I Believe in the Extraordinary Within the Ordinary Christmas Eve 2018 St Michael and All Angels, Buffalo

+I believe. Do you?
I believe that Jesus is God in the flesh, born of a peasant girl and her betrothed, Joseph.
I believe that this was an extraordinary birth in otherwise ordinary circumstances.
I believe that God chose to come among us in this way because God didn’t want to make a big splash.
 I believe God wanted to come to us in a whisper not a shout.
I believe God wanted to ease into living among us, as one of us.
And I believe we needed to be eased into having God among us, in the flesh.
I believe this was not something to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly. I believe this needed to be entered into cautiously and with restraint.
I believe that God came quietly to live among us, because I believe God really really wanted to know just what it was like to be human.
I also believe that God’s birth in the person of Jesus Christ was so extraordinary in its ordinariness that creation just couldn’t hold back in the restraint God intended.
I believe that the birth of Jesus in that barn was so glorious that the heaven’s opened up, angels descended and the stars shone extra brightly.
Just like it does for every birth.
Yes, I believe a heavenly host descends to earth singing the praises of a new life each and every time a baby is born. Why? Because each and every time a baby is born, it’s a miracle.

I believe that the gift of a new life, no matter what the circumstances, is an event deserving of awe and wonder.
Here’s what I know from my very limited study of biology but my extensive experience of walking the walk of pregnancy and birth with many friends, family members and parishioners. And what I know from my experience of walking the walk of wanting to be pregnant but not being able to conceive. And walking the walk of getting pregnant but not being able to stay pregnant:
Every single pregnancy that leads to a live birth is a miracle.
So much can go wrong, so much does go wrong. Delivering a healthy happy baby is a miracle. Each and every time.
So while we may not think that the world erupts into a chorus of Joy to the World each and every time a baby is born it may just be that we aren’t listening.
You see, Jesus being born to two ordinary people in a somewhat extraordinary circumstance is exactly how the Messiah, the Prince of Peace, Emmanuel, God in the flesh needed to come to us.
Because the sacred isn’t only the gold and shiny, the neat and tidy, and the all put together in colorful paper and ribbons.
The sacred isn’t only the glorious sunsets, it’s also the rain storms.
The sacred isn’t only the fabulous arias, it’s also the tinny tune of a tone deaf child
The sacred isn’t only on Christmas and Easter.
The sacred is every single day.
The sacred is Creation.
All of it.
The sacred is all that God has created, because all that God creates is beautiful, stunning and miraculous.
All that God creates is priceless…
All that God creates is holy…
And all that God creates is wonderful.
This is the wonder and the glory of this holy and blessed night: that God came to be among us in the skin and bones of humanity, in the dirt and dust of the wilderness, in the baying, baa-ing, mooing  and clucking of the donkeys, sheep, cows and chickens of that barn. That God came to be in the hearts and minds and souls of each and every one of us gathered here on this silent night.
I believe that God as Jesus Christ was born to Mary and Joseph and that this birth was revealed with a great heavenly host to shepherds tending their flock in a nearby field because God is in the ordinary and the mundane, as well as the extraordinary and the magnificent.
I believe that Jesus is born to Mary and Joseph each and every year so that maybe, just maybe, a few more people will come to believe that God loves us—US—so much God just can’t stay distant from us.
I believe in the miracle of Christmas, because I believe in the never-ending, all-encompassing love of God, a God who needed, absolutely positively needed to be with us, skin and bones, dirt and dust, baying and mooing and baaing.
I believe in Christmas everyday of every year.
So Merry Christmas today, Merry Christmas Tomorrow, Merry Christmas every single day of your lives.
I believe. Do you?
 Amen.

Mary is My Hero. Advent 4C St. Patrick's 12.23.18

Mary said “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” With this song of rebellion and revolution Mary solidifies herself as my hero. I love Mary.
Year in and year out, I am utterly blown away by the witness of Mary, the mother of Jesus, his first disciple, and the only person present at the birth, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus…Mary’s little boy.
I love Mary.  But not the Mary of adoration and mysticism. Not the “Holy Mother, ever blessed Virgin.” No, I love Mary, the young woman who was, by all accounts, a faithful servant, a good daughter and well…normal.
Mary was a simple young woman living an ordinary life when, suddenly, her life was turned on it’s ear after a visit from the angel Gabriel. [can you imagine her conversation with her mom and dad? With Joseph? “So….this guy Gabriel stopped by….]
Gabriel was an angel…and you need to know that I have a thing about angels. And not always good thing. I’m just not sure what to make of them.
First of all they have wings. I have no issue with birds flying around outside, far above my head, but when anything larger than a mosquito starts flying around my house, near me? I freak out.
So right there, angels kind of bug me.
And then there’s that whole thing about what an angel is…not human, not divine, but somewhere in between…. Just what is an angel?
All that being said, I do appreciate the role of angels in the history of our faith…but those flapping wings? I prefer my angels to look less like the flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz and more like Clarence from It’s a Wonderful Life. I am more comfortable with angels who look more like you and me and less like, well…angels….
So that’s why I’m pretty sure I would like Gabriel. I just have a sense that Gabriel would be a more regular type guy, regular enough that his initial appearance to Mary didn’t freak her out.
I envision Gabriel as fitting into the landscape of Mary’s world.
So when he appears at Mary’s door, or when he encounters her at the market or down by the river while she washed clothes or out back as she gathered pomegranates from the bushes, wherever it was that this encounter happened, Mary is receptive to him.
Mary receives the message he gives her, outrageous and fantastic as it sounds she says yes. [although my guess it was more , ‘errrr….ok……” than “Absolutley!”  Mary receives the message. Mary accepts the message. And then Mary waits. And wonders. And ponders.
Yes Mary is my hero because she was receptive to receiving the Word of God through the angel Gabriel.
Mary’s also my hero because not only did she accept the Word of God through Gabriel she literally BORE the Word of God. Mary, the God-Bearer, carried the incarnated God in her womb for nine months. The word of God grew within her until it could no longer be contained and it burst forth, changing the world. Forever.
And Mary’s my hero because after that birth she led the Lord of Lords and King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Messiah, her baby boy…through all the trials and tribulations of childhood.
She nursed him.
She weaned him.
She soothed him when he fell.
She encouraged him as he grew into his role, as he learned that he was, indeed
The Lord of Lords…. the Prince of Peace, the Messiah
And she was there when that role reached its necessary conclusion on that hilltop called Calvary, nailed to that tree.
Yes Mary bore the Word of God as her own flesh and blood and together with him she bore the slings and arrows, the jubilation and the joy of being God in the Flesh, Emmanuel.
But most of all, Mary is my hero because she said yes.
She is my hero because she was open to receiving God and when God asked, she said yes.
Would you? Would I?
How does God ask us to bear the Word of God? And when we are asked, do we say yes?
That’s our task during these days of incarnation, these days of a miracle birth in Bethlehem---to ask ourselves, how has God presented Godself to me? Has God come to us like Clarence?
Or like Gabriel?
Or has God come to us in the neighborhood child who could use a smile.
Or the elderly woman in the grocery store who cannot reach the top shelf?
Or the homeless and the hungry?
The destitute and the depressed?
The lost and the lonely?
Perhaps God has asked us to bear the Word of God while we stood in the voting booth, or while we decide where to spend our money, or when we know a friend or family member is in an abusive relationship.
Maybe God asks us to Bear God’s Word at all times. And in all places.
And maybe, maybe that’s the point of God coming to be among us in the first place…to show us, to teach us that bearing the Word of God is not a once in a lifetime thing, it’s a lifetime thing.
Mary is my hero because Mary’s life was spent, being the God-Bearer. In all that she was and in all that she did.
Let us all sing the song of Mary applying all of what it represents, all that she represents and apply it to who we are and to whom it is we wish to be.
Mary is my hero.
May she be yours, as well.
Amen.

Rejoicing for it all. Even the fleas. Adv 3C St Paul’s Springville December 16, 2018

+St Paul tells the Philippians: Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, Rejoice!
There are times, when I read this passage that I want to yell at Paul—"hey pal, easier said than done!”
Life isn’t easy.
All of us here have had our share of losses: deaths, unemployment, divorce, fear, disappointment. Just last week bomb threats affected schools and businesses here in WNY and across the country. We seem to be living on the edge, nervous, wondering what’s next. These are uncertain times.
It’s as if outside these doors we live in a season of worry and fretting rather than in a season of gratitude and rejoicing.
But then, every Sunday we approach this altar, we lay our burdens down and we rejoice and give thanks for the wonder that is the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ.
You see, this is the thing about being a follower of Jesus ---even in the worst of times, we gather around this altar and offer all that we are and all that we have in a great Thanksgiving of love and community. Amidst the encroaching darkness of this world we find light, we express hope, we experience joy.
But then we walk out these doors and run smack dab into a world that has seemingly gone mad.
It was the 6th anniversary of the school massacre at Sandy Hook this past Friday. And on that day, the newly rebuilt Sandy Hook school was placed on lockdown due to the threat of a gunman on the loose within the school.
On that same day a 7 year old girl traveling with her father is detained by the border patrol and somehow no one notices that she is in dire straits and she dies of dehydration and shock. 7 years old.
Our world is full of darkness, it can be hard to find the light.
Yet Paul says, rejoice. Rejoice!
And you know what, he is absolutely right.
For without hope, without joy, without gladness, how will we ever survive what’s happening in this world? We won’t. And that’s Paul’s point.
The Christians of Philippi were frazzled, frightened and fragmented; outsiders were trying to draw believers away from God, many Christians faced persecution.  Paul wanted them to know that, no matter how rotten things might seem, they would not be defeated.
Paul gives the Philippians and us the secret to finding joy and peace: Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is the dynamic, the spirit and the emotion that opens us up to joy and peace and hope.  Gratitude is the one emotion where we are truly focused not on ourselves, but on the gift and the giver. When in a spirit of thanksgiving, we turn ourselves toward God and toward Life and Light and Love.
Gratitude is a matter of perspective, it’s about what we focus on, what we pay attention to in our lives.  The folks I know who project gratitude regularly are the folks who make it a habit to pay attention to whatever is positive in their lives.
The grace of gratitude comes when we’re able to discipline ourselves to develop a healthy perspective, when we learn to be patient and to show our gentleness to everyone.  The grace of gratitude comes when we lose the assumption that life would be better without the obstacles, troubles and deprivations that come our way. Because even in the midst of all that pain, we find gratitude. It may be simple, it may feel fleeting, but it’s there.
Corrie Ten Boom, who with her family lived through the holocaust, often told the story of how she and her sister Betsy survived in a flea-ridden Nazi prison camp.  One day Betsy said “I have found something in the Bible that will help us.  It says, ‘In all things give thanks’.  Corrie said, “I can’t give thanks for the fleas.”  Betsy replied, “Give thanks that we’re together.  Most families have been split up. Give thanks that somehow the guards didn’t check our belongings and we have our Bible with us.”  Corrie gave thanks for that, but she would not even think of giving thanks for the fleas. But later, they found out that the only reason they were not abused by the guards was because their captors were so repulsed by the fleas that they wouldn’t even enter the sisters’ cell.  Corrie allowed as how this taught her to give thanks for all things, because within the greatest darkness lies a spark, maybe even just a sliver, of light…
Gratitude and thanksgiving are not simply about the easy and pretty places in our lives, rather they’re about accepting that all of life, even pain, sadness, grief and loss, is a precious, glorious gift, for so often what emerges from great sadness is new wisdom, greater strength, and overwhelming hope that even the fleas have something good to offer us!
My friends, the world is a chaotic, confusing and hurting place, but there is a way out of this mess. And it is about ready to arrive. A babe in a manger. The Prince of Peace who will, as John tells us in today’s Gospel ,teach us to share…to be kind… and to speak the truth. A babe in whom lies all our hope and all our joy.
How is it that we can rejoice in all things, even in the dark and painful and frustrating things? Because God so loved the world that God sent God’s only begotten Son to walk among us and to teach us that hope always defeats doubt, Light always overcomes darkness and Joy always emerges from despair.
It is Advent my friends, the hope of the world is about to be born Rejoice. Rejoice I say, Rejoice! Amen

Funeral Homily for Richard Cekalske 11.28.18

+St Paul says: So, we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day.
It was tough to witness Richard’s failing health these past few years. He was someone who’s outer nature was always moving, always heading toward the next adventure, not being able to do that, had to have been difficult.
Whether it was dancing---oh how he and Lorraine loved their dancing! ---or camping, boating, skiing, riding his motorcycle, Richard squeezed all that he could out of every moment.
He had that twinkle in his eye that suggested a mischievous side, a plan of action, a new adventure to embark upon, Richard was ready.
There may have been times when Richard began to lose heart, but it didn’t last. Why? Because Richard was always renewing---when sick Lorraine couldn’t keep him in bed because he wanted to check on his properties or tinker with his van or make one more trip to the casino---Richard always had places to go and people to see. As a matter of fact, just a few weeks before he died, as Lorraine was heading to work, he called out, “I want to come and help you, I want to volunteer.” His body was failing him, but his spirit was strong—he did not lose heart.
Richard made friends wherever he went---there is the story of the epic bus trip to Tennessee with the dance group. It began with Richard sharing his beloved strawberry pies with everyone and was topped off by, after he missed the tour bus departure to Pigeon Forge, Richard hitch-hiking to Pigeon Forge where, after he and the driver shared a great breakfast and became fast friends,  he miraculously found the group and joined the tour as if nothing at all had gone array!
That was Richard, from his BOLO tie, boots, various and sundry reading glasses strung around his neck ,to that twinkle in his eye, Richard loved meeting people, trying new things, having a good time. Richard loved.  And it showed.
Now if there is one thing, I can’t stand is a funeral homily that makes the deceased sound flawless. Richard had flaws. We all have flaws. But it was really difficult to stay mad at Richard. Because he was too funny, too quick with a laugh, too fast to lend a helping hand to stay mad.
As we hear in our readings today, anyone who hears Jesus’ word and believes in the One who sent him has eternal life, and does not come under judgement, but passes seamlessly from death to life.
Richard wasn’t a church goer, he wasn’t a man who spoke about his faith but let me tell you, he was a man who lived it.
You had to pay attention to see it, but it was there—once a panhandler asked Richard for money, and without missing a beat, Richard told the man he was working this side of the street, so the man needed to get off his turf. Richard then laughed that laugh of his and helped the man out. Richard normalized the situation, engaged the man in conversation and then offered him a helping hand. The last time I checked, that behavior fell under the category of respecting the dignity of every human being. Of loving your neighbor as yourself. As doing what it is Jesus would do.
    Once, about 6 years ago there was a priest and a deacon who always enjoyed seeing Richard. When Diocesan Convention was scheduled for Niagara Falls that year, Richard made a date with this couple to take them to the casino because he was fairly appalled that neither of them had ever been in one. Sure enough, Lorraine, Pete, Richard and I snuck out of convention and much to the chagrin of the Bishop, went across the street to play the slots. Richard took us under his wing showing us the ropes. It’s one of my fondest memories---not because I finally set foot in a casino, not because Pete actually won some money, no it’s one of my fondest memories because of Richard (and Lorraine’s) kindness and their delight in sharing with us something that brought them great joy.
My friends, that’s love. Sharing joy with others, bringing joy to others, wanting joy for others. That’s love.
I didn’t spend a lot of time with Richard, but whenever I did, I felt better for having done it, because when I spent time with him, I felt alive, I felt enthusiastic, I felt love.
I consider it one of the great honors of my priesthood that on the morning of his death I was able to offer him the prayers and the anointing of the church, sending him on his way to the fullness of life eternal.
I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the drawing of Jesus laughing. I have it on my fridge at home…Jesus has his head thrown back and he’s laughing a deep belly laugh, face full of delight. I have no doubt that when Richard took his final breaths early in the morning on October 15th, both he and Jesus threw their heads  back, laughing as they reminisced about an earthly life well-lived, now finished.
After the slight momentary affliction of illness and death, Richard entered the immeasurable, never ending, always glimmering glory of God, accompanied by all the saints in light.
Rest in peace Richard. Rest in Light, Rest in Laughter, Rest in love.
You’ve earned it.
Amen.

A King Unlike Any Other. Christ the King Sunday, 2018 St. Philip's , Buffalo

+Have you caught “Hamilton Fever” yet? All of this Hamilton hoopla reminded me of a wonderful theater experience I had many years ago when I saw the Lion King on Broadway. I was moved beyond belief when those incredible puppets walked down the aisle to open the show. But I was most taken by the Boy Who Would Be King, Simba. And it is his song,  “I Just Can’t Wait to be King,” that sets the stage for this our Celebration of Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday of the church year and a foreshadowing of the events of Holy Week.
Some of you may remember Simba singing “I Just Can’t Wait to Be King”---He’s just been told by his dad, Mufassa, that one day Simba, would be King. Thrilled by the news, Simba bounds about and runs smack dab into his scheming, evil Uncle, Scar.
[Simba:] I'm gonna be a mighty king! So enemies beware!
[Scar:] Well, I've never seen a king of beasts with quite so little hair
Scar is a bit incredulous as he looks at this little boy, working on his roar, waiting for his kingdom to come. Scar just can’t imagine him as King.
But Simba? Simba sure can:
“No one saying be there
No one saying stop that
No one saying see here
Free to run around all day
Free to do it all my way!
Oh, I just can't wait to be king!”
For lil’ Simba being King means not getting pushed around and finally being able to do whatever he wants.
       While, “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” is a conversation between a King wanna be and his doubtful Uncle, today’s Gospel reading is a conversation between a reluctant King and an even more reluctant, and confused and exasperated Governor—Pontius Pilate.
Today’s Gospel happens on the very first Good Friday. Jesus has spent the night in prison and Pilate is torn. He knows this Jesus is a bit odd, but still no real threat to the empire. On the other hand Jesus has stirred up a lot of passion in folks. And since the governor’s job was to keep the Empire’s massive machine of power running smoothly, offshoot movements were to be squelched…it seemed this Jesus movement was brewing into a rebellion so it needed Pilate’s attention.
Now Pilate was a man with some integrity-- he wasn’t going to sentence Jesus to death without good reason---so what we hear today is Pilate trying to find “cause.” If one were to claim they were King that would be “cause,” because there was only one King: the Emperor.
But, what makes a King (or a Queen, or an Emperor, or a Pharaoh) after all?
To hear Simba tell it, a King is The Boss. If you look it up, besides being the male monarch of an independent state, King is defined as a person or thing considered to be the best, the most important. In other words, Being King is pretty darn good….if your goal is to be the best, the big cheese, the most powerful. At the heart of this type of King is power and the problem is that most people who long for power, who will do anything to gain power are, at their core, afraid. Afraid of not having power. They don’t want others to have power because they are afraid they’ll be left out. They are less collaborative and more authoritarian. Their leadership style is one of intimidation rather than one of encouragement. Often those who hold a lot of power—kings and their ilk---spend a whole lot of time protecting their “right” to that power.
That said, anyone calling Jesus King is a big problem.  Pilate, knows that if Tiberius, the emperor, found out there was a King “wanna be” down in Jerusalem, he would FLIP OUT.
Pilate had to nip this in the bud.
But there’s a problem. This Jesus won’t say he’s King. He won’t say he wants to dethrone the emperor. You can’t even say Jesus was a reluctant King. Jesus was, simply put, a totally different kind of King.
        And therein lies the heart of this Christ the King Sunday. Christ is a totally different kind of King.
The rule of this God in the flesh is something unlike anything else we’ve ever known. If we forget that, if we look at Christ the King through the lens of this world---then we’ve missed the boat. Understanding just what Christ as King means is, in a way, our final exam of the church year.
    The reign of Christ as King is all about power. But not the power of Emperors, or Pharaoh or Queens, or Presidents or Prime Ministers.
The Reign of Christ as King is the power given to the downtrodden, the rejected, the sidelined and the outcast.
The Reign of Christ as King  is the power we hold in our hearts when we proclaim that we will respect the dignity of every creature of God, no exceptions.
The Reign of Christ as King is all about giving power to the disenfranchised. The Reign of Christ as King is about distributing power equitably and fairly.
The reign of Christ as King is about a world where everyone, even poor little Mary’s boy from Galilee, can take the Power of this world and turn it on its ear.
Simba couldn’t wait to be King. And neither can Christ. The difference though is that Simba became king in the old fashioned way, after the death of his father.
The only way Christ can take that throne, the only way Christ can be King of Kings and Lord of Lords is when all of us, each and everyone of us, gives up our focus on the power of this world and turn ourselves over to the power of the next.
It's not easy. It’s not comfortable. But, and hear this clearly, our very lives—the lives of this whole entire world---depends on us turning away from the darkness of this world and turn toward the light and the love of Christ’s world.
Christ can’t wait to be King be he needs us to get there.
Amen.

Finding Abundance in Scarcity, Joy in Despair and Light in Darkness: A Personal Sermon of Grief and Thanksgiving. November 18, 2018 (Thanksgiving Propers) St John’s Grace

+I have to be frank with you, writing a sermon based on the Thanksgiving Day propers was a challenge for me this year. It hasn’t been a terrific year. As a matter of fact it’s been the most painful, heart-wrenching and terrifying year of my life. I suppose I should be thankful that I have survived—that I am upright and functioning---but the effort it has taken to just get up and get out each and every day? Well, it required and requires strength I never knew I could muster.
But a sermon is not about the preacher. Or at least it shouldn’t be about the preacher.
But when I looked at the readings for today—the propers for Thanksgiving ---and tried to write a sermon that was only about abundance and gratitude and joy, I got nothing.
And then I realized that maybe, just maybe, what I’ve experienced and what I’ve learned is exactly what I need to say.
And what I’ve learned is this: throughout all that I have been through these past months, the intense grief associated with the death of my wife Pete, throughout all of it, God has been with me every step of the way.
When my eyes opened in the morning and the heart-breaking, gut-wrenching grief flooded my consciousness and all I could do was sob until I was all sobbed out, God was there.
When I was faced with decisions I needed to make, decisions that had two options: lousy and worse, God was there.
When I walked into the darkness of grief, the seeming hopelessness of grief, when I raged with anger toward everyone, everywhere, including and especially God.
God was there.
God wasn’t just there, God was in it, right smack dab in it, with me. Crying with me, raging with me, longing with me, God was there.
And God is with you, too.
So although (perhaps) a Thanksgiving sermon should be about gratitude for all the good, abundant things in our lives, I can’t ignore the fact that sitting in these pews this morning, walking those streets outside the doors this morning, sitting around Thanksgiving Dinner Tables this Thursday are people experiencing intense grief and loss and fear and doubt and anger and sadness. How does one preach an attitude of gratitude to those people…to people like me, people like some of you?
How do we provide a word of hope to this increasingly dark and lonely world? How do we live in abundance when dignity and respect and joy seem to be in such short supply?
Because we do. Because we must. Because we have and because we will.
Why? Because we are Christians and Christians are people who find life in death, who find wholeness in brokenness, who find peace in terror.
And we always have.
From the horrors of living through the exile comes the words of Joel:
“Do Not Fear, O Soil, Be Glad and rejoice,” says Joel to a land that had been ravaged by drought and pestilence. Why should that soil rejoice? Because the fields will again be green, the trees will again bear fruit, the threshing floors will again be full of grain.
Because somehow out of loss and change, out of sorrow and bitterness, comes a new life. Not a resuscitated life that moves us along the same path we’ve always been on, but a resurrected life, a brand new life, a different life, a life that may not take us where we expected or planned to go, but a life that will indeed take us to exactly where it is we need to go.
Why? Because as we read in Timothy: God our Savior desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.
And just what is that truth?
That God is with us. Always and in everything.
Even the darkness. Even the sorrow. Even the intractable grief, even in the worry, and the anger.
God is with us.
God was with the Israelites in exile as they sowed their lives with tears and God was with them when they reaped their new life with songs of joy.
       My friends, I don’t know what you have an abundance of this year---my prayer is that you have an abundance of joy and gratitude for the great and good fortune you have experienced. May you praise God for all of those good things and may you give out of your abundance to those who need a helping hand.
I also don’t know who among you may be feeling more scarcity than abundance, more fear than joy, more despair than hope, more bitterness than thanksgiving. But I do know what that feels like, I do know what it is to walk that walk and for you-- for all of us--- I have this message:
God is with you. God has been with you, God will be with you. For God does not only reside in the hearts of the joyful, but also, and maybe even more especially, in the hearts of the not so joyful.
God resides there with you so that when your sowing with tears ends, God can lead you in the reaping with songs of great joy.
      A Preacher is not to preach about herself, but sometimes, sometimes, that’s all you can do.
Thank you for indulging me and may you too find abundance in scarcity, joy in sorrow and light amid the darkness. As you go out of this place into your own lives with your own challenges and victories, with your own joy and sorrow remember this:  our loving, life-giving, liberating and abundant God loves us more than we can ever ask or imagine. And for that we say Alleluia and Amen.

The Rose Doesn’t Know Fear. Proper 25B Trinity Church, Buffalo 21 October 2018

What happened to tolerance? To embracing difference? To the Golden rule? To Love?
When did we become such a me first, I’m the best, we’re the greatest, supersize it, it’s huuuuuge culture? When did bigger and louder become synonymous with the best? And when did being the best go from being the result of hard work to the result of knocking those around us down? Demeaning them in an effort to build ourselves up? Hating more and Loving less? Somewhere we have lost our way, somewhere we’ve become driven by fear instead of hope, hate instead of love.
Perhaps it’s where we find our culture today that leads to the “make the disciples great for eternity” tone of James and John in this morning’s reading from Mark’s gospel, so jarring.
But I really don’t think James and John were that narcissistic…I think they were that unmoored and terrified by what was happening in their world.
In the previous few verses of Mark’s gospel, verses that lead us to our excerpt for this morning, Jesus predicts his death three times.
The boys are freaked out and who can blame them? It’s a lot easier to be full of bravado when standing in the broad shadow of Jesus, it’s a whole other thing to think about carrying on without him physically leading the way.
They’re scared. Their world is being turned upside down and inside out. And they’re desperate to make sure they’ll have a place at the table when it all comes crashing down. They’re afraid. And fear makes us do all sorts of unattractive and destructive things.
I think this is why all this “Make us Great Again, I am right and anyone who says I’m wrong is lying, fake, weak, and worthless” rhetoric has gained a foothold in our world today. We’re scared.
And when scared we become insular and reactive. When we become insular and reactive we jockey for some position of false security--- James and John looking for power in paradise ---and in our own time letting the slogans of a separatist, dog eat dog, the only way to get ahead is to knock others down movement become the narrative of our country.
Today’s American narrative is the same narrative as the Roman Empire in the time of Jesus. The Haves will do anything to ensure that the Have Nots remain separated, shut down, and silenced.
Why? Because change is terrifying. The unfamiliar is threatening, the new is not to be trusted.
But, and this is what Jesus is teaching us, it’s what Mary Oliver is reflecting in her poetry, it’s what I’m sure Matt preaches week in and week out.
The way of Christ, the way of faith is a way of Love.
Which is great. But, Love isn’t exactly predictable. Love  has a tendency to cause us to do things we never thought we could or would do. Love has a tendency to open our hearts to compassion and sensitivity unlike anything else in our lives. Love makes us the best version of ourselves. But love is also wild and unpredictable and untamed. Love, when set loose, turns our world upside down and inside out.
To trust such an out of control, unpredictable emotion goes against our human desire for control.
But, when we do trust it we become eneveloped in  the perfection of God.
You see, when we walk the way of love, when we follow the teachings of Jesus we will defeat the powers of darkness and evil in our world.
What Jesus is challenging James and John with what Jesus is challenging us with today is this:
Can we move forward in Love?
Many of us want to counteract the hateful narrative of our national discourse by screaming louder, by marching farther, by beating the ruling class at their own game.
When will we learn?
Shouting louder never works.
An eye for an eye never works.
Violence never works.
Intolerance never works.
There is only one thing that works.
Love.
The Bishop of West Louisiana, Jake Owensby says it this way:
“We struggle to get our hearts around this way of living. That’s not surprising. Jesus’s first disciples didn’t exactly catch on all at once, either. James and John wanted to be at the head of the table. You know, higher up than everybody else. Jesus had good news for them and bad news for them. Nobody would have a higher place at the table than them. But, then again, their place would be no higher than anybody else’s. The table, as it turns out, is round.”

Often when someone came to Jesus to ask a tough question or to plead for his help, we’re told that Jesus looked at them and loved them. He didn’t yell at them or dismiss them or belittle them or even lecture them. He loved them.
Right now in our world we have hate and fear and intolerance staring us in the eye. We can battle back with our own version of hate and fear and intolerance or we can learn from our teacher and stare back with Love.  
God’s love, Jesus’ love restores, renews, and remakes this violent, prejudiced and greedy world into a place of peace and equity and safety for all.
And it does it through us: one kind, peaceful, respectful and above all else, loving act at a time.
May we go out into the world staring down the fear and intolerance looking back at us with the love of our Creator as given to us through our teacher of all things, Jesus Christ. For when we do that, this world, our world, will become like the rose in Mary Oliver’s poem never knowing and therefore never being influenced by fear. Amen.