Phillips Brooks on Jesus' Effect on His Disciples

Phillips Brooks (1835-1893) was one of the great preachers and leaders of the Episcopal Church. He was the Bishop of the Diocese of Massachusetts. He wrote the classic Christmas carol, O Little Town of Bethlehem. He also attended seminary at my alma mater, Virginia Theological Seminary.  Here is a portion of a sermon Brooks preached on Matthew 26:21-22 in which he reflects on how it is that Jesus’ disciples might each wonder if he was the one who would betray him. They asked, ‘Is it I?”

It must have been that their life with him had deepened the sense of the mystery of their lives. They had seen themselves, in intercourse with him, as capable of much more profound and variable spiritual experiences than they had thought possible before. And this possible life, this possible experience, had run in both directions up and down. They had recognized a before unknown capacity for holiness, and they had seen also a before unknown power of wickedness. Their sluggishness had been broken up, and they had seen that they were capable of divine things. Their self-satisfied pride had been broken up, and they had seen that they were capable of brutal things. Heaven and hell had opened above their heads and below their feet. They had not thought it incredible when Christ said, ‘I go to prepare a place for you, and I will come again and receive you to myself,’ now they did not think it incredible when he said, ‘One of you shall betray me.’ The life with Christ had melted the ice in which they had been frozen, and they felt it in them either to rise to the sky or to sink into the depths. That was and that always is Christ’s revelation of the possibilities of life.
(Philips Brooks: Selected Sermons,
           William Scarlett, ed., p. 151)

As Rain Falls on the Earth

For the eighth day of Christmas, the Feast of the Holy Name, something from St. Hesychios (8th or 9th century) whose writing can be found in the Philokalia:

The more the rain falls on the earth, the softer it makes it; similarly, the holy name of Jesus gladdens the earth of our heart the more we call upon it.

(Watchfulness and Holiness)

The Ninth Day of Christmas: The Double-Movement of the Incarnation  

First Day of Christmas: How God Brings His Love to Bear

God’s Love is Not Enough

A Sermon
Numbers 21:4-9, Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22,
Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21

"For God so loved the world . . ."

I saw a bumper sticker a while back that said, “God loves you. No exceptions.” I believe this is so. And I believe just accepting that can be life-changing (see here). It makes a huge difference to understand that, when God looks upon you, it is with eyes of love. I know there are some among us who have mental tapes recorded deeply in their minds telling them that they are not lovable. And I appreciate that the sentiment of the bumper sticker is addressing the reality that there are groups of people who have been made to feel that they are somehow the exception to God’s love. So it is important to remember that when Jesus said, “God so loved the world,” that does not leave anyone out. “God so loved the world” - no exceptions.

But, I also need to say that the bumper sticker is inadequate. Wonderful as it is, God’s love is not enough.

Just before the justly famous line in John 3:16, Jesus says, "Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” What’s that about? Clearly, it is a reference to the passage from the book of Numbers that we heard read a moment ago:

From Mount Hor the Israelites set out by the way to the Red Sea, to go around the land of Edom; but the people became impatient on the way. The people spoke against God and against Moses, "Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food." Then the LORD sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, "We have sinned by speaking against the LORD and against you; pray to the LORD to take away the serpents from us." So Moses prayed for the people. And the LORD said to Moses, "Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live." So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live. – Numbers 21:4-9

It’s a strange passage in lots of ways. But, let’s start by reviewing the context. Israel was enslaved in Egypt. They were miserable. God heard their cry, called Moses to lead them, and through a series of miracles delivered them from their bondage, setting them on the path to the Promised Land. Soon after they became impatient and ungrateful and began to complain about how God was managing their deliverance. We have here an example of that complaining.

"Why have you brought us up out of Egypt?”

“Well, because you asked me to. And because I love you and desire your good.”

“To die in the wilderness?”

“So far I have provided for you at every turn, haven’t I?”

“There is no food and no water.” That is an outright lie – or willful forgetting. God has miraculously provided water. God has rained down upon them the wonder of manna, "the grain of heaven", for their nourishment and quail as well.

“We detest this miserable food." Now we’re getting a little closer to the truth. It’s not that they have no food, but that they are dissatisfied with the food God has provided. And so they declare their displeasure. I wonder if the serpents are not an outward and visible manifestation of the inward and spiritual impatience and ingratitude. But, God provides a means of healing through the bronze serpent attached to a pole for the people to look upon and be healed.

That is the story in Numbers. But, since Jesus suggests that we read this story metaphorically as a type or analogy of what he accomplishes on the cross, what might it be saying about us and about the Son of Man?

First of all, we can say that the attitude of the Hebrews in the wilderness is, as usual, representative of the attitude of each of us. Are we not impatient with God and one another? An early church theologian, Ephrem the Syrian, suggested that impatience might be the sin that started it all. He wrote that God all along intended us to have a share in his divinity. But, Adam and Eve, at the suggestion of the serpent, were impatient with God’s timing and seized the fruit the serpent promised would make them like God.

Are we not often ungrateful? Discontent with enough and more than enough? Are we not inclined to believe we are our own and what we own is ours alone? But, in a little while we will repeat these words that should always be on our hearts, “All things come of thee O Lord. And of Thine own have we given Thee.” All things. All that I am and all that I have, moment by moment, I receive from God – whether I receive it gratefully or not. All creation and every person I encounter is the gift of God to be received with gratitude. But much of the time I turn my heart from God and from most others. I detest this miserable food.

Like Adam and Eve we listen to the serpent in our impatience with God and the way our lives and others are unfolding and our ingratitude for all God has given us. And as with Israel, that turning of our hearts gives birth to the serpents of sin in our hearts, the poisonous serpents of our own impatience and ingratitude, our own envy and enmity. The serpents of our own hearts bite us and bite those around us. What’s more, we become addicted to the poison. Like an alcoholic, we are addicted to the very thing that causes us to perish. This might sound harsh, but that is because we take too lightly our own failure to attend to God and to one another, our failure to love, our lack of true generosity and hospitality. And when we turn our hearts from God, our hearts begin to breed the serpents of sin. And we perish.

And here’s the thing. We are beset by the serpents of our own making. And worse, we are addicted to the poison of our own serpents. Like alcoholics we are unable to help ourselves. That is why hearing that God loves us with no exceptions isn’t enough. If I am trapped at the bottom of a pit full of rattle snakes, having someone shout from the top, “I love you,” isn’t all I need. Even if that one jumps into the pit with me to tell me how much I am loved, that only does me so much good. No, I need someone who can extract the poison. I need an antidote. I need someone who will come into my heart and drive out the serpents like Patrick drove the snakes out of Ireland. We need God to “take away the serpents from us.”

And, my friends, as William Temple wrote,

This is the heart of the Gospel, not, ‘God is Love’ – a precious truth, but affirming no divine act for our redemption. God so loved that he gave; of course the words indicate the cost to the Father’s heart. He gave; it was an act, not only a continuing mood of generosity, it was an act at a particular time and place. - Readings in John's Gospel

"Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so was the Son of Man lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” God has provided the means of our redemption, our deliverance, our healing, and our restoration. God does not love us and leave us as we are, beset by the serpents of our hearts. He has acted on our behalf to drive out the snakes and heal us of their venom. Crux Est Mundi Medicina – the cross is the medicine of the world. “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ”(Ephesians 2:4).

God loves you. No exceptions. But the really good news is, "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

You need only turn your heart to him and in trusting belief receive the gift of God.

Radical Centrist Manifesto III

II. Centered on Jesus, the Cross and Resurrection, Part 1

At the center is the cross which stands as God’s great and fundamental challenge to all our usual ways of thinking and believing.

As a centrist, I hope to live at the center in the shadow of the cross knowing that the shadow is cast by the light of the resurrection.

I have written before o the significance of the cross and Jesus’ sacrifice there. I have also written on the significance of the resurrection (empty tomb and all) and why it matters. These are central. If you want to try to get around them or domesticate them one way or another to fit a different way of seeing the world, God bless you, but you are working from a different center.

Living in the shadow of the cross means being centered in Jesus – the only Son of God, the incarnation of the second person of the Trinity, the Messiah – sent by God to free us from the power of sin, so that we might be restored to “harmony with God, within ourselves, with our neighbors, and with all creation” (BCP p. 849). Jesus presents the world with challenges some of which I identified in the first post of this series. But, he also presents us with promises:

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." – Matthew 11:29

"If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." John 8:31-32

"These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full." – John 15:11

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." – John 14:27

"I came that they may have life, and have it to the full. – John 10:10

I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live." John 11:25

"Where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them." – Matthew 18:20

I want to sink my spirit into the center of Jesus’ rest, anticipating the eternal Sabbath – a sabbath rest which, according to Maximus the Confessor is “a quieting of the movement of passions” (the agitations of the spirit related to the seven deadly sins - pride, enmity, envy, etc.).

I want to sink my spirit into the center of Jesus’ truth – truth about God and the world, the truth about humanity and the truth (good, bad, ugly and beautiful) about me.

I want to sink my spirit into the center of Jesus’ freedom – freedom from fear, anxiousness, impatience, vexation, the passions of sin. And freedom for love.

I want to sink my spirit into the center of Jesus’ joy so it permeates my being. I want to smuggle that joy into the world.

I want to sink my spirit into the center of Jesus’ peace – deep inner peace and equilibrium. Living out of that center, I want to live as a peacemaker.

I want to sink my spirit into the center of Jesus' life that my life might be full - may his Spirit heal me of whatever in me gets in the way of that fullness. And may my life be caught up in his life which is transfigured and eternal. And may I seek the fullness and flourishing of the life of others.

I want to sink my spirit into the center of Jesus’ resurrection – to live knowing that “our death is already behind us, and our resurrection before us" as Ephrem of Edessa has it, and to live now into the expectation of the new creation inaugurated in Jesus trusting that the fullness of its realization is in his trustworthy hands.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me." John 14:-2

I want to practice disciplines that will develop habits of thinking and being that will draw me deeper into that center which is Jesus Christ. Most everything else is peripheral.

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Beyond Velcro and Teflon, there is a Shepherd

When we are confronted with the mystery that is God we tend to make one of two common mistakes. Both are ways we try to avoid coming to grips with the mystery and to avoid the mystery coming to grips with us.

The first mistake is to presume mastery over the mystery. It is to believe that we have God somehow captured, somehow defined, such that when we say “God” we think we know exactly what we are talking about. We presume that every name and definition we throw at God sticks. It is as if God is made of Velcro. It is the way of various fundamentalisms. And it is rooted in fear. It is an attempt protect ourselves from the ambiguity of mystery by building walls of certainty.

But, there is no such certainty. God is not made of Velcro. Not every name, every image, every definition, no matter how good, that we throw at God sticks. And God is always more than and, in a profound way, other than, all our images and definitions and names for God.

If all images and definitions of God fall short, perhaps it is better to say that all the names for God are off the mark and no one really knows. Perhaps if we take the mystery seriously we should acknowledge that we do not know all that much about God. Perhaps we should accept that all names, images, and words for God are more or less right and more or less wrong. This has in fact become a popular approach. Some people stop using the word “God” because even that is too definite. It has become fashionable in some circles to refer to the “Sacred” or the “Holy.” One popular writer suggests that what we call “God” is the “something more” about reality. In this understanding all of the particular names and ways of understanding the divine are more or less equal human attempts to address the mystery. We throw names, words, and definitions at the mystery, but none of them sticks. It is as if God is made of Teflon.

But there are problems with the Teflon understanding. For one thing it surrenders too much to agnosticism which leaves us knowing nothing about the mystery. But, it also masks a desire to prevent the mystery from having any mastery over us. When people say they don’t care what you name God, what they usually seem to mean is, “I don’t care what you name God, as long as the God you name supports and endorses those things that I consider most important. I don’t care if you name God “Allah”, or “Yahweh”, or “Vishnu”, as long as the God you name supports what I hold most dear and considers obvious what I consider obvious, and reprehensible what I consider reprehensible.

Another problem with the Tephlon approach is that it leaves us in charge of the ambiguity. We tend to find ambiguity where it is convenient – in those areas that don’t mean much to us. If God is Teflon and no name sticks we are left with the prejudices we have picked up elsewhere. God-talk becomes merely a way to give our biases extra gravitas. Thus, as with the Velcro understanding, speaking as though God is made of Teflon is, in its own way, also a kind of hiding. If God is all ambiguity, then none of my most firmly held values or prejudices are challenged. My political and cultural assumptions are safe. My ideological prejudices are unassailable. It is possible to hide from the mystery behind walls of certainty. It is also possible to hide in a fog of ambiguity.

If the mystery at the heart of it all is not Velcro or Teflon, what might be a better understanding? What if, out of the mystery, God has made a gate in our walls and come searching for us in our fog to call us out and lead us deeper into the mystery? We might then have some direction and some knowledge, but we would not pretend to have mastery over the mystery. God does not give us certainty. God does not leave us guessing. God gives us Jesus, the Good Shepherd.

It is important to remember that God is mystery. An attitude of humility is essential and all of our knowing is partial. But, Christians believe God has not remained utterly unknown. If Jesus is the Good Shepherd, then we begin to have some idea of the paths we should follow. If the Good Shepherd laid down his life for us, we ought to lay down our lives for one another. We will not demand the lives of others to protect own security or way of life. We will understand the world’s goods as things to be shared. We have some idea of what it means for us to love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. And that will reassure our hearts.

If Jesus is the Good Shepherd we are faced with a decision. Do we risk following him into the mystery or not? We live in a society in which to choose one way over others and suggest it is nearer the truth is offensive. But, there is really no escaping it. Sooner or later, we choose something or someone, some principal or ideology, to shepherd our thoughts and actions – whether we name it “God” or “the Sacred” or “Spirit” or something else. Choosing Jesus, and claiming Jesus as the Good Shepherd, is no more presumptuous or arbitrary than choosing any other idea to shape our lives. And following Jesus as the Good Shepherd does lead to some conclusions about the nature of the mystery of God. The Church has summarized those conclusions in the Creeds. At the heart of the Creeds is Jesus who calls us by name and calls us to follow. That call is a challenge to all our usual ways of thinking and being. We cannot hide in ambiguity and fill the mystery with our own definitions. If we want to be led along right pathways through the valley of the shadow of death, there is no better shepherd than Jesus, the Good Shepherd.

Still, if we follow Jesus out of the fog of ambiguity he does not lead us behind walls of certainty. God remains a mystery, neither Velcro nor Teflon. What we are offered is humble confidence. If Jesus is the Good Shepherd, we can have confidence that, following him, we are headed in the right direction. He will lead us to still water and green pasture.

Jesus, the Good Shepherd, has come to us from the Mystery at the heart of it all to lead us back, ever more deeply into that Mystery. The Good Shepherd does not come to grant us the security of certainty. Nor does the Good Shepherd allow us to avoid the risk choosing. But, the Good Shepherd does call us to lie down in green pastures and leads us beside still waters. The Good Shepherd does lead us along right pathways for his Name’s sake. Jesus comes to us and calls, “Come out, come out, wherever you are. Come out from behind your walls. Come out of the fog. Follow me into the open country of faith. It is for us to decide whether or not we will follow.

God's Yes

John Lennon was murdered twenty years ago this month. I am reminded of a radio interview I heard in the wake of that tragedy in which Lennon recalled how he met Yoko Ono. He had been invited by friend to a conceptual-art show. He found one piece of the exhibit particularly intriguing. It was a step ladder that led to a magnifying glass hanging from the ceiling. Lennon climbed the ladder. He looked through the magnifying glass at a placard taped to the ceiling which had one tiny word on it – yes. Moved by this small declaration of hope, Lennon found the artist – Yoko Ono – and the rest, as they say, is history.

Tomorrow’s gospel begins to move our attention from anticipation of Advent season to the celebration of the actual advent of Jesus who is also Emmanuel, God with us. Like that hopeful word that so moved John Lennon, the word God spoke in speaking the Word into the quiet of Mary’s womb, into the insignificant manger in little Bethlehem, and hence into the world, was God’s “Yes” to humanity. The Incarnation affirms the fundamental goodness of being human with all our vulnerability and awkwardness. There is no aspect of authentic human experience, however mundane, that is not blessed and honored by the divine enfleshment. At the heart of it all is not silence or indifference, but an exultant and relentless Yes. God has created us to hear that yes and in the Incarnation declared us unequivocally worthy of his attention and fellowship.

To be sure, from our earliest days, humans have responded by ignoring or rejecting God's Yes and preferring to speak our own yes to ourselves for ourselves. But we are unable to speak yes on our own and our self-referential yes invariable fragments into myriad no's resulting in the incoherence of sin. To the obstinate “no” of human violence, selfishness, pride, and greed – of all that refuses God’s Yes – we hear a terrifying and resolute “No!” Our “no” and God’s “No!” finally meet in Jesus on the cross. The human no is answered by God’s No! and, in the resurrection of Jesus on Easter morning, God’s fundamental Yes to humanity (indeed, to all creation) is reasserted.

In the end, we will only be able to hear God’s Yes if we are first willing to hear the No! to all that in us contradicts that Yes. That is the way of repentance of which we have already heard in Advent. Faith is our yes in response to God’s Yes proclaimed in Jesus Christ. As the 20th century Swedish theologian, Gustaf Aulen, wrote, “In spite of timidity, faith is the soul’s audacious yes to God” (The Faith of the Christian Church, p. 29).

There are but two commandments:
1. You shall say, “Yes” to the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.
2. You shall speak “Yes” to your neighbor as you yourself have heard “Yes” spoken to you.

May we prepare to hear again God’s Yes spoken in Jesus, God with us, come to save his people from their sins. "For in him every one of God's promises is a "Yes." For this reason it is through him that we say the "Amen," to the glory of God" (2 Corinthians 1:20).