Sunday, November 16, 2014

Talents. Matthew 25.14-30 Cathedral Church of St. John

What talents do we have that will bring about the Kingdom of God?  It is challenging and thoughtful question.  A question Jesus places squarely in our lives.  Yet, it is a question that is difficult and one we have to wrestle with.  

What are these talents that Jesus is talking about?  Are they money, ability,  or an exceptional singing voice.  Maybe none of the above. The question was answered for me a few weeks back in a cold parking lot of a homeless shelter.  I glimpsed what I believe are talents.  I witnessed the love of Christ in ways I did not expect. 

I was at St. Martin’s Hospitality Center on a chilly Monday morning.  I noticed a lady sitting on one of the hard stone benches outside of the door.  It was breakfast and the line was forming, yet she seemed unconcerned.  She wanted to move inside into the warmth. Next to her was a stroller and a 8 or 10 month old child was in the stroller sleeping.  

The lady and her baby were homeless.  The small thin cloth was covering the opening of the stroller was so thin that it could not keep out the sun nor the cold.   The mom was young but the lines in her face, and her premature gray betrayed her age.  She had one hand on the stroller, slowly moving it in a rocking motion. and she was staring at the ground.  She had that dismayed look on her face as if attempting to grasp all the pain and suffering that was enveloping her life.  

In the stroller, her beautiful child was had no idea he was homeless, wearing torn clothes or sleeping in front of a homeless shelter.  He was dreaming, there was a smile on his face, his legs were gently kicking as if running in a field of grass.  It was one of those moments when you want to cry.  

I thought of where they had slept the previous night.  My heart was broken because i kept focusing on the conditions that caused this mom and child to be on the streets.  I truly could not imagine the  fear she encounters each night as she pushes the stroller forward on the streets.  Watching and listening.  Seeking warmth, safety and acceptance.


Just then, from the corner of my eye, I could see an elderly homeless man move away from the breakfast line. 

He was weak, a bit wobbly and moving backward holding a cup in his hand. He stumbled and fell toward the woman and her child.  He hit the stroller and spilled his drink all over the woman.  He was on the ground, her simple clothes were soaked and the baby was awake, crying. For each of them, their worlds came shattering down.

In reading this Gospel, I thought of that moment and what talents truly mean.  Some may point to money and the need to give, invest and grow the profit.   Maybe talents are abilities.  The capacity to pull strings across strings and create music. Or using your hands to hold a brush against canvas and create art.  The physical prowess to sink a 30 foot jump shot. 

I do not believe these are the talents that Jesus was talking about. Let’s dream greatly and look at this Gospel through a different lens.  Talents not as the English word that is difficult to correlate with Aramaic or Greek.  Talents not as abilities but rather gifts, placed inside us that reflect the Divine.

Gifts like compassion, empathy, goodness, humility and joy.  Even such things like sadness and longing.  Divine talents of hope, laughter, humanity and most importantly, love. I have read fashionable articles, felt the pull of seductive advertising that traps me into thinking that I should double power and status, triple the checkbook, and that my appearance is a simple formula for worldly success. 

Yet, all are external and temporal.   Rarely do find that empathy, goodness, humanity and hope are to be emphasized.  It seems we are encouraged to hold it in, maybe even bury those talents.  They are buried so deep they become difficult to uncover.  It is said that for many in society the only way they can express emotion is through anger or violence.  It is the only way they can feel. 

Yet Jesus in his beautiful way of teaching and encouraging is pointing to something radically different. Jesus is pointing to the Kingdom and not the expectations of this world.  God has given you a personal treasure that was never meant to be buried or wasted. The divine talents of kindness, compassion, hope, acceptance, love are meant to be daringly shared and given freely.  They are sacred, a gift from God.

Inherently we feel, we know there is a beauty, a goodness, when we share laughter, when show humanity toward one another.  It is the same beauty we see in nature - the colors, the talents of a flower, of a sunset, of the glimpse of fall.  Talents of nature joining to praise God, just as our talents within reflect the beauty of God. 

These talents are not meant to be put aside.  They have to been invested, doubled tripled and shared. We just need the courage to give them life, to bring them out of our buried darkness.   It has been said that when the Lord returns, I do not believe he wants us to say, "Look, everything is just as you left it!” 

Each on of us has the talents to be the creators of God’s Kingdom. To expand it and grow the edges.   Because the Kingdom of God is about reclaiming what has been ruined and making beautiful again.  You have talents.  I read that the writer Vaclav Havel, imprisoned by the communist, spent years in confinement.  

After he was released and elected President of the new Czech Republic, he was invited to address the US Congress.  In part, he said,  ”The salvation of this human world lies nowhere else than in the human heart . . . in human responsibility. Responsibility to something higher than my family, my time, my country, my success.” I believe when he was speaking of the heart, he was speaking of talents.  

You say that is unbelievable and extraordinary.  How can compassion, love and humanity change things.  People will not believe it. Yet isn’t that what God does constantly?  The unbelievable and extraordinary - through us, through our lives.  That day in the parking lot, three lives came shattering down together on a cold morning.   The elderly homeless man was face first on the ground.   His nose was cut and bleeding.  In a soft and despondent way, he said “I am so sorry.”  The woman, stepped forward with clenched fists.  Her only clothes soaked, baby crying, their collective worlds collapsing further.  I prepared for the outburst.   

She stood over him, reached down and helped him up.  She then asked him “are you OK?”  They both struggled up and the two leaned on one another for one instant.  In that moment, despite her pain, despite her condition, her suffering.  Her talents reflected the divine gifts of God - kindness, compassion, hope, love, humanity.  

Whatever was buried was multiplied right in front of me.  Her talents are continuing to multiply three and four fold.  So much so that a Priest stands in magnificent cathedral and tells a faithful people of the love and compassion of a tired, beautiful, talented woman who has no place to lay her head. How will her talent ripple out into your lives and into the world.  

What will awaken, what will be uncovered in our lives that was buried.  For example, all the media coverage of ebola.  The fears sets in and we talk of isolation, quarantine and bans on certain countries.  All to protect ourselves.  Yet what talents will awaken when we think not of the disease, but of the orphans in Africa, some as young as 2 or 3 who wander the streets alone because of HIV and Ebola. Not sick people but brothers and sisters - our children in God. 

We hear of the terrorists who perpetuate the hate of ISIS so we lump all Syrians together.  What talents will increase when we hear of 500 Palestinian and Syrian refugees murdered attempting to flee violence and poverty.  Human traffickers rammed their boat in the Mediterranean and all drowned.  Most suffered extreme exposure before death forced to sit on the deck in the glaring sun.  Over those who drowned over 150 were under the age of 10.  Not terrorist, not Syrians, but brothers and sisters, our children in God.  

My dear ones, pay attention the heart, that divine gift, your talents.  If they are buried, abandon yourself and give them life.  If they are working in your lives, double, triple, quadruple the investment. 

Those talents are sacred, given to you by God.  I pray you never lose to ability to remember, to uncover that sacred gift.  It is in you.  Because tonight, there is a lady walking the cold streets of Albuquerque with a baby in a stroller. There is a person in your life seeking acceptance and hope.   There is someone you will encounter that will need to see the face of Christ.  Each day, each moment you will have a chance to increase your talents.  


Risk daringly, astonish completely and use your talents to radically bring about the Kingdom of God. That is where our treasure is truly found.  

Saturday, November 01, 2014

Bless Your Vote

The election is coming to an end.

The endless television commercials touting both the triumphs of the candidate and the unimaginable despicable faults of the opponent.  The flag waves in the background. The shiny dome of the Capitol reflects the glow of dawn.   It is hard to tell what America wants, much less needs.

One party may take the Senate, another Government official will be swept out of office.  Will anything change? I have been thinking about our political system and how it can truly change.  It begins and ends with Him.  I have been thinking - I ask for His blessing on my work, my ministry, my family, and those in the Diocese.  I ask for His blessing on this day, those traveling, and the sick.

As I walked into the voting booth today, I took a chance and asked that He bless my vote.  Maybe that sounds silly, yet maybe that blessing will carry onto those who win and those who lose.  That the array of names on the ballot will feel and act differently.  The blessing may come forth in simple ways.  Where they realize this campaign, government office, is not about power, prominence, structures or politics.

That those who have the most blessed votes understand they are entrusted with a precious gift. My hope is that they use this gift of blessed votes in goodness and kindness.   Where compassion, empathy and tenderness envelope their hearts so that no one is hurt and all are considered.  Most Holy One, bless my vote, bless every vote that comes from the hands, heart and mind your have created.  In return, those who hold the blessed votes, surround them with your mystery.  Give each of them the grammar of the Divine.


Thursday, July 24, 2014

Five Lost Souls

Three Hispanic teens are out late searching for someone to be the target of their pain. Two homeless Navajo men are sitting in an abandoned field strewn with rocks and glass, drinking away their pain, dulling whatever path that has led them to this place. Two broken roads meet last Saturday night, and we are left wondering if can ever call ourselves a civilized or caring community. For no other reason than rage and hate, the three teens spend the next hour bashing the men in the field with hands, feet, cinder blocks and poles. Through splattered blood and cries of pain, the teens shout " eat mud bitch. "

The next morning the homeless Navajo men are found under a mattress. The faces of these beautiful children of God are mutilated beyond recognition. They are caked in blood, brain matter and mud. Unrecognizable in death as they were invisible in life. No one seemed to know who they were, only that they were the nameless homeless. The three teens walk home with blood on their hands and clothes. Who is at home to notice their appearance? One of the teens looks into the mirror and tells the arresting police that he saw the “devil” in his reflection.

This story transcends heartbreak. It prompts outrage, questioning, disbelief. Nevertheless, it goes far deeper. One cannot begin to describe the depth of incomprehension. Three teens are shackled for their appearance in court. We learn they dropped out of school.  One cannot find a parent. Another was at one time homeless. What were the origins of this torment and hatred that were unleashed upon the world in that abandoned field? I suspect we will find a myriad of abuse, poverty, isolation and neglect. During those hours, they walked the streets of our city - did we see them? When they were booked into jail - did we intervene? When they were ignored by society did we bring them in? I am at a loss for these children of God.

Two lost Navajo men far away from their sacred home. They are sitting in the dark, in an empty field next to a busy street. Their last hours are simply horrific. Forsaken by society, they are not identified for three days. No one knows who they were, or that they were in a morgue. Who cared for them? We become immune to the pain felt by the Navajo homeless. We simply forget the homeless - ethnicity is of no factor. I suspect we will find a myriad of poverty, neglect, cultural oppression and abuse of some kind. All those hours walking the streets of our city - did we see them? When they were booked into jail - did we intervene? When they were ignored by society - did we bring them in? I cry for these children of God.

Five lost people on the streets of Albuquerque. Many are calling for justice and vengeance while politicians now talk of protecting the homeless. There will be media headlines and sad vigils; what has changed? The reality is that we did not care about them before this horrific night, and I suspect that over time, this story will become a dusty old story. Will we even remember their names in six months? Who will be the next lost soul? Thousands of dropouts will continue to walk the streets; gangs will grow. Homelessness will continue, and lonely souls will drink in abandoned corners.   Children of God will continue to die violent or lonely deaths on our streets.

It is difficult to find the Kingdom of a God in this story. However, maybe there is hope. I pray that abandoned field will be a step toward creating that Kingdom. Maybe our community will understand that one lost soul, five lost souls, or 1000 lost souls are unacceptable. Through the pain, bewilderment, and sadness, we may have the courage and compassion to care. Someone has to care; something has to change. Please don’t let this be the end of the story. " The King will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine you did for me.”

Monday, July 07, 2014

I had difficulty with our flag this 4th of July


A fond, childhood memory was of my father reverently raising the flag of the United States on days of national importance. A Marine, like his father and grandfather before him, he would stand silently and watch the flag move in the breeze. He held a sense of awe for this country, and he believed the flag represented everything that was right about the United States.

He would point to it and say; that flag tells represents freedom. I have attempted to carry that tradition of raising the flag. My son and I would dutifully place it in a position of honor outside our home. This year it was difficult. The national media has been reporting on the immigration protests in a town called Murrietta (named for an immigrant - Esequial Murrieta) in the State of California (another Spanish word).

Women and children in an attempt to escape the economic oppression and daily terror in their home country have been arrested for entering the United States without proper documents. They were being transported in buses to a temporary holding facility before final deportation to their former “home.” After a treacherous journey of 1000 miles to escape gangs, extortion, rape, murder, these women and children were met by angry protesters.

The protesters blocked the buses from passing through to the facility.  Many were waving the flag of the United States. The flag my father would hold so gently, was being held in anger. Softly flapping in the California wind, the flag of the United States would be forever etched in the memory of those impoverished women and children as a symbol of rejection. My father would have shed a tear.

In public life, we call ourselves a Christian country. We use phrases like “freedom and democracy” or “the chance for a better life.” It all sounds true; we tend to intervene in situations where liberation for oppression is a pressing national concern. Many of the appeals to our highest national identity emphasize the long held belief that we are the promised land: “And may He continue to hold us close as we fill the world with our sound—sound in unity, affection, and love—one people under God, dedicated to the dream of freedom that He has placed in the human heart, called upon now to pass that dream on to a waiting and hopeful world.” (Ronald Reagan, Second Inaugural).

The women and children waiting on the bus were hopeful, and they found despair. The women and children silently watched as our flag was waved in anger at their presence. These children of God on that bus were told they could not enter “our kingdom.”

I would never assume that can speak for our Holy Creator or actually know what God is thinking. I like to believe, however, that through prayer, grace, silence and the Bible - God sent his Son with a message of love and inclusion. It is meant for everyone.  I like to believe that God does not draw lines or borders, favor nationalities, or wave flags, or differentiate by standing, skin color or social class. Only that Jesus said, " Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these. "

I like to believe that most Americans have a greater love for humanity and inherent compassion than what was reported at Murrieta.  I pray that compassion still exists and because of this hope in humanity, we walked outside and unfurled the flag. I watched as my son raised it with special reverence, and I thought of my father and the love he held for his country.

I then walked into my makeshift chapel and sat in silence, staring at the crucifix. I was reminded once again the beauty of the cross.  The beautiful cross is where the love God meets the earth. That cross is where life come alive and is the only real place for me.  It is the place where true transformation is found.  

I blessed the people protesting in Murrietta and blessed the women and children on that bus as they journey toward hope. Although the flag was waved in anger, it will always hold special meaning. It reminds me of my father and his belief in this place called the United States. I could not allow hate to replace his dreams of good.

However, I am also reminded there is something stronger in this world, something greater than nationality or speeches. It is what moves me to an indescribable place that no flag, country or song can replace. It is that a wounded, beautiful man was nailed to a cross. The arms of Christ, open in love and acceptance, embracing all of humanity. I will honor the flag for my father, struggle when it is used in hate, however, my life and everything about me is with Jesus. I will always follow Him and all that the cross represents. 


I pledge allegiance to the Lamb and to the Kingdom for which he stands. 

Monday, June 30, 2014

Hash Tag - Peace be with You



#Peacebewithyou.  Imagine the possibility of transforming hate in social media through the use of these four simple words.  "Peace be with you" to share the message of Christ to a world accepting of hate.

Social Media Sunday was encouraging and uplifting.  Episcopalians from across the globe, smiling, tweeting, posting and uploading.  I found a wonderful picture of a Priest taking a picture of the congregation from the pulpit and the congregation taking pictures of the Priest.  Everyone is comfortable clicking and sending.  Now what?  Yes, we are comfortable with Social Media, maybe too comfortable.  A quick read of various postings on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter and you are likely to encounter bullying, divisiveness and hate.  Is the time for a soul searching selfie?

I had the unsettling experience of reading an article on Facebook that described Governor Jan Brewer touring a holding facility for unaccompanied immigrant children.  While we were engaging in Social Media Sunday, others were posting vitriolic attacks and hate.  The article stated that Governor Brewer met with three of the young children detained.  I was encouraged by her initial statement "It is frustrating for us to go in there and look into their eyes, to see the hurt, to see the trauma that they've been put through."  Hope.   Yet, in the next breath she attacked the President, the system, the Federal Government.

Governor Brewers comments were then followed by people who felt inclined to share their comments on these children, immigrants and the government.  Many of the comments were vicious attacks on immigrants and children.  Just a sampling:  "They are all illegal, disease carrying vermin."   Another statement was equally as compassionate: "By all means. Let's secure our borders and keep these children stranded in Mexico."  In much the same way, a divinely inspired post: "We need to organize our militias, rescue our Marine, buy army surplus drones & start bombing their military compounds & ammo depots & for every illegal that trespasses, shoot on site."

What would lead a person to say such things?  What or who engenders such hate?  Maybe it is easy to sit at a computer or on your PDA and type out the venom in your heart.  The tendency to attack is seductive; throw a rock and see if it hits someone.  Yet, hate if allowed to flow freely throughout the social media world, it becomes a reality in our world.  It goes out into the world desperately seeking a host.

If Jesus were to read the Facebook posts, how would he react?   I doubt if he would ignore them. Yet, I cannot believe he would engage in simplistic arguments on the comments page.   Maybe those sacred fingers would begin typing "peace be with you" at every instance of hate on social media.  How can we be like Christ?

Sadly, hateful comments, vicious attacks and disparaging remarks have become commonplace.  So much so that many are dulled to their long lasting impact. As followers of Christ, we must challenge that hate.  We need to disarm and redeem through peaceful protest using our tweets, postings and snap chats.  A new form of non-violent action and the path is the information super highway.  This may be a new entrance into the  Kingdom of God.   Social Media non-violence is a way to confront the institutionalized freedom in social medial that compel many to attack, criticize, bully and isolate.

At every instance of hate, bullying or disparaging remark -  "peace be with you."  It does not matter whether we agree with the issue or not, let it be "peace be with you."  Those profound words of Christ may touch a heart and stem the flow of hate.   We can change the way we interact with one another through social media.  By challenging hate, we can prevent it from spreading through the world as it desperately seeks a host.  Our peace will force hate to wander through arid regions and never find a suitable place to grow.

Social media Sunday was the beginning, now we must take that next step.  Let us show the world something dramatic about our faith.   We believe in something greater, something hopeful, a beautiful transforming power that will change hearts and lives.  Maybe with "peace be with you,"  people will finally understand why we follow Him.   The Kingdom of God is near, let's bring it about with a post, a tweet, a smile, or a simple #peace be with you.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

700 Immigrant Children Detained - Who cares?

Recently, I opened the paper and there was nothing out of the ordinary.  The usual mundane and familiar stories of fear, nationalism, war, capitalism and political gamesmanship.  Ah, the same old world!  However, beneath the fold, an article on children apprehended crossing the border into the United States. Over 700 unaccompanied children from Mexico, Honduras, El Salvador and parts unknown who have undertaken a journey to escape violence, search for parents, seeking a new life, destined for an uncertain future.  The children will have a stay in a holding facility in New Mexico until the federal government decides what to do with them.  For many the certain deportation.  There is talk of amnesty all the while our government challenges the assertion that"a humanitarian crisis” exists in the United States.    The article describes similar holding places in Arizona and Texas. Another story about illegal immigrants down on that hot and dusty border; same old world.   

I am not using the term "children" loosely.  They immigrants are as young as 6 and others maybe 13, 14 or 16.  Children.  They are not gang members, drug dealers or criminals.   Well, technically some will argue they are criminals. They broke the laws of this country by undertaking this journey without an invitation.  The word “unaccompanied” is true.   A 10 year old child traveling thousands of miles with no money or protection.   A child trusting that somehow, somewhere they will find peace and safety.  

The article framed a picture of a small child covering his eyes.  It troubled me.  However, the story on the next page contained those things that make us tough and proud.  It described the high stakes competition between New Mexico, Arizona and Texas "inviting" a car company into the state (The same states who are housing the children).  A million maybe billion dollar taxpayer funded bidding war.  Who wants to read about uninvited immigrants seeking hope when you can plunge into the hopeful lure of money, jobs and growth.  One can imagine that corporate come hither look - "give us millions of dollars and we will choose you.  We will make all you dreams come true!"  Lost children vs. luxury cars. Oh, how that old order is beautiful.  

Yet, I found myself focusing on that picture of the immigrant child. He was 8 or 9, his small brown arm sticking out and covering his face.  Surrounded by forty or fifty other children on a floor in a holding cell. That small arm reminded me of my son, sleeping in a safe warm bed, dreaming of friends, school and childhood. I doubt this little boy was dreaming those same dreams.  Was he was thinking of his mom or dad and hoping he would see them soon?  Or praying with a childlike confidence to Jesus (that biblical come to me all you little children thing).  Hoping that the terror would subside and the nightmare would end.   What would the next day bring?

I was troubled because of my conscience.   The cold, hard truth  is that I am not being the hands and arms of Christ. The clatter of nationalism, consumerism and fear is drowning out the prophetic voice of Christ.  There are 700, 7,000 or 70,000 hurting and desperate children.  Children, crying out for someone to help.  Children, crying out to each one of us.  Why the silence?  I know that we stand and act with those society rejects, neglects and forgets.   We walk in pride marches, stock up food pantry’s and  volunteer at the shelter.   I turn on Facebook and view the posts about animals being chained and confined.  Sign the petition!   I am an Episcopal Priest spiritually formed by Monastics, Jesuits and Franciscans.  I am outraged by abuses against all of God's creation. Yet the silence on this tragedy is deafening.   Children waiting in the holding camps are bound to the chains economic oppression and confined by racism, nationalism and consumerism.  I pray they matter.  

I am tired of the excuses and arguments of that same old world.  The same excuses that both the US and Mexico must protect it’s borders and interests. Immigrants are neglected on both sides of the border, no one has the moralistic upper hand.  Cruelty is ignored in the name of law and order, nationalism and political careers.  Maybe Jesus was right when he spoke of the ending of the old and the beginning of the new.   The Kingdom of God is near, in fact, it is here right now.  All those rules, laws, economic structures, relationships must end.  A new way to look at people in this new world. Instead of shutting out people from countries, churches, homes and hearts, let’s do something radical.  Something unexpected where we let people in.  No, where we invite our brothers and sisters into those protected places like our country, our church, our home and our heart.  I seem remember that the only time Jesus talks separating people was in Matthew 25.  “Lord, when was it that we saw you…

After reading the article, I am reminded time and time again that with Christ there are no coincidences. Maybe Jesus is pointing to those little children sleeping on floors and our lackadaisical response.   “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”  

What will we preach this Sunday?  Maybe we can take a chance and really follow Jesus.  I do not think Jesus was joking when he said all these things.  I am tired of watching and waiting. There are children crying.   I know I have not done enough as a citizen and a Priest. I must do more, I am a follower of Jesus.  It starts today.  So President Obama what are you waiting for?  I was deeply moved when you said that Treyvon Martin could be what your son would look like if you had a son.  Mr. President please look at all those children in those detention centers as your children, as God’s children.  Mr. or Mrs. Representative of Congress have the courage to make the lives of those children more important than your next election.  Priest, Minister, Reverend, Pastor, follow him, speak out and up and none will lose the reward.  

Finally, for my brothers and sister who feel that laws and flags are more important than these children, or for those who believe these children are a little less than others, take a moment to imagine.  Imagine for one brief moment that young child sleeping alone on the floor of a detention cell is your child or the child of someone you love.  They are alone and confused.  Their cries cannot be soothed by rough blankets or national flags. Those small arms are reaching out to you.  What would you do?  Divide or embrace?  Listen or walk away?  You are the face of Jesus Christ.    


It is time to start bringing about that new world, that new kingdom that Jesus always talks about.  The possibility that we can bring that Kingdom starting with hundreds of  unaccompanied children, alone, afraid and sleeping in a cell along the border of our lives.  It starts now.   I pledge allegiance to the Lamb and to the Kingdom for which He stands. 

Saturday, June 07, 2014

Punching Holes in the Darkness

Today we celebrate Ascension Day.  A major feast in our Church calendar, but one often overlooked. We jump from Easter to Pentecost, and seemingly ignore the celebration where the risen Christ takes his place at the right hand of God.  

You would think that Jesus being reunited with the father is significant.  So why the obscurity?  As a child, my recollection of the Ascension story was through the pictures in Sunday school books.  Most have the similar memory of the scene in books.    Clear skies, rolling hills green meadows and 11 smiling Apostles waving at a floating Jesus, who is going up, up, up and away.

Even the opening in clouds is perfectly cut in a nice square so Jesus could slip right through. Bye Jesus.  However, the ascension is far more than that.  I suspect the reason Ascension Day resides in the festal shadows is that when Christ departs from this earth, the responsibility shifts.  

Previously, in all our encounters with the living God, it is God who initiates and takes responsibility for the relationship.   At Christmas, wrapped in human fles, the divine breaks the bounds of heaven, becomes incarnate and lives among us.  At the Last Supper – he integrates us with his being.  

In the Cross and at Easter we discover the ultimate act of his love and the assurance of our inclusion in God’s eternal plan.  At Pentecost – we are given the power of the spirit.   Up until this point, we haven’t exerted much effort.  

However, on Ascension Day, as Jesus is moving toward God, we are given the ultimate going way present:  we are entrusted with the continuation of his message and presence.   God places the responsibility of his voice, his life, his acceptance, his love with each one of us. 

Think of the enormity of the trust.  The divine, the creator, our God - asks each one of us – to be his witness on earth.    So for every word he spoke, every action he carried out, for every person on the margins he pulled into his arms we must do it, live it and proclaim it.  

We must love not only God, but love one another.  We are asked to become Christ to the world.     And the earth shattering realization is that God truly believes that we can do it.  If not, why would he ask it of us?   His simple words “You will be my witness.” And the Apostles took it to heart and did it. 

Think of this world if the disciples would have ignored those words.  Or if they kept looking for Christ in the clouds?  What if they sat around and waited for Jesus to return; hoping that he would come back and continue to do all the work? Or that someone else would do it.  Our world would be quite different.  

Even more disturbing - if the assembled followers  that day thought of Jesus only on Sunday and forgot about him the rest of the week.  After all, Jesus was not around.  Who would know? What difference would it make?  It made a world of difference.   

Followers of Christ stand out for helping the poor, the oppressed, the sick, and the excluded.  They gave Christ a voice in the world when other voices were silent.   Why?  Because as Jesus ascended, his love descended.  He left part of himself in the world.  And that meant something, he was part of them.

There is a story of a man who learned he was going blind.  He was a great lover of art; his career was dedicated to the preservation of great pieces.  As his sight began to fail, the man booked a plane to Amsterdam and spent a week in the Van Gogh museum.   Each day he stood for hours upon end looking at each of the paintings.   He wanted these images to soak into this brain as his last visual images.

So on that hilltop, all the assembled men, women and children did not wave goodbye, they soaked the image of Jesus into their beings.  They kept the vision of his physical being, but also his teachings, presence and grace.  Jesus was infused into their minds and his memory was etched in their hearts.  The Apostles instituted the practice of Christ rather than the terminology of religion.

Christ’s followers became blind to the world and made Christ their vision.  He was on their lips, in their hearts and on their minds.  They did not forget.   When their faith was challenged, they remembered his wounds.  When afraid, they remembered his loving embrace.  When angry, they remembered the way he played with children, and cried with Martha and Mary. 

Jesus colored their lives so completely, so when their hearts hardened, the Apostles remembered how Jesus touched the sick and accepted outcasts at his table.  When lonely, recalled how Christ laughed out loud.  When they could not go on, they heard his voice saying he would never leave their side.  The enormity of the trust. 

My favorite depiction of the ascension is a 19th century print.  The sky is cloudy and dark, as if a storm is raging all around.   In the middle of the clouds is a break, as if someone had punched a hole in the darkness.   Rays of light illuminate men, women, children, short, tall, young, and the elderly.   

The light of Christ shines on each one.  Their faces radiate, they seem transformed – as if they were becoming something new.  The love in their hearts seems to leap off the page.  

It reminded me of the hour immediately following a heavy downpour.   The dark massive clouds blanket the sky.  Yet for a moment, through a small break in the clouds, white shafts of afternoon light the earth. The light is soft, yet bright and it allows you to see details often hidden from our daily sight. 

New shades of greens and blues are revealed.  Leaves become brighter, clouds lighter and the world exposes its depth and beauty.     For a few seconds something new is revealed.  Then suddenly the clouds close, the light shifts and then it is gone.  In a stable in Bethlehem, a hole was punched in the darkness of sin; the light became flesh and dwelt among us.  

In Jesus’ Ascension, a hole was punched in the darkness of humanity, and the earth was illuminated in a light that allowed us to see the world, and one another in a different way.  By his Ascension we are called be the light, to illuminate Christ message of love, faith, acceptance.  Not only to those we like or those we know, but to everyone.

Christ is calling us to be his witness.  In this sanctuary, in our homes, communities, and in this nation.   This responsibility is not only for Priests, Deacons or the devoutly religious; Jesus asks each one of us carry it.  We all are graced with the same inherent collective memory of Christ.  Like the  Apostles, Jesus is infused into our minds, his memory etched in our hearts.  It is who we are.  

It is an awesome responsibility.  Many ask “how can I bring Christ into this world?”  Well - Justice, equality and acceptance are what love looks like in a public setting.   Bring forth his light.  If you question if you can truly make a difference in Christ’ name, try it, one person at a time.   Jesus encountered people individually, and they were transformed one loving action at a time.  

Those he transformed reached out to others and they too were transformed.  It spread to the ends of the earth.  If each one of us makes a conscious effort to punch holes in the darkness, in the name of justice, acceptance and love, the brilliance of Christ’s light would diminish the sun.  

When we punch holes in the clouds for the forgotten, we might have the ability to recognize the plight of our brothers and sisters who are homeless, victims of slavery, addiction, the sex trade, all the poor 

Punch a hole in the clouds for those on margins, those who are victims of abuse of all kinds, sexism, racism, classism  all the “isms” that cripple our society.   We must step forward and allow his light to shine before the dark finality of despair overcomes the light of hope.

So today as we contemplate Jesus moving toward God, my brothers and sisters become the messengers of his light, of his love.   Take this gift of responsibility, and make a difference in the world.  Shine your light on those instances of bigotry, exclusion and hate.


Your love in the name of Christ can punch holes through the darkest clouds of injustice.  One person at a time, one encounter at a time, one loving action upon another.  Only your light can reflect his beauty to the world