so quickly back into a particular time or place as a familiar smell. In this story, it's clear that people remembered the smell of the perfume filling the hosue, because they specifically wrote that into the story. The smell was a powerful part of their memory of what happened there. What might it have triggered for them on that night?

If people at that time were familiar with preparing bodies for burial, those smells would already be associated for them pretty powerfully, but especially for that particular family. Remember, it was not long ago that Lazarus had been raised from the dead – but before that, he died and had to be anointed for burial.

Lazarus himself was at the table that night; what would the smell have triggered for him? He was the one who had been embalmed in those oils and spices. As he sat there, maybe he smelled their sharp scent stinging his nostrils and was back in the dark of the tomb again, waking up bound head to toe, trying to suck air through layers of linen cloth around his face, struggling upright and pulling at the shroud, lurching forward and suddenly blinking in the sunlight. And now, with that same smell filling the air, Lazarus watches his sister anoint with embalming perfume the feet of the man who brought him back from death.
Martha stands nearby, the smell taking her even a few days further back, to the day of her brother's death: no time to grieve, too much to do, but then working together with her sister to prepare his body for burial, closing his beautiful eyes and then finally binding his face in white linen cloth. When Lazarus came out of the tomb four days later, restored – it was like a dream. After Jesus brought her brother back, it seemed impossible to imagine that smell ever coming into their home again – but here it was, filling her with fresh grief, even though her brother was sitting at the table in front of her, alive. How is it possible to equate that smell with Jesus? How could it be possible that he would die?

This is a family very recently acquainted with death, so it may be that not everybody needed to have it explained. Except Judas – all he could smell was money. But possibly for the others, a much deeper realization was settling in. Just because Lazarus had been raised, that didn't mean death would never touch them again. It would – very soon.
Mary paid attention and knew Jesus well enough to realize that this man, whom they loved and who had done so much for them, was preparing to die. As impossible as that seemed to be to imagine or accept, she had already accepted it and she had made preparations. Now, though she didn't want it to be, the time was right, and the house began to fill with the fragrance as she poured out her offering of love and grief.

Some of the most beautiful and mysterious works we perform as a Church are our prayers and service for those who are dying. Many of you have experience of offering this kind of service to those you love.
Mary of Bethany blessed Jesus in this way. May we take her as a model for how to "bless the dying, soothe the suffering and pity the afflicted." (BCP p.134 from the service of Compline in the Daily Office)
Amen.
Given to St. John's, Silsbee on March 21, 2010

I don't need your cow

Readings: Exodus 20:1-17   Psalm 19    1 Corinthians 1:18-25 

John 2:13-22

Lord, help us to cleanse our hearts so we can prepare with joy for the Paschal feast.

Yelling at people, turning the furniture over, throwing money on the floor, telling people to get out, and chasing cows and sheep with a whip…

Jesus was kind of upset, it seems like.

Why? What’s he so upset about, exactly?

Is it money? Does he not like the idea of people bringing money into the temple? I don’t think so. Remember the story of “the widow’s mite?” When the widow brought her money put in the offering in the temple, he didn’t run over and slap the two little coins out of her hand and yell at her… So, it’s not money he objects to, per se…And not even money in the temple.

Is it the animals? Does he think it’s inappropriate to have animals running around in the temple? We don’t bring animals to church with us, usually (except maybe for the Feast of St. Francis and the Blessing of the Animals). But at the temple, the animals were regularly part of the service. They were for sacrifice, to make payment to God for sins – or for thanksgiving. If your worship requires animal sacrifice, you have to have animals there. Jesus’ own parents brought doves to the temple to sacrifice when he was a baby. So, he’s not upset that there are animals around. 

Was it the fact that people were selling the animals maybe?

Or that they were selling them in the temple?

I think that’s more the issue – but why was he upset about that? It seems like it would just be a convenience for people needing to get animals for the offerings and sacrifices.

Let’s imagine a contemporary parallel.

How could we make it more convenient for people to make offerings at church? You know, sometimes I forget my checkbook, and so I’m not prepared when I get here on first Sundays.

Maybe we could put an ATM in the narthex. Just for convenience.

That way, people could easily get money to put in the offering if they forget and come unprepared.

What do you think? Wouldn’t that be helpful?

If the goal of the offering is convenience, then, sure - why not?

Well, it would be tacky, for one thing. And generally, Episcopalians are on board with Jesus 100% on this – we don’t do tacky. (Thanks be to God!)

But the ATM and convenience store of ready-to-order animal sacrifices at the temple was not just tacky. It also showed that people were lazy and not taking the point of the sacrifice seriously. They were coming to offer sacrifice to God, and they were unprepared. It’s not that they didn’t know what was being asked of them; they just figured a way to accomplish it in the easiest way possible. And in that, they were totally missing the point.

“God wants a cow for a sin offering – okay – I’ll buy one when I get there. That way, I don’t have to haul it all the way to Jerusalem. I’ll just pick one up at the gate on the way in – less hassle.”

God gets pretty frustrated with this attitude and we hear this repeatedly in the Psalms and in the prophets. Here’s one example.

“Hear, O my people and I will speak, O Israel, I will testify against you.

I am God, your God. Not for your sacrifices do I rebuke you; your burnt offerings are continually before me. I will not accept a bull from your house, or goats from your folds. For every wild animal of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. …

If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the world and all that is in it is mine.

Do I eat the flesh of bulls or drink the blood of goats?

Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and pay your vows to the Most High”

(Ps 50:7-14)

I don’t need your cow! – it’s my cow anyway! I don’t need your money. I don’t buy things. I made everything. Do you seriously think this is about you giving me something I need?

David gets the point of this in Psalm 51.

“O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise.

For you have no delight in sacrifice; if I were to give a burnt offering, you would not be pleased.

The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite  heart, O God, you will not despise.”

(51: 15-17)

Maybe we would never put an ATM in the narthex – but being lazy about what we offer to God, coming to church with our hearts unprepared …

Ever do that?  And it’s not because we don’t know it’s coming – it happens every week at the same time.

Right now, we’re in the season of Lent – which, incidentally, happens every year at the same time. We’re supposed to be preparing for Easter, which also (to be clear) happens every year at the same time. If you are concerned about not knowing the exact date, let me show you something. Take a look the Book of Common Prayer that you have there in your seat. Find page 883. Here, you can see when Easter will be for the next 80 years. There’s absolutely no excuse to be unprepared.

Don’t be lazy and wait to the last minute to try and spiff up that morning –

God is not interested in whether we can take a nice picture wearing clean, new clothes. God is interested in giving us a clean, new life.

How do we prepare for that? We have to give our lives to God to let him clean them up. And how do we do that? By giving up things we are attached to that aren’t God – and trying to put God in place of that other stuff.

It’s really his place to begin with – like the cows people gave him that he already owned – when we bring offerings and make sacrifices, we’re really only giving God what belongs to him in the first place. God doesn’t need your cow – he doesn’t need your money. He doesn’t need the chocolate you’re not eating or whatever. God wants your life. In making your sacrifices, then, bring offerings that represents you – your life. God wants to come with you on the journey – he doesn’t want some souvenir you picked up in the airport.

So, prepare now for Easter. During Lent, give yourself as an offering and a sacrifice to God.

Amen

  

Nicodemus - faith and reason

Year A, Lent 2
Readings: Genesis 12:1-4a Romans 4:1-5, 13-17 John 3:1-17 Psalm 121


The story of Nicodemus is fascinating to me. I think it describes what often happens when a logical, analytical mind encounters spiritual truth.
Nicodemus is trying to understand who Jesus is and where his power is coming from - because he figures it has to be from God, but how does that work, exactly?
He's sincere - he really wants to understand, "What is this relationship between body and soul? - between God and man?" but when Jesus answers him, Nicodemus finds the reply very confusing.
Jesus had said that, to see the kingdom of God, everyone needed to be 'born from above,' but that didn't make sense to Nicodemus. "How can anyone be born after having grown old?"
Jesus tells him. "What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit..."
That still didn't clarify it totally for Nicodemus, because his next comment is, "How can these things be?"
I find this conversation encouraging, because I think Nicodemus is an intelligent person, so if he's confused, I feel reassured that, when I'm confused about faith questions, it's not that I'm not smart enough, it's just that the answers really are hard to understand.
I also find it encouraging that, when Nicodemus says he's confused, Jesus works harder at explaining it. I'm grateful for people who have the courage and honesty to say when they don't understand something, even if it makes the teacher irritated, because usually then the teacher will say it again more clearly and maybe use some examples, and the result is that everybody understands better. Think how many people have come to understand God's purpose in sending Jesus to save humanity - which is what our faith hangs on - from the single verse of John 3:16 - part of Jesus' further clarification to Nicodemus. It's such a clear explanation. When I was little, we memorized it in Sunday school. You probably know it, too.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life."
We can partly thank Nicodemus for that excellent summary because he asked the question.
Asking questions is, I think, an important foundation of scientific inquiry, and we've come up in a scientific, questioning age. Everything is being and has been questioned and examined, turned inside out, defined and re-defined - like we were trying to chart and re-map in specific details all the vagueness of the past, to take away the element of mystery that wrapped around everything in the medieval period. We don't want 'hocus pocus'; we want reality - something solid and definite to believe in.
Here's an interesting little piece of linguistic information about that word 'hocus pocus,' the way we talk about words or rituals that seem silly and pointless. "Hocus pocus...abbra cadabra, and Viola! Here's a bunny!"
But it's fake; it's a trick to make you think the magician has powers, but really he doesn't. He just knows how to make you look the other way at the right time.
During the Protestant Reformation, people were beginning to question what the rituals in church were all about, really. The service was all in Latin, and so people didn't know what was being said and mostly didn't understand what was being done, but at some point, the priest would say a particular thing, a bell would ring, and everyone was supposed to look, because the priest would hold up the bread, and that was how you received communion - that's how you received grace. The people who attended the service didn't actually take communion by eating the bread or drinking the wine; they received it by seeing it. So, if you weren't paying attention then, you could miss the main part of the service and seemingly it wouldn't do you any good. But some people started to wonder whether any of those things, which they didn't understand, were actually doing them any good anyway.
People had lost track of what all those things meant that the priest was doing and saying, and they started to question whether those things had any meaning at all. The words sounded like gibberish. When the priest held up the bread, he said (in Latin) "Hoc est corpus meum" - "This is my body." But most people didn't know Latin. So it's not suprising, really that when the priest said "Hoc est corpus meum" - and maybe the bells would drown out the 'meum' part, leaving just "Hoc est corpus..", it's understandible that what people heard was 'Hocus pocus,' - - and that came to have a meaning of its own related to how they felt about what they saw and heard in church. Maybe all these rituals and unintelligible words don't really have a meaning. It's just 'hocus pocus...'
People became dissatisfied with accepting things they didn't understand; they wanted reasons and answers.
Religion has reacted in different ways to this cultural shift of wanting to question everything - in many instances defensively, making it wrong to question issues of faith, which put a lot of people in the predicament of feeling they had to choose between thinking or believing. Some people were executed because of dilemmas like this. And some fought back, carrying out executions of their own and breaking all the things that smacked of mystery and 'hocus pocus' to get back to a 'true religion' based on reason and not meaningless movements and unintelligible words. But just because someone doesn't know the meaning or understand the words doesn't mean they don't have meaning - we have to be careful to balance our capacity for reason and desire for explanations with respect for what we don't understand.
As Fr. John and Fr. Jack discussed in the Lenten series class Wednesday night, "faith vs. reason" is a false dichotomy - that's just not how it is - God made us with the ability to reason. It's only right that we should use it - and the faithful use of gifts God gave us will not lead us away from God but toward God, even if the path seems to wind around.
And it has wound around quite a bit - even in the past 10-20 years, not to mention the past 100. Our culture has changed a lot in this questioning and exploration. One thing I think we're learning from this process is that we're not likely to ever understand it all. For every new thing we've learned this century, we've discovered whole areas of things we never dreamed about before - and each new thing is more beautiful, and complicated and amazing than we imagined. Remember what whole new worlds, literally, were opened up to our imaginations by the invention of the telescope and the microscope, for example, and more recently with quantum physics, genetics, and multi-dimensional math.
As we look for answers to our questions about life and the world, as we try to understand, God shows us new things, and each thing we understand is more amazing than we had imagined before... until I think eventually, more than answers to our questions about life and the world, we begin to want to know the God who made this world and gave us life.
In our class Wednesday night, talking about how the world began and why we're here, we had a big discussion about this relationship between faith and science. George Kondos made a comment about Einstein saying that science was trying to understand the mind of God. Einstein represents to many people the pinnacle of modern scientific thought - one of the most brilliant minds of all time - and his conclusion is that science is essentially a search to know God.
Isn't that really theology?
I love theology, and I think it's the highest of all fields to study, but I think even that is not where the journey of faith is leading. One of the most brilliant theologians of all time - St. Thomas Aquinas - after he had written tomes of material constituting a complex and beautiful systematic theology, one day completely stopped writing. Because, he said, something had happened while he was celebrating the Eucharist one day, and whatever that experience was, it made everything he ever wrote seem like 'so much straw.' Compared to what he'd been trying to describe in his theological writings, the reality was so much more amazing - so the thing to do then was worship, not write about it.
Our ability to reason and our desire to understand may be things God created in us, but they're tools, things to help us get to where we understand enough to worship, and at that point, the rest of it, as amazing and complicated and beautiful as it is, won't even be able to hold a candle to the one who made it. This may partly explain the stories why some people who meet Jesus just stop whatever they were doing to follow Him - even though not everybody does it immediately when they meet him, like some of the disciples did.
As I mentioned at the beginning, I love the story of Nicodemus, because it took him a while to work it out. Today's gospel reading is not the only place he shows up. Here, in this passage, we see the beginning of his journey - questioning, trying to understand who Jesus is and how he has access to God's power. Later, he comes up at Jesus' trial, trying to offer a voice of reason in Jesus' defense. Then, still later, he is one of those who come to take Jesus' body down from the cross, "bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes.." - kind of like those wise men from the East, whose scientific inquiries led them to follow a star.
Nicodemus, a Pharisee who was diligently trying to observe and follow the law, started from a different place. While the magi started from science, Nicodemus started from religion, but they all found themselves on a journey of faith that ultimately led them to worship the God who made it all, who created the star, and who gave the law, and who sent his Son to show us how much God wants us to know him and be with him, because he made us and loves us, brains, questions, and all.

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Given to St. John's, Silsbee
Feb. 17, 2008