3 Pentecost

 June 29, 2025

 

1 Kings 19.15-16,19-21; Galatians 5.1,13-25; .Luke 9:51-62

 

+ This past week I started the process of doing something I am not excited to do:

 

I started to revise my Will.

 

I had not realized that my Will was out of date until I actually started going through it.

 

My last revision of my Will was in 2012.

 

That was a long time ago.

 

And my life has changed considerably since then.

 

It was a wake-up call when I realize that four people mentioned in my will are no longer alive, and that two bequests I made in that Will are to places that are no longer operational.

 

That is probably a sign that you should revise your Will

 

And it’s a good reminder for everyone to so on a regular basis.

 

And, when doing so, to consider our brand-new Endowment Fund in your estate planning.

 

It’s not fun to think about things like Wills and funeral arrangements and the final disposition of one’s material goods.

 

And if you’re anything like me—and I hope you’re not—you can easily find yourself obsessing over these things a bit.

 

It’s a control freak thing.

 

I’m aware of it.

 

But being that kind of person means I really have issues with what Jesus is telling the young man in our Gospel reading for today.

 

We hear Jesus say, Let the dead bury their own dead.

 

What?

It’s an unusual statement.  

 

It almost boggles the mind when you think about it.

 

And yet….there is beautiful poetry in that phrase.

 

We hear this saying of Jesus referenced occasionally in our secular society.

 

It conveys a sense of resignation and putting behind oneself insignificant aspects of our lives.

 

Still, it is a strange image to wrap our minds around.

Let the dead bury their own dead.

What could Jesus possibly mean by this reference?

Does it means we shouldn’t bury our loved ones?

 

No. This statement from him, as always, has a deeper meaning—and really only starts to make sense when we put it in the context of his time and who his followers were.

 

When we find this man talking about having to go and bury his father, and Jesus’ response of “let the dead bury their own dead,” we might instantly think that Jesus is being callous.  

 

It would seem, at least from our modern perspective, that this man is mourning, having just lost his father.

 

The fact is, his father actually probably died a year or more before.  

 

What happened in the Jewish culture at that time is that when a person died, they were anointed, wrapped in a cloth shroud and placed in a tomb.

 

There would have been an actually formal burial rite at that times.

 

And of course, Jesus himself would later be buried exactly like this.

 

This initial tomb burial was actually a temporary interment.

 

They were probably placed on a stone shelf near the entrance of the tomb.

 

About a year or so after their death, the family gathered again at which time the tomb was re-opened.

 

By that time, the body would, of course,  have been reduced to bones.

 

The bones would then be collected, placed in a small stone box and buried with the other relatives, probably further back in the tomb.

 

A remnant of this tradition still exists in Judaism, when, on the first anniversary of the death of a loved one, the family often gathers to unveil the gravestone in the cemetery.

 

There’s a wonderful liturgy in the New Zealand Prayer Book that I’ve used many times for the blessing and unveiling of a gravestone.

 

Which I think a very cool tradition personally. 

So, when we encounter this man in today’s Gospel, we are not necessarily finding a man mourning his recently deceased father.

 

What we are actually finding is a man who is waiting to go to the tomb where his father’s bones now lie so he can bury the bones.

 

When we see it from this perspective, we can understand why Jesus makes such a seemingly strange comment—and we realize it isn’t quite the callous comment we thought it was.  

 

As far as Jesus is concerned, the father has been buried.

 

Whatever this man does is merely an excuse to not go out and proclaim the kingdom of God, as Jesus commands him to do.

Now to be fair to the man, he could just be making an excuse, which really under any other circumstances, would have been a perfectly valid excuse.

 

Or he could really have felt that his duty as his father’s son took precedence over this calling from Jesus.

 

Certainly, in Jewish culture, this would be an acceptable way of living out the commandment of respecting one’s parents.

 

It doesn’t seem as though he doesn’t want to follow Jesus or proclaim the Kingdom.

 

He doesn’t flat-out say no.

 

He simply says, not now.

 

In a sense, he is given the choice between the dead and dried bones of his father or the living Jesus who stands before him.

Jesus’ response, which may sound strange to our modern, Western ears, is actually a very clear statement to this man.

 

He is saying, in a sense: “You are attached to these bones.

 

Don’t worry about bones.

 

Break your attachment, follow me, proclaim the goodness and love of God and you will have life.

 

Follow me

 

TODAY.

 

NOW.

 

How many times have we been in the same place in our lives?

 

How many times have we looked for excuses to get out of following Jesus, at least right now?

 

We all have our own “bones” that we feel we must bury before we can go and proclaim the Kingdom of God in our midst by following Jesus.

 

We all have our own attachments that we simply cannot break so we can go forward unhindered to follow and to serve.

 

And they’re easy to find.

 

It’s easy to be led astray by attachments—to let these attachments fill our lives and give us a false sense of fulfillment.

 

It is easy for us to despair when the bad things of life happen to us.

 

Despite bad things in the world or in our own lives, we as Christians just need to remember: the kingdom of God still needs to be proclaimed.

 

Now.

 

And not later. Not after everything has been restored. Not when everything is good and right in the world.

 

Not after we have calmed down.

 

The Kingdom needs to be proclaimed NOW.

 

Now.

 

Even in the midst of chaos.  

 

Even when those crappy things happen, we still need to follow Jesus.

 

We proclaim the Kingdom of God by standing up and speaking out against those forces that seek to undermine basic human dignity.

 

We proclaim the Kingdom of God by living out our Baptismal Covenant in this world.

 

We proclaim the Kingdom of God by loving God and loving others—loving people enough to stand up for their rights, their health, their worth. Their dignity.

 

Let us remember that this is not some sweet, nice, gentle suggestion from Jesus.  

 

It is a command from him.

“Let the dead bury their own dead. But as for you, go, and proclaim the kingdom of God.”

We proclaim the kingdom, as we all know, by loving God and loving each other.

 

You can’t proclaim the kingdom—you can’t love—when you are busy obsessing about the dead, loveless things of your life.

 

You’re not proclaiming the Kingdom when you complain about things, but then don’t DO anything about them.

 

We who are following Jesus have all put our hands to the plow.

 

We put our hands to that plow when were baptized, when we set out on that path of following Jesus.

 

Now, with our hands on that plow, let us not look back.

 

Let us not be led astray by the attachments we have in this life that lead us wandering about aimlessly.

 

Let us not be led astray by our anger.

 

But, let us focus.

 

Let us look forward.  

 

Let us push on.

 

Let us proclaim by word and example the love we have for God and one another.  

 

And when we do, we are doing exactly what Jesus commands us to do.

 

Now is the time.  

 

Stand up.

 

Speak out.

 

Proclaim that Kingdom.

 

And make it a reality in our midst.

 

Now.

 

Let us pray.

 

Holy God, you are a God of justice; send your Spirit as a fire into our hearts and into our mouths that we may speak out against injustice in this world. And in doing so, let us know that we are proclaiming your Kingdom. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trinity Sunday

 

June 15, 2025

 

 

+ Last Wednesday, I observed the 21^st anniversary of my ordination to the Priesthood.

 

My priesthood is now of legal drinking age, if it drank.

 

(It, like me, doesn’t)

 

And on Friday, with my ordination anniversary still fresh in my mind, I was reminded of something:

 

Early in my training for the Priesthood, I was cautioned to avoid “lone wolf” ministry, advice I very often blatantly ignored.

 

Knowing when or even how to ask for help when I need it has often been difficult for me.

 

An example of my “lone wolf” tendencies happened about a year ago when I thought I could simply move one of my heavy plastic window-well covers by myself to cut a weed that had grown inside the window-well.

 

I got the cover off without too much trouble but when I tried to put it back I ended up shattering it (in retrospect I realize it was definitely a two person job).

 

Well, lesson learned.

 

On Friday, I ended up asking our very loyal deacon, John, if he could help his chronically  “lone wolf” priest on a rainy day to pick up and install a new window-well cover.

 

Which he did.

 

And I am grateful.

 

Because, well, I couldn’t have done it on my own.

 

And in gratitude for that, I’m preaching on Trinity Sunday instead of him.

 

Usually, at least for the last five years or so, I let Deacon John preach on this Sunday, which he does well.

 

But, today, I will do it.

 

*sigh*

 

So, why my apprehension about the Trinity?

 

Well. . . when all is said and done, at the end of the day, I can say this about myself:

 

I am don’t know how orthodox I am for people.  

 

Let’s face it.

 

I’m pretty liberal.

 

And the accusation of “heretic” has been tossed in my direction more than once.

 

Probably because, as you all know I am unashamed universalist.

 

I do believe that, eventually, we will all be together with Christ in heaven.

 

I really do believe that.

 

I do not believe in an eternal hell.

 

But despite all of that, I am actually a pretty “orthodox” priest.

 

I am pretty cut and dry on the other stuff.

 

I really do believe Jesus is the Son of God.

 

I really do believe he’s the Word of God Incarnate.

 

I believe prayer does make a difference in this world.

 

I believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Bread and Wine of the Eucharist.

 

And let’s not get into my view of Mary and the saints.

 

And then, there’s the Trinity.

 

Sigh.

 

The Trinity.

 

Now, I taught Systematic Theology for 10 years at the University of Mary

 

I still teach Religion on a regular basis.

 

Every time I try to explain it, I find myself nudging over into some kind of heresy.

 

Am I doing a Modalist definition?

 

Or am I guilty of Partialism?

 

So, to avoid anyone getting that ugly “heretic” accusation lobbed at me. I’m not even going to attempt it today.

 

After all, I’m just a priest.

 

I’m not a theologian, nor have I ever claimed to be one.

 

Most of us, let’s face it, don’t give the doctrine of the Trinity a lot of thought.

 

Like you, I really don’t lost a lot of sleep over it.

 

I approach this Sunday and this doctrine of the Trinity as I approach any similar situation, like Christmas or Easter or, as we celebrated last Sunday, the Holy Spirit and Pentecost.

 

It’s a mystery.

 

And I love the mystery of our faith.

 

And let me tell  you, there is nothing more mysterious than the Trinity.

 

God as Three-in-One—God as Father or Parent or Creator, God as Son or Redeemer and God as Spirit or Sanctifier.

 

I know, I know.

 

It’s difficult to wrap our minds around this concept of God.

 

The questions we priests regularly get is: how can God be three and yet one?

 

How can we, in all honesty, say that we believe in one God when we worship God as three?

 

Certainly our Jewish and  Muslim brothers and sisters ask that very important question of us:

 

My answer is: I don’t know.

 

Whole Church councils have debated the issue of the Trinity throughout history.

 

The Church actually has split at times over its interpretation of what exactly this Trinity is.

 

We can debate it all we want this morning.

 

We can talk what is orthodox or right-thinking about the Trinity all we want.

 

But the fact remains that unless we have experienced God in a real and somewhat personal way, none of this talk to the Trinity is really going to matter, ultimately.

 

And there is the key to everything this Sunday is about.

 

We can go on and on about theology and philosophy and all manner of thoughts about God, but ultimately what matters is how we interact with our God.

 

How is our relationship with God and with each other deepened and made more real by this one God?

 

That’s what Jesus tells us again and again.

 

Just love God.

 

In scripture we don’t find people worrying too much about whether they are committing a heresy or not in trying to describe God.

 

What do we find in scripture?

 

We find a constant striving toward a more personal and closer relationship with God.

 

This is our primary responsibility: our relationship with God.

 

How can all this talk about God—how can this thinking about God—then deepen our relationship with God?

 

Our goal is not to understand God: we will never understand God.

 

God is not some Rubik’s Cube or a puzzle that has to be solved.

 

Our goal is to know God. In our hearts. Passionately.    

 

Our goal is to love God.

 

Our goal is to try to experience God as God wishes to be experienced by us.

 

Because God does know us.

 

God does love us.

 

And, more likely than not, we have actually experienced our God in more than one way more than once in our lives.

 

I personally have experienced God in what I would call a tri-personal kind of way (I don’t know what heresy that might be, but I really don’t care)

 

I personally have experienced God as a loving and caring parent, especially when I think about those times when I have felt marginalized by people or the Church or society or by friends and colleagues.

 

I have also known Jesus as my redeemer—as One who, in Jesus, has come to me where I am, as Jesus who suffered in a body and who, in turn, knows my suffering because this One also has suffered as well.

 

And this One has promised that I too can be, like Jesus, a child of this God who is my—and our—Parent.  

 

I have been able to take comfort in the fact that God is not some distant deity who could not comprehend what I have gone through in my life and in this limited, mortal body.

 

In Jesus, God knows what it was to be limited by our bodies.

 

There is something wonderful and holy in that realization.

 

And I have known the healing and renewal of the Spirit of God of my life.

 

If that’s the Trinity—and certainly that’s the Trinity I have experienced in my life—then, it’s wonderful!

 

If all we do is ponder and argue and debate God and God’s nature, we’ve already thrown in the towel.

 

And we are defeating the work of God in this world.  

 

But if we simply love God and strive to experience God through prayer  and worship and contemplation, that is our best bet.

 

No matter what the theologians argue about, no matter what those supposedly learned teachers proclaim, ultimately, our understanding of God needs to be based on our own experience to some extent.

 

Yes, God is beyond our understanding.

 

Yes, God is mysterious and amazing and incredible.

 

But God does not have to be a frustrating aspect of our faith.

 

Our experience of God should rather widen and expand our faith life and in our understanding and experience of God and, in turn, of each other.

 

And that’s where I’m going to leave the whole issue of the Trinity.

 

 

Ok. I’ll say one more thing about the Trinity.

 

Every year, on Trinity Sunday, I place the Andrei Rubelev’s famous icon of the Trinity in the nave

In it you’ll find three angels seated at a table.

 

According to some theological interpretations, these three Angels represent the three Persons of the Trinity.

 

In the icon we can see that all three Angels are shown as equals to each other.

 

In a sense, this icon is able to show in a very clear and straightforward way what all our weighty, intellectual theologies do not.

 

What I especially love about the image is that, in showing the three angels seated around the table, you’ll notice that there is one space at the table left open.

 

That is the space for you.

 

In a sense, we are, in this icon, being invited to the table to join with God.

 

We are being invited to join into the work of God.

 

And I think that is why this icon is so important to me.

 

It simply allows me to come to the table and BE with God.

 

It allows me to sit there and be one with God.

 

No need to wrestle, or debate,  or doubt God.

 

And we realize, certainly in our own life here at St. Stephen’s, that, like this ikon, God is still calling to us to be at the table with God.

 

Here, at this altar, we find God, inviting us forward.

 

And from this table, at which we feast with God, we go out to do the ministries we are all called to do.

 

Today, as we ponder God—as we consider how God has worked in our lives in many ways— and who God is in our lives, let us remember how amazing God is in the ways God is revealed to us.

 

God cannot be limited or quantified or reduced.

 

God can only be experienced.

 

And adored.

 

And pondered.

 

God can only be shared with others as we share love with each other.

 

So, let us sit down at that table.

 

Let us bring our doubts and uncertainties with us.

 

And let us leave them there at the table.

 

Let us let God be God.

 

When we do that—when we live out and share our loving God with others—then we are joining with the amazing and mysterious work of God who is here with us, loving us with a love deeper than any love we have ever known before.

 

 

 

 

Pentecost

 

June 8, 2025

 Acts 2.1-21

 

+ This past week Deacon Suzanne and I met to discuss a few things, and our conversation turned to theology.

 

We discussed some interesting things regarding the nature of God, the Trinity.

 

And the Holy Spirit.

 

It’s interesting to talk to someone else about these things, because it helps put a needed perspective on one’s own views and beliefs.

 

The Holy Spirit does not usually get a whole lot of conversation.

 

But today, it’s all about the Holy Spirit.

 

As it should. 

 

Yes, we are of course celebrating Pentecost today.

 

It’s a very important day in the life of the Church.

 

Today is essentially the “birthday” of the Church.

 

But, in Judaism, the feast of Shavuot was just celebrated last week.

 

Shavuot is a wonderful and important Jewish feast.

 

It is now 50 days since Passover.

 

The word Shavuot is Hebrew for “weeks.”

 

The belief is that, after fifty days of traveling after leaving Egypt, the nation of Israel now has finally arrived at Mount Sinai.

 

And on Shavuot, the Torah, the “Law,” the 10 Commandments were delivered to them by Moses.

 

So, in a very real sense, this is an important day not just for Judaism, but for us as well.

The Torah, the 10 Commandments, are important to us too.

 

Our feast of Pentecost is very similar in many ways. 

 

It now 50 days after Easter.

 

The word “Pentecost” refers to the Greek word for 50.

 

And it’s connection with Shavuot is pretty clear.

 

Shavuot is this  feast on which the early Jews offered to God the first fruits of their harvests.

 

And that is particularly meaningful to us Christians and what we celebrate on this day of Pentecost.

 

It is meaningful that the Holy Spirit came among us on the feast of Shavuot in which the first fruits were offered to God.

 

After all, those first Christians who gathered in that upper room in our reading this morning from Acts, were truly the first fruits of the Church.

 

And let’s not forget that those first Christians were also Jews, gathering to celebrate the festival of Shavuot.

 

God chose to send the Spirit on those first followers of Jesus on just the right day.

 

Still, like nuclear power or electricity, God’s Spirit is sometimes a hard thing for us to grasp and understand. 

 

The Spirit can be elusive and strange and sometimes we might have a hard time wrapping our minds around the Spirit.

 

 In a sense what happens with the Descent of God’s Spirit upon us is the fact that we now have the potential to be prophets ourselves.

 

The same Spirit which spoke to Ezekiel in our reading this morning, which spoke to Isaiah, which spoke to Jeremiah, which spoke to Moses, which spoke through Jesus, also can now speak to us and be revealed to us just as it spoke and was revealed to those prophets from the Hebrew scriptures and through Jesus.

 

That is who the Spirit is in our midst.

 

The Spirit we celebrate today—and hopefully every day—and in our lives is truly the spirit of the God that came to us and continues to be with us.

 

It is through this Spirit that we come to know God in ways we might never have before.

 

God’s Spirit comes to us wherever we may be in our lives—in any situation or frustration.

 

God’s Spirit is with us, as Jesus promised, always.

 

Always.

 

For those of us who want to grasp these experiences—who want to have proof of them—the Spirit doesn’t fit well into the plan.

 

We can’t grasp the Spirit.

 

We can’t make the Spirit do what we want it to do.

 

In that way, the Spirit truly is like the Wind that came rushing upon those first disciples.

 

So, how do we know how the Spirit is working in our lives?

 

Well, as Jesus said, we know the tree by its fruit.

 

In our case, we know the Spirit best through the fruits God’s Spirit gives us.

 

Remember what the feast of Pentecost originally was?

 

It was the Jewish feast on which the first fruits were offered to God.

 

On the feast of Pentecost, we celebrate the fruits the Spirit of God gives to us and we can be thankful for them, and, most importantly, share them in turn with those around us.

 

The Spirit comes to us and manifests itself to us in the fruits given to us by the Spirit.

 

We often hear about Pentecostals—those Christians who have been born (or baptized) in the Spirit.

 

They are the ones who speak in tongues and prophesy and have words of knowledge or raise their hands in joyful praise—all those things we good Episcopalians find a bit disconcerting.

 

These Pentecostals—as strange as we might find these practices—really do have a lot to teach the rest of us Christians about the workings of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

 

I remember the first time I ever attended a Pentecostal church.

 

Rather than being attracted to that way of worship, I was actually turned off.

 

Partly my reason for doing so, is that by that time in my life I had, in fact experienced the Spirit very profoundly in my life.

 

For me, the Spirit of God came to me not in a noisy, raucous way, but rather in a quiet, though just as intense, way.

 

The Sprit of God as I have experienced it has never been a “raining down” so to speak, but rather a “welling up from within.”

 

The fruits of the Spirit for me have been things such as an overwhelming joy in my life.

 

When the Spirit is near, I feel clear-headed and, to put it simply, I simply feel happy.

 

Or, in the midst of what seems like an unbreakable dark grief, there is suddenly a real and potent sense of hope and light.

 

When the future seems bleak and ugly, the Spirit can come in and make everything worth living again.

 

We experience God’s Spirit whenever we feel joy or hope.

 

As Jesus says in today’s Gospel, the Spirit of God is a Spirit of Truth.

 

We experience God’s Spirit when we strive for truth in this world, when truth comes to us.

 

In turn, we are far from God’s Spirit when we let bitterness and anger and frustration lead the way.

 

We frustrate God’s Spirit when we grumble and mumble about each other and hinder the ministries of others in our church, when we let our own agendas win out over those who are trying also to do something to increase God’s Kingdom in our midst.

 

We deny the Spirit when we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.

 

No doubt everyone here this morning has felt God’s Spirit in some way, although we might not have readily recognized that experience as God’s Spirit.

 

But our job, as Christians, is to allow those fruits of the Spirit to flourish and grow.

 

For us, we let the Spirit of God flourish when we continue to strive for truth and justice, when stand up against the dark forces of this world.

 

The Spirit of God compels us again and again to stand up and to be defiant against the dark forces of this world!

 

That dynamic and life-giving presence of the Spirit of God speaks loudly to us.

 

Certainly we see the Holy Spirit at work in the ministries we do, in the love we share with others, with the truth we proclaim as Christians, even in the face of opposition.

 

We experience this Spirit of truth when we stand up against injustice, wherever it may be.

 

This is how God’s Spirit comes to us.

 

The Spirit does not always tear open the ceiling and force its way into our lives.

 

The Spirit rather comes to us just when we need the Spirit to come to us.

 

Though, often the Spirit comes to us as fire—an all-consuming fire that burns way all anger and hatred and fear and pettiness and nagging and all the other negative, dead chaff we carry within us.

 

So, this week, in the glow of the Pentecost light, in the Shavuot glow with the Law written deep in our hearts, let us look for the gifts of the Spirit in our lives and in those around us.

 

Let us open ourselves to God’s Spirit and let it flow through us like a caressing wind and burn through us like a purifying fire.

 

And let us remember the true message of the Spirit to all of us.

 

Whenever it seems like God is distant or nonexistent, that is when God might possibly be closest of all, dwelling within us, being breathed unto us as with those first disciples.

 

On these feasts of Shavuot and Pentecost—these feasts of the fruits of God—these feasts of the fire of God—let us give thanks for this God who never leaves us, who never stops loving us, but who comes to us again and again in mercy and in truth.