Advent 1A
+Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a season beginning in darkness and ending in an explosion of light bursting forth from a crib in a barn, because there was no room at the inn.
In Advent we’re encouraged to shed the darkness of this world and put on the “armor of light” that is the world of Jesus Christ. But rather than having readings about the angel’s visit to Mary, or Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth or Joseph’s dilemma when he finds out Mary is pregnant, we hear Paul remind us to avoid revelry and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy…for, as Jesus tells us in the Gospel, we know not the day nor the hour of the Lord’s return, so we best be ready…ho ho ho, right?
But having readings like this makes sense if put into context. You see, our readings this morning are not speaking about the first Advent—that is God coming to live among us in the person of Jesus Christ—these readings are about the second Advent, the second coming of Jesus on the last day. And, they implore us to be ready for that last day by taking stock of our lives, reviewing, correcting, and rededicating. Sounds an awful lot like Lent doesn’t it? It is, by design, a penitential season of sorts— a season to focus on becoming reconciled with God. But it’s not like Lent when we lay ourselves bare before God. No Advent is when we prepare for God to lays God’s self-bare before us[1]---when God comes to dwell among us in the stark vulnerability of a newborn.
What a fabulous image ---God laid out before us, in all the glory, wonder and peacefulness of a new-born.
What a gift God gives us by coming to us, in the flesh! And all we’re asked to do in return is to receive this gift---to take this baby in our arms and love Him as much as He loves us.
Our Advent task is actually pretty simple---preparing our heart, our minds, and our souls to welcome the greatest gift of all time---God in the flesh. A God who came to live among us, as one of us, not to scare us, not to scold us, but to simply and profoundly, LOVE US.
But, accepting that love means we have to be open to it, READY for it. Because to accept the vulnerability of that baby who is God we must shed all darkness, cast off all fear, toss aside all worry, turn away from all hate.
To accept the vulnerability of that baby who is God we must take on the light and love and peace that is God. That’s why all the Christmas carols playing non-stop on the radio, the clerks in stores wishing us a Merry Christmas before the Thanksgiving Turkey is even cold, the Christmas trees trimmed and the lights hung with care is just fine during Advent. Because it’s the Christmas spirit that opens us to receive the gift that is Jesus Christ.
Think about the mood change in the world this time of year. People are happier. People think about what others mean to them and then tell them! People are kinder. Gentler. More peaceful.
In other words, during Advent and Christmas we are who we are always supposed to be
So when we’re told to shed the darkness of this world and put on the light of God, when our readings tell us to turn away from the self-serving behaviors of our day to day to world, when we’re encouraged to beat our swords into ploughshares, and our spears into pruning-hooks we’re being told to GET READY, for the greatest gift of all time is about to be given to us and we best be as ready for it not only today, but tomorrow as well. For although we know neither the day nor the hour of Jesus’ return we do know how we’re supposed to live our life---as if every single day was, indeed Christmas.
So, my friends, welcome to Advent, a brief season of preparation, a time when we shed all that holds us back so that we can put on the source of all light and love and laughter—Jesus the Christ. Amen.
Advent 2A
+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, 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.
Who can imagine anything growing while sitting on the stump of such utter despair?
I’ve sat there myself, perhaps you have, too -- 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. The promise of God 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 creates 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’s 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?”
My friends, a miracle is sprouting, the wonder of God’s approaching, the Prince of Peace 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!
Advent 4 A
+What about Joseph?
In our three year Sunday reading cycle, we only get a reading about Joseph in year A when we read from Matthew’s gospel. The other gospels simply have Joseph as a minor character.
And even in Matthew’s Gospel we just get two stories devoted to Joseph— today’s story of the angel visiting Joseph in a dream and then the tale of the Holy Family’s escape into Egypt to avoid persecution…and then?
Well then Joseph disappears from history. Scholars assume he was killed in one of the many Jewish insurrections against the Roman Empire early in Jesus’ life, but we don’t know.
What about Joseph?
Our prayer book is full of wonderful poetry the canticles (which are read at morning and evening prayer as well as Compline and…occasionally…on a Sunday morning) and the psalms are the most prolific sources of our liturgical verse. We have canticles attributed to all sorts of Biblical characters---the Song of Simeon is a song of praise commemorating the presentation of the infant Jesus 40 days after his birth on what has come to be known as Candlemas; there’s a song of Moses, several songs of Isaiah, a song for Creation and of course the most famous canticle of all: the Song of Mary, The Magnificat.
But what about a Song of Joseph? Even Zechariah, John the Baptist’s dad gets a song….but Joseph? Nada.
It’s a shame really. In this day and age we could really use a song about a good and decent man who, although terrified, confused and full of questions, does the right thing.
A faithful man who wonders as much as Mary did.
A loving man who cared as much as Mary did.
A mature man who knew the Son Mary bore was not biologically his, but Joseph loved him and cared for him as any Father does their Son.
Joseph was a good man. But he has no Song.
That is, until I was channel surfing a few weeks ago and came across some country music Christmas special. I can’t even tell you what it was called or why I stopped to watch…but by doing so I discovered a gem of a song, a song about Jesus, but sung from the perspective of Joseph .
I share it with you now in thanksgiving for all the fathers in this world who do the right thing.
In Thanksgiving for Joseph of Nazareth, Jesus’ earthly father.
And for all father’s and father figures who formed us into who we all are today.
A Strange Way to Save the World
‘Sure he must have been surprised
At where this road had taken him
'Cause never in a million lives
Would he had dreamed of Bethlehem
And standing at the manger
He saw with his own eyes
The message from the angel come to life
And Joseph said...
(CHORUS)
Why me, I'm just a simple man of trade
Why Him, with all the rulers in the world
Why here inside this stable filled with hay
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world
To think of how it could have been
If Jesus had come as He deserved
There would have been no Bethlehem
No lowly shepherds at His birth
But Joseph knew the reason
Love had to reach so far
And as he held the Savior in his arms
He must have thought...
(CHORUS)
Why Him, with all the rulers in the world
Why here inside this stable filled with hay
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world. ‘
...this is such a strange way to save the world...isn’t it? A seemingly ordinary young woman who, without knowing why it is or how it would end, said Yes.
A seemingly ordinary man who, without knowing why it is or how it will end, says yes.
These two people, ordinary people who became extraordinary simply by saying yes, brought us a baby. A simple innocent vulnerable baby.
Who will save us all.
Yes indeed, Joseph,
what a strange and beautiful,
What a strange and stunning
What a strange and magnificent way to save the world.
Joseph reminds us to thank God for good and decent men who say yes, no matter what.
Amen.
[1] A Strange Way To Save The World lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Songwriters: KOCH, DONALD A. / CLARK, DAVID ALLEN / HARRIS, MARK R.
Christmas Eve
The poet Christina Rosetti wrote this in the 19th century:
“Love
came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead,
Love incarnate, love divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and to all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.”
On this Holy Night, when we welcome Ronan into the family of God and into this particular community of faith, we know there are two answers to the question the poet poses: But wherewith the sacred sign?
Well, first, the sacred sign was in that manger in that barn…and second, it will be in that very font as we liturgically welcome Ronan among us. For the sacred sign of God’s Love descending upon us is the miracle of children—whether they are physically born to us, granted to us through the selfless and loving act of adoption-- children are the purist example of God’s Love for everyone everywhere, always.
Ronan, Love came down at Christmas, this Love is lovely and divine and it id for YOU!
Love was born and baptized on Christmas. Beautiful child, never forget that you are the embodiment of God’s Love—pure and divine. You always have been and you always will be, no matter what.
Glory to God in the Highest, Peace on Earth and Goodwill to All, for Love is always here, but especially on this most Holy Night, Love has come down among the sheep, the donkey, the angels the shepherds, and right here, right now at St. James. This is the Holy Night of God,let us Rejoice and Be Glad in It, Alleluia, alleluia!
Holy Name January 1, 2023
Christmas Eve service was cancelled due to the blizzard so Christmas Eve was transferred to Holy Name
January 8
The last two weeks we have, in place of the psalm, read the words of Howard Thurman’s poem:
The Work of Christmas
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among others,
To make music in the heart.
Folks, the work of Epiphany is this work of Christmas—-[ I don’t know how many of you have seen the cartoon that reads: after the three wise men left the three wise women appear, bring gifts of diapers, a casserole and cleaning supplies to clean the stable practical gifts for the survival and comfort of the holy family.]you saw the gifts of items for the Blessing Box—brought forward by our own manifestations of the Magi during the opening hymn—-gifts for the lost, the broken, the hungry. Gifts to provide release from all that imprisons our neighbors, gifts to restore hope for those who feel dismantled and unstructured, gifts of peace from me to you and you to others and them to still others. The work of Christmas is the work of Epiphany because in Epiphany we are to be the manifestation of the Light of Christ in this world, to all those whom we encounter.
Yes, this has been a rough few weeks in Western New York— for goodness sakes, it’s been a tough few years— and when we held our breath and dropped to our collective knees as Damar Hamlin was lying lifeless on the turf in Cincinnati Monday night we thought some version of, “Dear God, no. Don’t take this vibrant young man from us, don’t break the spirit of this team that brings us so much joy and distraction, this organization that does so much good in our community, don’t break their hearts and ours.” We were scared and so we prayed and did what this region of the country does so well. We gave…over 8 million dollars to Damar’s foundation. We checked in with each other, we prayed more, we gave more, we hoped more. And on Thursday when we heard he’d opened his eyes and squeezed the hands of his loved ones…well, I don’t know about you, but I felt profound relief—-I felt hope, peace, light, love, and gratitude. And that feeling has just grown and intensified with every new communication from his family and of course last night, from Damar himself.
This week we’ve been given a great gift—the realization of how much we love our region and how much others, from across the country and the world, love our region: for our grit, our generosity, our loyalty, and our love of the most unlikely of heroes.
From the massacre at Tops in May, to the blizzard of epic proportions in December, to the collective horror at what happened to a young man living out his dream as a pro football player, to the collective release of our collective breath-holding, we’ve been through a lot and through it all we’ve been the manifestation of Christ to one another and to the world that watches us. We’ve manifested the Work of Christmas, we have been the light.
As we say goodbye to Christmas, let’s keep doing this work, let’s keep being who it is we know we can be: Loving, Life Giving, Light Shining followers of that babe in a manger who came as the greatest gift of all time, sent to save each and everyone of us. This work of loving each other is holy, sacred, vital work. It is also rewarding work because when we get knocked down we don’t just get back up and try again—-we jump back up and astonish everyone with our determination to love, in all we do.
Merry Christmas, Happy Epiphany, Thanks be to God and GO BILLS. Amen
Sermon for Diaconal Ordinations January 8, 2023
In her commentary on the Baptism of Christ, poet and author Kathleen Norris notes: “Baptisms are a big deal.” And, as I said to the folks at St James last week, I rarely officiate at a baptism without choking up. Baptism is a big deal. It’s the fundamental sacrament of our lives as Christians. As Norris goes on to say, we don’t usually qualify our baptisms by saying “I was baptized Episcopal, or Lutheran or Methodist or Presbyterian or Roman Catholic.” We’re just baptized. No denominational branding required. And to be baptized, especially in our tradition, there are very few pre-requisites, after all how much should we demand of a baby? Baptism is a great equalizer.
The liturgical renewal of the 1960’s and 70’s in the Episcopal Church was all about the ministry of the baptized, redirecting our focus on the largest segment of the church, the laity. To be a full member of the church is to be baptized. Period.
Baptism is a big deal.
So why did we choose to use the Baptism of Christ readings for this ordination instead of the suggested readings? Why celebrate the setting apart of Robin and Diane on a day when we’re talking about the sacrament of the church that’s about all of us, not just some of us?
I’ll admit to wondering about that as well until I went back to Norris’s article. There she asks, why in the world is Jesus—-the Son of God—-asking John the Baptist to baptize him? Will John’s prayers and his dunking of Jesus into the Jordan better prepare Jesus for being the Savior of the World?
Will celebrating the baptism of Christ at an ordination help us all understand ordination and what’s about to happen here any better?
Well….yes.
Jesus didn’t “need” to be baptized by John before he began his ministry—as Matthew writes, John would have prevented this from happening, but, Jesus persists and John consents. Jesus says its to fulfill all righteousness—to follow the rules, to do things in the right order—-in other words, Jesus is being baptized because that’s what happens first—- even for the Savior of the World.
Why do we have an ordination on a day devoted to baptism?
Because before one is ordained, one is baptized.
What’s about to happen here is a conclusion which leads to a beginning. For Diane and Robin the conclusion is after many years of study, examination, reflection, challenge and discernment by both of them and by our Partnership Dioceses. They’re not the same people they were when they formally began their journeys. They’ve been through a lot and today as the Bishop lays hands upon them, invoking the Holy Spirit to make them deacons in God’s Church, a new journey begins.
Their ordination doesn’t elevate them above the laity, it sets them aside.
Not apart from us but alongside…to point out where the church is being called, to encourage us to get up and get out… noticing where the darkness of this world has settled in and bringing the light of Christ into those nooks and crannies of the sidelined, the neglected, the despised and the forgotten. To remind and encourage us to be welcoming when visitors walk through our doors looking for the light.
The role of a deacon in the church isn’t just to proclaim the gospel, but to live the gospel, and to remind us too also.
The role of a deacon isn’t to move beyond their baptism, but to bring us into the fullness of ours.
Robin and Diane, today, by virtue of your baptism into the life, ministry, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ you’re being set aside to do honorable and sacred work; being the voice of the other in this institution we call the church.
Yours is important work, yours is necessary and valuable work.
Know that we enfold you in prayer as we follow you into the margins (even when you have to drag us)
Be of good courage and steadfast faith, for you were baptized and ordained to do this work.
May God bless you and keep you, today and forevermore. Amen.
Epiphany 2 A
Epiphany 2 Yr A Jesus Moments
It’s Epiphany---a season when we notice the manifestation of Christ…the showing of Christ in the world. But when we experience something or someone being truly Christ-like, do we recognize it as a Jesus moment?
Some of these moments, while amazing, aren’t all that surprising to us:
Firefighters running into burning buildings, soldiers drawing enemy fire to save a buddy, police officers walking into who knows what, each time someone dials 911.
These are certainly “Jesus moments” but, it’s easy to brush them off as people doing their jobs.
But then there are those amazing and wholly unexpected scenes when we see Jesus manifested in ordinary people doing extraordinary things:
Sha’ kyra Aughtry and her family, for instance. In the teeth of the Buffalo Blizzard last month, Sha’ kyra saw a figure out her window, a man, hunched over and clearly in pain, trying to walk. She watched him for a bit and it became clear he needed help. Her boyfriend got the man, Joey White, into the house and Sha’Kyra did her best to thaw Joey out and get him help. But… there was no help to be had. 911 couldn’t get there, the National Guard didn’t get there. So Sha’Kyra took to social media and some loving men with a truck navigated got Joey (with Sha’Kyra by his side) to the hospital.
For Joey, Sha’Kyra was Jesus, and to hear Sha’Kyra tell it, Joey was Jesus for her.
Heroes are manifestations of Christ. They embody a Jesus moment.
To manifest Christ is to harness the feelings of unity which occur following a major tragedy like the blizzard, Damar Hamlin’s heart attack, or the attack at Tops when Aaron Salter (the store security guard), seriously wounded and dying, emptied his pistol, a futile act against a body-armor-clad attacker using an assault style weapon, but it bought precious time for others to get to safety. Aaron created a beautiful Jesus moment in the midst of hell on earth being unleashed all around him.
There are lots of opportunities for Jesus Moments in our lives.
When we receive a smile from a stranger on the street, or get a note in the mail or a text on our phone from someone who says they’re thinking about us, or thanking us for something we did; when we stop to listen to a child tell us all about their toy; when we make sure the Blessing Box is full, and the Thrift Store is open for our neighbors…all of these actions manifest Jesus, creating Jesus moments in our world.
Sometimes we’re the recipients of such a moment, other times we’re the giver.
By manifesting Christ in our day-to-day lives, we obliterate the alienation between us. And by obliterating that alienation between us we bridge any remaining gap between us and God.
Did I mention that Sha’Kyra is black and Joey is white? Color didn’t matter, Love did.
It’s all God wants from us—to manifest Jesus: to love, respect and care for one another—not just in moments of great public tragedy or misfortune, but everyday.
And there’s only one way to accomplish this.
By doing it.
This week we celebrate the life and work of Martin Luther King, Jr.
Many communities use the day off from school as a day of, for, and about service. About doing a good deed for others. When two of John’s disciples decided to question Jesus about his ministry, Jesus didn’t regale them with stories about his plan, or about his theology. Jesus simply said, Come and See.
Because Jesus Moments—even the original Jesus moments— are not something to describe, they’re something to experience.
So how do we manifest Christ in our own day? By looking up and out, by noticing those who are on the outside of life, those who don’t fit in, those who need a helping hand, those who have no one to love them.
And then helping them.
It’s as daunting and as simple as that.
Amen.
Epiphany 3a
+While Jesus knew, on some level, that he would eventually take over for John, it seems apparent that Jesus wasn't expecting such an abrupt changing of the guard. I think it caught him by surprise.
“Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested he withdrew to Galilee. He LEFT HIS HOME IN NAZARETH and made his home in Capernaum, by the lake."
After John’s arrest, Jesus pulled up stakes. He went from the dusty workshop of a stone-mason to the water workshop of fishermen. He left his home and began something new. He withdrew from the familiar and went to someplace unfamiliar and in many ways, foreign.
It was his turn. He needed to step up and take the mantel handed to him…but he had to do it differently, he had to learn from John's mistakes, and create something as bold and challenging as John's, but somehow make it more user friendly. John blustered his way through the Jordan valley with sermons of fire and brimstone, baptisms of life risking submersion. People didn't so much engage with John as they watched and listened slack jawed and a bit shocked.
The noticing, realizing, understanding and acting of Jesus, plays out in his response to John's arrest.
Jesus noticed that when John was no longer in the picture, the movement fell apart.
Jesus noticed that it fell apart because it relied wholly on the person of John to work.
He realized that to make his own ministry work he needed to lead in a different way. He understood that he needed to knock down some walls: the walls of expectation regarding how a prophet behaved, the walls of what people thought a messiah would be and do, the walls of home and family, the walls of personality driven movements. He had to break down the walls of expectation and tradition to create something that took all that tradition as a part of the history and move it all into something new.
So he moved to the Lake attracting with love and light and healing instead of fire and brimstone. Teaching more than dictating, engaging in relationships more than wowing with rhetoric.
On some level Jesus understood that his movement needed to be one that was of and in community. That the light of salvation wasn’t his to bestow and others to receive, it was his to share and others to spread.
And it worked. For 2000 years people have been invited to join this movement, they've been attracted to this movement, they've been saved through this movement.
Folks, we’ve been handed a mantel that none of us particularly asked for or even wanted. Decreasing attendance on Sunday morning, XNTY no longer being a valued part of our culture, [an abrupt change in leadership], [loss of our matriarchs and patriarchs]. Did we sign up to lead the church through these times? Were we given the tools we need to manage such drmatic change?
It may not feel like it, but we have been.
Jesus says to Andrew, Peter, John and James: Come and follow me, I’ll show you how to be fishers of people.
Jesus says to you and to me: Come follow me, I'll show you how to be fishers of people.
We have the Good News of God given to us through Jesus Christ. When we follow him, we’re shown the way, when we trust in him and we’ll know the way, then we’ll rest in him, having followed him all the way home.
It's what Jesus encouraged his ragtag band of apostles and disciples to do in Capernaum and it's what he encourages us to do now-- to be of good faith, to trust in the Lord and to know that we’ve been equipped to do this work. We can do igt. You can do it. You are doing it. Thanks be to God.
Amen.
Epiphany 4a
How did Jesus preach to such large crowds?
You can’t hear me if I don’t have the microphone positioned just so and we’re inside. Jesus was outside in the hilly country of the Holy Land.
He wasn’t the booming, yelling type of preacher—how did folks hear him?
Through the miracle of geology.
In the Holy Land I learned that by standing at the entrance to a cave— really any rock overhang will do—- and speaking in a normal voice one can be heard a hundred feet away. I’ve tried it on hikes over the years, with a voice barely above a whisper one can be heard, one’s words spread.
With just a whisper, so much can be heard.
That was the secret sauce of Jesus’ ministry—- he spoke in a regular voice with a message that spread like wildfire. A message that started as not much more than a whisper.
There were other whispers, too; those of the temple authorities, the Pharisees, the Romans, whispering words of hate and spite —anything to undermine Jesus’s message of love and light.
We do that too—we can spread negative, spiteful messages with just a whisper at coffee hour, in the parking lot, at the grocery store…or we can spread positive, hopeful messages of the Love that is Jesus Christ. I pray these are the whispers which spread throughout this community of faith and in our work out in the wider world. That our positive words will be heard and our message will spread.
Of course, the challenge for us is which message will be heard and spread.
It’s easy for us to know which message God longs for us to spread, but doing it is more difficult. Somehow it’s easier to speak the negative and woeful rather than the positive and hopeful; to wallow in our own unhappiness instead of overcoming it and doing for others what we wish would be done unto us. But we are compelled by Jesus and urged by Micah to overcome the desire to wallow and to rise above it and do what we know is the better thing. And how do we know what the better thing is? By understanding that the Beatitudes assure us that we can be the blessed, as long as we do what the Lord requires of us as outlined in the book of Micah:
“to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God”
What does God want from us? To act justly, to be kind and to walk alongside----be in relationship with---God.
And you know what? When we do that—when we act justly, when strive for justice and peace among all people, when we respect the dignity of every human being— we are doing justice. We are loving kindness and we are walking humbly with our God.
What does the Lord require of us? To look outside of ourselves and to consider that what we do unto others should always be nothing less than what we want done unto us. That when Tyre Nichols is beaten to death, we are beaten to death. When people leaving their house of worship are gunned down, we aree gunned down, that when people at a dance club are murdered, we are murdered. That when rhetoric of hate and intolerance fills our political discourse and we don’t say to our leaders enough! We will not let you spew this hate because you sspeak for us and we won;t tolerate it. That when we hear our friends and neighbors speaking hate, spreading untruths,
Amen.
Epiphany 6 a
What does the Lord want from us?
“to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God”
Not just to speak your support of justice but to do justice. What does this mean? That when our neighbors don’t have access to fresh and affordable food, safe and secure neighborhoods, the security to walk home frrom work or school without being beaten to death, then we don’t. That when a grandmother in Ukraine lives in freezing cold weather without electricity, dodging bombs, then we do as well. That when a 1st grader isn;t safe in their own classroom in the United States of America, then we aren’t. That when the husband of a former speaker of the house of rep[resentatives is attacked with a hammer in his own home because the attacker wanted to “kneecap” his wife for her political views, then we are attacked.
What does the Lord require of us? That when we know of injustice happeneing, we rise out of our comnfort zones and stand up and speak out and DO justice.
What does the Lord require of us? To love kindness. To appreciate kindness, to be kindness—at all times and in all things. Is what we are about to say kind? Then say it. If it isn’t, don’t. That doesn;t mean we never express our thoughts and feelings, it means we do it in a constructive and respectful way rather than in a biting, back stabbing, hurtful or explosive way. It means that we choose our words carefully for words are the most powerful weapon known to humankind.
What does the Lord require of us? To walk humbly with your God. If we are truly walking with our God—if we acknowledge taht wherever we go, God is there, right with us, seeing us, hearing us, knowing what is in our hearts—then we are hard pressed to be anything but humble. The trick is remembering that we are always with God, God is always with us. When we say those hurtfdul things, when we let others demean and degrade others without challenging them, when we think all that we are and all that we have is a result of our own efforts and not the grace and blessing of God, we are not walking humbly with our God.
Epiphany 6 a
As I considered the scriptures for this week, I kept thinking about choice. The entire Book of Sirach, which many of you may know from its Latin name, Ecclesiasticus, is a debate about the role of free choice in our lives. The author maintains that “Lady Wisdom” (what we in Christianity have come to call The Holy Spirit), is accessible to us and if we quiet ourselves enough, open our ears to listen, we’ll know what it is we’re being called to do.
It’s easy to confuse the voice of Wisdom with all the other voices at play in our lives: the guilt, the shame, the shoulds….but if we can keep those voices at bay the voice of Holy Wisdom will be heard. And Lady Wisdom tells us the right choice to make—for our circumstance, our time, our destiny.
I kept stepping away from Sirach and tried to dive into the other readings, but they just kept leading me back to this issue of choice, the Book of Sirach, and my old friend, the Austrian Theologian, Karl Rahner.
Rahner, a Jesuit, believed that the goal of every Christian is to see God in all things—from our morning cup of coffee and other tasks of daily living to the tragedies and wonders of the wider world around us. For someone who follows the spiritual exercises of Ignatian we don’t wait for glory to hit us over the head, we seek glory in all things and at all times, we choose to find the glory.
We choose.
Karl Rahner believed (and I know I’ve said this to you before) that every action we take, every choice we make, leads us closer to God or takes us farther away from God.
In our other readings for today we’re faced with the Ten Commandments, the ten best ways to live, the ten guides for keeping us on the right track.
The thing that bugs this Episcopalian about the ten commandments is that because they’re so definitive they’re also easily misinterpreted. The ten commandments are part of Holy Scripture and Holy Scripture is a living document, written in certain times, regarding certain circumstances which need to be translated into our times and our circumstances. For thousands of years rabbinic scholars have interpreted the Old Testament for current times…I use three different biblical commentaries on a regular basis, commentaries designed to interpret the scripture based on current scholarship. I fear that reading the commandments as ten absolute statements taken literally word for word, can be very misleading. It’s true that you should honor your elders, but if your father is beating your mother or your mother is neglecting your baby brother it’s an act of honor to get out of harm’s way and find help for the abusive parent. We shouldn’t murder but does this just mean our individual actions toward another person in our daily life or does it mean we shouldn't support acts of war and terror and abuse funded by our tax dollars?
It’s never black and white is it? And that can be uncomfortable. We want to know what is right, what is wrong, what is good and what is bad, but as we develop our own faith we realize that the answers are often more muddy than clear. They’re not black or white, they’re often grey. They’re not right or wrong, they may be both and…
So what is absolute, what is right?
God. God is. God always is. The trick is to recognize the voice of God, not confusing it with the voice of our culture, our families, our —dare I say it?—church.
Our job, according to Sirach, according to Karl Rahner, according to Jesus, is to choose our actions carefully, “will this choice bring me closer to God or will it distance me from God? What is the Wisdom within me—the Holy Spirit that speaks to me as that still small voice— telling me to do?” What, in my gut, do I know to be the best choice, the holy choice, the God choice? Not the simple choice, not the comfortable choice, but the God choice.
The ten commandments are great guides, but let’s not fall into the trap of reading them literally, for when look at things literally we miss the nuance that is our faith, the nuance that is God as given to us through Jesus Christ and expressed within us as the Holy Spirit.
Before each of us is placed Life and Death, Of God and Not of God, which will we choose?
Amen.
Transfiguration Year A
just before Jesus takes Peter, John and James up the mountain—-where today’s Gospel reading happens—Peter has figured out that Jesus is the Messiah and then —right after his shining star moment—Peter pulls a boneheaded move by yelling at Jesus when Jesus tells his friends that he must turn toward Jerusalem be arrested and sacrificed.
So, contexually, the setting for the trek up the mountian makes sense to me. Jesus has tried and tried to get his followers to realize who he is and even when one of them gets it they just as quickly DON’T get it. So I get that Jesus was ready to turn this whole revelation thing over to his Dad and his dad’s pals, Moses and Elijah.
Have you ever tried to get people to see a situation the way that you do? When something really moves or really bothers you or really confuses you, don’t you want those around you to understand it the way that you do, to “get it” like you do? Well, imagine being the Messiah, the Savior of the world, and those closest to you—-the inner circle of the inner circle—-being too stubborn, too dense, too…whatever….to get it? How lonely Jesus must have been. Sure, he had God and all the prophets and sages who’d come before, but flesh and bones compadres, friends? He had the boys I’ve already mentioned, his mother and Mary Magdalene. But he couldn’t stroll around town with Mary Magdalene, he couldn’t have her be part of his public inner circle—-that was a step too far for this man who was pushing the limits of ancient culture far enough—-so he takes his closest male friends and up the moiuntain they go.
What was Jesus looking for —some peaceful time to pray? Or did he know that when he went up the mountain his God—our God—-would do something stupendous, outrageous, amazing, transformative, transfiguring?
I don’t know, but I do think it’s safe to assume that he was getting away from things and that it was important to him that Peter, James and John tagged along.
Maybe he thought that they’d catch on: Moutnaintop, bright shining skin—-, Moses, Elijah, THE VOICE OF GOD. Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted company…maybe the truth of what was about to happen was a bit too much for Jesus to take and the human part of him was frightened and he just wanted his friends there to lean on.
Most people—myself included—preach this gospel as an indictment against Peter (because Peter is so easy to indict) but as I really sat with the story this week I kept thinking about where Jesus was in his journey and where we are in ours.
He’s already annouced that when they come down they’re heading toward Jerusalem.
This Wednesday, we’ll turn our own selves toward Jerusalem, spending 40 days readying ourselves for what’s to come. We’ll prepare ourselves through a Holy Lent, a time for fasting from the extremes of daily life, from hatred and intolerance, from coveting what others have, from doubt and despair.
In Lent we study and reflect—we may study scripture, prayer or how to be the church in the modern world; we may reflect on how our lives can be more God-focused. We may even fast from worry and feast on faith. We do what we need to do to walk with Jesus through those last few days of betrayal and fear, of pain and loss, of realizing that we must die before being reborn, we must surrender before we can acquire, we must walk in darkness before we can embrace the light.
Jesus didn’t know exactly what was coming, but he did know it was going to challenge everything he knew and everyone he loved. We aren’t faced with such a dire future, but if we commit to observing a Holy Lent, we will be with Jesus as he takes this journey and, if we let it happen within us, we, too, may find our faith transfigured and our acceptance of Christ’s love, enhanced. So let’s climb down thhe mountain of Epiphany and walk the walk of a faith that demands much of us, but gives us more than we can ever ask or imagine. Amen.
Lent 1a
How many of us remember when our kids, grandkids, nieces and nephews were pre-school age and becoming fiercely independent---what I remember as the “I CAN DO IT MYSELF” stage. Of course for young kids, this is an expected part of development that we grow out of…to a point. You see, one of the frustrations I think God has with us, is our unrelenting belief that WE CAN DO IT OURSELVES. It’s a deep-seated human trait that plays a big part in today’s readings.
In Genesis, Adam and Eve are wooed by the serpent’s tempting words, and as a result they unleash a desire for more power and independence.
In Romans, Paul describes Adam as the carrier and unleasher of the disease called sin and Jesus as a sort of vaccine against it.
Sin is a disease and Jesus is the antidote. I love that!
In today’s gospel the devil tries to lure Jesus into giving into the very human temptation for more power and glory, but Jesus doesn't succumb.
Now it’s easy to brush this off as Jesus’ divinity, outweighing His humanity. That He saw the devil’s tricks and didn’t fall for them. But, I think to assume this is insulting to Jesus the man.
Jesus didn’t give into the temptation because he didn’t feel it---he felt it as powerfully as any of us would--- but because he was strong enough, open enough, trusting enough, to not give in. Giving in would be to deny God’s love and Jesus --both in his humanity and his divinity-- wouldn’t do that.
Jesus was human in every way, except he didn't sin.
Now for a lot of us sin is a tough word, but understand it as God does-- not us being “bad” but us being stubborn and child like. To sin is to forget God, to turn away from God, to insist that we can do it ourselves!
From the wilderness to the cross, in the most desperate times imaginable, Jesus never turned away from God. He never shut God out.
We, on the other-hand, shut God out all the time. When we stop making space for God to work within us and through us, we're shutting God out, refusing God's help, leaving us frustrated, lost, lonely and empty.
And that's when we get into trouble.
Because, in our I CAN DO IT MYSELF mentality of forgetting God and forging ahead on our own, we distance ourselves; leaving an ever-widening chasm between us and God. The pain of this chasm is so intense we seek to bridge it, to fill it with all sorts of things. Things to distract us from the pervasive sense of loneliness that living without God brings into our souls.
These distractions block God—which is the benefit of Lenten fasts.
The goal of a fast isn’t to make us miserable, the goal is to get us quiet enough, focused enough, open enough to notice God, trust God and invite God in.
By fasting from earthly distraction: from clutter and filler we come face to face with a holy emptiness. An emptiness, a void that allows God the palate, the clean slate, the welcoming soul God uses to do wondrous things with us, God’s beloved children.
So I encourage you to spend these forty days getting really needy. Not needy for the stuff of this world, not distracted by the wants of our temporal life, but needy for, longing for, a Divine and Holy filler, a Loving presence.
When we empty ourselves of distraction, clutter and filler we’ll discover something truly amazing: that empty space deep within us, that chasm of loneliness, anxiety and fear which we strive to fill with everything but God? It will be filled to overflowing by a God who, in spite of our limit-testing, in spite of our stubborn cries of “I CAN DO IT MYSELF;” is always ready to enter our lives as soon as we slow down enough to offer the invitation.
Amen.
Lent 2a
As I considered the scriptures for this week, I kept thinking about choice. The entire Book of Sirach, which many of you may know from its Latin name, Ecclesiasticus, is a debate about the role of free choice in our lives. The author maintains that “Lady Wisdom” (what we in Christianity have come to call The Holy Spirit), is accessible to us and if we quiet ourselves enough, open our ears to listen, we’ll know what it is we’re being called to do.
It’s easy to confuse the voice of Wisdom with all the other voices at play in our lives: the guilt, the shame, the shoulds….but if we can keep those voices at bay the voice of Holy Wisdom will be heard. And Lady Wisdom tells us the right choice to make—for our circumstance, our time, our destiny.
I kept stepping away from Sirach and tried to dive into the other readings, but they just kept leading me back to this issue of choice, the Book of Sirach, and my old friend, the Austrian Theologian, Karl Rahner.
Rahner, a Jesuit, believed that the goal of every Christian is to see God in all things—from our morning cup of coffee and other tasks of daily living to the tragedies and wonders of the wider world around us. For someone who follows the spiritual exercises of Ignatian we don’t wait for glory to hit us over the head, we seek glory in all things and at all times, we choose to find the glory.
We choose.
Karl Rahner believed (and I know I’ve said this to you before) that every action we take, every choice we make, leads us closer to God or takes us farther away from God.
In our other readings for today we’re faced with the Ten Commandments, the ten best ways to live, the ten guides for keeping us on the right track.
The thing that bugs this Episcopalian about the ten commandments is that because they’re so definitive they’re also easily misinterpreted. The ten commandments are part of Holy Scripture and Holy Scripture is a living document, written in certain times, regarding certain circumstances which need to be translated into our times and our circumstances. For thousands of years rabbinic scholars have interpreted the Old Testament for current times…I use three different biblical commentaries on a regular basis, commentaries designed to interpret the scripture based on current scholarship. I fear that reading the commandments as ten absolute statements taken literally word for word, can be very misleading. It’s true that you should honor your elders, but if your father is beating your mother or your mother is neglecting your baby brother it’s an act of honor to get out of harm’s way and find help for the abusive parent. We shouldn’t murder but does this just mean our individual actions toward another person in our daily life or does it mean we shouldn't support acts of war and terror and abuse funded by our tax dollars?
It’s never black and white is it? And that can be uncomfortable. We want to know what is right, what is wrong, what is good and what is bad, but as we develop our own faith we realize that the answers are often more muddy than clear. They’re not black or white, they’re often grey. They’re not right or wrong, they may be both and…
So what is absolute, what is right?
God. God is. God always is. The trick is to recognize the voice of God, not confusing it with the voice of our culture, our families, our —dare I say it?—church.
Our job, according to Sirach, according to Karl Rahner, according to Jesus, is to choose our actions carefully, “will this choice bring me closer to God or will it distance me from God? What is the Wisdom within me—the Holy Spirit that speaks to me as that still small voice— telling me to do?” What, in my gut, do I know to be the best choice, the holy choice, the God choice? Not the simple choice, not the comfortable choice, but the God choice.
The ten commandments are great guides, but let’s not fall into the trap of reading them literally, for when look at things literally we miss the nuance that is our faith, the nuance that is God as given to us through Jesus Christ and expressed within us as the Holy Spirit.
Before each of us is placed Life and Death, Of God and Not of God, which will we choose?
Amen.
Lent 3a
+For generations biblical scholars have labeled the Samaritan woman a harlot. Even the modern-day commentators who laud her as the evangelist she truly was— after all, she converted an entire city—still make reference to her being immoral. Her village shunned and mocked her. Truth is, all we know is she’d been married 5 times was currently unmarried and was living with some man, probably her deceased husband’s brother. We know that things were bad enough for her that she’d traveled to the well in the blistering heat of mid-day, no doubt to avoid the stares and whispers of the other villagers. Hers was not an easy life.
Jesus is traveling just after his encounter with Nicodemus—the man who came to see Jesus in the dead of night—not because he had insomnia, but because he was afraid of being seen.
The shortest route to Galilee goes through Samaritan territory but most Jews took a longer route, avoiding any encounter with a Samaritan. You see, generations earlier the Jews of Samaria had contaminated themselves through inter-marriage with Gentiles. In the Jewish world of Jesus’ day, a Samaritan was as ritually unclean as they get.
But Jesus, maybe because he was in a hurry, maybe because he never met a boundary or a bigotry or a hatred he could let stand, walked smack dab into the Samaritan territory. Tired, he stops to rest at the iconic Jacob’s well—a place of great significance in the Hebrew scriptural tradition--- while the others went off in search of food.
John wants to makes sure we get the significance of it being noon—when no one in their right mind would be trekking to the well to draw water—the lack of shadows at noon leave no place to hide, no shadow in which one may keep from being seen. John wants us to notice this juxtaposition between Nicodemus and The Woman at the Well who has no need to hide in the dark, for everyone knows who she is. She needs water and so, in the heat of midday she goes, bucket in hand…maybe to lessen encountering others, maybe as an act of defiance against those who ridiculed and reviled her. We don’t know.
As he encounters the woman, Jesus engages her in conversation and, astonishing for that day, age and circumstance, the Samaritan Woman at the Well answers….questions…and debates!
Amazing as this may seem, it’s not the most incredible part of the story.
The most incredible, astonishing and miraculous thing in this story is that this woman gets it. She listens to Jesus and she hears. She watches Jesus and she sees. She allows herself to be transformed by Jesus and ---dropping her water jug much like Andrew and Peter did their fishing nets --the Samaritan woman heads back to her village proclaiming that she’s just encountered The Messiah.
Now remember, this woman has been shunned by everyone— yet her transformation, her rebirth—- is so evident that the villagers listen to her, and then seek out Jesus because… they too are thirsty.
Much like the heroes of Hebrew scripture, Miriam, Ruth, Esther and Judith and like Mary, the mother of Jesus, our Woman at the Well was a prophet, disciple, evangelist and preacher.
She proved a worthy sparring partner for Jesus as she questioned the wisdom of he who desired a drink yet had no cup, he who claimed to be holy, yet trod on the unclean soil of Samaria and he who, against all common sense, good breeding and religious observance, engaged in a lengthy dialogue with an unaccompanied woman, not because she needed to be healed, saved or rebuked, but because she was willing to be transformed.
She was willing to fill herself with all that Jesus promised, drinking his Sacred Water, eating his Holy Food —absorbing all she could until she overflowed with truth and light.
Aren’t we thirsty? Don’t we long for transformation? Don’t we hunger for a way forward that is in and of Love? We can learn so much from the Woman at the Well: to be open and willing; to question and listen; to wonder and believe, to thirst and drink, to be transformed and then, just like this hero of faith, go to others who thirst, or hunger, or struggle, and say, “we’ve found the way home, follow us as we follow Him.” Amen
Lent 4a
+Theologian Rick Morley refers to the story of the Man Blind since birth as the "Dirt n' spit n' love Gospel." Being Christian is far from neat and tidy. It's a messy business following this Savior of ours, who got down in the dirt and the spit of life in order to show that everyone, everywhere, forever, is loved.
Ours is a very real, accessible, dirty, messy, and muddy faith.
That’s been the message these past few Sundays, that without the dirt ‘n spit ‘n love of God as given to us through Jesus Christ, we don’t live, we simply exist; our eyes may be open but we don’t really see; we may hear the noise, but never listen to the message. That without the dirt ‘n spit ‘n love of God our thirst—no matter how much we drink-- will never be quenched.
Today, John continues this message with the story of the blind man who’s healed on the Sabbath.
Jesus sees the blind man, he notices him. The man isn’t asking for healing, he isn’t, as far as we know, drawing any attention to himself. Nothing we read today tells us that this man, in any way, was seeking Jesus out. All we know is that Jesus, realizing it’s a healing moment… a teaching moment … a ministry moment, takes action-- regardless of the fact that it’s the Sabbath. There’s healing to do and love to spread, and Jesus didn't care what day it was.
Now Jesus could have healed the man without the mud and the washing ……all he needed to do was say the word and the man would have been healed…..but for Jesus, it wasn't about the healing of one, it's about the healing of all. And so Jesus and his companions stop.
The disciples immediately step in it by asking a numbskull question about whose sin caused this man’s blindness---as if any of us deserve to be blind, or deaf, or disabled in any way! Instead of rebuking them directly for assuming that God is some sort of spiteful hateful Deity—Jesus says, “watch, listen, and learn. What I'll do for this man I'll do for everyone. "
Through the love of God, as given to us in Jesus Christ, all of us will be cured of blindness, all of us who are lost will be found, and all of us who are thirsty will be quenched with living water. All of us who feel unlovable will, indeed, be loved.
So Jesus prepares his healing paste, with dirt ‘n spit ‘n love, slathers it on the man's eyes and lo and behold, after a quick wash, the man can see!! Of course, the dirt didn’t heal him. It wasn’t the mud, it wasn’t even Jesus’ touch, or the man’s desire ….it was something else.
Something unquantifiable and indescribable.
And for Jesus, that’s the point—it’s not about practicing religion in a certain "right way." It’s not about crossing the t's of our faith and dotting the "i's". It's about moving from simple belief to deep knowing. It’s about that shift from simply professing faith to living it: lock, stock and barrel.
That transition, this transformation requires something more than dirt, spit and love. It requires grace. Amazing, miraculous and incredible Grace.
Grace has been coursing through our readings these past few weeks. An amazing, limitless, grace.
It’s what gave Nicodemus the courage to go and see Jesus, it’s what gave the woman at the well a voice to be heard, a strength to convert those who once shunned her. It’s what caused Jesus to see the blind man, it’s what carried the man to the pool to be washed free of darkness, to be bathed in light.
It’s what makes all first responders go toward disaster while everyone else runs from it.
It’s what allows us to forgive those who’ve hurt us so deeply, it’s what compels us to reach to out to those with less, it’s what peaks the longing we feel for justice, what makes us fight for causes others have long forgotten, what keeps you working to make this church—your church…Holy Apostles’—a place of healing and hope for all who enter.
It’s what makes us be better people than we ever thought we could be.
Grace takes us from blindness to sight, from wretchedness to worthiness, from darkness to light, from lost to found.
The work of God, the work of Jesus, is full of the dirt ‘n spit ‘n love that leads us to a grace that, when we believe, trust and embrace it, always leads us home.
Amen.
Lent 5a
Lazarus Laughed.
That’s the title of a play written by Eugene O’Neill: It’s the playwright’s thoughts about what Lazarus did upon his rising from the dead. And the first thing Lazarus does after leaving the tomb? Laugh.
My nephew, John couldn’t speak. But he could REALLY laugh. He had this deep down, belly laugh that shook his entire body.. No one could resist that laugh when he got going. It was infectious.
People suffering from depression have a hard time laughing. The trigger in the brain which causes laughter is broken, so laughter doesn’t come easily, if at all.
Can you imagine that? Not being able to laugh?
Of course, there’s laughter in the Bible, Sarah laughed when she heard God tell Abraham that at 90 years old she would have a baby.
Absurd! Ridiculous! No wonder Sarah laughed..Surely, God laughed too…after all it was outrageous for a baby to be born in such a circumstance. It was comical, so Sarah laughed.
In the play, all Lazarus does for the first day or so after resurrection is laugh.
When he finally speaks Lazarus explains that in heaven all you hear is God’s wonderful laugh.
Lazarus has been to the other side and what he saw there was a life full of laughter.
Nothing else, just eternal life and laughter.
In the play, Lazarus exclaims:
Laugh! Laugh with me! Death is dead! Fear is no more! There’s only life! There’s only laughter!
Yes, Lazarus laughed.
But Jesus? He wept.
As Jesus saw the sadness of those who loved Lazarus, he was overcome with sorrow. Was it remorse for being late, for not being able to save his friend?
Or was it sadness at the lack of faith displayed by Mary and Martha, frustrated that even his closest friends didn’t get that he was there to defeat death forever, that with him, life never ends, it just changes. But, they didn’t get it.
I think this story is telling us to die.
We must die to death.
Jesus wept because that’s what we don’t get. We don’t get that dying is just another step toward the full glory of God.
At baptism, we’re figuratively plunged into the depths of a “life without living,” of an existence marred by sin and sorrow and regret." At Easter when new Christians across the world emerge from those baptismal waters and are sealed as Christ’s own forever they’re alive in a new way. Christians die to the old way and are born into the new.
When we gather as community for worship we must let go of our fears, making room for the love of community to fill us. Here in this community, here at this altar, we let go of this world and are transformed into the new world of everlasting life.
When Jesus told Lazarus to come out of the tomb, Lazarus had died to all that dragged him down and was born anew to an everlasting life full of indescribable happiness. He was born anew to a life full of eternal love.
So…He Laughed.
This is what we’re called to do in this community, at home and at the grocery store. We’re called to die to all the petty jealousy, the fear of each other, the old hurts and resentments, because nothing, not death, not dry bones, not doubt and not despair is enough to keep us from the giggling, chuckling never-ending love and laughter of God. That’s why Lazarus laughed and why we should too: for the joy of a new life in Christ is contagious, infectious and absolutely necessary to our the health of our lives of faith. So join me, especially in these next two weeks, as we learn that fear and death are the things of this world and when we follow Jesus to the garden, into jail and finally high atop that cross we will encounter the God who wipes away fear and defeats death, laughing and loving us, for all eternity. AMEN
Palm/Passion
This is a day full of contrasts. It’s also a day full of words. John and I read the Passion in two voices because I really wanted you all to hear it, not worry about when your line was coming up or where you shuld stand etc. I wanted you to receive this story deep in your heart
In many ways, Holy Week is the one week of the church year when your clergy and staff offer services to you and for you. Holy Week is that important.
It can be a difficult week as we confront the ever so real underbelly of what it is to be human——played out in intense technicolor truth:
God came to be among us, in the person of Jesus Christ, to experience the absolute totality of human existence—from the vulnerability of infancy, to the depths of despair in Gethsemene and to the passage from death and degradation into eternal life. Jesus came to walk this walk and to blaze the trail of our penultimate mortal journey—moving from death into eternal life..
From Christmas Eve and a babe in a manger, to the ministry and now to his final walk through the streets of Jerusalem, we’re invited into the completion of his incarnation into human form.
Jesus of Nazareth came to be among us fully…And we need to be with him fully as well. That means shouting “Hosanna” and accepting that we also shout “Crucify Him.” It means saying we’ll never abandon him and then falling asleep. It means saying we’ll follow him to his death and then proclaiming, “I don’t know the man.” It means begging him to bring us into his kingdom and realizing that he will, in spite of anything we’ve done or left undone.
Our job, as best as we can fulfill it, is to walk the walk of Jesus with him, knowing that there’s no darkness, pain, abandonment or terror that we experience that our Lord and Savior hasn’t experienced as well.
For God so loved the world God came to be among us in the person of Jesus of Nazareth so that neither we nor he need ever be alone.
Amen.
Holy Saturday
On this day of absence we learn the depth of God’s presence.
Today, as Jesus lay among the dead, we know in our souls that his descent into death means that our own deaths will not be endings, but rather entries into the fullness of life.
Yet, in spite of this sure and certain promise of our faith,
when we experience the death of a beloved,
when they have entered the fullness and we are still here, in our emptiness, our hearts break and our souls lament.
Today we, just like the first followers of Jesus, are broken
-hearted.
It is human nature to rush through the brokenness and into the fullness of what we know comes next.
I urge you not to hurry.
Sit and wait.
Sit and wonder.
Sit and weep.
Sit and pray.
The darkness of grief may seem too much to bear, but I promise you, it will not overtake you; for in this grief, God dwells.
So my friends, my siblings in Christ, on this Holy Saturday of quiet I invite you to linger for awhile, to experience the absence in whatever way it comes to you— do not reject what comes, just be in it.
For it is through this emptiness, this absence, this brokenness that God fills each of us anew.
Easter Sunday
He is Not Here—Do Not Be Afraid Easter Sunday 2023
Jeremiah, Colossians, Matthew
I remember at my nephew John’s funeral…I kept staring at the urn, completely stunned and horrified at his physical absence. I hated what the urn represented— his death—but couldn’t stop from staring. Then I remembered this line from Matthew’s Gospel: “”He is not here, for he has been raised.”
I had to keep saying to myself, “John is not here— he is now in the fullness of life.”
I’d like to tell you that it was such an astounding realization that I felt fine and didn’t shed another tear. Of course that isn’t true—my eyes went back to the urn, the tears flowed then and flow still, but the realization wasn’t for naught because although I wish he were still here in the old familiar way, I know---and I mean I know this down to my toes— that he is in the fullness of a life I can only imagine. Knowing that he is better than he could have ever been on earth doesn’t remove the pain, but it gives the pain a companion, a companion of a certain joy, which tempers the grief.
Why do I bring this up on this Happy Morning? Because while this is indeed a Happy Morning the full impact of just how happy, just how joyous, just how miraculous the resurrection of Jesus is, won’t be fully understand until we too pass-over to the new life of resurrection---BUT by recalling the pain humanity caused during the first Holy Week, I hope we can more fully appreciate just how miraculous Jesus the man, Jesus the resurrected one is.
For even though we denied and deserted him, even though we betrayed him, even though we shouted “crucify him,” the joy of eternal life is such that all of that is forgiven.
We are forgiven.
Always and forever. That my friends? Is a miracle.
However you find yourself here this morning, you are welcomed into the joy that is resurrection life.
My friends, Do Not Be Afraid.
Do Not Be Afraid that you aren’t worthy of this joy. Do not be afraid that you cannot live up to the expectations of a Christ-Centered life…I mean…look at the disciples!
Do Not Be Afraid that you have nothing to give in the persistent push to bring the kingdom of God to reign here in earth.
You have plenty to give, you have plenty to offer because our God loves us so much that there is nothing too deep, too broad, too tall, too awful to keep that love from us.
God told Jeremiah: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.” Think of how we’ve disappointed God over time, think of how we continue to do so. And yet, and still, God Loves Us. Do not be afraid, for life doesn’t end in a heap of ash or in a box buried in the ground, life is everlasting, life is eternal, life is one big joyous family reunion with all the saints, including you and me. All of us are part of that reunion.
He’s not on that cross, nor is he in that tomb; he lives right here and right now, within us, between us, and through us. All of us. All we need to do is notice, accept and receive.
This Jesus of Nazareth, crucified, died, buried and risen is not beyond our reach, so let’s not make ourselves beyond his.
Do not be afraid to accept the love of God; allow it to wash you clean, allow it to free you from the chains that bind you, allow it to take up residence in your soul and then, just as the angel told the women, go and tell.
Go and tell, for Jesus Christ is Risen today, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia. Amen!
Easter 2a
The night of the Resurrection many of the disciples are gathered behind locked doors. John tells us they’re hiding from the religious authorities and while I’m sure that’s part of the reason, I wonder who else they’re hiding from?
Are they hiding from the women the ones to whom the resurrection was revealed? The women were scared and in danger, but they stayed on Friday and they went on Sunday while the guys fled and hid.
Perhaps they’d locked the doors to hide from Jesus. Perhaps the disciples did believe the reports of the women from the morning and if Jesus was indeed alive, how could they ever face him, how mad will Jesus be? Once again (still?) the disciples don’t get it—they figure Jesus is just like them and that he’ll be furious and unforgiving instead of loving and forgiving.
Or are they only hiding from the authorities, men who were blood thirsty to rid the world of this so-called blasphemer whom they feared so much?
I get it, once the bloodthirsty get their taste of blood they generally want more and more…so the disciples had good reason to be afraid. And to hide.
But maybe, just maybe there’s another option. Perhaps instead of only hiding from the women, and/or Jesus, and/or the authorities maybe the disciples were fooling themselves. Perhaps they were hiding from the one they couldn’t hide from, the one none of us can hide from—ourselves.
It begs the question for me—where are our locked doors: from whom, from what are we hiding? Are we, like the disciples, hiding from ourselves, afraid to take whatever that next step is? Afraid to move into the what’s next of our lives? And are we taking that insecurity and that worry deep within ourselves, behind the locked doors of our relationships, thinking that no one can help, or that no one can know or that if we deny it enough it will somehow go away?
Maybe we’re locking our doors from God, refusing to accept that no matter what, God’s love isn’t variable. It’s steadfast, sure and always right here, right now. I think, when we lock our doors from everyone and everything in our world, convinced that our challenges are too much to share, our burdens too heavy to turn over to someone else, we lock ourselves away from the always reaching out arms of our loving God, a God who came to us as Jesus and who, even though we couldn’t accept all that Jesus had to offer, reaches out still, longing for those doors to unlock and open wide.
Perhaps you’re like Peter, so deeply in full belief of the Messiah that you sink under the pressure of all that love, denying the love you feel in return because it is just so intense.
Perhaps you’re Mary , holding onto the feet of Love, afraid it will leave you again even though it actually never left, it just changed.
Perhaps you’re John, so determined to be the beloved one that you collapse under the self-imposed expectation that if he dies, you’ll die. And then being so paralyzed by fear and grief all you can do is watch the one you love so much die on that tree.
Perhaps you’re Mary the mother, so heartbroken and yet still committed to that yes you gave God all those years ago that you freely let your heart be pierced because saying no or stop or never is just not in your vocabulary.
Or perhaps you’re Thomas, so distraught that when told He is Alive you refuse to believe, not because you doubt but because you believe so truly that you cannot afford to be teased into false belief, needing to see it, touch it and hear for yourself that your Lord and Your God does indeed, live.
Whomever you are, however you deal with the disappointments, failures, worries, sadness or confusion of your life, this Risen Lord comes to you in a variety of ways, longing to find the key to unlock your heart so that he may enter it and never leave.
My friends, He is Alive in you and in me, let us rejoice and be glad in it. Amen and Alleluia!
Easter 3 a
Our two travelers on the Road to Emmaus believed a lot. They were disciples of Jesus and like many of Jesus’s disciples they had a clear creed they held dear. They believed that Jesus was the promised Messiah. Messiah is a very specific concept in Judaism, the Messiah would oversee the ingathering of the exiles; the restoration of the religious courts of justice; an end of wickedness, sin and heresy; reward to the righteous; rebuilding of Jerusalem; and the restoration of the line of King David. The Messiah would accomplish all of that. The messiah would not allow himself to be arrested beaten mocked and executed.
The travelers tell this stranger who walked among them that they’d hoped Jesus would have been the one to redeem Israel, that Jesus would have been the promised Messiah.
It’s what they believed, it’s what they expected, but it’s not what Jesus delivered. So, as they walk along, they’re disappointed, disheartened, disillusioned, sad and even a little angry.
Jesus, as we walked with them, was probably disappointed, frustrated and angry that these disciples of His were still seeing through a glass darkly, oblivious to the reality of resurrection, blocked from the realization that death, darkness and all forces of evil had been defeated—beaten at their own game. And so he begins to teach them, beginning with Moses and heading right through all the prophets leading up to Jesus himself. He talks, lectures, teaches. And he waits for them to…
Notice….
to
Accept….
to
Know….
This is our Easter story—we experience the Risen Christ and then we notice Him. We experience Resurrection and then we know it.
We take, we break, we eat and then we DO.
This is the story of us, an Easter People.
Knowing the Easter story is so much more potent than just believing the Easter story. But it’s easy to relate to our Emmaus travelers isn’t? Life doesn’t turn out the way we think it will, our prayers are not always answered how we want them to be abswered. We may experience that as the prayers NOT being answered, but days later, months later, years later, a lifetime later we may realize that not only was our prayer answered, it was anaswered in the absolute right way.
We may look around the church and we can say—-“this placed used to be full, what are we doing wrong?” But have you ever considered that this may be how it’s supposed to be? I mean, if Jesus really wanted this church full couldn’t he make it happen? Wouldn’t he give us the answer to make it so? Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be….instead of lamenting why don’t we allow our eyes to be opened, our hearts to be lit on fire and go out into the world not just BELIEVING the Easter story but knowing it, being it, LIVING it. We expect Christianity to be one thing, but maybe Jesus is leading us to what it is suppossed to be. We can;t just believe the Easter story, we have to be it.
Jesus, through his Resurrection appearances—to Mary Magdalene, to Thomas and today to our Emmaus travelers -- takes what’s always been expected and turns it into something completely new. All Jesus wants us to do is move from simple belief to incredible, astounding and miraculous knowing.
Because:
• Believing the Easter story doesn’t change the systems of poverty that keep the poor poor and the rich, rich. Living the Easter story, knowing the Easter story, Being the Easter story does.
• Believing the Easter story doesn’t take assault weapons off of our streets, out of our schools and away from those who wish others harm. Living the Easter story, knowing the Easter story, Being the Easter story does.
• Believing the Easter story doesn’t give the elderly, the LBGTQI community, refugees and prisoners the respect and dignity they deserve. Living the Easter story, knowing the Easter story, Being the Easter story does.
Believing the Easter story doesn’t feed the hungry; clothe the naked or stop injustice. Living the Easter story, knowing the Easter story, Being the Easter story does.
If we do that, when we do that, the Kingdom of God will reign here on earth. And that, my friends, is the point of this, our Easter story.
Amen and Alleulia.
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