A donkey, a baby and the kiss of God. Christmas 2019

+Brennan Manning wrote: “Jesus comes not for the super spiritual but for the wobbly and the weak-kneed who know they don’t have it all together and who are not too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace.”
What is represented in this manger scene is the greatest gift of all time. Given for you and for me. Not because we earned it but because we are that adored by our God. Whether you feel worthy of this gift isn’t the point. The point is that the gift has been given….we just need to open it.
     Just like Cristofero, the donkey who carried Mary to Bethlehem.
Cristofero was a little donkey. He was much smaller than the rest of the donkeys and whenever he was hooked up to a cart it was too heavy to pull. Cristofero never got to help. Because he wasn’t strong enough, he wasn’t big enough.
Now there was one thing about Cristofero that wasn’t small. Or weak.
That was his bray—-HEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
That bray would make your toes curl.
One afternoon, standing all by himself in the barn, feeling lonely and sad, angry and worried, frightened and worthless, Cristofero, let loose a bray louder than anything ever heard—-it was so loud God heard it all the way in heaven!
Which was good because just at that moment God was wondering how Mary was going to make it to Bethlehem.
You see, Joseph and Mary were so poor they didn’t own a donkey, a horse or even a cart. The only way to get to Bethlehem was to walk.
And so that’s what they were doing. Walking the 98 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Most pregnant women have trouble walking 98 feet when they’re nine months pregnant let alone 98 miles…..
The walk wasn’t going real well….
God was worried. Now God worries about all pregnancies but God was particularly worried about this one because Mary and Joseph’s baby was God in the flesh—because God wanted to know what it was like to be a human being….how it felt to be born,  grow up, walk around, have friends. So God made a baby who could do all of those things, feel all of those things, be all of those things—Jesus of Nazareth. God was desperate to keep Mary and Joseph and Jesus safe… so just about the time Cristofero was crying out in his sadness, God had an idea—
God needed Mary to be safe and secure to deliver Jesus....but she needed help getting to Bethlehem (so she could follow God’s orders as well as the emperor’s)
And Cristofero needed to feel needed. And wanted. And useful.
And, because the world had become (and remains) very dark and scary, the world needed Light and Love and Joy.

The world needed help.
Mary, Joseph and Jesus needed help.
And that little donkey? Cristofero, needed help, too.
     So God whispered in Cristofero’s great big ears:
“I have a job for you. Go to the road which leads to Bethlehem and walk until you find a couple—-a good and solid man named Joseph and his wife, the young and very pregnant Mary. Let Mary climb aboard and carry her to Bethlehem. There won’t be any room at the inn, so make a space for her in the barn where she can give birth. Protect her from every danger by using your GREAT BIG BRAY.
Cristofero, I’m counting on you.”
And you know what?
That little donkey found his way to the road that leads to Bethlehem, found the couple who did what they we’re told even though they were scared and he did what God asked him to do (even though he was a little scared too) and carried them all the way to Bethlehem, guarding them every step of the way.
And once Jesus was born Cristofero added his GREAT BIG BRAY to the choir of angels singing, Glory to God in the Highest Heaven, on this Night, the one to save us all has been born…and it’s the greatest gift anyone has ever and will ever receive”
      To mark the role of that little donkey in the greatest night ever, every donkey born has a cross imbedded into the fur on their back—it’s the mark made by God’s kiss of thanks saying, “thank you little donkey for making sure Mary, Joseph and Jesus were safe. I know it was a big job, and I also knew you were just the right little donkey to do it.  Even though you were a little nervous and little scared.”
     My friends, “Jesus comes not for the super spiritual but for the wobbly and the weak-kneed who aren’t too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace.”
My Christmas wish for us all is that we be like Cristofero—-accepting this gift of amazing grace, Emmanuel, God come to us in the flesh.
Merry Christmas. And Amen.

A Magnificent Revolution Advent3A St Luke's Jamestown

      A couple of weeks ago I saw a meme on Facebook which read: “I don’t think we’ll understand Advent correctly until we see it as preparation for a revolution.” (Robert Berron).
Those words  hit me like a ton of bricks. Because yes, what we are preparing for, the birth of the messiah, is a revolution. This revolution is not one of guns and bombs, or of a collapsed stock market, or of impeachment proceedings in Washington. No, this revolution is a revolution of love. Of God’s love. A love so massive, so unrelenting, so universal that when accepted, when received, when welcomed and when embraced by humanity, this love has changed, is changing and will change this world.
       Welcome to the third Sunday of Advent. Welcome to the third week of our preparation for the greatest revolution of all time, a revolution we hear Mary sing about in today’s canticle, a revolution of saying yes to God and of saying yes to God coming to us in the flesh, Jesus.
    Why a revolution? Because God coming to be among us in the form of a baby, born to Mary and Joseph, God living as one of us in the form of Jesus of Nazareth, God living among us as someone who lifts the downtrodden, who challenges those in authority, who destroys the systems of evil and then dies on the cross, that God, this God, our God, isn’t interested in managing us like some puppet master, no this God, our God, is interested in being us. God, presented to us through the yes of Mary and Joseph in the person of Jesus, is the leader of a revolution, a revolution to turn this world upside down and inside out—returning creation to its original intent—-a manifestation of God’s love, in living, technicolor glory.
    Today we’re talking about the kind of revolution that begins with God choosing a young peasant girl to bear the greatest gift ever given to humanity, it continues with a stalwart fiancé who chooses to stand by Mary even though all the cultural, religious and legal norms of the day implored him to discard her like a piece of day old trash. Today we’re talking about a revolution born inside that barn , because there was no room at the inn. Today we are talking about a revolution that lives and moves and gains its meaning through every single one of us who proclaim Jesus as Lord, who join with Mary in her anthem of breaking down the unjust and immoral structures of the day, raising the lowly, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked and embracing the outcast. Today, in the middle of Advent 2019, we sing Mary’s song of revolution not as a sweet homage to lowly Mary, chosen by God, we sing it as a promise to her and to her God and to her Son that this revolution, the revolution of Jesus Christ, still lives in each and every one of us.
     If I had my druthers I would spend all of Advent focusing on Mary and Joseph. Because the story of Mary and Joseph is meant, in my opinion, to be our story. Because Mary saying yes to God, Mary saying no to tradition, no to the cultural rules of the day, no to the norm… and Joseph doing the same, this is the foundation of what it means to be Christian, to be followers of Jesus Christ here in Jamestown, here at St Luke’s. For to be part of this revolution we must always say no to darkness, no to evil, no to oppression, no to unchecked power. In this revolution we say yes to light, yes to love, and we offer this yes to everyone, everywhere, always, as long as we take breath.

     The revolution of Jesus began when Gabriel said—-“ummmm guess what Mary? You’ve been  been chosen to be the Theotokos—-the God bearer.” Now most of the art depicting this scene show a very holy Mary saying of course, why wouldn’t I, thanks for asking.” I don’t believe it. Mary had to have been terrified. What God was asking her to do had so many implications—-those she knew of and those she couldn’t even imagine. And yet, this 14 year old girl said yes. That is strength, that is courage—it is the stuff of a revolution.
 What Mary unleashed with her yes was a revolution and her song, the Magnificat, was her rallying cry.

 I implore us all to have it be ours as well:
I pray that our souls will at all times and in all places declare the Greatness of the Lord and that we will always rejoice in that.
I pray that we will do our part to cast down the cruel from their thrones, raising the meek and the honorable in all we do.
I pray that the hungry will be fed, the lonely will be loved and the excluded will be brought into the fold. ‘For when we do that, when we follow the spirit of Mary’s Song, when we follow the path she took of always trusting God even when it pierced her heart and worried her soul, when we do all of this, at all times and in all things, we will perpetuate the revolution that is Christianity. The revolution that is following the teachings of Jesus to love, no matter what.
When we do that, really do that, you know, as well as I do, that we will change this world.
And that, my friends is the stuff of revolution.


Amen.

Advent 2A Dec. 8, 2019 Stump or Shoot, God is Coming for Us! Alleluia.

+There are so many surprising images in today’s readings:

¬ Wolves and lambs lounging in a peaceful co-existence, leopards and lions playing, a baby crawling safely within the reach of the snake.

¬ Gentiles being welcomed into Judaism through the cleansing act of baptism—no 30 foot walls being erected to keep the Palestinians out of Israel back then-- the images of peaceful co-existence are almost unbelievable!

¬ And then we have wild and woolly John the Baptist flying INTO A RAGE at the Pharisees who’ve come to gawk at his somewhat bizarre presentation. There he is, all smelly and wrapped in camel hair, blasting his message to all within ear shot, a touch of crazed ramblings infused with a wisdom that cannot be denied.

¬ And one of my favorite images of all—that earnest little seedling shooting up from a stump: a branch from the tree of Jesse.

The family tree that was the House of David, looked mighty bleak when Isaiah was writing in the 8th c. BCE—it was a mere stump of its former glory---the House of David was under attack by the Assyrians, they were surrounded, defeat at every turn. 

Hard to be hopeful in such a situation...who can imagine anything growing while sitting on the stump of utter despair?

 I’ve sat there myself, perhaps you have, too. You may be there now -- at that place where hope is cut off, where loss and sadness have deadened your heart. A place where peace seems out of reach and happiness, the thing of fantasy.

  The good news is that God’s Advent word has come to sit on that stump, alongside us, right where we are. You see the promise of God doesn’t  come in a blaze of glory, it’s not delivered on a chariot of fire..no ,it comes to us exactly where we are and it comes to us just how we are...happy and hopeful, sad and despairing, raging and ranting. It doesn’t matter—God meets us right where we are.

Our message from Isaiah is filled with hopeful words creating a vision that’s surprising in its simplicity and honesty. Nothing hyperbolic and lofty here. God’s promise is matter-of-fact and brutally honest--the nation as they knew it would never rise again. The shoot would not become a mighty cedar... instead the shoot would become something altogether surprising, altogether different than anything anyone could ever expect. It won’t look mighty, it won’t be fierce… it will be a BABY born to peasants, IN A BARN among the cattle and the sheep and the donkeys. 

There is nothing overtly mighty in that scene at all... yet... in that barn , among those critters, God will come. And none of us will ever be the same again. 

   Yes, a shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse… fragile, yet tenacious and stubborn. It will grow like a plant out of dry ground. And it will be strong and miraculous enough to push back the stone from a rock-hard tomb.

The shoot will grow in the heart of those cut off by unbearable sorrow until one morning they can look up again. It will grow in the hearts of people told over and over that they are nothing, they are nobody.

In the depths of that sorrow, in the grip of that hate, the plant will grow. It will break through the places where darkness dwells, where hope loses its way, where loneliness spreads. The shoot will grow to sing shouts of Hosanna and Glory to God in the highest.

   My friends, this shoot emerging from the stump of Jesse—this fragile sign--- is the beginning of God’s incarnation—of God’s coming to us, as one of us!

Now, what about the seedling longing to burst forth in our own hearts? Deep in that place where faith longs to break through the hardness of our own disbelief, the frozen ground of our own fear, the rock hard stone of our own despair?  Folks, don’t wait for the tree to be full grown. Search for that sprout, encourage that shoot, welcome the God who comes to us in Advent; inviting us to move beyond all that was into all that will be.

We may still want to sit on the stump for a while and brood—that’s ok--God will sit with us. But God will also keep nudging us, saying: “Look! Look -- there on the stump. Do you see that green shoot growing?”

“O come, green shoot of Jesse, free

Your people from despair and apathy;

Forge justice for the poor and the meek,

Grant safety for the young ones and the weak.

Rejoice, rejoice! Take heart and do not fear,

God’s chosen one, Immanuel, draws near.”

My friends, a miracle is sprouting, the wonder of God is approaching, the Prince of Peace indeed is drawing near. Be alert, be prepared and be ready to shout with the angels and the shepherds, 

“Glory to God in the highest heaven and peace to God’s beloved people on earth! “

Amen!

https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1940

Proper 27C We are All in God's Grip

+In this morning’s Gospel we have a little change of pace as the Pharisees give way to the Sadducees for the latest episode of “trick the Son of God.”
If a man dies and his brother marries the widow and then he dies and another brother marries the widow, ….to whom does she belong in eternal life? [ now here’s a little detour into why marriage was so important—— a widow had no standing in Jesus’ time. An unattached woman was looked on with an air of judgement. A woman should not, in Jesus’ time, be unattached. A woman needed a man to make her legitimate.]
    It’s easy to skip over the specifics of this question by saying this Gospel is not about marriage but rather the resurrection—and indeed it is about the resurrection—-but it’s also about marriage, about belonging, about attachment, about connection, about whose we are, in this life and in the next.
    I have to admit, this reading struck a chord with me this time around….for I myself was widowed two years ago yesterday—-previously I read this gospel with nary a thought of how it sounded to those among us who’ve been married, widowed and for some, remarried. But this year, this time, think about it I did.
    One day I woke up and I was here and so was my spouse. Later that morning, in one fell swoop of a heart stopped by the ravages of chemotherapy  I was still here, but my wife? She was not. I was in this life and she was in life eternal.
   The resulting chasm felt wide and impassable. The separation, intensely painful. The loss, acute. And yet, as a firm believer in the resurrection, in a proclaimer of life everlasting, a lover of God and of God’s most holy mysteries I knew, I know, that for Pete life had simply changed, not ended and that for me? Life had also changed, not ended.
That’s the gift of faith in the resurrection—-we know that this life—this here and now is not the be all and end all. It is a moment in a much greater and never ending whole that is Life Everlasting.
    But when it happens, when the love of your life is no longer by your side, that faith, that belief, that hope is challenged. Because all I could feel, all I knew in those first days and those first months and still at times to this day is the reality that she is not here. She is there. And I?  I am here. It seems very black and white.
    It’s this kind of thinking that the Sadducees were engaged in. In modern day language this is called “binary” thinking—-meaning there is yes and no, there is black and white, there is here and there, there is life and death. This binary thinking is something we humans have constructed —it is not, according to Jesus, how God thinks. For in God there is no time, there is no here or there, in God there is simply now. “Now" is all that has been. “Now” is all that is. “Now” is all that ever will be.
    It’s a bit mind-blowing…which is why we humans constructed linear time and finite thought. It’s just easier!
    After being widowed I was rudderless. I went from being married to being parted by death. No longer married. Who was I as a widow? How was I to live as a single person again? I was lost.
    But then, as anyone who has lost someone very close to them can relate, I (slowly) began to find my footing, to move through life to live the “rest of my story,” to live the fullness of what is our story.
 For while my attachment through love and commitment was strong and life-giving and a dream come true, the attachment I had to my spouse, the grip of love we felt for each other was not the whole story.
The love we have for others, for our parents, our spouses, our children, our siblings, our families, our friends, our neighbors….the love we share with them, the grip of that love, isn’t the whole story….the whole story, the source of love from which all these other loves pours? It’s God.
    God is love. And out of that Love all of us…everything that ever has been and ever will be…..has been created. Any love that we feel, any love that we are blessed enough to receive, all that love comes from the source of all Love: God.
     To me, this is the point of today’s Gospel——we belong to God——we did before, we do now, we will always. In the fullness of life eternal it isn’t about to whom we are attached, it is about how we’re all attached, all connected through the source of all love, the source of all joy, the source of all light: God.
    In death we are reunited with those who have gone before and we rejoice at the heavenly banquet loosening our grip on our earthly attachments—-not because they weren’t/aren’t precious to us, but because once we enter into the fullness of resurrected life we, amidst the choirs of angels and the great cloud of witnesses, realize that all our attachments, all our loves gain their meaning through the one attachment that feeds us all: the love of  God given to us through Jesus Christ.
As the old hymn puts it:
“In Christ there is no east or west, In him no south or north, But one great family bound by love…"
To whom do we and our beloved to belong when our earthly sojourn is over? We belong to the Love that created us, the Love that Redeems us and the Love that always and forever Sustains us.  And for that we all can say, Amen.

If we aren’t all in this together, we aren’t in it at all. Proper 25C

+Joann and I had a seminary professor who,after a particularly challenging piece of scripture was read, often said: “This reading convicts me.” It was a curious turn of phrase and I always wondered what he really meant by it. But this morning? This morning I know exactly what he meant... for this morning the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector  convicts me. It convicts me because  just like the Pharisee, I have prayed the prayer of “Thank God it’s them and not me.” It convicts me because of how many times I’ve  encountered someone and instead of responding in love, I’ve responded in fear.. Someone who’s mentally ill or intoxicated or in some sort of distress.  How many times have I avoided these people and rationalized my actions by thinking, “well I give money to charities that care for people like them, I’m a good person——haven’t  I done enough?” Truth be told, while I feel ashamed about this behavior, I can easily cover it with false righteousness.
It convicts me because I’m reminded that my actions are not that of a humble, God loving, God trusting person, but rather the actions of an uptight, rigid, going to always play by the rules of society—ignoring the cost-- person.
This reading convicts me because it makes me way too much like the Pharisee and not nearly enough like the tax collector.
Did you notice how the Pharisee isn’t so much praying to God as he is lecturing? But in his efforts to point out how different---how much better—he is than the tax collector he forgets (or more likely he never knew) that it isn’t an either or proposition. He forgets that we are indeed our brother’s and sister’s keeper. If one of us has fallen, we’ve all fallen. If one of us is hungry, we’re all hungry, if one of us is abused, we’re all abused. If one of us is lost than none of us is truly found. He forgets that the way of Jesus is not the way of us against them it’s the way of and for us all.
If we aren’t all in this together, we aren’t in it at all.
        At first glance, the Pharisee seems to be the insider in this story, the tax collector the outcast. But alas, in the world of Jesus, it’s the Pharisee who is on the outside, it’s the Pharisee who’s lost, it’s the Pharisee who needs redemption.
Now that’s not to say that the tax collector is Mr. Good Neighbor. Remember, he’s an agent for the occupying force of the day, the Roman Empire. He’s no prize.
Yet he, at the end of parable, goes away justified: forgiven, healed and renewed. The pharisee, on the other hand…well he has some lessons to. learn…
He needs to learn about community.
He needs to learn that the temple he worked so diligently to protect by following every single rule of who was allowed in and who should be kept out amounted to nothing without love of neighbor.
Without its community.
Any community of faith more concerned with who is in and who is out misses the entire point.
All that we are and all that we have is through God’s abundant and indescribable mercy and grace.
The tax collector “got it.” The Pharisee did not.
We’re all in this together. If the tax collector is standing outside the temple gates while we’re safely ensconced inside, then our work isn’t finished.
Until every single person who wants to be in the loving embrace of God is safely in that embrace, than none of us are.
We’re all in this together.
If our sister or brother is ill, outcast, lost or lonely than we are.
We’re all in this together.
And when I say all, I mean all:
Everyone.Those who we like and those who we don’t, Those who worship like us and those who don’t. Those who love like we do, and those who don’t. Those who vote like us and those who don’t. Those with whom we are comfortable and those with whom we are not.
Loving our neighbor as we love ourselves means if our neighbor isn’t ok, then we aren’t ok.
 It’s all about community...and to be a true beloved community of God we must, as we prayed in this morning’s collect, exercise the gifts of faith, hope, and charity.
Faith in a God who loves everyone everywhere, always and forever.
Hope in a world that will look more and more like God’s dream for it rather than the nightmare it so often appears to be.
And charity for those who are not as fortunate as we are.
For when we act for all instead of for only us, we are exalted,  justified, and saved.
 Not for who we are or who we aren’t, but for what we do and for whom we do it.
May we all be convicted enough by this morning’s reading to leave here prepared to share all that we have with all whom we encounter, each and every day.
For if we aren’t all in this together, we aren’t in it at all.
Amen.

Recognizing the God who is Written on our Hearts,—Proper 24 Yr C

+I’m a big fan of the author JD Salinger—-in his novel Franny and Zooey, college student Franny has decided to follow St Paul’s instruction to “pray without ceasing.” Unfortunately, Franny takes this practice on without guidance or support and her efforts soon lead to a mental breakdown and as the book begins she’s left college, and gone home to recover. After significant back and forth conversation, Zooey, Franny’s brother exclaims, “we don’t need gimmicks to attract God, we’re all carrying God deep with in us where we’re just too stubborn or too distracted, to look.” 

God is deep within us. Deep. Within. Us.  

And by practicing our faith—- by literally ingesting it through the sacred act of Holy Eucharist—-we join forces with God, living this faith out, fulfilling the dream God has always held for us. 

We are to ingest faith—as so beautifully played out in the Holy Eucharist--to have it become completely in us and of us. 

It really is a give and take proposition, God’s in us and we’re in God. And together we join in the most holy of all dances. 

But, because we are who we are, we spend a whole lot of time looking for God, out here when, as Zooey tells Franny, God is already in here. Totally, completely, always.

      This has been God’s promise to us for all time. In today’s reading from Jeremiah---Gos says, “I will be their God and they will be my people. I will write the law on their hearts.” Can’t get much clearer than that. God wants us so much that God has been written on our hearts---suggesting that, if we really listen to our heart’s desire, if we pay attention to what’s deep within us, we’ll find God. Because God is in us and we are in God.

Just like Zooey says.

Franny’s efforts to get closer to God aren’t wrong---praying without ceasing is bound to increase our awareness of the God within us---but it doesn’t bring God any closer, because God is already close.

 It’s funny, we spend a lot of time and effort trying to get closer to God, assuming that God is some elusive force outside of us when God is already within us,  just waiting for us to notice.

       In the parable of the persistent widow, a widow ---remember in Jesus’ time there was no lower socio economic status than that of a widow-----is seeking justice against an unnamed adversary. Justice, in this case, can only be granted by the local judge--who was, by all accounts, an unpleasant man who had no fear or love of God and no respect or love of people. A scoundrel of a sort, but the local magistrate nonetheless. The widow had no choice but to pursue justice through him. And so she does.....never quitting, never wavering, never shrinking away. 

The point Jesus makes is this: if such a jerk like the judge would listen to the persistent pleadings of the widow-- one of the most dismissed and ignored members of society in Jesus’ day—then imagine how, if we are as persistent in our own pleadings as she, a just and loving God will respond to us.

It’s easy to consider us the widow and God the judge, isn’t it?

 But, here’s the thing...are we always the widow in this story? Is God always the judge?

 I don’t think so.

Sometimes we’re the widow: fervently, and persistently seeking God. But then there are other times—probably more than I care to admit—-when we’re the unjust judge, and God is the widow. Times when we ignore the tenacious pleadings of a loving God who just wants to be noticed. A God who wants to be found. A God who wants to be heard.

Jesus sums it up at the end of Gospel when he asks---“when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”---will he find us engaged in a dance with God?

Will he find us seeking God as eagerly as God seeks us?

This is what Franny was trying to do with her attempts at unceasing prayer. She thinks if she continually prays, God will appear from some far away place.

But what Franny forgot, what we all forget , is that God doesn’t need to be coaxed out of hiding—for God is hiding in plain sight, waiting for us. Longing for us to seek out the divine as earnestly and as urgently as the widow seeks out the judge because then—when we have sought God out so fervently, so tenaciously so deliberately and so persistently---we will discover the secret Zooey knows: that God is deep within us, residing on our very hearts where we have been  a little too stubborn, a little too timid, and a  little too dense to look.

My friends, in this day and age, when so many people are feeling lost, when so much of the world seems to have gone mad, may we all look deep within us and find the God who is waiting for us, longing for us, hiding in plain sight. 

Amen.

23C His is a song of the saved, not simply a refrain of the healed.

+Nine were healed. One was saved. To me, that’s the down ‘n dirty take away from today’s Gospel about the healing of the ten people with leprosy.
An important thing to consider in the gospels is context and in today’s reading, Luke is clear about the context of just where this story takes place. Jesus and his friends were in a cultural no man’s land---they weren’t in Galilee where they “belonged,” and they weren’t in Samaria where they most certainly DID Not.  They were in a border region. The Greek word translated here actually means “the middle region” They were traveling in the middle area between Samaria and Galilee. They were neither here nor there. They were betwixt and between.
They were, in effect, no where that mattered….
And here they are approached. Accosted, pursued, sought out by a group of ten people, ten people who found one another after being cast out from their families, their homes, their villages.  Pushed out, denied, forgotten, shunned. They were united through their exclusion.
They were no longer anyone. And they were wandering in an area best described as no where.
Jesus is where we usually find Him —on the border between clean and unclean, safe and unsafe, ok and not ok.
Luke gives us these details for a reason. He’s making sure we know that this story of healing didn’t take place in the temple. It took place out there, beyond the border of the safe, beyond the border of the comfortable. That’s important….being out there, is what Luke is trying to get across.
     Now, let’s look at the actual healing part of this Gospel. It’s an interesting course of events—the ten had heard about this itinerant preacher and healer and what in the world did they have to lose by trying to get his help? NOTHING. So they holler at him as he approaches the nearby village. This isn’t a quiet meet and greet on the road into town. This is a bit of a dust up.
     I have an image of Jesus and his friends approaching the village and upon hearing the shouts of the ten, Jesus looking over his shoulder and saying, in what I hear as a somewhat dismissive tone: All right, GO, get out of here, show yourselves to the priests. As if to imply, “fine, I’ll take care of you, now get out of my way, I’ve got other things to do.”
 Lots of commentators keep Jesus really squeaky clean during these stories. That just doesn’t jibe with who I think Jesus of Nazareth was—he hung out in notoriously bad places with people of questionable character---he was a rabble rouser, an instigator and a pain in the patoot to a whole host of people. He was sweaty and smelly and dirty. He could be rude and outlandish. He could be cranky and annoying. After all, he was HUMAN.  He had good days and bad. So what makes us think that he kindly and gently said, in an angelic voice, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” Perhaps he was brusque. Perhaps he was annoyed and ticked off and said   “Go show yourselves to the priests” [say with annoyance] and then went on his way.
I imagine the scene playing out like that rather than a holier than thou preacher gently and lovingly giving them direction.
BUT —-and here’s the kicker—even when annoyed and rushed and hot and bothered, Jesus can’t help but feel compassion. He can’t help but HEAL them, even if he doesn’t take the time to stop and speak with them. He can’t help, amidst all the human-ness of his being, to also be Divine. That’s the beauty of our Savior. For he at all times and in all places, is BOTH.
    And so, he gives his directive and the ten head toward the synagogue to see the priests. (No doubt hoping that this Jesus knew what he was talking about.) And as they turn to head to the synagogue they’re miraculously, thoroughly and utterly healed... It’s a miracle, they have been healed.
Noticing this barely slows nine of them down. Who can blame them? They’re anxious to do exactly what they’ve been told---after all if that crazy preacher could heal them with just a word, he could also un-heal them if they don’t follow his instructions.  They’re not the bad guys in this story—they did as they were told.
But then there’s the one….a Samaritan nonetheless… a foreigner to beat all foreigners-- a hated outsider who stops, and turns goes to Jesus, falling at his feet and praising God for this gift of health.
This isn’t just a simple thank you. It isn’t just rejoicing at being relieved of a particular ailment. No this one man, upon receiving the gift of healing, turned his whole life, his whole mind, his whole heart and his whole soul over to God. His behavior is a shout of “Hosanna in the Highest, you are my God and I am your child.”
His is a song of the saved, not simply a refrain of the healed.
Have we been healed, or have we been saved?
To be healed is a wondrous thing, worthy of our gratitude.
But to be saved is to go out into the world, seeking and serving Christ in all whom we encounter. No exceptions, no yes buts, no I can’t. It’s the challenge presented to us by Jesus in today’s parable---be grateful for our healing, AND be energized, renewed and inspired by our salvation.
Go out into the world, make a difference. Stand up and stand out as one who is Healed and Saved. For that’s what we are called to do and to be. Thanks be to God.

Proper 21c The Rich Man Has No Voice

+How do you like that Gospel—-Heaven, Hell, awesome comfort, eternal torment. Real uplifting. When I heard this gospel 50 years ago—when I was 8—-it figged me. The God I had learned about in Sunday did not banish us to hellfire and damnation. I knew that.. so conjured my own view of Hell. My grandmother was dumbfounded when I told her that Hell—Hades--was seeing everything happening in the world—-like the people in heaven did—-but being unable to do anything about it.
Just like the rich man in this morning's Gospel.
All the rich man wanted to do was warn his brothers not to place material wealth and status above God and love of neighbor. He wanted them to listen, to hear, to open their ears, their eyes and their hearts to love. Abraham reminds the Rich Man—-they have to learn this themselves. We all have to learn this lesson ourselves and then, as we learn it here on earth, we must live it in all we do so that we can spread it.This is the key of establishing God’s kingdom here on earth—by spreading love —for until all feel the love, none of us will feel it.
Abraham is telling the Rich Man this.But, even while in the torment of knowing the errors of his ways, he still cannot hear what it’s being said.
Can we? Will we?

Luke talks a lot about wealth. Not because Luke thought wealth was bad, but because Luke thought hoarded wealth was bad.

A couple of weeks ago it was the Rich fool and his barns, then the shepherd who leaves 99 assets behind to seek out one wandering sheep and the woman who, upon losing one of ten coins, throws a party spending the other nine when the tenth is found.

And then last week, the parable of the shrewd manager who cuts the debts of debtors so they will end up being indebted to him.

Now it’s easy to say that the Jesus portrayed in Luke’s Gospel doesn’t care much for the wealthy, preferring instead to spend his time with the poor and destitute—but what we’ve read these past weeks are parables and there’s always more to a parable than meets the eye…

At first glance in today’s gospel we have The Rich Man—-an uber consumer and hoarder of wealth—- hindered by his lack of awareness while on earth,  and now, in eternal life, tormented that his brothers cannot hear his shouts of warning from the grave.

The Rich Man has no voice.
He is not heard.

Is there anything worse than not being heard?

Of having something to say, and to have no one--- hear you?
No one to listen, no one to consider your point of view?

Several years ago I received a phone call from a woman requesting food from the Good Shepherd food pantry. Because the Food Bank has very clear rules for food distribution (to make sure all geographic regions of WNY have equal access to food)  I told her that her zip code didn’t fall within our catchment area.  The defeat in her voice was palpable. She didn't know what else to do, where else to turn. I assured her there was a solution and took a few minutes to match her zip code with a food pantry. She was very grateful and said something striking...so striking it has stayed with me these years.

“thanks for taking my call, pastor.” “Thanks for listening.”

Think about it---I wasn’t able to give her food from the pantry, I didn't even guarantee that she would get food. I simply took 3 minutes out of my day to point her in the right direction. Yet she was so grateful. Grateful that I took her call, that I listened to her, because when you’re in a position of needing to access food pantries, you’re rarely heard.

Poor people, to a good portion of our world, simply don't matter.

And that’s the lesson I glean from our stories about wealth this past month. The poor, the needy, the lonely, the lost, the elderly, the injured....they aren't heard, they aren't noticed, they don't matter....unless someone with more standing, someone with more wealth, someone with MORE reaches out to them, searches for them, listens to them and makes sure they are reached, touched, found and heard.
And this reaching, this listening, this noticing? It's up to US. Not congress, not the wealthy, not the famous and filthy rich. Nope. US.
We have a choice: we can be the hoarding farmer longing to build more barns or we can be the searcher of the lost coin. We can be the rich man paying no heed to Lazarus or we can be the shepherd seeking the one out of 99.

We can open our eyes, our ears and our hearts or we can close ourselves off, build a wall and stay firmly on the side of the haves while the Lazaruses of the world remain the have nots, the heard nots, the matter nots.

Our challenge isn’t to beat ourselves up for having stuff, it’s to bridge the gap between those who have and those who don’t. It’s our Christian duty, it’s the longing of Christ that we hear the cries of those without voice.
As I consider Jesus’ messages to us these past few weeks one thing seems crystal clear:
Money is not a bad thing, letting money blind us to the needs of others is.
Money isn’t a bad thing. Letting money separate us from our neighbor and our God, is.

My friends, whatever we trust more than God separates us from God.
It creates a chasm as wide as that between the Rich Man and Lazarus.
A gap seemingly too wide to ever bridge.
But when we lead with God, when we trust in God and when we love our neighbor by seeing her, hearing her and respecting her, that gap will be closed, that  chasm will be bridged and the love of God, spread.
And that, my friends, is the whole point.
Amen.

Until all are at the table none of us can eat. Proper 17c St Mark's Erie

In the 1960’s and early 1970’s back in my hometown of suburban Chicago, teenagers attended a group called Fortnightly. Oh how I remember watching my sisters get ready. They put on party dresses, donned gloves—not the ones used for warmth but the one’s used as a fashion accessory—-and headed to the community center to learn how to behave in a social setting. the girls learned how to be the perfect dinner companion, the boys learned how to be the perfect escort. I watched my sisters head to fortnightly with a combination of envy and confusion. Fortnightly was a rite of passage, it meant you were a big girl and I certainly wanted to be a big girl, but I was also filled with questions—-how is learning to be “better” than others in a social setting a good thing? How did Fortnightly pair with Sunday school? The lessons were conflicting….on the one hand, we have to make the table bigger so everyone can have a seat of honor and on the other, keeping your lipstick tidy while eating a four course meal will make you a better person.... it all messed with my six year old brain.
No doubt when my parents arrived at the Heavenly banquet they found out there was no dress code…..

Today’s readings seem pretty clear to me:
It isn’t about our social status, it’s about our compassion. Our humility. Our kindness.
It isn’t about our exaltation, it’s about God’s.

It’s easy to hear today’s gospel reading and think—-oh how nice, Jesus is telling the snobby Fortnightly people of 1st century Palestine to open their banquet to all, not just the kids who can afford the dresses, the suits, the gloves and the party shoes, but to everyone, including and especially, the poor, the crippled, the lost, the lonely, the immigrant, the refugee, the despised,  and the hungry.
It’s easy to say, “of course, we do— we love Jesus, we’re nice, we’re compassionate.

And we are. We mean well. We know we shouldn’t exclude, but include. We know we shouldn’t hoard, but share.
We know that by welcoming the stranger many have entertained angels without knowing it. But……
Belief, creeds, and pronouncements ——are not the same thing as action. And what Jesus is challenging us with, what the author of the Letter to the Hebrews is reminding us, what Sirach is telling us is this:
The kingdom of God doesn’t mess around with status.
The kingdom of God doesn’t tolerate shame.
The kingdom of God doesn’t play with this “haves and have nots” business.
The kingdom of God is about dignity
It is about equity
It is about justice
It is about love.

And the things which make the Kingdom of God hum? The things that please God?
These are the things we’re to be doing.
It is how we’re to live. It is what we’re to practice.
In all things and at all times.

My friends, we are the Body of Christ existing within God’s kingdom here on earth. To make the kingdom a reality for all is our job. Our sacred duty, our holy task.

And that job, these tasks, our duty isn’t fulfilled by jockeying for position at the head of the line or the top of the pecking order or the fulfillment of a Fortnightly course.

No, that job, these tasks, this duty is fulfilled when we treat all those whom we encounter just as we ourselves are treated by God. With love. With dignity. With respect.

I am convinced, thoroughly and utterly convinced, that we can change our world, this world, this country, this region, this city of Erie—-we can transform it from the nightmare that it often is into the dream God holds for it— one act of respect and justice and humility and kindness at a time. I am sure that by engaging in consistent acts of kindness we will unleash a revolution of love, a revolution needed to get this world back on track, to make the Kingdom of God a full out reality in our midst.
We don’t do this by being better than everyone else, by beating them to the head of the line. We do it by helping them reach the head of the line.
 Because, until all are at the table none of us can eat.
Whether it’s holding the door open for someone, whether it’s paying for the person behind you in line at the drive-thru. Whether it’s going to the school where you’ve donated backpacks or school supplies and saying, “hey, how can I help?” Or whether it is taking the check you write each month to the food pantry or the domestic violence shelter or the refugee resettlement program and saying to them, “show me the people who need this help” and then engage them in conversation —look them in the eye, shake their hand, offer them a smile.
However we do it, it’s time for us to walk this walk and to show all those who we encounter that we aren’t whole until they are.

The kingdom of God is not built on good intentions alone, the kingdom of God needs our action as well.
So go out into the world and bring everyone into the fold, for in the Kingdom of God there is no admission fee, there is no earning your place. In the kingdom of God there is only the welcome of all to all.
Amen.

Straighten Up and Fly Right. Proper16c Aug 25, 2019

Proper 16c Straighten Up and Fly Right

+I don’t know too much about horses. But Pete did. She showed horses throughout her childhood and all tv horse shows (along with the Kentucky Derby, The Preakness and The Belmont) were “must see” tv in the Dempesy-Sims’ household. While watching the Olympic horse jumping competition a few years ago I learned that horses can’t see directly in front of them. So when they approach the jump, they have to trust their rider to keep them from slamming into the wall. Of course, considering a horse’s anatomy it makes sense that they can’t see straight ahead—after all their eyes are on the side of their head. Now, the horse doesn’t know any differently and if you watch horses you’ll see how they adapt to primarily having peripheral vision.

The woman in today’s gospel can’t see directly in front of herself either. The osteoporosis from which she suffers has caused her to be so bent that her view of the world is confined to the ground directly below her. To see the world more broadly requires adaptation: a painful twist of the neck or an arduous lifting of her eyes to see more than the feet of whomever stands directly in front of her.

How many of us only see what is right in front of us? How many of us are so burdened by whatever ails us that all we see is the ground directly below? How many of us are so weighed down by darkness that we fail to see the light surrounding us on every side? How many of us have adapted to all the stress in our lives by just dealing with whatever is right in front of us, missing out on the beauty and opportunity around us?

We don’t need to have eyes on the side of our head, or a spinal deformity to keep our gaze downward, our worldview, narrow. The stress and worries in our hearts can keep our heads down.

The “bent woman” isn’t looking for Jesus, no doubt she was used to being overlooked by the folks at the synagogue, used to being considered less than the able bodied people around her. But Jesus? He has a laser focus when it comes to the outcast. When he entered the synagogue he saw her right away, and called her over. Jesus notices the un-noticed, He reaches out to the Other, He touches the untouchables. We don’t know what synagogue this is—what we do know is that he has turned his face toward Jerusalem, so he is traveling along the road that runs from Galilee down through Samaria and into Judea. Along the way Jesus does a lot of teaching, a lot of preaching and quite a bit of healing. So it would be easy, if you were reading the Gospel of Luke straight through, to read this excerpt as just another healing, just another miracle performed by Jesus. But as I spent time with the Gospel this week something more became apparent.

I don’t read this just as another miraculous healing story …I see it as a story that speaks to each and every one of us as a way forward, a way out from under the burdens that weigh us down…the burdens that, as Jesus tells the woman, Satan has laid upon us.

OK, a little bit about Satan...Satan is short hand for the forces of darkness, the forces of evil that exist in this world. It’s clear that the forces of light and goodness, which is God, are in a seemingly endless battle with evil and darkness---Satan. God is all that is good and bright and hopeful and true. Satan is all that is evil and dark and hopeless and false. The forces of darkness are at work in this world, the forces of darkness are at work in our world, in our lives, right now.

Lest you think I’m overstating this, look at how Jesus characterizes the woman in today’s gospel: “whom Satan bound for eighteen long years…” Bound by Satan. This world can get so bound by Satan, our own lives can get so bound by Satan….

Paralyzed by fear? That’ s not God. That’s Satan.

Unable to forgive?That’ s not God.That’s Satan.

Full of doubt? Satan. Full of hopelessness? Satan. Full of despair? Satan. The stuff that weighs us down is Not of God. The hatred that leads to terrorist attacks, the despair that fuels our politics, the inability to forgive that keeps our families in turmoil comes from darkness, from evil, from Not God.

  But here’s the Good News… no matter how fiercely the darkness tries to envelope us, no matter how hard Satan tries, we have the perfect antidote:  God, the source of all good and of all light. God, who takes our bentness, who takes our downward gaze, who takes all that weighs us down and straightens our backs, raises our eyes, lightens our burden and sets us free.

So this morning, no matter what binds us individually, no matter what binds us collectively----no matter what version of darkness and despair that happens to infect us, it’s temporary, not permanent; it’s curable, not terminal, it’s of this world, not of God’s. So shed what weighs you down, straighten up and look around, and allow yourself to be enveloped in the light, love and wonder that is God. Release yourself, straighten up and fly right. +

Proper 15c Talkin Bout a Revolution

Such an uplifting message from Jesus in today’s Gospel right? 

I promise to break that reading open in a bit, but to get there we need to begin with the poetry of the prophet Isaiah.

This story of the vineyard has been interpreted and reinterpreted many times over the generations.  It began as a poem to lovemaking gone array and along the way has been used and reused to make a variety of points, probably most famously as the basis of Jesus’ Parable of the wicked tenants and most recently as the lyrics to a Sinead O’Connor song. It has meant a lot of things to a lot of people…..but today what really jumps out at me is the final verse: 

God looked for justice, but found bloodshed; for righteousness but found only a cry of suffering . 

God looks for justice but instead finds bloodshed, God looks for righteousness yet only finds suffering. 

Phew.

This could have been written last week, right?

Perhaps you all are tired of hearing it, of living it. I know I am. More people shot, more children separated from their parents, more hate-filled speech screaming at us from the airwaves, the internet, the newspaper….and sadly sometimes our own minds. How often…how often does God look upon this part of Creation, expecting to see the Divine dream, only to find a human-made nightmare? To find righteousness, only to hear cries of suffering?

How often do we? 

It's so unrelenting, the horrors we inflict upon one another, that my heart rises to my throat each time a news alert flashes on my phone with the words shooter or gunman, or wounded and dead. I’m enraged that black teens are targeted for being alive, that migrants, fleeing for their very lives, are rounded up

like the Jews of Germany and Poland in 1940 , where people shopping, dancing, listening, praying or learning are assassinated by young white American men who’ve been given free rein to hate.  My breath catches, my heart races, my head throbs, my soul hurts and I lament, “how long Lord, how long?” 

Oh how I wish I could just turn it over to God. How I wish I could get by with thoughts and prayers. How I wish a well-written rant on social media would relieve that pain. How I wish all my thoughts, all my prayers and all my turning this over to God would be all it takes. 

But those are in and of themselves, incomplete actions.

God made humanity an ongoing, always unfolding, ever-changing creation. A creation that is not finished. 

A creation that requires participation. Action. Intention. 

A creation imagined and invoked by a God who created us to be partners in the ongoing work of this thing called life. 

And this task given to us, this holy and sacred and above all else necessary, vital and urgent task —-is not easy. 

It’s not easy at all. 

It requires bravery, endurance, commitment, willingness, courage, faithfulness and strength. 

It even requires us to stand tall against those we love. To turn away from those we love but whose views and rhetoric we can no longer tolerate. It requires us to say—out loud—-that which may hurt and anger others. It requires us to step up and speak out when our own lives, our own livelihoods, and maybe even our own safety is at risk. It requires much of what was just read to us from Luke’s Gospel. It requires a revolution.

My friends, to follow the way of light and love, to follow the teaching of the prophets, from Isaiah to Jesus, to Martin Luther King, to Maya, to Toni, to those whose voices are crying out now, but to whom we are not listening, to follow that way, the way of God,the way deep into the dream of our Creator, we must take risks. There’s no time to spare, for our world in general and our country most specifically is spinning out of control—the base needs and wants of the forces of darkness at play are winning and it is up to us…each and every single one of us sitting here today to light a fire upon the earth, to say that which is uncomfortable to stand for that which is frightening, to turn away from the darkness, the evil and the hate and turn toward the light and the good and the love. And when we turn away from the dark and walk into the light we must—-and I mean this with every fiber of my being—we must spread this light to every corner of our lives, no longer worrying if it will tick off our boss, or our parent, or our neighbor, or our spouse or our children or our priest, or our Bishop or our very selves—-to spread this light, this goodness this love—-means risking everything—-our comfort, our 401K’s, our relationships , it means picking up the cup Jesus chose, and taking a long deep drink of revolution. The peace of this world will only be achieved when the horror of this world, the horror of this country, the horror of our lives is overcome by, defeated by, disintegrated by, obliterated by us. 

Our thoughts, sure, our prayers, yes, but above all else, by our deeds. 

It’s time to do the work we’ve been given to do. It’s time to turn away from those who live in darkness, who spew hatred, who live only for themselves. It’s time to see more clearly, love more dearly, follow more nearly, 

I’m talking about a revolution, the revolution of Jesus, the revolution of Ghandi, the revolution of Martin, the revolution of Toni., the revolution of light. Of love, of God. I’m talkin bout a revolution. God expects it, our world needs it and You and I can — we must— lead it.

I’m talkin bout a revolution.

Amen. 

Belief is what we hold onto so that when we lose our way, our belief will hold onto us. Proper 14c St Paul's Springville, NY

“Yes Lord, I believe.”A friend of mine always says this when he receives communion. It’s a compelling response to receiving the sacrament.

“Yes Lord, I believe.” It’s a powerful statement and one that stays with me for days after I hear him say it. 

Belief is a big part of our readings this morning—-

First from Genesis:

Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them." Then he said to him, "So shall your descendants be." And he believed the Lord; and the Lord reckoned it to him as righteousness.

Then from Hebrews:

By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. 

These quotes reference Abraham And Sarah’s obedience to God, their commitment to following God even when it all seemed like folly, their belief in something they couldn’t explain, something they couldn’t see, something they didn’t understand.

You remember the story, Abram and Sarai (their original names)  were told to move from the home they knew to a new home, a place they did not know. And in that new place God promises them children. Even though they were childless and very very old, far beyond child bearing years, God says, don’t worry, have faith, I will provide!

 These quotations are full of hope and blessed assurance. In many ways they offer a formula for our faith—- we believe, God provides. 

We believe even when it seems impossible. 

We believe even when we don’t want to, when we don’t know how it’s going to look, we believe against all odds, for God doesn’t operate according to our ways, God operates according to God’s ways.

And God’s way? God’s way is the way of truth and light and love. It is the way of righteousness, it is the only way, it is The Way. 

I think the example of Abraham and Sarah is one we all can benefit from. Abraham questioned, argued, debated, wondered, and Sarah? Well as we hear elsewhere in Genesis, Sarah laughed. 

Questioning, arguing, wondering and laughing are all, I think, pleasing before the Lord, especially when such things lead us to believe. 

Now belief isn’t some pie in the sky method of living, belief isn’t signing off on every single nuance of the Christian Faith, nor is it saying that you always, always accept every decision of the Episcopal Church, this diocese or even this congregation.

Belief is knowing, somewhere in your heart, in your soul, in your gut, that God is. That Love exists, that peace is possible and that through this God...who we can’t prove, we can’t describe and yet we can’t live without...all things are possible.

Belief takes what we profess in the creed and gives it skin and bones... it’s what we live everyday and it is (at least I hope it is) what we fall back on when things are rough, when we feel lost, lonely and afraid. Belief is what we hold onto. And when we work that belief, when we exercise our faith, it becomes a part of us so that when times do get so tough, when life does feels so difficult, when Hope seems so fleeting, the belief we have worked on, the belief we have exercised, is what will hold onto us. 

Belief is what we hold onto so that when we lose our way, our belief will hold onto us. 

My friends, it is, as Jesus says in the gospel, God’s  good  pleasure to give us the kingdom. To give us everything, always and forever. Of course, God doesn’t always give us what we want, but God always gives us what we need, for it is God’s good pleasure to do so. All we have to do, is believe. 

So don’t worry whether your prayers are eloquent enough, if your faith is strong enough, just look at the stars expanding across the night sky and remember what God can do when we simply say, “yes, Lord, I believe.”

Amen.

Only when we take this personally will we act purposefully.

From Colossians:

“But now you must get rid of all such things—anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive language from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have stripped off the old self with its practices and have clothed yourselves with the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator. In that renewal there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all!”

Dear God may we learn this.

Know this.

Live this.

Today we need to figure out, deep in our hearts and our souls, what to do. 

There is an epidemic of hate in our world.

The rhetoric is coming from the highest levels of our government, it is being acted out by lost and rageful white men who are citizens of the very country they are destroying. 

If this was happening elsewhere—-when this has happened elsewhere— we as a country unite and act to wage peace in their lands.

Who will wage peace in ours?

Blessed are the peacemakers.

Who are the peacemakers?

We are. 

Instead of the readings and the creed and the confession we usually recite on Sundays, to day we need to dig deep.

Really deep, to determine how we can stop this madness. 

How we can turn the tide of America

How we can activate the Jesus Movement here and now. 

We will never fully live unless we are willing to remember and honor those who have died....

Because of our Day of Discovery, the Eucharist was going to be shortened anyway. This morning we are changing it up quite a bit.

To get us started we are going to listen to some music, pray a litany and then have some silence.

We will then offer the peace. When the peace if offered look in each other’s eyes and realize that it is up to you to save the other person. Only when we take this personally will we act purposefully. 

We will then break bread together as our Lord taught us. For without this nourishment, we are nothing. 

Going off script with God July 28, 2019 Proper 12

I remember, soon after I was ordained, my mother asking me to offer grace before a family dinner. I was in town because a very close family friend was seriously ill and none of us thought he would live through the night. So I commenced to offer a  standard food blessing, with a petition for Richard tacked onto the end. My mother, being a fairly rigid person, said "Amen," as soon as I ended the familiar "grace" portion of the prayer... She was used to a specific formula for saying grace and darn it how dare I mess with it! My mom was astounded that I would " go off script" while praying.

The disciples ask Jesus: teach us how to pray. John the Baptist did for his followers, do it for us, give us the formula, write us a script.

Everyone wants the inside track on the right way, the fool proof correct way to pray.

As if there is a wrong way to pray.

This is Jesus' point at the end of today's Gospel--- knock---Whatever you do knock! That is, PRAY, people. Whatever, however, wherever, whenever....God wants to engage us in a conversation. God wants to hear from us. God needs to hear from us!

And this is what personal prayer is: a conversation with God. Whenever we speak to God, God listens.

God may not respond as we expect ( or wish or sometimes demand ) but God does listen and God does communicate back to us through the work of the Holy Spirit.

But what the disciples were asking, and what many people ask me is, just what’s the magic formula...the exact right way to pray?

I understand the question. People assume that God is like us. Like my mother--That God has a very distinct and proscribed way of doing things. That God is of the "my way or the highway" club.

God isn't.

However, because the disciples are an earnest bunch, Jesus offers them a formula for prayer. An outline of what a prayer could --NOT SHOULD-- look and sound like. The Lord's Prayer. Now it's  important to realize that although the prayer is known the world over- it's one of  the first prayers children learn, it's one most all of us have memorized -- it is not the be all and end all of prayers. It's simply an example, a prototype for a general kind of all encompassing prayer. It isn't magic, it's just handy.

We needn't pray as the Lord's Prayer is structured, nor must we pray like others pray. We must pray as we feel compelled to pray.

The only absolute is that we do, indeed, pray!

However that looks and however that sounds.

Author and Christian seeker Anne Lamott says that all prayer falls into three categories:

Thanks

Help

Wow.

THANKS

 thanks for giving me life

Thanks for giving me love.

Thanks for healing my hurts , my illness, my loss, my sadness

Thanks for getting me through that sticky wicket.

THANKS. Thanks thanks

HELP

Help me I'm lost

Help me I'm scared

Help me I'm hurt

Help me I'm over whelmed

Help me

Help them

Help us

WOW

wow what An amazing sunset

Wow what an incredible baby

Wow that's some kind of Love

Wow this is some kind of life

Wow. You amaze me God--you totally and completely amaze me.

WOW WOW WOW.

I tend to agree with Anne. This is all God needs.

The basics.

Thanks….Help…..Wow

Have you ever been in a period of profound pain and loss and fear? Have you ever had people intentionally and consistently pray for you during that time? Have you felt their prayers? 

I have. Through my own journey with cancer, through my spouse’s cancer fight and death. 

And I’m here to tell you, it works. I’ve been sustained by and through the prayers of so many people… As a woman of faith I've certainly done my share of praying and  intellectually I’ve known that research shows the effectiveness of prayer. But it wasn’t until I was the recipient of extensive, intensive, pointed prayer that I understood---deep in my bones, my heart and my soul---the power of prayer. 

After two year’s of Pete’s illness and death in 2017, followed several months later by my mom’s own decline and death... through a complete change of staff responsibilities that accompany a change in Bishops, through a major move.... people ask me all the time——how are you still standing? Perhaps I am strong, perhaps I am resilient, perhaps I am stubborn and perhaps all those characteristics have helped. 

But I know the primary reason, prayer. My own, sure. But the real power comes from the prayers of others. The intercessory prayer of people across this diocese, that’s what has and does sustain me.

I was, and remain incredibly humbled by my prayer warriors and have seen again and again and again that same intentional intercessory prayer work absolute wonders for others. Prayer works. The prayer of others offers the recipient a spiritual undergirding that buoys them up enough to endure whatever it is they are enduring. Prayer brings peace to the hearts and souls of those who are prayed for. Your prayers, my prayers, our prayers are powerful. Your prayers, my prayers, our prayers have a clear and definite effect in this world. And it is our responsibility, our duty, but above all else 

{i hope}our honor to offer prayers for others. Always.  

So, my charge to you is to pray.

Take the church directory and every single day, pray a page of that directory. The next day, the next page. Rinse and repeat!

Pray for those you know and for those you don’t.

Create a prayer chain, join the prayer chain and pray, as best you can. 

Go off script, blaze your own path and in your own words and through your own heart find a way to tell God thanks, to ask God for Help and to offer God Wow. 

Amen.