If we had to devise a bumper-sticker slogan to get people to take a good look at our church, what would you write?
Did you happen to catch the bumper-sticker slogan in today’s reading from Acts? Acts 4:33 says of those apostles of the first-century church, “ .”
How well do you think that one works?
That slogan may not work so well on a bumper sticker because it uses a word most everyone has heard, but few fully understand. That word is “grace.” The word needs a little unpacking. Once you catch the vision of grace, though, you’ll surely agree it’s something the whole world is looking for.
There are lots of meanings of the English word “grace.” To some, it may suggest a graceful ballet dancer, “social graces,” or the “grace period” before you must start paying back a loan. That’s all good.
Our English word “grace” comes from the Latin gratia, which means “something pleasing.” In classical Greek and Roman mythology, there are three sister-goddesses, known as “the three graces.” They’re identified with charm, beauty and creativity.
The dictionary gives another meaning: favor. Now that gets us closer to the theological meaning of grace. If parents have a favored son or daughter, they put that child on a pedestal. It’s the proverbial child-who-can-do-no-wrong.
So, too, with the grace of God. God’s favored Son, of course, is Jesus — but God doesn’t put him on a pedestal. God puts him on a cross — or, at least, allows the horrors of the cross to happen. The beneficiary of God’s favor that dreadful day is not God’s Son Jesus, but us!
It’s a curious thing, but this verse from the beginning of Acts is the second part of a set of bookends. To find the first one, you have to go all the way back to the beginning of Luke, who, as you know, most believe is the author of both books. In chapter 2, Luke’s wrapping up his story of Jesus’ birth, telling how Mary and Joseph returned with their young son from Bethlehem to Nazareth. Picture them as a couple of new parents coming home from the hospital with the kid in the latest-model car seat that’s flying a couple of mylar balloons. Luke says:
“When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him” (Luke 2:39-40).
If you were listening for the word “grace” in those two verses, you may think that you missed it. But you didn’t. The word’s there. It’s just hiding.
The word for “favor” — the Greek xaris — is the same as the word for grace. The grace of God — the favor of God — rests upon the infant Jesus. The grace of God likewise rests upon those gathered disciples after his death and resurrection, especially after they’ve received the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.
It’s all one and the same, and it’s all good. God’s grace — God’s favor — is upon those early disciples. It covers them like an umbrella in a thunderstorm.
Now, wouldn’t you like to have a little bit of that grace, that divine favor, as the early apostles did? Wouldn’t you like to know God smiles on you? Isn’t that what we’re all eager to know?
Jesus begins his own ministry on a note of grace. You can see it, again, in those early chapters of Luke. Jesus is no longer an infant, but a grown man, about to leave his hometown. He enters the synagogue of Nazareth, unrolls the scroll of Isaiah and starts reading those famous words about the Spirit of the Lord being upon him, to preach good news to all the downtrodden and oppressed. He closes the scroll and boldly announces: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Isaiah sums up the whole episode by saying: “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth” (Luke 4:18-22).
There’s that word “grace” again! Only this time it’s the “gracious words that came from his mouth.”
Now, here’s something interesting: Jesus reads from the prophet Isaiah, but there’s something there he doesn’t read. (You’d never know this unless you go to Isaiah and look it up.) He ends the passage abruptly, in the middle of a verse.
The last words of Scripture that Jesus reads there in the Nazareth synagogue — from Isaiah 61:1-2 — are “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (“favor,” again, is the same word as “grace”).
But here’s what he leaves out: The proclamation of Isaiah 61:2 is “the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God.”
Jesus doesn’t say a thing, here, about vengeance — even though those words are staring back up at him from the scroll in his hands. He skips over them because he doesn’t do vengeance. He’s all about grace!
The good news is that you already have this grace! You have it because of Jesus. And you haven’t had to do a thing to deserve it. By his cross and resurrection, Jesus has already done it all. You just have to accept the gift.
It’s true for all of us in the Christian community, from the oldest senior citizens to the infants with baptismal water still glistening on their foreheads. When the sign of the cross was traced across our own foreheads in baptismal water, we were marked as belonging to God. We were marked as favorite sons and daughters. With any newly baptized children, we hope and pray they’ll grow to understand enough about that favor, that grace, to accept it as their own.
Yet, how difficult that can be! It’s difficult because we’d usually rather not admit we need such a gift, thank you very much. We’d rather see ourselves as people who are basically good, who’ve earned God’s special favor by living exemplary lives.
In that respect, we’re like a certain character in Jesus’ famous parable of the prodigal son. You know how that story goes. A man has two sons. One stays home tilling the fields; the other cashes out his inheritance, flees to a far country and makes a mess of his life. He blows through every shekel in no time, and comes crawling back to dad, hoping for a little kindness for old times’ sake.
Instead, the father throws a party — an expression of favor — such as that village has never seen. The older brother, who has lived a far more exemplary life, is jealous of the gala reception. Who wouldn’t be? But — as dear old dad patiently explains — he’s overjoyed because the son he thought he’d lost has now been found. The prodigal son is a parable of grace in action. Oh, how many of us are like the prodigal son!
This sort of thing goes against every moral inclination hard-wired within us. Apart from the Christian gospel, common sense dictates that people ought to get what they deserve. “You do the crime; you do the time,” type attitude. The Franciscan theologian Richard Rohr calls this sort of thinking the “economy of merit.” Those who have merit can expect to get good things in life. Those who don’t can expect punishment. It’s only fair, right?
Yet, if we’re serious about following Jesus Christ, we have to make a fundamental shift in our outlook. We have to switch from the economy of merit to the economy of grace.
This doesn’t come naturally to us. Making that switch is hard. It’s especially hard for those of us who — skilled as we’ve become at beating ourselves up inside — tend to be our own harshest critics. I know I am. Those of us who fit that description don’t need some frowning magistrate to tell us we’re bad people. We’re already convinced that we are, and we remind ourselves of it a hundred times a day. If we’re so busy judging ourselves all the time, it can be impossible to extend grace to others.
Here’s how Richard Rohr describes the revolutionary power of grace:
“It is God’s magnificent jailbreak from our self-made prisons, the only way that God’s economy can triumph over our strongly internalized merit badge system. Grace is the secret undeserved key whereby God, the Divine Locksmith, for every life and for all of history, sets us free.”1
There’s an unforgettable scene from the 1986 film, The Mission, that illustrates this point. It’s a movie about the Spanish colonial empire in South America. Robert De Niro plays Mendoza, a brutal slave trader who captured, sold and murdered more native people than he could count.
Mendoza’s life changes when he murders his own brother in a fit of rage. The hard-bitten conquistador is overcome with remorse. He scarcely thought twice about killing a native in the past, but now he has come to realize every human life has value, and that he’s guilty of spilling far too much blood.
A Jesuit priest gives him a penance to atone for his sin. Mendoza must accompany an expedition of missionaries deep into the rain forest. There they plan to teach the natives about Jesus.
On the trek into the forest, Mendoza binds up his armor in a net. He ties a rope around the heavy burden and drags it along, to remind himself of the violent life he left behind. The sack of armor slows the expedition, but the priests tolerate it. They know how important it is for this man to do his penance.
Close to their destination, the missionaries climb to the top of a waterfall. At the top, they warmly embrace the native friends they’ve come to know on an earlier journey. But then the natives spy Mendoza, still scrambling up the rocks beside the waterfall, dragging his armor behind him.
They know this man, and they fear him. One of the natives grabs a knife and runs over to Mendoza, holding the blade against his neck, threatening to kill him in revenge. Mendoza looks up at his assailant. He prepares himself for death.
But then, something surprising happens. The native does slash his knife through the air, but what he cuts is not the conquistador’s throat. He cuts the rope holding the bag of armor. The entire company watches Mendoza’s burden fall away, tumbling end over end down the waterfall, smashing onto the rocks below.
Mendoza cries like a baby, fresh from the womb of God. A priest says, “Welcome home, brother.” It’s then that his real instruction in the way of Jesus begins.
It’s all a gift. You can’t be a follower of Jesus Christ if you don’t set aside that judgmental, rules-based thinking, and claim the joyful truth that you’re never going to get what you deserve at the hand of God.
And it’s a good thing, because, if you did, you’d never survive such wrath. None of us would. What we have, instead, is the bright promise of God in Jesus Christ, a promise of grace, hope and forgiveness.
Thanks be to God who gives us such victory and names us as favorite sons and daughters!
Let us pray.
In today’s Gospel, we read how Thomas doubted the resurrection until he himself could see the wounds in Christ’s hands and side. We pray to our Father in heaven that he bless us with faith so that we, without seeing Jesus’s wounds, are firm in our belief and loyalty to Him. We pray to the Lord.
On today, Divine Mercy Sunday, let us renew our commitment to compassion, love, mercy and forgiveness in all our dealings with our family, neighbors and particularly those who may have injured or offended us in the past. We pray to the Lord.
As we continue to rejoice in the Risen Lord, we pray that our family homes be places where we experience healing, peace and forgiveness. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for peace and reconciliation in Israel and Palestine, so that its people can share in the joy which living as God’s loving children can bring to all. We pray to the Lord.
We pray for the aid workers who were to tragically killed in Gaza during this week and for their colleagues who so selflessly risk their lives every day tending to the sick, the hungry, the wounded and the dispossessed. We pray to the Lord
We pray for The Most Rev. Dean E. Bekken that he may share in the gift of Divine Mercy and enjoy the vision and glory of the Risen Christ. We pray to the Lord.
We ask that the Holy Spirit lead some benefactors to our humble parish and see our vision and invest in our ministry and parish so that we may have the financial wherewithal to continue our ministry. We also pray for vocations to the priesthood. We pray to the Lord.
For those on our parish prayer list, that they may receive swift answers to their needs and that they may find consolation through Christ’s healing presence. We pray to the Lord.
We bow our heads and remember in silence our own personal intentions and the intentions of those who have asked for our prayers (pause). We pray to the Lord.
Mighty God of mercy, we thank you for the resurrection dawn, bringing the glory of our risen Lord, who makes every day new. Especially we thank you for the beauty of your creation. And the new creation in Christ and all the gifts of healing and forgiveness. We thank you for the sustaining love of family and friends and the fellowship of faith in your great church.
Merciful God of might, renew this weary world, heal the hurts of all your children, and bring your peace for all in Christ Jesus, the living Lord of life. We especially pray for those who mourn from the loss of friend or family member. We pray for those who govern the nations of the world. We lift up the people of countries where there is strife and hunger and warfare. We give thanks that all who work for peace and true justice. We pray that the joy and promise of Easter will grow stronger in our lives. All these prayers we offer in the name of the risen One. Amen.
God Love You.
The Most Rev. Robert Winzens
Pastor – St. Francis Chapel
San Diego, CA.
As a small parish, we come to you all as beggars! All non-profits compete for your support, and many serve the community’s great needs, and we do not ask you to stop giving to them. But maybe one week or month, we ask that you consider a small donation to our humble parish. Your generous support also allows us to continue these important projects that fuel the movement of progressive Christianity. God will look on your donation grant you his grace in abundance! Thank you and God bless you! +++
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