September 2003

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Homily for Exaltation of the Holy Cross - September 14, 2003

We’re all familiar with the character in westerns, the “medicine man”
who pulls into town with his wagon,
and from the back of that wagon
peddles a remedy for snake bite -
and “anything else that might ail the human body”
Truth be told,
these healing medicines were often little more than alcohol,
with a medicinal label slapped on the bottle.

Most of us wouldn’t fall for such a cure today.
And so our more sophisticated view might raise an eyebrow
at the people of Israel gazing upon a bronze serpent,
attached to a pole,
and promising a cure for - snake bite!
That’s exactly what we read in the first lesson today.
Of course the difference is that looking upon the bronze image
didn’t make any one drunk,
but rather, gazing on the image of the snake that plagued them
became a source of miraculous healing for those who had been bitten.

Finding healing by looking at an image
of the snake that bit you.
How primitive!

But perhaps not much more primitive
than how we approach the Cross of Jesus:
a “pole” on which is hung an image meant for our healing.
From my catbird seat in the sanctuary,
I see how many of you spend the quieter moments in our prayer
gazing up at the Cross hanging over our sanctuary.

I see you look up as you genuflect
before taking your seat in a pew.

I see you look up as we make the sign of the Cross
at the beginning of our celebration.

I see how many of you glance at the Cross
just before or just after you receive communion.
Such a glance is not required or even suggested by the church,
but I am confident that those who do look up do so out of faith,
and do so to remember that the bread and cup we share
are, indeed, the body and blood of Jesus Christ -
crucified, buried and risen for our sakes.

On occasion I see a parent speaking with a youngster,
pointing up to the Cross and trying to tell a child
how an image such as this is an icon of God’s love and forgiveness.

Many of us wear a small Cross or Crucifix around our necks.
Some of us have the Cross tattooed on our bodies!

When we baptize infants at Mass,
the priest and the parents and godparents
claim the child for Christ
by marking the child’s forehead with the sign of the Cross.

In the liturgy of Good Friday,
we come forward to venerate the Cross:
to gaze upon it;
to bow or kneel before it;
to touch it - even to kiss it.

In church and in our homes, we place the Cross where we will see it -
where we will encounter it -
and where it will encounter us.

The Cross over our sanctuary is probably out of proportion
to the relatively small space over which it hovers,
and yet no one has ever complained that it is too large.

We are drawn to it.
It draws us to it’s presence.
As the Israelites were drawn
to gaze on the bronze image of the saraph serpent,
the image of death in which they found God’s healing and life,
so are we drawn to the image
in which we find God’s healing and the promise of life forever.

Or as Jesus himself said:
“Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert,
so must the Son of Man be lifted up
so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”

Or, in the words of St. Paul, we look upon the One who
“emptied himself, taking the form of a servant,
who humbled himself, obedient even to death,
even to death on a Cross.”

The Israelites gazed upon the image of the serpent
which was killing them.
We gaze upon the death our sins have caused,
and upon the One whose shoulders carry our burden
so that we might be forgiven, healed, saved.

The Cross celebrates Jesus’ victory over death.
But how can we celebrate his victory
if we do not know what is our share in it?
And how can we know our share in the victory of the Cross
if we do not look the death of our sins in the eye -
and there find our healing, too.

The wounded Jesus
is our healing Lord.
The thorn-crowned Jesus
is our mighty sovereign.
The Cross of Jesus
is our healing and our hope.

We gather, now, at the table
where Jesus shared his life with us
in the bread and cup of the eucharist.
And we gather in the shadow of the Cross
upon which he gave the life that nourishes us.

Let us gaze upon the image of the One who is our hope and our healer.

- Rev. Austin Fleming

Homily for the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time - September 21, 2003

We tend to believe that some things don’t ever really change.
In spite of the cultural revolution in gender over the past 40 years,
most folks believe that you can still pretty much trust
that most men will exhibit a particular set of behaviors
as will most women -
and especially when men and women are interacting with each other.
It’s the philosophy that:
“Men are from Mars and women are from Venus.”

But the scene in today’s gospel story is a compelling example
of how some realities in human relationships
undergo huge changes over the course of history.

2,000 years ago, childhood was a scary time.
- Infant mortality rates sometimes reached 30% of live births.
- Only 40% of children lived to their 16th birthday.
- In the ranking of position among members of a family,
children came last.
- When a famine came upon the land,
children were fed last, after the adults.
- Aquinas, a medieval Mediterranean theologian,
taught that in a raging house fire,
a husband was obligated to save his father first,
then his mother, then his wife, and then his children.
- A minor child had the same social standing as a family slave.
Only upon reaching maturity was a child considered a free person.
(Of course some teenagers still feel this way today!)

First century middle easterners certainly loved their children,
but they also ordered their priorities in a strikingly different way.

I believe that we think of our love for our children,
our putting their needs ahead of ours, as something natural.

But even today, in other cultures,
the needs of children are often served
after the adults have been taken care of.

That’s the context
in which we need to understand what Jesus says and does
in this scene in today’s gospel:
Taking a child, he placed it in their midst,
and putting his arms around the child he said to them,
“Whoever receives one child such as this in my name, receives me;
and whoever receives me, receives not me
but the One who sent me.”

Jesus points to the least significant person around, a child,
and names that child as the portal through which
a relationship with God is established.
Is it any wonder then that the Christian faith
places such supreme value on the life of a child.
even from the moment that life first begins?

And in contrast,
is it any wonder that the abuse of children,
particularly at the hands of the church,
screams out for justice from so deep a place within us?
I wonder:
who would Jesus embrace today
were he trying to show us that the least significant among us
are actually those who show us the face of God?

In ranking the members of society,
whom do you and I assign a place at the bottom of the ladder?
Who’s at the bottom of the ladder in our society?
at work? at school? at play? in our town?
in our nation? in the world?
in my estimation? in yours?

We need to ponder this question,
because the answer to this question is a clue,
a clue to help us understand when and where and how
-and through whom- God is waiting to enter our lives.
It’s possible that we’re looking for God in all the wrong places -
and in fact, we may be actually avoiding the right places.

The eucharist is another sign of how simply and surprisingly
the Lord comes among us to meet us.

In a morsel of unleavened bread, in a sip from a cup,
we receive the life of Jesus,
and the life of the One who sent him.

May the sacrament we celebrate and receive here today
nourish in us a hunger for the embrace and presence of God,
and the wisdom to recognize how it is,
and through whom, our God comes to us
and invites us to come to him.

- Rev. Austin Fleming

Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time - September 28, 2003
Numbers 11:25-29 James 5:1-6 Mark 9:38-43, 45, 47-48

Let’s start with a brain teaser.

I’m going to read a list of names, and as soon as you realize what they have in common,
raise your hand and keep it raised:
Frank Gulinello
Erik Kerr
David McAdam
John Lombard
Katrina Wuensch
Tony Buquor
Meredith Allen
John Hudson
John Murray
Chuck Clough
Austin Fleming.

These are the pastors of the Christian churches in Concord
who are preaching the gospel of Jesus this weekend
- most of them preaching on the very same texts we just heard -
and all of them, in the week ahead,
will minister in the name of Jesus.

And because I know them,
I can assure you that not one of them is “against us”
and so, in the words of Jesus,
that means that they are “for us.”
And since we are not “against them”
then it follows that we are “for them.”

It’s what Jesus said: Whoever is not against us is for us.
That’s a saying of Jesus to which we need to pay more attention.
It’s a strong word.
In just eight words, Jesus levels the playing field with a universality that is too often
compartmentalized, fenced off, fractioned, boxed in, and divided up.

Have you ever heard folks say:
“Well, it doesn’t matter what church you belong to:
the only thing that matters is that you believe in God.”

And this is often followed by,
“Well, it doesn’t really matter if you go to church on Sunday or not:
the only thing that matters is that you live a good life.”

And then you might hear,
“Well, of course it’s good to try to do the right thing, but you know, I’m only human.”

And finally,
“Hey, really: don’t you think in the end
God is just gonna forgive everyone anyway?”

That’s reductionism and it threatens to lead us back to the empty wasteland,
the dark abyss in Genesis where all is without form
and from which God created and shaped the world and us.

What Jesus espouses in the gospel today
does not encourage a formless world in which nothing really matters;
rather he prompts us to recognize a great unity in creation
which is evidenced even in the different ways
we live and preach his gospel, and do his work.

This means that on this Sunday morning
when the different Christian churches are at worship
in their own houses of prayer,
God hears not competing choruses of discord
but only one great chorus, a real symphony of sacred sounds
which rise up to heaven
in the praise and thanksgiving of our prayer.

Unfortunately, there are some who actually believe that God in heaven
is happier with our prayer,listens more closely to our prayer
-on this side of the street-
than he is to the prayer of West Concord Union Church
on the other side of the street.

Nonsense! Rubbish! Of course not!

Like Joshua, who was jealous of Eldad and Medad
who received the spirit of God even though they had not been
in the right place, at the right time, with the right people;
and like John in the gospel
who actually tried to stop others
from healing and driving out demons
simply because they weren’t members of John’s group;
like Joshua and John,
we are often prejudiced against other Christians
who also claim Jesus as their Lord and the gospel as their scripture.

Probably the most common expression of this prejudice among Catholic people
is the statement that does something like this:
“Well, of course, such and such a church is very nice
and I’m sure they do good work,
but you know, only we Catholics have the eucharist,
the real presence of Jesus in communion.”

Should it not amaze us that we claim, so easily,
to know the mind and work of God in the universe?

How easily we assume that
God limits himself within the context of canon law;
never acting outside of our understanding of the divine;
and making his word and self present
only in those churches which claim Catholic as their name.

How easily we forget that the very word “catholic” means UNIVERSAL.

Now, because I could be so easily misunderstood, misinterpreted and misquoted here,
let me be clear:
- I am not for one moment questioning or denying
the truth and authenticity of the Catholic Church.
- I am not for one moment claiming that the differences
that divide Christendom do not matter or are not important.
- I am not for one moment questioning the presence of Jesus
-in our gathering as his body
-in the proclamation of his word in scripture
-and in the sacrament of this altar.
In fact, I believe that the work of the Holy Spirit GUARANTEES
the abiding, sacramental presence of God in our church.

But I can NOT guarantee
that God won’t choose to make himself equally present
- wherever, whenever and however he chooses!

God is bigger than canon law.
God is bigger than our theology.
God is bigger than the institution of the Catholic church.
And in the gospel today, Jesus himself invites us
to look beyond the prejudice our walls build
and to see the vast expanse of the presence and work of God
among his people everywhere.

Christians all over Concord this weekend
are gathering at altars, with gifts of bread and wine,
and remembering what Jesus did at the last supper.
With all those Christians we already share
one Lord, one faith, and one baptism.
Pray with me that one day
we will share one communion and one supper which is the Lord’s.

- Rev. Austin Fleming