Redeem This...

Liturgy is a pattern. The order of worship and the calendar of the Church are the unfolding of life itself. Good Friday is, of course, not only a twenty-four hour period for penitence. It is the darkness of our lives, and it is played out in the most dramatic horror that we can fathom: the death of God's only Son. Easter Sunday is not, then, a mimicry of resurrection and new life. It is hope laid out anew, pulsing some type of light back into the darkness.

But both days end, and Easter Tide rolls on and will slowly melt away into Ordinary time with the coming of Pentecost. These may be a lot of strange words that mean nothing to the reader; regardless, we all know the dragging grind of life and the interplay between life and death. These are the absolutes of human experience. To be alive is to expect death, but death cannot exist without life. Somewhere in the middle of these forces resides the peril of human thought and the crucible of faith. It generates the questions that drive humans mad, or gives them life. Why believe, believe what, or simply, why?

We never stop asking these questions. Whether we ask them of God or the stars or just the silence of our souls we all ask them. I am soon to be an Anglican priest, which in part means I have to take reality very seriously. This is called being "sacramental," which is just a big word meaning the very real stuff of this world communicates the most fundamental truths of the universe (whether you call that spiritual, divine, holy, or Godly). In other words, all this spiritual talk doesn't "float between our ears."

My family has experienced waves of death in the past three years. Grandparents, parents, siblings, and even children have been lost.

And we miss them...

That loss, for example, communicates the despair of the human condition. Death is the great and looming threat of loss that stains every single, beautiful reality of this world. It is not "simply" anything, as in being 'natural,' or 'routine,' or 'normal.' Death is the abyss, the final threat. And there is no beauty in it.

If death is a sign for the swallowing up of all beauty, then new life is the promise that all will be made well. This Easter Sunday I held my month-old-daughter in my arms, and she was baptized today, a week later. Her life is a sign, a type of witness of change, of making new. Maybe redemption. By this I mean that if God works this way, then her little life may be a demonstration that some things, at least, will be healed. But this is only a sign.

Because, of course, I will lose her, too, and she will lose me. To be Christian is not to ignore death, or hold resurrection as a type of comfort blanket when death reaches out to us. Instead, it is to walk in the valley of the shadow of death. This is the Christian story itself, that the Author of life took on much shadow and the weight of human flesh so that even the deceased could taste resurrection. It's a promise, to be taken on faith and in the midst of our sufferings. It is certainly not an escape. It is only more horrible because of how much we value life. Life is everything, and if a God can't save that, He's not worth having.

I certainly don't have neat answers to these questions or these problems, so I end this with a blessing for all of you this Eastertide: May you have peace in the midst of life, but especially in death. May you find life in shadow. May you receive love, even the love of God. May you find forgiveness, even if you must forgive yourself. May you find deliverance, even if you are lost.

May the God of hope guard your hearts and minds in all things, for Christ came to bind up what was broken, to heal the afflicted, and to die for us all. I pray you all many, many mercies this evening.

"I've just had an apostrophe." "I think you mean an Epiphany."

Most of you hopefully recognized this line from one of the most iconic films in recent history. The movie, of course, is Hook (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsB2KGaX6bg) and it is appropriate because today is Epiphany. January 6 is a day set aside in the Church to reflect upon the revelation of God the Son in the human being, Jesus of Nazareth. For Christians this seems a no-brainer;"Jesus equals God the Son. No problem here; I agree. Let's move on," we might say. For those outside the Church I am sure this seems to be another superfluous holiday meant to reinforce dogma and offer very little to the secular world. I want to suggest both Christians and non-Christians can take away so much from this day, whether one officially recognizes it as a holiday (Holy Day) or not.

Behind this entire discussion rests one incredibly important question: What does it mean to know the face of God? Now, before I lose some of the readers who aren't interested in God to begin with, let's rephrase the question; this will be helpful for theists as well. Do we ever brush up against something in our lived experience that defies explanation, that suggests the world actually does not revolve around us, and when we encounter this power/force/feeling/being it leaves us with a sense of awe, humility, and maybe even breathless awareness that there is something Great in the universe hiding just behind a vapor-thin veil? This can happen in a myriad of ways, of course. Perhaps in something as miraculous as watching your child be born. Maybe it happens during a long meal with your best friends, when you lean back from the table and look around at faces you love more than you thought possible. Or it can happen in moments of horrible sorrow, like when you watch a parent weep over a dying child and you know the only reason they can and must suffer this is because they love the little one more than life itself.

Whether complex or simple, jubilant or terrible, these moments come and, sometimes, leave us wondering. Was that newborn just another organism entering the human herd? Is this affection for friends just a chemical reaction to good wine and the biological effects of laughter? Is death just the universe's cold reminder that we don't really matter to anyone in anyway at anytime? Maybe so. Maybe so...or...

There is something to be known about the other side of the veil. There is something or someone pressing into our world and willing us to taste life and death in the most beautiful and bizarre moments of our short lives. And, here's the crux: sacramental Christians believe this does not happen in the ether of our spiritual imaginations! God is not floating between your ears; He's working in the world. To believe in a Creator is to believe that Creation offers footprints and fingerprints to those who look, that beauty is not an accident and that everything from sunsets to sex says something about God. Indeed, pressing into Creation is pressing into the mind of God Himself. God has left signs, ranging from birth, marriage, and families to reproduction, the seasons, and even the simplest machinations...like how fire dancing over a fragrant pine log could be called beautiful.

So what's the point? The best we can deduce is that God might be communicating Himself through the world. But there is still Christ. And for the skeptical let's not even talk about the claims made by the Church about who Jesus was; let's just stick to the phenomenon that over two millennia have passed since a lower class, Jewish man named Yeshua walked around for three years or so, taught a lot about ethics and also made some subtle claims that He was bringing light and life to the world. And to prove it, his followers claimed that people were being healed in his wake. Then, by all contemporary accounts he was crucified before he rose from the dead. Now the point is not in these details, the point is that whatever happened two thousand years ago, people are still talking about it. And (here's my bias) I think it was because the people that met Jesus came face to face with the reality we've been discussing in this post. Everyone from the poor to the rich, from the elites to the outcasts, were brushing up against the unexplainable miracle that was this man, and it left them either wanting more or to destroy it.

As a member of Christ's Church I want to say that this is knowing the face of God: it's finding the miracle of God working in the world all around us all the time. And these revelations point back to the point in history where God chose to no longer work through Creation but within and alongside Creation in the body and being of Jesus Christ. I say this not merely as a point of dogma, but as a brief flash of hope to some of us who really need life again. We're weary of that veil and at times the world bears down over our souls. Perhaps knowing Jesus is the most certain step towards knowing God:

"Behold, my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved with whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit upon him...and in his name the Gentiles will hope." - Matthew 12:18, 21