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“Do not fear, for Ihave redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1b
While taking Boomer for a walk yesterday, I caught sight of what appeared to be a red fireball in the sky. Only, it was not the sun or a meteor. It was the moon! I’ve seen reddish colored moons before, but I don’t recall ever seeing anything like this. The first thing that popped in my mind was a prophesy shared by Joel (2:31), “The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord.” Yet in mere moments, I thought better of it. Fires in the west have caused a great plume of smoke to pass over our state, and refracted light likely caused the fiendish, end of times worthy glow. There was nothing to fear.
It is funny how quickly our minds can go to the most frightening or worst-case scenarios. Yet most often, our expectations prove wrong. Much like the Halloween costumes so popular this time of year, look under the mask or hood, and we find nothing threatening. We might even find a friend. I think Jesus would love us to approach all our troubles in a similar way. Even when we cannot figure out an answer on our own or trouble hangs around, Jesus has said in varied ways, “Let nothing trouble you. Trust in me.” Indeed, at just the name of Jesus, demons are said to flee. That might not prove so with all our earthly troubles – at least not right away. Sometimes, troubles of this life stick around with seeming finality. Still, Jesus says, whatever we hear or see, he will be with us, and we have nothing to ultimately fear even if we face death itself.
Martin Luther argued that our faith and baptism makes all the difference. It is like an eternal lifeline that nothing, not even our own sinfulness, can cut. “In this faith,” Luther says, “I stand and live. I eat and drink, sleep and wake, rule, serve, labor, act, and suffer, all in the faith that I am baptized.” And through our faith and baptism, the Spirit claims us and will never abandon us. Indeed, God will make good come from even the biggest bad because we are loved. How can a vine which is connected to the branch called Jesus not bear fruit? How can pure love ever let us go? That’s impossible! Luther ponders, “The life of such a person, whether great or small and no matter what it is called, is nothing but fruit and cannot be without fruit; for in Christ that person has been born into a new existence, in order to be constantly full of good fruit.”
With fall upon us, we are in a season of growing darkness. With the news, some might suggest our days are dark too. Yet, this is also the season where we harvest fruits of the earth. Jesus has saved us, and he will continue to save us. Our call is to trust that no matter how dark the days of our lives might grow the good fruit that we are shall never be cast aside. We belong to Jesus.
Originally published in the October 2021 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
“Peace, peace, to the far and the near, says the Lord, and I will heal them. (Isaiah 57:19)
As I write this, I am preparing to go to the hospital tomorrow morning bright and early for surgery. In the grand scheme of things, it should prove a minor surgery, but it has been on my mind, nonetheless. When I was younger, I perhaps did not give as much thought and care to my health and wellness as it deserved, but it seems a growing issue as I age. There’s an ache here or a pain there. Stress can be more present than in the days of my youth. Sleep can be a challenge – not enough time for sleep or at times (perhaps much worse or at least more frustrating) disrupted sleep. Then whether for annual visits, precaution, or due to illness, it seems like I am visiting with doctors more and more. It is a good thing that I like them!
I’ve learned from my chaplaincy work in hospitals, hospice, and among law enforcement, our health and wellness are never to be taken for granted. Instead, self-care is a complicated thing deserving our prayerful discernment, effort, and trust. Yes, you read that correctly. I wrote “prayerful discernment, effort, and trust,” for our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual needs are all intertwined with one another and our need for God’s grace.
Did you ever notice that when Jesus forgave sins, it often resulted in other manifestations of healing? People were restored to relationship or could once again walk. Scripture commands (in James 5:14-15), “Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord.” God desires that we look heavenward for help, guidance, and hope. Martin Luther even alluded to our sacraments as a kind of healing medicine at times. Yet Jesus never taught, and scripture never claimed, that the healing to be gifted would only be physical or provided in the way we would want or expect it. Instead, we are asked to trust that the loving God who created us cares for us still. Indeed, God’s loving grace desires to enfold us in a kind of eternal hug from cradle to grave and beyond.
No matter our situation or prospects in this world, Jesus offers us a peace that is not of this world and beyond our understanding. It is a gift that can help us enter with boldness into new challenges, the doctor’s office, surgery, or even hospice care. This does not mean there will never be tears or fear or other human emotions, but even when these human emotions rise (trying to help us process our situation) or amidst our limited wisdom seeking to find our way forward, we can try to remind ourselves of and trust in Jesus’ promise that we will never be alone. Indeed, it is Jesus who sends us family, friends, and trained professionals to help us on the way. How do I know? Well, all good things come from God, and near or far, God’s healing will always find us. Indeed, Jesus has declared that one day sickness and death will be no more, and we will be with him when that day comes.
Image: Picture by DarkoStjanovic on Pixaby. Used by permission.
Originally published in the July 2021 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
In springtime, I often come to think of Thérèse de Lisieux as I take my walks. Thérèse was known for seeing God in the little things, even spring flowers or butterflies. She would regularly stop to reflect upon their intricate beauty. In her own way, it was a source of what we might call meditation or mindfulness. By focusing on her experiences of the moment, she discovered a deeper sense of peace and beauty around her and ultimately at work in her. She recognized even as she battled chronic, often debilitating illness, that she had reason to hope. Even in her illness, she could serve and be faithful to God. Simplicity was her watchword, often called by her “the little way.” And she herself eventually became commonly known as “the Little Flower.” For as much as many would overlook God’s work in creation, contemporaries often overlooked the spiritual beauty found in her lifestyle and vision. Yet today, she is remembered in Roman Catholic and Protestant seminaries and congregations across the world.
Martin Luther once quipped, “Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.” This is most certainly true! Yet, in this busy world, do we often stop to reflect on the gracious beauty at work in each of us and the world? Through our faith and baptism, God is still sharing the promises of the Gospel, and although not everyone will notice or believe it, all our lives make a difference. Indeed, Jesus died and rose from the dead for every one of us. As we are and for what we will become through grace, he sees value and beauty in each of us.
Much as Paul argued that each of us play a varied part in the body of Christ, Thérèse saw us as flowers in the garden. “I understood that every flower created by Him is beautiful, that the brilliance of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not lessen the perfume of the violet or the sweet simplicity of the daisy. I understood that if all the lowly flowers wished to be roses, nature would no longer be enameled with lovely hues. And so, it is in the world of souls, Our Lord’s living garden.”
Scripture reveals to us that God is our Master Gardner. God has planted us in the region of Fredericksburg to do some particular good, to add unique beauty, and to be individual and communal signs of life and hope. We bloom through worship, fellowship, and service. We are rooted in his love. Yet as summer travels begin again, local gatherings increase, and some might have to continue to stay away due to medical issues or other concerns, know that you are not forgotten. Indeed, you are missed. Come back to us when ready with new stories and love to share. For you make a difference to us, and together, we are most beautiful. I wish you a happy and meaningful summer ahead.
Image: Picture by the author.
Originally published in the June 2021 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
The human mind plans the way, but the Lord directs the steps. Proverbs 16:9
What a time we have had! As I write this, we are quickly approaching the one-year anniversary of our first pandemic shutdown in Virginia which occurred on March 13, 2020. As we entered 2020, I suspect none of us knew what really lay ahead. Even as everything closed, our common expectations that these troubles would last two weeks, or perhaps a month, seemed reasonable. When it comes to days like these, the old saying might have been proven true, “Humans plan, and God laughs.”
Cliches and proverbs are many, but the truth remains. We are short-sighted, emotional beings. We might make plans, but we are not aware of all the variables nor fully in control. For most of us, we struggle with that reality. Yet, both good things and bad things always happen in our world, and none of them, good or bad, last forever. On the other hand, God’s love does last, and God truly has been guiding us through some perilous, curious times. Through it all, yes, there has been much to grieve, but there has been much to celebrate as well. Within our congregation and families, we have celebrated marriages and births, and many other celebrations marking life passages within the lives of those we love. Upon reflection, we discover that “time marches on,” but also God walks with us. God’s Spirit constantly seeks to comfort us and direct us. We are surrounded by love in creation and in our homes. Even when seemingly alone, we remain in communion that neither time nor distance can stop.
As the Orthodox Divine Liturgy begins, the deacon proclaims to the priest, “It is time [kairos] for the Lord to act.” Chronos (meaning time) is used for speaking about sequential time like weeks and months. Kairos (also meaning time) is used to indicate an opportune, beneficial time for action. And here in worship, no matter the day or season, good or bad, there is an expectation that all will be well. All is well. God is acting to save and bless. That’s just who God is.
I wish I could write that all our daily troubles are behind us. I continue to hope that we will be together soon although we cannot really know when or how that will be as I write. Yet at the same time, I understand and trust that God is with us. Jesus, the Alpha and Omega, who exists outside of time also is at work within it. And the Spirit, our Advocate who acts to guide, console, and pray for us, seeks to bring us a conviction of faith, a trust, in a God who loves us always.
Originally published in the March newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.
Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this article are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) translation.
Photo by Alexas_Fotos on Pixaby. Used by permission.
During the pandemic of 2020, it seems many people are being tempted to put our 2020 goggles on (rather than see the world with 20/20 vision) as we look toward the holiday season, especially Christmas. “There won’t be much to Christmas this year.” “Christmas won’t be like we remember it.” Some have wondered out loud if there will be any Christmas at all!
This is very human, but it is not seeing things very clearly. Among the greatest biblical truths regarding Christmas, we do not find feasts, bright colored lights, and gifts wrapped in bows. We find Jesus who came to us as a vulnerable babe to share our lot. In this incarnate form, he would grow up to face emotional wounds, isolation, sickness, physical suffering, and death. Members of his own family would reject him, at least for a time. In other words, he became fully human in a fallen world – just like us.
Yes, suffering was part of Christ’s experience, so it remains an important part of the Christmas story. A baby is born in abject poverty in unsanitary conditions. His parents are so poor, all he can be dressed in are bands of cloth. He is surrounded by threats: war and revolution, plagues, and early death accepted as a norm. His mother and father flee with their child to avoid assassination. A tyrant king sends his troops to kill innocent babes and toddlers in the insane hope of stopping God’s will. This is Christmas too.
And yet thanks to scripture, carols, family and community traditions over the years, we know that this is not the full story. To only focus on the negative would be like telling ourselves a lie. We hear angels come to announce good news of great joy for us amidst any suffering. We see poor and marginalized shepherds find hope in the Christ child. It is a hope so bursting with possibility, they cannot help but share it despite (or perhaps because of) the exceedingly difficult lives they share with their families and neighbors. We also learn how God protects those God loves. Yes, Jesus and his parents are protected, but we are told our God desires to offer that same protection and peace to all the earth. Amidst all the frightening and sad things, God’s loving will remains. Jesus has come for our good – to ultimately crush suffering, sin and death – and nothing will stop God’s will…not even our own doubts and fears.
A Spanish priest poetically answered the question of “Will there be a Christmas?” in this way:
Will there be Christmas? Of course! More silent and with more depth. More like unto the first one, when Jesus was born in solitude. Without many lights on earth, but with the star of Bethlehem shining on paths of life in its immensity. Without colossal royal processions, but with the humility of feeling as if we are shepherds, young and old, seeking the Truth. Without big tables and with bitter absences, but with the presence of a God who will fill everything.
Merry Christmas, dear Church. Let nothing trouble us, for Christ is here.
For those that might still be wondering what all the recent Facebook hubbub about Parler is about, here’s a pretty reasonable article. I’ve seen plenty of old friends announcing their migration to this newer social media platform. As for me? I don’t often use Facebook for political stuff. I prefer to talk in person about weighty issues. On Twitter, I share more news articles but from multiple sources and usually little or no commentary.
I know there’s a lot of junk on these sites. (To be honest, let’s admit it’s from both the left and right.) I recognize attempts at curtailing bad or untrue comments by the social media powers that be has been sloppy at best and often seemingly lopsided. And yes, these platforms seek to manipulate us and limit competition. So, I try to ignore the junk and educate myself from multiple news sources with varied perspectives off of Facebook. I actually talk to live people which includes a lot of listening.
If on social media, I much prefer looking at funny memes, or pictures from my friends garden in Africa, seeing a morning walk of a congregant, and sharing joyful events like births or even sad or troubling events like surgeries or deaths. These can help us feel connected and cared for. Heck, I even enjoy my friend’s post who shares his photos of small, rural post offices. Simple joys can matter. Through social media, I’ve found weightier things such as positive resources for prayer and meditation and even some resources to consider future travel when the pandemic ends (or at least dream about it).
That’s the better side of social media, and to make that my focus helps improve my attitude for the day as well as shape what I say or post. I don’t need to personalize or catastrophize everything. I can choose to be happy. I can try to be patient, kind and understanding. I don’t have to be compelled to comment on everything. Those are powers we all have with some intentionality and God’s help.
And in reality, I doubt Facebook will last forever. Younger folks have already tended to move on. It will likely go the way of Six Degrees or MySpace unless it changes drastically. Whatever the platform we choose, I’ve seen too many relationships broken needlessly, and I don’t need that in my life. The world can be hard enough on its own. We don’t have to let that happen or play along with those less healthy than we might be. At the same time, that doesn’t mean we should cut off from everyone who thinks different than us.
Instead, we can turn the other cheek and scroll or click away without total cut-off, or cancelling, or condemning anyone to the fires of hell. We are free not to feel obliged to answer in haste or perhaps at all. We can wish others well even as we disagree or are offended, pray for them, and perhaps model a better way forward if we are right. If we discover we are wrong, we might learn something from them as well.
As I’ve said elsewhere, a new “thing” will certainly come along, but I’m just not sure I need another or new social media platform of any type in my life right now. In fact, I’ve been using social media less. That’s certainly helped make this election cycle and my life better. There’s plenty of research indicating that too much social media has led to social isolation, depression and other concerns.
Paul wrote (Phil. 4:8): “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” If that doesn’t sound like our Facebook or other social media feeds, maybe it’s we who are doing it wrong and not just the platform. Changes can be made for good based on our desires, resilience and love for others. For all those migrating, or staying, or totally turning things off, go with God wherever you digitally find yourself. You can always contact me in the real world to share your news. I’d be happy to hear it.
I wouldn’t post this if it weren’t for the fact I see too many friends on Facebook expressing the same opinion in not so many words. “Sacrifice the weak. Reopen the economy.” A simple, utilitarian approach is antithetical to Christian faith.
No, we need not unnecessarily “martyr” the economy nor “sacrifice the weak.” Yes, I understand that sacrifices will need to be made, among all, and these sacrifices won’t always be perceived as fair. Life isn’t fair. Yet, we do need to remember the “least of these” and the most vulnerable of our society as we seek a way forward. They must remain an important part of our “equation.”
Out of love for our neighbors, some freedoms and prosperity might need to be given up freely; not out of obligation but in love, at least for a time. There is no other way forward if we want to walk with Christ. Loving your neighbor cannot be based solely on death counts or the perceived liabilities of “others.” Who rightly judges who is “weak” and without worth? That’s the way of that past in Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union.
Tough economic decisions can’t be based solely on fear of the virus nor fear about where our daily bread will come from. We can and must do better. Jesus said, “…But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (Luke 14:13-14). If you hope to someday celebrate an economic recovery, you might just want to invite these folks as well.
We’ve been talking a lot about saints in our recent podcasts, “What the Halo?!” and “Halo2,” and St. George is among my favorites. Of course, slaying dragons is cool. (OK, maybe that didn’t happen.) Yet, it is also on his feast day in 2001 that I slayed bachelorhood. (That did happen. Kristine and I became engaged.)
Why get engaged on his feast day? It was during a visit to Barcelona for Taizé’s European Gathering that I recognized Kristine was my true one and only. In Barcelona, St. George’s Day is a kind of St. Valentine’s Day, a day for romance.
Spain’s tourism department explains why: “This curious festival comes from a mixture of traditions from different periods. It coincides, on one hand, with the fact that Sant Jordi has been the patron saint of Catalonia since the 15th century and on the other hand, it comes from the famous legend of Saint George and the dragon (the knight defeats the dragon, who was terrorizing the village and the princess, and after penetrating the dragon with his sword, Saint George gave the princess one of the beautiful red roses that spilled out of the beast’s body) and the old medieval tradition of visiting the Chapel of Sant Jordi in the Palacio de la Generalitat, where a rose fair or ‘lovers fair’ used to take place. This is why Sant Jordi is also the patron saint of lovers in Catalonia.”
In 1926, Spain declared the 23rd of April, the anniversary of the death of Miguel de Cervantes, the most famous Spanish writer, as Book Day. These two notable anniversaries (St. George’s Day and Book Day) became marked as one celebration. The most common gifts between those in love remains books and roses often wrapped in the colors of the Catalonian flag.
Although this year’s public celebration is hampered during this time of COVID-19, love need not be. Enjoy your day and the sites and sounds of last year’s festival in Barcelona below.
The following is my Ash Wednesday sermon (2020) reflecting upon the findings of the investigation of Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche, in relationship to our Lenten and life’s journey. It was preached at Christ Lutheran Church in Fredericksburg.
As last week ended, I learned of some horrifying, disappointing, maddening news. A man, Jean Vanier, who had earned enormous, international respect for starting a non-profit centered around those with intellectual disabilities…who was deemed a living saint by many and inspired a worldwide movement…whose books were often assigned reading in seminaries and among social workers…who was known to be friends with Mother Teresa, Br. Roger of Taizé, Popes and Archbishops of Canterbury as well as international political figures…was discovered after his death to have misused his place of authority to abuse at least six female coworkers or volunteers who had come to him for spiritual care. He had used his position of trust not only to do good over many years – and there was and still remains much good being done in those communities called L’Arche – but ultimately, he also greatly harmed others who were extremely vulnerable. His actions still negatively impact those victims’ lives and likely will for years to come. The sin perpetrated, as sin always does, had a ripple effect. Many of those who looked up to him or were inspired by him suddenly felt violated themselves. Their volunteering or vocation, perhaps even their personhood, felt threatened. Their faith itself often came under assault. If this supposedly great man couldn’t be trusted, then who can be? People are rightly grieving openly at their sense of betrayal, disappointment, anger, and loss.
I didn’t personally know Jean Vanier, but I have known throughout my later adult years many who served in L’Arche…who are L’Arche. I worked very closely with those who formed L’Arche Metro-Richmond as they sought to successfully create a community where people with and without intellectual disabilities can be found living, working, praying, and playing together. That’s a good thing, the work of many loving people and not just one person. Ultimately, I believe the love and joy found there is evidence of the Holy Spirit at work. The Ark (L’Arche means “ark” in French) might be badly scorched, but it hasn’t been consumed. It is a work that must remain ongoing no matter who might sin and fail among us or in whatever new form the future might bring. God intends to make good come from even the ash heaps of our lives.
I remain glad that my faith is in Jesus and not in humanity. I learned as a police officer long ago that people can always let you down, sometimes in shocking ways, as they struggle with their own darkness….or perhaps start perpetuating wounds they themselves have received. Knowing this doesn’t make it easier when we are hurt by sin, but it might help us accept that bad things can happen to good people in a fallen world. In time, it might even help us forgive or move forward.
The failures of others to love need not stop us from looking to Jesus who asked us to serve as light among the darkness. This is a real darkness at work in the world often through ordinary people. Yet over those years, I also came to recognize that sin and death were also always at work in me. That’s why I came back to the Church. I needed more than just comfort or correction, some plan for doing better. I needed grace, forgiveness and salvation. I needed it not just once, but time after time each day. The darkness that we face or struggle with as Church should never keep us from striving toward the Light which is Jesus. You see, God desires to help us. Its why Jesus came to us.
That human condition reflects a bit about why we gather here tonight. No matter who we are, we as Lutheran-Christians understand that we are at our best sinner-saints. We tend to be bent inward on ourselves, Luther argued, always struggling with sin and never proving quite enough on our own to be the people we hope we can be…the people God desires us to become. Whether large sins or small sins, they come with a cost. We separate ourselves from God and neighbor. We hurt others, sometimes unintentionally, but its real hurt none the less. We experience the heavy reality of sin through bullies in school and negative, condemning self-talk in our heads, in addiction, misuse of what God has given us (even friendships and family relationships meant to be a gift from God are abused) and so much more.
This is largely unavoidable as humans, but it isn’t because we are a total mess or unredeemable…it is because we are human. Still as much as we humbly accept this fallen reality, we are asked by God to accept even more. We are fallen yet loved humans. Each year as we enter Lent, we are asked to contemplate how Jesus suffered and died for us (“for our sin” some say) in order to free us from the power of sin, death and the Devil. We are invited, not forced, to practice the disciplines of Lent: to cooperate with the grace offered us through prayer (justice towards God); fasting (justice towards self); and almsgiving (justice towards neighbors). We are called to repentance, to serve others, to offer ourselves up before God and ask God to transform our lives and community. God does so through his Spirit; making us holy.
In the early days of Christianity, the ancient practices of mourning in sackcloth and ashes became a new symbol of this season called Lent. It is a word meaning springtime, and it is meant for renewed life through loving God and neighbor as ourselves. Its not that we are asked to literally sit in ashes and dress in sackcloth like the prophets of old, but we are invited to receive a small cross made of oil and ash on our foreheads. Much like those who had been excommunicated in the early church for grave sin, we wear ashes as a sign of our modern regrets and hope for restoration. We remember the promises of our baptism where, yes, we made promises to God…promises we often fail in…but also where God made lasting, perfect promises to us. The Holy Spirit has claimed us. We have become by God’s power and proclamation beloved children of God, and God will never let us go.
I will never condemn anyone for crying over sin in the world or in ourselves. We have much to regret, and life often hurts. There’s much evil to contemplate, fear and cope with. Still, all is not lost. Jesus suffered and rose for our sake. The cross he bore…the life we live with all its problems and our fears…leads us to one certain end… Resurrection Day with a new and eternal life shared with Jesus.
As Paul so powerfully argues, we are as the dying, and see, we are alive. We might seem to have nothing, and yet we have everything. Yes, we have the love of Jesus, our Savior, our Redeemer, our God. We can open wide our hearts to God and neighbor with courage, even as we might grieve sin and death. For with God, all things are possible including new starts and our salvation as gift. No matter what we see, feel, or fear, we can trust that God is making all things new. We can trust in Jesus even when we cannot trust ourselves. Amen.
For those who attend our theology on tap meetings, Three Priests Walk in a Bar, you might recall that we originally created a special Facebook group so conversations could continue. Our producer and facilitator, Nick2, similarly invited folks to “pick apart” our gatherings conversation at a later date. We invite you to join our Facebook group and join the ongoing conversations related to our gatherings and podcasts. Here’s the second of two essays that I am sharing regarding the Lord’s Supper in response to issues raised. The live event’s topic was “Can Christians Worship Together or Not?,” Episode 3.
When I was a child long ago, it was a common practice to have those coming to the Lord’s Table for the first time to dress in white. It was to serve as a reminder of our baptism. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, both means of God’s grace, are intricately linked almost as if one sacrament. Fr. Adam (Orthodox), Fr, Nik (Episcopal) and I (Lutheran) agree on that understanding.
As our last live gathering came to a close, Father Nik offered last words, passionate and extensive ones, in defense of common liturgical practice and Apostolic tradition: the unbaptized should not receive communion. I can’t say I explicitly disagree with his argument. Nor is it the first time that I’ve heard it. Yet, I do wonder about the certainty of his biblical interpretation, particularly as it comes to the Parable of the Wedding Banquet (Matthew 22:1-14). God might surprise us yet.
Fr. Nik, as many others before him, argued as if the meaning of the parable is both clear and specific. (At least to my ear, that’s the way I heard it.) One of those guests let in to the wedding banquet had refused to wear the appropriate wedding garment to the feast. Traditionally, such wedding garments were provided by the host, much as baptismal candidates were presented a white robe upon their baptism to remind them of their now being clothed in Christ. Many see the wedding banquet, an End Time symbol when we will live in the fullness of God, as also representing the Lord’s Supper, “a foretaste of the feast to come.” So, the argument goes, our faith and Baptism (the grace-filled garment) must be worn to the feast (the Lord’s Supper).
I accept the tradition and polity of the historic Church as understood by the ELCA. We do save communing for baptized members of Christ’s Church. Yet, I think it immensely important to point out (but we did not have the time to do so at our gathering) that parables are teaching stories. In Jesus’ time, they were commonly riddles and short stories used as a tool by instructors of all kind. They are meant to be wrestled with and often can have multiple answers and meanings. Despite the apparent certainty of Fr. Nik’s argument, isn’t it possible more is going on here? Isn’t it possible he (and others) have misapplied it to fit their already held liturgical and religious dispositions? What else could God be saying?
Certainly, there is no one way to understand this famous parable and its component pieces. Yes, as mentioned above, baptismal garments were offered the newly baptized (who entered the waters naked) to reflect our “putting on” Christ, our rebirth and regeneration – at least in a number of communities. Yet, that practice only became a norm after Jesus’ resurrection. In the scriptural account, Jesus was speaking to a crowd who would not necessarily make such a connection, even though later Christians might. In this point of his ministry, most of the original audience would likely have interpreted Jesus’ parable through the lens of Jewish scriptures and experience.
If you side with some scholars that argue the story might reflect later teachings of the community of Matthew, you might be assuming a great deal. Even with each Gospel witness being somewhat different, sometimes quite different, I’ve not been convinced by anyone that the writers played with Jesus’ central teachings freely to better fit their specific geographic, cultural context or the current theology. Jesus certainly could have intended elements of the story for future disciples, but that too, is hard to prove. It might be best to look for allusions and connections to the Jewish scriptures; something Jesus’ original audience (and the original audience of Matthew’s Gospel who are widely thought to have been Jewish Christians) would be familiar with. Let’s consider what he is saying to them, and that might help us make better applications today.
In Genesis 3, God made garments of skin to cover Adam and Eve, a sign of God’s grace amidst their rebellion. There are many instructions and commands regarding the use and care of religious garments in the Jewish scriptures. Garments could reflect one’s tribe and one’s purpose. In the Psalms, God’s loving activity and light is often compared to a garment. And the prophets speak of putting on the Lord’s splendor like a garment. So, the original listeners could have made many complimentary interpretations while excluding any particular allusion to Baptism or the Lord’s Supper.
Many argue that the garment at some level represents God’s love, grace, protection and works. It defines who we are and who we trust in through faith; faith itself being a gift. The garment in this parable need not be explicitly or solely connected to Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Indeed, many scholarly and historic interpreters do not limit it in such a way. One modern Orthodox resource alluded to Baptism, but more so, the author argues we will be examined at the End of Time to see if we have shared in a life of repentance within the Church (in their mind, the Orthodox Church alone). Did we desire and accept God’s mercy? It isn’t so much about the Lord’s Supper as much as it is about our entire lives lived in faith within the holy community. Explicitly, the author asked, “Have we lived in the light we have been given?” Perhaps that proves a better understanding of the passage.
Indeed, Pope Gregory the Great argued in a sermon that ultimately the garment is God’s love. “[Jesus] came as a bridegroom to unite Himself to the Church. There was no other means than God’s love by which the Only-begotten could unite the souls of the elect with Himself. This is why John tells us: God so loved the world, that He gave His only-begotten Son (John 3:16). He who came to men for love’s sake, calls this love the wedding garment.” To him, this garment has two threads: the love of God and neighbor. As Jesus taught and recorded in Matthew, this is the greatest commandment. This doesn’t necessarily exclude one referencing the Baptism or the Eucharist, but that explicit connection seems a bit forced if Gregory the Great’s argument and many others like it hold true. Indeed, the Jewish foundation of Matthew’s Gospel might promote the greatest commandment being the preferred interpretive lens over any sacramental focus.
So, is it wrong for Fr. Nik and others to use this parable to defend the sanctity of the Lord’s Supper and how we should participate? I don’t think it necessarily is so, but there is a need for caution. It appears this parable might primarily be aimed at something quite different – a simpler application. Trust or faith in Jesus Christ might prove the preferable focus. Love and grace in light of “the fulfillment of the law” might serve as a better, more direct interpretive key. The parable might even be best understood as a warning for Christians not to take their salvation for granted as in Bonhoeffer’s arguments against “cheap grace.” Yet if one believes it to be primarily about Baptism, the Lord’s Supper, and the risk of being cast out for receiving the Lord’s Supper improperly (without being baptized, or while being ignorant or ill prepared) then there remain important questions to be addressed.
Does this mean only those who are baptized or who died as martyrs are saved? If someone receives the Eucharist in error or with bad intention or practice, are they without hope? Would that be a mortal sin? (As Roman Catholics understand it, this is a sin that leads to damnation if not confessed and repented of, but Lutherans reject such a hierarchy of sin. All sin separates us from God and one another.) Can faith be enough to save us, even the faith of those who are not yet baptized for whatever reason? Could not God choose to save those who are unbaptized whether infants or those who have not heard of Jesus yet for extenuating circumstances, even as we remain certain that through our faith and participation of the Sacraments we are saved by grace?
And what about those who have had members of the Church act as stumbling blocks to the faith, keeping the “little ones” who would otherwise believe away from Jesus, the Church and the Sacraments? In this last case, one might recall Jesus’ comment that it would be better to die with a millstone around one’s neck and be cast into the sea than be the one who kept the “little one” away. The sin appears to be on those who keep people away from Jesus, not those who are kept away (Matthew 18:6-9). There exist people historically and today who have been kept away from Christian faith through individual abuse and poor witness as well as the corporate power and influence of political and family systems in the Church. If we share in that sin as part of the Church or explicitly, does that mean we will found naked at the feast? I trust from the promises of Christ that will not be the case for us, and I suspect greater grace will be offered to others “outside” the Church than many Christians expect.
In the West (and perhaps the East), it appears historically common to have at times simply interpreted the parable as a call for faith, Baptism, and active life in the Church to include the Lord’s Supper. This doesn’t mean it is the best interpretation. In truth, pastors and theologians, Popes, Patriarchs, Bishops and councils have erred when addressing important issues. This parable was not always deemed explicitly about the Lord’s Supper, and I think it improper to present it as if it was.
To reject the garment was thought to reject God’s grace. But what is the garment explicitly? Anyone out of communion with the Church (as defined by varied dogma, councils, and cannon law; East verses West; Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Protestant or Radical traditions all interpreted differently) was often declared doomed. To not be baptized would doom you. To not receive the Sacraments “rightly” and regularly would doom you. To not believe in approved dogma and previous interpretations of scripture (even when it might be wrong) was believed to doom you. Unfortunately, real life like the parable is never so cut and dry as our too often simplistic interpretations. God’s love is cut from a broader clothe, and I am not sure any of us humans can fully discern the scope and full intentions of God’s grace in the present.
Perhaps like Martin Luther, it is best to trust in, remember, and encourage others to believe in what we know saves us (as promised by Jesus). Through revelation, we know that we are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ, but God might yet have mercy on whomever God wants to. If these folks are saved (shown mercy), I believe it would ultimately be because of Jesus’ sharing our lot through his life, death and resurrection. Yet with our finite wisdom, we can never really know in this life God’s full plan.
Rather than act as if we are God, proclaiming and arguing about who is or will be cast into the pit, perhaps we should be more humble. In condemning others to hell, we risk being unscriptural and walking astray ourselves. (We can address the power of the keys at another time.) Let’s not limit the power of amazing grace, when we don’t understand its full limits.
As the Church already has often done, we of varied denominations might develop policies and procedures regarding the administration of the Sacraments for good order, right theology, or for other good and loving reasons, but we need to always be prepared for grace, a gift that is often unfair and not ours to give. There might just be something more going on in the parable and with the Spirit’s activity in our lives. After all, “for now we see in a mirror, dimly” (see 1 Corinthians 13:12). Certainly, all things remain possible with God (see Matthew 26:25-26). Regarding the Lord’s Supper, God could be doing something new. It is worth talking about even as I listen to the arguments and teachings of the past.
Post Note:As with any of our theology on tap events or podcasts, please remember we are limited by both the time and format. When someone speaks authoritatively, whether me (as a Lutheran Christian), Fr. Nik (as an Episcopalian Christian), or Fr. Adam (as an Orthodox Christian), we are speaking for ourselves as best as we understand scripture and tradition from our context. We certainly can err in the moment as well. To those who listen, our teachings might unintentionally become conflated or we can appear to be in full agreement when we are not. Feel free to ask us questions after the event for further clarification.Also, keep coming back!
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Husband, Pastor, Law Enforcement Chaplain, and member of the Clerical Errors (aka "The Three Priests"), I'm sharing my two cents with anyone who cares...
You can also find me on social media as Loudluthrn (Lou-d-Luthrn or Lou the Lutheran). It is a moniker given me while attending a Presbyterian Seminary, but I'm a loud and proud Lutheran too (just not too loud and proud, mind you).
