Yes we will All Die All Saints 2024
All Saints Day is a great day for a baptism, and even though we don’t have any today, I’ve thought about baptism a lot this week.
I know a number of you were raised Roman Catholic and while I wasn’t I did grow up in a predominantly Roman Catholic village and I remember friends on the playground talking about the horrible fate awaiting those who were not baptized. Later I learned that the unbaptized, according to Roman Catholic doctrine, weren’t destined to be tortured in some eternal damnation as my classmates implied, but were stuck in “limbo.”
Limbo was this place of “not yet,” you weren’t in heaven and you weren’t in hell. Limbo was, if I’m not mistaken, a place where the unbaptized were destined to spend eternity. But in the language of the playground where kids always try to determine who is “in” and who is “out,” this not being baptized thing was definitely a ticket to some type of hell.
It confused me because I grew up as an Episcopalian and, from a very young age, I was taught that no one— NO ONE— created by God is hated or rejected by God. NO ONE.
I’m not sure any of my playground friends believed me.
I hope you do.
There’s no such thing as eternal darkness. There’s no such thing as eternal damnation. There’s no such thing as a hateful God.
And do you want to know how I know this?
Because Jesus defeated death. He DEFEATED death. Completely, utterly, forever.
Do you believe this? Do you?
It’s right there in today’s reading from Revelation: “Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”
The first things have passed away because Jesus came into the world and made everything and everyone new.
In today’s Gospel we hear about the raising of Lazarus. Jesus says, “Unbind him and let him go.” This is what God says to each of us when we die—-“you are now unbound, you can let go now.”
Death had no hold over Lazarus.
Lazarus’s death and coming back to life was a precursor to all that was going to happen in Jerusalem—-betrayal, a farce of a trial, imprisonment and death by crucifixion.
Lazarus’s death seemed like the end.
Mary said as such…” If you had been here my brother wouldn’t have died.” And how does Jesus respond?
He brings Lazarus back to life.
He defeats the death of Lazarus by giving him life. And then he does it for all of us through his own death and resurrection. Not only did he defeat the death of Lazarus and his own death. He defeated it for us all.
Yes we will die. And no we won’t.
Yes we will die to this life and that will be sad.
But our life doesn’t end, it is changed and we live in our new form of being forever.
So for those of you who fear death I say—unbind yourself, let it go.
You are free because Jesus defeated the fear and darkness of death once and for all, so we all may take our place in the company of saints in all their glory.
We take our place in heaven not because of what we did or did not do but because of how we were created and by whom we were created.
And for that we sing a Song of the Saints of God, remembering all those who fought the good fight, ran the length of the race and now soar through the heavens, free and joyous, for all time.
And I mean to be one of them too. Amen.
PROPER 27B
In the reading sweepstakes today, the widows win!
In Kings, we hear about this widow mother in Zarapath who forsakes her family’s last meal for the prophet who tells her that God has her and her son in those almighty hands, so not to worry but to follow his instructions. It worked. He ate, they ate, and it never ran out.
In Mark, the widow with two coins intentionally places a seemingly meager offering into the temple’s bank account while others somewhat distractedly tossed in an offering out of their abundance.
One widow exhibits trust in something seemingly unknowable while the other widow intentionally gives of herself to a religious institution designed to keep her on the outside, looking in. Does one have blind faith, and the other blind obedience?
What are we to learn from this?
Well simply put, faith is great—having faith in God is the point isn’t it? But blind faith? Blind faith is misplaced. Did the widow in Kings have blind faith or did she figure, “heck my son and I are going to die anyway, so if this so-called prophet wants the last of my food, ok.” Whether it’s out of faith, or whether it’s out of despair—-she gives the last of what was hers to him. The key to this story isn’t how the widow felt about the prophet its about what the prophet did with what the widow offered. She gave him everything she had, and then he gave her enough for always.
In our Gospel, Jesus was watching Jewish people pay their tax to the temple. Now this isn’t to be confused with the tax to the emperor—they had to pay that too, but this tax was laid on them by their own people. They owed everyone.
The wealthier tossed their offering in the coffer without giving it a thought. I doubt there was any sense of fulfilling a sacred obligation , it was more a part of daily life.
But for the widow it was everything. I doubt the empire or the temple had done much for the widow, but she gave out of her poverty not because she had to but because she knew she should. She played within the rules of the day, didn’t try to get something for nothing.
Why did she do it?
Well, my guess is she did it because it was an expression faith, faith that so far hadn’t given her much in the way of creature comforts, but clearly she knew that all that she had wasn’t hers, but God’s. And so she gave.
Jesus was there. Jesus noticed. And Jesus was moved.
And God was within the prophet and noticed what the widow of Zarepath did. Her oil and flour never ran out. God kept her fed.
So what do we take away for ourselves in November, 2024?
Simple.
What’s important is that we accept that we will attend to our obligations as people of faith in the way we find appropriate and right. God watches us, Jesus notices and the responsibility we bear to each other ( in my opinion) is this:
to believe passionately, to fulfill our obligations with dignity, and to remember and be buoyed by the fact that our oil may be depleted but it will not run out and that our two coins, no matter how meager they seem to others, means the world to Jesus.
Because what our faith teaches is that: we do what we can with what we can in the best way we can for as long as we can. [forgive me, John Wesley]
Our love for God is expressed in many ways and God’s love for us as God’s beloved is expressed in many ways—let’s continue to live our lives and our faith in and through that gratitude. Let’s keep working toward what God is calling us to do. Amen
[end for St James below]
We have completed our stewardship campaign and have surpassed our goals. Both in number of pledging units and in amount pledged— why—- because we all love this place and we all love our God. And we are banking our abundance on it. Let’s keep going. Amen
REBUILDING OURSELVES Proper 28B
+Last week and this week’s gospels are set inside and just outside the Temple. In the days of Jesus the Temple in Jerusalem was the most magnificent structure anyone had ever seen. Some of the stones were 40 ft. long…. JUST ONE STONE. Most of the western wall, plus some of the northern wall, from a later incarnation of the temple, still exists today. Even these remnants, small in comparison to what the disciples are marveling at in today’s Gospel, are pretty impressive. It’s an amazing and formidable place. To the disciples--- fishermen, tentmakers and stonemasons from rural Galilee--- it must have seemed equally incredible.
But it wasn’t just the sight of the Temple that blew them away, it was Jesus’ outlandish claim that it would be toppled, that those 40 ft. long stones would be destroyed. It was a ludicrous thought!
Now, remember, this part of the Gospel comes toward the end of Jesus’ earthly life…it was early in Holy Week, probably Monday or Tuesday…Jesus’ description of the temple falling as a foreshadowing of his death wasn’t some “long in the future prediction”…it was happening… soon!
Today’s Gospel was written through the lens of Holy Week yet we read it through the lens of Advent.
Welcome to Advent, my friends. You see Advent isn’t about 24/7 Christmas music on the radio, or making your list and checking it twice, Advent is all about a beginning emerging out of an ending, it’s about a new creation, it’s about turning what we know inside out and upside down. Advent is about new birth.
And giving birth isn’t pretty. It involves ebbs and flows of pain, fear, hope and peace.
Birth is mind-blowing, overwhelming and scary.
Giving birth changes everything.
Just like the coming of Jesus.
Once Jesus arrived and even now as we anticipate Jesus coming again, the world order is being changed.
With the Coming of Jesus comes a clean slate, a fresh start, a beginning to the creation of a new world order.
But getting there is just like childbirth---painful, scary, messy and at times, overwhelming.
Periodically throughout our own lives we’ve been in that place—in that painful, scary, messy and overwhelming place. Some of us use our faith to carry us through, some of us deny our faith in those times because we figure we’ve been abandoned by it, we figure that if faith was real nothing bad would ever happen, that we would never disagree about the exercise of our faith, that we would all be lockstep in the worship of a Savior who never makes us question or worry or squirm. Faith is messy, the history of Christianity is messy and living our Christian faith is messy.
So is Advent.
Preparing for the messiah requires perseverance, fortitude, grit, spunk and persistence. It also requires faith.
Big Faith. Messy Faith.
Take a moment and think of those people in your own life who’ve exhibited gritty faith in the face of great odds. No doubt they ticked some folks off, while being encouraging to others. Their faith was challenged, their faith endured.
Jesus ticked people off too, so did Moses, Noah, John the Baptist, the Woman at the well, Mary Magdalene, Peter, Mahatma Ghandi, Martin Luther King Jr. etc..
Their faith was big, messy and in most cases, the structure of their world had to be destroyed before it could be rebuilt.
We’re called to have a faith that is so Big people are changed by witnessing it.
A faith so big that when people see us negotiate the changes and chances of this world—they stand back and take notice, just like the disciples did when they viewed the stones of the temple.
We need to have a faith so big that our very being can’t contain it.
And when it overflows it will be messy, complicated and perhaps really difficult to look at and hear about. But a faith that can kill one person on a cross and then save an entire world? That’s bound to be messy. Amen.
ADVENT 1C
Advent readings are not necessarily all light and joy— they remind us that it may get darker before the light arrives, and that there’s a ton of work to be done before we get to the light and the joy.
Work that isn’t all that easy. Work that, frankly, a lot of you may wish I’d stop talking about.
The world is a mess. Gaza, Israel; Ukraine, Russia. Racism. Hate. Out of control violence perpetuated by people who think the only way to deal with their personal issues of intolerance and fear is to lash out in violence against innocents.
On a more personal level I know that each and everyone of you has a whole host of worries on your plate. Health concerns, family issues, economic insecurity, work stress.
Life is challenging, scary, and fragile.
We all deal with these issues differently—sometimes we deny them, sometimes we tackle them, sometimes we avoid them, sometimes we just plain worry about them.
But, and here’s where our readings for today come into play, when everything seems to be at it’s worst, when everything seems to be at it’s darkest, when the “signs in the sun, the moon and the stars…cause people to faint from fear,” when we can’t seem to find our way out of whatever mess we find ourselves in …
lo and behold, God appears. Because God always appears.
Advent is about having hope. Having hope even when the days are dark and the world feels cold and the future seems precarious.
Advent is about trusting that the light will always follow the dark.
Advent is about knowing---deep down in our gut—that a leaf will sprout from the righteous branch of David.
Advent is about remembering that God isn’t finished: not with us, not with the world.
Creation and redemption are not once and for all, over and done with acts of God.
In and through us, God keeps creating.
God in Christ acted to redeem the world and God in Christ keeps on actively redeeming it.
As Jeremiah says “. . . [The Lord] will execute justice and righteousness in the land,” and until that’s done, God’s not done.
So as we continue our weeks of preparation, waiting, and hoping, we must prayerfully open ourselves to this plain and certain fact:
As long as God isn’t finished, neither are we.
As long as the redeeming work of God through Christ is still working in this world, we must keep working here—in Batavia NY and the surrounding areas~working to bring the light of Christ to all we encounter.
~~Working to BE the light of Christ in this world. ~~Working to make sure that we, in expectant waiting, hopeful anticipation and cheerful preparation, remain the instruments of the Loving, Redeeming, and still working God who came to be among us over 2000 years ago.
Advent is a process for us and a process for God. You see, for God, becoming human only works if we accept that incarnate God into our lives---wholly, fully and totally.
That’s what we’re getting ready for. We’re getting ready to welcome, accept and embrace the best guest. Ever.
The journey isn’t swift, the way isn’t easy, but we are compelled, through our Baptismal vows, to keep going, ending only when that righteous branch of David returns, joyously announcing that there is, once and for all, Peace on Earth and Goodwill for everyone, everywhere, for ever. May we make it so. Amen
ADVENT 2c
Prophets don’t come onto the scene quietly. They shake things up; shout from the rooftops and set us on edge. A prophet doesn’t fit in, doesn’t tell us what we want to hear, rather a prophet tells us what we must hear. A prophet is often a pain in our rear. But after a prophet is through with us? Well after an encounter with a prophet, we don’t look at anything the same way.
After a prophet is through with us, we’re different.
John the Baptist knew he was the opening act for the Messiah. His job is to turn us around, leaving the old behind to accept the different, the new life Christ will provide. So, this straggly looking, wild sounding peasant in the wilderness tells us: “repent, turn your lives around, open yourself” to the new way which is about to arrive.
John the Baptist stood between two distinct periods in our Christian history— bridging the prophetic voice of the Hebrew scripture with the new voice to come in the person of Jesus Christ. A transitional figure with one eye firmly on the past and one eye firmly on the future, some thought John was a prophet ahead of his time, while others thought he was just plain nuts; but he knew he was the new Elijah, paving the way for God’s in-breaking into the world through Jesus Christ.
And he was going to make darn sure that people heard his message of both promise and warning.
Promise that the Messiah was on his way and warning that we weren’t (aren’t?) prepared!
John’s challenging us to drop all that weighs us down and accept the coming of the New World.
A new world full of God’s love.
Should be an easy message to sell, right?
Life is more joyful when we allow God’s love to wash over us and guide us...so we should gladly and easily turn our lives around, shedding all that stands in our way, right?
Well…that’s not what we do…we’re human and it’s human nature to resist change…even when it’s good for us!
Remarkably, when we’re in a bad situation we have a tendency to stay put, to stick with the status quo. Not because we’re gluttons for punishment but because we’d rather stick with a scenario we know than change to one we don’t.
The familiar, even when it isn’t good, seems less risky than the unfamiliar.
This is not new.
The people of the Exodus and those of the Exile wanted, at one time or another, to return to what they knew—even though it was bad for them—because what they knew was less risky than what they didn’t.
We’re no different.
But to fully receive the miracle in Bethlehem we must take this Advent time of preparation to lower our mountains, fill our valleys and straighten our own crooked roads.
We all have them—mountains of doubt, valleys of anxiety, roads crooked with worry. John the Baptist, in all his railing and ranting, in all his challenges and promises prepares us for this new way, he brings us across the divide from the old to the new. He invites us to emerge from the muddy waters of the Jordan changed, ready to receive God’s embrace of love.
A love born of Mary swaddled in rags, lying in a manger.
So our job this Advent season, amidst all the preparations of trees and gifts, amidst all our roads of worry, valleys of anxiety and mountains of doubt is to repent: to turn our lives from all that weighs us down, from all that distracts us and turn toward the east and with heads raised high and arms outstretched ready to accept the coming of the Lord.
The image isn’t quiet and the message isn’t sweet, but by following the prophets we’ll find ourselves in that barn on a silent night, awash in wonder and bowled over by awe. Amen.
Advent 3c
Every year usually on the second and third Sundays in traditional Advent we hear from John the Baptist…the cousin of Jesus who came to prepare the way for the Lord. His style was fast and furious, his message, hard to receive.
But this is a thing I feel pretty certain about—I don’t think John could help himself. Sometimes in life there are things that feel so vital, we can’t keep quiet about it, no matter the cost.
What John is asking of us is at once simple and at the same time, so difficult…he is asking if we’re ready to proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ. To quote the author of yesterday’s AdventWord post (published by Forward Movement):
“I’m not asking you to swap your pumpkin spice latte for locusts and honey. I’m asking: has this good news—-that God will come as a helpless baby to save the world—settled into your bones? Do you hear it so clearly that your life takes to this story, proclaiming joy in the good news of our loving and life giving God?”
Will you, will we, do this work of Christ? Will we receive one another in love? Will we stand up and speak out when challenged by the encroaching darkness of this world… even if it makes others uncomfortable? Will we stand up and speak out when our neighbor is degraded and dismissed? Will we speak out and stand up when injustice swirls about us?
John challenges us to accept the miracle of God come to us as one of us by taking God’s Word and proclaiming it, no matter how unpopular that word may be in our current world.
John is asking us, are you ready? Because if you (we) accept this baby in the manger than we must be willing to do all the grown man Jesus expects of us. What happens on Christmas is sweet and lovely, yes. But it is also wild and wooly, unpopular and difficult. Because being a follower of Jesus Christ means more than singing Christmas carols and giving donations to our favorite cause. It means working to end the systems of injustice and intolerance that permeate our world. This isn’t work for us to root on others to do. It is our work. John asks us, are we ready? John’s was a message not talking the talk but walking the walk.
My friends, it is our sacred duty to stand up and speak out. It is our sacred duty to care about our neighbor. It is our sacred duty to be the hands and feet, mouths and ears of Jesus right here and right now. Before we sing Silent Night, are we ready to Go Tell it on the Mountain? Because if we aren’t, we best a find a way to get ready, for God’s justice waits for no one. It just flows. Let’s join it, let’s do it, let’s be it. For what John asks is right: Have the requirements of our baptism seeped deeply enough into our bones that we’re ready to not only live this story, but to be it?
In that spirit, instead of proclaiming our faith through the Nicene Creed, today I want us to proclaim our commitment to this faith through the Baptismal Covenant, found on page 304 of the Book of Common Prayer. Please stand as you are able and proclaim ourselves followers of Christ through the Baptismal Covenant.
Page 304
ADVENT 4c
Today’s gospel comes from just after Gabriel tells Mary that she’ll bear God’s Son who will save the world; and just before Mary’s Song of revolution which we read as our canticle for today.
Mary’s first move after Gabriel’s announcement? Visiting Elizabeth, an older distant relation who is 6 months into her own miraculous pregnancy, one that came far later than normal and after decades of shame, because of Elizabeth and Zechariah’s infertility.
Consider these two women: one scandalously too old to be pregnant, the other scandalously too unmarried. Elizabeth, who views her pregnancy as God “taking away the disgrace” of her childlessness, and Mary, perhaps fearing the disgrace her pregnancy would bring.
Mary turns to Elizabeth— not her mother or an older sister, not a grandmother or an aunt, but a family friend or distant relative who lives in another town.
I wonder what things Mary and Elizabeth offered each other…how was each woman able to be grace and peace to the other, was it by sharing their different perspectives on their surprising pregnancies? Was it their courage in the face of the judgement of others? Or was it a shared shame? Maybe all of the above…
I imagine there are a lot of feelings stirring in Mary as she heads to the hill country and ponders what’s happening in her body: new life and God’s glory, alongside the nausea, fear, and exhaustion. Somehow I imagine she just wants to lean on a trusted older woman, someone she can learn from…but when she arrives it is Elizabeth who is honored to have Mary there, it is Elizabeth who wonders how she came to be blessed by the presence of the mother of the long expected Messiah. No doubt surprised by Elizabeth’s greeting (complete with John the Baptist doing a somersault in Elizabeth’s womb) Mary must have felt a stirring within her as well, leading to her proclamation of the Song that put the world on notice that the powerful were to be weakened and the weakened, empowered; a prelude to the message her Son would give, a message we still must heed today.
Despite all the unknowns, Mary knows it’s going to be all right, in part because her trusted kinswoman tells her so—with her words and by her very presence alongside her.
Elizabeth knows that things will be OK for her as well, even though she and her husband have not been able to exchange a word since before her shocking pregnancy began ( remember Zechariah’s doubt which rendered him mute?).
This is the gift of close relationships at their best: giving and receiving the reassurance we need, even when we can’t quite see it for ourselves.
Who provides that for you? Who is it that always has your back, encourages you, and emboldens you to do more that you can ever ask or imagine?
Mary had Elizabeth and Elizabeth had Mary.
And we have them both.
And so many more—- matriarchs and patriarchs of our faith who have shown us what we can do when we say yes to God.
What is God asking of us this day, of you and of me?
What is it that God believes we can do that we may be too unsure, too frightened or too embarrassed to do?
When confronted with such challenges I pray we’ll have the courage that Mary showed, the faith the Elizabeth lived, and the stalwart support they each received from their spouses.
But most of all I pray that each and every one of us will hear when God speaks and that our answers will come not out of hubris but humility, not out of knowing all the answers, but out of living into the questions.
Because what Mary and Elizabeth teach us is that saying yes doesn’t mean we know the way, saying yes just means we trust the way.
Amen.
Christmas Eve Yr C
+“Glory to God in the Highest and Peace to God’s People on Earth. Tonight, in the City of David, a savior is born, the messiah, the Prince of Peace.”
Sweet words.
The account of Jesus’ birth is one of the most familiar stories of all time, filled with classic images: angels and the heavenly hosts, that wild star, a young peasant girl and her stalwart betrothed, a barn with sheep, cows, goats, donkeys, straw and that feeding trough—the manger—it’s a sweet tale.
And one of the most subversive, revolutionary and radical stories of all time.
Did Jesus’ birth really go this way?
Who knows?
Early Christians didn’t seem to care how or where Jesus was born. ..so writing a birth narrative just didn’t seem necessary. But, for some reason, the story developed late in the first century, over 50 years after Jesus’ death.
Regardless of how the story developed, the account of Jesus’ birth represents a fundamental Truth of our faith: that the oppressed, the outcasts of society are beloved by God and until they’re treated with respect and dignity, our job, as the descendants of Mary and Joseph, isn’t finished. As Martin Luther King, in his Letter from a Birmingham jail said: injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
This is the legacy of the birth we celebrate tonight, the subversive meaning of the Christmas story: everyone, lowly and despised shepherds, mysterious Hindu star gazers from the east, a couple from the non-descript village of Nazareth, everyone is beloved, adored and cherished by God.
We, as believers in the dignity of every human being, must take the story of Jesus’s birth and live into the subversive message within it.
We’re called on this most holy and peaceful of evenings, to be subversive through our own sweetness and concern.
When we’re sweet to the outcasts of society—when we care for the rejected, the hated, the despised—we’re being subversive. When we reach out a hand of greeting to the mentally ill, the imprisoned, the sick, the different, the unusual then we are, through our sweetness, being subversive. Being radical, being revolutionary.
When we treat creation sweetly, caring for the environment, protecting our natural resources for our grandchildren, we’re being subversive. When we say no to big oil, to pharmaceutical companies, to the users of pesticides, the industrial polluters, the people who refuse to accept any responsibility for tomorrow--- when we say “no” to them-- then we are, through our concern, being subversive. Being radical. Being revolutionary.
When we stand up to the bully, when we say no to those who abuse, when we say yes to the children, the elderly, the ill, the lost, the frightened, when we expect and demand integrity from our elected officials we’re being just what, just who, Jesus came to be: a sweet yet determined savior who won’t rest until this world is full of grace and truth, mercy, justice ,and peace.
And therein lies the reality of our task on this Christmas Eve and all the days to follow: to stand on the shoulders of a revolutionary preacher, radical rabbi, a man of God who’s left us, US, to fulfill his mission.
In the sweetness of this Holy Night lies this Christian fact: ALL PEOPLE, are as loved by God as that sweet baby, born in a barn, wrapped in rags, resting in a manger. And it’s our sacred duty to make sure that all of them know it. Glory to God in the Highest and Peace to God’s People on Earth. Tonight, in the City of David, a savior is born, the messiah, the Prince of Peace. Merry Christmas and Amen.
Epiphany Year C
Our reading from Isaiah and our psalm include wonderful descriptions of God’s love for us. Not just any old love, my friends, but the love which can only come from the source
of all love, the Source of all light, the source of…all:
Our Creator God.
I don’t know about you, but thinking of God as the source of all the love I give, all the love I feel, all the love I receive is powerful. As Martin Luther King first said, and our former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry made famous, if it isn’t about Love it isn’t about God…or, put another way, if it’s Love, it's God. If it’s Love it’s Sacred. If it’s Love it’s Divine.
Isaiah says:
“Lift up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you;
Look around, all the good in our world is ours.”
The Love. The Beauty, life itself — it’s all a gift.
Lift your eyes my friends, look around. It’s for you. It’s for us.
This idea of Love being Divine and the Divine being Love is something to behold, so let’s lift our eyes up and away from the worries that lower our gaze and let us allow the Divine Love of God to fill us to overflowing.
Our psalm proclaims:
“In his time shall the righteous flourish; *
there shall be abundance of peace till the moon shall be no more.”
In God’s time the righteous shall flourish.
In. God’s. Time.
What is God’s time? I don’t know, but I do know: it’s not our time.
It’s never our time.
It’s always God’s time.
As we begin this new year of 2025 it’s common to make resolutions, to say, “this year’s going to be different.”
But instead of grand statements about changing ourselves what if we resolved to let God change us? What if we opened ourselves to our own personal Epiphanies—-
to allow the Will of God to have us—lock stock and barrel?
To let go and let God?
To, instead of trying to change ourselves into a version we imagine is better, look up and receive God who will mold us into who it is we were born to be?
This takes courage, to follow a God who’s signs to us may not be clear, whose idea of what’s best for us may not be what we want or even what we have ever imagined.
It takes the courage of the Magi who followed that star with openness and hunger for where and to what it would lead, even though they had no idea what, where and ultimately who that would be.
All God wants is good.
We may not agree with that good—we may not recognize it as good—but for God all that God imagines is Good.
And this Good is waiting for us to recognize it, accept it, and allow it to take hold of us. To have an Epiphany.
My siblings in Christ, this is the day the Lord has made, this is the year the Lord has made, this is the life God has made.
For us…so remember to go out from here in Love, in God, aware enough to realize what God is calling us to be and to do.
Happy New Year and a Blessed Epiphany; may we be filled with the Peace and Love of God in the Flesh, God With Us, Emmanuel.
Amen.
Baptism of Christ Year C
Today’s gospel has me thinking about self-esteem. In my 25 years as a practicing psychotherapist I made a living on the lack of self esteem of others. Regardless of the cause, a lack of self-esteem keeps therapists, drug dealers and bartenders in business. The damaged self-esteem of people around me breaks my heart, and oftentimes my prayers for those people feel empty, because I don’t know how to counteract all the forces in this world that contribute to damaging self-esteem.
But then I re-read the gospel we just heard.
As is often the case, re-reading a story I’ve heard scores of times in my life hits me anew and right between the eyes.
This week, as if I never heard it before, I heard: The SAME Holy Spirit bestowed upon Jesus at his baptism, is the SAME Holy Spirit laid upon the Samaritans in today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles and the same HS given each of us through the beauty and wonder of our own baptisms:
a Spirit of forbearance and hope,
a Spirit of “sticktoitiveness”,
a Spirit of courage to stand up and speak out when confronted with injustice and wrong.
This Spirit given to us and for us from the God who loves us is the Same Holy Spirit to be laid upon Parker, Julian, Trinity, Millie and Joey in just a few minutes.
Today these five beloved children of God will be welcomed by us into the family of God, sealed with the Holy Spirit, and marked as Christ’s own, forever.
Just like you were and just like I was.
Sealed and marked. Signed, sealed and delivered, we’re God’s. As I mentioned, most of us are familiar with the baptism of Jesus story— he comes out of the water and the heavens open and God’s voice proclaims. But Luke’s account differs in what seems a profound way:
In the other accounts, the heavens open and God’s voice exclaims: “you are my son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased,” as soon as Jesus emerged from the Jordan River. In Luke it’s only after everyone has been baptized, and Jesus is praying, only then did heaven open, only then did the Holy Spirit alight upon Jesus and only then did the voice of God pronounce that Jesus was God’s Son, beloved by God and with whom God is well pleased.
As Jesus was praying.
Luke’s version emphasizes a couple of things:
Jesus’s baptism was one among many, and entire community was baptized—-kind of like the Metcalfe community being baptized today,
And the outreaching of God came while Jesus was praying. Not when he emerged from the water, not at the moment of baptism by John, but while praying.
How does this relate to these five children we're presenting for baptism today, to their parents and sponsors, to each of us?
Say your prayers.
Set aside time to intentionally sit with God. The heavens may not open and the voice of the Almighty may not bellow from above, but then again, maybe it will.
Because in this season of Epiphany when we open ourselves to receive what’s being offered to us by God, when we spend that time with God, we’ll be astounded.
Not by the heavens opening, but by ourselves opening. Opening to the reality that we’re not alone, that we’re beloved by our Creator God who wants nothing more for us than to realize that we are beloved. That we’re valued and are precious in God’s sight.
May we never forget that as much as the parents, grandparents, sponsors of these children love and adore them, God loves and adores them AND us, more.
May we never let Parker, Julian, Millie, Trini, and Joey forget that they are God’s beloved. And never forget that you are too. For when we remember our belovedness, we are reminders to others of theirs. And when the whole world believes that they’re loved, then this world has a chance at being the world God envisions.
May it be so. Now let’s get these five baptized!
Amen
Epiphany 2Yr C
When I was 42 years old my friend Kristen said to me—“you need to be a priest, why aren’t you a priest?” I told her the horse had long ago left that barn!
I had felt a strong call to the priesthood as a little kid but the problem is I was a little kid in the 1960’s. Women weren’t given the ok to be ordained priest until 1974 and even then it was not common and the Bishop of Chicago at the time refused to ordain women to the priesthood. So yeah, the horse had left the barn back in the 1970’s but Kristen was persistent with her insistence that I was born to be a priest. I was intrigued by her question and it did jar something loose from the recesses of my soul. The rest, as they say, is history.
Oftentimes we need someone besides ourselves to point us in the direction we’re being called.
Today, Mary was persistent with Jesus—-“you need to create more wine”——
Jesus’s response? “cut it out Mom, I’m here to have fun, it isn’t time for all that yet. I just made these friends, don’t ruin it for me by having me do a party trick.”
Jesus knows his time is near, but he insists it’s not now! Was he sure of that or was he unsure, not quite ready to give us being just one of the guys. Sometimes we’re unwilling to see what’s right in front of us
So, the wedding host has run out of wine. Did more people come to the wedding than expected? Was the host a cheapskate? Or maybe the host just didn’t have enough money and hoped he could make the wine last. As you’ve heard me preach before hospitality is the cornerstone of middle eastern culture. So to run out of wine at a wedding is being a bad host—-it’s shameful.
Mary sees what’s happening and aims to make it right.
Now, was Mary asking Jesus to turn water into wine because she was intent on saving the wedding host from shame? Or did Mary see something Jesus didn’t…our wouldn’t ? Did she see this HIGHLY unusual event—running out of wine—-as God’s push to Jesus, God’s SIGN to him that it was time?
I think John wants us to see how everything pointed to this being Jesus’s time.
First, there was the opportunity to, by performing his first miracle, saving the wedding host from sure and certain humiliation, and making it clear to the disciples he’s just called that he is indeed someone special; and then there were the empty jugs used for purification rites among the Jewish people. John uses the symbolism of an implement VITAL to Judaic law being empty and Jesus, the fulfillment of the law, filling the implements of the old law with new, exquisite wine. John’s clearly making a point here—it’s Jesus’s time and his ministry will be one that fulfills and then surpasses the law of Moses. The water jugs will be filled with something new.
Change is coming, change is here.
Mary saw it before Jesus did, she noticed when Jesus didn’t, she understood when Jesus didn’t, she acted when Jesus didn’t want to. Even the Savior of the world needed a push to see what was right before his eyes, something he couldn’t see clearly for all the clouds of his own expectations in the way.
And therein lies the lesson—-sometimes it’s time for us to do something even if we think it isn’t time; like Jesus, or that the time has passed, like me. We all need those nearest and dearest to us to drop the scales from our eyes so we can see clearly, what they know to be true.
Continuing with the Epiphany theme of realization, noticing and understanding, what is it that stands right in front of you, that you are resistant to truly see? There are a few people doing a lot of things at St James. And none of us are getting younger. In the coming weeks you will hear about volunteer opportunities, might these opportunities be what is right before your eyes? Or perhaps some need you think St James should address is standing right before our eyes and we need you to point it out.
Jesus didn’t want to see, Mary showed him. I was afraid I was too old, so I wouldn’t see, Kristen showed me.
What is it for you?
May we all look, may we all see and may we all act.
Amen.
Epiphany 3c
Last week we were introduced to the beginning of Jesus’s ministry according to John…the wedding at Cana. Today, Luke introduces us to Jesus’s ministry in his hometown, Nazareth.
Because the chronology of these beginning stories is confusing, let’s set the scene from Luke: Following Jesus’s baptism, which we heard two Sundays ago, Jesus is thrust into a time of discernment in the wilderness, 40 days and nights of hunger, thirst, temptation and fear. After that ordeal Jesus goes home.
Makes sense, right? He’s been through a lot so he goes home to hang with the family..and go to synagogue. No doubt the folks at synagogue were excited to see him. Until.
Until he says that the scripture reading is being fulfilled in their sight—that he is the promised Messiah.
Outraged by what they consider blasphemy (we don’t hear this part this year)—the people Jesus grew up with, drive him out of town. They want no part of his preaching.
That’s Luke, now let’s turn to Paul, writing some 20 years after the scene in Nazareth, to the churches in Corinth. Corinth is one of the places where early Christianity really takes off. There are home churches throughout the region. After just a short time these home churches are at odds with each other— bickering over the different ways each congregation chose to follow The Way of Christ. Paul, in his long-winded and winding prose, tries to get through to the Corinthians that difference within the community is good and healthy. Difference is to be expected, not cast out.
Last week Paul said, there are a variety of gifts everyone has—What one is good at, another may not be good at etc. Then, in today’s portion, Paul talks about how all parts of a community—the Body—- function in complementary fashion. An eye is an eye and can’t be an ear, an ear is an ear and can’t be an eye…
Paul’s saying, difference/variety is what makes us strong; a myriad of gifts allows for the message of God’s saving love to be expressed in as many different ways as there are different types of people.
We may listen to Paul’s reasonings, shake our heads in agreement, and think, “oh yes, difference is good.”
Until.
Until something new is presented to us—maybe a new parishioner, maybe a decision the vestry makes, maybe a sermon we hear—but something or someone challenges us to look at things differently, considering not just our own traditions and our own interpretation of how things should be, but looking at things through a new lens. Sometimes the view through that new lens is scary, difficult to accept or maybe in our own opinion, blasphemous.
Which is what happened when Jesus returns home to the synagogue—what he said shook up, irritated, and even threatened those present. It didn’t sit well.
We hear of the townsfolk in Nazareth rejecting Jesus and think—those fools! But the truth, as Paul tells us, is that we do the same thing. When something or someone different comes along our human nature leads us to buckle down on what we’re comfortable with—whether it’s serving us well or not.
Paul’s telling us that “difference” isn’t bad, it’s just… different.
That challenge isn’t bad…it’s just challenging.
Different and challenging are a little unnerving, and it’s ok to be shaken up a bit , for this is where our trust and strength in the love of God comes into play. Because when we’re feeling unsettled, we’re to bring it to Jesus —- He doesn’t expect us to not be unsettled or nervous or unsure he just expects us to feel our feelings, give them to him, right at this altar, and then, nourished by Holy Communion and emboldened through our trust in him, move into the different and challenging.
It’s not easy or comfortable, but it is the way of Jesus.
So, as you, the good people of St Stephen’s, undertake the councils of this parish church I hope you remain open to the different and the challenging, for it is the way of Jesus, the way of the Spirit, the way of God.
Amen.
