I’d like you to think back a moment, if you can, to 1970. What were you doing in 1970? It’s a lifetime ago and some of us were not even born then but most of us were. If it helps, 1970 was the year that Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Bridge over Troubled Water’ was at the top of the charts. I was in secondary school and planning to become a missionary in Ethiopia. Anyone else care to share what you were doing?

A few other things happened that year: the US invaded Cambodia, Apollo 13 made it to the moon and back, four students were killed at Kent State, and the Beatles split up.

It was also the year that growing concern about pollution led to the first Earth Day and the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency. Since then, the Clean Air Act and the end of leaded gas have enormously reduced pollution. But at the same time, carbon dioxide in the atmosphere has increased by 30%,[i]  the average temperature has increased by 2.8 degrees (F), and sea levels have risen by over 6 inches.

Even though we think of God as the Creator and scripture starts with the creation of the cosmos, the Church was slow to catch on to the need to focus on the environment. Although Earth Sunday started to be celebrated in 1970 it wasn’t until twenty years later that churches began a serious focus on Creation each September.

Like everyone else, we pretty much took nature for granted. And some of our ideas have helped to alienate humanity from the rest of Creation. We can see now that these are distortions of the gospel but for generations they have been unexamined. The first is that humanity is in charge of the show – that we were created to dominate the rest of Creation. Although it seems that we have a particular role in Creation, the idea of dominion which comes from Genesis is contradicted by the New Testament and also by our lived reality. The second is that we are just passing through this life and what’s important is what happens next. The implication is that this world simply doesn’t matter. This is directly opposite to Jesus’ teaching.

But we are heirs to a tradition that tells us that humanity is more important than anything else and that takes the natural world for granted, in fact sees it as less important than human flourishing. And so we have failed to see our dependence on insects for pollination and we use insecticides so that we can eat fruit and vegetables without blemishes; we failed to see that when we cut down the rain forest to grow beef for cheap hamburgers or for palm oil we are cutting the very source of our planetary flourishing.

In the 26 years since that first Earth Day we have become increasingly aware of the connections between every part of Creation and we are witnessing devastating effects of our effect on the planet. I don’t need to spell out the effects of climate change or remind you of the decline of non-human species. Since 1970 there has been a decline of 70% in the number of vertebrate wild critters.

The roots of our current environmental crisis are spiritual. And that’s where we come in, as agents of transformation. Yes we are smaller than a mustard seed, but the promise is that the reign of God starts very small, in fact starts very small and hidden in the soil but can grow into a large shrub that provides safe haven for birds and insects and food for animals.

We are coming to realize that the cross is not just a symbol of God’s love and God’s participation in human suffering, it’s not just a symbol of our personal connection to Jesus, but rather it is a symbol of God’s participation in the suffering of all Creation. Wherever there is pain, there is God. And wherever there is resistance to the powers who crucify Creation for their own ends, there is the cross and there is the power of the cross.

And wherever the cross is, there too is the seed of resurrection. And my friends, we are the people of resurrection.

There’s a passage in Romans 8 which was not selected for our readings today because the readings are focused primarily on the importance of non-human animals, but there is a passage which talks about the whole of Creation waiting as if on tiptoe for the people of God to realize their true identity in Christ.

And why is Creation waiting so eagerly for us?

Because we are the mustard seed. The redemption of the cosmos is already secure but is being worked out through us. As we realize our identity as the daughters and sons of the living God we can move ahead without fear, knowing that ultimately nothing can harm us as we are held in the love of the Godhead. And so we can stand up against the powers that are harming this world, just as Jesus did.

And those powers are not hidden. Every day we see them writ large – might is right, we are entitled to take whatever we want. The future of the planet is unimportant in comparison to current desires and industrial growth and growth is limitless.

These, my friends, are not the values of the reign of God. The fruits of the Spirit are non-violence, love, joy, peace, sharing and patience. The people of the Spirit live with open hands, giving and receiving generously, not holding on to what they have, holding everything lightly as a gift from God to be shared.

This is the alternative community we are called to create and to live. One which understands and acknowledges the deep web which connects all of life, all of the cosmos. A community which practices non-violence, love and gentle forbearance. A community which honors the earth and all who live in and on her as members of God’s body just as we are.

A great deal has changed since 1970. And much of it for the better. Women have many more opportunities now than then, and so do LGBTQ folk. Change does happen though it may take a lifetime.

And that gives us hope. It gives us hope that our attempts to bring the reign of God in Morro Bay and beyond, our attempts to embody the Sermon on the Mount, our intention to live in harmony with all beings will bear fruit. That this little church, this faith community might be like that mustard seed.

And that we might grow into something that looks very different, something that may appear to human eyes to be totally separate, but the Spirit will know that it grew out of the mustard seed of a small group of people living the Gospel.

the Rev. Dr. Caroline Hall


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[i] https://abc7.com/post/earth-day-how-planets-climate-has-changed-first-1970/16222484/#:~:text=It%20is%20now%20rising%20at,Force%20on%20Sea%20Level%20Change.

There are three scenes in the Bible which I find particularly touching.

The first one comes in Genesis 7. Noah and his family have gone into the ark with all the animals. And God shuts the door behind them. Don’t you love that? I imagine God checking them all off – two tarantulas, two bumble bees, and finally two ground squirrels – that’s the lot – and then closing the door gently behind them as the storm darkens and the flood waters rise.

The second one comes from the life of Moses. He’s up the mountain with God – this is in Exodus chapter 33 – he’s up the mountain and he asks to see God’s face. But God says that he is too bright – Moses cannot see him and live. So God puts Moses into a cleft in the rock and covers him with his hand as he passes by. Then he moves his hand and Moses can see his back. Isn’t that wonderful? God gently protects Moses and lets him see his back.

The third scene is from today’s gospel reading. These two disciples don’t recognize Jesus until he breaks the bread, and just as he blesses it and breaks it their eyes and opened and… he disappears.
And isn’t that just like God? Whenever we think we are finally in touch with the living God she turns a corner and all that is left is the scent of her perfume.

Callie shared with me yesterday that she went to meet with a wise monk and, having  carefully laid out for him everything that she was concerned about, she expected him to give her some wisdom that would move her forward. He sat silently for a few minutes and then said, “It is a mystery…”

Darn.

God is so intimately connected with us that he closes the door of the ark and he covers Moses eyes but lets him see his back, and he is known in the simple act of breaking a loaf of bread two thousand years ago and again today in our Eucharist, and yet at the same time God is the ultimate mystery.

Over this past year I have offered a number of workshops on different topics – this last week we talked about the cross, a conversation that was postponed from Lent – and each time we have been groping together towards deeper understanding because God is both intimately knowable and ultimately unknowable - and we approach the things of God through metaphor and symbol and lived experience.

We are all mystics.

The Holy Spirit teaches us and guides us and dances ahead of us always pulling us forward but whenever we think we have arrived, or whenever we think we have grasped a truth there is always more. Our questions and our doubts take us deeper. God reveals Godself to us as we ask the questions, as we wonder and ponder and listen for the answers which themselves lead to more questions.

I have always wished that I could have been on the road to Emmaus that evening. Luke tells us that “beginning with Moses and all the prophets, [Jesus] interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.” But I was not there and so I am left with my questions.

In today’s New York Times an elderly nun, Mary Kay, is quoted as saying, “I hear people talk about this beautiful relationship with Jesus… mine is not like that. It is a little more questioning and mystery. That is why it is called faith.”

I think that is true for most of us. We may have experiences of God’s presence, we may have dreams or see visions or just have a deep knowing, but those moments are fleeting. More often we are like the disciples walking along the road dealing with the sadness of life, the grief of friends dying, of hearts broken and we don’t realize that God is walking beside us. We don’t recognize the presence of the Spirit until we invite him in to stay for a while.

And that invitation is important. Jesus would have continued along the road until he was out of sight, and the disciples would never have recognized him. But that’s not what happened because they did invite him in.

My friends, we cannot force the Holy Spirit to reveal God to us but we can invite. We can create the possibility for a deeper knowing of God by our own actions, by our own attention and intention; by taking time to intentionally open ourselves to God, whether in meditation or prayer or by allowing the beauty of nature to touch us and quiet our thoughts.

When we are expecting guests for dinner we prepare; we make food, we set the table. When we are hoping that Jesus will accept the invitation and come in from the road, we set the table of our hearts and we open the door. We sit down and open our inner selves to something and someone bigger, to the God who is always there walking beside us, making sure the door is closed against the storm and our eyes are not hurt by the light.

The mystical experience of God is a gift of grace. It Is not something we can earn or something we can buy. But it is something we can invite. It is something we can prepare ourselves for.

And what an honor when God reveals Godself among us.

That is what leads to deep transformation of life and that is what life everlasting truly is, a life lived in the knowledge of the presence of God. Like the nun, Mary Kay, we may not experience a beautiful life with Jesus – it may be more questioning and mystery, but it was draws us forward. It is what gives us hope and joy and peace.

So today as we come to the Eucharist together, let us consciously invite the presence of the Christ. Let us open ourselves to the possibility that today Jesus will be known to us in the breaking and taking of the bread. Let us allow ourselves to be filled with the Christ and renewed for the work of transformation.

And even if we feel nothing. Even if the bread stubbornly remains just a dry wafer, let us remember that even in the questioning and the mystery, Jesus is still present. That is why it is called faith.

the Rev. Dr. Caroline Hall
 
 
 
 
 

The Lord is Risen!

He is Risen indeed, Alleluia

The Marys were in shock. The scripture says “they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy.” What a mixture – fear and great joy. Something was terribly wrong yet maybe, just maybe, something was terribly right and good. They had been distraught since Friday and now they were finally able to go to the tomb where the remains of their beloved Jesus were… and they’re not there. But there’s an angel. An angel who says that he has been raised. And as they run to tell the other disciples, there he is. Jesus. Alive.

Centuries after that first Easter morning, the world still does not recognize the risen Jesus or understand the empty tomb. It does not recognize the truth that Jesus brought. The truth that violence is not the way forward. That only love conquers violence and ends the cycle of retaliation.
That is the message of Easter.

Jesus died, because of his message of non-violent resistance to oppression of every kind, because of his message of deep love. He was really executed, really dead. And yet, because of the love of God which animates all things he was raised to life again, a new life, a resurrected life.

Love is greater than violence of any kind. Perhaps we do not always remember the power of love because we think of it in terms of close human relationship. We think of the excitement of romantic love or the close bond of parent and child. Yet love is much more than that; it is not a mushy sentimental Hallmark kind of thing but a clear-seeing intentional will-to-good. The deep love that Jesus showed is the love that conquers all things.

But the Marys didn’t know that. They didn’t know it was Easter. They knew great fear, and joy. All the disciples knew was that their lives had been turned upside down. The unthinkable had happened.
Resurrection is not resuscitation. Resurrection does not mean that things go back to the way they were. In fact, it means quite the opposite. Resurrection means that things change. Jesus is changed. We are changed. In the resurrections of our personal lives, in the resurrections of our social and political lives, things change. And it’s often not comfortable.
 
Butterflies are a symbol of resurrection. The caterpillar eats and eats and grows and grows until one day it stops, goes still and apparently dies. Inside the cocoon it auto-digests itself, until it is nothing but green goo. Then, amazingly, its DNA rereads itself and transforms it into an adult butterfly. I can’t imagine what happens to the consciousness of the creature in this process. When it is just protected goo, does it know that it is goo? Does it go into a suspended state of consciousness? Or does it hover somewhere waiting until the goo resolves itself and then re-enters its body?

I have no idea. But what I do know is that we humans do something rather similar. When we are transformed, when disaster hits, when grief happens, we are reduced to a state of goo. Nothing is stable, it’s all like jello. Yet out of the goo comes resurrection.

We don’t know what happened to Jesus after he was placed in the tomb and before the Marys saw him that first Easter morning. Our ancestors believed that he went to hades, perhaps to bring back those who were there, or perhaps to look for his friend Judas. Perhaps Jesus found himself in a state of goo. After the horror and agony of his death, was he ready to just get up and go, already completely the resurrected Christ? Or did he, human as he was, require a time of change, a time of protection in the cave of the tomb, while he transformed and adjusted to his new resurrection body?

Our God is a God of resurrection. After disaster there is always resurrection, if we choose it. But it is rarely immediate, and we often do not recognize it when it comes. In the middle of our pain and confusion, we don’t know that it’s Easter. When we are reduced to goo, we don’t realize that we are being transformed. When we are in great fear we cannot easily find the joy.

It is difficult to look at our world, at the environmental disaster, the devastation of Iran, Lebanon and Gaza, the ongoing war in Ukraine, the millions starving in Sudan, the plight of immigrants amid politics of hate: it is almost impossible to look at all that and see in it resurrection.

But we are an Easter people and we are called to see, not with rose-tinted glasses but with the perspective of that deep love that Jesus showed us. We must do all we can to alleviate suffering, but we can also know that out of this too, God will bring resurrection. God is already at work in the goo, bringing resurrection.

It doesn’t look that way. It looks as if the tomb is empty and God has deserted God’s people. It looks like a mess from which there will be no deliverance. But we are given hope. We are the Marys coming to the tomb; we can see the stone rolled away and intuit the presence of the angels. We are the ones who know that love conquers; that even when human love fails and we revert to our violent ways, God’s love still triumphs.

For Jesus’ resurrection shows that even when humans do their very worst, even when they betray and lie and torture and kill, God still loves. God still keeps coming back offering a different way. In the middle of the goo we don’t recognize Easter, but it is there, it is here. God is transforming us and the whole of Creation.

And we are called to be a part of it. We are called to keep faith. To know that the resurrected and ascended Christ will one day put all things right. That is part of the movement of Creation – that all will be reconciled with God. Our task is to continue to hold that resurrection hope, to continue to look for the things that God is doing and to cooperate with the Holy Spirit in doing them.

We are a resurrection people, and we serve an Easter God.
Alleluia!

the Rev. Dr. Caroline Hall