11/13/09

A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Body of Christ


The following is the address given by the Rev. Daniel K. Dunlap on the occasion of his installation as Rector of The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Tomball, Texas on November 12, 2009.
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Auspicious occasions, such as this, often begin with a quote gleaned from a great spiritual classic. With the big announcement this week from Rome that the Vatican was joining together with scientists to explore the implications to the Christian faith of the possibility of life on other planets, I couldn’t think of a more appropriate classic to quote from than that great 20th century spiritual classic – Douglas Adam’s A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. In the last chapter of Adam’s book comes this final entry from the Hitchhiker’s Guide:

“It said: The History of every major Galactic Civilization tends to pass through three distinct and recognizable phases, those of Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication, otherwise known as the How, Why and Where phases. For instance, the first phase is characterized by the question How can we eat? the second by the question Why do we eat? and the third by the question Where shall we have lunch?’’’

We laugh because we know that there is a great deal of truth in this statement, perhaps not on the Galactic level (that we yet know of at least), but certainly in the human sphere: Survival, Inquiry, and Sophistication – the “how,” “why” and “where” phases of our human experience. Such applies not only to great civilizations, and our own empty stomachs from time to time, but also to communities (dare I say to parishes as well).

In April 2008, our parish, The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Tomball, TX, suffered what many simply refer to as “the split.” (I like to call it “the departure.”) We went from being a parish that had arguably been in the “sophisticated” phase to one that was forced back into the phase of “survival.” Those of you who were here during that time (and I’m happy to say that we have active members who were not with us yet) will remember that first parish meeting with Bishop Wimberly, then-Canon Doyle, and Bob Biehl after “the split.” I was at the meeting, more out of curiosity and moral support than any sense of commitment or responsibility at that point. But the foremost question on people’s minds was “how?” How can we continue? How can we survive as a parish? How can we go on? How do we do church?

By the grace and mercy of God, through the support of the diocese, and through the commitment of those who remained, and the leadership of a great vestry and a great team of ministry leaders (there are, of course, many names we can mention here…), Good Shepherd as a parish did survive. Our prayers did not go unanswered. In the subtle ways that the Spirit moves among the people of God, we found answers to the question “how,” though, admittedly, we still have quite a way to go before we can completely live into those answers. However, what we have learned so far is what we read about this evening in the book of Numbers, Chapter 11; namely that the Spirit of God does not reside solely on the designated leader of the people, Moses (or in our case the rector of a parish), but rather comes upon others who share the burden of ministry. God says to Moses of the seventy elders, “I will take some of the spirit that is on you and put it on them; and they shall bear the burden of the people along with you so that you will not bear it all by yourself” (cf. Numbers 11:17).

We have a long way to go, but certainly in the past year we have re-learned the “how” of being a parish again, and I believe the lessons we have learned make us a much healthier parish at that, where the people of God share in the burden of ministry, and where hospitality means all are invited and included at the Table again. I think a moment like is a reason to celebrate, not my new ministry, but our new ministry.

A great part of the answer to “how phase” took place in the discernment process that led to the adoption of our new Core Values and Mission Statement. I want you to look at the cover of your bulletin tonight. It’s a different cover than what we’ve been using on Sunday mornings. It includes a logo (see above), a Celtic cross design on which our five Core Values are emblazoned: (1) WORSHIP, the very center of our common life together; and radiating out from the cross, on the outside circle or nimbus, are (2) FAMILY, (3) CHRISTIAN FORMATION, (4) OUTREACH, and (5) HOSPITALITY. Each of the Core Values on the nimbus is in a dynamic, overlapping, and fluid relation to the others, and all flow from the center—from WORSHIP, our Eucharistic celebration at the Altar of Christ. I want you to get accustomed to this logo. Memorize these Core Values; internalize them. These are what the “new” Good Shepherd is about. In large part, these Core Values answer the “how” questions for us. Yet I would be remiss if I did not also point out the glaring omissions on the last page of your bulletin, in the Ministry Leaders section where the word “OPEN” marks the place where a name should go under two categories: Fellowship and Outreach. This does not mean where not doing these things. But how much more effective would we be if we had people to take on these tasks? Core Values are not static statements. Merely saying so does not make it so. Rather they are living statements, ideals that should continually challenge us; values that we need to live into.

Suddenly, our parish finds itself in the “why” phase – Inquiry. Now, perhaps it’s because I’m a history and philosophy type, but I really like this phase. I glory in it! Asking ourselves questions like “why” do we do the things we do? “Why” is the world the way it is? “Why” does God allow this to happen in our lives and not that? “Why” does God loves us? “Why” does God love me? “Why” can’t I always feel the love of God in my life? “Why” do we exist at all? This is the bulk of what we do in church. It is the reason we gather together, we read the Scriptures, we confess the Creeds, we baptize our children, and partake of the bread and wine in the Eucharist. (There is a reason why our Anglican tradition refers to the sacraments as “holy mysteries.”) The why-phase is the most dynamic and exciting of all the phases. It shares in the vulnerability of the “how” (the survival phase) because those in the why-phase realize how precariously close they are to falling back into the how-phase. However, those in the why-phase are also able to look beyond it into the next phase: the where-phase – the phase of “sophistication” (in Adams’ terminology), but what I think for our purposes may be better called phase of “fulfillment.”

But here’s the secret of living successfully in the why-phase: the why-phase reaches no conclusion before its time. It is content to live in the tension of the preliminary. A parish or a church in this phase must live in the humility that some “why” questions are not easily answered and that we as the People of God are called to explore such questions side-by-side with people with whom we may not always see eye-to-eye. (This of course is the unique calling of The Episcopal Church and those of us who have made the decision to stay in it. It is the unique calling of our parish.) Those in the why-phase are content merely to fulfill Christ’s commandment to “love one another as Christ has loved us” (cf. John 15:12). Such people exemplify a love that, in the words of St. Paul, is sincere, hating the evil, while clinging to what is good; a devotion to one another in brotherly love, honoring others about themselves. Such a people never lack zeal, but are full of spiritual fervor in serving the Lord. They are joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. They share with those in need and practice hospitality. They bless those who persecute them, when cursing would be so much easier to do. They rejoice with those who rejoice, and mourn with those who mourn. They live in harmony with each other, and are willing to associate with the downcast and the outcast; never repaying evil with evil, but seeking to live at peace with all people. (See Romans 12:9-17.)

May we never ever leave the why-phase, at least on this side of the Resurrection. That is my prayer for Good Shepherd. Why? Because the next phase is fraught with presumption, danger and strife. Those in the why-phase are always conscious of how close they are to falling back into the “how-phase,” the phase of survival. Those who presume to have moved on to certainty – into a supposed sophistication phase – have coddled and soothed themselves into thinking that they are safe. They have forgotten how close they are to the how-phase. As Douglas Adams informs us in his sequel to The Hitchhiker’s Guide (appropriately entitled The Restaurant at the End of the Universe): “There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.”

My friends, it has happened. We’ve experienced it right here. One fateful day in April 2008, the universe as we knew it, the universe that so many of us thought we had finally figured out, instantly disappeared, only to be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable! …And more wonderful, mysterious, and beautiful, I might add. The sophisticated phase is not a phase that we can presume to enter, nor can we afford as a parish ever to be tempted into believing that it is attainable in this life. Those churches or parishes who do actually end up killing the spirituality of their fellowship ironically by making it too spiritual! According to author and theologian, Simon Chan (Spiritual Theology), such churches, in believing they have all the answers (or at least the answers to all the really, really important issues in life), seek to impose these “answers” on others. They begin to exist purely for their own spiritual ends; ironically opening themselves up to an even greater danger, since any minor infraction becomes an infringement that demands radical action. Simon Chan writes, “Fellowships that seek to preserve the purity of the ‘New Testament church’ are more likely to experience ugly schisms than are churches that have no such pretensions.”

Douglas Adams quips, “When all questions of space, time, matter and the nature of being have been resolved, only one question remains – Where shall we have dinner?” (The Restaurant at the End of the Universe). Well, some have chosen to have their “dinner” at another table, around another altar. Whatever else we may be tempted to think of those folks who left us, we need to remember that their universe disappeared on that fateful day in April 2008 as surely as did ours. They too had to re-enter the how-phase. Let us pray remember to pray for them, that they too will be content to remain in the why-phase and not be in such a hurry to answer the “whys,” lest they rush headlong back into the “where.”

My friends, I cannot begin to tell you how thankful I am to be part of this wonderful adventure into the unknown of this enormous universe that God has created for us to explore. I thank our God for his grace and I thank his people for their support. For some mysterious reason he chose me to be your guide as we “hitchhike” our way through parish life in the Body of Christ. I would never presume to tell you that I will always know where we are going. I can only commit to you tonight that on this leg of the journey we will get wherever we are going together.

11/9/09

Veterans Day Commemoration (read by Joe Sturdevant)



The story goes that a soldier was watching a military parade with his grandson. The boy looked up at his grandfather and asked, "Grandpa, was you a hero??" The old Vet thought a while and then answered quietly: "No I don't think I was a hero...but I served with a lot of them."

The holiday we commemorate today used to be called Armistice Day, after the document signed on a small train car in a French forest on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in the year 1918, which brought to an end the First World War. Well over 4 million Americans served in that conflict, and all of them are now gone, except for one. He's Frank Buckles, of Charles Town, West Virginia, who 92 years ago today was on active duty in the United States Army. Corporal Buckles is a living connection to a war fought many years ago. But today there are more than 23 million veterans.

You might ask who they are, and what, if anything, makes them different from other Americans. (Statistics as of 2008)

The number of military veterans in the United States was 23.2 million.

There were 1.8 million female veterans.

The number of black veterans was 2.3 million. Additionally, 1.1 million veterans were Hispanic; 276,000 were Asian; 160,000 were American Indian or Alaska Native; 27,000 were Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander; and 18.3 million were non-Hispanic white.

There were 9.2 million veterans 65 and older. At the other end of the age spectrum, 1.9 million were younger than 35.

There are five states with 1 million or more veterans. These states are California (2.1 million), Florida (1.7 million), Texas (1.7 million), New York (1 million) and Pennsylvania (1 million).

26 percent of veterans 25 and older have at least a bachelor's degree. 91 percent of veterans 25 and older have a high school diploma or higher. There are 10.4 million veterans ages 18 to 64 in the labor force.

As these numbers demonstrate, our veterans represent the entire spectrum of our American culture.

Vice President Cheney’s address last year at the Tomb of the Unknown: “Military service demands a special kind of sacrifice. The places where you live and serve, the risk you face, the people you deal with every day -- all of these are usually decided by someone else. For the time you spend in uniform, the interests of the nation must always come first. And those duties are shared by family members who make many sacrifices of their own, face separation during deployments and sometimes bear extreme and permanent loss.

Military service brings rewards as well. There is the pride of developing one's character and becoming a leader, serving a cause far greater than any self interest and knowing that our nation's cause is the hope of the world. Every man and woman who wears America's uniform is part of a long, unbroken line of achievement and honor. No single military power in history has done greater good, shown greater courage, liberated more people, or upheld higher standards of decency and valor than the Armed Forces of the United States of America.”

G. K. Chesterton said: “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” American soldiers take some of America with them wherever they go.

General Colin Powell tells this story: He’d had a wealthy Japanese businessman come into his office and describe what it was like for him as a child in 1945 to await the arrival of the dreaded American beasts, and instead meet a smiling G.I. who gave him a Hershey bar.

In thanks, the businessman was donating a large sum of money to the USO. After thanking him, General Powell gave him as a souvenir a Hershey bar he had autographed. The businessman took it and began to cry.

Vice President Cheney concluded his comments last year with this tribute:

There is no mystery behind the endurance and the success of American liberty. It is because in every generation, from the Revolutionary period to this very hour, brave Americans have stepped forward and served honorably in the Armed Forces of the United States.

The following story was told at the White House. It happened in Italy, in a time not too long after the end of the Second World War. A father wanted to encourage his young son to do well in school. After the boy got good grades, his dad took him on a journey to Rome. Near the end of their vacation the father said, "Now we'll have the most important day. I'm going to take you to a sacred place." He brought the boy to the military cemetery at Anzio, the final resting place of nearly 8,000 American servicemen.

As they stood there among the rows of crosses, the father turned to his son and said, "Read those names and read those birth and death dates. These are young people, young soldiers who crossed the ocean and came here, and made the extreme last sacrifice to give you freedom and dignity. You owe them everything that is good in your life today. You have to swear here today that you will never, ever forget that you owe them everything you have, and you will always be grateful to their country and to them for what they gave you."

That little boy became the Prime Minister of Italy. All his life he kept his promise to his father, and when he visited the White House, he expressed his nation's continuing gratitude to the people of United States.

The America that liberated Europe six decades ago is still an active, hopeful presence in the affairs of mankind. In a world of so many perils, from hunger and disease to political oppression to the spread of deadly technology, America remains the best hope of those who suffer and live in fear. Our cause is liberty, justice, and peace, and millions breathe free today because of American soldiers who fought and sacrificed for that cause.

Many of those heroes rest in places like Anzio and Arlington and along Veterans Memorial in Northwest Houston. Yet many of them are still with us as friends, as neighbors and colleagues. They are America's veterans, and they are still the pride of our nation. They have fought our wars, defended our shores and kept us free. May God keep us ever grateful for their service.

The Measure of Our Reliance on God - Pentecost 23 (November 8, 2009)



1 Kings 17:8-16
Psalm 146
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44

They were both widows and they were both poor. They were also down to their last resources. These are the circumstances in the two stories we read from today’s lessons: the Widow of Zeraphath (1 Kings 17), who gave her last bit of meal to the prophet Elijah during a drought in the land; and the Widow in the Temple (today’s Gospel from Mark 12), who placed her two last copper coins in the Temple treasury while Jesus was teaching in the Temple.

No, this is not a sermon on stewardship, and certainly it is not a sermon on tithing, if only for the fact that tithing involves giving ten percent and these women gave everything they had left. It is however a sermon on sacrifice and reliance, more particularly, about how we measure our reliance on God. Let me tell you my thesis from the outset: the measure for reliance is sacrifice. That is to say, how much we rely on God is directly proportional to how much we are willing to sacrifice.

In both of these stories, the widows are literally down to their last earthly resources. The Widow of Zeraphath tells Elijah, when he tells her to bring him a morsel of bread, “As the LORD your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die.” Similarly, when Jesus notices the widow in the temple: “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” The Greek text is a little stronger here than we see in our translations. Literally, she put in her “bios” – i.e. her life.

Now it is instructive to consider the context of Jesus’ statement here. Giving money to the Temple treasury was not the anonymous act of placing one’s tithe or pledge envelope into the offering plate each week as we have become accustomed to in church. In the section of the Temple called the “Court of Women” were thirteen large receptacles. (Notice that these receptacles were specifically placed in the “Court of Women” rather than the “Court of Men” so that all could contribute to the upkeep of the Temple; and then notice Jesus’ remarks about “devouring widow’s houses” – but I digress.) As people came forward to toss in their gifts they were expected to announce the amount and the purpose for which the gift was given in order to be heard by the priest overseeing the collections.

Of course, there was a practical purpose for this: as any church treasurer can tell you, it’s good to keep track of the amount of receipts coming in (and expenses going out). But over time these public announcements, naturally enough, became occasions for pride; a demonstration of one’s wealth and generosity; an occasion to assert one’s status. How impressive it is to give a great gift and to have it announced for all to hear! The greater the amount given, the greater one’s status becomes. Things are not too different today. Who isn’t impressed when someone with great wealth (like “Bill Gates”) gives an enormous amount of money to a worthy cause. It’s worth celebrating, especially if one’s organization or charity happens to be the beneficiary!

But the mistake we often make is to assume that the amount of a gift is an accurate indicator or measure of the amount of one’s piety. This is certainly the assumption of those in the Temple on this particular occasion. Pretty soon we come to regard those with wealth, status and resources as the ones truly in God’s favor. But it’s just this idea of piety that Jesus warns against: “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows' houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” “Don’t be like them!” Jesus says. The scribes were the lawyers of the day, experts in the Torah, especially the oral tradition. But they were also every bit as proficient in finding ways around the law and applying the law to enrich themselves – hence, Jesus’ comment about “devouring widows’ houses.”

How impressive it would have been to watch such people, with their long robes and great status, tossing large sums of money into the temple coffers, calling out the amount for all to hear, announcing their piety to the world! In such a crowd, who would notice a lone widow tossing in the two lowest coins in the realm? – Jesus noticed. And it was not the sum of her gift that Jesus declared was measure of her piety and faith, but rather the amount of her sacrifice – she had given all that had; she had thrown in her whole life. But, mind you, this was not a gamble. She was not laying all her money down on God in one last desperate bet on life. Rather she was trusting her life to God.

As I said at the beginning of this sermon – the measure of our reliance on God is not the amount that we give, but what we willing to offer to God in sacrifice.

A Sermon for All Saints Day (November 1, 2009)



It is the conversation that every parent dreads, and yet no parent is able indefinitely to avoid: “Where’s grandma?” If the parent is a Christian, the answer typically is “She’s in heaven,” or perhaps “She’s with Jesus.” “When is she coming home?” “She’s not coming home.” “Why not?” “She’s with God now. It was her time.” “Will we see her again?” “Yes, dear, someday.” “When?” “When we go to heaven to be with Jesus.”

These questions are uncomfortable, even for people of faith, for death is still an insurmountable mystery – the great divide, the journey from which no one (at least in our limited experience) has ever returned. How can we attempt to explain to children not only that which we know so little about ourselves, but that which we tenaciously devote a lifetime of resources, money and efforts of self-preservation to avoid?

But the search to find an explanation of or to make sense of death is as old as human self-awareness itself. Each culture, every society, every human community that ever existed has attempted to provide answers. The funerary rites of many civilizations, both past and present, often provided for the comfort of the dead through gifts of worldly goods, and even caches of food and drink, to make the journey into the afterlife less arduous or perhaps more enjoyable once the dearly departed arrived at their final destination. Many ancient monuments, many of the great ancient wonders of the world (e.g. the Pyramids of Giza, or the Necropolis of China’s First Emperor), were built in the attempt to make sense of the mystery death.

Christians are not immune from devising our own images of death to cope with mortality. We imagine St. Peter standing at the pearly gates admitting the worthy into heaven (or else sending the unworthy to that “other place”); each disembodied soul occupying his/her own cloud; earning our angel wings, and receiving halos. In the West, especially since the time of Augustine, speculation on what happens to the soul after death led to the development of the doctrine of purgatory, and eventually to the abuse of that doctrine in the sale of indulgences, which was one of the presenting causes of the Protestant Reformation in the 16th century.

Many of these images seem so natural, so much a part of our popular belief, that we automatically assume that the Bible’s pages are filled with descriptions of disembodied, winged and haloed saints; of the pearly gates of heaven and streets of gold. But, in fact, the Bible has very little to say about the immediate experience of death or what theologians like to call the “intermediate state” between the death and the resurrection. Do not misunderstand me, the Bible has plenty to say about death. One of the most important biblical stories (Adam and Eve) tells us how death entered the human condition, revealing death as a curse. But the Bible says surprisingly little about what it is like to experience death, or of what happens to the soul immediately after death.

However, this does not mean that the Christian faith is devoid of any satisfying answers. For this is where biblical faith – the faith of the Church – stands apart from all other kinds of faith. While most religions prepare their adherents for death, the Bible’s testimony and focus is on LIFE. Jesus did not say, “He who hears my word and believes the one who sent me will have a pleasant afterlife; or will reach Nirvana,” but rather, “He who hears my word and believes in the one who sent me will have eternal life.” The whole focus of the Bible is on LIFE not death.

This is precisely why the doctrine of the resurrection, and consequently the Church’s belief that Christ was raised from the dead, is a non-negotiable of the Christian faith, even if there is much about the resurrection that is still a mystery to us. This morning’s Gospel, the account of the raising of Lazarus, affirms both the tragedy of death and the hope of the resurrection. Jesus weeps; he is greatly distressed – not merely because his friends, Mary and Martha, have lost their brother; but because death is a tragedy. Death is not intended to be our destiny. But then Jesus commands that the stone that closed off Lazarus’ tomb be rolled away, even though he had been in the tomb for four days: “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” he says to Martha. He then calls forth Lazarus from the grave; because Lazarus, the friend of Jesus, is called to life, not to death.

St. John’s vision in the Book of Revelation expresses the same truth in this way: I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. A new heaven and a new earth, just as there is a “new Jerusalem” – the Church of God.

LIFE, full-bodied LIFE, not some kind of ethereal, disembodied “after-life” is the description that the Bible provides us, and what we as Christians believe is the destiny of every child of God. And with this knowledge, and the power that lies behind the knowledge of our appointed destiny of life, the Christian cannot help but be transformed even in this present life. As St. Paul says: “Just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”

It turns out then that we as Christians have much to hope in; for we have the ultimate answer to our great adversary, death – the victory over death that we have in the One who died for us, and was raised again on the third day – not only for ourselves, but for those who have gone on before us (our loved ones, our friends, our parents, grandparents, etc.) – ALL THE SAINTS. When we remember them, when we pray for them, when we recall their godly examples and influence on our lives – we are not invoking mere memories; nor are we simply calling up spirits from the dead. Rather we are celebrating with them – in a real way – the life that both we and they NOW HAVE in Christ. For the promise of Christ is as true for those who precede us in physical death as it is for those who tarry still on earth – for what we do here at the altar of our church, and what each community of Christians throughout the world does each time they gather for worship, is joined together with the worship all who have died in the knowledge of God and of the Lamb, who stand before his throne night and day; where we are numbered with them as a multitude that no one can count, from every nation, every tribe, every people and every language; where we join with ALL the SAINTS in the cry: “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb!”