Easter 7 B + Treasure + 5.12.24
M. Campbell-Langdell
All Santos, Oxnard
(Acts 1:15–17, 21–26; Ps.
1; 1 John 5:9–13; John 17:6–19)
On Wednesday we celebrated the feast of Julian of Norwich at
the closing Eucharist of our clergy conference in Riverside, and, reflecting on
Julian’s loving image of God, Bishop John Taylor described us a “people who by
grace know that all creation is made in love, saved in love, and bathed in
love.”[1]
Love. That is really what today is all about. I am sensitive
to the fact that, while Mother’s Day can truly feel like a celebration of
Mother-love, it doesn’t feel filled with love for all. Some did not have good
mother figures, or have lost their mother or child, or feel somehow “less than”
because they don’t fit the “biological mother” category. I relate! But I would
like to gravitate towards the archetype of Mother-love, of nurture.
Saint Julian of Norwich saw Jesus as a type of mother, one who gives us nurture
and spiritual nutrition. And surely the meal of the communion, in which he
feeds us of himself, is a space of much nourishment for so many of us.
The word “Mother” also brings to mind the movie about “the
Philadelphia Eleven[2]”
that we watched with the clergy conference on Tuesday afternoon and which, if
you wish, we can also screen here at church. It highlights some sacred
“mothers” of the church, eleven brave women and four more who followed them,
all white due to the demographics of those who were prepared at the time, but
who were ordained in a historically African-American church in July 1974, and
then the second group the next year in DC. The film feels like a martyrology.
None of them were directly killed due to their actions, but all suffered. One
was so traumatized that she left the church and lived off the grid for 25 years
in a cabin with no running water or electricity! Some were biological mothers
when ordained, and some weren’t, but all wished to mother the church. To lead
it into a new day.
One priest stood up on Wednesday morning to share his story
with his clergy colleagues. He was ordained in 1974 also and he was taught
there was a correct way to do everything. The correct and only way to lead
liturgy, hold the chalice, and so forth. Perfection was demanded. And then these
women came in and messed everything up! Not to say many women clergy aren’t
excellent liturgists, but we tend to be just a bit less strict and a bit more
relational in our leadership. This attribute is not always contained in a
certain gender package, and I want to acknowledge that I am embracing a
cisgender model here that may need to be expanded a bit also to embrace
motherliness in all gender expressions.
But needless to say, one of the benefits of expanding whom we ordain and
consecrate as bishops has been a widening. An embracing not only of paternal
and maternal leadership in the church, but also of connecting with the divine
in a new way. How do we connect with the maternal aspects of God – Jesus as a
mother hen gathering in her chicks? How do we feel the embrace of the mother
who cannot fall short but just loves and welcomes?
Because we humans are imperfect, and the more we embrace
imperfection as a gift, the more we seek the only perfection we can find in
God. The love of God, even as we try to imperfectly express this love to each
other. Jesus, praying for his disciples today, wishes to infuse his followers
with love and peace. He wishes to protect them from a world which, still
wracked with sin, will sometimes be hostile and strange, both within the church
and outside of it. We are in the world, we love the world because God loved the
world, but we are also a bit outside of the world, in that, ultimately, nothing
we truly value can be found here.
When we remember that our treasure is with our Heavenly
Mother, in the embrace of the kindest one, we instinctively know that nothing
we can do can really separate us from the love of God. We are like trees
planted by streams of living water. Our branches may try to wander but when we
dig into our roots, we know who and whose we are. We feel the water of love
gushing up into our roots, filling us from top to bottom.
But we also know a reality – we will still fail; as humans we
fail over and over. In the reading from Acts today, we are reminded that Judas
messed up. Thus, they needed to replace him, to complete the twelve. The twelve
who represent a renewal of God’s promises to the twelve tribes of Israel. Some
will rightly point out that Judas also fulfilled scripture and may have had a
role in Jesus’ glory. But his failure, some have pointed out, was not just in
betraying Jesus. It was in not trusting God to judge him kindly and therefore
in taking the judgment upon himself. This is not to condemn suicides- I truly
believe that God is so much more kind and loving than us, and if we can forgive
our loved ones who choose to end their lives even for a minute, God can run to
them and gather them into God’s loving maternal arms.
But to return to Judas, let us juxtapose him with Peter. Peter denies him. He
does not betray Jesus but it is pretty darn close. So, what distinguishes them?
In part because he sticks around. He must have been wracked with guilt and terrified
when he saw Jesus again. I am going to hear it now; he must have thought. And
instead, he finds love, forgiveness and an invitation to lead again, as long as
he is willing to love and care for Jesus’ beloved sheep. He trusted God to give
the testimony, and gained eternal life.
Still, we are human, and that means not one of us is going to
get through this life without messing up. Will we do so as spectacularly as
Judas or Peter? I don’t know. But we may still feel we have allowed ourselves
to get distant from God. So, we must be willing to come to God and say “I
messed up.”
One of the commentators I listened to this week said a great thing. Joy J Moore
said that even as we know God will welcome us back, we must also be communities
that model God’s grace, albeit in our imperfect human way. She said, we have to
let folks come to us and say “I messed up,” and be able to respond “I messed up
too, come home.”[3]
Come home. Isn’t that the call of our Mother God to us? How
can we allow ourselves to be called home, and in turn call another beloved
child of God home? Home to receive grace. Not home to act out or harm others,
but home to repent and be renewed. We all want to be restored.
This week, I was wandering around the farmer’s market briefly
and saw my buddy Noe, one of our unhoused neighbors. He had a dollar, asked for
a bit more cash to buy an ear of corn and fortunately I had just enough. He
gave me a hug and I realized that is the love of our Mother God right there-
mutual care and just seeing each other as fellow siblings in God’s kingdom. The
world has placed barriers between us, but we are free. We are loved.
In one scene in “The Philadelphia Eleven,” the women priests
are lined up at an altar, saying that they will take communion last because the
leader must be the servant, and that everyone will give communion to each other
because that is how we must be, all spiritually feeding each other. We are not
perfect. We will all mess up. But God is good and continually gives us all
opportunities for renewal and for expanding ourselves beyond society’s boxes.
We are free. We are loved. We are worthy even though imperfect. Thanks be to
God, who is Mother, Father and transcends all labels! Amen.
[1]
John Harvey Taylor, from sermon of 8 May 2024, posted on his personal Facebook
page.
[3]
Joy J. Moore, from “Sermon Brainwave” podcast for May 12, 2024: #964:
Seventh Sunday of Easter – May 12, 2024 - Working Preacher from Luther Seminary.
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