Author Archives: djgrieser

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About djgrieser

I have been Rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Madison, WI since 2009. I'm passionate about Jesus Christ and about connecting our faith and tradition with 21st century culture. I'm also very active in advocating for our homeless neighbors.

Radical Hospitality

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Grace Church has opened its doors over the years to the Madison community. The Drop-In Shelter and the Food Pantry are the most obvious examples of our hospitality, but we also host meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous and other community groups. But there is much more we can do.

While our courtyard is often bustling with activity, some of it occasionally unwelcomed, during the week our greatest resource, the sanctuary, remains closed to the public except for the Wednesday Eucharist. On Saturday mornings when Capitol Square is full of people, the corner of Carroll and West Washington is quiet. In general our space is underutilized and unwelcoming. Visitors have a hard time negotiating the labyrinth that is our building complex, and many of our spaces are dark and dingy.

In the coming months, I will be working with Grace’s members and lay leadership to think about how we might make our church a more welcoming place and how we might enhance the quality of life in Capitol Square.  There are large problems with high price tags, but there are also small things, relatively inexpensive that we can do. For example, could we open the doors of the sanctuary on Saturday mornings to people who might want to come in and look around or enjoy the silence and beauty of our church?

One change in our liturgy to increase accessibility and demonstrate our hospitality is that we will soon offer gluten-free wafers for those worshipers who cannot eat wafers made of wheat.

New Ministry

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I have a great deal to learn about Grace, but at least I know how to get from my office to the sacristy and back again. What I am finding most interesting about new ministry is that I have suddenly appeared in the lives of the people of Grace. This week I met with a family who will be celebrating the baptism of their young son this fall. I also did a committal service for a family whose mother and grandmother had been a member of Grace and who were finally able to get together to place her ashes (inurn) in our columbarium.

Beyond those familiar rituals are the stories I am entering, the spiritual lives of the people of Grace. The image of a journey or pilgrimage has a long history in the Christian tradition. Augustine of Hippo used it of himself, of the church (the city of God in its earthly pilgrimage) and of individuals. The power of the image is that we come together for a time, each of us on our own pilgrimage, to journey together. How long that common journey will be is known to God. However long, it is our task to help each other on the way.

The Bread Zone: A Sermon for Proper 14, Year B

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Corrie and I have been overwhelmed by the welcome members of Grace have extended to us since our arrival in Madison last week. There was a huge basket on the kitchen counter when we opened the door of our new home. It was filled with lots of information about Grace Church and Madison. More importantly, it was filled with lots of goodies—coffee and chocolate, crackers and cheese, wine. Some of those goodies we ate for our evening meal that Wednesday night; some of them we are still nibbling on. Even the cats were included in Grace’s hospitality. They are still enjoying the catnip treats they received.

In the days since our arrival, there has been a common theme. Almost everyone I meet from Grace says something about being excited at my arrival. But it’s not just Grace. I was at a meeting with the bishop, clergy, and parishioners from the Madison area on Tuesday night, and members of other Episcopal churches came up to me and said the same thing, that they were excited.

Frankly, it’s a bit scary, and just a little bit weird, too. But at the same time, I’ll confess, I’m excited, too. I’m excited about the call to be your rector; I’m excited about the future, about the great things that God has in store for us in our shared ministry, and I’m also excited about living in Madison.

That having been said, today’s gospel brings us back to the reality of what we are about here in this place. We heard again from the sixth chapter of John’s gospel; it’s the third week in a row for a reading from that chapter, and after today, there will be two more weeks. We have entered what I call the “bread zone” and preachers dread it because it always falls in the summer when attentions are low and attendances tend to be to. We dread it because the effort to say something different five weeks in a row about essentially the same biblical text forces us into all sorts of contortions. Thankfully, I’m appearing mid-way through the series, so I have to worry only about three weeks, not five.

This five-week long digression into the gospel of John interrupts our reading of the gospel of Mark in this year of the three-year lectionary cycle. Mark is the shortest of the four gospels, so in order to make it last for the whole year, the editors of the lectionary intersperse readings of the Gospel of John at various points. We are in John now because we are at that point of the story in the Gospel of Mark where we heard the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand. That miracle is unique, because it is the only one of Jesus’ miracles to be clearly mentioned in all four gospels.

John as you may know tells a very different story about Jesus than Matthew, Mark, and Luke, the synoptic gospels. Among the most striking differences among them is John’s recounting of Jesus’ miracles. There is almost no overlap between John and the synoptics’ miracles, none except this story, the feeding of the five thousand. The presence of that story in all four gospels marks its significance for the Christian communities that were writing the gospels. They linked Jesus’ miraculous gift of food to this crowd, to the Eucharist. In the synoptic telling of the miracle, Jesus is described with exactly the same words that are used when describing his actions at the last supper, words we continue to use at each celebration of the Eucharist.

It’s clear that we are headed toward a discussion of the Eucharist in this text, but this week, there is something else at stake. The passage begins with one of Jesus’ most familiar sayings, “I am the bread of life, Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

In the gospel of John no matter how powerful or spectacular the miracle, there is always a deeper meaning that needs to be explicated. It’s easy for readers of the Gospel, for contemporary Christians to be distracted by the miracle stories. They raise all sorts of questions for us. Those of us with a more skeptical mind, a scientific background, are going to query the text—could that really happen? Did it really happen? Others, more credulous perhaps, don’t doubt the miracle, in fact think the miracle is the point, it proves Jesus is God’s Son.

But in the gospel of John, miracles are not about the miraculous. Miracles point to something deeper, more profound, and the temptation for the readers of the gospel, just as the gospel writer suggested those who saw the miracles were also tempted, the temptation is for us to stay with the miracle, to focus on it, rather than on its deeper meaning.

Jesus teases out the deeper meaning of this particular miracle in a lengthy discourse. “I am the bread of life” he says, but lest we too quickly assume he is alluding to the Eucharist, he says more, “whoever comes to me will never be hungry, whoever believes in me will never thirst. Jesus is not talking about physical hunger or thirst, physical eating and drinking, not even the bread and wine of the Eucharist. Rather, he is referring to something else. Just as in his encounter with the Samaritan woman in chapter 4 of the gospel, when he tells her if you drink from the water I give you, you will live forever, here food and drink refer to him, they refer to his message and his gift of life.

Later in this passage, Jesus will chide his opponents with reference to the miracle of manna given to the Hebrews in the wilderness. Unlike manna, which lasted for a single day, Jesus is the bread that comes down from heaven and whoever eats from it will live forever. There is another allusion here, pointing to a verse in Deuteronomy, where Moses tells the Israelites “Man cannot live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

This language of food and drink, hunger and thirst, is so powerful for us because food and drink are necessities for existence. Like the woman at the well who asked Jesus where she might get the water that would quench her thirst forever, our lives can be consumed by the quest for food and drink. One of the powerful images that confronts me each day as I come to work at Grace Church is the scene of people who come to this place looking for food from the Pantry or a bed for the night. That search can be an all-consuming one for people in their situation. They have no time, energy, or inclination to look for anything deeper.

For most of us who live with adequate financial means, the search for food and drink can become a hobby, or a different kind of obsession—a quest for the perfect meal, or ingredients, or some new taste sensation. But for all of us, as creatures of appetites, we yearn to fill those holes in our stomachs, or in our hearts. We have come to this place, not quite like those who come to the food pantry or to the shelter, but we come in search of something. Sometimes our search is for something we can’t even describe or name, sometimes our search is quite clear—we seek healing or help, or wholeness. For some of us, though our appetites for food and drink, for the things of this world, become something a diversion, a way of avoiding the deeper questions, deeper longings, deeper appetites that lurk in our souls. We gorge ourselves at the table or department store or wherever, because our real, deep needs aren’t being met.

Bread can be utterly ordinary, or it can be spectacular. It is something we eat everyday. There is bread that has no texture, no substance, bread known familiarly, ironically, as wonder bread. There is also truly miraculous bread—freshly baked by someone who has tended the starter, kneaded it by hand, sweated while it baked in a fiery hot oven—crusty, chewy, delicious. It is a miracle. That bread brings us in the presence of the divine; it reminds us of Jesus’ words here and in the sacrament, “take, eat.” The one kind of bread is designed for mass appeal, the other for a dinner for friends or loved ones.

Have we come to Grace Church this morning in search of bread to fill our souls? Have we come to satisfy our curiosity, or just because of habit? Perhaps you’ve come, like all those who have expressed their excitement about my arrival here at Grace. You are full of hope, but perhaps a little apprehensive about what the future may hold. You may even want to see me work a miracle or two. Well, if you’re hoping for the latter, I’m probably going to disappoint you. I can promise you a lot of excitement, but I don’t know that I’ve ever worked a miracle.
Jesus offered the crowds bread, and then he offered them the bread of life. We come here to receive that bread, in the proclamation of the Word, and at the Eucharistic feast, but as we come together around the altar, we need to remember that it’s not about you, or me. It’s about Jesus Christ, the bread of life he offers everyone. Nourished by that bread, nourished by the Eucharist, let us go forth to offer that bread to all.

Diving in

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When people ask me about the transition I’ve made over the years from the life of academe to a bi-vocational ministry and now, finally to total immersion in parish life, one of the things I stress is the constantly changing nature of parish ministry. That has become clear to me as I’ve begun work at Grace Church. Yesterday, for example, I spent two hours on a tour of the facilities of Porchlight, beginning with the drop-in shelter housed here at Grace, and ending with a look at a vacant lot where they hope to put several different facilities in the near future.

Upon my return to the office, I spoke by phone with the person responsible for Hispanic Ministry at the national church; and then received an introduction to Grace’s columbarium. Later in the day, there was a meeting of the finance committee.  In between, there were brief conversations with parishioners and some time spent in the files left me by the Interim Rector. I was even able to unpack several boxes of books and other office items.

News from General Convention

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The Mainstream Media (MSM) headlines screamed this morning: “The Episcopal Church ends ban on gay bishops.” The headline, and the articles were sensationalistic, but misleading. Resolution D025, which passed the House of Deputies and amended, passed the House of Bishops yesterday, did no such thing. In fact, there was no ban or “moratorium” on the consecration of gay bishops, something even the Archbishop of Canterbury seems not to have understood. What the media, and the Archbishop were referring to was resolution B033 from 2006, which “urged restraint” on bishops and standing committees in their consents to the elections of gay or lesbian bishops.

Resolution D025 changes nothing. It simply states where the Episcopal Church is and what the canonical requirements for ordination are. The canons (the rules or laws) that govern the church say nothing about sexuality or gender when listing qualifications for ordination. Quite the contrary, the canons are explicitly non-discriminatory.

Resolution D025 points that out. It also acknowledges the deep divisions in the Episcopal Church and in the Anglican Communion over matters of sexuality.

For more on this, the Episcopal Cafe has been following the debates. In addition, there is a fine essay on the Anglican Centrist. But I encourage you especially to read Bishop Henderson’s letter on the meaning of the resolution. I should note that he offered an important amendment to the resolution in the House of Bishops, which they passed.

Jean Calvin Quincentennial

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Was it just coincidence that the General Convention of the Episcopal Church began on July 9, the 500th anniversary of the birth of Jean Calvin? Calvinism has been important in the history of the development of Anglicanism, even if most of us like to downplay its role in contemporary Anglicanism. In fact, the English Reformation got its start before Calvin arrived on the scene and there was never a single voice of Reformed Protestantism influencing early English Protestant theology. Martin Bucer, the Reformer of Strasbourg, spent some time in England, and Heinrich Bullinger, the Zurich reformer was enormously influential as well.

Calvinism became significant only relatively late, in the Elizabethan period, and from the start, there was significant “push-back” from the crown and from other important players. The reason for Calvinism’s unpopularity among the political and religious powers was his vision of the church, and especially the critique of bishops. That meant that much of the rest of his theology eventually was rejected as well. Still, there was significant Calvinist (and Reformed) influence on the Elizabethan Settlement.

I’ve never found Calvin particularly appealing, and it is not just his understanding of human sinfulness. Rather, I think my aversion has to do with style or approach. The Institutes are a marvelous system of theology, carefully argued, well-organized, even elegant. I like my theology a little messier, reflective of the conflicts and emotions that drive theological thinking and innovation. That being said, Calvin continues to influence contemporary theology, as he has done for 450 years.

General Convention

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The General Convention of the Episcopal Church will convene on July 9 in Anaheim, CA. No doubt there will be news reports concerning various actions taken, but most prognosticators expect less excitement generated this year than in 2003 or 2006. We will see. If you want to learn more about what is going on in Anaheim, check out the General convention website here. For commentary and background, visit the Episcopal Cafe, where deputies and other attendees will be blogging. The deputation from the Diocese of Upper South Carolina, including Bishop Henderson, will also post.

I suppose meetings of this sort are necessary in any denomination, but I’ve also thought that they tend to bring out the worst in people and in a denominational ethos. Much of the legislation is “feel-good” of one sort or another, and much of it seems designed to score political or theological points, with little significance for the local church or for individual Christians. Of course, there are decisions that have repercussions throughout the church and the world, but sometimes those effects aren’t felt for years, and often they are completely unexpected. Whatever happens at Anaheim, life and faith will go on in the local parish.

Communion of the Unbaptized

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General Convention begins next week and surely one of the hot topics will concern changing the canons to allow unbaptized people to receive communion. The House of Bishops Theology Committee has issued its report. It is available here as is a lively discussion.

Some people may find it odd that what seems to be an esoteric debate sparks such strong emotions. In fact, the question of whether unbaptized people should be admitted to communion gets at the heart of our theology, our liturgy, and our understanding of the sacraments. The argument for centers around “radical hospitality,” the idea that we need to be open and welcoming to everyone, just as Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners. On the other side are equally sound arguments based in the church’s traditional practice in keeping the Eucharist limited to baptized members.

As I see it, the church’s tradition, our liturgy and sacramental theology, all seem to militate against changing our practice. Hospitality can be shared, radical hospitality can be shared without opening the Eucharist to anyone. Communion knits us together as one body of Christ, and baptism is clearly what brings us entry into that body.

At the same time, I have no interest in becoming a gatekeeper, or an ID checker. I will never demand to see a baptismal certificate before putting bread into an outstretched hand at the altar rail. But if I learn that a child or an adult has received communion without being baptized, I will take the opportunity to begin a discussion about what it means to be a member of the Body of Christ, and what baptism and the eucharist mean.

I’ve detected in many of those most vocal in their opposition to the practice of open communion, not so much theological rationale, but concern for boundary maintenance. Boundaries are important, distinguishing and defining the nature of the church is crucial, but it is also true that all boundaries are porous (just ask our Border Patrol).

Proper 7 Year B

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I thought I would upload my sermon from last week. Since I preached without a text, I’m not sure what I said. Here’s what I meant to say:

This is the first summer in many years that we’ve had so many thunderstorms. It seems like every day there are more warnings and more violent storms in the area. I know many people tend to be a little afraid of storms—there is always the possibility of tornadoes, after all. But for me, the greatest fear is that we will lose our power at home. I hate being stuck in hot weather without air conditioning.

Truth be told, I’ve always loved thunderstorms. Growing up on the flat land of the Midwest, we could watch the storms building and approaching for a long time, or we could watch as the storms went to our north or south and passed us by. Watching thunderclouds build in the distance is an awe-inspiring thing. Summer thunderstorms usually meant that we could run for cover and take a break from work while waiting for the rain to stop. There was that time, though, when we were caught unawares by a storm, as we were putting a metal roof on a barn. Not a wise place to be during a lightning storm.

The gospel story we heard today is one of the most familiar of all, Jesus calming the storm. It is familiar, and for many of us who have a more scientific cast of mind, it is deeply problematic. At the same time, it tugs at our deepest emotional level. Most of us can relate tales of being caught in a storm so strong and dangerous we were concerned for our safety. It may have been in a boat, or on an airplane, or perhaps like mine, on a wet, metal roof, in the middle of a lightning storm. The fears of the disciples are fears that we all have shared. And Jesus’ calming words, “Peace, be still” are the words of a savior who delivers his companions, and us, from great danger.

But there’s more to the story than that, much more. As Shelly Matthews reminded us in her sermon last week, Mark is the least wordy of the gospels, so it’s important to pay close attention when he does provide detail, and pay close attention to how he tells the story. The little things matter a great deal. One of the things that strikes me in Mark’s version of this story is how he depicts Jesus—sleeping on a cushion in the midst of a mighty storm. Mark presents us with an image of Jesus at ease, comfortable, resting, while all around him is struggle, noise, and tumult.

Also of interest is the little point that Mark doesn’t bring up the disciples’ fear until after Jesus calms the storm. Jesus asks the disciples after the coming of dead calm, “Why are you still afraid?” Mark’s telling of the story lets us ask the question: Was it the storm that caused their fear, or was it that Jesus brought the storm to an end? Which power is more frightening, more awesome, the power of a storm or the power of the one who can calm the storm?

There is something of a storm raging in today’s lesson from the Hebrew Bible, as well. It is a storm raging in King Saul. In the lectionary this summer, many of our old testament readings will come from the story of King David. Today’s lesson comes immediately after David killed Goliath and it includes several interesting elements. First is the relationship between David and Jonathan, who is Saul’s son and heir to the throne. The second is the beginning of the rivalry between Saul and David.

Now, it’s important to note that much of the story of the rise of David seems to derive from the court of David, or soon thereafter. As such, it seems to be concerned with legitimating David’s kingship. The details are too complex to go into here, but this episode plays a role in that story. David is shown to be a successful commander and popular with the people. Saul seems to become jealous, is beset by an evil spirit (from God) and raved within his house. He tried to kill David, but was unsuccessful, and as leaders often do with their closest rivals, he sent him away. There is much worthy of comment, but what I find fascinating is the connection with Jesus’ stilling the storm.

As I said, the story of David and Saul is complex on many levels. While everyone knows the story of David and Goliath, most people aren’t familiar with the earlier relationship between Saul and David. David was brought to court as a musician. Saul had already lost God’s favor, he was tormented by that evil spirit sent by God. As a remedy, the musician David was sent for, his playing would soothe Saul and force the spirit to leave. We imagine Saul stark, raving mad, whether from jealousy or from some mental illness. The Hebrew suggests an alternative explanation. The word translated here as “raved” is the same word that is translated as “prophesy” elsewhere, the difference being only that in this case, it is because of an evil spirit, not the spirit of God. But remember, this was written by supporters of the Davidic monarchy.

During the summer, the lectionary gives us options for the Old Testament readings. We can read the story of David, as we are doing this summer, or we could read another set of Old Testament texts, that are more prophetic in nature. The alternative today also has to do with a storm. This time it comes from Job, the famous passage where God replies to Job out of the whirlwind, asking him “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the universe?”
There are storms and there are storms. There are devastating weather events that cost lives and destroy homes and livelihoods, as we saw this week in the upstate. There are storms like those that troubled Saul, and there are even storms like the whirlwind that spoke to Job. Storms are significant religiously because they bring us up against our finitude—the limits of our power, knowledge and humanity in the face of uncontrollable nature.

The gospel story reminds us of that. Whatever Mark intended with the story, it’s pretty clear that it is meant to demonstrate Jesus’ power to his disciples. It is one of the few of the miracles in Mark’s gospel that is done in front of the disciples alone. They are the beneficiaries of Jesus’ intervention, and they alone are witnesses to his power. And that’s the conundrum for us. What is their response to that show of force? From Jesus’ question to them, it would seem they were full of fear. From Jesus’ question to them, it would seem they still lacked faith. And from their question, which Mark leaves hanging, leaving us to answer, “Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?” it is clear that they still do not know who Jesus is.

The setting of the story is important, too. It comes at the end of the day on which Jesus taught the people using parables. Indeed, for Mark, it is the only significant occasion on which Jesus told parables. The enigmas he presented his listeners then, the kingdom of God he was preaching by using the parables, are presented here in the story of the calming of the storm, in another way.

The disciples asked him to explain the parables, now they ask who he is. Mark doesn’t provide answers to them now, those answers will come much later in the gospel, in the cross and resurrection. But already we see elements of the answer. It isn’t so much that Jesus has power. That’s not particularly important for Mark. Rather, what is important is that his readers understand who Jesus is and what it means that he is the Messiah. Storms rage around us, and in us, but do we see Jesus Christ in their midst?

In the midst of their storm, the disciples came to Jesus, in a way rebuking him. Why are you sleeping as we are about to perish? They didn’t ask him for help. They didn’t ask him to save them; they asked him only to be aware that all of them, including him, were going down with the boat. Just as they didn’t understand the parables, they don’t understand their true plight. Neither do we.

In the midst of storms, whether they be weather events, or the troubles of contemporary existence, it can be difficult to recognize God, to see Jesus Christ at work in the world and in our lives. Like Saul, we may be overcome by emotion when things don’t go our way. Like the disciples, we may be looking for a way out of a difficult situation. And very often, the answers we receive to our requests and questions don’t seem adequate to the situation. It may be that we want Jesus to calm the troubled waters by saying, “Peace, be still.” But instead, we may hear God speaking to us out of the whirlwind as he spoke to Job.

Whatever the case, let us be mindful that God is there, with us, in the midst of it all. Let us be mindful, too, that like the disciples, we may not see or recognize God. But let us be open to God’s presence, open to God’s speech, and open to the possibility that God will still those storms all around us.

Authority in Anglicanism

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We were talking about authority in our Anglicanism class this morning. There’s the three-legged stool, of course (scripture, tradition, and reason), but there’s more to it than that. In fact, one of the pressing issues in Anglicanism has to do with the nature and exercise of authority in the church. One of the key problems has to do with where authority in the church comes from. In the Episcopal Church, for example, authority rests in laity and clergy together. In General Convention, there are two houses, the house of deputies consisting of lay and clergy delegates, and the house of bishops. In individual parishes, rectors are ultimately selected by the vestry, but they serve under the bishop. Bishops are elected in diocesan conventions, needing majority votes from lay delegates and clergy. In other nations, the Anglican church is organized quite differently.

All of this may seem esoteric and relatively unimportant, but that’s not the case. There is a connection, a symmetry between the structure and how authority it is exercised. In the Episcopal Church, democracy, or giving the people a voice, is written into our constitution. We talk a lot about the ministry of the baptized, but to giving laity voice and vote in church governance says a great deal about the relationship between clergy and laity, and about the role of the laity in the church. General Convention will take place in July, and no doubt there will be some news coming out of it. It is our governing body; unlike other churches, especially the Roman Catholic, people have a say in the governance and authority of the church.