Church of St. Nicholas-on-the-Hudson

Jesus’ Eight-Point Sermon (July 4, 2010)

Today’s Gospel reading about Jesus sending out the seventy two-by-two brought to mind the view from our rental apartment in Harlem, which is directly across the street from an apartment that must belong to the Jehovah’s Witnesses because it’s always packed full of them.  In fact, from the view out our window, it sometimes seems like up to seventy young men are jammed into that tiny space (and since they’re Scriptural literalists, that might actually be the case)! 

But seriously, that’s the sort of Christian I imagine would be interested in passages like this one, in which Jesus instructs his followers to go from house to house spreading the Gospel.  Which may be why I’ve tended to avoid them in the past.

The sending out of the seventy disciples is actually a variation of an earlier passage in Luke’s Gospel in which Jesus sends out the twelve two-by-two with many of the same instructions he gives them here.  The number seventy might be reminiscent of the seventy elders that Moses appointed to help him with his work in the Old Testament book of Exodus; or it might be a symbol of the seventy nations that Christianity would spread out to (which would make it a sort of supplement to the sending of the twelve disciples in the earlier passage – twelve standing just for the twelve tribes of Israel, but seventy standing for all the Gentile Christians, too).

In any case, the passage gives us a glimpse into how Christianity spread so quickly in that first century.  Christians probably did knock on doors and even started house churches in some of those very homes they converted – some of these are the same house churches we read about in the New Testament book of Acts or Paul’s letters.

But unless you’re a Jehovah’s Witness, our reading can seem to carry little more than historical interest. 

On the other hand, you can also read this passage not so much as an advice manual for door-to-door evangelism, but as advice for life’s journey as a Christian, whether we chose to make knocking on doors a part of that journey or not (and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that Episcopalians generally do not!).

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Tough Talk … Sort of (June 27, 2010)

I’ve taken lately to driving past the Presbyterian Church up on route 9D to read the sermon title for the coming Sunday, which the Rev. Lindsay Borden always has out by Monday afternoon (I can’t even think of a sermon title by Sunday after the sermon’s preached, much less by Monday a week before!).

Her sermon title for this week, which I especially liked, is “Tough Talk” named for the pretty hard things Jesus says to his would-be followers in this passage.  Biblical scholars count these among what they call the “hard sayings” of Jesus, because the demands Jesus makes are so steep.  But “hard sayings” doesn’t do it nearly as much justice as “tough talk.”

So, I’m also going to say a few words about Jesus’ “tough talk” here and particularly the context in which he says it, which is, I think where the real lesson lies. 

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Homily for Ascension Sunday 2010

May 16, 2010

Today is the Sunday of the Ascension.  Ascension is a very short season in the church that goes from last Thursday, which was the day of the Ascension, to next Sunday, Pentecost Sunday.  In fact, it’s so short that, if you skip just one Sunday, you’ve missed an entire church season!  (So you’re one of those people who feel guilty for missing a Sunday, I guess this isn’t the one to miss.)

Anyway, the Ascension refers to the event where Jesus, after wandering around the earth for forty days and appearing to the disciples in his resurrected body, was taken up into heaven as they all watched.

It’s not really a big event in the church year, and that might be because there was a lot of disagreement since the earliest days of the church as to whether the Ascension even took place.

For example, the Gospel writers Matthew, Mark and John don’t mention it at all, or seem to think of it as part of the resurrection.  It’s only Luke who has Jesus walk the earth for forty days after the resurrection (that’s where we get the forty-day tradition of Easter), after which he ascends into heaven from the Mount of Olives.

Interestingly, I learned a theory this past week that Luke added the Ascension event to put a stop to people’s claims that they were seeing the resurrected Jesus.  When I explained this theory to my husband Andrew, he said it sounded like trying to stop Elvis sightings or encores – a sort of “Elvis has left the building” situation. 

But seriously, it may well have served this purpose for the early Christians, some of whom were having sightings of Jesus that got downright strange and were using them for political gain over other Christian groups.

But more than that, having Jesus go up into heaven might have served a moral purpose, as well, by helping the disciples to stop clinging to their encounters and memories of Jesus and start doing the work that he wanted them to do.

I spent this past week looking at some of the art of the Ascension – a wonderful event as far as the art is concerned.  In one of my favorites, by the 14^th century Italian painter Giotto, Jesus looks like he just took a running leap and lifted himself off into space, while, to each side a train of angels radiates out almost like smoke from a rocket.

Others are more staid.  Like an anonymous 15^th century altar piece in which Jesus is just sort of effortlessly lifting off into the air.  Or a 15^th century piece by Andrea Mantegna, where Jesus stands on a small cloud-pedestal ringed all about by little red cherub heads.

Still others seem more outright ridiculous.  My favorite in this category is by Hans Seuss von Kulmbach, in which all you can see are Jesus’ sort of scrawny feet at the very top of the frame while the disciples look on.  (That’s the one I put on your covers.)

There’s even a whole genre of Ascension art in which imprints of Jesus’ footprints are on the rock that he ascends from – and, actually, if you go to the Shrine of the Ascension outside Jerusalem, there’s a rock with footprints in it that you can venerate. 

Anyway, and in general, almost all paintings of the Ascension seem to fall into two categories – those that direct our gaze upward, at Jesus and where he’s going; and those that direct our gaze downward, at the disciples and where they (and by extension, we) are going. 

And I think that sort of gets to the different ways the Ascension has been understood over the years.  It’s either an event that points us upward toward deliverance from this world; or downward to continue Christ’s work here on earth.

In the English tradition, Ascension Day is the last day of Rogation Week – the week when the priest would bless the fields for the coming year.  In some churches, this also involved gathering up a bunch of people from the parish (parish in England is a geographical designation for a large-ish area – like a town – rather than another name for a particular church); so they would gather up people from the parish to go around the boundaries of the parish and mark them with stones colored with white chalk.

The point of this practice was for the church to mark out its sphere of social obligation – anyone within those bounds who fell ill, needed financial help, or fell on hard times for whatever reason was entitled to help from the church.  Those outside the boundaries had another church to help.  But everyone should be provided for as needed.

Meaning that the Ascension was, above all, a day to be reminded of our moral obligation for the well being of others.  So maybe the Ascension reminds us that our gaze shouldn’t be up in heaven, but on those footsteps in the rock - footsteps that we are called to follow, and footsteps that lead us on the path to compassion, charity, and justice.