J Appears to His Friends

Second Sunday of Easter

Acts 4:32-35

Psalm 133

1 John 1:1-2:2

John 20:19-31

The Christian faith is bookended by two great mysteries:

the mystery of the Incarnation and the mystery of the Resurrection

During the season of Christmas we hear the truth that God came to dwell among us as an infant, completely dependent on human kindness.

And now in the season of Easter we declare that this same child grew to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God and was wrongfully arrested and executed for it.

But not only that, but after all seemed lost, after his shameful death and the scattering of his followers in confusion, Jesus was raised from the dead, triumphing over sin and death.

But, if you were one of his disciples, in those days after his death, would you be ready to believe his resurrection was about to happen?

Imagine you are Peter or Martha, and Mary Magdalene comes to you on that morning and tells you that she has seen Jesus and that he is not dead but alive.

Would you believe it?

Suppose that while you are there, Jesus suddenly appears among you.

And it is not a ghost or mass hallucination.

Instead he is there and you see the marks on his body, the marks that showed how terribly he died.

And he does not upbraid you for not believing but instead says, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

Hear that phrase again: “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

This one you have loved so much, who has been murdered so violently, he says to you simply: “Peace.”

And then next Jesus breathes on you – literally giving the breath of God — the Holy Spirit.

And then he tells you that if you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven.

This is the core of what Jesus has sought to teach his disciples – he has come to grant the peace of God, found especially in the forgiveness of sins.

In that moment of receiving the Spirit, the disciples grasp who Jesus truly is.

And they grasp who they are – apostles – apostle in the New Testament Greek meaning those sent to continue the mission of God in Christ on earth.

But suppose you were not there at that pivotal moment.

Suppose you are Thomas.

For whatever reason, you were not there when Jesus appeared to the others that Easter Day.

And you wonder if all they said is really true.

But then you, Thomas, receive a gift – Jesus appears to you and the other disciples a week later.

And you see all that the disciples saw before.

And you too fully grasp who Jesus was in that moment and you worship him as your Lord and God.

I think John is telling us that in the act of recognizing who Jesus truly is; that act also makes Thomas an apostle, a sent one.

And so here we are.

We are all like Thomas in our own ways.

We were not there when Jesus was raised from the dead.

And yet every week we are called to proclaim this great mystery of the resurrection.

Indeed Jesus says of people like us, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe” (20:29).

The Apostle Paul says that to the world, believing that someone was raised from the dead can seem like great foolishness.

So why do we believe?

For each one of us that believing has different beginning points.

But I would venture that for most of us we believe because our hearts have been touched by someone who spoke the good news of Jesus to us.

It could have been your mother or father, a friend, a teacher, a counselor, a pastor.

I would argue then that the message of the good news of Jesus has come to us through apostles in our day, ones who have been sent to us in our lives.

And to go one step further, the one who brought you to the gospel, that person had been brought there by other apostles who had proclaimed the gospel to them.

Now, let us consider that if there are about 25 years in a generation then we could imagine a line of about 80 people between the ones who proclaimed Jesus to us and those first apostles who encountered the risen Jesus two thousand years ago.

Imagine that line of 80 people extending from the pack of the church all the way up to the altar.

Imagine the ones who have gone before you — the ones sent out to proclaim “what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands” (I John 1:1).

We are the ones now sent to proclaim the Good News of the Risen Christ.

As you come up to this altar and as you sit in your pew while others receive communion, imagine us all flowing up to the altar seeking the risen Christ and meeting him there and returning again to our seat, sent from the altar as his apostles in the world.

Christ is risen, let us go forth from here as his apostles, his pierced hands and pierced feet in this world.


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Maundy Thursday

April 2, 2015

Christ Church Chapel

Seminary of the Southwest


You don’t see Jesus get up and took off his robe.

You are too busy trying to make sense of the table set before you.

It is Passover.

But there is no Passover meal set out on the table.

There is no lamb — just some bread and other simple food.

It is only after a few minutes that you look around.

You notice Jesus is not with you.

You turn your head from where you are reclining along the banquet table.

You see him in the corner.

There he is with his robe off and filling a bowl with some water.

You watch him go over and start washing the feet of Andrew and then Philip.

But you all had your feet washed already before you sat down to eat.

The servant boy who had done it now is fumbling around, thinking he must have missed something.

He rushes over to do his work again, but Jesus kindly turns him back.

Simon Peter pulls his feet in when Jesus turns to him next.

But Jesus says, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”

And then you realize this is not about your feet, dirty or clean.

He is showing you that you have been made clean.

Clean of everything — inside and out — but only if you let Jesus be this close to you, gently washing and wiping your feet.

When he washes the feet of Judas, you see the tender look Jesus gives Judas as he looks deep into his eyes, while caressing his feet in those towels.

And you see Judas turn his face away, unable to hold his gaze.

When Jesus finishes and takes his place back at the table, he tells all of you that you should wash the feet of one another.

Just as he has for Andrew and Philip and Peter and Judas and you.

Thinking back on it, you know that you could not have washed the feet of Judas.

To do it would have meant forgiving him and loving him.

And you think what Judas did was unforgivable

But Jesus did wash the feet of Judas and when he did it, he loved him.

Looking back on it all, you realize this is what he meant when he told you his new command was to love one another
The next day, after a terrible night, you will stand there at the cross.

You again will see Jesus without his robe.

But this time it will not be carefully folded on a stool.

Now it is in a pile at the foot of a soldier.

And again on that next day, you also see a washing bowl next to Jesus.

But this time it will not be to wash your feet but so you that you can wash his body.

And when you are done with that sad and silent work, you will turn and wash the feet of the one next to you.

And it is then that you will know that Jesus truly has come from God.

And that he has returned to God.

And you will pick up the bowl and go back to the room where you have all gathered and you will wait.

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Ashes to Go, Blessings on the Way

For the first time today I participated in Ashes to Go. I joined other people from St. David’s in Austin at the corner of 6th and Congress in front of the Starbucks for 90 minute shift.
I would guess that in the time we were there we imposed ashes on about 60 people. Maybe more. Several things struck me during my time there.
First, people came with openness. Many were appreciative, saying they were not able to get to church and felt the need to have the ashes in any way they could. About half said before receiving ashes that they were Roman Catholic. I was not always sure what they meant by this. All of us imposing ashes simply affirmed their identity and offered them ashes. The attitude of all who received ashes was profound gratitude.
Two encounters stand out for me. One was when several of us imposed ashes on about half of a Segway tour group. The other was when we gave ashes to a Christian from Iran. I don’t think her church in Iran had a custom of imposing ashes but she explained she had just moved to America and wanted the ashes as a sign she believed in Jesus. We gave her a card that we gave to every person that included a list of services for St. David’s. She seemed profoundly moved and said she would come to visit.
Some of my clergy colleagues and I had a Facebook discussion today about where the Easter equivalent to Ashes to Go is. If on Ash Wednesday we offer a public witness in preparation for Lent, when does that happen for Easter? Of course, a public action on Easter Sunday might not be as effective downtown or at commuter stations. But what if something was done on Easter Monday? What if we offered a blessing of the baptismal waters from the Easter Vigil? What if we offered a blessing in the name of the Risen Christ? What if we offered to all those people who pass by us a Blessing on the Way?


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Grace and Hope

Thursday of Proper 19

I Corinthains 15:1-11

Psalm 118: 14-29

Luke 7:36-50

Christ Chapel, Seminary of the Southwest


These readings remind me of two big Christian ideas — grace and hope.

Like with all big ideas contained in a few letters, it can be hard to wrap our minds around all that these small words convey.

But I think our readings from Luke and I Corinthians help us better understand them.

First, let’s turn to grace.

Lately I have had occasion to re-read the Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer.

I really believe this document is one of the hidden gems of the 1979 prayer book and I commend it to you for meditation and study (but not right now!).

This is how the BCP defines grace for us:

“Grace is God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved; by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills.” (BCP, 858).

I think the story of the woman from Luke 7 gives us insight into this definition of grace.

The story has us assume that the woman’s sins are forgiven after she has wept over Jesus.

But it is likely that she has been forgiven already.

If we want to fill in the gaps of this story, I can imagine that earlier she had heard the preaching of Jesus or witnessed his miracles of healing and came to him for the forgiveness of sins that he proclaimed.

And I believe that Jesus gave this to her.

In a word, God’s grace, God’s favor, unearned and undeserved, was granted her.

Her mind was enlightened, her heart was stirred, and so she wept.

In light of this theme of grace, note the response of Jesus.

“Your sins are forgiven . . . Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”  (7:48, 50)

In these words, I hear Jesus asking her to stop weeping.

He wants this woman to embrace her forgiveness and go in peace — to enter into the wholeness that God desires for her.

He wants her to enter into the favor God has shown and to dwell in grace.

Ultimately, to live in the confidence of grace is to live in hope.

Christian hope, the catechism defines for us, is “to live with confidence in newness and fullness of life, and to await the coming of Christ in glory, and the completion of God’s purpose for the world.” (BCP, 861)

We can hear the movement into hope in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians.

In the portion we heard from chapter 15, Paul offers a summary of the gospel of Christ he has been commissioned to proclaim — the gospel of his death for our sins and his resurrection.

Paul lists all who have been commissioned to proclaim the gospel, ending with himself, one untimely born, one not fit to be called an apostle.

But he says, “by the grace of God, I am what I am.”

Paul is empowered to proclaim the Gospel by grace.

From that, he proclaims the Gospel in hope — confident in the newness and fullness of life.

He lives, working and straining towards the completion of God’s purpose for the world.

While we might not always be able to quickly and easily say what grace is or what hope is, we can look at the examples of this unnamed woman and Paul as reminders.

And we can look within ourselves to when we experienced God’s favor, to when our hearts were stirred, our minds enlightened, and our wills strengthened.

God’s favor is outstretched now.

Claim it and live in confidence, looking for the completion of God’s purposes in this world.

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Broken Bread and Impossible Hope

Tuesday of Easter 3

May 6, 2014

Acts 7:51-8:1

Ps 31:1-5

John 6:30-35

All Saints Chapel

Church Divinity School of the Pacific


Christianity is a story — a deep sacred story that changes lives in its telling.

As a story it depends on conflict to drive it forward and to draw people in.

But sometimes the conflict we find in Scripture cannot be easily resolved.

We are left grappling with troubling moral questions in our sacred stories.


We encounter this in our Easter lectionary, especially with Acts and John.

These books have profoundly shaped the Christian faith but have also contributed to a long narrative of Christian hostility towards Judaism.

We hear conflict in Acts 7 when Stephen blames the Jewish leaders for killing Jesus, just like other leaders had killed the prophets in the past.

And then these same leaders go and stone Stephen, as if proving his point.

The Jewish priesthood is painted as oppressive and only capable of murdering the righteous.

In John 6 we hear a snippet of a longer argument between Jesus and “Jews.”

In this passage it sounds as if Jesus is dismissing the formative experiences of Israel in the wilderness.

Moses and the God-given miracle of manna seem to matter little.

The old is dismissed – Israel’s sacred story is forced into the past it seems.


These words of conflict have had a terrible effect.

These words have been used to justify a complete rejection of God’s promises to the people of Israel.

They have been used to say that Jews no longer have a covenant with God.

This has not only been incredibly destructive for Jews, but has also served as the blueprint for later Christian abuses in eras of empire and colonialism.

The denial of God’s covenant with the Jews provided the foundation for the denial of the rights of the Lakota and Navajo and Maori and Zulu when European Christians came to their lands.


And yet we also are gathered here because we know that Jesus Christ entered this world and transformed it in the process.

We are here because we have encountered something life giving and completely transformative in him.

We gather because we believe that Jesus is the Bread of Life.

But, how can we gather in the breaking of the bread when claiming that Jesus is the Bread of Life has been used against Jewish people to say their story of life giving bread is best remembered as a story to fade away?

How can we break bread in a way that creates peace and not division?


This search for unity amidst division is at the heart of the mystery of God’s work in the world.

The gospels themselves force those who encounter Jesus Christ to make a choice about who they believe he is.

This process of making a choice about Jesus, whether he is the Anointed One sent by God, itself leads to conflict and division.

While these processes have life changing outcomes, they also have bled over, literally, into the lives of innocent people.

How do we live in the broken spaces that these readings open up?

What do we do with the stories of Jewish resistance to the Gospel of Jesus?


First, we should note that these stories are not history, at least not in our way of thinking.

They are not facts in the way we take facts.

We are dealing with narrative in a strongly rhetorical form that the people of Israel knew well.

We hear this in both stories – with the allusion to the giving of manna in the wilderness in John and when Stephen speaks of the tradition of leaders persecuting the prophets.

The subtext of the manna episode is that Israel was not satisfied with the giving of manna but demanded even more from God.

And the Hebrew Scriptures attest that the appointed leaders of Israel too often (but not always!) rejected God’s message from the prophets.

Part of Israel’s own story they told each other was that the people of God are not perfect.

Sometimes they fail totally in keeping their side of the covenant with God.

Sometimes the people of God grumble over what they lack when they should give thanks for what God is doing among them.

Sometimes those in power persecute the prophets when instead the proper response to the word of God is repentance.

And yet, the people of Israel always remain the people of God because God is not a breaker of promises.

Again and again, God promises to Israel through the prophets that he will always abide with them.

Israel always remains God’s chosen people for the sake of the nations — that truth is at the core of the very mission of the disciples of Jesus.


But the language of division in our readings remains.

We are not the first to have to grapple with these divisions.

These divisions were a core preoccupation of the Apostle Paul.


In Romans 11, we hear these words from Paul:

“So that you may not claim to be wiser than you are, brothers and sisters, I want you to understand this mystery: a hardening has come upon part of Israel, until the full number of the Gentiles has come in.

And so all Israel will be saved . . .

As regards the gospel they are enemies of God for your sake; but as regards election they are beloved, for the sake of their ancestors; for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.

Just as you were once disobedient to God but have now received mercy because of their disobedience, so they have now been disobedient in order that, by the mercy shown to you, they too may now receive mercy. . .

O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!

How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! “ (Romans 11:25-33)


We are compelled to sit with the reality of disunity among the people of God, Israel and the Church.

But even among these divisions, God has promised in a deep and mysterious way, to keep his covenant with his people, both Israel and now the Church.

This is the case even when Israel appears to be an enemy of the Gospel.

They still remain beloved of God.

Given this, we are required to not deepen division.


In the very next chapter of Romans, Paul urges us to a life of reconciliation:

“Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.

Live in harmony with one another; …; do not claim to be wiser than you are.

Do not repay anyone evil for evil . ..

If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” (Romans 12:14-18)

These words of Paul take us back to the bread in John 6.


If we believe that God is a keeper of promises, we can affirm that the bread Israel received in the wilderness was good.

We can also say that when we receive our bread, we encounter the Bread of Life who sustains us by the promises that God still offers.

Paul attests that the two realities of the entire people of God, both Israel and the Church, are one in God but for now live in tension.

And we have no choice but to live in the midst of that tension.

We should use that tension to witness to the hope of reconciliation.

And the reality of that tension should inform how we live in other places of conflict – within our church, within our culture, within our own lives.

It may lead us to affirm God’s covenant making with other people like the Navajo or the Maori who have been drawn into the mystery of Christ.


We are a people of hope living in the tension of the impossible because we confess a Risen Christ who impossibly was dead and is now alive.

And we know our hopes are impossibly true because we have met the risen Christ, the Bread of Life, in the broken bread.

We hope because we know that by the power of God the Father the broken body of the Bread of Life was raised up whole and transformed.

And we hope for reconciliation between Israel and the Church because God does not break promises.

We take the broken bread with the audacious hope that the power of God will one day restore us all as one body.

God gave bread to sustain Israel in the wilderness; God gives us the Bread of Life to share in now.


Come, let us eat.

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Absalom Jones and Reconciliation

Commemoration of Absalom Jones

February 13, 2014

Isaiah 11:1-5

Psalm 137:1-6

Galatians 5:1-5

John 15:12-15

All Saints Chapel

Church Divinity School of the Pacific

In commemorating Absalom Jones, the first black priest in the Episcopal Church, I want to offer three snapshots from his life.

The first snapshot:

It is the year 1787 in Philadelphia, a few short years after the United States of America has been founded on the principles of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

On a Sunday morning at St. George’s Methodist Episcopal Church, a mixed congregation of whites and free blacks gather for worship.

Tensions have been on the rise at St. George’s.

Two freed blacks serving as lay ministers, Absalom Jones and Richard Allen, have been actively drawing other free blacks to the church.

With some many blacks joining services and freely mixing with whites, the all white vestry unilaterally rules that all blacks were to be seated only in the balcony.

The free mixing of blacks and whites was a disruption to the perceived order of things.

Absalom Jones and others refused to abide by this act of segregation.

Instead, they knelt in prayer in their usual places, only to be picked up and physically thrown out of St. George’s.

The white leadership of St. George’s was not willing to accept the new life that the blacks of the church represented.

The second snapshot:

In 1793, an epidemic of yellow fever struck Philadelphia, killing almost 4000 people.

As tens of thousands of people fled the city, Allen and Jones led the free black community in ministering to the many sick people left behind.

The black community, laboring out of the conviction that they had a Christian duty to aid the suffering, set to nursing the sick, attending the dead, and ensuring a proper burial.

240 members of the free black community died in this service.

When the yellow fever epidemic ended and many of the white Philadelphia community returned, the black community that had worked on behalf of the sick under Jones’s leadership were wrongfully accused of exploiting the sick and robbing their houses.

Against these false attacks, Jones tried to defend his community, but it was clear that many of the leading whites in Philadelphia regarded them with enmity.

The third snapshot:

In 1794, free blacks established St. Thomas’s African Church with permission to have control over its own affairs and with Jones as its leader.

In 1795 Jones was ordained a deacon by Bishop William White, but he was not made the first African American priest in the Episcopal Church until nine years later in 1804.

Even though St. Thomas was part of the Diocese of Pennsylvania, Bishop White only permitted this if the parish did not send representatives to diocesan conventions.

Blacks could be part of the church, but they were not permitted full life within it.

These stories of Absalom Jones and the black community of Philadelphia are emblematic of the difficult circumstances of African Americans throughout American history.

Several things strike me about these stories.

First, is the persistent fact of racism,not just in United States history generally, but as part of woof and warp of American Christianity.

Second, Absalom Jones never abandons a vision of a life lived in harmony between the freed blacks and the white citizens of Philadelphia.

And finally, what was most evident in these events was the lack of reconciliation between these groups, a burden that must be born by the white Philadelphians.

Reconciliation is one of the greatest human needs.

To be reconciled is to live in harmony, peace, and justice with others.

It is the opposite of discrimination, oppression, rivalry, and enmity.

Reconciliation is at the core of the message of Jesus — it is what logically follows from a life lived as an expression of God’s love made known in Christ.

We hear this in the Gospel reading:

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”  [John 15:12]

Given that in overwhelming numbers those living in the early American republic were Christian, it would be safe to assume that the majority of white Philadelphians were also Christian.

All followers of Jesus Christ are commanded to love one another as Christ loves them.

This love is to be total and self-giving — “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” [John 15:13]

That total self-giving love is evident in the work of the free blacks led by Absalom Jones, who died serving others during the yellow fever epidemic.

They showed that they were the friends of Jesus by doing what he commanded them — to love other Christians completely. [John 15:14]

Jesus desires all his followers to be joined together as friends.

We are not servants of Christ, but his friends, because by his words God has been revealed to us. [John 15:14-15]

And so if we are all friends of Christ, we are certainly not to make one another servants to exploit and abuse.

The white Christian of Philadelphia missed out on a moment of great possibility when they chose to treat Absalom Jones, Richard Allen and the other free blacks as less than friends.

Certainly there were signs of God’s grace at work — Absalom Jones was ordained the first black priest in the Episcopal Church, St. Thomas church still flourishes today as a vital parish, and a precedent was set for the eventual full inclusion of all people in the ministry of the church.

But what could have happened if whites had treated blacks as friends?

In pondering this, I would offer that Jesus’ vision of friendship speaks to his larger desire that all of his followers be made one as he and the Father are one [John 17:21].

In order for friendship and unity to be real among groups that are divided there is a need for reconciliation.

In Absalom Jones’s time, what would reconciliation leading to Christian friendship and unity have looked like?

I imagine it would have started with a fully integrated church at St. George’s.

No one would have been thrown out in the streets for sitting in the wrong place.

There would have been no need for a separate St. Thomas church.

Going deeper, white Philadelphians would have recognized their racism and prejudice for what it was.

Bishop White would have given black Episcopalians full privileges in the diocese.

Others would not have accused blacks falsely during the yellow fever epidemic.

Perhaps, there would have been common cause made to deal with the terrible American sin of slavery and racism then and not let the problem fester for decades and centuries.

So, if we can take the words of Jesus about friendship and apply it to Philadelphia during the time of Absalom Jones, what would it mean for us to apply these same words in this time and place?

How could this church today better serve Christ’s vision of love and unity today?

Where are the divisions in it which must cease?

One of the bedrock teachings about the sacrament of the Eucharist is that before Christians take part in Christ’s body and blood, they should be reconciled to one another.

This is what Paul means when he warns the Corinthians about the divisions that exist among themselves (I Cor. 11:18ff).

And Paul cares about arguments regarding the observance of the Law in the passage we heard from Galatians not because he rejects the Law but he rejects the human use of the Law to divide people against each other.

So, as people of Christ, as a church, as those gathered to receive communion, be reconciled.

Look within yourself — what people or groups do you refuse to be reconciled with?

Who is it that you cannot stand that Christ calls you to love?

Who is it that you cannot even stand to call a Christian that you must love and be reconciled to?

Work to overcome the divisions that separate you from other Christians because until you do that, God’s will for us cannot be fulfilled.

Be reconciled.

Find ways for the love of Christ to transform your relationship with others.

May the one who calls us friends bind us all together in friendship as Absalom Jones sought to be a friend to all in Christ.

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Martyrs Among Us

Eve of All Saints

Sirach 44:1-10, 13-14

Revelation 7:2-4, 9-17

Matthew 5:1-12


October 31, 2013

All Saints Chapel

Church Divinity School of the Pacific


“For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” (Rev. 7:17)


The liturgical celebration of All Saints has always been dear to me.

I am a historian after all; and not just that but someone who studies Christian saints.

I also was raised by a mother who passed on to me many stories about my family, and she often folded into those stories tales of people’s faith.

And so, the stories of the saints that have gone before has always fascinated me.


But as I have read and prayed with the readings for tonight these past few weeks, my attention has been drawn to a particular group in the holy people of God – those who endure persecution for the name of Jesus Christ.

These past few months, my heart has ached as I have read about Christians being harassed, persecuted, and even murdered around the globe.

If you have paid attention, you would have read reports about Coptic Christians having their churches attacked during the recent unrest in Egypt.

Just the other week, four Coptic Christians were killed in a drive-by shooting as they left their church.

In Syria, ancient Christian communities find themselves caught in the crossfire in the midst of a civil war.

In early September, rebels assaulted the ancient Christian village of Maaloula, on whose outskirts sits the venerable Mar Thekla (Saint Thecla) monastery.

For me, the reality of the persecution of Christians came home with the news of the suicide bombing at All Saints Anglican Church in Peshawar, Pakistan that killed 127 Christians and wounding 170.

I noticed the news because the principal of Edwardes College, the Anglican school in Peshawar, is the Rev. Titus Pressler, someone I knew when we were both active in the Diocese of Massachusetts.

Although Titus Pressler was not harmed, many from the Edwardes College community were killed and wounded.


It is easy to label this violence as simply another chapter in a violent history of Muslim-Christian relations.

And it should be said that this violence does not represent all Muslims.

The perpetrators are extremists and radicals whom many Islamic leaders have condemned.

And we also can’t ignore that many Christians have become targets because of western, especially US, foreign policy that has become in some twisted way associated with Christianity.

The persecution of Christians is not in the end simply part of an inexorable conflict between religions or a clash of civilizations.

On a deeper level, it is a sign of the sinful, unjust nature of the world around us.

The sin of this world will always be with us as Christians.

Indeed, Jesus teaches that those who follow him in this world will constantly be exposed to sin and injustice, even to the point of death.


We hear this in the Beatitudes.

Recently, scholars have argued that the first four beatitudes should not be understood as qualities to aspire to.

The poor in spirit are not just the poor, but those so deprived that they are on the point of giving up.

It is among the utterly disposed that the kingdom of God will arrive; among them will God’s will be fully expressed.

Those who mourn are those who have no reason for rejoicing in this life; only God now can offer them comfort.

The word that we have as meek in the third beatitude is best translated as the humiliated, the oppressed, the powerless.

And to inherit the earth here means that when God establishes his reign, the powerless will get what they have not had all along – the land, resources, abundance.

Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness are those who long for God to set things right; to reverse all the injustice of this world.

These are people who despair, who have no joy, who have no resources.

They wait for God to set things right; to act justly.


In looking at these four beatitudes, it should be clear that no one wants to live like this.

These are not virtues to aspire to.

People who live like this wait upon God’s kingdom to come and reverse the way of this world.

No one want to live like this, but Christians in Egypt, Syria, and Pakistan do.

The acts of violence that these Christians endure are a sign of sin in this world; a sign of the sin that the powerful allow.

Their hope is that God will reverse this suffering.


But not all have lived to see this reversal.

Indeed many have been martyred.

But to intentionally follow the way of Christ is to expose yourself to injustice, persecution, even death as a martyr.

This is what Jesus is getting at in the second half of the Beatitudes when he blesses the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers.

Those who posses the qualities of mercy, purity, and peace making are those committed to the justice of God that Christ proclaimed.

But the logic of pursuing the way of God’s justice for the disciple of Jesus, for the heirs of the prophets, can only lead to injustice.

“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” (Matt. 5:11-12)

If anything, to stand for the way of Jesus, to be his disciple, is to stand for God’s justice that will reverse all the perversions of the powerful in this world.

It is to stand against the sin that robs us of our humanity and that turns neighbors into enemies.


But, be ready.

For the powerful will not give up their power.

To follow the way of Jesus will expose you to harm.

And, so what about Christians that are being persecuted today?

This persecution is part of a conflict between western powers and some aspects of the Islamic world.

I think it is rooted in foreign policy and is a way of lashing out at the west.

There is sin and evil on all sides of that conflict and no party can claim absolute innocence.

And yet, Christians are dying in the very act of going to church.

In their home countries, they might be identified with the powerful west, but, what an irony, they themselves are powerless and vulnerable.

And in their vulnerability, they are like those gathered under the altar of the Lamb, like ones who have passed through the slaughter.

And in their suffering, those who survive are growing in faith.

A Roman Catholic nun has said this about the Syrian Christians who have had to flee their homes: “among the Syrian Christians, who are more and more vulnerable, there is a spiritual awakening, a renewed impetus in faith, prayer and interfaith closeness . . .we are finding a more dense, deep and unitive faith.”

Even in suffering, some Christians still pursue interfaith closeness, the hope of being reconciled to those that could easily be labeled an enemy.

Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called the children of God.


Imagine those who have been killed for the name of Jesus Christ in the past year gathered now in this chapel.

Imagine them sitting in the pew next to you; imagine them in the aisles and in the back; imagine them gathered around this altar.

You can see their scars, but they are also robed in white.

They hold palms in their hands; their tears have been wiped away.

Imagine them speaking.

What do they say?

What will you say to them?


These are saints; these are the people of God.

These are the ones who are poor in spirit; who might have nothing left to offer God but their hopelessness.

These are the ones who mourn and have no one to comfort them.

These are the meek; who are utterly powerless.

These are the ones who hunger and thirst for righteousness; who have found no justice in this world.


And Jesus says, the Lamb says, if you will be my disciple, you will enter in this way.

You will be with them.

If you will stand for justice, you will find no justice.

Yet you will stand with them; enduring injustice.

If you stand with them, you will not only stand with those caught in what could be labeled religious conflict.

If you stand with them, you will stand for a type of justice that will demand that violence, violence on all sides, ends.

This is what our own baptismal covenant means for us.

When we promise to be a disciple of Jesus Christ with the help of God, we are called to this kind of life.

If you stand with the persecuted, you will stand for God’s justice that demands the fair sharing of resources that the powerful around the world and in our own lands refuse to share.

You will stand for God’s justice that demands that no one dies by drone strikes, by gun shots on dark corners, by the slow grinding down of poverty.

If you walk in this way of God’s justice, you will find no justice, even as you demand it, until that day when God will wipe away the tears from the eyes of the faithful.

Rejoice and be glad, for your reward, for their reward, is great in heaven, in that place where justice reigns; where no one is ever harmed; where no one makes war anymore.


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