Homily Transcript:                                              Good Friday  April 6, 2012                                   The Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 10:16-25; John 18:1-19:42

 From John’s Gospel, “(Jesus) said, ‘It is finished.’Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

      "It is finished. It has ended. It is accomplished." Regardless of which gospel translation we read on this Good Friday, our Lord’s own words tell us that something of infinite importance happened on the cross. 

      But, for the people gathered at Golgotha on that first “Good” Friday nearly two thousand years ago, all seemed lost. For them, their hopes of redemption and the re-establishment of the throne of David in their lifetime seem but a dream – all is lost. Jesus is dead. It is finished. It has ended. It is accomplished. We think little of these words because we know the rest of the story: we know what will take place in the next few days. But for now, in this moment, what  is finished?

      Christians speak of this death of our Lord as an act of atonement for the sins of the whole world. For some, Christ’s atoning death has appeased the anger of a just God who demanded that someone pay for our rebellion against God. For others, this atoning death is a ransoming of humanity’s souls from the clutches of Satan. And still, for many more people, the thought that a loving God would require the brutal death of his own Son makes them question what kind of God would allow such to happen. There is no doubt in my mind that those who stood at the foot of the cross on the hill we call Calvary, wondered what is finished? Our faith? Our belief in a merciful God? Our hopes for redemption?

      For many Christians gathering throughout the world this evening, Good Friday is more about the resurrection and our atonement than the suffering and death of our Lord. But, if we are truly reliving this Holy Week as if it is happening for the first time, then we, too, stand with those at the cross and we wonder. Our Lord’s words ring in the ears of Mary, the Magdalene, James and John, even Peter, a Centurion, and countless others. What do you mean Lord? You have taught us to love our neighbors as our selves, to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, body and strength. You have taught us that in caring for and meeting the needs of others, we demonstrate the purest love - God’s love. But what kind of God would do this to you?  How is it possible that this day, of all days, will come to be called “Good?”
    
     The Rev. Rick Morley describes Good Friday as the “day when we enter into the reality that Jesus – our friend, rabbi, and Lord – was betrayed, denied, arrested, spat upon, laughed at, whipped, and nailed to a cross and left to die in the heat of the day – naked and practically alone. And that death – the death of the one of whom we sang beautiful carols celebrating his birth just a few short months ago – breaks my heart. It stings. When I close my eyes and I see his eyes, I ache. When I hear his words, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ I ask the same question. And when I see his bloody and broken corpse unstuck from the cross, hastily prepared and shut into a tomb …. No theory of atonement makes it easier.” What is finished? What has ended? What has been accomplished?

      My friends, as you pray the prayers and participate in this night’s liturgy, ask that question and open your ears and your hearts for God’s answer. Because the answer is  about God’s love - a love willing to suffer and die for us. It is a love that is willing to risk everything in order to “atone” – to make “at one” – God and creation once more. Lord, teach us to understand what was finished and perhaps, even more important, what new beginning  you are calling us to seek, embrace, and live. Amen.

Homily Transcript:  April 5, 2012;                        Maundy Thursday;                                           Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings: Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14a; Psalm 116:1, 10-17; I Cor. 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31b-35

 From John’s gospel, “(Jesus said), ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 
 
      In this past Sunday’s sermon, I stated that God’s unconditional love is the message of Holy Week. And it is in these next three days - the “Great Triduum"   – the Great Three Days of the Christian year which begin tonight – that we will explore the depths of God’s unconditional love and its difficult call to us. 
 
      Our readings from scripture this evening speak of the Passover meal, the Last Supper, and our Lord’s issuance of a new commandment – a new Mandatum  – a new mandate from which we get the word “Maundy” – a new commandment. And yet, that commandment is not  new, but rather, how we are called to live  it is, indeed, new and it is difficult. 
 
      Millions of Christians around the world this evening have gathered to commemorate the events of our Lord’s Passion.  And yet, when we say that we gather to commemorate these things, this is not simply a remembering of things past, but rather, it is a re-living  of these events. We bring them forward into our present moment as if they are unfolding before our very eyes for the first time. In Greek, this action is called anamnesis  which means to make something a present and living reality. It is how we celebrate the Eucharist each week because our table fellowship together is more than a memorial: it is the sharing of bread and wine in the very presence of Christ who, himself, becomes that bread and wine; and as it is broken for us; we taste and see God’s unconditional love once more.

      This bringing forward into the present is the experience of Jews at every Passover Meal. As we heard from Exodus, the meal is forever consumed in haste recalling how the Hebrew people, dressed and ready to flee from bondage in Egypt, paused to eat what would become a sacred meal and, in the process, were spared from death.  We, too, gather this evening on the occasion of our Lord’s celebration of the Passover feast to share bread and wine that has become the very Body and Blood of Christ who, on this night, offered up his very self for us and the world to spare us from eternal  bondage to sin and eternal  death. Christ himself becomes our Passover feast.  

      I have always found Jesus’ words, “I give you a new commandment” to be a rather puzzling statement because his words are not  something new. Jewish writing for centuries before Christ had stressed that loving neighbor and each other was part and parcel of loving God in accordance with God’s commandments. Where this commandment becomes new is in its understanding that we are to love as “I have loved you ” as “God  has loved you.” A love that is unconditional: in spite of our pathetic shortfalls – the love of God abides forever – it is ours for the taking and embracing. It is a love that always welcomes us home even as prodigals. It is a love that corrects us when in error; a love that chides us to understand that loving each other means feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the stranger and alien, visiting the prisoners, protecting the oppressed, and giving comfort to the sick. It is a love that is willing to go to the cross and die in order that some might live: it is a sacrificial love that makes no distinction about who is worthy to receive it: it is a love that doesn’t care about your race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, marital or economic status: it is God’s unconditional love and it is wonderful to hear about and yet, so very difficult to live every moment of every day.

      Perhaps that is why Peter had such difficulty with Jesus’ words in tonight’s gospel reading. Peter says, “Lord, you will never  wash my feet.” In other words, “I will not allow you, my master and teacher, to do the work of a slave because it would mean that I have to get off my high horse and recognize that I am no better than anyone else.” In ancient Palestine, it was slaves who washed the feet of others.  Slaves: not co-workers or teachers, masters, or even younger brothers and sisters, but rather, those who were bought and sold; those who were considered less than human; those considered to be the lowest form of life. Jesus demonstrates that true love –God’s love - makes no such distinction: we are called to serve all whom we meet: to wash each other’s feet as Christ has washed ours. And that’s the hard part for us. 

      We are very comfortable sharing bread and wine with each other in the Communion and we embrace that Christ is present in that bread and wine. We come and receive of him and our souls are quickened at every Eucharistic meal and yet, my friends, to turn and stoop down to wash another’s feet is so very difficult for us because it means recognizing that God shows no  partiality: we are all  sinners in God’s sight worthy of death and yet God still loves us. As our opening to tonight’s reading from John’s gospel says, “Having loved his own who were in the world, (Jesus) loved them to the end.” And we, too, are called to love others even to the end as “I have loved you,” as “God” has loved you. 
 
     These next three days are filled with opportunities for personal devotion and congregational gathering to witness to the Christ who died for our sins and the sins of the whole world. And yet, my brothers and sisters, without love – without God’s love in us – our actions over these days become nothing more than an empty re-enactment of something from the past. May God open our hearts and minds to grasp that we are called to love as God loves: A love that hangs forever before us in the symbol of the Cross. And recognize that when we love as God loves, as the song we will sing a few moments says, “God himself is there” present beside us and in us. 
 
      Jesus said, “By this everyone will know you are my disciples;” (Not by your works of power or achievement; not by your pedigree; not by performing great miracles or producing signs and wonders; no.) “By this  everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love – God’s love – my love – for one another. That is the new commandment we are called to embrace. And we begin to live it this evening with washing one another’s feet.

     May God teach us how to love without condition and, in so doing, teach us that God’s people are servants of all. Amen. 

Homily Transcript:  April 1, 2012;             The Sunday of the Passion;                                                   Rev. R. Allan McCaslin
Readings:  Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Mark 12:28-34a

From Mark’s gospel,  “The scribe said, ‘Teacher…to love (God) … and to love one’s neighbor as oneself’ … is much more important than all … burnt-offerings and sacrifices.’” I speak to you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
 
      Earlier this week, our Bishop reflected on his sadness at the pictures of Christians kneeling in prayer on the steps of the Supreme Court building in Washington, D.C. It’s not their praying that saddened him, but rather, that they were asking for God to intervene and overturn the law regarding health care insurance. Regardless of where you might stand on the issue of universal healthcare, like our Bishop, I wonder if such a picture truly demonstrates our promise to seek and serve Christ in every human being; our call to understand that loving God means loving and caring for each other. 

       The reality is that, somehow, many Christians today have lost sight of their responsibility to each other. They have lost sight of the transformative power of Christ that should move our focus and mission beyond our own selves. Instead, they have recreated and reshaped our faith into a simple personal relationship with God and, in the process, seem to have turned their backs on everyone else.  Is it any wonder then that when you tell people you are a Christian, many bristle and make negative comments? Diana Butler Bass, in her recent book, “Christianity after Religion ” – a surprisingly insightful and well-researched book – noted that many people outside the church and even within it describe religion (especially Christianity) as “cold, rigid, hurtful, narrow, controlling, embarrassing, and mean.” (Bass, p. 70) Is this an accurate picture of what our faith really is?

      In today’s reading from Isaiah, we hear words about teaching and hearing, using words in ways that will sustain the weary and build them up; not beat them down. Our reading from Philippians speaks about Christ’s humility in emptying himself and becoming obedient to God in all things. I suggest that if we are truly Christ-like; truly like him whom we say has redeemed us, then we, too, should be known by our  humility, obedience, and willingness to empty ourselves of all pretense in order that God might work in and through our lives.