It was at St John’s Dubuque in 2003 that I was first invited
to ask the whole congregation to come forward to receive the laying-on of hands
with the reaffirmation of their baptismal vows. It seemed that everyone came
forward “as was their custom.” It is a practice I have happily taken with me around
the Diocese since. Invocation of the Holy Spirit is a large part of the
Bishop’s public prayer life. That is because our common life is very much “in
the Spirit.” This weekend’s experience was no less so.
The Spirit led our conversations starting with the
unexpected theme that emerged among the clergy as we gathered for a Saturday
morning session with clergy of the East Chapter. Kent Anderson spoke of one
experience while fishing. He was not doing well while it seemed the fish were
almost jumping into the boats of his neighbors. He said that he felt this way
as he saw two storefront churches open around St John’s and quickly attract
congregations of 75 and 200 respectively. His confession prompted a
conversation around drawing people in to the Church by making our talk more
real, about Jesus and the transformation of the world. One priest said that we
need to think not so much “out of the box” but perhaps “out of the book.” We
spoke about non-eucharistic seeker services, perhaps at 9pm and mid-week. St
John’s has, in fact, started a Wednesday evening bible study in a pizza parlor.
The location has doubled the size of the group and includes two young women who
openly state that this is their Church group, not having any other connection
with a church or with St John’s Sunday congregation.
There was a distinct carry-over of this theme as we met with
the laity Saturday afternoon for the “Reframing Hope” session. I also sensed a link with a conversation
Donna and I had had last week with the confirmands of Trinity Davenport when
the topic of dystopia came up on both occasions. This time it was introduced by
one of the octogenarians of St John’s. It triggered a series of moments of
recognition among us and made us wonder if we are “talking real” in the Church
and offering the hope that is within us with sufficient clarity and resolve. We
were reminded not to underplay the powerful nature of the liturgy and
liturgical actions which led me to offer a short portion of my sermon prepared
for the next day. It was that kind of Spirit-led day, which we rounded out with
a prayer service for the Eve of Pentecost designed by David Eddy as part of his
training requirements as a Verger.
On Sunday we baptized a little one, confirmed two young
girls and received a history professor from Wartburg Seminary. Over the past
few years there has been quite a noticeable gathering of academics in theology
and philosophy at St John’s. It made me wonder what impact they might be able
to have on the educational formation of the Diocese. For all the lamentation around fishing
stories, this is a distinct outcome of the ministry of Kathleen and Kent. I can
only believe that the deep thinking and praying for new ways of reaching out to
our dystopian culture will be blessed and used of God.
As the Gospel was being read in German, Spanish, Russian,
Latin, Greek, Zande and English I thought of the Spirit’s great love for
interpreting; and that if we ask, we will receive the gift of tongues that
speaks to this generation. The hunger, however, has to be for this generation,
and for Christ’s word to be made known, and not for our institutions to survive
for their own sakes. We get these things mixed up so many times. I am grateful
to the people of St John’s for their ministry this weekend. The Spirit was with
us and is with them. I wonder, what will it mean for them to cast their nets on
the other side of the boat?
Sermon at St John’s Episcopal Church, Dubuque—8 June 2014
The Day
of Pentecost (Readings: Acts 2: 1-21; 1 Corinthians 12: 3-13; John 7: 37-39)
“As yet there was no Spirit, because Jesus was not yet
glorified.”
I was once told that when we read John’s Gospel, it is never
quite what it seems. There are hidden meanings behind straight-forward phrases
and today’s short Gospel passage is no exception. Jesus had come to the Temple
in Jerusalem around the great Feast of the Tabernacles—a harvest celebration
held when all the year’s crops had been brought in from the fields. The
festival lasted eight days and on the final day—the eighth day—a holy
convocation was called. People gave thanks for the crops but also for the rain
that was a vital part of their growth.
For seven days a procession took place from the Temple to
the pool of Siloam—a golden pitcher of water was collected and brought to the
altar to be poured out over the side of the altar, as the Choir sang praises to
God for the gift of water. For reasons unknown, the ceremony was not carried
out on the eighth day, the final day of the Feast. How significant, then, that
Jesus chose this day to declare His own ability to quench thirst.
In the words of the biblical scholar F.F. Bruce:
“No material water was poured, and so Jesus offered spiritual, life-giving
water to all who would receive it from Him.” We are taken—if we look to the end
of the New Testament to that vision of another Temple—where waters of life flow
from the throne of God and of the Lamb in Revelation 22:1.
The Living waters of God flow from the very dwelling place of God—not from any
earthly Temple. And they flow only once Jesus’ earthly ministry is ended and He
sits upon that very same throne—the throne of the Lamb as the Lamb of God
Himself!
For, while Jesus was not yet glorified—the Spirit was not
yet.
Two things become clear to us if we are open to receive
them. First—there is a life-giving reality that exists beyond, within and from
our earthly actions of worship, prayer and praise. As down the ages, our
earthly Temples take us so far and no further. By ‘earthly Temples’ I mean
everything we surround ourselves with that seeks to stimulate our souls—our
inner beings.
Now don’t get me wrong, beautiful, transcendent architecture
and elaborate rituals carry us out of ourselves and place us within a sense of
majesty. Music—whether of organ or other instruments or the human voice—stirs
up in us emotions so deep, we can hardly access them through any other channel.
Vestments and studied actions and processions—postures of kneeling, standing,
bowing—speak to our egos that we are not as important as we might think. We
reverence our Creator and redeemer and we are reminded of our limitations as we
give thanks and even as we give generously of ourselves and our possessions in
return.
For seven days the ceremony takes us so far. But on the
eighth day there appears a gap. Into that gap Jesus steps forward and invites
people, invites us, to go further.
“Let anyone who is thirsty come to Me and let the one who
believes in Me drink.” Come to Me and drink.
Jesus had done
something like this before. In speaking with the Pharisees about Scripture, He
said, “You search the Scriptures for in them you believe you will find eternal
life. But you do not come to Me that you may have life.” (John 5: 37). The
study, the ceremony, the devotion, the displaying of right worship—just like
the searching of Scriptures for eternal life—takes us all so far; but there is
one additional step for all of us. “Come to Me,” says Jesus, “I lie beyond it
all, even though it all speaks of Me.”
It is the giving of yourself to Jesus that is the extra
step; the glorifying of Him in your life; making Him the most holy, glorious
presence you desire to know. Think of Paul’s exclamation as He looked over his
years of study and devotion: “I count everything as trash that I might know
Jesus Christ—the fellowship of His sufferings and the Power of His resurrection.”
How does that interpret for an Episcopalian? There is a step
beyond our participation in the sacraments of the Church—even in ordination as
deacon, priest or bishop. Baptism and confirmation are wonderful gifts in our
lives—and yet the hunger and thirst in us has to be for knowing the God in
Christ our sacraments reveal.
Secondly, the Spirit enables this or makes it happen. For
the Spirit flows from beyond earthly Temples, from the very dwelling place of
God where Jesus and the Father are One. There is always more than meets the
eye. Yet to receive it requires a hunger and a thirst for righteousness, for a
right discernment of our connection with God. This is what the Spirit gives. It
is what the gift of this Day is about.
Let us pull back a little from the Gospel passage. Earlier,
while still in Galilee, Jesus is confronted by his brothers who are skeptical
about Him. In fact, John tells us that they did not believe in Him. Their
answer to His developing mission is for Him to go to Jerusalem and declare
Himself. “Get on television,” is what we might say. Jesus responds with an
interesting thing. “My time is not yet present, but your time is always ready.”
Bruce comments: “For people who had no such awareness of
living from moment to moment in sensitive rapport with God’s directing will,
one time was as good as another.”
We have a choice—to let God determine our moments, or
continue with a life insensitive to or unconscious of “God’s directing will”
for which “one time is as good as another.”
On the Day of Pentecost, the disciples were all together in
the upper room. Suddenly they heard a great noise like a rushing wind and
flames like fire appeared upon their heads. We read of no Thomas missing on
that day. Those who discerned their lives as in rapport with God because of
everything they had seen and heard were all present. And Jesus’ gift came. The
Holy Spirit took them beyond Temples, even while still attending the Temple;
beyond words while still studying words; beyond life while still living life
out. The Spirit took them to a time that was not their own to share a life with
the Presence that comes from beyond all time and all space and all of life as
we know it.
Is that what you are
waiting for? Is that what you want to be in connection with? Is that what you
thirst for? Jesus says: “Come unto Me and not only will I give you rest, but
quench your thirst and you in turn will quench the thirst of others.” Because
once the Spirit comes, She knows no stopping, but seeks to flow in us and
beyond us into the life of one another—out into the streets of Jerusalem, into
the streets of Dubuque, onto the streets of Nzara, covering the whole globe.
I know that you believe me because you know it is true. You
see it for yourself. Come let us drink once more together.
Amen
