Our God is a Wonderful God

The Rev. Ellen Hanckel shared with Trinity Church the good news of her mission to teach at Bishop Gwynne Theological College in Juba, South Sudan. 

Click here to listen to her sermon. 

Spiritual Rorschach Test

by the Rev. Jim Gilman

This sermon is based on Luke 7:36-8:3. Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

Decades ago I was an undergraduate student in college. This was a year or two after the invention of the wheel. Some of you will remember. I majored in psychology. In a course called The Psychology of Personality students were required to both take and administer several standardized tests that measure personality traits. Some of these tests are still standard today. For example, one was the Briggs-Myers test. Many of you probably have taken this test. The results of this test have permanently damaged the self-image of several generations of otherwise perfectly healthy Americans. Another test we had to take and administer was the Rorschach test. Have you taken this test? Sometime it is referred to as the inkblot test. The subject views a formless ink blotch on a piece of paper; and is asked to interpret it; to explain what they see. Trained psychologists then analyze the interpretation and gain insight into the subject’s personality and psychological condition. It sometimes reveals character traits that the subject is reluctant to talk about openly.

            

Our Gospel lesson today presents us with a kind of spiritual Rorschach test. It asks us to view and interpret the actions of a woman who intrudes on a perfectly peaceful man-cave dinner party. How would you view and interpret this woman and how she acts? What would it reveal about your spiritual condition? Luke gives us two interpretations of the same event; and in a sense Luke is recording the results of a spiritual Rorschach test. He records how Simon the Righteous Pharisee sees the woman and Jesus. He also records how Jesus sees the woman and Simon. These two ways of seeing the same event reveal two distinct spiritual personalities, two different underlying psychological conditions. These two ways of seeing, in fact, are windows into the spiritual condition of Simon’s heart and into the spiritual condition of Jesus’ heart.

Luke’s question to us, his readers, is: Which way of seeing do you and I tend toward? When we view people who are different from us, or difficult, or whose lives are somewhat scandalous, how do we view them? How do we interpret their actions? Do we tend toward Simon’s way of seeing, or do we tend toward Jesus’ way of seeing?

            

Simon is a Pharisee, a Righteous and religious man, who invites Jesus to dinner along with friends. Dinner is interrupted by a woman “who is a sinner,” as Luke puts it; a woman who apparently has a reputation. If we take the woman’s actions as a kind of spiritual Rorschach test, Simon reveals more about the spiritual condition of his heart than he does about the woman. He sees her antagonistically and judgmentally; he criticizes and condemns her for her unconventional, disruptive behavior. In doing so he reveals just how selfish and self-righteous his heart really is. In fact, Simon’s eyesight fails him in several ways. First, he sees her only as a sinner; he does not see her as a sinner in need of love and care, as Jesus does. Simon is first and foremost selfish. He has no concern for the well being of the woman, but only for the well being of his dinner party. In doing so, Simon’s eyes fail to see the fact that, just like the woman, he too is a sinner in need of God’s love and care; something his own religious tradition teaches him.

Not only that, Simon also reveals something about his heart by criticizing and misjudging Jesus. He says, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.” Not only does Simon misunderstand what a prophet is, Simon’s pride is so monstrous that he cannot see in himself what he so easily sees in the woman—that he is a sinner.

Contrast Simon’s with Jesus’ way of seeing this random inkblot event. Jesus sees differently. In fact, he suspects that Simon has not really seen this woman at all. In so many words, Jesus asks Simon, “Look at her, don’t you even see what she is doing?” She is showing to me the kind of hospitality, Simon, that you and any decent host are supposed to show a guest. You, Simon, have neglected the very acts of kindness and hospitality that you expect of others. You’re so busy criticizing and complaining that you fail to see the kind heart of this woman; you’re so busy criticizing and complaining that you fail to show me, a guest, the same care and concern this woman, who you criticize as a sinner, shows me.  So, look first at yourself, Simon, and not at the woman. Examine yourself; see if your heart is right and right with God. You will see that you are as much a sinner as this woman; and that God will forgive both of you, as long as you acknowledge you are sinners. But how can you acknowledge that you are sinner when you are so pre-occupied with criticizing and judging and condemning others?

What lessons can we take away from this story, from this spiritual Rorschach test? Everyday we encounter people; how we react to these random, inkblot events reveals the spiritual condition of our heart. Think of people you interact with regularly: members of your family; friends, neighbors,  people you work with or go to school with: How do you see them? How do you judge them? Do you judge them more critically than you do yourself? Do I, do you, simply judge them, as Simon did? Or do you, as Jesus did, see what it is you can do to care for them, to show compassion and contribute to their well being?  Which way of seeing do you and I tend toward? 

Luke’s gospel is teaching us that what we see or don’t see in others reveals as much about our own spiritual condition as it does the condition of others; it reveals who we are in our heart, in our soul. We can all think right now of someone who we tend to see critically and judgmentally, like Simon did the woman; someone who we quickly and easily condemn and dismiss.  By seeing in this way we reveal not what kind of person the other is but what kind of person we are towards them in our hearts. No doubt we can come up with reasons to see them that way. But for Christians there is another way of seeing, a Christ-like way. That way begins with self-examination, that we are sinners and in need of help, in need of God’s love and care. Secondly, Jesus’ way sees others not just as sinners but as sinners in need of help, in need of God’s love and care. This difference between Simon’s and Jesus’ way of seeing may be a small difference, but it is one that makes all the difference: Simon sees the woman as a sinner; Jesus sees her as a sinner in need of God’s love and care and forgiveness, which it is the business of Christians to deliver. Jesus is not the fool Simon makes him out to be; he is not fooled by the women; he knows who and what she is, a sinner. And yet he also knows her heart, and knows what she needs. He knows that her acts of kindness towards him come from a heart of faith and love. Hence, he declares to her “Your sins are forgiven,” something he also offers to Simon and to all of us.

Luke challenges each of us as Christians first to examine ourselves. What kind of eyes do we have? How do we see others? Judgmentally, like Sinon? Or graciously, like Jesus? When we see other people what does that Rorschach test reveal about our own heart, about our faith? What does it reveal about the spiritual condition of our lives? How do we see and judge family members? How about our boss or fellow employees or neighbors or clergy? Do I, do you see with the eyes of Simon or with the eyes of Jesus? May God help us to see as Jesus sees others: not just as sinners but as sinners in need of forgiveness and compassion. May we see with eyes of healing grace; with eyes of acceptance and forgiveness; with eyes of love and mercy. May we as a community of Christians collectively see with the eyes of Jesus; so that Jesus may say of us as he said to the woman: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” 

Jesus Restores Lives

by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Luke 7:11-17. Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

If I were to write a caption for the picture presented in our Gospel story today, it would be “Jesus restores lives in Nain.” And I would use the plural – lives – because, as I read the story, Jesus restores more than one life on his visit to this village.

Most obviously, of course, Jesus restores the life of the young man who had been ill. Luke never tells us what had made this young man ill, what had brought him to the point of death; we never find out the full context of this story. What Luke does tell us is that as Jesus and his disciples and the crowd are approaching the village, they meet another crowd coming out toward them, a funeral procession, carrying a man who had clearly died before his time, because Jesus sees his mother is walking beside the bier, and no parent should outlive their child. Even without the backstory, these details are are enough to arouse Jesus’ compassion, and he steps up and touches the bier; and he speaks to the body, which of course at that point cannot hear him, cannot hear anything; and he says “Young man, I say to you, rise!”; and the young man stirs, and breathes, and his eyes open, and he sits up, and he begins to speak; and, I imagine, Jesus helps him step up off the bier and stand on his own two feet, and Jesus gives him to his mother. Even though to all external appearances this young man was separated from his mother and his friends and his village and the whole world of light and life, separated from everything by the great gulf of death, Jesus reaches across that distance, Jesus overcomes that separation, and Jesus brings him back, Jesus reconnects him to the circles of relationship and activity and love that make him thrive, Jesus restores his life.

That’s the obvious part of the story. Less obvious, but just as important, is the fact that, when Jesus restores the young man’s life, he restores the life of his mother as well. Luke makes quite a point of telling us that the mother is a widow, and that the young man is her only son – and that means that he is her only connection to the resources that could make for a good and happy life for her. In the culture of Jesus’ time, a woman on her own had very little legal or social standing. In the culture of Jesus’ time, a woman was identified by her relationship to some man: she was some father’s daughter, or some husband’s wife, or some son’s mother; and, with very rare exceptions, the only connections a woman had to property or wealth or a place to live or a means to get by came through her relationship to some man. A woman who lost her husband and was a widow would be expected to move in with one of her sons, become part of the son’s household, and be taken care of that way. But a widow who had only one son, and who lost that son, would have nowhere to go, no household to be part of, no place, no status, no name. The mother’s plight here may be less obvious than the young man’s – after all, she is still standing, she is still breathing, she is still in the world – but in a very real sense, her livelihood, her life, is threatened also by her son’s death, her connections to the circles of relationship and activity and love that give her life are all coming apart and being lost as well.

And the way Luke tells the story, it is the widow’s loss of life that arouses Jesus’ compassion. It is her disconnection from the circles of livelihood and life that moves Jesus to intervene. When Jesus restores life to the young man, he does it, in every sense that matters, to restore life to his mother as well. The real life that is restored in this story is the life that is shared, the life of relationship, that which connects in living the man, and the mother, and their friends, and their acquaintances, and the funeral procession, and the crowd, and eventually the entire town of Nain. Their lives are all restored, their lives are all renewed, to one degree or another, because this young man lives in their circles of relationship and activity and love once again.

In fact, I think one of the most important things this story has to teach us is that life, the life that Jesus restores, the life that matters, is more than just biology, more than just the orderly functioning of a bodily organism. Life in its largest sense is a matter of relationship: what gives biological functioning its meaning, its purpose, its depth, its texture, its significance, its satisfaction, its joy, is the relationships we share in and through and by means of our bodily presence. It’s a biological fact that right now I am breathing; but what gives my breathing significance is that I am using my breath to speak, to share ideas, hopefully to inspire insights, to create a relationship through which the Word of God might come to be recognized among us. After this service we will have a picnic, we will eat food together; and while the food will be fuel for the biology of our bodies, it will be the conversation, the conviviality, the fun of picnicking, that will really be the life of the occasion. When Jesus says he comes that we may have life, and may have it more abundantly, it’s not just biology he’s talking about, but the rich life of relationship that connects us and sustains us and nourishes us and helps us grow into the compassionate, creative, loving people God wants us to be.

That is the kind of life Jesus restores in the Gospel story, for the young man and his mother and everyone. And that is the kind of life Jesus promises to restore in us, as well. It is the promise of this Gospel story that we will be restored, we will be renewed, we will come more alive, as we connect ever more deeply in circles of relationship and activity and love that cause us to thrive.

And Jesus is working among us to create those circles of life-restoring relationships all the time. Here at Trinity, within our parish life together, one of those circles is kept and sustained by Trinity Cares. Trinity Cares is a team of laypersons in our parish who have committed themselves to the ministry of pastoral care, of being there for, and reaching out to, members of our congregation who are going through an illness, or experiencing a loss, or celebrating a birth, or feeling lonely, or needing an encouragement. Members of the Trinity Cares team are there to write a card, or bring a meal, or make a phone call, or come for a visit, or offer a ride – just generally to be a friend in the Spirit who rejoices with those who rejoice and weeps with those who weep, who creates a connection in Christ that can raise spirits and reveal compassion and restore life. If you or someone you know could benefit from the ministry of Trinity Cares, you can contact Muffie Newell or myself, amd we can put you in touch with the team. The pastoral ministry offered by Trinity Cares is a great complement to the pastoral ministry offered by Trinity’s priest and deacons, and is just one way our parish grows and deepens our connections in circles of relationship and activity and love that restore our lives.

And the connections we make to sustain circles of relationship and activity and love that restore lives extend far beyond just our congregation. One fact about our parish life that I’m not sure is widely known beyond the Vestry is that each year Trinity Church makes grants to a variety of agencies and nonprofits in our town and in our state, agencies and nonprofits that offer services and ministries we want to be involved in but we can't do just as Trinity Church on our own. Every year we set aside twenty thousand dollars of our parish budget to give away; every year, through your pledges, through your support of Trinity, you are making connections in circles of life-restoring relationships at SACRA, and the Valley Mission, and the Augusta Free Clinic, and the Valley Children's Center, and Jackson Feild School, and Boy’s Home, and the Blue Ridge Area Food Bank, and many others too. That’s another way our parish life together helps us build connections to circles of relationship and activity and love that restore lives.

Jesus came to the town of Nain, and restored among its people the relationships that gave life. May Jesus come to us, and give us grace to restore relationships that give life in our world too. Amen.

Interaction at a Distance

by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Luke 7:1-10. Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

Our Gospel reading this morning tells the story of a healing miracle of Jesus. And while the Gospel tells of many healings by Jesus, this one is a little unusual. 

In most of the healing stories of Jesus, the moment of healing takes place in some kind of close, personal interaction between Jesus and the person being healed. Jesus lays his hands on someone, or he looks intently at someone, or he makes clay and puts it on their eyes, or he tells them to pick up their mat and walk, or he says to them "Your faith has made you well." Usually, in the healing stories about Jesus, there is a moment of direct contact between Jesus and the person being healed, and it is in that moment that the healing takes place. 

But not in this story. In this story, what is remarkable is the lack of any direct contact between Jesus and the recipient of his healing grace. What makes this story remarkable is that it is one of the very few healing stories in the Gospels that show Jesus acting at a distance. 

In fact, the person who needs to be healed, the slave of the centurion, never even appears onstage in this story. He never has a speaking role. Jesus doesn't see him, Jesus doesn't touch him, Jesus doesn't speak a healing word to him – Jesus simply sends forth healing power, and the slave is found to be in good health. This story is remarkable for the seeming disconnect between Jesus and the one who is being healed, the way Jesus reaches across a physical distance to make the healing happen. 

But that's not the only physical distance in the story. The slave never appears onstage – but the centurion doesn't appear onstage, either. The centurion is active in the story, of course – he's the one who reaches out to Jesus, he's the one who asks for the healing, he's the one who tells Jesus he is not worthy to have Jesus come under his roof – but the centurion does all these things at a distance. He never sees Jesus himself. He sends Jewish elders to Jesus to ask for the healing, and he sends friends to explain that it will be enough if Jesus simply speaks the word. But he himself never encounters Jesus eye-to-eye, he himself never has a direct contact with Jesus' healing grace. Part of what makes this story remarkable is the seeming disconnect between the centurion and Jesus, the way the centurion reaches across physical distance to ask that healing happen. 

And it's not just physical distance that's being crossed. The man asking for healing is, after all, a centurion: he is a Roman soldier, a commander of Roman soldiers; he is part of the occupying army that is making Jewish life very difficult. He himself may have come to love the Jewish people; but he has no reason to expect they will have anything but fear and mistrust for him. He has no reason to expect that Jesus will have anything but fear and mistrust for him. So reaching out to Jesus to ask for healing means crossing a distance of suspicion and hatred that, as far as the centurion knows, could be a huge separation between them.

And of course that distance of fear and mistrust works the other way, too: as a Roman commander, the centurion would have known all about Zealots, Jewish patriots who called for armed uprisings against the Roman occupiers. To a lot of Romans, Jesus looked just like that kind of Zealot. After all, he preached about a kingdom that was not the kingdom of Caesar – and to Roman military ears that could sound like insurrection. The formal charge against Jesus at his trial for Crucifixion was precisely that he claimed to be a king in place of Caesar. To the centurion, Jesus could have looked like a shady, dangerous character indeed. So reaching out to Jesus to ask for healing means crossing a distance of fear and mistrust on his own part, as well. 

And yet all of these distances – distance in space, distance in social standing, distance in military might, distance in fear, distance in politics – all of these distances are crossed in the act of reaching out in grace. Even though Jesus and the centurion and the slave never come into direct contact with each other, they are still connected, they still interact at a distance, because of the love of God that surrounds them and upholds them and brings them together, even though to all external appearances they seem to be apart. 

In fact, I think that is the good news of this story – even more than the good news of healing, the good news of this story is that the love of God revealed to us in Jesus surrounds us and upholds us and brings us together in all kinds of ways that cross the distances that to all external appearances keep us apart. Like Jesus and the centurion and the slave in the story, we are all connected – and connected even with people with whom we have no direct contact – because it is the love of God that connects us. 

In a few days a group of youth and adults will leave Trinity for a mission trip to Honduras, where they will work at a school in the community of San Rafael. Now, most of us in the parish will never go to San Rafael, most of us will never see that school, most of us will never have a sense of direct contact with the important work of teaching and life-building that goes on there. But even though we are not in direct contact, we are still connected, because we as a parish support the youth in their mission – we support them by coming to the spaghetti suppers, we support them with our dollars, we support them in our prayers – and the youth carry our support with them when they go to San Rafael. They will literally carry with them cutout footsteps on which are written many of our names, representing many of our gifts. And through the work of those missioners, we as a whole parish will reach out to cross distances of space, and nationality, and poverty, and we will be connected by reaching out in grace in Christ. 

Today we are having a Baptism here at Trinity, as we welcome Lucy Wood Stisser into the household of God and help her begin her pilgrimage of life in Christ. None of us have any idea where Lucy's pilgrimage might take her, what kind of challenges and joys and experiences she might have as she grows up. Chances are that many of us won't have all that much direct contact with Lucy in childhood and youth and adulthood. But we are still all connected with Lucy, because Baptism makes us all one Body in Christ, and every member of the Body is an important influence on the whole Body. We are all connected, because in Baptism Christ reaches out to us in grace and empowers us to reach out in grace to each other, and all kinds of distances are crossed in that baptismal reaching-out. 

And I think we at Trinity have a mission to keep on reaching out in grace, to reach across distances of space and class and race and wealth and fear and mistrust and difference throughout our community, and our region, and our world. The mission of Christ in which we share is not simply to sit here in our church and wait for people to come in, but to go out, to go into the neighborhood, go into the city, go into the county, go where people need us -- just like Jesus was going to the house of the centurion -- and even if we never come into direct contact, our mission is to make connections that can bring healing and reconciliation and faith and love wherever we see that it is needed. The good news of the Gospel for us today is that we can cross all manner of distance to reveal together the grace of Christ. 

May God grant us the courage and the grace to reach across the distances that seem to hold us apart, and to build up our faithful connections in Christ. Amen.