12c
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 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 be engaged in conversation. With 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’s like us. Like my mother--that God has a very distinct and proscribed way of doing things.
God doesn’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.
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. Throughout the many losses I’ve experienced over the past five years I know that I’m still standing because of my prayer warriors.
The intercessory prayer of people, some I know, some I never will, that’s what sustains me.
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. Our prayers are powerful. 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.
Sometimes that prayer may be HELP!!! Sometimes it might be, What the????? Sometimes it might be a deep and abiding thank you. Sometimes it might just be taking a couple of minutes—-or even a few seconds—- being quiet and acknowledging that God is with you. Whenever you do it, however you do it, pray each day—you will, I promise, notice a difference.
Amen.
Proper 13 C
All three of our readings today are about being distracted from God by the “stuff” of our life.
The author of Ecclesiastes dissects the vanities of our life—-those things which move us farther away from God. Note that the author isn’t saying that it’s necessarily the tasks that distract, but rather our worry, focus upon, concern about the tasks that is vanity. And what is vanity? All the stuff of this world.
Our psalmist, who writes: “The wickedness of those who put their trust in their goods, *and boast of their great riches,” seems to be targeting wealth in material goods as the source of great distraction, of moving us farther away from God rather than closer.
In the Epistle, Paul instructs the Colossians to put all the things of this life—the “earthly things”— away for our hearts, minds and souls should be focused upon higher things, better things, Godly things.
And in our Gospel Jesus tells the man asking for a rebuke against his brother regarding the family inheritance, that his focus is misplaced and that no matter how many barns he fills with goods, no matter how many “riches” he stores on earth, without being rich toward God, he has nothing.
So clearly, we have a theme here….I suppose the easy way out, especially if I wanted to hammer home some old and tired saw about stewardship, is to say that the build up of material goods is bad and we should take all abundance and give it to the church. But I don’t think that’s the message here. I don’t think today’s readings are about the stuff we acquire outside of ourselves, I think they’re about the distraction we experience in our hearts, minds and souls when obsessed with gaining more goods, more influence, and more financial security. These things detour us away from God.
I think our readings are telling us to be focused on the things that are good: when focused on God, our hearts will be full, our minds will be at peace and our souls will rejoice.
And don’t we need that? I rarely watch the network evening news, but every few weeks I tune in because I feel guilty that I’m not watching. Invariably I turn it off within the first few minutes because everything—the reporting as well as the commercials— seem to focus on either the evil of this world or the pursuit of more money, better skin, different insurance or smarter kids. I find myself becoming more on edge, aggravated, despairing…distracted about what I don’t have, what I should have, what I want to have. But when I turn off the tv, when I walk my dogs through the neighborhood or sit on my deck and watch the sunset or call a friend for a chat, I relax, am content and hopeful. One focus: on the stuff the world thinks I should have, or the news the world feels the need to sensationalize and the stuff in my mind pulls me away from God; while the other focus, the one that is on above, on God, on Love doesn’t cause any dis-ease, rather it settles soundly, deep in my soul and the distractions and demands of this world suddenly quiet and feel more manageable and less distracting.
May our take away from this morning’s readings be as simple and as complex as this: if it is of God there is no worry. If it is not of God, it’s only worry. Or put another way: the love of God, which surpasses all understanding focuses our hearts, minds and souls on the one we call Savior, Jesus Christ, the One who will gladly take away our worries, vanities and distractions, freeing us to be the vessels of love God designed us to be.
Amen.
Proper 14c
Yes Lord, I believe Proper 14C August 7, 2022
“Yes Lord, I believe.” A friend of mine always says this when he receives communion. It’s a compelling response to the sacrament.
“Yes Lord, I believe.” A powerful statement that stays with me for days after I hear it.
In the letter to the Hebrews we’re reminded of the great belief Abraham and Sarah exhibited when first called by God:
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 far beyond child bearing years, God says, don’t worry, have faith, I will provide, giving you more descendants than stars in the sky. And God did.
The story of Abraham and Sarah offers a formula for our faith—- we believe, God provides.
When we are operating from a place of faith we believe even though everything we know tells us we shouldn’t. But God doesn’t operate according to our ways, God operates according to God’s way.
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… 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 accept every decision of the Episcopal Church, this diocesean partnership, the Genesee Deanery Project 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 available and that through this God…One 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 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.
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.
Until We’re All at the Table, None of Us Will Eat Proper 17c Aug 28, 2022
When I was a little girl, the teenagers in my hometown 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—girls learning how to be the perfect dinner companion, boys learning to be the perfect escort. I watched my sisters participate 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.
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 disabled, the lost, the lonely, the immigrant, the refugee, the despised, 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 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’s about equity
It’s about justice
It’s about love.
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. With kindness.
This means that when we consider our involvement in the Genesee Deanery Project we don’t take a superior attitude because we have more financial resources than most of the other congregations; it means when we donate things to the the Thrift Store we don’t donate old beat up things but rather we donate nice things that we are able to offer to someone else; it means that when we buy our non-perishable foods we buy the same brand, the same quality for that which we will donate to the blessing box. It means when this congregation makes a change in something for the greater good we accept it with grace rather than tolerate it with behind the back grumblings.
I’m convinced that we will bring God’s kingdom to fruition on this earth when we act as Jesus instructs: with humility, acceptance, honesty, grace and, above all else, love. We can change the world but we can’t do it by beating everyone else to the head of the line. We do it by helping EVERYONE reach the head of the line.
Because, until all are at the table none of us can eat.
Amen.
Connie Findlay Funeral
In our reading from the prophet Isaiah we hear about being anointed by the spirit of God.
Connie Findlay knew all about the spirit of God and she was anointed to bind up the broken hearted, to wipe away the tears of children—her own, her neighbors, kids at church—-when the vagaries of this world hurt them—-whether their team lost, their heart was broken or their worry was great, Connie was there…to wipe away tears when needed, to offer a wallop from the wooden spoon when warranted, Connie was there.
She was a grandmother, mother, wife, sister, daughter, friend—she was —-all 4 ft 9 inches of her ——a force to be reckoned with.
And, at least in my experience, she was also a pistol. A couple of weeks ago I visited her at Premier and since she was having trouble eating I suggested she put her teeth in. She insisted that the teeth on her tray were mine, not hers. It was clear that she was razzing me because once Jim arrived, she popped those babies right in. As I said, she was a pistol.
Toots, as the kids called her, was a woman of great and profound faith. She—especially since the death of her beloved Jack—lived in sure and certain hope of the resurrection. She wasn’t afraid of death at all, I think a part of her looked forward to being reunited with Jack, but she also didn’t want to let her kids down…these last weeks she repeatedly told me that she had really good kids. I realized that what she needed to hear was that they were going to be ok, that she wasn’t letting them down by heading home to her Lord. She was so proud of you—her kids and grandkids—don’t forget that.
Jesus tells us, again and again that following him means acting like him: loving others as we ourselves are loved by God. As my father would say, Connie did that in spades. As a matter of fact she may have lived this to a fault. How many times did the kids tell her: “do something for yourself, buy what you want, splurge a little!” But you see it wasn’t siding the house, installing central a/c, or the trip of a lifetime that brought Connie joy. What did bring her joy was her family, friends, and faith, caring for and enjoying her kids and grandkids, serving her church through the choir, altar guild or baking for events, Connie served just as her Lord directed her to.
Last Sunday, as she lay in great weakness, I whispered in Connie’s ear that she should follow those who came for her, that they needed her to follow, that it was time. I told her not to worry about those she was leaving behind because she had taught them well, they would be ok. Because when someone is such an Oak of Righteousness as Connie Findlay was, letting go is not easy. But I knew she was ready, for she had told me she was.
Connie and I only knew each other a short while, but I’m pretty sure she had my number and we would have gotten into some good trouble together. Connie my friend, rest in peace, we’ve got it from here. And thank you. Thank you for everything.
Amen.
Proper 21c The Rich Man Has No Voice
+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 his torment, he still cannot hear what it’s being said.
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 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.
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, beside homself that no one will warn his brothers. No matter how much he begs, his shouts bear no fruit.
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?
Many years ago I received a phone call from a woman requesting food from the Church of 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 and yet she was so grateful. Grateful that I listened to her, because when you’re in a position of needing to access food pantries, you’re rarely heard.
To a good portion of our world, poor people 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’re reached, touched, found and heard.
And this reaching, listening, and noticing? It's up to US. Not the wealthy, not the famous and filthy rich. Nope. US.
We have a choice: We can be the rich man paying no heed to Lazarus or we can be the shepherd searching for the one out of 99.
We can open our eyes, ears and 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.
Money’s 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 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.
Proper 26C
So a short guy who is an officer of the Roman occupying force wants to see Jesus. Zaccheaus’ motivation isn’t clear in the Gospel so all we have left is assumption. Why would he climb a tree to see Jesus? Sure, he was short but for an officer of the Empire to do something so undignified as climb a tree to “see what this guy Jesus was up to,” was at best unusual and at worst, an act of treason against the Emperor. So…why does Luke include this story about Jesus and yet another tax collector? Because Jesus was all about folks getting their feet on the ground, their hands dirty, and their engagement in ministry, mutual. Which is why (I think) Jesus tells Zacchaeus to get back down on the ground and have him over for dinner. Because following Jesus isn’t a spectator sport. It’s participatory. Zacchaeus in the tree is like the man who faithfully attends church every Sunday only to cheat on his taxes and kick his dog M-Saturday. Somehow he thinks showing up at church but not letting the message penetrate in any discernible way is enough. It’s not. We have to get down and dirty whether it’s volunteering at the Thrift Store, engaging with the Ukrainian family we’re assisting, planning an ecumenical food drive to replenish the Blessing Box, or any of other myriad of ways you all represent the light of Christ and the love of God to the world.
Faith is all about doing rather than looking, about living it rather than talking about, about being in it instead observing others doing it. Those who talk but don’t do might as well climb a tree and watch the show.
I think all of this was on display at our diocesan conventions this weekend. As I mentioned in my email, there was a resolution put forth to dissolve the partnership between our two dioceses, to remove Bishop Sean as the Bishop of WNY and to dissolve the one Bishop, one staff concept. Through social media, pointed emails and gossip, a few folks in WNY decided to blame all the heart-ache, disappointment, and anger in their lives on this experiment for the sake of the Gospel we’ve been engaged in since 2019.
But the resolution failed. Monumentally.
And while I think we’ve done some really good work in the Partnership and that we’re just getting in the groove, I think the reason the resolution was so soundly defeated is because the vote came after a day of workshops and field trips, of conversations, meals and worship. Together, in person, we looked each other in the eye and worked together. We weren’t passive observers of this idea to join two dioceses, one staff and one Bishop, combining resources; we weren’t sitting on the sidelines, writing angry Facebook posts or mailing out anonymous letters, we were followers of Jesus disagreeing about some things, agreeing about others and committing to continue this work, forgiving mistakes, celebrating successes and being open to ideas that challenge, frighten, surprise, and excite us.
Zaccheuas was on the periphery, looking at the scene but Jesus pulled him down to get involved, to live and to do from the inside.
This morning the question our times present to us is this:
Are you a “sitting out looking in” Christian or are you a rolling up your sleeves and doing Christian? What is Jesus calling you to do, what is Jesus urging us to do? Climb a tree or join the fray?
Amen.
Imagine this…you’ve been driven out of your home, far away from everything familiar. You’ve been taken captive by negative, angry, vengeful people who want nothing more than to have you wait on them hand and foot. How would you react? Rebel? Seethe? Accept? Dream of a better day?
In this morning’s readings from Isaiah —both our first reading and the canticle are readings the Prophet Isaiah wrote to the people of Israel, imprisoned in Babylon. Isaiah heard God promise to return the Israelites to their homeland, to free them from their oppressors returning them to the the land of milk and honey. Isaiah writes: “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,the lion shall eat straw like the ox;” In other words, the lion need not be feared the lamb will frolick with the wolf—no more danger,hate or fear. This dream is given to the captives and they hold onto it…it helps, it gets them through.
But, this dream’s not reserved for only the ancient Israelites, it’s the same dream that drove our forebears to leave their homelands and come to America, to——as my ancestors did—-escape persecution for being protestant Irish.
It’s what our Irish, Italian, Russian, Polish, Greek and other ancestors did. it’s what the Ukranian family we’ve been assisting is doing as they fled their war-torn home to find a safe place of opportunity for their children, here.
It’s what, in recent years, Afghani, Iraqi, Burmese, Bantu, Syrian and countless others have done. It’s what Mexican, Cuban, Central American and South American families do today. It’s what’s colored humanity forever: when it is no good here, we travel there, hoping for a fresh start, a safe place, new opportunites.
This dream should unify us—-for we’ve all come from away. Most of our ancestors were fueled by this universal dream of things getting better, of the bad times not having the last word, of the good and the hopeful and the light prevailing because what we know is this: God loves us too much to have us suffer endlessly.
And so we have Isaiah, painting a picture of a world that, as I so often say, refelcts the dream of God rather than the nightmare we’ve created. We can hold onto Isaiah…and we need to as we enter this pre-Advent and Advent time.
[OK…sidebar: back in the 8th century or so Advent was 6 weeks long, not four. Because of this our readings the couple of weeks before the First Sunday of Advent are full of apocalyptic (end times) imagery. Advent is a season of anticipating the coming of God in the flesh, Jesus of Nazareth—as the baby away in a manger and as the Risen one, who will return. In Advent we look forward to the first coming as we await the second.]
So here we are, two weeks before Advent, hearing the soothing dream language of Isaiah promising that the strife of the current day will end and we’ll be returned to the land of peace, love and light. A place where all matter of things shall be well.
So what does that do for us today? Well hopefully it reminds us that no matter how dark the night, no matter how long the struggle, no matter how terrifying the nightmare, horror never ever has the last word. We may be suffering now and in some way I know many of you here today are —worried, frightened, lonely——but it will not win, it will not last, it will no prevail. For in God there is only one promise: that God loves us more than we can ever love ourselves so no matter how deep the despair, no matter how painful the memory… no matter how terrifying the prognosis, God is here.
It’s how the Israelites survived their captivity, it’s how the enslaved people of 19th century America survived, it’s how our forebears survived and it’s how the Ukranian people and all who suffer for the sake of conscience across the globe survive each day:
in sure and certain hope that Isaiah’s dream is God’s reality, all we have to do is make it so.
Amen
Imagine this…you’ve been driven out of your home, far away from everything familiar. You’ve been taken captive by negative, angry, vengeful people who want nothing more than to have you wait on them hand and foot. How would you react? Rebel? Seethe? Accept? Dream of a better day?
In this morning’s readings from Isaiah —both our first reading and the canticle are readings the Prophet Isaiah wrote to the people of Israel, imprisoned in Babylon. Isaiah heard God promise to return the Israelites to their homeland, to free them from their oppressors returning them to the the land of milk and honey. Isaiah writes: “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,the lion shall eat straw like the ox;” In other words, the lion need not be feared the lamb will frolick with the wolf—no more danger,hate or fear. This dream is given to the captives and they hold onto it…it helps, it gets them through.
But, this dream’s not reserved for only the ancient Israelites, it’s the same dream that drove our forebears to leave their homelands and come to America, to——as my ancestors did—-escape persecution for being protestant Irish.
It’s what our Irish, Italian, Russian, Polish, Greek and other ancestors did. it’s what the Ukranian family we’ve been assisting is doing as they fled their war-torn home to find a safe place of opportunity for their children, here.
It’s what, in recent years, Afghani, Iraqi, Burmese, Bantu, Syrian and countless others have done. It’s what Mexican, Cuban, Central American and South American families do today. It’s what’s colored humanity forever: when it is no good here, we travel there, hoping for a fresh start, a safe place, new opportunites.
This dream should unify us—-for we’ve all come from away. Most of our ancestors were fueled by this universal dream of things getting better, of the bad times not having the last word, of the good and the hopeful and the light prevailing because what we know is this: God loves us too much to have us suffer endlessly.
And so we have Isaiah, painting a picture of a world that, as I so often say, refelcts the dream of God rather than the nightmare we’ve created. We can hold onto Isaiah…and we need to as we enter this pre-Advent and Advent time.
[OK…sidebar: back in the 8th century or so Advent was 6 weeks long, not four. Because of this our readings the couple of weeks before the First Sunday of Advent are full of apocalyptic (end times) imagery. Advent is a season of anticipating the coming of God in the flesh, Jesus of Nazareth—as the baby away in a manger and as the Risen one, who will return. In Advent we look forward to the first coming as we await the second.]
So here we are, two weeks before Advent, hearing the soothing dream language of Isaiah promising that the strife of the current day will end and we’ll be returned to the land of peace, love and light. A place where all matter of things shall be well.
So what does that do for us today? Well hopefully it reminds us that no matter how dark the night, no matter how long the struggle, no matter how terrifying the nightmare, horror never ever has the last word. We may be suffering now and in some way I know many of you here today are —worried, frightened, lonely——but it will not win, it will not last, it will no prevail. For in God there is only one promise: that God loves us more than we can ever love ourselves so no matter how deep the despair, no matter how painful the memory… no matter how terrifying the prognosis, God is here.
It’s how the Israelites survived their captivity, it’s how the enslaved people of 19th century America survived, it’s how our forebears survived and it’s how the Ukranian people and all who suffer for the sake of conscience across the globe survive each day:
in sure and certain hope that Isaiah’s dream is God’s reality, all we have to do is make it so.
Amen
Imagine this…you’ve been driven out of your home, far away from everything familiar. You’ve been taken captive by negative, angry, vengeful people who want nothing more than to have you wait on them hand and foot. How would you react? Rebel? Seethe? Accept? Dream of a better day?
In this morning’s readings from Isaiah —both our first reading and the canticle are readings the Prophet Isaiah wrote to the people of Israel, imprisoned in Babylon. Isaiah heard God promise to return the Israelites to their homeland, to free them from their oppressors returning them to the the land of milk and honey. Isaiah writes: “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,the lion shall eat straw like the ox;” In other words, the lion need not be feared the lamb will frolick with the wolf—no more danger,hate or fear. This dream is given to the captives and they hold onto it…it helps, it gets them through.
But, this dream’s not reserved for only the ancient Israelites, it’s the same dream that drove our forebears to leave their homelands and come to America, to——as my ancestors did—-escape persecution for being protestant Irish.
It’s what our Irish, Italian, Russian, Polish, Greek and other ancestors did. it’s what the Ukranian family we’ve been assisting is doing as they fled their war-torn home to find a safe place of opportunity for their children, here.
It’s what, in recent years, Afghani, Iraqi, Burmese, Bantu, Syrian and countless others have done. It’s what Mexican, Cuban, Central American and South American families do today. It’s what’s colored humanity forever: when it is no good here, we travel there, hoping for a fresh start, a safe place, new opportunites.
This dream should unify us—-for we’ve all come from away. Most of our ancestors were fueled by this universal dream of things getting better, of the bad times not having the last word, of the good and the hopeful and the light prevailing because what we know is this: God loves us too much to have us suffer endlessly.
And so we have Isaiah, painting a picture of a world that, as I so often say, refelcts the dream of God rather than the nightmare we’ve created. We can hold onto Isaiah…and we need to as we enter this pre-Advent and Advent time.
[OK…sidebar: back in the 8th century or so Advent was 6 weeks long, not four. Because of this our readings the couple of weeks before the First Sunday of Advent are full of apocalyptic (end times) imagery. Advent is a season of anticipating the coming of God in the flesh, Jesus of Nazareth—as the baby away in a manger and as the Risen one, who will return. In Advent we look forward to the first coming as we await the second.]
So here we are, two weeks before Advent, hearing the soothing dream language of Isaiah promising that the strife of the current day will end and we’ll be returned to the land of peace, love and light. A place where all matter of things shall be well.
So what does that do for us today? Well hopefully it reminds us that no matter how dark the night, no matter how long the struggle, no matter how terrifying the nightmare, horror never ever has the last word. We may be suffering now and in some way I know many of you here today are —worried, frightened, lonely——but it will not win, it will not last, it will no prevail. For in God there is only one promise: that God loves us more than we can ever love ourselves so no matter how deep the despair, no matter how painful the memory… no matter how terrifying the prognosis, God is here.
It’s how the Israelites survived their captivity, it’s how the enslaved people of 19th century America survived, it’s how our forebears survived and it’s how the Ukranian people and all who suffer for the sake of conscience across the globe survive each day:
in sure and certain hope that Isaiah’s dream is God’s reality, all we have to do is make it so.
Amen
Imagine this…you’ve been driven out of your home, far away from everything familiar. You’ve been taken captive by negative, angry, vengeful people who want nothing more than to have you wait on them hand and foot. How would you react? Rebel? Seethe? Accept? Dream of a better day?
In this morning’s readings from Isaiah —both our first reading and the canticle are readings the Prophet Isaiah wrote to the people of Israel, imprisoned in Babylon. Isaiah heard God promise to return the Israelites to their homeland, to free them from their oppressors returning them to the the land of milk and honey. Isaiah writes: “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,the lion shall eat straw like the ox;” In other words, the lion need not be feared the lamb will frolick with the wolf—no more danger,hate or fear. This dream is given to the captives and they hold onto it…it helps, it gets them through.
But, this dream’s not reserved for only the ancient Israelites, it’s the same dream that drove our forebears to leave their homelands and come to America, to——as my ancestors did—-escape persecution for being protestant Irish.
It’s what our Irish, Italian, Russian, Polish, Greek and other ancestors did. it’s what the Ukranian family we’ve been assisting is doing as they fled their war-torn home to find a safe place of opportunity for their children, here.
It’s what, in recent years, Afghani, Iraqi, Burmese, Bantu, Syrian and countless others have done. It’s what Mexican, Cuban, Central American and South American families do today. It’s what’s colored humanity forever: when it is no good here, we travel there, hoping for a fresh start, a safe place, new opportunites.
This dream should unify us—-for we’ve all come from away. Most of our ancestors were fueled by this universal dream of things getting better, of the bad times not having the last word, of the good and the hopeful and the light prevailing because what we know is this: God loves us too much to have us suffer endlessly.
And so we have Isaiah, painting a picture of a world that, as I so often say, refelcts the dream of God rather than the nightmare we’ve created. We can hold onto Isaiah…and we need to as we enter this pre-Advent and Advent time.
[OK…sidebar: back in the 8th century or so Advent was 6 weeks long, not four. Because of this our readings the couple of weeks before the First Sunday of Advent are full of apocalyptic (end times) imagery. Advent is a season of anticipating the coming of God in the flesh, Jesus of Nazareth—as the baby away in a manger and as the Risen one, who will return. In Advent we look forward to the first coming as we await the second.]
So here we are, two weeks before Advent, hearing the soothing dream language of Isaiah promising that the strife of the current day will end and we’ll be returned to the land of peace, love and light. A place where all matter of things shall be well.
So what does that do for us today? Well hopefully it reminds us that no matter how dark the night, no matter how long the struggle, no matter how terrifying the nightmare, horror never ever has the last word. We may be suffering now and in some way I know many of you here today are —worried, frightened, lonely——but it will not win, it will not last, it will no prevail. For in God there is only one promise: that God loves us more than we can ever love ourselves so no matter how deep the despair, no matter how painful the memory… no matter how terrifying the prognosis, God is here.
It’s how the Israelites survived their captivity, it’s how the enslaved people of 19th century America survived, it’s how our forebears survived and it’s how the Ukranian people and all who suffer for the sake of conscience across the globe survive each day:
in sure and certain hope that Isaiah’s dream is God’s reality, all we have to do is make it so.
Amen
Christ The King 2022 Yr C
+ Today is Christ the King Sunday, also known as the Reign of Christ. But just what do we mean by all this talk of Reign…and Kingship?…
It’s a day when we commemorate Jesus Christ as the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. It’s a day when, as we close out the church year, we celebrate that our King, this King isn’t a king of royal palaces or of bejeweled crowns or of ermine robes. No today we remember that our king, this king died the death of a common criminal, that he was deserted by his friends and mocked by his captors.
Today we remember that our King, the King of our hearts and minds and souls isn’t a King of the powerful but is the King of the weak. Today we’re reminded that our King isn’t the commander of a mighty army but is the Prince of all Peace. Today we remember that neither death nor life, not angels nor rulers, not present things nor future things, not powers nor principalities can determine our fate. Today we remember that Christ is our King, that Jesus is our Lord and that all of our power, all of our hope and all of our love is found in and through Him.
Today we celebrate that this faith of ours is as counter-cultural in the year 2022 as it was in the year 30.
I believe that many of us would be crucified today if Herod was our king,,,,
Today we celebrate the fact that for 2000 years we have left those in our wake scratching their heads and saying, “those Christians, are they nuts?’
Today we face the increasing intolerance of our world by saying, The Episcopal Church Welcomes You. Yes, You. And you, and you and you. The Episcopal Church welcomes the stranger, the refugee, the outcast, the hated, the different, the difficult and the destitute.
Today we face the ever-expanding hate of this world by saying, “we, as followers of Jesus Christ, love everyone.” Today we remind everyone in our world that although we may not like everyone all the time we do love everyone all of the time. Not because we necessarily want to, but because we must, because our Lord, our King, our Savior tells us that it is only by loving everyone that we ourselves can fully receive all the love God pours out upon us.
Today we face the never-ending uncertainty about our safety by saying that we, as people of deep faith, may not know what tomorrow holds, but that, as people of deep faith we know that all matter of things will be well because we are beloved children of God.
Today we remember that our King isn’t found on Pennsylvania Avenue or on Wall Street.
Today we remember that our King isn’t found in the money we make or the houses we build.
Today we remember that our King isn’t the winner of reality shows like the Voice, or Survivor or America’s Got Talent.
Today we remember that our King isn’t a Sabre or a Bill or even a Cub.
Today we remember that our King, this King, is too full of Love and Light, too full of Truth and Grace to be derailed by the darkness of this world.
Today we remember that our King, this King is the manifestation of God’s Love for us and that if we only remember who our King is, if we only remember what this King taught us---to love one another as we ourselves are loved---then this King, our King, the King, will reign not only in heaven but always and forever in our hearts.
For today, when we remember Him, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, he will remember us.
Amen.
