Blog – Page 112

At this entrance to the Church Year, we always hear words of Jesus calling us to be ready, even in the middle of the night, for Christ’s return. Jesus says today, I’m coming like a thief in the night (hardly a warm image). In the other two lectionary years, Jesus also says stay awake and read the signs in the earth and skies. I’m coming unexpectedly.

Advent, we say, is a time of practicing waiting for that unexpected time, that coming. “Come, Lord Jesus,” we pray.

But we’re past any time for waiting. Christ has already returned. The Second Coming is already here. And it’s you and me and all who bear Christ’s name.

Paul says that it’s time to live that way.

Today he sums that life up for us: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. . . . Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.”

And now is the time to live that way, Paul says. There’s no waiting. Now is the day, so live in the light. Put on the Lord Jesus Christ, he says, and live in love, now. Rejoice with those who rejoice, now. Weep with those who weep, now. Show hospitality to strangers, now. Wake up and live as the Christ you are, now.

This profoundly changes our Advent. And it’s not just Paul who does.

Advent means “coming.” If we truly heard the Advent Gospels we’d never think that meant waiting for Christ to come again. Because in the next two weeks John the Baptist is going to show up as he always does and call us to repentance and newness of life. He says that in Jesus the reign of God is already here.

That means our Advent prayer needs to be: come, Lord Jesus, in us. Right now. Cover us with yourself, your life, your love. Fill us with your Spirit. So that we can be the coming of Christ right now. Each of us one day will run out of days to serve in this life and will move to the life to come. But right now it’s daytime. Christ is already here. What are we waiting for?

Now, listen to Isaiah again and ask the same question.

“In days to come,” the prophet says, God’s mountain will be lifted up and all people will see it, flock to it. And God will teach all people the way of God’s reign. And everyone will convert their weapons of war into farming implements. They’ll stop making death and start growing life. They’ll stop teaching their children to fight and kill and start teaching them to nurture and love. All will walk in God’s light.

Well, these are those days to come. And you are God’s Christ, anointed to bear God’s mercy into your world. Why would you or I or anyone hear of swords being beaten into plowshares and say, “well, hopefully, some day.” Why do we persist in hearing everything Jesus teaches and saying, “wouldn’t that be nice? But it’s not realistic right now. Some day.”

There’s no “some day,” Paul says. It’s day right now. Even if no one else lives this way, he tells his Romans, you are to live peaceably with all. With everyone.

What are we waiting for? Jesus to return in the clouds and make peace, destroy weapons for us? He’s said that’s not how he operates. God-with-us comes to people and changes them from within, and so changes the world.

But we seem to always hope and wait for a different way of God.

Christians have killed more people in world history than any other group you can name. We’ve spent too much time waiting for Christ instead of being Christ.

The first disciples began the problem. After Jesus rose, they completely misunderstood the cross. They asked Jesus if now he was going to drive out the Romans, lead the rebellion, restore Israel. No, Jesus told them. They would be filled with the Spirit to go as Christ to all the world, vulnerable and loving witnesses. That’s the plan.

Why would we expect Jesus to do anything different now or in some future return? Jesus promised to return, and has. For 2,000 years people have been made into Christ and sent into the world to make peace. To bring mercy and love and grace. To destroy swords and guns, and end violence by living non-violent, passionate lives of peacemakers and love-bringers.

When the Church obsesses over a superhero Christ sailing in on the clouds to fix everything that we can’t be bothered to fix or change or heal, we act exactly as Christ and Paul tell us not to. We become children of the night, seeking power and control. We don’t see our personal lives as relevant to God’s plan of healing all things, and resist change. We start trying to dominate the world and protect our institutions instead of being a little yeast in a large batch of flour, a tiny seed in a massive field. And evil is done, again and again.

Let this be your Advent: pray, “Come to this world, Lord Jesus, in me.”

Night is over, and it’s the day. While you have breath, be the coming of Christ you are meant to be. When you pray “Come, Lord Jesus” that way, things will change.

Because when you and I and all who carry the name of Christ start living as Christ, putting on the Lord Jesus, draping ourselves with love and compassion and patience and hope and making peace in our hearts, in our families, in our world, then Isaiah’s vision would happen now. War would be over. Violence in our families would be done. Attacks in our streets would be a thing of the past. People of faith hating those who disagree with them would be ancient history. Hunger and poverty and oppression all would disappear. All this, Christ says, could be our world right now.

Wake up. It’s already morning, and you are what you’ve been waiting for. Now live it, with the Spirit’s grace, for the sake of all things. And for your sake, too.

In the name of Jesus. Amen

Life that Endures

November 24, 2022 By Vicar at Mount Olive

Jesus gives us bread that endures for eternal life, what are we doing with it to bring God’s reign?

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Day of Thanksgiving, Year C
Texts: Deuteronomy 26:1-11, John 6:25-35

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“What must we do to perform the works of God?”

This is the question Jesus is asked by a large group in the Gospel today after feeding all 5,000 of them earlier in the chapter. It is asked amidst a series of questions to Jesus as the crowd works to decipher the difference between perishing bread and the kind of bread that gives eternal life. This crowd, who already ate their fill of loaves, is confused because they are following their stomachs–not Jesus’s metaphor. We can quickly see that they are talking about two different things.

See, the bread that Jesus is speaking of is not the kind that literally fills our stomachs, but the kind that fills our lives and embraces what God seeks for our world. Bread that fills us in the form of connection, caring for one another, peace, justice, even literally feeding one another–these are things that sustain us and bring God’s reign. They are ways that we bring hope for a future of abundant life. This is not a quick fix that involves the perishing bread that the crowd seeks, but bread that endures, living in God’s reign.

The Israelites from Deuteronomy know this.

In the first reading, we hear the history of the Israelite people who were exiled to Egypt. People that were separated from their homes, were left seeking out God’s promises and a place where they can peacefully live.

This painful history is not forgotten because it impacts the way the Israelites moved around and experienced the world. It left them with a constant reminder of where they came from and to welcome those that resided among them because they were once strangers too. The people in the Gospel remember this too as they recount their time in the wilderness relying on God for mana. Trusting in God to guide them.

Yet, as we recount the history of the Jewish people, which is also ours, it feels complicated.

We live in a country where land that was seen as a refuge by those that colonized, was actually stolen from the indigenous people. Communities that were supposed to have peace were instead torn apart. Stories of war, death, and exile have been left out, leaving us seeking out what truly happened in our history.

Placing ourselves in the retelling of this story from Deuteronomy feels distressing because a lot of pain comes with it. Not to mention that the lives of people have become more intricately intertwined, leaving healing and restoration to feel distant. It makes one want to simply ask how the works of God are performed instead of seeking out what enduring healing is to the world. How can we be a part of the bread of life that Jesus talks about?

For starters, being in community and breaking bread together is one way.

Jesus says these words to a crowd gathered, not to a single person. Being here, not only in church, but with other people too. This is where Jesus reminds us that these pieces of our shattered histories, must be entered into and remembered with the uncomfortableness that comes with it.

So that we, with all of creation, can have hope for a life that abides with peace, justice, and love. That we embrace the bounty that God has given to everyone, creating a community that welcomes the stranger and gives thanksgiving for all that we share.

Which why Jesus comes to us with Bread today, offering life that endures.

This crowd in the Gospel wants to live whole and faithful lives, like you and me. They want to find fullness in the Triune God whether that means a simple meal or seeking out food that endures for a lifetime. But that is a complicated world to imagine living in when we see news reports of shootings, war, and the ever-present impacts of climate change.

A life that embraces the bread that Jesus is talking about is not a single miracle of feeding 5,000. It is a life that asks us to hold hope for the present, for the future, and to be part of its growth. To look back at our history and believe that there will be change and that we will be changed ourselves with it. This is the life that God calls us to, not just for the world to come, but the one there is here today. Do you dare to reach out for that kind of bread for the world?

A world where life endures is one where people are fed. Where hope is held for a sustainable Earth. Where people are not oppressed for their sexuality, gender identity, and race. Where people are not living in fear for their lives when going for a night out. Where painful histories are truly grieved and began to find healing. Can you imagine what our world would be like?

Jesus tells us today that this bread is here and present for all.

Sometimes it might be literal bread, but other times this bread takes different forms: welcoming in the stranger, advocating for justice, and caring for the neighbor. Finding this life does not mean “performing the works of God” properly or seeing the specific “signs that God is going to give,” as the crowd around Jesus asks.

But it has everything to do with embracing God’s promises and hope for the world. Everything to do with loving the neighbor, and knowing that you were once a stranger too. As we enter into Thanksgiving at our tables today and the celebration of the Eucharist, know that God reaches out to you with bread. The kind that brings life. All this is asked of you is an openness to trust and be transformed by the Triune God who is already there, working inside of you.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.