Disbelieving for Joy
M10
Acts 3:12-19
Ps. 4
1 Jn. 3:1-7
Lk. 24:36b-48
“And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered… he opened their minds to understand the scriptures…” Luke 24
I learned this week that three million Americans believe that aliens visit this planet in UFO’s. At the same time there are 2.2 million Episcopalians. This leads me to ask, what are the aliens doing that we are not doing?
It is so easy to find fault with the church, to criticize our failed good intentions or our constant struggle just to get organized. We haven’t done that much to feed hungry people or to advocate for the poor. Furthermore, we don’t handle the holy well. Sometimes we priests come to God with a false kind of professionalism a pompous dignity that keeps the radically transformative work of the spirit at arm’s lengths.
Other times we probably look more like a circus act, forgetting that our microphones are on, missing cues, saying the wrong things, interrupting each other and talking too fast. Sometimes we present you with unsingable hymns and jump around the prayer book as if we were administering a wacky intelligence test. The truth is that for most people church can at times be boring. There should be a disclaimer in the bulletin that says you should not operate heavy machinery while participating in worship.
When I was a child I thought that in Jesus’ time things were different, but the closer I read the scriptures the more human the disciples seem. When they see the risen Christ they don’t conclude that God’s kingdom is breaking into the world. They are startled and frightened. They don’t believe. They disagree. Because some of them think he is a kind of ghost, he invites them to see and touch him. Even then they still disbelieved for joy and wondered. Jesus goes to the absurd length of showing them that he can eat broiled fish.
Then he teaches them. The Bible says that he opens “their minds to understand the scriptures.” In this life and in resurrected life Jesus looks deeply into their souls. He sees what they most long for. He understands the part of them that stands between them and true joy. He shows them how their relationships can be healed, how God can restore their lives. Imagine someone who knows you so well that he or she can heal your soul. Imagine being part of a group of people who are on fire with the Holy Spirit.
What would it take for us to believe? Or more importantly what can we do to help others to have their lives transformed by Jesus? We accomplish both these tasks when we become better at telling our stories and at listening for connections between our lives and those of the people around us. The German thinker Max Weber described modern life in an industrial society as an “iron cage.” I believe that one of the effects of our hectic times is that it suppresses our stories, even the stories of our salvation.
Last night at a family party I had the blessed opportunity to spend a few hours with Melia’s godfather Mario who is a law professor at Miami University. I told him that as a citizen I was alarmed that the number of people incarcerated in this county has quadrupled in only twenty years. If our Gross Domestic Product or the population of San Francisco, or the size of our own family or unemployment rates or any almost any other figure like these had changed so dramatically in such a short time, I would want to know what caused it.
I asked, “Is the legal profession taking concerted action to address this serious problem.” It amazes me that he said, “No.” I asked him about the causes of this phenomenon. He said that mandatory sentencing rules, heavy prison terms for relatively minor drug crimes, increasing poverty all have contributed to this, along with a far more retributive approach to justice that is not at all concerned with rehabilitating prisoners. In Europe many nations simply address the drug problem differently. In Europe there is less violence associated with property crime than here and this also reduces prison terms.
Mario talked about the experience of going through the court system. Police in this country are allowed to lie, to say that they have witnesses to your actions when they don’t, to say that they will arrest your family when they can’t. In one famous case police told an unusually dim-witted suspect that the fax machine was a lie detector and convicted him on the basis of this confession.
Mario told me that the purpose of this is to force a suspect to fit into categories, into preconceived stories that this system uses to simplify the process of administering justice. In that world the details of your story are erased and your identity gets compressed so that you are merely an African American involved in urban drug culture, or a suburban white-collar criminal, or an Islamic terrorist.
He told me that if your crime is especially heinous they will listen more carefully to the details of your story and if you have a lot of money to hire legal experts they will too.
Millie Simpson was an elderly African American domestic servant who lived in Newark, New Jersey and commuted out to the wealthy suburbs by bus. She had an old car in her driveway that she never drove. One day an acquaintance took the car without asking and was involved in a hit and run accident. A witness identified her license plate and she was brought before the court. The first judge was only interested in her plea. After hearing that she claimed not to be driving the car, the judge entered her plea as not guilty.
The next judge interrupted Simpson when she tried to explain what happened. Even though her public defender was out of the room and he didn’t see any evidence, he ruled that she was guilty and sentenced her to a fine, community service and revoked her license. Because of the community service Simpson could no longer work after hours for one of her suburban clients. They needed her so badly that they hired a lawyer who went before the same judge and had the previous sentence dismissed. Simpson was quoted as saying, “I couldn’t understand what [the judge] was saying… I didn’t know what he was talking about.” Simpson's employer, however, had a different comment on Simpson's legal experiences: "[T]his was 'the typical story of American racism. To get justice, the poor black woman needs a rich white lady."
This is not an exception. Mario’s point was that part of the problem is that institutionally and through culture our criminal justice system and society in general suppress our individual stories.
I sometimes think that it is unfortunate that you did not know me before I became a priest. Mostly this means that you are in the habit of thinking that I am different than you. I sometimes wonder how this affects the way that we talk about Jesus together. At my class reunion last summer, although the people who really knew me expected it, most of my old friends from high school were surprised to learn that I had been ordained. Many of them learn only about Christianity from television dramas. Few of us have had much experience with younger clergy.
After the Vietnam War the leaders of my home diocese thought that there were too many priests. They stopped ordaining people who were in their twenties. They told young people to go and have another career and then come back to the church with their wisdom. There are many great second career priests. But this policy effectively told the world that the spirituality, the faith stories, of young people was less important.
I grew up in a community of people who firmly believed otherwise. St. Martin’s Episcopal church in Davis included me as a teenager in adult Christian education programs. They insisted that I serve as an acolyte and gave me the responsibility of teaching Sunday School for younger kids. When I expressed an interest in being ordained they supported me through the process and cut through the red tape that could have held me back. Most of all they always listened to my story and saw its connection to the Bible.
Jesus is not present in a general way. The Holy Spirit is not vague. These are the tangible ways that I saw God at work in the world. When my friends or I needed help, when I was tempted to go astray, God was saving me through the church.
I bring this up because I feel Jesus more and more present at Christ Church every day. In the holiness of the Lent that we shared together, through our ministry at Ventana School and Rebuilding Together, in the care we show to sick and suffering people, God is here. At the retreat last week four year old Melia Young and Lynn Saunders painted a picture together and what was most beautiful about that picture was that as they did it they shared their stories.
In a world which suppresses the unique stories of individuals, we are finding our voice. I want to ask you to do more to tell your story about God’s grace to people who have not yet discovered Christ Church. This is not to tell them that the way they see the world is wrong, but to let them know there is a place where their stories can be faithfully heard. Invite your friends to church. We are ready to receive them.
Someone once asked a French poet, “if the Louvre Museum were burning and you could only choose one work of art which one would you save?” He replied, “I would choose the fire.” In your life and your calling as a child of God be free to choose the fire. Allow yourself to be the way that God transforms the world. Let go of the stories that others tell about you which imprison or control your life-giving spirit. Let the risen Christ appear to you and appear in you, even when you are confused or afraid. Then we shall “be called children of God” and “when he appears we will be like him” (1 John 3).
___________________________
The first example and the concluding one about the Louvre Museum came from the presentations that various bishop candidates made during this week. The first came from Bonnie Perry quoting Jonathan Jensen. The second was from Marc Andrus.
Mario Lamont Barnes, “Black Women’s Stories and the Criminal Law: Restating the Power of Narrative,” 39 U.C. DAVIS L. REV.
Acts 3:12-19
Ps. 4
1 Jn. 3:1-7
Lk. 24:36b-48
“And while they still disbelieved for joy, and wondered… he opened their minds to understand the scriptures…” Luke 24
I learned this week that three million Americans believe that aliens visit this planet in UFO’s. At the same time there are 2.2 million Episcopalians. This leads me to ask, what are the aliens doing that we are not doing?
It is so easy to find fault with the church, to criticize our failed good intentions or our constant struggle just to get organized. We haven’t done that much to feed hungry people or to advocate for the poor. Furthermore, we don’t handle the holy well. Sometimes we priests come to God with a false kind of professionalism a pompous dignity that keeps the radically transformative work of the spirit at arm’s lengths.
Other times we probably look more like a circus act, forgetting that our microphones are on, missing cues, saying the wrong things, interrupting each other and talking too fast. Sometimes we present you with unsingable hymns and jump around the prayer book as if we were administering a wacky intelligence test. The truth is that for most people church can at times be boring. There should be a disclaimer in the bulletin that says you should not operate heavy machinery while participating in worship.
When I was a child I thought that in Jesus’ time things were different, but the closer I read the scriptures the more human the disciples seem. When they see the risen Christ they don’t conclude that God’s kingdom is breaking into the world. They are startled and frightened. They don’t believe. They disagree. Because some of them think he is a kind of ghost, he invites them to see and touch him. Even then they still disbelieved for joy and wondered. Jesus goes to the absurd length of showing them that he can eat broiled fish.
Then he teaches them. The Bible says that he opens “their minds to understand the scriptures.” In this life and in resurrected life Jesus looks deeply into their souls. He sees what they most long for. He understands the part of them that stands between them and true joy. He shows them how their relationships can be healed, how God can restore their lives. Imagine someone who knows you so well that he or she can heal your soul. Imagine being part of a group of people who are on fire with the Holy Spirit.
What would it take for us to believe? Or more importantly what can we do to help others to have their lives transformed by Jesus? We accomplish both these tasks when we become better at telling our stories and at listening for connections between our lives and those of the people around us. The German thinker Max Weber described modern life in an industrial society as an “iron cage.” I believe that one of the effects of our hectic times is that it suppresses our stories, even the stories of our salvation.
Last night at a family party I had the blessed opportunity to spend a few hours with Melia’s godfather Mario who is a law professor at Miami University. I told him that as a citizen I was alarmed that the number of people incarcerated in this county has quadrupled in only twenty years. If our Gross Domestic Product or the population of San Francisco, or the size of our own family or unemployment rates or any almost any other figure like these had changed so dramatically in such a short time, I would want to know what caused it.
I asked, “Is the legal profession taking concerted action to address this serious problem.” It amazes me that he said, “No.” I asked him about the causes of this phenomenon. He said that mandatory sentencing rules, heavy prison terms for relatively minor drug crimes, increasing poverty all have contributed to this, along with a far more retributive approach to justice that is not at all concerned with rehabilitating prisoners. In Europe many nations simply address the drug problem differently. In Europe there is less violence associated with property crime than here and this also reduces prison terms.
Mario talked about the experience of going through the court system. Police in this country are allowed to lie, to say that they have witnesses to your actions when they don’t, to say that they will arrest your family when they can’t. In one famous case police told an unusually dim-witted suspect that the fax machine was a lie detector and convicted him on the basis of this confession.
Mario told me that the purpose of this is to force a suspect to fit into categories, into preconceived stories that this system uses to simplify the process of administering justice. In that world the details of your story are erased and your identity gets compressed so that you are merely an African American involved in urban drug culture, or a suburban white-collar criminal, or an Islamic terrorist.
He told me that if your crime is especially heinous they will listen more carefully to the details of your story and if you have a lot of money to hire legal experts they will too.
Millie Simpson was an elderly African American domestic servant who lived in Newark, New Jersey and commuted out to the wealthy suburbs by bus. She had an old car in her driveway that she never drove. One day an acquaintance took the car without asking and was involved in a hit and run accident. A witness identified her license plate and she was brought before the court. The first judge was only interested in her plea. After hearing that she claimed not to be driving the car, the judge entered her plea as not guilty.
The next judge interrupted Simpson when she tried to explain what happened. Even though her public defender was out of the room and he didn’t see any evidence, he ruled that she was guilty and sentenced her to a fine, community service and revoked her license. Because of the community service Simpson could no longer work after hours for one of her suburban clients. They needed her so badly that they hired a lawyer who went before the same judge and had the previous sentence dismissed. Simpson was quoted as saying, “I couldn’t understand what [the judge] was saying… I didn’t know what he was talking about.” Simpson's employer, however, had a different comment on Simpson's legal experiences: "[T]his was 'the typical story of American racism. To get justice, the poor black woman needs a rich white lady."
This is not an exception. Mario’s point was that part of the problem is that institutionally and through culture our criminal justice system and society in general suppress our individual stories.
I sometimes think that it is unfortunate that you did not know me before I became a priest. Mostly this means that you are in the habit of thinking that I am different than you. I sometimes wonder how this affects the way that we talk about Jesus together. At my class reunion last summer, although the people who really knew me expected it, most of my old friends from high school were surprised to learn that I had been ordained. Many of them learn only about Christianity from television dramas. Few of us have had much experience with younger clergy.
After the Vietnam War the leaders of my home diocese thought that there were too many priests. They stopped ordaining people who were in their twenties. They told young people to go and have another career and then come back to the church with their wisdom. There are many great second career priests. But this policy effectively told the world that the spirituality, the faith stories, of young people was less important.
I grew up in a community of people who firmly believed otherwise. St. Martin’s Episcopal church in Davis included me as a teenager in adult Christian education programs. They insisted that I serve as an acolyte and gave me the responsibility of teaching Sunday School for younger kids. When I expressed an interest in being ordained they supported me through the process and cut through the red tape that could have held me back. Most of all they always listened to my story and saw its connection to the Bible.
Jesus is not present in a general way. The Holy Spirit is not vague. These are the tangible ways that I saw God at work in the world. When my friends or I needed help, when I was tempted to go astray, God was saving me through the church.
I bring this up because I feel Jesus more and more present at Christ Church every day. In the holiness of the Lent that we shared together, through our ministry at Ventana School and Rebuilding Together, in the care we show to sick and suffering people, God is here. At the retreat last week four year old Melia Young and Lynn Saunders painted a picture together and what was most beautiful about that picture was that as they did it they shared their stories.
In a world which suppresses the unique stories of individuals, we are finding our voice. I want to ask you to do more to tell your story about God’s grace to people who have not yet discovered Christ Church. This is not to tell them that the way they see the world is wrong, but to let them know there is a place where their stories can be faithfully heard. Invite your friends to church. We are ready to receive them.
Someone once asked a French poet, “if the Louvre Museum were burning and you could only choose one work of art which one would you save?” He replied, “I would choose the fire.” In your life and your calling as a child of God be free to choose the fire. Allow yourself to be the way that God transforms the world. Let go of the stories that others tell about you which imprison or control your life-giving spirit. Let the risen Christ appear to you and appear in you, even when you are confused or afraid. Then we shall “be called children of God” and “when he appears we will be like him” (1 John 3).
___________________________
The first example and the concluding one about the Louvre Museum came from the presentations that various bishop candidates made during this week. The first came from Bonnie Perry quoting Jonathan Jensen. The second was from Marc Andrus.
Mario Lamont Barnes, “Black Women’s Stories and the Criminal Law: Restating the Power of Narrative,” 39 U.C. DAVIS L. REV.
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