Peace that Passes Understanding

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. -- Philippians 4:4-6

This was one of the lessons appointed for this morning, in addition to the story of the golden calf and the wedding feast. In my sermon, I pointed out that Paul's letter to the church at Philippi was written from his own prison cell to a church that was both low on financial resources and in the midst of a land that was occupied by Roman legions. It is hardly a call to "find a happy place" and disengage from the world about them. Rather, it is a promise that if we rejoice in God's grace in our lives and pray for that which we need, God's peace will guard our hearts and minds. In other words, the Philippian Prescription is Praise + Prayers = Peace.

With the stock market in free-fall, wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, an utter lack of confidence in either congress or the current occupant of the White House, and a political campaign climate steeped in fear, the need for "peace of God, which surpasses all understanding" can hardly be denied. Yet as flawed, sinful human beings, we more often than not succumb to the temptation to shrink back, to protect ourselves, and to rely on and protect our own resources and forget about the grace and peace of God that has been with us in the past. We choose the golden calf over the Godly celebration to which we have been invited. We're often too busy saving ourselves to hear the voice of our Savior calling to us.

As conflict and fear rage around us, it would be well for all of us to recall that it is in such an environment that God continues to call us to the wedding feast, the great heavenly banquet in which God is the host. We are reminded of that invitation at the Eucharist each week. May we recall who we are and Whose we are as Children of God and rest in the peace which passes understanding.

Of Thresholds and Welcomes

Fr. Jake's blog always makes me think. A prime example is his latest post, discussing a book by Sara Miles entitled Take This Bread. While this is obviously yet one more book that I need to add to my "to read" stack (and actually get to reading it!), it also brings to mind a tension in my own life which challenges me. Sara's initial moment of conversion was when she received the Eucharist at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco, California. Having grown up in the Diocese of California, I know St. Gregory's is a decidedly non-traditional Episcopal church. However, the non-traditional part of this story for me was that Sara was both offered and received the Eucharist prior to being baptized, which is both a rubrical and canonical no-no in the Episcopal Church. Not that it isn't done, it just isn't supposed to be done! Yet, this non-rubrical, non-canonical reception of the Eucharist was the occasion for a person's conversion.

Now I'm not planning on sparking a conversation about who should and should not receive the Eucharist (unless someone would like to do so). However, the tension this brings up in me is that I am, by personality, a rule-keeper. I don't generally break the rules and am acutely uncomfortable in the current ecclesiastical environment where some people and congregations seem to think they can do their own thing in a whole variety of areas (ecclesiastical, theological, liturgical, etc...) and yet remain part of the Body of Christ. On the other hand, I'm living, preaching, and pastoring in a church with many, many rules and lots of people who seem to like the letter of the law far better than the spirit of Christ. I guess the question for me is, how can we maintain some sort of identity, some sort of boundaries, and yet make those boundaries porous enough that they don't become high walls that close people out?

I want the church to be a place of conversation. I want the Eucharist to be an instrument of conversion. I also want Baptism to matter and the basic creeds and formularies of our faith to mean something and not just be window dressing or frosting on the cake. Perhaps I'm both too ancient and too future and uncomfortable with both!

Risen Lord, be known to us

As I watch the various bloggers and their responders discuss the fact that the Archbishop of Canterbury will be visiting with the Episcopal Church's House of Bishops in September, it strikes me that I and my fellow clergy continue to be burdened by strife in the wider church. With e-mailed news releases, blogs, and a host of other information outlets available online, it is very easy to get sucked into a maelstrom of despair regarding the current state of the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion.

Yet, I must keep reminding myself, the things going on at the highest levels of both the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion are not the whole story, not even close. Thousands of churches continue to proclaim the Kingdom of God in word and deed, thousands pulse with resurrection life, and thousands of my fellow clergy continue to celebrate the Eucharist week after week, month after month, year after year. By God's grace, I am not thinking about the current conflicts in the wider church when I stand at the altar and begin "The Lord be with you...".

It is wise for me and my fellow clergy to recall, as we read of the encounter on the road to Emmaus between Jesus and two disciples, and that Jesus was known to them in the breaking of the bread, that ultimately we are simply called to faithfulness in Word and Sacrament and, by the grace of God, the rest will take care of itself.