Advent 3A 11 Dec 2016 Did You Ever Wonder?

+ Have you ever wondered if it’s all true?
Wondered if Jesus really was God in the flesh? Wondered if Mary REALLY birthed the Son of God?
Did you ever wonder if it’s all true?
This question’s been asked by the most faithful and the least—and it makes sense---how can it be that God’s here? There’s still hatred and intolerance; there’s still violence, hopelessness and loss. How can it be that Emmanuel--God with us --- is true?
Is he really the one?
John the Baptist wondered.
Now don’t get me wrong, John the Baptist BELIEVED.
He believed that he was the one to herald the coming of the King, he believed he was to serve as Elijah to the Messiah, that he was to announce the coming of the Lord. But we find him in today’s Gospel wondering if maybe, just maybe he made a mistake.
“Are you the one to come?” John asks.
“And, if you are, how come you’re letting me languish in this cell? Herod isn’t mellowing, my days are numbered, Lord. HOW ABOUT SOME HELP HERE?”
John believed.
But, what John thought he believed wasn’t playing out like he thought it would. He had faith that the Messiah would come. He had faith in Jesus, but Jesus as Messiah? Jesus didn’t fit the prototype, he wasn’t what John expected.
Think about the Gospel stories we hear throughout the year, think about who they tell us Jesus is… He’s not always who we expect…
 We love the man who held children dear, who embraced the outcast and the hated. But to love that Jesus we must also love the Jesus who tells people to turn on their families in order to follow him, who tears up the temple, who compares a Samaritan woman to a dog.
Jesus isn’t always who we want him to be.
Our faith is something we hold dear, the stories of our faith nourish us, the rhythm of our faith soothes us.
But the reality of our faith?
Well that often shakes us to our core.
Where’s the star? The shepherds? Where’s Mary talking to the angel Gabriel? Why oh why must we get these readings about judgment and vengeance 14 days before Christmas? Why can’t we get a nice gentle lead into the story we all know and love?
Well…because the story we know and love isn’t the point. The birth of Jesus isn’t the point.
The life of Jesus and the life of all who follow him is.
Truth is, the factual details of Jesus’ birth don’t necessarily match what we hear in the nativity stories. But it doesn’t matter-- the story rings true in our heart. The Christmas story is an icon of our faith—the census, the barn, the star, the angels, the shepherds, the straw---but in the weeks leading to up to Christmas there’s not a star, a sheep, or an angel in sight.
Instead we get readings foreshadowing the second coming of Christ, the time when Jesus will return to the earth to separate the wheat from the chaff, the sheep from the goats, the followers of God from the non-believers. We get this Gospel where John the Baptist begins to wonder, “are you the one? Because it sure doesn’t look like you are. Where’s the kingdom? Where’s the peace? Where’s the unity?”
Jesus’ words echo here---“what did you come out to see, to hear? A show? A flashy liturgy full of promises, requiring absolutely nothing of you except tossing some money in the collection plate and following a set code of conduct that, if followed guarantees success and happiness…the so –called Prosperity Gospel?”
Wouldn’t it be great if we could come to church every Sunday, listen to beautiful music, recite familiar prayers, hear a decent sermon now and again, enjoy friends at coffee hour….and then go home and not think about it again until next Sunday?
But that’s not how it works is it?
We don’t just wander out of church on Sunday, we are sent out --to seek and serve Christ in all whom we encounter.
We are sent.
To be Christ in the world.
It’s not a spectator sport, is it? We are sent. To see and to do. To notice and to help. To realize and to change.
There’s a lot to do!
  John the Baptist is scared, he’s worn out and he’s worried. Had he made a mistake? Was Jesus really the one to come?
Jesus, instead of soothing John with a simple, “YES and oh by the way here are your parole papers…” tells John that he is the One because the lame walk, the blind see and the hungry are fed. He’s telling John –and us---that the work of God here on earth is accomplished one step at a time, one kind act at a time, one healing moment at a time. And that His coming—the first time and the second---are book ends. We, the Body of Christ on earth are the filler.
 We, the followers of Christ, full of wonder and doubt, full of hope and despair, full of questions that have no clear answers, fill in the space between the first and the second coming one step at a time, one kind act at a time, one healing moment at a time.
Jesus is the Messiah. And we are his followers.
As we enter into the wondrous story of his birth, don’t worry about what is fact and what is not, worry about what is true and right: that God so loved the world, God sent Jesus to live among us, to teach us, to inspire us and to leave us to finish the work that he began.
Amen.

Advent 2A Dec.4, 2016 Nurturing the Shoot Within Us All

+There are so many images that come to mind while listening to 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 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 baptizing act in the River Jordan. There he is, all smelly and wrapped in camel hair, blasting his message to all within ear shot, a touch of crazed ramblings infused with a wisdom that cannot be denied.
¬ And one of my favorite images of all—that earnest little seedling shooting up from a stump: a branch from the tree of Jesse.
Have you ever felt like a stump….a mere fragment of your former self?  A little dried up, worn down, feeling as if life has cut you off at your knees?
The prophet Isaiah tells us: “A shoot shall come out from the stump 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---they were under attack by the Assyrians, they were surrounded, defeat was at every turn. It’s hard to imagine the Israelites hopeful at that time, isn’t it?
Who can imagine anything growing while sitting on the stump of utter despair?
 I’ve sat there myself, perhaps you have, too. You may be there now -- at that place where hope is cut off, where loss and sadness have deadened your heart. A place where peace seems out of reach and happiness, the thing of fantasy.
  The good news is that God’s Advent word has come to sit, on that stump, alongside us, right where we are. God’s Advent Word won’t come in a blaze of glory, it’s not delivered on a chariot of fire. It won’t ask us to get up and dance! It comes to us, exactly where we are and it comes to us just how we are...happy and hopeful, sad and despairing, raging and ranting. It doesn’t matter—God’s Advent Word meets us where right we are.
Today’s Advent Words come to us from Isaiah—hopeful words creating a vision that’s surprising in its simplicity and honesty. Nothing hyperbolic and lofty here. The Word 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. No, 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… no, it will be a child…a BABY!
Much later in the book of Isaiah we read:
“For [the Lord] grew up before them like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.”
  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!
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 disbelief, the frozen ground of our fear, the rock hard stone of our 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: “Look! Look -- there on the stump. Do you see that green shoot growing?”
“O come, green shoot of Jesse, free
Your people from despair and apathy;
Forge justice for the poor and the meek,
Grant safety for the young ones and the weak.
Rejoice, rejoice! Take heart and do not fear,
God’s chosen one, Immanuel, draws near.”
Preparing our hearts for the coming of our Lord requires that we let the shoot of Love take root and grow within us. Because, when we do that, we’ll find ourselves awestruck, alongside Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, the donkey, and all the other barn critters, gazing down upon the Savior of the World, come to us as a precious baby boy.
Amen!

Advent 1A Nov 27, 2016

Today I was all set to preach this sermon at Trinity, Hamburg. Then Pete called to say she'd called the ambulance because Mom was sick. I threw off my vestments and handed this sermon to Frieda Webb who delivered it in my stead.


+Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a season that begins in darkness and ends in an explosion of light bursting forth from a crib in a barn because there was no room at the inn.
As we begin 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 is to be ready for that last day.
Advent is a season to take stock of our lives, to review, to make changes and move on. Which makes it sound an awful lot like Lent doesn’t it? Well…yes…and no…. 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 God lays God’s self-bare before us[1]---when God comes to dwell among us in the stark vulnerability of a newborn baby.
Let me repeat that—Advent is when God lays God’s self-bare before us in the naked innocence of a newborn baby. No walls, no barriers, no boundaries. What a fabulous image ---God laid out before us, in all the glory, wonder and peacefulness of a new-born.
What an honor and 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, receiving that love, embracing that love means that we have to be open to it, we have to be READY for it. Because to accept the vulnerability of that baby who is God we must shed all darkness---we must 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.  This is 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, frankly, it’s the Christmas spirit that places us in the perfect state of mind to receive the gift that is Jesus Christ.
Think about the mood change in the world this time of year. People are happier. People take time to gather for parties, to write Christmas cards to those who are far off and those who are near. People think about what people mean to them and then tell them! Folks hold doors open, let cars pull ahead of them in traffic. People are kinder. Gentler. More peaceful.
In other words, during Advent and Christmas we are who we are 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 are 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. Welcome to Advent, a time for us to embrace God laying bare before us, in that crib, in that Bethlehem barn so many years ago.
Amen.

Thanksgiving Day 2016

+Thanksgiving Day. A once a year holiday in the secular world. Too bad for them.
Once a year?….pshaw….
We have Thanksgiving every single week…and not just any ol’ordinary Thanksgiving, it’s a GREAT Thanksgiving. Go ahead, take a look on page __ of the bulletin. The Great Thanksgiving is the communion portion of our service---when we, a holy people share holy food.
Each and every week we gather around the dining table of our Lord to offer thanks for all that we have and all that we are. Everything. Our blessings and our burdens. Our hopes and our fears. Our happiness and our worries.
The Great Thanksgiving of our Lord doesn’t seek only the good. The Great Thanksgiving of our Lord requests---longs for---everything we have. And all that we are.
We are called each and every week to place it all –our joys and our triumphs, our sorrows and our losses---on this altar. The whole kit and caboodle. Doing that is an act of true and thorough and full thankfulness.
In a few moments we’ll recite A Litany of Thanksgiving I have used for several years. I like this litany because in it we offer thanks for the good as well as the challenges of life. None of us want to be challenged, but we are and frankly, we usually learn a tremendous amount from these challenges. We learn how strong we are, we learn who we can count on, and who we cannot. We learn our limits, we learn our abilities. We learn. We grow.
There’s an old saying among horse people that says:
“Don’t forget to thank the difficult horses that made your life hell, without them you wouldn’t be as good of rider as you are today.”
I don’t know about you, but I know that every challenge I have faced in life has made me a better human being, a better partner, a better daughter, a better sister, a better parent, a better friend, a better priest. So I intend, as we pray this litany, to thank the “difficult horses” of my life, because they have, indeed, made me a better rider.
So ,my friends, pray it fervently, honestly and whole-heartedly.
Because you see, God wants it all—every last bit of it. So please, PLEASE give it all to God. Even those things too difficult to express, those things too painful to utter—offer them to God—for when we do that we become better riders, we become better Christians, we become better people. +

Our King. This King Nov 20, 2016 Grace Lckprt Last Pentecost, Yr C: The Reign of Christ

+ Today is Christ the King Sunday, also known as the Reign of Christ. But just what do we mean by all this talk of Reign…and Kingship?…
It’s a day when we commemorate Jesus Christ as the King of King and the Lord of Lords. It’s a day when, as we close out the church year, we celebrate that our King, this King isn’t a king of royal palaces or of bejeweled crowns or of ermine robes. No today we remember that our king, this king died the death of a common criminal, that he was deserted by his friends and mocked by his captors.
Today we remember that our King, the King of our hearts and minds and souls isn’t a King of the powerful but is the King of the weak. Today we are reminded that our King isn’t the commander of a mighty army but is the Prince of all Peace. Today we remember that neither death nor life, not angels nor rulers, not present things nor future things, not powers nor principalities can determine our fate. Today we remember that Christ is our King, that Jesus is our Lord and that all of our power, all of our hope and all of our love is found in and through Him.
Today we celebrate that this faith of ours is as counter-cultural in the year 2016 as it was in the year 30.
Today we celebrate the fact that for 2000 years we have left those in our wake scratching their heads and saying, “those Chistians, are they nuts?’
Today we face the increasing intolerance of our world by saying, The Episcopal Church Welcomes You. Yes, You. And you, and you and you. The Episcopal Church welcomes the stranger, the refugee, the outcast, the hated, the different, the difficult and the destitute.
Today we face the ever-expanding hate of this world by saying, “we, as followers of Jesus Christ, love everyone.” Today we remind everyone in our world that although we may not like everyone all the time we do love everyone all of the time. Not because we necessarily want to, but because we must, because our Lord, our King, our Savior tells us that it is only by loving everyone that we ourselves can fully receive all the love God pours out upon us.
Today we face the never-ending uncertainty about our safety by saying that we, as people of deep faith, may not know what tomorrow holds, but that, as people of deep faith we know that all matter of things will be well because we are beloved children of God.
Today we remember that our King isn’t found on Pennsylvania Avenue or on Wall Street.
Today we remember that our King isn’t found in the money we make or the houses we build.
Today we remember that our King isn’t the winner of reality shows like the Voice, or Survivor or America’s Got Talent.
Today we remember that our King isn’t a Sabre or a Bill or even a Cub.
Today we remember that our King, this King, is too full of Love and Light, too full of Truth and Grace to be derailed by the darkness of this world.
Today we remember that our King, this King is the manifestation of God’s Love for us and that if we only remember who our King is, if we only remember what this King taught us---to love one another as we ourselves are loved---then this King, our King, the King, will reign not only in heaven but always and forever in our hearts.
For today, when we remember Him, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, he will remember us.
Amen.

St Martin in the Field, Grand Island , "Hearts on Fire." November 19, 2016

I was honored to be asked to give a talk at St Martin's Church on Grand Island at their Stewardship banquet. The scripture passage was from Luke's Gospel, the Road to Emmaus, especially "Hearts on Fire." Below is what I said:
I invite you to sit back and listen to a modern day fairy tale. The tale of two women, great heartache and the power of a faith community. Listen closely for you just might recognize you or someone you know in these words.
Once upon a time there were two women, Gail and Lucille, who were part of an ongoing euchre tournament held every Tuesday afternoon at a community center in the retirement complex in Vero Beach, Florida. On this particular Tuesday, Gail and Lucille were partners. In between hands they began to chat---about their marriages, their children, their grandchildren. They talked about the weather, their aches and pains and their coupon clipping. They avoided politics and religion.
The tournament was hot and heavy that day and Gail and Lucille cleaned up—they were a terrific team! Afterwards they went out for coffee---ok maybe they went out for gin and tonics---but whatever, they went out.
Gail, who usually never did anything like this with someone she barely knew, told Lucille about the greatest heartache of her life----her daughter’s mental illness and drug addiction in the 1970’s---she shared her daughter’s descent into the horror that is addiction and mental illness, about the arrests, the hospitalizations and the broken promises. She spoke of the recovery programs, halfway houses and court dates. She beamed as she spoke of her daughter’s current stability and sobriety and her leadership in the recovery community, her business success, her husband and their three kids. It was heartwarming.
Lucille asked Gail how she possibly made it through the years of ups and down, of hopes raised and hopes dashed? Gail hesitated but then said, well….”I think the short answer is my church. Now don’t get me wrong, said Gail, I’m no holy roller, I’m not one of those crazy Christians who are intolerant of anyone different from them. I am an Episcopalian, and back in the middle of all this mess with my daughter, my husband was transferred to a new town and I decided that joining a church was the best way to get to know my new hometown. No one at that church, except the priest, knew the depth of my heartache, but they embraced me, they showed me a way forward through their faithfulness, their welcome and their love. It’s funny, I never shared all that was going on with me with the friends I made there---not because I was ashamed, but because somehow, when I was with my church family, my heart just burned with a realization that as long as I kept being fed at the altar of that church—both the one in the church itself and the one of friendship and warmth at coffee hour, church suppers and other church events----I was strong enough, hopeful enough, serene enough—to bear what I needed to bear. We were only in that town for 2 ½ years but I never forgot that love, that fellowship, that sense of home. I stay in touch with many of them to this day---all these some 35 years later.”
After a few minutes of chit-chat, Lucille, no longer able to ignore the burning in her own heart, began to share her story with Gail.
Lucille’s story hearkened back to the 1980’s and the challenge of raising two kids all on her own in a small town…especially when one of her kids came out as gay at his high school graduation.
 On the stage.
Using the microphone!
She spoke of the embarrassment she felt by her son’s very public “coming out.” “I wasn’t ashamed of who he was---I was ashamed of the public spectacle he had made----it’s funny, Gail, I was raised Episcopal, too, and making a spectacle just isn’t in our DNA, is it? As a matter of fact, it was my Episcopal upbringing that made me wonder how it was that my son felt the only way to come out was in that public forum…I had always been very open with my kids and we, as a family, were accepting of all people, respecting all lifestyles, just like the Baptismal Covenant instructs us. But teenagers will be teenagers, and I guess he decided that the bigger and bolder his announcement, the better. Can’t get much bigger and bolder than the stage in the middle of the football field with the entire town in attendance!
Everyone at my church then was very sensitive to what had happened—almost too much so. After his announcement, the folks at my church then kind of tip-toed around me, as if talking about being tolerant and accepting was one thing, but actually being tolerant and accepting was another. They spoke of my son as if he was a science experiment, not a human being. They weren’t homophobic, they were just…. well…awkward. Soon thereafter I relocated to be closer to family and I joined the local episcopal church. WHAT a difference! This congregation wasn’t at all concerned about appearances or about being politically correct while actually being really socially awkward. The day I walked into that church I was embraced as a member of the family. I was extremely open about my son’s sexuality, as well as my daughter’s vegan, wiccan worshipping, green party, hippie lifestyle. We all had a laugh about it----our kids are our kids, no matter what! Thank goodness for that, because fast forward 10 years and as my son lay dying from AIDS in a hospital in Chicago, while I was fighting for his partner’s right to be by his bedside, my church back home was praying for us,  calling me, sending us prayer shawls and---this was the most amazing thing---an attorney in the congregation contacted a law school classmate who lived in Chicago to help me fight the hospital on behalf of my son’s partner. It was amazing. Even though those days were some of the worst of my life---there’s no heartache like the death of your child----I felt this resolve, this peace, this hope. It absolutely burned in my heart as I walked through the saddest days of my life. I know where that fire came from, I know where that peace, that resolve and that hope came from---my faith and the manifestation of that faith as expressed in my church home.”
Blown away, Gail just took Lucille’s hand and they sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Gail realized that they’d never told each other where they were from, they never mentioned the name of the churches that meant so much to them. Lucille answered that her church home, the one she misses everyday was St Martin’s in the Fields on a little known island in Western New York—Grand Island.
Gail’s jaw fell open and her heart was about to burst when she said, “that was my church for those 2 1/2 years.” St Martin’s, Grand Island.
OK, so maybe this story was a fairytale, maybe there never was a Gail or Lucille, but the truth of the matter is that this story tells us, in concrete terms, why congregations are important. A community of faith, like St. Martin’s, casts a wide net---you never know the effect your involvement at St Martin’s will have—on you and on all those whom you encounter. God only knows how many Gail’s and Lucille’s will walk through the doors of St. Martin’s in the years to come. May your gift keep those doors open and the fires stoked for many years, because there are people out there, and people in here, whose very lives depend on it. May all our hearts continue to burn in the knowledge and love of Jesus Christ, who is our peace, our hope, and our Savior and may God continue to bless The Episcopal Church of St Martin’s in the Field, Grand Island, NY.

Move Ahead or Die Proper 28 Yr C Grace Lockport 13 Nov 2016

+God says to the prophet Isaiah, “I am about to create a new heaven and a new earth…no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it or the cry of distress.”
I know that day will come. I know this is the goal of God’s creation. But, for those of us who feel in the minority, for those of us who love people who are considered outcasts, for those of us who long to live in a world without discrimination, hate, or prejudice, the day God speaks of may seem very far away. Especially this week.
I know some of us are hurting, worried, angry and stunned. Others of us don’t see what the big deal is…it was an election, one person won, others didn’t.
Those of you who know the family Pete and I’ve created can probably guess what our reaction has been. But, hopefully, you also know us as people of great faith, as people who believe, with all our heart, all our mind, and all our soul that God is good and that through God’s son, Jesus Christ, all things are being made new---albeit a wee bit slower than we may like. I, along with many of you, have spent this week trying to digest the great divide in this country--a small divide in numbers, but a vast divide in attitudes.
I’ve spent this week trying to ferret out the Good News, how to bring a message of hope, love, integrity and decency to you.
This hasn’t been easy.
All sides of this campaign have engaged in fear mongering and name calling. The campaign revealed how prominent intolerance, hate and fear are in our world. The aftermath of the election highlights our divide, our dis-ease.
The irony that our Gospel reading is full of eschatological---end of time--- imagery is not lost on me. And so as I began to write this sermon, I asked this question:
What is God doing in our lives—the people of America, the people of New York, the people of the Diocese of WNY, the people of Grace, Lockport---at this time and in this place?
Well apparently God is telling us, through Jesus Christ, that before we get to the world as God intended at creation, we need to dismantle the world that us human beings have built. God is telling us that nation will rise against nation, that people will rise against other people, that there will be dreadful portents. That, indeed things will get really bad. Now hear me clearly, I in no way think the election of Donald Trump (or if Hillary Clinton was elected) is a portent of the end of time. Our nation has a wonderful balance of power that protects us from any mistakes we may make. But what I do think---actually what I know---is that sometimes things have to fall apart, sometimes things have to feel hopeless, sometimes things must be so confusing and perhaps even terrifying that we’re willing to break down our walls—walls that we erected so long ago we may not even remember why we built them in the first place----and try something new. As Jesus tells us this morning we will be given an opportunity to testify—to testify on another way, a way beyond party lines, a way that doesn’t take sides, a way that doesn’t judge, a way that doesn’t use fear as a motivating factor. The way of Jesus Christ, a way of hope, a way of peace and a way of love. A way that follows the guidelines of our baptismal covenant to seek and serve Christ in all people---even those people with whom we have grave disagreements, even those people who judge us and condemn us based on the color of our skin, the country of our origin, the gender of our beloved, the name of our God. The way of Jesus Christ which directs us---commands us, actually--- to strive for justice and peace among all people---not just people who look like us, worship like us and vote like us. A way where we respect the dignity of every single human being. No exceptions. None. A way where we look at our brothers and sisters and strive to see the face of Christ.
This is a lot easier to proclaim than it is to actually do.
 Sometimes the hurt and the anger and the fear we feel blocks our view. Sometimes our pain is so great we simply don’t see Christ looking right back at us.
But what we know---what so many of you here at Grace have lived through-- is that if we let our pain and our fear and our anger continually block our view of the face of Christ on those around us, we will wither up and die.
You, the people of Grace Lockport are a shining example of what Jesus is teaching us with today’s Gospel----sometimes we need to be at the very brink of destruction before we can find the courage and the faith to move ahead. As I heard many of you say at the vestry retreat a couple months ago—if we don’t move ahead, we will die.
Grace Church is living resurrection life. You have been through some unbelievably difficult times, you have been hurt, you have been scared and you’ve been angry. But, through your faith in Jesus Christ, through your commitment to the Good News, through your dedication to making disciples, you are marching in the light of God toward a new heaven and new earth. In these days of discord and uncertainty in our wider civic life, I thank you, the people of Grace for showing us all a way forward.
For, as St. Paul tells us in today’s Epistle: Do not be weary in doing what is right.
May God continue to bless all of us and the good work of Grace Church, Lockport!


Amen.