The Kingdom of God in Our Midst

This sermon was preached Maundy Thursday evening at St. Michael's, Raleigh.

This month my Dad celebrated his 90th birthday.  We had a great celebration for him!  There was a family Eucharist, a reception for his family and friends from his retirement community, church, and General Electric, where he worked for 40 years, and a family dinner.  I put together a power point presentation with pictures of his life that looped continuously at the reception.  It was moving to see the old photos, to remember the events of his life and of our family.

Tonight, too, is a night to remember.  The apostle Paul tells us in his first letter to the Corinthians that on this night Jesus took the bread and the cup of wine, said they were his body and blood, and told his disciples to do this in remembrance of him.

Memory is essential to our faith.  It is all too easy to forget who we are, whose we are, amid the seemingly endless demands of our lives and the temptations of the world.  Remembering the mighty acts of God, remembering Christ’s death and resurrection, reveals to us who we are – the people of God dwelling in the Kingdom of God.

Each time we celebrate the Eucharist we remember Christ’s Last Supper; we remember how Jesus offered the bread and the wine, his body and blood to deliver us from the power of sin and death.  Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross initiates the Kingdom of God on earth and in our lives.  According to the Russian Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann, each celebration of the Eucharist manifests the kingdom of God whether we are in a beautiful church like St. Michael’s or in a hovel in the wilderness.

 All too often we think of the kingdom of God as an other-worldly reality for the next life, but the kingdom of God through Christ is a past, present, and future reality in the world and in our lives.  Each time we participate in the Eucharist we recall our true nature and the true nature of the world.  The priest proclaims this reality to us immediately after the climactic height of the liturgy - the breaking of the bread.  She or he says, “The gifts of God for the people of God.” This is always one of the most moving moments of the service for me.  The phrase in Latin is “Sancta Sanctis,” literally, “holy things for holy people.”  Theologians over the centuries have battled over how or when the bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ.  Ultimately though more important, as Schmemann says, is not any supposed explanation but the revelation in and through the Eucharist of the sacramental, the God-infused reality of our lives and of all creation.  We catch glimpses of this reality, of the reality of the kingdom of God not only manifested in and through the bread and the wine, but also in and through the members of Christ’s body, in our very own lives.

 We see it in the twenty-three adults and young people who will go to Belize this Sunday to rehab the Holy Cross Anglican School’s sagging cafeteria floor, to apply reflective paint to cool the often 90 degree classrooms, to help build an open air classroom, and to provide an Easter Week Vacation Bible School for the vacationing Holy Cross children.  We realize it when we serve those in need through Step Up, Wake Relief, the Episcopal Farmworkers Ministry, Meals on Wheels, Wake Interfaith Hospitality Network, Safe Child, Backpack Buddies, Interact, PLM Families Together, Band Together, the Interfaith Food Shuttle and other social service organizations in our community.  We find the kingdom in our church members who serve on our altar guild, our children and adult education and youth ministries, community and global missions committees, acolytes, ushers, ECW, choir, the Vestry, and a host of other St. Michael’s ministries.  We manifest the kingdom when we say a kind word to a stranger, help someone in need, pray to the Lord, study the scriptures, write a pledge check to the church, take time during a busy day to tell our spouse, our children, our parent that we love them.  The kingdom of God is a present reality that is all around us if we but have eyes to see and ears to hear!

But this is not to say that we have fully realized the kingdom of God in our lives.  The apostle Paul said it well in his letter to the Philippians when he wrote, “I press on to make [the resurrection from the dead] my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own” (3:12 NRSV).  Although Christ Jesus had made Paul “his own,” Paul pressed on to make the full reality of the kingdom of God, the resurrection from the dead, his own.

The Eucharist not only manifests the kingdom of God in the world and in our lives, but it also shines the light of God in our hearts revealing where we have strayed from the Lord.  We confess our sins after we hear the Word of God in Scripture, because the Word reminds us how we have forgotten the Lord, how we have forgotten who we are in our deepest, truest sense.  But it is here we also feel the love of God the Father who forgives our sins and welcomes us with open arms to the banquet table of his Son in and through the power of the Holy Spirit.  Truly we are a pilgrim people, a work in progress, a people being transformed in and through the grace of God, in and through the Kingdom in our midst.

The Holy Eucharist, the manifestation of the kingdom of God, finally is a pouring out of the love of God in and through the gift of Christ’s body and blood, and a pouring out of ourselves, of our souls and bodies in our lives offered to the Lord.  On this timeless night, in this timeless moment, we remember the mighty acts of God, we encounter the One who died and rose for us, and we realize the kingdom of God in our lives and in our world.

Living Stones

A sermon preached at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, Haw River NC on their honoring my parents May and Tom Gibson's service.

 November 14, 2010

Luke 21:5-19

When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, Jesus said, "As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down."
They asked him, "Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?" And he said, "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, `I am he!' and, `The time is near!' Do not go after them.
"When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately." Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.
"But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."

          My wife Cindy and I have been renovating our kitchen.  We live in a split level house built in 1968.  Other than cosmetics, such as paint and new vinyl, nothing had been done to the kitchen since the house was built.  The first step was totally gutting it.  The workmen took everything!  Cabinets, paneling, insulation!  We took it down to the studs!  This week the cabinet maker installed the new cabinets.  That was very exciting!  When the truck pulled up in front of our house, Cindy looked at me with a big smile on her face and exclaimed, “The new cabinets are here!”  This process, as you can imagine, though, has not always been exciting!  After the twenty-third take out dinner, Cindy glumly said she thought she would never get tired of eating out.  The primer smell almost drove us out even though we picked one with a low odor.   Dust, dirt and disorder have filled every square inch of our house despite our best efforts to keep it clean and maintain some semblance of order.  The process of tearing down and rebuilding is never easy.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus foretells the destruction of the Temple.  The Temple had stood for almost 500 years.  The Babylonians destroyed it in 587 BC.   The Judeans rebuilt the Temple in 516 BC.  Herod the Great began a massive renovation and expansion in 19 BC.   He transformed the Temple into one of the wonders of the ancient world.  In order to expand the Temple precinct, Herod built the Temple Mount, one of whose retaining walls is the famous Wailing Wall where Jews pray to this day.  The new Temple Mount dominated the city of Jerusalem.  Tunnels were built from the street level to the top of the mount.  Jesus and countless pilgrims emerged from these tunnels onto the sprawling Court of the Gentiles surrounded on three sides by broad colonnaded porticos with the Temple shining in the distance.  Herod imported white marble for the Temple itself.  The marble gleamed compared to the local limestone used for Jerusalem’s other buildings.  It truly was, as the Gospel says, adorned with beautiful stones.   The Temple was an awe inspiring sight!  All of this would be destroyed approximately 40 years after Jesus’ death when the Romans conquered Jerusalem in 70 AD.   The destruction of the Temple was devastating.  The Temple and its sacrificial system had been the center of Jewish life.

Out of the Temple’s destruction emerged two new faiths: rabbinic Judaism, centered on the Torah and the Law, and Christianity, centered on the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Neither would have emerged the way it did without the destruction of the Temple as horrible as it was.   While today we often think of the building as the church, the community of believers, the body of Christ itself, for early Christians was the church, the Temple of our Lord.  Etymologically, the word “church” comes from the Greek word, kuriakon, which simply means “the Lord’s.”  A building was only called a church in the second century AD when the number of Christians grew to the point they needed buildings specifically for their worship.  The church at first met in people’s homes.  In truth, you and I are the church, the body of Christ.  A building is important for our common life together.   You have done a great job, St. Andrew’s, improving your grounds and the building.  It has never looked so good!  But buildings and grounds are only tools for the faith community.  St. Peter wrote in his first letter, “Come to [Jesus], a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God's sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 2.4-5).  Founded on the rock that is Jesus Christ, we Christians are the living stones of his spiritual house.  We are the Temple of Jesus Christ.  Our service to our Lord and to one another is our spiritual sacrifice to God.

I am thankful to be with you today to honor my parents’ service to St. Andrew’s.  When I talked to my dad this week, he said he was embarrassed the church was making a fuss.  My mom and dad did not seek recognition.  They were simply faithful servants.  As long as I can remember, they served Christ first at Christ Church, Roanoke, Virginia, where my brother Pete and I grew up, and then here at St. Andrew’s.  I always thought of my parents as such faithful servants of Christ that I was a little shocked to learn they did not attend church after they first moved to Roanoke!  I cannot remember a time growing up that Dad was not a lay reader or a member of the vestry.  He worked around St. Andrew’s, doing odd jobs fixing, wiring, and making Brunswick stew.  Being a good Episcopalian, he drank some beer while he was making that stew, too.  My mother sang in the choir, served as the church’s treasurer, participated in the ECW, and worked with outreach activities.  She was always a cheerful support for a friend in need.  My parents’ example of service to the body of Christ is one of the main reasons why I was ordained a deacon twenty years ago on November 10 here at St. Andrew’s.  Dad, my father and my friend, I want to publicly thank you for the gift of faith and service that you and Mom gave to me.

As thankful as I am that you St. Andrew’s are honoring my father and mother, today is less about my parents than it is about Christ’s call to each of us to serve, to be living stones, to be the new Temple of Jesus Christ.  This is easier said than done. Tearing down the old Temple of self, letting go of our self-centered lives, requires us to wrestle with our endless acquisitive desires for more.  Taking up the cross of Christ, living lives centered upon God is the work of a lifetime and, for most of us, beyond.  The Gospel challenges you and me here today to tear down the walls of the old Temple of self to become the new Temple of Jesus Christ, to become living stones, to become servants of our God and of our neighbor.  AMEN.

 

A Humble Life of Character

A Sermon Preached at the Family Eucharist in Honor of My Father Tom Gibson's 90th Birthday

March 9, 2013 

Luke 18:9-14

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: ¹⁰‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. ¹¹The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. ¹²I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” ¹³But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” ¹⁴I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’

            Dad and I were talking a couple of weeks ago about his birthday celebration.  When I said that we needed to celebrate this milestone, he dismissed it saying, “Genetics.”   Obviously, genetics plays a part.  His brother Wally lived well into his 90s.  Dad is blessed with good genes, but I believe today’s celebration is about more than good genes or even length of years although, of course, that is the occasion for our gathering.  Our celebration, I believe, is about character, about the quality of Dad’s character.  I believe it is also an opportunity for each of us to reflect on the character of our lives.  The Gospel calls us to live in the character of Christ.

            Today’s Gospel lesson is about humility.  Humility was not a virtue in the Greco-Roman world.  The virtue admired most by the Romans, who dominated the world at the time, was virtus, a Latin word translated as “courage” or “manliness.”  Humility was frowned upon in the macho Roman world.  Much like today, a man needed to promote himself to get ahead.  Christians however believed humility was a virtue, because at the center of life, at the center of all creation was God.  This call to a life of humility, was a call to put God at the center of a person’s life.  This call challenges us in our scientific age where we have pushed God to the margins and put humanity, put ourselves at the center, as the measure of all things.  The Gospel calls us instead to put God -the creator, the sustainer, and the end of all life - at the center of our lives.  The Gospel challenges us to put on the virtues of Christ.

            It is providential in the best sense of the word that today’s Gospel lesson is about humility.  The lesson was appointed by the daily Eucharistic lectionary.  I did not pick it for this occasion.  As I thought about this lesson and reflected on Dad’s life, I realized that in many ways he embodies the virtue of humility.  I have rarely heard Dad boast about his accomplishments.  While preparing the power point presentation for today’s reception, I realized that not one, not two, but all three of his sons thought so much of him that each asked him to serve as best man at his wedding.  Friday, when I told Dad that was a rare tribute, he gently pushed aside my praise saying, “That’s what happened.”

Dad, you have accomplished much in your life.  You were a leader and a scholar in High School and college.  You had a successful career with General Electric.  You provided well for your family.  You served in leadership positions in your church and your community.  You have children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, nieces and nephews that love and respect you.  By every measure, you are a success, and, yet, your success has never gone to your head.  You are a humble person.  But, as I have reflected on your life, I have come to realize that you embody other virtues of the Christian faith.

            One that I have come to admire in recent years is courage.  The kind of courage I am referring to is not that admired by the Romans – courage in battle.  I am referring to courage in the face of adversity, the kind of courage Jesus exhorts to his disciples in John 16, when he says, “I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution.  But take courage; I have conquered the world!" (John 16:33 NRSV).

In the summer of 2011, Dad developed septicemia.  This illness has a 25% mortality rate.  I imagine it is even higher for someone in their eighties.  Dad was in the hospital for one week and then in rehab for another seven.  One time during a care team meeting, I asked what Dad could do and what I could do to facilitate his recovery.  The physical therapist said that the biggest problem is getting people to do the exercises, but he said that was never an issue for Dad.  He did whatever they asked him.  While he no longer drives and receives some assistance from the VIP program here at Brookwood, today he lives independently.  Every day he rides the recumbent bike for 12 minutes, touches his toes 40 times, and stands up from a chair 40 times.  One time I told Dad that he had made a remarkable recovery.  He modestly said, “I keep trying.”  You do keep trying, Dad.  You have great courage.

            While I could go on and on about your virtues, the final Christian virtue that I have come to appreciate recently in you and one that is often lacking today is balance.  Balance is not, of course, a uniquely Christian virtue.  It was prized in the Greco-Roman pagan world.  Nonetheless, it is also prized in the Christian faith.  Our faith calls us to put God at the center of our lives rather something else, such as work or material possessions that become idols for us.

Dad, you worked long hours at GE leaving home before 7:00 every morning Monday through Friday and coming home at 6 at night, but you rarely worked weekends.  You took time for leisure - sailing, playing shuffle board, and horse shoes.  But you also were involved in your community serving as the Scoutmaster of Troop 4 in Roanoke and on committees here at Brookwood.  You continued to learn.  You constantly read history books.  And you took care of your body.  Every day you did your “huff and puffs,” the Royal Canadian Air Force exercises, in the basement.  You loved nature tracking the weather, bird watching and gardening.  You loved your family going to New Jersey to see them every summer on your vacation.  You enjoyed life, having a good time at parties with friends, dancing with Mom, and golfing with Uncle Tom and your buddies.  And you had a great faith.  You read about the faith, said your prayers daily, devoutly attended worship and served as a lay reader, vestry person, Senior Warden, church handy man and more.  You have had an amazingly rich and full life.  In a world in which so much is out of balance, you have led an incredibly balanced life.

            Dad, you have led a good life in every sense of the word.  In many ways, you embody the virtues of the Christian life.  Today we celebrate not only 90 years, but we also celebrate the great character of your life.  In you, we can see many of the virtues of our faith.  The Gospel today calls each of us whether we are 5 or 90 to grow in these virtues, in the virtues embodied by Jesus Christ. 

 

Jesus Moves In... And Takes Over

 

“Jesus” moved into our house last October. My wife Cindy and I are empty nesters. We live in the older section of

Cary with lots of tall loblolly pines around our 1968 splitlevel. Like most people in middle class America, we lived quiet lives until Jesus turned our lives upside down

 

We both were on edge with “Jesus” in the house – not that we ever felt threatened — we didn’t, and, even if we had, we were bigger than he was. We could have taken him down, if it had ever come to it, and there were times we wanted it to.

 

In some ways, “Jesus” was a good house guest. I enjoyed talking to him and learning about his homeland. He was polite, and tried to be considerate of Cindy’s concern about being alone in the house with a stranger. Since I am out a lot at night for meetings, he often waited till 8 or 9 p.m. before returning home.

 

But “Jesus’ ” presence was trying, too. Our water bill went through the roof! We could only imagine what he was doing with the water running so long in the bathroom. So much water flew around, that the paint started peeling off the walls.

 

He also didn’t seem to mind inconveniencing us. He seemed unconcerned that Cindy fixed dinner at 9:30 p.m. on one of his first nights with us. “Jesus” also seemed to expect us to drop everything to run him to the bus stop or to take him on some other errand.

 

Cindy and I increasingly felt a strain that finally spilled over into hard words between us. With the tension we felt, we imagined he would want to leave. But “Jesus” did not want to leave. He liked our house. He didn’t want to learn a new bus schedule and a new home routine. “Jesus” dragged his feet when a church member volunteered to take him for a week. He asked his prospective host if she was sure she wanted to have him there. “Jesus” canceled a

dinner appointment with her, because, he said, it was cold and raining. This led to hard words between him and me.  After four weeks with us, another St. Michael’s family took him.

 

I had met "Jesus" a couple of months before. The 29-year-old man had fled China because of police persecution for his work with a democratic rights campaign. Like many, he came to the Research Triangle because of its reputation as a good place to live. In need of help, he had called St. Michael’s. I decided to help, because I thought it was what Christ would want. Matthew 25:3 says that whenever you welcome a stranger, you welcome Jesus.

 

It would be a mistake to deny the Chinese asylum-seeker’s flesh and blood humanity. I never thought he was Jesus in human guise. He is a real person with his own strengths and weaknesses. But it would also be a mistake to deny that Jesus was in some way in him.

 

Living in a consumer society there is a temptation to sugarcoat the Gospel, to focus on the benefits of our faith and to ignore the cost. Our faith strengthens our lives in countless ways, one of which is having a sense of meaning in life. St. Michael’s members who worked with the Chinese refugee made a real difference in his life. But the Gospel also challenges us. Jesus does not say love the neighbor you like. He simply says to love your neighbor. At times that is hard, very hard. I struggled with wanting to assist the young man and wanting to throw him out. I was confronted over and over again with how far from Christ I am.

 

The federal government granted the young man asylum at the end of December. He is living in an apartment at a church in Chapel Hill and applying to college. I stay in touch with him through occasional emails and phone calls, and help him as I can.

 

As I have thought about my experience, I think it mirrors the Eucharist. Every Sunday we encounter Jesus — the Word — in the scriptures and sermon.  Realizing our shortcomings in the light of the Gospel, we then confess our sins to God and receive the absolution, the assurance of God’s forgiveness. In truth all of us fall short of the mark of Christ.

 

Ultimately, we can only walk in the way of Jesus to the extent we do through the love of the Father, the grace of Christ, and the power of the Holy Spirit.