Articles written by the Reverend Patrick A. Campbell, often reflecting on the week’s Scripture readings.
May 31, 2020
The past week has been difficult. This morning (May 29) the news left me heartsick. After the horror of George Floyd killed by a police officer in Minneapolis, MN the city erupted with protests. Militarized police used rubber bullets and tear gas against protesters. Some vandalized and looted businesses and set fire to a police station. Prosecutors have not said if charges will be filed against the officers. This follows several news accounts of people of color being killed or harassed while engaged in innocent everyday activities.
The pandemic is a backdrop for it all. Horrific statistics show communities of color bear the brunt of suffering and death from the virus. Communities of color are more likely to work in service industries while those with privilege work in safety from home.
At the Vestry meeting this past Wednesday night we reaffirmed our commitment to racial reconciliation work. While put on hold with the suspension of in-person worship and gatherings, we are praying and talking about how we can continue our work even while distanced. As it says in the Catechism, “The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ” (Book of Common Prayer, p. 855).
Not only is the work of reconciliation a mandate from Jesus, but events in our nation continue to show the need. It is time for white church to learn its history of white supremacy and actively work to dismantle this nation’s systemic racial injustice.
As followers of Jesus, we are called to build the beloved community, a community that makes no peace with oppression and actively works for justice. Our call is live the way of love. This is the way of Jesus, a way where no one exercises power over another, no person is expendable, all people are valued and loved, and humble loving service is practiced. In this community all are welcome in the fullness of their identity and personhood. All people are valued for who they are.
One year ago I visited the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. Created by the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI) in downtown Montgomery, AL, its six acres are a memorial to the more than 4,000 people who experienced racial terror lynchings between 1877 and 1950 in the US.
On the grounds of the Memorial are several haunting sculptures. One, by Hank Willis Thomas called Rise Up (2016) has these words at its base: “Black and brown people in the United States often are presumed dangerous and guilty when they have done nothing wrong. Our history of racial inequality has created conscious and unconscious bias that has resulted in racial discrimination against people of color by law enforcement and the criminal justice system. Police shootings of unarmed men, women, and children, racially biased and excessive sentencing of people convicted of crimes, and abusive police conditions make mass incarceration a dominant issue for the poor and people of color.”
As we celebrate the festival of Pentecost on Sunday, may we implore the Holy Spirit to open our hearts, minds, and wills to God’s call to be agents of reconciliation in our neighborhood, nation, and church. May the Spirit plant within us a restlessness and thirst for the dismantling of systemic oppression and the creation of a just society. By the Spirit’s power this can be a nation where all are safe, valued, and thrive. Like those first 120 followers of Jesus on the Day of Pentecost, may we be lit afire by the Spirit’s passion that we turn the known world upside down, setting it right by God’s loving justice.
May 24, 2020
A sermon for the Seventh Sunday of Easter: The Sunday after Ascension Day. The scripture lessons are found here.
When reading a passage of scripture, it can be helpful to pay attention to a word or phrase that gets your attention. Noticing and reflecting on this word can be fruitful. Doing so with today’s passage from the Gospel according to John, one word in particular caught my attention. The word “glory” is used several times. It is also found in the Collect of the Day and our Epistle today.
“Glory” is a word we use a lot in the church. In the Daily Office, which includes the services of Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer, we conclude the recitation or chanting of the Psalms with, “Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit…” In the Eucharist we sing the Gloria, that text based on the song of the angels to the shepherds in Bethlehem, “Glory to God in the highest.” Some of our prayers ascribe glory to God and seek to glorify God’s holy Name.
Glory is a word also used in non-church settings, too. Glory is the praise and honor bestowed by people on an individual. One can attain glory through an achievement others recognize and celebrate. This kind of glory is understood as deserved by the person on whom it is bestowed. It is something they earned through their achievements. Often this glory grants them honorifics, such as special treatment, financial gain, or media attention. This earthly glory is typically focused on the individual and feeds their ego.
In the Gospel according to John the word “glory” means something quite different. Jesus is glorified because he is worthy of praise and worship. He has achieved great things for us and should be praised and honored. On this Sunday after Ascension Day, we celebrate Jesus taking our human flesh into heaven, to reign at the right hand of the Father. As our Savior, Jesus is worthy of our praise, he is worthy of being glorified.
Though glorified, Jesus does not use his glory for his own gain, to feed his ego. He does not embrace glory for his own sake. He rejects the pride and vanity that is so often at the heart of human glory. The glory of Jesus reflects the glory of the Father and is shared with his followers. It is not his alone, but is rooted in relationship.
Our Gospel today is from the last part of Jesus’ Farewell Discourse at the Last Supper. This discourse concludes with a prayer Jesus makes to the Father. What we hear today is a part of his prayer, and is sometimes called his High Priestly prayer.
In it we have the privilege of hearing Jesus use words that express his intimacy with the Father. In his prayer, Jesus makes intercession to the Father for humanity. Praying just hours before he is betrayed, arrested, and crucified, his prayer expresses his strong hope for his disciples after he leaves them.
The glory of Jesus points not to himself, but to the glory of the Father. He and the Father are one. Jesus does not act on his own, for himself alone. What he has done in his earthly life and ministry is the work the Father gave him to do.
Jesus asks to be glorified with “the glory [he] had before the world existed.” At the beginning of John’s Gospel, in the beautiful words of the Prologue, we are told the “Word was with God and the Word was God” (John 1:1). Jesus is the Word, present at the creation of the world, dwelling as a human creature within the creation. After his resurrection Jesus takes his human flesh with him, ascending bodily into heaven, and returning to the glory that is his as the second Person of the Trinity.
Jesus prays we know God. Knowing God is not only about intellectual knowledge. It is about being in relationship, knowing God because we spend time with God in prayer and worship. Knowing God is having an experience of God, it is trusting God because we have a relationship with God. And ultimately knowing God is about love.
As he washes his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper, Jesus gives them a new commandment. He commands them to love one another as he loves them. His own glory is found in this love. His is a love defined by humble service and is seen most clearly in his cross.
The glory of Jesus is expressed in loving without reserve and without counting the cost. On the cross Jesus loves so deeply, he does not resist those who kill him. He doesn’t run from his suffering. He doesn’t fight his persecutors. Even while he is dying, he continues to love, forgiving those who crucify him.
To know the Father and the Son is to know the truth, the truth that God is love. Love is not just an attribute of God, but is the very identity of God. Through baptism we are incorporated into the identity of God, literally putting on Christ as our own identity. Doing so, we participate in the divine love of God. We are defined and identified by the love of God that forms, shapes, and holds us.
The glory of Jesus, the glory that he shares with the Father, he also shares with us. It is the glory of living by love. This love does not seek its own gain, it does not consider one person to be more important than another, it excludes no one. This is love not predicated on emotion, on how we feel toward another person. It does require reciprocity to be given. This love is given to all, not only to those who return it.
It is love given simply because all people are children of God. It is love freely given because God freely bestows it on us. This is love that regards ourselves and others through the selfless, emptying divine love of God made visible in Jesus.
Though Jesus ascends into heaven, and is not physically present with us, his love continues to abide with us. By the indwelling of the Holy Spirit Jesus is with each of us. The Holy Spirit brings us into all truth, keeping alive the message and call of Jesus in our hearts. The Spirit leads us in the way of love, showing us how we are live the love of Jesus, how we are to make him known in our world through our words and deeds.
Through the Spirit, we are one with Jesus, we are connected to him. By the Spirit we enter into the divine life of the Trinity. In this divine life we share, even now, in eternal life. Though living here on earth, eternal life is a present reality for those who are one with Jesus. His followers are called to make the love of eternity real now.
In our lesson from the Acts of the Apostles we heard the account of Jesus ascending into heaven. After Jesus is taken from the disciples, suddenly two men in white robes appear and ask them why they stand looking up into heaven. After being asked this, they return to the city and devote themselves to prayer until the descent of the Holy Spirit ten days later.
We too must not stand still, looking up into heaven. We are called to turn our gaze outward. In looking around we can see the need in our world. We can observe the places we are called to go in the name of God’s love. We are sent by Jesus to make heaven real here now, in this place. We follow the Spirit to witness to God’s love. The Spirit shows us those whom we are called to serve in love, and give us the gifts needed to do the acts of love God calls us to undertake.
There has been much talk this week about churches in Rhode Island reopening. The Governor made the surprise announcement churches may reopen May 30. This is at least a month earlier than in her original plan. While we are all anxious to return to Sunday worship in person, gathered physically as a community, I believe we need to be cautious and intentional in how we proceed. Opening too soon will mean sickness and possibly death for others or ourselves.
Whether in person or virtually online, God will be worshipped by us each week. God’s name will be praised and glorified by us. It is important to wisely evaluate how soon we can safely gather physically. It is also important to examine our motives in a hasty reopening. We must be certain we act for the common good and the well being of all people. We must always act from love.
The glory of Jesus that he shares with us, rests on the love he has for us. The depths of his love are shown in his offering on the cross. On the cross, Jesus puts aside his well-being and allows himself to be killed. He sacrifices his life for love. We too, are called to live by love, a love shown in offering ourselves in service to others. Since March 15 our love has been lived by staying apart, sacrificing much for the well-being of all.
We live in a challenging time. We long to leave our homes and experience the joy of community. We desire to celebrate the Eucharist together in this building, receiving the precious Body and Blood of Jesus in the sacrament of the altar.
Though our challenges are real and our longings deep, may we remain cautious and be intentional, acting always from love for our neighbor. May all decisions we make be based on our love of others and in service of the common good.
In our Epistle today, we are urged to “Cast all [our] anxiety on [God], because he cares for you.” In all we experience, all the burdens we carry, God remains with us. God loves us and cares for us. Though we are a community kept apart in this time, the Spirit of God flows between us, uniting us even now. God will sustain us in all we find difficult now, and in the weeks to come. May we know God is with us, Jesus has not abandoned us, but abides with us through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.
Through the Spirit we are one with Jesus, marked as his own for eternity. As his body in the world, may all we do be rooted in the love of God. May the glory of Jesus, revealed in our humble loving service, shine through our lives and bring glory to God. Through loving one another we are witnesses to all of the power of God’s love. In this God is glorified. Amen.
May 17, 2020
A sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter. the scripture lessons are found by click here.
The French mathematician, physicist, and theologian Blais Pascal wrote that all people seek happiness, and do so in various ways. But Pascal believed there was only one path that led to true happiness, one way to satiate the deep hunger and longing within humanity, and that was the path to God. Nothing else in all creation will do so. As Pascal said, “But these are all inadequate, because the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God…” [Pensee 425, http://www.leaderu.com/cyber/books/pensees/pensees-SECTION-7.html]
We, like the whole of creation, are created by God. God plants within us a deep desire for relationship with God. We are incomplete without God. Without deep connection with God we wander, looking for what will complete us. But as St. Augustine said in his Confessions, “for You have made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” [http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/110101.html] There is no rest for the human soul apart from God. We only understand who we are in relation to God.
In our Lesson today from the Acts of the Apostles, Paul has traveled to Athens and finds a people who are hungry and searching. Acts tells us the Athenians spend all their time in “telling or hearing something new.” They are restless. When Paul preaches Jesus crucified and raised from the dead, they find something new and some want to hear more.
This is Paul’s first time in Athens. It is a university town, the seat of learning and philosophy. The people are also very religious. Paul sees many shrines to idols in the city. He, of course, rejects these idols as human creations, made by human hands, not real gods.
Rather than criticizing the Athenians for their idols, Paul listens to them. In conversation with them he hears how curious they are in their search for truth. He hears how they are seeking and searching for God. Paul doesn’t judge them, but looks for a way to preach Jesus to them, in a way they can hear.
Paul finds this in the very thing that most concerns him: the many shrines to idols. For among them, Paul sees one dedicated to “an unknown God.” This is Paul’s opening. This altar is his way to meet them where they are. Paul tells those listening he sees how religious they are, how they are searching for the truth. In their quest, they even have an altar to a god they may not know, either through ignorance or because they overlooked this god.
Paul explains that he knows this unknown God. Paul boldy suggests that it is Jesus they search for. In Jesus their deepest longings will be satisfied. Paul knows the people of Athens have failed to find what they long for, so he proclaims the risen Jesus as the answer to their restlessness.
Paul preaches that God is not like their idols, because God is not made with human hands. Rather, God created everything that is, including humanity. Using one of their own sayings from Greek thought, Paul tells them that God is not far away, but is close, in fact so close, God is the One in whom they “live and move and have our being” — a phrase that we still use today. Paul tells the Athenians we are God’s offspring and in Jesus, who was raised from the dead, will we be judged righteous.
After much groping and searching, Jesus is the One for whom the Athenians seek and search. Paul assures them that in Jesus their deepest longings are met. In him their restlessness will be quieted. Not all are persuaded by Paul’s preaching. But Acts tells us some became believers because of Paul’s witness, including a man named Dionysius and a woman named Damaris.
What Paul found true of the Athenians, is true of our own age. Like the Athenians we too have within us a longing, the “infinite abyss” of Pascal, the restlessness experienced by St. Augustine. In our time this deep longing can lead a person to pursue wealth, or to follow consumerism — filling the empty space in life with money and possessions. Food and drink are also used to satiate us.
But these will never ultimately fill us. They will not satisfy. They leave us wanting more, still restless and searching. It is only in Jesus we find our deepest longings met, where our deep places of emptiness are filled. In Jesus the barren places of our lives bloom with verdant growth. Those places where we are parched and dry, Jesus brings streams of living water. It is only in union with the One who made us, with God alone, that we find ourselves complete.
In today’s Gospel the disciples are concerned they will lose their connection with Jesus. They fear all he has brought to their lives will be lost, that they will be left desolate and alone.
This passage is from John’s account of the Last Supper, known as the Farewell Discourse. At that meal, the disciples hear Jesus will die and be taken from them. They will betray and deny him. They will abandon him. This is not the serene and holy final meal we might like to imagine. No wonder Jesus tells them, as we heard last week, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” Their hearts are likely very troubled by this time.
Jesus reassures them, “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.” Though he will be taken from them soon, they will not be without him. If they love him and keep his commandments, he is with them. His commandment, given earlier at the Last Supper when Jesus washed their feet, is to love one another as he loves them. In loving others, Jesus is present with them. He who is Love, is present with them when they love others.
Jesus also assures them he is the answer to their deep longings. In him they will find their fulfillment, they will be complete. Just as the Father and Jesus are one, so they will be one with him. Just as the Father abides in Jesus, so will Jesus abide in them, and they will be one with the Father. They are one with him. In him they are complete, finding the fullness of life God intends.
After Jesus is gone and not physically with them, they will receive the Holy Spirit sent by God. Just as Jesus is sent by God to them, so God sends the Holy Spirit upon them. The Spirit is the Spirit of Truth. It is the abiding presence of Jesus with them. While no longer physically with them, Jesus is with them in a personal and intimate way, dwelling within each of them, leading them into all truth, filling all their barren and empty places with love.
It is fitting we read this Gospel today. On Thursday we celebrate Ascension Day. Appearing to his disciples for forty days after his resurrection, Jesus then ascends into heaven. Jesus takes our humanity to dwell with God. Jesus goes the way we will one day follow.
But in leaving, Jesus does not abandon us. The Holy Spirit is poured upon us. The abiding presence of God with us, the Spirit draws us into the divine life of God. The Spirit connects us with Jesus though he is not physically with us. Through the Spirit, he dwells within us of each, and is at work in us, connecting us to the divine life of God.
I find the promise of the abiding presence of Jesus a great comfort in these days. It is a reminder that the Spirit is at work in us. Though we try to fill our restlessness and longing for God with things, not God, the Holy Spirit is at work in us. The Spirit leads us into all truth, gently — or even not so gently — by nudging us on the path we should walk, guiding us to the path that leads to God.
It is also comforting that though Jesus has ascended far above the earth, sitting at the right hand of God, yet he remains as close as our breath. Through the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit, Jesus is with us. Though we might feel alone, abandoned or orphaned by him, Jesus never leaves us — whether we sense his presence or not.
And, perhaps most comforting in these days of pandemic, the Holy Spirit abides not only with each of us, but also unites us to one another. The Spirit flows between us, bridging the distance of our physical separation, uniting us as one body. The Spirit continues to build us into the body of Christ in this time and place, until the day we can gather together physically in this place.
God created us with the deep need and longing for relationship with God. God also gave us the gift of free will, allowing us to pursue many paths in assuaging that longing. Thankfully, God gives us the gift of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Spirit of Truth, who abides with us, and leads us into communion with God.
Jesus promises he will never abandon us. If we love him, he abides in us and we in him. In loving others, we know the One “in whom we live and move and have our being.” Even in this time of challenge and separation, Jesus remains with us. His abiding presence in the Holy Spirit will lead us into the fullness of life he intends for us. Through baptism we share in his death and also share in the promise of resurrection to life eternal. In Jesus is found the fullness of life God intends for us. Amen.
May 10, 2020
A sermon for the Fifth Sunday of Easter. The scripture readings may be found here.
Each Sunday in Eastertide the scripture lessons tell how the first followers of Jesus lived after his resurrection. Early in the season they are about their first experiences of Jesus raised from the dead and their reaction to this life-changing reality. Common in these stories is confusion, fear, and bewilderment, all mixed with joy.
In the later weeks of Eastertide the mood shifts, and we see how things change after the Day of Pentecost. Filled with the power and gifts of the Holy Spirit, the followers of Jesus are no longer confused. They show great strength and courage. They live, and die, like Jesus. They are witnesses to his life and to his death, and live rooted in the power of his resurrection.
This week our lesson from the Acts of the Apostles tells about the death of Stephen. The first martyr (from a Greek word meaning “witness”), Stephen is killed for his faithful witness of Jesus. His story takes up all of chapters six and seven of Acts.
Today we hear just the very end of his story. The background to today’s passage is that Stephen is one of seven men of good standing, full of the Holy Spirit, who are appointed to care for those in need. They are the first deacons. Stephen is described as “full of grace and power,” one who “did great wonders and signs among the people.”
Preaching Jesus crucified and risen from the dead without ceasing gets Stephen into trouble with the authorities. They tell lies about Stephen and turn the people against him. When the High Priest questions Stephen, he delivers a beautiful and impassioned sermon — stretching over 51 verses. His preaching so enrages the authorities, they “grind their teeth at him.” They are so angry, they kill him.
Stephen is filled with the Holy Spirit, and while he is stoned has a vision of the risen Jesus standing at the right hand of God. Before he dies, he asks Jesus to receive his spirit. He does not despair. He doesn’t curse those who kill him. Instead, he sees the risen Jesus and asks Jesus to receive him when he dies.
Stephen also forgives those who kill him. He asks, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” While recognizing they commit sin by murdering him, he does not condemn them, but instead prays for them. Like Jesus on the cross, he has compassion and mercy toward his persecutors.
Stephen’s martyrdom begins a severe persecution of the Jerusalem church. The followers of Jesus scatter for safety, leaving the city. But they do not hide. They don’t shrink from the work God has given them to do. Like Stephen, they continue to preach and teach, bringing the good news of Jesus to new locations, to people who have never heard of Jesus.
Stephen, and the first followers of Jesus, experience a strong connection between the death and resurrection of Jesus and their lives. They understand just as Jesus is brought from death to resurrection life, so are they. No power on earth is a match for God’s love. Though their bodies may be harmed, even killed, they are safe in God for eternity. The resurrection of Jesus sets them free to boldly witness to the power of God’s love, without fear, without counting the cost, even able to give their lives in witness, as martyrs. They live absolutely trusting the Easter victory of Jesus over the powers of sin and death will be theirs.
This allows the first disciples to remain faithful in difficult times. They are open to God at work in them, so even in times of struggle God can use them to accomplish God’s purposes. Stephen, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, sees the risen Jesus standing at the right hand of God and is sustained to witness to God’s love while he suffers and dies. Focusing on Jesus in his time of trial, he is able to love without reserve, praying for those who kill him, asking they be forgiven. He trusts Jesus is at his side, ready to receive his spirit when he dies.
As follows of Jesus many centuries later, we too are called to be filled by the Holy Spirit. Opening ourselves to the gifts of the Spirit, we are to see the risen Jesus in our midst. And we too are called to be witnesses, to tell what we see of Jesus, what we experience of our risen Lord, witnessing to his love. Through our witness others may know the power of God’s love in the resurrection of Jesus. Through our witness others may be sustained in their struggles.
This week I read that our greatest growth often comes during times of great challenge and struggle. While not specifically written about a time of pandemic, it made me think of the present. This certainly is a challenging time. Perhaps this is the greatest challenge of our lives. I find it comforting it may also be the time of greatest growth for us, that there is opportunity in this time.
There certainly is great suffering all over the world. Many people are ill, so many have died. We live with uncertainty and fear, worrying for our well-being and that of others. Many people have lost employment and suffer economic loss. Food banks have greater demand than before. Health care professionals risk their lives, as do other “essential workers” such those working in grocery stores.
The pandemic has exposed in starkly obvious ways the great inequity and institutionalized oppression of our society. Health care and economic opportunities are not enjoyed by all. One’s race determines the likelihood of being able to work at home. People of color in our nation are disproportionally affected by the virus.
Seeing such disparities in such an obvious way is an opportunity for important and necessary systemic changes needed in our nation — changes many have ignored for a long time.
Even for those of us who are healthy, this is a time of challenge and anxiety. It is challenging working or learning from home. We know grief because we can’t gather in this church to worship God, and are unable to receive the Eucharist when we most desire it.
Yet in this time of great challenge there is the opportunity for growth. Unable to worship together in person, we are learning how to pray and worship at home more intentionally. Several of you have told me you are discovering new parts of our Book of Common Prayer, finding inside it a wealth of prayers and services.
Our online worship is viewed by more people than would attend on Sunday in person. Churches around the country are reaching many more people, sharing the good news of the risen Jesus in a time it is most needed.
This week I have heard several stories of people having conversations with their neighbors—something that has not happened previously—even meeting their neighbors for the first time. Neighborhoods are becoming places of relationship and connection as our physical world becomes smaller.
The group of parishioners who called everyone in the Redeemer community spoke of the blessing in hearing the voices of parishioners they can’t see right now. These calls made real the grief of separation, but also highlighted our connection as a community, and just how blessed we are to be with one another in this parish.
I find myself moved in profound ways by the wonder of creation, as spring comes into glorious flower. Being home so much, I have appreciated watching a robin build a nest above a neighbor’s door, and I marvel at how she patiently sits on her eggs.
And this is a time we are discovering what is truly important in life; how necessary and holy are the relationships we have with one another. With the gift of time and detachment we are discerning the truly important priorities in life, and asking how will we be more intentional as we live day by day.
Though this is a time of anxiety, hardship, and grief, it is also an opportunity for growth. It is a time to trust in God, to be open to the promptings of the Spirit, even for doing God’s work now, witnessing to what we see and experience of the risen Jesus. It is time to care for a world in need.
In our Gospel today Jesus tells the disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” He says this at the Last Supper, in what is known as his Farewell Discourse. Jesus is preparing his disciples for his departure. He is about to be killed and after his resurrection he will not be with them as he has been. He assures them they will be okay, because he does not leave them entirely.
Jesus will send them the Holy Spirit. His abiding presence will be with them. Though physically apart from them, Jesus will be with them in the Spirit, abiding and dwelling within them. Their relationship with Jesus will change, but it will not end. And one day Jesus promises they will be together again.
Jesus reassures his followers he is going to prepare a place for them with plenty of rooms. Jesus will bring them to dwell with him for eternity. Though he leaves them, he does not abandon them. And they will be with him at the last — for eternity.
This day Jesus also says to us, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” Do not be worried or anxious. Jesus is with us still. The same Holy Spirit bestowed on his first followers rests on us. Jesus is with us still, abiding with each of us.
The same Spirit that filled Stephen at his martyrdom, fills us, allowing us to gaze on the risen Jesus in our midst, fixing our sight on him, not taking our eyes off him, following him in the way he leads.
The same Spirit that empowered the first followers to witness to the risen Jesus is with us, giving us strength to tell the good news of Jesus through our words and our deeds, loving and forgiving, caring for those in need.
And the Holy Spirit is with us in this time of challenge, bringing from the uncertainty and grief, new opportunity and new life. The Spirt abides with us, giving us hope, and showing us new ways to be God’s people in this challenging time and in this place.
As the Collect of the Day reminds us today, truly knowing Almighty God is eternal life, it is union with the divine life of the Trinity. May God grant us to “perfectly know” Jesus to be “the way, the truth, and the life” that we steadfastly follow him in the way he leads. For he is the way to life with God for ever.
May 3, 2020
A sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter, May 3, 2020. The scripture lessons may be found here.
What a difference a few weeks makes! The past Sundays we have seen the disciples of Jesus struggle to understand his resurrection. The first Easter morning they fail to understand what has happened. The afternoon of that first Easter two walk on the road, full of grief, discussing the terrible things done to Jesus, things they witnessed. The first Easter night they are hiding behind locked doors, afraid they will be killed like Jesus.
Though in all these stories the risen Jesus comes among his followers, showing the wounds of his passion, talking with his disciples, bestowing his peace and the Holy Spirit on them, they do not know what to make of Jesus risen from the dead.
Jesus appears to his followers for forty days. During those days Jesus instructs and teaches them. After he leaves them, the Holy Spirit comes among his disciples on the first Pentecost and they are forever changed.
By the power and gifts of the Holy Spirit they leave behind their fear, doubts, and confusion. Filled with the Spirit, they journey to the ends of the earth, proclaiming Jesus crucified and risen. They do the works of Jesus, caring for those in need, healing the sick, even raising the dead. These first followers of Jesus are hardly recognized as the same people seen that first Easter.
We see evidence of their transformation in our lesson from the Acts of the Apostles. This New Testament book, really a continuation of Luke’s Gospel, tells what happens to the disciples of Jesus after his ascension and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.
Today’s passage tells us, “Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” They are conformed to the teaching of Jesus as handed down by Peter and the other apostles. Their lives are conformed to the teaching of Jesus and they become his witness, living as Jesus did in his earthly life and ministry.
They are faithful in celebrating the Eucharist, the “breaking of the bread and the prayers.” Like Jesus, they own nothing, instead selling all their possessions and goods, and pooling their resources. The funds raised by selling their property are held in common by the community, and as any has need, they are cared for.
These first followers of Jesus “ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people.” They are thankful for what they have been given by God, and in response, they praise God with thankful hearts and have goodwill toward all people, caring for others in their need.
After the resurrection of Jesus and receiving the power of the Holy Spirit, the followers of Jesus are dramatically changed and transformed. They leave behind the ways of the world, giving up their possession, and live in community with other Christians. They reject the ways of greed and violence by which the world is governed. They do not despair, but offer the good news of profound hope and deep joy found in the power of Jesus’ resurrection.
I regularly save articles and quotes I come across, thinking they may be useful in a sermon one day. Periodically I have to sort through and organize what I have saved. This week I was sorting through a stack of articles and came across one I saved in 2015 that connected to today’s sermon. It is called, “Why We Need Resurrection” and was posted on the Patheos website.
The author, Ellen Painter Dollar, comments on the power of Jesus’ resurrection to transform his followers, writing, “Something clearly happened that transformed a bunch of bumbling, dejected disciples into people of steady conviction willing to travel the world preaching good news, and die for it if necessary. I don’t need to know exactly what happened, or understand exactly how it happened, to allow myself to be transformed by the resurrection. We don’t have to understand exactly how something works for it to have power and meaning.”
She goes on to compare this to how other things in her life change her. Dollar writes, “I don’t understand how my dog’s goofy presence makes me feel better after a lousy day, why I consider a particular piece of music beautiful, or how my gut feelings usually steer me in the right direction when it comes to big decisions—but all of those experiences are very real. I don’t have to understand how the human-canine bond, music, or intuition work to know that these phenomena have real power to transform.”
Dollar observes that, while we can’t explain how, the power of Jesus’ resurrection changes us. For we follow the One death could not hold, the grave unable to contain his love. Though the forces of sin, hatred, and evil tried their best to kill the Lord of Love, hanging him on the tree, the power of God’s love was no match. Jesus is raised on the third day, overcoming death and the grave, and we are set free from sin, hatred, despair, and fear.
Jesus is the Good Shepherd of the people. Psalm 23 reminds us today the Shepherd leads to green pastures and still waters, reviving our weary soul. Though we come face to face with death itself, walking “through the valley of the shadow of death” we have nothing to fear. The Good Shepherd is with us, leading and guiding us to the table he has spread for us, to the cup that is running over. He is the Shepherd who is the guardian, the protector, of our souls.
In our Gospel today, John tells us Jesus is the Shepherd of the sheep. He calls each by name, the sheep know his voice and follow him. He protects the sheep from all danger and harm, even giving his life for the sheep — something a hireling would never do.
The Gospel also tells us Jesus is the sheep gate. The sheep gate was the opening in the sheep fold, an enclosure often made of stone, where the sheep were safe at night. Jesus is the gate of this sheep fold, preventing danger from entering, keeping the sheep safe inside, preventing them from wandering away. Jesus the shepherd leads his sheep to the fold for safety, and those who follow him safely come to fine pasture.
This is not to say because we follow Jesus, the Shepherd of our souls, no danger will befall us. There will be challenging times, difficulties will beset us, and at the last we, like all creatures we will die. But in whatever we experience Jesus promises to be with us, like the faithful Shepherd, calling us by name, leading us through all trials. Jesus comes that we “may have life, and have it abundantly.” He promises to faithfully lead us to fullness of abundant life.
This, I think, is key to understanding — as much as we are able — the power of resurrection to transform and change us. In the resurrection of Jesus all powers and forces of this world are destroyed, their power forever disarmed. Following Jesus, we are set free from the evil forces of this world, and set free to be rooted in the divine life of God.
We are set free to live by gratitude and generosity, knowing our possessions ultimately will not save us. We are set free to live by love, as Jesus loves, caring for the least and forgotten.
We are set free from the individualism of our age, with its reliance on self and focus on individual needs, and instead build a mutual community of just love and compassion.
However it happens, however little we understand, the reality is the risen Jesus frees us from the powers and hold of this world, allowing us to live by the ways of God’s reign.
The quest for every age is discerning God’s call in the present. Each generation of Christians is charged with living by resurrection life, listening to God, following where Jesus our Shepherd leads. This may be even more true in this time of pandemic and physical separation from one another. It is a time in which what we have known and done must change.
Though this is a challenging and frightening time in which we live, it is also a time of great opportunity. It is time to look for the blessings and moments of grace, for they continue to happen, even while we stay at home.
It is a time to open ourselves to the risen Jesus when he comes in our midst, receptive to those times we experience his presence and know he is near.
And it is a time to open ourselves to Holy Spirit that we continue to be the church, the body of the risen Christ, even now. It is time to open our hearts and our lives to the visitation of the Spirit, claiming the gifts the Spirit gives, doing the work of ministry even now.
And this is a time to trust the power of Jesus’ resurrection to defeat all the forces of this world. God’s love remains steadfast. Jesus our Good Shepherd continues to walk beside us, calling us each by name, leading us into the pasture of abundant life, into the sheep fold of eternal life.
Let us listen, moment by moment, for his call, that we recognize his voice, and follow him wherever he leads us. Amen.
April 26, 2020
Sermon for the Third Sunday of Easter. The scripture readings are found here.
Today’s Gospel seems to me a very human story, one it is not hard to find myself part of. It is the story of two people walking on the road, traveling the seven miles from Jerusalem to the village of Emmaus. Just as when I take a walk with friends, these two talk with each other along the way.
As they walk, they reflect on the events of recent days. Their hearts are sad, for these are followers of Jesus and have just witness his arrest, torture, crucifixion, and burial. They feel grief at the death of their teacher. They try to make sense of what happened to him and what their future may hold.
As these two talk, the risen Jesus appears. As often happens in resurrection accounts in the Gospels, they do not recognize him. They consider him a stranger they meet along the road.
This stranger joins the pair and walks with them, asking what they were talking about. They are surprised their companion has not heard what they have been through. For them it is an important, life-defining time, yet, surprisingly, he knows nothing about it.
They tell him what happened to Jesus. They explain that morning the women found the tomb empty and angels telling them Jesus is alive. But no one has seem him yet. The stranger on the road says, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” He explains to them what scripture says about the Messiah. He breaks open scripture for them, helping them see what they had not seen before.
As they come near Emmaus, their destination, the traveler makes like he is going on. But they strongly urge him to stay with them, for the day is almost over. So he joins the two in a meal. During the meal, “he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.”
That first Easter afternoon, these two disciples of Jesus, in their sadness, experience the risen Jesus in their midst. They encounter Jesus in the Word, as he opened scripture to their understanding. They recognized him in the Sacrament, in the breaking of the bread.
In the past I have understood this rich passage as being about the Eucharist. Each Sunday when we gather to celebrate the Eucharist, we read three lessons from scripture and a psalm. There is a sermon that offers reflection and teaching on the Word. After the Peace, we gather at the altar for the bread and wine that are transformed into the body and blood of Jesus, that abiding presence of the risen Jesus with us always.
Always, that is, except this year. Because of the pandemic we cannot gather. Because we cannot gather, we cannot celebrate the Eucharist. This past month has been the longest period in my life not receiving communion. It is strange and disorienting. It can leave us feeling unmoored, deprived of the primary way we encounter the risen Jesus, the important way he with us always.
How do we live as the body of Christ when we can’t receive the body of Christ, when we are deprived of that heavenly food that forms us into Christ’s body, into the people God creates us to be?
Earlier this week, when I first read this Gospel, I was sad. It seemed poignant, if not painful, to contemplate this story when we are in the midst of a fast from the Eucharist — a fast we did not choose and without a certain ending.
But thanks be to God for scripture and for God’s revelation. It amazes and surprises me how a passage I have read all my life takes on new meaning in a particular time. How a story in the Gospels I have understood in a particular way can be seen in a new light when context changes. It is an assurance of God’s active presence in our world, of how scripture is the living Word of God, speaking anew to each age, being understood freshly each year.
While I still understand this story of the road to Emmaus being about the risen Jesus present to us in the Eucharist, this year I have greater appreciation for the Word of God. We are a people centered in the Eucharist. It is what we typically do on Sunday. This is a good and fitting thing, and has been true for followers of Jesus since the Early Church.
But with the emphasis on the Eucharist, we can forget the importance of the Word, of how the Eucharist is both Word and Sacrament. And how the Word speaks to us in fresh ways. This year, reflecting on this Gospel in this time of COVID-19 and social distancing, several things in particular strike me as speaking to our present context.
The first is the risen Jesus comes upon the two walking on the road just as they are. We do not know why they are on this journey, but it is an ordinary experience to walk with a friend to a destination. As they walk they talk about their traumatic experience. They express their grief and sadness, their concerns for the future.
Into their very human experience the risen Jesus appears. He meets them just where they are, just as they are. This is important for us in this time. We cannot celebrate Easter as in past years. We are unable to gather as a community. It does not quite feel like Eastertide. There is even a temptation to put off Easter until it has some sense of normalcy, it meets our expectations of how it should be.
But it is already Easter. It has come, whether we are ready or not. And reading the Gospels, we see that first Easter was not entirely unlike our Easter this year. The resurrection stories are full of anxiety and uncertainty. There is fear. There is doubt. There is grief mixed with joy.
The risen Jesus appears to his followers just where they are, giving them what they need to see him and believe he is risen from the dead. He accepts all they feel and experience, then leads them in their first steps into resurrection life.
Jesus does the same with us. He comes to us even now, in our homes where we shelter. He appears when we know Easter joy, and when we doubt, worry, or are afraid. He comes to us when we are well, and when we are sick. He is with us when we grieve. The risen Jesus comes to us as surely as those walking that dusty road the first Easter afternoon.
The challenge for us, as it was for those first followers of Jesus, is to recognize our risen Lord. We can miss his presence, not see and when Jesus comes to us. It takes the eyes of faith to understand Jesus is raised and is with us. Jesus wants us to see him when he comes to us. Our charge is to expect he will appear to us, praying for the gift of sight, of eyes that discern his presence with us, asking the Holy Spirit to open us so we see him in our midst, present with us.
And for those us who are healthy and still employed, these days offer opportunities. The disruption of our normal routine brings with it the chance for new ways of living and being. As Christians, we are called to lives of gratitude. I encourage you to look for the blessings, for the gifts and new opportunities presented to us. To give thanks for God at work even now.
A blessing I see for us, as a church, is recovering the importance of the Word of God. The risen Jesus is revealed to us, present with us, in both Word and Sacrament. In this time without the Eucharist, we still have the gift of scripture. Reading and meditating on God’s holy Word can edify and enrich our lives; it can strengthen and uphold us; it can comfort and support us. It is how we can encounter the risen Jesus.
As Anglicans we are specially blessed. We have the gift of the Daily Office, especially Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer. The structure of these Offices is built around reading scripture — almost all of it over two years — and the recitation of all 150 psalms every seven weeks.
Reading scripture regularly God is present with us. In scripture we find God’s plan for salvation unfolding. Day by day, week by week, we are formed and shaped by our encounter with God’s living Word. In scripture we find what we need in this time, in this moment, to support us on our journey of faith. Especially in the psalms we find every human emotion on display, anything we might experience is echoed by the psalmist.
In the regular reading of scripture we can exclaim with the travelers on the road that first Easter afternoon, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” Our hearts can also burn within us, the warming presence of the Holy Spirit filling us and leading us into all truth. In scripture we experience the risen Christ present, standing in our midst, illuminating our minds, filling our hearts with his love.
On this Third Sunday of Easter let us expect the risen Jesus to appear to us, looking for his presence in the ordinariness of our lives. May we pay attention to those moments are hearts burn within us with God’s love, when we sense the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit. And may we not lose heart, but allow God to open our eyes of faith, that we see Jesus revealed to us even now in “all his redeeming work,” trusting the power of his resurrection to sustain us in this time, and at the last to deliver us from the power of suffering and death into the fullness of his resurrection. Amen.
April 19, 2020
A sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter. The scripture readings are found here.
Several times this week I have read of some Episcopal clergy calling for Easter Day to be celebrated whenever we are able to gather in person. One cathedral dean suggested the first Sunday we again gather in our buildings we use the scripture readings, music, vestments — even an Easter egg hunt — that we would have used on Easter day.
I completely understand this sentiment. It is the Second Sunday of Easter and we remain apart, distancing ourselves for the safety of all and to prevent our hospitals from being overwhelmed. We have fasted for a month from celebrating and receiving the Eucharist — being deprived of that sacrament that is a loving gift from God and the abiding presence of the risen Jesus.
It is simply true that this year Easter comes in this disorienting and challenging time. On Easter Day we gave up many of the ways we typically celebrate this feast. While watching the broadcast of the Eucharist from Washington Cathedral last Sunday morning, I felt the grief and loss I carry not gathering with all of you in this beautiful church, singing the beloved hymns and carols of Easter.
But it is still Eastertide. And in this time of sacrifice and loss there is, I believe, an opportunity for us to really be in touch with the deep reality of Easter. Without so many externals of this feast, we are left with the strong, life-changing truth of what the resurrection means in the face of suffering and loss.
Our passage from John’s Gospel today reminds us of the reality of that first Easter night. The apostles are behind locked doors. They are fearful, worried the authorities will next come for them, arresting and killing them as they did Jesus. I can imagine they gather in their fear, wondering with trepidation, what might befall them. Maybe they rehearse various scenarios of what their fate will be.
Through the locked door of their fear and worry, the risen Jesus appears. He shows them the wounds of his passion. This is the same Jesus who was tortured, crucified, and buried. He has been raised from the dead to resurrection life. He is not a ghost, but their risen Lord.
Just as that first Easter night, the risen Jesus enters our locked homes, coming into the midst of our fear and worry. There is no place the risen Jesus cannot go, and no place he will not go. And when he enters our homes in the midst of this pandemic, he comes to relieve our fear and anxiety. Just as he does that first Easter, so he does this Easter: he bids us peace.
Twice Jesus tells the apostles, “Peace be with you.” Jesus says to us, “Peace be with you.” This greeting is not simply offering us calm in the face of disease and death. It is not only the hope we live without conflict and strife.
Rather, Jesus offers something greater and more profound. He gives us the peace of God, the desire of God that all people live in the fullness of life God intends. God’s wish that every person has, from the abundance of creation, all they need to live and thrive. The peace Jesus offers is the way of life that allows all creatures to grow and thrive in God’s love, becoming the creatures God has made them to be.
After extending peace to the apostles, Jesus breathes on them, giving them the gift of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit fills them, and the Spirit fills us, too. Closer than our breath, the Holy Spirit breathes in us, filling us with God’s loving presence. The Spirit gives us the gifts we need to face this moment, to be God’s people in a time of anxiety.
The Spirit gives us the strength to leave behind our fear and fearlessly follow the risen Jesus where he leads. Through his resurrection we have nothing to fear. No power of this world is any match for God’s love — not even a deadly virus.
Just as terrible things happened to Jesus, so they happen to us. But through his death and resurrection there is no need for fear. We are safe in Christ for eternity. We will be delivered from the trials of this wold into the joy of eternity. Through the Holy Spirit we have all we need in this moment and in this life.
A central figure in today’s Gospel is Thomas. Commonly he is known as “Doubting Thomas.” But I worry this diminishes the importance of Thomas’ witness. I suggest he is a model for Christian discipleship. In John’s Gospel, Thomas asks questions and speaks his mind. I suspect he is the person who says what others are thinking but are not willing to ask themselves.
Thomas is not with the others when the risen Jesus first appears. Hearing of their experience, he tells them he will not believe unless he sees Jesus and touches his wounds. Thomas is asking for what the others experienced. It is not easy to wrap our minds around Jesus raised from the dead. Thomas dares to say what he needs in that moment in order to believe.
Jesus hears Thomas, and a week later appears to the apostles. This time Thomas is present. He receives what he asked and he believes. Not only does he believe, but he understands in a profound way who Jesus is. He exclaims, “My Lord and my God!”
In asking for what he needs to believe, Thomas receives the understanding of the Holy Spirit, proclaiming Jesus as Lord, the Son of God in their midst. The witness of Thomas reminds us we can ask God for what we need, we can ask God what questions we have, bring our doubts to God, and God will take them seriously. Through asking questions and expressing doubts, our faith may be deepened, we may see more profoundly the nature of God.
We often think the resurrection of Jesus changes only Jesus, when his human flesh is brought through death to eternal life. But in the resurrection we too are changed. Through the waters of baptism we share in the resurrection of Jesus and are brought into new life. We are made a new creation. Life is changed for us, too.
John tells us in today’s Gospel that after imparting the gift of the Holy Spirit, Jesus says to his apostles, “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
Our Collect of the Day reminds us, “in the Paschal mystery [God] established the new covenant of reconciliation.” This is the new life into which we are reborn through baptism. Through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, we are called to be lavish in forgiving. We are to forgive as readily as God forgives us. We are baptized into a covanental relationship with God, whereby God promises to forgive us as often as we repent and return to God, and we promise to do the same for others.
As it says in the Outline of the Faith, commonly called the Catechism, “What is the mission of the church? The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ” (Book of Common Prayer, p. 855) As followers of Jesus, as the body of Christ in the world, it is our mission and vocation to be agents of God’s forgiveness.
We are to work tirelessly for reconciliation, building relationships of love and mutuality, so all estrangement is overcome and unity in Christ is achieved. This tall order is only possible by the gifts and the power of the Holy Spirit.
As many of you know, I enjoy watching documentaries online. Recently I watched a suggested video called, The Meaning of a Cathedral. It depicted life on Christmas Day 2005 at Canterbury Cathedral. The Archbishop of Canterbury at the time was Rowan Williams. He was interviewed as part of the program, and asked why he is a Christian. He replied because he was born into a Christian household.
But he went on to say the real question is why is he still a Christian. He spoke of the clergy, and other faithful Christians, who nurtured him as he grew to adulthood. The Archbishop spoke of the uniqueness of Christianity reflected in God coming among us, entering into human existence, and the call of God to forgive.
Rowan Williams said the call to forgiveness is not sentimental, it does not mean forgiving then forgetting, acting as though nothing happened. Rather, it is hard work to forgive. It is done through our hurt, pain, and tears. Forgiveness is holding together, at the same time, a person’s hurt and suffering alongside the forgiveness of the one who wounded them.
Walking with Jesus allows a person to forgive. Williams says forgiveness remains one the great, miraculous things about Christianity. He cites as an example the 2005 story of a mother in Liverpool, Jean Walker, whose son Antony was murdered. Through her tears of grief, she forgave the killers of her son. She held within her both the terrible grief of losing her son, as well as the challenging God-given call to forgive. Forgiveness did not make her loss easier, but she knew she had to forgive. It was the only response for her to make.
This is the call given to all who follow Jesus, it is the covenant into which we are baptized. We follow Jesus who prayed for the forgiveness of those crucifying him, and he calls us to do the same. It is only through the presence and help of the Holy Spirit we are ever able to do so.
Our Gospel this morning reminds us of the profound power of Jesus’ resurrection — power which is already ours, in which we already share. In Easter we are given the profound gift of resurrection life. The risen Jesus comes through the locked doors of our homes, and of our hearts. The walls of fear, anxiety, and isolation are no match for him. He enters into the very heart of our lives and bids us peace.
Jesus imparts to us the gifts of the Holy Spirit, gifts which make us into a new creation, that transform us into a people who live by hope over despair, and unity over estrangement. We are a people forgiven, who in thanksgiving for God’s loving mercy shown to us, forgive others willingly and often.
Like Thomas may we bring before Jesus all we hold in our hearts this day, especially any fear, anxiety, or doubt. In doing so, expect Jesus to enter in, speaking words of peace, and leading us into the abundance of resurrection life. Amen.
April 12, 2020, Easter Day
A sermon for Easter Day.
When I was a child, I enjoyed watching the clay-animated children’s television series “Davey and Goliath” on Sunday morning. Davey is a boy who lives with his parents and sister Sally. Davey’s dog, Goliath, never leaves his side, and can talk (though only Davey can hear Goliath speak). Produced by the Lutheran Church, each episode opened with the hymn “A mighty fortress is our God,” and showed the characters learning the love of God through every day events, coming to trust God in the various situations they find themselves.
I honestly have not thought about this television program in years. But last week, for some reason, I had a sudden memory of a particular episode that made an impact on me — so much of an impact, that I remember it clearly decades later.
This episode is called “Happy Easter,” and opens with Davey spending an afternoon at his grandmother’s house. It is a few days before Easter, and she is frosting an Easter cake. Davey and his grandmother talk about the Easter egg hunt she is preparing for him and his sister. After knitting him a sweater with the initial of his baseball team, she promises to be at his baseball game the next day, cheering him on.
But things don’t turn out as planned. A few hours after his visit, Davey returns home from baseball practice to find his family somber and his sister crying. While he was at practice, the family learned Davey’s grandmother had died unexpectedly. Davey is devastated by her death.
Reluctantly, and with the encouragement of his teammates, Davey plays his baseball game. But he is distracted and misses several catches. He leaves dejectedly in the middle of the game, and walks to his grandmother’s house. There he remembers their afternoon together, replying in his mind the various things they would do to keep Easter.
Davey leaves her house goes to the cemetery. At her grave he cries, saying how much he misses her. Davey’s father arrives, expecting to find Davey there. His father tells Davey to follow him. “Where are we going?” Davey asks. His father tells him, “You’ll see.”
They arrive at the site of the annual Easter play. It is performed on Easter morning at sunrise, and tells the story of Jesus’ trial, death, and resurrection. Davey is sad because the family was going to attend the play with his grandmother. She loved Easter, calling it a “lovely, joyous time.”
At the site of the outdoor play, Davey’s father reminds him of the story of Jesus’ passion, death, and burial. Davey remarks, “I don’t see why Grandma thought Easter was happy.” After he says this, characters appear for the play dress rehearsal. They rehearse the women coming to the tomb and the risen Jesus appearing to them.
Davey begins to sees how death is painful, the separation with those we love causes grief. Yet just as Jesus is raised from the dead, so Jesus promises to raise his grandmother — and his father adds Davey too. Davey comes to see the Easter promise of resurrection in the midst of his grief and loss. He realizes death is not the end of the story, or of human experience. The episode ends with the hymn, “Jesus Christ is risen today.”
I clearly remember watching this program so many years ago. I, too, loved Easter even then. Being close to both my grandmothers, who lived in the same small town I did, I saw them often. Thinking of them dying filled me with grief. To imagine them dying on Easter was impossible to conceive. Easter, I was sure, was a day of great joy. How could I know joy if grieving for someone I loved deeply? How could it be Easter in the midst of death?
Easter is a wonderful feast. We have cherished traditions we enact each year. We have expectations for how the day is kept. Easter conjures images of glorious music — maybe with a trumpet or two; beautiful flowers; grand festival liturgies; wearing special clothes; the Easter Bunny and Easter egg hunts; as well as gathering with family and friends for a delicious meal.
But the reality is this is an Easter Day unlike any we have known. In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, the world is gripped by illness and death. People everywhere live with anxiety, fear, and uncertainty. We worry over our health and that of those we love. We are anguished by all the suffering around the world. Those who live alone are isolated from their communities. Those who live with family are challenged by working and schooling at home. Some have lost their jobs. Others are on the front lines of caring for the ill and dying.
As a parish community were unable to gather for the central liturgies of Holy Week and Easter Day. I lead you in worship this day from an empty church. Rather than the throngs of people celebrating our Lords resurrection with great joy, I am here alone in this empty building.
As a parish we are disconnected from one another. It has been disorienting to me not walking through this week with each of you, in person, gathered in this church. Moving through this week together is so important for my understanding of who we are. While we have kept these days, I have been saddened it is at a distance, through virtual liturgies.
But it strikes me that in all these challenges there is an opportunity for us as followers of Jesus. So many of the familiar ways we keep Easter are taken from us this year. Perhaps this reality allows us to focus on what is at the heart of this Queen of Feasts. This may be a time for celebrating what is most important about Easter, to be reminded what it means for us that Jesus is raised from the dead.
As I contemplate our Gospel passage through the reality of the coronavirus, there are two words that keep jumping out at me: fear and afraid.
In the passage, there is an earthquake and an angel of the Lord descends from heaven and rolls away the stone from the tomb. The angel, looking like lightening and in white clothes, sits on the stone. Not surprisingly, the guards at the tomb are afraid. Matthew tells us they “shook and became like dead men” in their fright.
The angel tells the Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.”
The women leave the tomb with “fear and great joy.” On the way, Jesus appears to them, saying, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
There is much fear in this account. We don’t find trumpets blaring from heaven the news of the resurrection or throngs of angels singing God’s praises. There are no mounds of Easter lilies. We don’t find the disciples rejoicing at the tomb. Instead, they are in hiding, fearing for their lives, afraid they will be killed like Jesus.
What we see in this scene are the guards doing their assigned work when a terrifying scene plays out around them. There are the women, those faithful followers of Jesus who do not flee, who become the first witnesses to the resurrection, coming to the tomb to finish the burial rites for Jesus. They come in sadness at the death of their beloved Lord, expecting all will be as they last saw it.
But things are not as expected. Things do not remain as they had been left. Into these ordinary tasks, into the midst of sadness of loss and grief, as faithful duties are carried out by those who love and grieve their crucified Lord, God sends an angel, a dazzling divine messenger, entrusted with the injunction to not be afraid.
The risen Jesus appears with the same charge, showing the women he is raised from the dead and promising to be with them in Galilee. Seeing him, there is no longer any need to be afraid. By his appearance, by the fact of his resurrection, fear can be abandoned.
Perhaps this year the promise of Easter matters more than it ever has. The call to not be afraid may be more urgent his Easter than on any other I remember. This may be the day we most need to make sense of the unexpected happening, of Easter not going as we hoped or planned, yet seeing in this time the promise of Easter and holding onto the profound hope of this feast — a hope so strong, that it casts out all fear and despair. This Easter hope is the bedrock and foundation of our Christian faith.
This day Jesus comes into our midst with the news he is risen. He appears to us and bids us let go of our fear. His body bears the wounds of his passion. The print of the nails, the mark of the spear in his side are visible in his flesh. Jesus has endured the worst that can befall a person. Yet he lives.
The promise of this day is, through him, we too shall be raised. Jesus will sustain us through all the unexpected events of life. Jesus will be with us in our challenges and sufferings. Jesus is with though it may not feel like Easter. And Jesus will be with us at the last, when we experience death as he did. By his resurrection, he promises to carry us through death into eternal life, bringing us to that place he has prepared for us.
The promise of this day, the hope of the resurrection, is that Jesus is with us in the fullness of our human existence. Jesus enters into all places of sin, brokenness, and despair. On the cross Jesus puts to death the worst of the human condition — hatred, envy, greed, and the thirst for violence. Jesus comes to us when we weep, mourn, and despair. Jesus knows the power of evil and death. Jesus knows what it is to suffer in body and spirit. Jesus looks on us with loving compassion in the midst of our trials. And Jesus gives us the strength to face these realities without fear.
In his earthly life, Jesus experienced everything we do. He was denied and rejected by those closest to him. He was falsely accused and condemned. He was tortured and crucified. He died a terrible death and was buried in a tomb. And on the third day God raised him from the dead. Death could not hold him for long, God’s love could not be contained by the grave. And by his resurrection, the power of sin and death are broken leaving us nothing to fear.
This Easter we have so few of those beloved practices and traditions that are usually part of this feast. But we have what matters most. We have exactly what we need most in this time of pandemic.
We follow our risen Savior. Through the waters of baptism we share in a death like his so we might share in his resurrection. In baptism we are marked as Christ’s own for eternity. Whatever may befall us, Jesus is with us. He promises to bring us through the trials of this life, and into the unending joy of resurrection life.
This day the words of the angel are said to us: “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said.”
These words of hope and life-changing promise give us all we need on this most different of Easter Days. They are what we most need in this time of isolation, suffering, and death. They are what we need to sustain us now.
The risen Jesus comes before us, bearing the wounds of his passion, and inviting us to cast our fear on him. He is risen from the dead and promises we shall be too. Thanks be to God for this Easter promise.
Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.
April 11, 2020, Holy Saturday
Each year on Holy Saturday I struggle to wrap my mind around this day. This is a day of uncomfortable quiet, of an unsettled stillness. Jesus is dead. His earthly body is in the tomb. All of creation seems to hold its breath. I am holding my breath.
This is even more true this year. Seeing the numbers of ill in Rhode Island climb, with increasing numbers of dead, perhaps we are all holding our breath. While some places in the world are seeing things improve, we are moving into the most challenging time of this pandemic.
How do we begin to understand Jesus dead and buried, his body laid in a borrowed tomb? How do we make sense of an unseen virus that ravages the world, leaving us worrying about what the future holds? As we hold our breath in the silence, where is God? What is God doing?
The Apostles’ Creed tells us after his death, Jesus descended to the dead. When his body is in the tomb, Jesus descends to those who have already died. In the silence, while the creation holds its breath, God is work. In death, Jesus goes to that most forgotten place, to where the dead dwell.
Jesus goes to the depths of death itself. He visit that place where there is no hope, only a shadow of life, in order to release those held in death’s grip. Jesus descends to the dead to bring those imprisoned there to freedom. When he is raised from the tomb he will bring the righteous dead with him.
There is an icon that gives me hope each Holy Saturday. As you may know, icons are windows into the divine life. They are holy paintings that allow us to glimpse eternity even now, with our earthly eyes. Icons let us see a holy reality through the divine light of God.
There is an ancient icon expressing the hope of this day. It depicts Jesus standing on the broken remnants of his cross, with Satan trampled under it. The doors of hell are smashed open, and Jesus is pulling Adam and Eve by the wrists out of the grave. With them are Abraham, King David, John the Baptist, and other faithful people from ages past.
Though Jesus died and was buried, God was at work in the midst of death and silence. In death Jesus goes to where the dead are imprisoned. They are not beyond his loving reach. Jesus goes to them in order to take them by the arm and lift them out of death into eternal life.
God is at work even now, when death seems to reign, when there is an uncomfortable silence. Though we can’t see or sense it, God is at work at all times. Even when we think there is no possibility of life, God is able to bring new life from the grave. God is able to reach the dead and redeem them.
Holy Saturday reminds of how little we understand the power of God to act. In the most forgotten and seemingly hopeless of places, God is present. When Jesus descends to the dead, we are given a profound promise: no place is beyond God’s reach. Even in death, even in the darkness of the tomb, Jesus is at work bringing new life.
There is no place God is not present. There is no place cannot go. There is nothing God cannot do. There is no place God will not go to rescue us. God will stop at nothing to bring us to new life.
Holy Saturday assures us that when we feel beyond God’s reach, Jesus comes to us. When we feel cut off and alone, Jesus is with us. In the depths of life, in those places that seem dead, Jesus reaches out to us. Those parts of ourselves where we feel shame and silence, Jesus enters in with loving compassion.
As we live in these uncertain and challenging days, we can rely on God’s promise to be with us always. There is no place God cannot go to find us. There is no place God will not go to save us. There is no place beyond God’s reach or God’s power to save. Jesus descends to the dead that the dead might live.
And this day Jesus desires to grab you and me by the hand and lead us to the abundance of life with him. May we open our hearts, letting Jesus enter into the depths of our being, letting him lead us to fullness of life with God for eternity.
April 10, 2020, Good Friday
A sermon for Good Friday. The scripture readings my be found here.
Our journey through these Three Holy Days, this sacred Triduum, brings us to the stark reality of the cross, that instrument of torture and death used by first century Romans to punish political insurrectionists. On it the Lord of Love is crucified.
At the beginning of the Gospel bearing his name, John sets forth in soaring language his theology that the Word becomes flesh, God stoops to put on humanity in the person of Jesus. The eternal Word present at the creation of the world becomes a finite creature to show the depth of God’s love.
At the end of John’s Gospel, Jesus, the eternal Word, Love incarnate, hangs from the cross, suffers, and dies. The starkness of this reality brings us face-to-face with the fullness of our human nature. Though created in God’s image, made for relationship with God, our unruly wills reject the One who is Love.
In his death on the cross we see the depth of that love Jesus has for us. The Innocent One, guilty only of loving, is punished. His love threatens the world, it indicts those in power, so they kill him.
This day we are confronted with the harsh reality of our human nature: our rejection of God; our desire to act for ourselves; our thirst to hoard material possessions for ourselves; our quest for power, no matter who suffers as a consequence of our pursuit; our need to live by violence, answering every insult in kind.
How I wish I could say the forces that killed Jesus some 2000 years ago no longer exist. Sadly they do. They are in full force and evidence in our world.
The Passion Gospel we heard has incited violent acts against the Jewish community through the ages. It matters not that Jesus, his disciples, and most of the authorities in this account are Jewish.
It is no accident that throughout history, violence against the Jewish community increased during Holy Week. It is no accident the Holocaust happened, with millions who were Jewish displaced, tortured, and killed by people professing to be Christian.
The cross itself has been used as a symbol of intimidation and oppression. In the hands of the Klu Klux Klan, a cross set on fire strikes fear and terror in the hearts of the African American community.
Just as with lynchings, the cross was used by the Romans as a deterrent, a symbol to those challenging the powers of Roman occupation. If they dared to incite insurrection, the cross would be their fate. This was especially true at the time of the Passover, when the desire for a state free of Roman oppression was strong, and fears of an uprising preoccupied the political rulers.
Jesus is hung on the cross to preserve the status quo, so those with power can maintain their grip on power. These rulers were certain if they killed Jesus they could preserve things as they were. They could not have been more mistaken.
The cross of Jesus is not the end. The death of Jesus is not simply the death of a man. Good Friday is “good” precisely because it is the beginning, the promise of a new way of living, the dawn of a new age.
The cross offers hope to those who are oppressed. The cross offers promise to those living in fear and terror. The cross offers refuge for those who despair. The cross offers healing for those burdened by sins and failings. In this time of pandemic the cross offers us hope and the promise of deliverance.
While this day offers the difficult vision of Jesus hanging on a tree, nailed there by human sinfulness and hate, Jesus bids us come to the foot of the cross, there to gaze at the worst humanity can do, to see the work of our sinfulness. To see “God’s blood upon the spearhead, God’s love refused again” (Richard Wilbur, Hymn 104, Hymnal 1982).
We come to the cross not out of guilt, nor to punish ourselves. Rather, we come in hope. For the cross puts to death, once and for all, the worst humanity can perpetuate. Through the power of the cross, sin and death are defeated once and for all. In that defeat there is joy and the promise of life eternal. In the death of Jesus is great hope for us. This day we are invited to bring ourselves before the cross of Jesus, to gaze upon the sorrow and horror, and also glimpse the glory and promise of eternity.
Through the ages many have asked why God allows suffering. Some have found it an impediment to faith that God does not step into the mess of this world and deliver humanity from all evil, pain, and suffering. Perhaps you are asking this question now.
There is no easy or simple answer to this question. It is largely a mystery. Perhaps part of the answer lies in God’s hope we will act, we will work to alleviate suffering and fight injustice in this world.
Whatever the reason, suffering exists in our world. On this day many suffer, many are ill, many have died. An invisible virus ravages the world. While this is the present reality, God is not dispassionate to our plight. God is not unmoved by our suffering. God is present with us now.
Jesus experiences the horror of torture, crucifixion, and death. Jesus knows what it is to be rejected and abandoned. Jesus enters into humanity’s sin, violence, and pain, and through the power of the cross breaks their tyranny and power once and for ever. Jesus is present with us whenever we suffer, experience pain, or know rejection. Jesus offers us the promise that he journeys through suffering with us, walking with us in difficult times.
This day Jesus enters fully into humanity’s pain, suffering, and brokenness. Jesus takes all human failings, all evils committed, to the cross in himself. In his death, all sin and evil, and even death itself, are destroyed. In being lifted high upon the cross, Jesus puts to death everything that separates us from God, our neighbor, ourselves, creation, gathering all humanity in the wide, loving embrace of his outstretched arms.
Jesus dies on the cross because of human sinfulness and failing. But nothing is lost in God’s economy. Through the power of God, all that separates us from the love of God made known in Jesus is put to death. The very power of sin and death die on that tree on the first Good Friday. In the end, resurrection is stronger than any evil, is stronger than any power of this world, is stronger even than death itself.
Let us come before the cross this day, leaving before it all our sins and failings. Let us go forth from the cross set free to love. The death of Jesus frees us to choose love over the forces of sin and evil. The power of the Holy Spirit enables us to deny the sinful impulses within us: greed, hatred, fear, and violence. The death of Jesus sets us free from the evils of this world, freeing us to walk in love as Christ loved us. Amen.
April 9, 2020, Maundy Thursday
A sermon for Maundy Thursday. You may find the day’s scripture readings here.
Today is a Maundy Thursday unlike any we have every known. On the day we remember the first Eucharist Jesus celebrated with his disciples that night before he was crucified, we are fasting from celebrating and receiving the Sacrament of his Body and Blood. This is not a fast we chose. It is a fast borne of necessity to keep ourselves and one another safe from the coronavirus ravaging the world.
It is poignant on this day is focused on a meal shared by Jesus and his friends when we cannot gather. On the day we give thanks and rejoice that Jesus left us the gift of the Eucharist, his presence in signs of bread and wine, we sadly cannot come together as a community and receive communion.
This does not mean Jesus is not present with us in this time. Though we are unable to receive his Body and Blood in the Eucharist, Jesus still comes to us and nourishes us. Jesus continues to be present with us, forming us into his body on earth, into his presence in the world.
How does Jesus do this? That is not an easy question to answer. Just as we can’t explain exactly how the bread and wine are transformed into the Body and Blood of Jesus in the Eucharist, so we can’t explain exactly how Jesus continues to feed us in this Eucharistic fast. But he does.
For we have the assurance that he is with us always. His Spirit dwells within us, breathing in us, closer than our own breath. At that Last Supper with his disciples, Jesus promises to be with them always, even though he is about to physically leave them. He assures them that where he is going they will follow one day, that he goes to prepare a dwelling place for them. Jesus assures us of the same.
Jesus is with us in every trial and all suffering. In our first lesson from the Book of Exodus, we heard the story of the first Passover, when the Angel of Death passed over the homes of the Israelites. Their homes were marked with blood of the Passover Lamb. This is the last of the plagues visited on the people of Egypt before Pharaoh freed the people of Israel from slavery.
In years past I have not thought much about this lesson on Maundy Thursday. This year is different. In the midst of our own plague, this time of COVID-19, the words from Exodus are reassuring. The Lord says, “The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.”
No plague shall destroy us, either. Though we may become ill, we will not be destroyed. We are safe in Christ for ever. Whatever happens to the body, we are claimed as Christ’s own for eternity. God is present with us in our suffering in this life, and will bring us in safety to eternal life in the next. No plague shall destroy us. Nothing will separate us from God. Jesus promises to be with us always.
Jesus is also present to us when we love others. In our Gospel reading Jesus tells us, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Jesus calls us to live by love. This love is not a matter of emotion or sentiment. It is not a love reserved for those who love us in return. It is not a love only for those it is easy to love. Rather, this is love for all, even those we find it difficult to love. It is love for those who do not love us in return. It is love even for those who wish us harm.
This is love that asks nothing in return. It is love of others simply because they are beloved children of God. It is love rooted in the very nature of God, who is love. Love is not just an attribute of God. God is love. The Trinity is a community, one God in three Persons, bound together by love. God is made known, is present, in any loving act.
Jesus doesn’t just tell us to love, he shows us how to love. At that last meal with his disciples, he gets down on his knees and washes their feet. In a world of dusty dirt roads, it was customary to wash the feet of guests. But in the hierarchical world of the first century, feet were washed by the person of lowest status. Servants washed feet. The teacher would not wash the feet of his followers.
Yet that is what Jesus does. John tells us, “Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” Jesus shows his love by taking the part of a servant, doing the most menial of tasks for his disciples.
This upsets Peter. He refuses to allow Jesus to wash his feet. Perhaps this makes us uncomfortable, too. Jesus on his knees with a towel and basin, moving across the floor from person to person, is hard to reconcile with Jesus being the eternal Word present at the creation of all things. God the creator of all, incarnate in human flesh, washing dirty, grimy feet can seem too much for us. It may leave us wondering if this how God should act?
Yet that is just what Jesus does. He humbles himself, taking the role of servant, just as he will on Good Friday when he gives up his life on the cross. In his humility, Jesus loves everyone, always.
Jesus even loves those we might think don’t deserve his love. It is startling to think that among the feet Jesus washed at the Last Supper were those of Judas Iscariot. Shortly after Jesus dries Judas’ feet, those same feet carry him into the night to meet the authorities who will arrest Jesus.
Jesus loves all, always, without reserve. Jesus loves you and me, always, without our deserving his love or having earned his love. Jesus loves us without condition.
And Jesus commands us to do likewise. On this Maundy Thursday I think one of the most important ways we love one another is by not gathering to celebrate the liturgy. It is a loving act to sacrifice coming together in this church, hearing God’s Word; washing one another’s feet; receiving the Eucharist on this most solemn night; carrying the Sacrament to the Altar of Repose; and stripping the altar. Sacrificing how we typically keep Maundy Thursday that others might be safe.
This sacrifice is rooted in love. We follow the One who loves humanity lavishly and without reserve. May we do likewise. May we love others as Jesus loves us. Let us undertake acts of love on this Maundy Thursday.
May we pray for those who ill, anxious, and frightened; for the many who have died and all who mourn; for those who have lost income or their jobs; for first responders and medical personnel who sacrifice so much in love for others; for our political leaders that they serve the common good and make wise decisions for all people; for those searching for treatments and a vaccine; for an end to this terrible pandemic.
Perhaps you might show our love for one another by reaching out to someone who may be alone by giving them a call, sending a card or an email.
Or, if you have the means, undertake an act of love by making a donation to an agency or group caring for those in need; or participate in a Go Fund Me campaign for the favorite restaurant you can’t patronize now.
And remember to love yourself, being gentle with yourself, taking time to detach from world events, to be quiet, and pray. Look for the blessings and joys found even in this time of being isolated at home.
Today we enter those three holy days of the Triduum, the most sacred time of the year. Though we must refrain from how we typically keep these days, let us find new ways to keep them. Regardless of where we are and our circumstances this year, let us walk with Jesus through the final days of his earthly life and ministry. The way he walks is nothing less than the path of our salvation. Through his mighty acts he wins for us eternal salvation, bringing us from the brokenness of this world into his reign of love.
Jesus is with us always, even in this time of pandemic. He is present to us in whatever befalls us, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. And Jesus loves us always, now and forever.
In response to his great love shown us, let us one another as he loves us. By this others will know we are his disciples. May it be said of us, as it was said of the first Christians, “See how they love one another.” Amen.
April 5, 2020
A sermon for April 5, 2020, Palm Sunday. The scripture readings may be found here.
Today is Palm Sunday, when we enter the most solemn and sacred week of the entire year. In Holy Week we participate in those sacred mysteries by which our salvation was won for us. It is a week when time seems suspended. In these days the past, present, future are all caught up in God’s time. The boundaries of time and space are blurred. All belongs to God, every moment reveals God’s plan of salvation for humanity.
In these holy days we walk with Jesus as he journeys to the suffering and pain of the cross. The experience of Holy Week is an anticipation of the final consummation of time itself when we will enter eternity, coming to dwell with God, seeing God face to face.
But we may well ask how we walk through this week in a time of pandemic and social distancing. Unable to gather as a community, how can we keep Holy Week? This is an important question, one I have pondered since we suspended all liturgies and gatherings on March 15. How do we worship God when apart? How can we be a community, when we are physically isolated?
The answer to this question rests on a certain truth. Each year, whatever our circumstances and wherever we might find ourselves physically, emotionally, and spiritually, Holy Week and Easter happen. Each year this week is different. Each year we are different. This year this may be especially true for us. Through the ages the church has found ways to keep Holy Week, even in the midst of plague and persecution. We are challenged to do likewise this year.
What is certain is what we celebrate and commemorate in these sacred days has everything to do with the reality of our lives, with wherever we find ourselves. Holy Week and Easter are not dependent on us. We do not make these days happen. They do not arrive only if we are ready, or if we undertake certain things. How we feel, the emotions we experience, do not determine if Easter comes. Whether we feel it or not, whether we are ready or not, it is Palm Sunday today, and it will be Easter next Sunday.
Ultimately, these days are not about us, but about God entering into our daily life. In the person of Jesus, God comes into the fullness of human life in all its joys and all its sorrows. God enters into the sublime and the sinful of human experience. God is with us when we are grounded and in touch with God’s presence, and when we feel kinship with Ezekiel in the valley of dry, dusty bones.
So it is Palm Sunday even though we can’t gather in the church yard to wave palm branches and shout, “Hosanna!” Though we don’t cry out together, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” in the Passion Gospel, it is Holy Week. This year we move through these days in different ways. We worship online, gathering virtually. We find ways to mark and commemorate these important days in our homes, perhaps alone, or with those we live.
Earlier I read the traditional Passion Gospel. We do this each year. In reading Matthew’s account I am struck, as I am every year, of the full display of human behavior and emotions found in it.
There are the disciples, struggling to understand what is happening to Jesus. They seek to be faithful in accompanying him through these horrific moments. They promise to be with him, to not abandon him. Peter assures Jesus he will never deny him. Yet, as so often happens with our best intentions, the disciples do exactly what they promised not to. They flee at the end, at least the men do. Peter denies Jesus, not once but three times.
In the Passion Gospel we see deceit and betrayal. Judas, one of the twelve apostles, hands Jesus over to the authorities for some pieces of silver. He betrays Jesus with a kiss. This intimate gesture of close relationship is used by him for evil purposes, and must have hurt Jesus deeply. After his actions Judas is filled with remorse and despair, and takes his own life.
Pilate and the religious authorities are fearful of Jesus and concerned with holding on to their authority and power. They see Jesus as a threat to their positions. They fear the call to love and humility that Jesus lives. They won’t allow compassion and mercy from overtaking them, converting their hearts to the way of love seen in Jesus. So they try him in a mock trial and hand over for crucifixion.
But in the Passion we also have the example of the women. They have provided for Jesus and his disciples through the time of his public ministry. They are present at his cross. They follow to his tomb. And they will be the first to witness his resurrection. These women embody faithful, loving service, service done not for their gain, but for care for Jesus.
And we have Jesus. He behaves very differently from all others. In him is an example of hope, of rising above the fray and behaving a different way. In his Palm Sunday sermon, “The Things That Make For Peace,” Frederick Buechner says this week is about hope and despair: hope for the love of God seen in Jesus and for God’s presence in difficult times, and despair for humanity’s actions, our rejection of God’s saving love.
Buechner writes, “Despair and hope. They travel the road to Jerusalem together, as together they travel every road we take — despair at what in our madness we are bringing down on our own heads and hope in him who travels the road with us and for us and who is the only one of us all who is not mad. Hope in the King who approaches every human heart like a city. And it is a very great hope as hopes go and well worth all our singing and dancing and sad little palms because not even death can prevail against this King and not even the end of the world, when end it does, will be the end of him and of the mystery and majesty of his love. Blessed be he.” [A Room Called Remember]
Throughout the Passion Gospel Jesus is largely silent. He does not respond to the taunts heaped on him. He does not lash out under the pain and agony of the whip or the cross. He loves and he forgives those who hate and kill him.
One of the few things Jesus says in Matthews account are his final words from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Through the ages some have worried over these words. Had Jesus given up hope that God was with him in his suffering? Had God abandoned him on the cross? I think these words are actually a profound statement of trust in the moment of his terrible suffering. Jesus may have felt desolation in his passion, but he trusted God was present to hear his cry. He trust God would be with him in his agony, though he felt alone.
One commentary goes further, suggesting Jesus cries out not only for himself, but for all who suffer, especially those whose cry is never heard, those who feel utterly forsaken and alone, abandoned by God and by other people. This cry of Jesus is intended to move us, to touch us in the core of our being. We are to hear the cry of Jesus and in turn hear those around us who cry out for comfort.
Jesus invites everyone, from Pilate and the religious authorities, to the disciples and the women who follow, to you and me and all people, to hear his cry and follow in his way of love. Jesus calls us to reject all violence and hatred, to give up our quest for power and riches, and embrace the path of humble love.
Jesus stands ready to welcome all into the way he goes, a way where love is a power strong enough to sustain in times of great challenge, suffering, and loss. Jesus invites us into a love so strong, even the evil of sin and the hold of death are no match. Jesus is tortured, killed, and buried. But on the third day he is raised from the dead. The powers of this world, the powers of death itself, could not hold Love in its grip. The tomb could hold for long God’s love.
The promise given us this Palm Sunday is whatever may be before us, whatever may befall us in this life, Jesus has already experienced it. Whatever we might suffer, Jesus has suffered. Whatever griefs we might know, Jesus has known. Whenever we feel alone and abandoned, Jesus has felt this. When we might despair that God feels absent from us, Jesus has felt this too. And the death we will face, as all people will, Jesus has already endured.
The promise given us in Holy Week is Jesus is truly and utterly God-with-us, Emmanuel, the One who enters into the fullness of human life. Jesus knows all that experience, even in this time of illness, suffering, death, anxiety, and uncertainty.
From the cross Jesus assures us he is with us always. He understands what we experience. He walks beside us, supporting and comforting us. And he invites us to walk his way of love — not that it is easy, not that it insulates us from difficulty and suffering — but precisely because it is the way of true life.
Following Jesus is the way of abundant life in God. In Jesus is the promise that no powers of this world will overcome us. Just as God received Jesus when he died on the cross and brought him to resurrection life, so God will do for you and me.
I invite you on this Palm Sunday to enter into those mysteries which won for us eternal life. This time of staying at home, so that others might be healthy, is also a time of opportunity for us. May you find ways to faithfully journey through these days with Jesus. May you inspired and led by the Holy Spirit to finds ways to worship at home each day of this important and life-changing week.
And may you always know and trust that all of life is in God’s loving hands. Those hands will lovingly gather and redeem everyone. All are held by God in Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit for eternity. Amen.
March 29, 2020
Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Lent. The scripture lessons for that day may be found here.
Reading the same passages of scripture over the years, I am struck how each time the stories and words of the Bible are fresh and new. A passage read years ago looks different when read today. It is a clear sign that scripture is the living Word of God, speaking to us in fresh ways whenever we read it, under whatever circumstances.
This is true for me as I reflect on today’s readings. The lessons this morning are those assigned in the lectionary for the Sunday Eucharist on the Fifth Sunday in Lent. For decades I have heard these lessons. Yet today I understand them differently, see them as if chosen for this precise moment in our lives and the life of the world.
Psalm 130 seems written for this moment. The psalmist cries, “Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice; let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication.” How many of us have lifted our voices in prayer this week with words and emotions echoing this psalm?
In this time of pandemic we lift our voices to God, perhaps from what feels like the depths, asking that God hear us and deliver us. We pray for God to “consider well the voice of [our] supplication.” We pray that God hear our heartfelt intercessions for those who are ill, those who provide medical care, those who are anxious and fearful, those who have died, and those who mourn. We lift our voices to God for an end to this pandemic. We pray to God for ourselves and those we love.
But the psalmist doesn’t stop at crying out to God from the depths, hoping God hears that cry. Psalm 130 goes on to offer words of hope and trust in God. It says, “My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning. O Israel, wait for the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy; with him there is plenteous redemption…”
We are reminded to wait for God to respond, to expect God to answer our supplication. Psalm 130 assures us that with God there is mercy, there is abundant redemption. All that afflicts and ails us, that causes us worry and anxiety in the middle of the night, will end. God will deliver us. God will bring us safely through the challenges and trials of this life. There is no place God is not present, from which God cannot deliver us.
We hear in the Book of Ezekiel, a vision the prophet has. It is of a valley filled with dry, dusty bones. This seems the last place there could be life. It seems a place forgotten, far from God. It is image of defeat and desolation.
The Lord asks Ezekiel if these bones can live. It seems to me the obvious answer is, no, of course they can’t live. There is no life in these bones. Ezekiel does not directly answer the question, but replies God knows the answer. God tells Ezekiel to prophesy to the bones, that God’s spirit will enter them. Breath will enter them, sinews and flesh will be attached to the bones. They will live again.
So Ezekiel prophesies to the bones, and they begin rattling, bone coming to bone. Sinews, then flesh, then skin cover the bones. Finally, breath enters them, they stand on their feet, a great multitude.
God tells Ezekiel that in the despair of exile from their homeland, the people of Israel displaced and cut off, God can bring life to them. Though the people say in their great loss, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely,” yet God can redeem them.
God tells Ezekiel, “I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves.” God will do the seemingly impossible, and restore the people to their homeland. The time of disruption and dislocation will come to end. God will be faithful in keeping this promise. There will be new life for the people.
The promise of Ezekiel’s vision extends to us as well. God is with us, even when we feel the dryness of anxiety and worry. At times that feel dusty and lifeless, far from God’s presence, yet God is with us. From the seemingly hopeless times, God will bring forth life and renewal. And there is the promise that at the last God will not abandon us to the grave, but bring us to fullness of life for eternity.
The promise God will not abandon us to the grave, will not leave us in death, is found in our Gospel today. It is the account of Lazarus, a friend of Jesus, who has died. Before his death, the sisters of Lazarus, Mary and Martha, send word to Jesus that their brother is ill. Before Jesus arrives, Lazarus dies and is buried in a tomb.
On coming to the tomb, Jesus is “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.” The crowd witnessing this sees how much Jesus loved his friend. Jesus weeps at the tomb of Lazarus. This is one of the most touching and emotionally profound moments in the Gospels. It shows clearly the humanity of Jesus. The friend he loved has died, and Jesus is moved to emotion, to crying at his grave.
God is not oblivious to our pain and grief. God is not remote and far removed from us. In Jesus, God is present where we are, in our flesh and blood lives. Jesus is with us in our pain and sorrows, in our suffering and grief. Jesus knows what it is to suffer loss. Jesus rejoices when we rejoice, and weeps beside us when we weep. Jesus is with us to support and comfort us in all we experience.
After Jesus weeps, he calls for the stone of the tomb to be removed. Jesus prays to God, then calls in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” Miraculously, Lazarus comes out of the tomb, bound in his burial clothes.
Jesus has power even over death. There is no power in this world stronger than the love of God made known in Jesus through the power of the Holy Spirit. Just as the dry bones of Ezekiel’s vision were not beyond God’s power to bring life to the people, so the power of death and the grave is not beyond God’s reach.
The promise is that through the waters of baptism we die with Christ that we might also rise with him and share in his eternal life. As we heard in today’s reading from Paul’s Letter to the Romans, “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.”
After Lazarus comes out of the tomb, Jesus tells those around him, “Unbind him, and let him go.” Jesus comes to each of us this day to unbind us, to release us from what restricts and hinders us. Jesus desires fullness of life for us. Jesus comes that we are released from whatever holds us back from the life he intends for each of us, for every beloved child of God.
I invite you to reflect on what you might need release from this day? What is holding you back, keeping you from the fullness of life Jesus is inviting you to share? How is God present to you now, even in this challenging time of disruption and illness? Where is God leading you? Is there something preventing you from following? Something that is holding you back, causing you to hesitate?
Bring before God in prayer this day those attitudes, practices, and beliefs that keep you from the fullness of life God desires for you. Cast on Jesus all your burdens, worries, and doubts, trusting God can deliver you from them, will give you strength to move through them, and will redeem them.
Look for the times of joy and blessing in these days, for those moments of grace that break into each day, and offer them to God in prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving.
Though we must gather to worship on this Lord’s Day from a distance, though there is illness, suffering, and anxiety, I invite you to remember the promise we find in today’s scripture readings. God is with us, even in those places and times we feel are far from God’s reach. There is no place God’s love can’t go and can’t transform. God is with us in all the cares and occupations of our life, present with us, supporting us, and promising to deliver and defend us.
God is with us now and always, whatever befalls us, wherever we find ourselves. God will not abandon us, not even to the power of the grave. God desires to lead us into the richness of abundant life, to the fullness of life that is eternal.
May we accept this invitation, following Jesus where he leads. As Jesus assures Mary, Lazarus’ sister, in today’s Gospel, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
So Jesus promises you and me, this day, and always. Amen.
Sermon March 22, 2020
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, March 22, 2020. The scripture readings for this day are found by clicking here.
Let me begin this morning by welcoming all of you and thanking you for being part of this service of Morning Prayer. It is wonderful to gather virtually in this time of social distancing.
As followers of Jesus, we are a community, the body of Christ, who gather each Sunday. It is what we do and who we are. This morning I have renewed gratitude for the technology of social media that allow us to gather in community to worship God on the Lord’s Day. Though we are physically apart, the Holy Spirit flows among us, connecting us even now, wherever we are.
At the beginning of Lent, I suggested this holy season of preparation could be a wilderness time. A period of forty days and nights when the familiar practices and routine are stripped away so we can take stock of lives, repent, and return to God. Doing so reorients our lives toward God and prepares us to celebrate Holy Week and Easter.
Never could I imagine then the wilderness we would enter. As the COVID-19 pandemic brings the world to a standstill, our lives have dramatically changed. We are at home, learning new ways to do our work. We are learning how to be a virtual teacher or student. Hourly and service workers have lost hours or their jobs as restaurants and businesses have closed. Each day more people are sick and more have died. Health care workers are stretched thin and facing a shortage of supplies.
Like churches around the world, we can’t gather physically as a community. That means we are fasting from the Eucharist, the heavenly food that is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, the bread of life and the cup of salvation. This is a fast we did not choose, but is required of us.
It was starkly striking to pray today’s Collect of the Day. It says, “Gracious Father, whose blessed Son Jesus Christ came down from heaven to be the true bread which gives life to the world: Evermore give us this bread, that he may live in us, and we in him.” How we long for this bread in this time. Though Jesus continues to be present to us, we miss the particular way he feeds us in the Eucharist. It will be bliss to again receive the sacrament of our salvation one day.
Fasting from the Eucharist is just one way we are called to sacrifice. We are asked to remain home as much as possible. Certainly this is a sacrifice and challenging. We are asked to do this for the common good. Though we might be healthy, the less we interact with others, the greater the possibility the cycle of viral transmission is broken. Our sacrifice can literally save the life of a neighbor or family member or even ourselves.
This is a time of heightened anxiety and worry. We do not know what tomorrow holds, let alone next month. We are experiencing disruption and social dislocation. We worry for ourselves and those we love, as well for countless unnamed people suffering near and far.
How do we respond to these times? How do we move through each hour and day, for as long as this health crisis lasts? How are we the church when we cannot gather? What does it mean for us in this pandemic that we follow Jesus?
Several answers come to mind. The first is we must not lose heart. Despair is not the answer, not the way for us. This is not a naïve or sentimental posture on my part. It does not deny we are frightened, that we worry. It is not a denial that those we love, or we ourselves, may become ill.
Rather, it is an assertion that at all times we walk in the light of Christ. As we heard in our lesson from the Letter to the Ephesians, we are children of the light. We walk with the light of Christ illuminating our path. For millennia the followers of Jesus have persevered in the face of plague, pestilence, and persecution. They have held fast to the light of Jesus, especially in times that are bleak. We are called to do the same.
For we live by hope and we walk by faith, trusting in the power of God in the face of all adversity. That does not mean everything is fine. It is not to deny the challenge of the present reality. But the hope that is within us sustains us, allowing us to be faithfully grounded in Jesus. We believe his promise that he is with us always. He knows the suffering and trials of this world firsthand and is present with us in ours.
As it says in the Psalm appointed for today, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; you have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over. Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”
We trust that when we are fearful and worried, God is present in what we experience. When we are lonely, sad, or despairing, God is with us. God’s loving compassion for us is boundless, beyond our knowing. God is always with us. God will not abandon us—ever, no matter what.
Times like these call us to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through the Holy Spirit. We follow Jesus, walking the way of the cross with him. Sacrifice and loving service are the way he leads us, the way of love, the way of true life, the way of eternal life.
As the body of Christ we understand the call to sacrifice for the well being of others. We hear the call to care for all. That others may be healthy, we stay home. We buy only what we need—resisting the temptation to hoard groceries and supplies, depriving others of what they need. We reach out to others in compassion, especially those who are isolated, ill, or afraid.
In times when terrible things happen, when pandemic ravages the entire world, we may wonder where is God? Why doesn’t God stop this, now? This is a timeless question countless generations have asked. We do not fully know the mind of God. There are no easy or satisfying answers to this question. Our world is full of suffering and evil. Injustice abounds. Terrible things happen—even to good people. We wonder why. We look for a cause, an explanation.
In our Gospel today, Jesus heals a man blind from birth. His disciples ask him whose sin caused the man’s blindness, his or his parents. It was common in the first century to assume a condition like blindness was caused by someone’s sin. The disciples want an explanation, to know who caused the man’s blindness.
Often we search for meaning by assigning blame. Knowing a cause, having someone to blame, helps us cope with a situation. But Jesus rejects this understanding. He says no one’s sin caused the man’s blindness. Rather, his blindness is an occasion for the works of God to be revealed. Through the sign of Jesus healing the man, Jesus is revealed as the Son of God. Jesus is does God’s work, the presence of God dwells in him. Through this sign, the man born blind comes to believe and worships Jesus.
This pandemic is a time for us to ask how is God being revealed now? How is God present to us in this moment? Where do we see the work of God? Where is God at work in our lives? How can we be instruments of God, revealing God to others, doing the work of God even now, in this challenging time.
Our call is to walk in the light of Christ, following Jesus, the One who makes God known in his words and his deeds. He is the light of the world. We are called to see the world through his light, gazing on all people through his light, with eyes of love, mercy, compassion, and generosity.
The Pharisees in today’s Gospel are blind to the work of God in the healing of the blind man. They are sure Jesus is a sinner, not of God. They are certain the healing is not of God. Jesus threatens their understanding of God and their religious practices and authority. They are “blind” to who Jesus is and the sign he does.
Seeing Jesus can be challenging. He calls us out of our assumptions, away from what we may be sure we know about the world and about God. Jesus invites into a new way of seeing, a new reality of being. This new way of seeing is not how the world sees. For Jesus calls us away from the world and into the divine life of God, where we are bathed in light of God’s love. By that light of love, everything looks very different. Everyone looks very different.
Jesus came into the world that we might see, understanding who he is through the signs he does. He comes to open our eyes, that we see God present and at work even now, in the midst of so much disruption, anxiety, and illness. As it says in the beloved hymn: “I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see…and grace my fears relieved.” Jesus assures us he is with us always, in whatever we experience. He will not leave us. He will not let us go. At the last he will gather us into the fullness of his reign, to the heavenly banquet he prepares for us.
May we reflect the light of God’s love to others, that they may see God present and at work in this moment, and give glory to God. Let us cast on God all our cares and our burdens, rejoicing in God’s promise to be with us always, even to the end of the age. And let us ask how God would have us be the church, and how we are being called to witness to Christ’s love in this time of trial. Amen.
March 22, 2020
At the beginning of Lent I suggested this holy season of preparation before celebrating the mysteries of our salvation at Holy Week and Easter could be a wilderness time. This could be a period of forty days and nights when familiar externals and routine are stripped away so we can take stock of lives, repent, and return to God.
Never did I imagine we would enter a wilderness time as we have. As the COVID-19 pandemic brings the world to a standstill, our lives have dramatically changed. Many of us are at home, learning new ways to do our work or be a teacher or student. Hourly and service workers have lost jobs as restaurants and businesses have closed. Each day more people are sick and more have died.
As a parish, like churches around the world, we can’t gather physically as a community. We are fasting from the Eucharist, the heavenly food that is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, the bread of life and cup of salvation. This is a fast we did not choose, but is required of us.
We are asked to remain home as much as possible. Certainly this is a sacrifice and challenging. We are asked to do this for the common good. Though we might be healthy, the less we interact with others, the greater the possibility the cycle of viral transmission is broken. Our sacrifice can literally save the life of a neighbor.
This is a time many, if not all of us, know heightened anxiety and worry. We do not know what next month holds, let alone tomorrow. We are experiencing disruption and social dislocation. We worry for ourselves and those we love, as well as countless unnamed people suffering near and far.
How do we respond to these times? How do we move through each hour and day, for as long as this healthy crisis lasts? How are we the church when we cannot gather? What does it mean in this pandemic that we follow Jesus?
Several answers come to mind. The first is we must not lose heart. Despair is not the answer. This is not a naïve or sentimental posture. It does not mean we are not sometimes frightened, that we do not worry. It does not mean we or those we love will not become ill.
Rather, it is to assert that at all times we walk in the light of Christ. We are children of the light, baptized into the body of Christ. For centuries the followers of Jesus have persevered in the face of plague, pestilence, and persecution.
We live by hope. That does not mean all is fine. We do not deny the present reality. But the hope that is within us sustains us so we remain faithfully grounded in Jesus. We believe his promise that he is with all us through all ages. That he knows the suffering and trials of this world firsthand and present with us in ours.
We live trusting that when we are fearful and worried, God is present in what we experience. God’s loving compassion for us is boundless, beyond our knowing. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, yet God is with us. God will not abandon us—ever, no matter what.
Times like these call us proclaim the good news of God in Christ through the Holy Spirit. We follow Jesus, walking the way of the cross with him. Sacrifice and loving service are the way of love, the way to true life, even the way to eternal life.
In these challenging times, I offer these suggestions of how we, as the body of Christ, might respond to this moment. There are likely others. Please share your thoughts with me.
- Pray without ceasing. A great need we have now is for fervent prayer. Pray for those who are ill; for those who have died and those who grieve; for first responders and medical perssonel; for those who are anxious and frightened; for our elected officials that they will act for the common good; for a vaccine; for an end to this pandemic. If you feel lonely, fearful, worried, or anxious, lift these to God in prayer, asking for comfort and a sense of God’s presence. If you are thankful, experience a moment of grace, or even joy, express this in prayer to God. Grace and joy still abound in this trying time.
- Connect with others by email, text, phone, or social media. If you feel isolated or lonely, reach to out to someone. My guess is you both will be blessed by the connection. If you are interested and willing to help check on other parishioners, please let me know. I will compile a list of folks willing to check regularly on others in our community.
- Are you healthy and not at heightened risk (under 60 without underlying health conditions)? Perhaps you would run errands (groceries, pharmacy, deliver food, etc.) for people at home? As more people become ill, this will be a greater need. If you can help in this way, please let me know.
- People have lost jobs and regular income. If you are able, please consider making financial contributions. You may donate to the Rector’s Discretionary Fund, used to help people in need. You may send a donation to Camp Street Ministries whose food donations from churches have stopped.
- Take Sabbath time. Set aside a day for quiet, reflection, restorative activities. If you live with others, commit to time together. Consider limiting time spent consuming news, giving yourself a respite. Talk a walk or bike in a quiet place (maintaining social distancing).
- Prayer daily with those you live with. Read from scripture. Pray with the Book of Common Prayer (a PDF version is available here).
This is a Lent like no other in our lifetime. This is a health crisis like none of us have seen. With the challenge comes the opportunity for us to live in new ways and be the church within the realities of this time.
May we ask where God is leading us, discerning how we are called to be the church now. May we not lose heart, but trust God is with us. We have been marked as Christ’s own forever. That promise is trustworthy and true. God will not abandon us, now or ever. Let us walk in the light of Christ, proclaiming the hope that is within us.
I pray for you all fervently each day. Please keep me in your prayers. If you are in need, please reach out to me by email, text, or call. I am available, as always, except for Sunday afternoon through Monday night when I take my Sabbath time. And of course in an emergency I am always available.
May God be with all us now and always. May you know the loving presence of God always.
March 15, 2020
Below is the text of a sermon I intended to preach on Sunday, March 15, 2020, the Third Sunday in Lent (Year A) before the Governor asked churches cancel Sunday liturgies in response to the COVID-19 virus pandemic.
I begin this morning by reading a Pastoral Letter from Bishop Knisely, who asked it be read today from the pulpits of all churches in our Diocese.
Dear People of God;
It has been many years since we have been confronted with a situation like we are this weekend due to the spread of the COVID-19 virus. Yet the people who came before us managed this sort of thing and came through it. We will too. We are supported by prayer, by the presence of the Holy Spirit in our midst and by our love of one another.
We are in a state-declared medical emergency. We are also people who, through our baptism, have put our faith and hope in Jesus and the powerful love of God. We are called to live fearless lives – and not to be careless of others. Please be attentive and follow the directions of the Health Department and other authorities.
I am writing to let you know that I have been in communication with the clergy of this diocese and directed them to make some changes in our regular worship, and I have made it clear that I support the decisions they make along with you in how best to respond to this emergency. Some of our communities have decided it is best to close their building for a few weeks. Some are going to continue to hold services, though with modifications.
In an effort to keep people safe – both our neighbors and ourselves – I am directing that Holy Communion be distributed as bread only for the duration of the emergency. I have told the clergy that if they are not feeling well, they are not to serve at the altar. I’ve also made some recommendations about keeping our distance from each other at the peace, not passing the offering plates, and about coffee hour.
I ask that you, too, be careful if you are not feeling well. Please let us know so that we can provide pastoral support and care as best we can and pray for you.
Please be in touch with your neighbors. Please reach out to those who are alone. A phone call and a listening heart can do wonders to help.
In our congregations there may be people who need to stay home right now because they are at risk. Please think about how we can help them. If we don’t have contact information, it would be good to gather and share that now.
I believe in the power of prayer, especially when people of faith join their united voices and lift their concerns to God. I ask you to join me in prayer that this moment will pass quickly, that the vulnerable and those in danger will be protected and that we may be a sign of hope to our communities.
We have posted resources for prayer and worship at home on the diocesan website (www.episcopalri.org). Prayers for the sick may be found on pages 458-460 in The Book of Common Prayer.
I commend this prayer, adapted from one written by Bishop Thomas Brown of Maine:
Jesus Christ, you traveled through towns and villages “curing every disease and illness.” At your command, the sick were made well. Come to our aid now, in the midst of the global spread of the coronavirus. Heal those who are sick with the virus; may they regain their strength and health through quality medical care. Heal us from our fear, which prevents nations from working together and neighbors from helping one another. Be present with those in authority who are making hard decisions. Support the medical professionals, emergency responders and our caregivers. In your name Jesus we pray. Amen.
May the God who is Love itself, the one in whom we put our trust, and who is the ground of our hope, be with you today and always.
I want to begin this morning by offering my gratitude to Bishop Knisely for his leadership during this pandemic. He has offered clear and helpful guidelines and has been a support to parish clergy.
I am also extremely grateful for the leadership of this parish. The Vestry and Building Use Committee have taken seriously the threat before us and followed the suggested practices of state and federal agencies, as well as the Bishop’s Office. They have been a great help and support to me. The situation before us is greater than my wisdom alone. Our faithful parish leaders have offered sound counsel and advice, and together we are striving to make the best decisions for the well being of the parish and all citizens of our state.
Thankfully, we continue to gather for worship of God. In times like these, gathering as a community for prayer is important and a comfort. It is time when we come together to support one another. But we do so with changes, such as keeping six feet of distance from one another, not shaking hands or hugging, not drinking from the common cup at communion, receiving communion standing in the center aisle rather than using the altar rail where we are in close proximity.
My hope is we may continue to gather in person for worship through this time. We shall see what the coming weeks hold. Whether we are present in this space, or worshiping God from a distance, I believe we have important work to do as we negotiate this outbreak of the COVID-19 virus.
Around us people are experiencing fear and anxiety. Maybe all of us are. Friday afternoon, before the Stations of the Cross began, a young woman stopped her car on Hope Street, approached me and asked if everything was ok. I assured it was and that I was outside greeting people before Stations. She immediately exhaled and looked more relaxed. Then she asked if I would pray with her for calm in the face anxiety.
I feel we all are holding our breath now. It is uncertain what we will face in this coronavirus outbreak. The most extreme scenarios are beyond frightening. But as followers of Jesus we are called to not lose heart. We are called to resist falling into despair. We are to trust in God, believing whatever happens to the body we are safe with God. God will not abandon us. The power and hold of death is broken through the death and resurrection of Jesus, and with it the power of despair and hopelessness. We can hold onto the certainty of that hope in this time.
As we celebrate this Eucharist, I invite you to lay before God your cares, concerns, and worries. Offer prayers for those who are ill and those who have died. Pray that God will bring this health crisis to an end. Pray that all people act with compassion and caring for their neighbor. Cast on God your fears and anxieties, letting Jesus help carry your burdens and be a balm to your worried spirit.
As followers of Jesus, our call is to bring the calming presence of God to a world torn upside down by anxiety. We are to care for our neighbors, in this parish and in the neighborhoods where we live. Those of us who are well have an obligation to have concern for those in need. Perhaps we can help by bringing them needed supplies, groceries, or food. A phone call, text message, or email to one who is isolated can be a great comfort and a connection to a community lost in illness. It can mean the world to anyone feeling alone and isolated.
We can also be a witness to compassion and caring. I have been horrified by people hoarding food and supplies. I have read news accounts of people buying all available hand sanitizer and selling it at inflated prices. These actions prevent those in need from having basic necessities. Especially those without disposable incomes are unable to purchase in bulk and now have difficulty buying the basics they need. We follow Jesus, the one who owned nothing and served all, especially the least, the forgotten, the outcast, and the vulnerable. We are called to do likewise.
In our Gospel today (John 4:5-42) Jesus encounters the Samaritan woman at the well. It is noon, the heat of the day. She has come to gather water. The hour suggests she is avoiding other people. She undertakes the arduous labor of lugging heavy water at the hottest part of the day, the time others will not be at the well. She carries shame that isolates her from the community.
Though forbidden by religious practice and custom to interact with the unnamed woman, Jesus speaks with her. He acknowledges her, he sees the one who is a social outcast. He engages her in conversation. He rejects the divisive practices of his day.
Jesus knows the woman before she speaks. He knows who she is. Though she has had five husbands, and is now with a man not her husband, he does not condemn her. Instead Jesus offers her living water, water that quenches one’s deepest thirst.
She asks Jesus to give her this water and in the conversation recognizes him as the Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed of God. She tells other people in the city about Jesus, and they come to see him and believe in him.
Jesus knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows our story and what we carry this day. He knows what burdens we bear. Jesus comes offering us living water, the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit, dwelling within us.
In Jesus, the woman at well finds acceptance and welcome. She is understood, her life story is known and not judged by Jesus. She is able to let go of her shame and believe in him. In Jesus she finds compassion. Jesus invites her to see and understand who he is that she might worship God in spirit and truth.
Jesus extends the same invitation to us. Jesus comes to us in welcome and acceptance, offering us the water of the Spirit that assuages our deepest thirst. Then Jesus bids us go into the fields that are ripe for harvest, sharing the good news of God’s love, acceptance, and compassion to a world that is thirsting for the good news of God.
In this time of fear and anxiety, may we not lose heart, but instead bring all our cares and worries to Jesus. May we drink from the deep well of his love, that his abiding presence sustain us in our trials. And may we always be people of love and compassion, serving others in this time of trial. Through our words and deeds may we faithfully proclaim the loving kindness of God to those most needing to hear this good news.
This day Jesus bids us to not be afraid. He will not leave us comfortless. He is with us always, even to the end of the age. Amen.
March 8, 2020
Sunday we hear the story Abraham’s call (Genesis 12:1-4a). God calls him to set out on a journey without telling him where he is going. He is asked to simply follow. This journey takes Abraham from all that is familiar, including his home and the land of his ancestors. God promises to bring him to a land where he will prosper and his descendants will be many. All who come into contact with Abraham will be blessed by him, just as God blesses him. The lesson ends, “So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.”
I find it astounding Abraham uproots his entire life, setting out on a journey knowing so few details. Yet, in faithfully accepting God’s call, much is accomplished through Abraham and his descendants do indeed become a mighty nation. He comes to see that God is trustworthy, keeping the covenant made with Abraham, and through him, with his descendants.
Lent is often described as a journey. It begins with the invitation of God to keep a holy Lent, returning to God through repentance. This call is expressed in Greek by metanoia, meaning to literally turn to a new direction or put on a new mindset.
This season offers us the chance to break out of our routine, even the monotony, of our lives. We are called to turn in a new direction, putting on a new mindset, travelling to new spiritual territory.
Repetition of daily patterns can lead to stagnation. We can stop growing and changing in the land of the familiar. We can become indifferent to the landscape. Like Abraham, setting out to a new place brings fresh perspective. Journeying in an unknown land allows our awareness to be awakened. W.H. Auden, in his For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio, writes, “He is the Way. Follow him through the Land of Unlikenss; you will see rare beasts and have unique adventures” (Hymn 463/64).
During Lent we may travel through a wilderness that can be frightening, disorienting, and full of “wild beasts.” Like the forty days and nights Jesus spent in the wilderness, it can be time that clarifies our priorities. The wilderness journey gives us a time to strip away past behaviors and reorient our lives, focusing anew on God’s call to us.
On Ash Wednesday we heard the invitation to observe a holy Lent from the Book of Common Prayer (p. 264). It offers several practices for this season. They include self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.
Several Lenten services are offered, such as daily weekday Morning Prayer at 9 am and Stations of the Cross Fridays at 6 pm. There is the Lenten Program, at which we discuss the book The Death of Race by Brian Bantum. These may be helpful Lenten practices that offer new perspectives and open us to God in fresh ways.
As we enter the second week in Lent, may we accept God’s call to set out on this journey. Through our Lenten disciplines and practices may we open ourselves to the new landscape of the soul. God desires to bring us to a new place, one where we are drawn closer to the heart of God. In this land is abundant life with God. It is a place where we are blessed and we can be a blessing to others.
March 1, 2020
Our Lenten journey began this past week with Ash Wednesday. That day ashes made from last year’s palm branches were used to make a cross on our foreheads. This was a symbol of penitence and our mortality. We confessed our sins, rejoiced in God’s forgiveness. And we acknowledged our need for God, who through Baptism marks and claims us as Christ’s own for eternity.
Sunday we hear of Jesus being led into the wilderness where he fasts for 40 days and 40 nights (Matthew 4:1-11). Before his time in the wilderness, Jesus is baptized by John the Baptist in the River Jordan. After his baptism the Spirit descends on Jesus in bodily form. The Spirit leads Jesus into the wilderness.
While fasting in the wilderness, Jesus faces the fullness of his humanity, expressed in temptations. Jesus eats nothing for 40 days and is famished. The devil comes to him, tempting him to make bread for himself from the stones. Jesus does not, however, yield to this, or any of the temptations Satan offered.
We begin the first full week of our Lenten journey focused on Jesus and his fast. In our land of abundance food is readily available for those who are middle class. We can eat what we want, when we want it, even if it is out of season. Rarely, if ever, are we short on food or go without what we might want to eat. In this abundance, our temptations and impulses may go unrecognized.
The call to fast as Jesus did is an opportunity to engage in what may be a new practice. In doing something new, something different, our awareness can be heightened. Deciding not to eat something for a day, or the entire season of Lent, can help us see our cravings and their power in our life. This knowledge may help us to become more disciplined and open us up to deeper relationship with God.
For many of us Lent carries memories of a difficult season focused on our sinfulness and unworthiness. Lent is not a time to feel guilty or unworthy. Its goal is not to punish us or make us miserable. Rather, this season calls us to become vulnerable, honestly examining our lives, and embracing practices and disciplines that will turn us anew to God. The goal of this season is bringing freshness to our spiritual lives, so we are drawn deeper into the loving relationship God desires
Traditionally this is done in Lent by prayer, fasting and self-denial, giving alms, and reading and meditating on God’s Word. Making time for God through new practices, our perspective changes. We can see ourselves through fresh eyes and be newly aware of God’s presence in our lives and the world.
This journey is demanding and challenging. But Jesus walks with us. Though he was without sin, he knew the power of temptation and human desires. Resting in him we have the power to feel and acknowledge our temptations without giving into them. When cravings come, we can assert our need for God, turning anew to God, asking for God’s strength.
During this season of Lent may we you find ways to break the routine of life, entering into new practices that open our eyes and hearts to our need for God. May our Lenten practices and disciplines give us a renewed awareness of God’s love and mercy. This season offers us a deeper relationship with God, our neighbor, ourselves, and creation, which is the foretaste of eternal life with God that is to come.
February 23, 2020
Manifest on mountain height, shining in resplendent light, where disciples filled with awe thy transfigured glory saw, when from there thou leddest them steadfast to Jerusalem, cross and Easter Day attest God in man made manifest. [Hymn 135, words by F. Bland Tucker (1895-1984)]
Sunday is the Last Sunday after the Epiphany. This season of Sundays is counted from the Feast of the Epiphany, and its length determined by the date of Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. This year Lent begins next Wednesday, February 26.
The Epiphany, a feast celebrated on January 6, reveals Jesus to the Gentiles. In the early days of this season we commemorated the arrival of those mysterious Magi from the East, the Baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan, and the wedding feast at Cana where Jesus turns water into wine.
This Sunday we hear the account of Jesus being transfigured (Matthew 17:1-9). Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a high mountain. His appearance is transfigured, becoming glowing white. Moses and Elijah appear, talking with him. God’s voice is heard, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
This final revelation of the season gives the three disciples a glimpse of the glory that is Jesus’ resurrected nature. From this mountain top experience, Jesus turns toward Jerusalem where he is handed over, crucified, and buried. On the third day God raises Jesus from the dead. The three disciples on the mountain glimpse that glory, seeing the fullness of Jesus’ nature, if only briefly.
Each year on the Sunday before Lent we close out this season of manifestation, of the showing forth Jesus’ divine nature, with this story of transfiguration. In our calendar we are moving from the part of the year focused on Christmas, the incarnation, to the time centered on the yearly festival of Easter, on redemption and resurrection.
Before we arrive at the glory of the resurrection, however, we have a season of preparation. Just as the disciples journeyed with Jesus to Jerusalem, being taught along the way, preparing for what was ahead, so we have forty days to prepare.
Lent is the time to honestly look at our lives and assess how we are living. How is our relationship with God? Are we faithful in worship? Do we pray daily? Are we open to God’s desire for relationship, opening our hearts to God’s love? Are we caring for ourselves, treating well our bodies that are temples of God’s Spirit, made in God’s image? Do we love our neighbor? Are generously caring for those in need? Do we welcome those forgotten and at the margins? Are we faithful stewards of all God has given us, sharing generously what we has been entrusted to our care?
On Ash Wednesday we hear words from the Book of Common Prayer (p. 264) inviting us to keep a holy Lent. The BCP tells us this season is marked by self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and reading and meditating on God’s Word. None of this is done to punish us. Nor are these things done for self-improvement alone.
Rather, we are called to something more profound and holy: namely to examine our lives, repent of our failings and sinfulness, and do those things that open us to deeper, more faithful relationship with God. These days of Lent are a time to be honest with ourselves about the state of our lives and take on practices that will reorient us to God. This is the season to cast off, to give up, those things which are impediments to the holy life we are called to live as followers of Jesus.
In these final days before Lent, I invite you to take time to examine your life, to pray for discernment of God’s call this Lent.
Some questions to focus our discernment include: What are the practices God is calling us to undertake this Lent? What are the things we need to let go off? What practices and habits impede our relationship with God now?
Lent provides the opportunity to be intentional in how we live. In doing so we are promised a share in the resurrection life God desires for us. Though we only catch glimpses of resurrection life now, walking with Jesus we will know it fully in the age to come. Lent offers the time to open ourselves more deeply to the life God desires for us even now, in this age.
February 20, 2020
Increasingly I find myself disturbed by the level of discourse and rhetoric found in our nation’s political discourse. What were once the taunts of children on the playground are becoming the norm in public interaction. Name calling, bullying, and disrespectful words are used by elected political leaders on both sides of the aisle.
This concerns me because we are better, as a people, than this behavior. Mean spirited rhetoric does little to foster the kind of mutual respect and cooperation we need to work through our differences and address the substantial challenges facing this nation. Retreating into warring camps that view others as the enemy will not accomplish much beyond dividing us.
In our Gospel Sunday (Matthew 5:21-37) Jesus calls us to live in a different way. Chapter 5 of Matthew’s Gospel opens with the Beatitudes. These statements of blessedness are a call to God’s people. Just as God blesses us, so we are to be a blessing to others. The Beatitudes are both a statement of God’s reality that will be fully known at the end of the age and a call to action in the present.
Jesus calls us to make real God’s priorities now, here on earth. Like God we are to love all, showing others mercy and compassion. We are to reflect the light of God’s love to all people, seeing everyone as a beloved child of God. Seeing other people as beloved, even those who differ with us, has implications for our behavior.
In the passage we hear Sunday Jesus calls us to a high standard of behavior. It is one that requires we do not act from our impulses and inclinations. While we may become angry and seek revenge for a wrong someone has committed against us, Jesus calls us to check our impulse and act from love.
Jesus presents a new teaching. His statements begin with the words, “You have heard it was said from ancient times.” Jesus offers the received teaching of the Ten Commandments and expands and deepens it. His teaching is introduced with, “But I say to you.”
Jesus teaches, “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council.”
In forbidding murder, God intends we do not harm another person. Murder is an extreme example of harm. While seemingly less serious, Jesus says anger is dangerous. Unchecked it can lead to physical violence and even murder. It can lead to mistreatment of others, verbally or physically. Anger hurts the person holding it. It takes hold of one’s heart. Jesus cautions against even calling someone “fool.” Doing so is cause for judgment. Words have power and can hurt. Hurtful words tear apart the community and cause division.
Jesus is not saying we should accept any behavior of others or make peace with injustice and oppression. In his earthly life Jesus regularly calls for justice and names the behaviors that should change. But he always does so respecting the dignity of each person. He speaks with love for the other. He does not bully, demean, or belittle. When a person won’t change their behavior he is sad and looks on them with compassion.
Jesus reminds us we are called to a high standard of behavior. It requires we check our impulses and first responses, and not act from emotion. We are to speak with love, showing respect even to our adversaries. While we fight injustice we are to be respectful of others and work to build up the body through love.
If we as a community faithfully live this call from Jesus, I believe we can be a real beacon to the world. Having as a core practice the respect of others as we build up the body through love, we offer a strong witness to the world. The light of God’s love will indeed shine through us and the kingdom of heaven will touch earth. We will blessed by God and a blessing to all we meet.
February 2, 2020
February 2 is the Feast of the Presentation of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple. It is one of a small number of feasts that are celebrated on Sunday. It is forty days after Christmas and commemorates Mary and Joseph presenting the baby Jesus in the temple as required for all first born sons according to the law.
Known also as Candlemas, this feast brings to a close the incarnation cycle of the liturgical year and is the last feast whose date is fixed in relation to Christmas. On Ash Wednesday we begin the part of the calendar where dates are determined by the date of Easter (which, unlike Christmas, moves from year to year). In France, this feast is the day to take down the manger scene, putting the crèche in storage until next year.
The Presentation is one of the oldest feasts in the calendar. In the fourth century, a nun named Egeria made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Likely from Spain, she walked to Palestine and spent several years there. In her diary she recorded details of the liturgies she attended.
Egeria writes that the Presentation in fourth century Jerusalem was “observed with special magnificence. On this day they assemble in the Anastasis [site of the crucifixion and tomb of Jesus]. Everyone gathers, and things are done with the same solemnity as at the feast of Easter. All the presbyters preach first, then the bishop, and they interpret the passage form the Gospel about Joseph and Mary taking the Lord to the Temple, and about Simeon and the prophetess Anna, daughter of Phanuel, seeing the Lord and what they said to him, and about the sacrifice offered by the parents. When all the rest has been done in the usual way, they celebrate the sacrament and have their dismissal” [Egeria’s Travels, Wilkinson, Third Edition, 1999, pp. 147-8].
Egeria’s description sounds similar to how we will celebrate on Sunday. We too will hear the account of this event in Luke’s Gospel (Luke 2:22-40). It describes Mary and Joseph bringing Jesus to the temple where they make the sacrifice required. Being poor, they purchase two pigeons, not able to afford a lamb. In the temple they encounter the prophet Simeon. The Holy Spirit told him he would see the Messiah come to the Temple, and the Spirit leads him to find the Child that day.
In response to meeting Jesus, Simeon says the words we call the Nunc dimittis, the Song of Simeon [BCP p 66, p. 120]. In his canticle, he proclaims Jesus “A Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people Israel.” Because of his words, there is the tradition of beginning the Eucharist on this day with a procession while carrying lighted candles, which we will do on Sunday.
The Collect of the Day for the Presentation asks God, “that, as your only-begotten Son was this day presented in the temple, so we may be presented to you with pure and clean hearts by Jesus Christ our Lord.” Jesus is revealed in this feast as the Light of the world. He is the One who redeems us, purifying us and making us worthy through his death and resurrection.
May we always walk in his Light, allowing him to illumine our path, leading us into all righteousness. At the last may he bring us to the fullness of his reign, where he presents us to God, and where we will dwell with him for eternity.
January 26, 2020
This Sunday we read the account from the Gospel according to Matthew of Jesus calling his first disciples (Matthew 4:12-23). It is a striking passage. As Jesus walks along the sea of Galilee he sees two brothers, Peter and Andrew, casting their nets. They are fishermen busy at work. Jesus says to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they leaves their nets and follow Jesus. Jesus does the same with James and John, the sons of Zebedee. They immediately leave their boat and their father and follow Jesus.
Each year when we read the account of Jesus calling his first disciples I am amazed by the story. These men go to work and in the course of the day their lives are upended. They leave behind their work, their families, and all their possessions to follow Jesus.
What was it about Jesus that made this possible? What was so compelling in his invitation to these men? When I imagine the scene I see these fishermen overtaken by Jesus’ invitation. There is something about him, they way he interacts with them, that they cannot resist. They must see in him something so compelling as to overtake them, allowing them to give up so much to follow.
The experience of Peter, Andrew, James, and John is the Christian experience. Though we all must, at some point decide to respond and follow Jesus, it all begins with Jesus choosing us. Like these first disciples, we have been called by Jesus into the community of his body. We have been called by hime into this parish community.
The call to which we respond may be different from these men who left everything and everyone they knew to follow. Most of us are not called to leave our professions and possessions behind in order to follow Jesus. But we are all called to leave behind the world we know and enter the new world into which Jesus calls us.
This new world into which Jesus invites us is one in which we give over our heart, mind, and will to be disciples. We allow Jesus to shape and form us into the people we are created to be. We give our all in following Jesus and proclaiming the Good News through our deeds and words.
In saying yes to following Jesus, we become evangelists. Our call is to invite others to know Jesus, to come and see who Jesus is. It is our task to share our experience of life with Jesus with those we meet.
Like those first disciples, may our hearts burn within us with love for Jesus. May we let the light of Christ shine within us for all to see. May we share a faith that is so vibrant and exciting as to be contagious, drawing others to come and see what we experience.
January 19, 2020
The Sundays after the Epiphany illustrate what it means that God comes among us in the person of Jesus. In the incarnation God stoops to humanity, the eternal Word present at creation puts on flesh, and is born a vulnerable baby. Our call, as followers of Jesus, is to understand as best we can what God has done, and is doing, in the incarnation, and then respond to God’s loving initiative.
A starting place is asking who is Jesus? Why has he come among us? What does it mean for us and the world that God has put on human flesh, walking among us in the person Jesus? Epiphany is a Greek word meaning “to be manifest” or “revealed.” In this week’s Gospel John the Baptist reveals to us who Jesus is.
In Sunday’s passage (John 1:29-42) John sees Jesus and says, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” The image of Jesus as the Lamb is found throughout the New Testament. It is also our logo, as a parish dedicated to Jesus the Redeemer. At one level it is an odd choice, given a lamb is a vulnerable creature, not especially strong or fierce.
Yet the Lamb of God shows who Jesus is: the one who lays done his life. Jesus, the Lamb of God, is like the lambs slaughtered at the Passover. He gives completely of himself, accepting even death. Through his offering the very power of sin and death is destroyed and we are set free to love.
The Lamb comes taking away the sins of the world, setting us free from sin, from all that keeps us from loving abundantly as God loves. Like Jesus, we are to give away our lives to find the true life God offers. Through the Lamb of God we have the strength to do so.
John’s witness to Jesus as the Lamb of God causes two of John’s disciples to follow Jesus. Everything about John points to Jesus. His mission is not about himself, but witnesses to the coming of Jesus. John prepares the way for all Jesus does.
When Jesus sees these two disciples, who turn out to be Andrew and Simon (whom Jesus renames Peter), he asks them, “What are you looking for?” Perhaps they are uncertain how to answer, for they reply with a question, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” Jesus tells them, “Come and see.”
Rather than explaining what Jesus is doing or hopes to accomplish through his ministry and how precisely the disciples might fit into this, he offers the invitation to experience. They are invited to be with Jesus, entering into relationship with him, learning who he is.
The invitation to experience and relationship is where Jesus starts in calling his first followers. It remains an important piece of the Christian life. Those who study church growth observe that the most effective way to build a community is through invitation of those we know. Inviting those with whom we have a relationship to come and experience our community is the best way to grow the parish. Just as Andrew goes to Simon Peter and invites him to meet Jesus, so we are called to invite others to come and see. Those invited by someone they know are more likely to join the community.
All of us are seeking. Jesus asks us what we seek, and offers the invitation to come and see what life with him means. We will only know if we set out and follow. There is no other way. The promise is that because he is the Lamb of God, he sets us free from everything that alienates us, allowing us to love abundantly.
Like the John the Baptist, may all we do point to Jesus, that through our witness God is revealed in Jesus, and others come to know his promise. Who can you invite to come and see all we experience in this parish community?
January 12, 2020
On Monday we entered the season after the Epiphany. Epiphany is a Greek word meaning “revelation” or “manifestation.” In these weeks after the Epiphany, we discover the true nature of the Child of Bethlehem.
On January 6 we remembered the Wise Men from the East, those astrologers who bring gifts to the Child and worship him. Their visit reveals Jesus as the Savior of the entire world, including Gentiles. These astrologers are the first Gentiles to worship Jesus.
This week we celebrate the Baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the River Jordan (Matthew 3:13-17). This event in the life of Jesus has, from the early days of the church, been part of the Epiphany. It reveals Jesus as the Son of God. After he is baptized, the Holy Spirit is poured out on him in bodily form as a dove. A voice from heaven is heard, declaring, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
The Child born of Mary is fully human, and is also the fully divine Son of God. The scene of Jesus’ baptism tells us who he is and why he comes among us. In Jesus God puts on human flesh to lift humanity to the fullness of the divine life of the Trinity.
At the heart of the divine life is being beloved of God. At baptism we are baptized into the Name of God. We put on the identity of Jesus, being incorporated into his body. We are empowered to be his presence in the world. And we become children of God, the beloved of God.
On Sunday Kate, daughter of Rebecca and Daniel Coleman, will enter the household of God through the waters of baptism. She will be baptized into the Name of the Trinity, putting on Christ as her own identity. Her parents, Godparents, and the entire congregation will promise to support her in her new life, as she grows into the full stature of Christ, the life of a beloved child of God.
God’s call to live as God’s beloved child is demanding. It can be challenging for us to live the life of “belovedness.” Our society gives us many messages of how we are not as we should be. The world is predicated on some people having more value, having more worth, than others. People are viewed as commodities, part of an economic system. The intrinsic value and inherent worth of each person is commonly overlooked or ignored.
In his book, Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World (Crossroad, 2001), Henri J.M. Nouwen writes of the struggle many people have in claiming their belovedness. There are so many negative messages that it is challenging for most people not to define one’s identity by them.
Nouwen believes this has a negative impact on our spiritual lives. He writes, “Self-rejection is the greatest enemy of the spiritual life because it contradicts the sacred voice that calls us the ‘Beloved.’ Being Beloved expresses the core truth of our existence.”
If we are able to claim our identity as beloved of God, this leads us to become who God calls us to be. Just after his baptism, Jesus leaves the Jordan River and spends forty days in the wilderness. There he confronts several temptations to deny his nature and identity. When he emerges from the wilderness he has clarity about his identity, mission, and ministry.
The same is true for us. When we live secure in the knowledge we are beloved of God, we can discern who God has created us to be. We learn the particular call God has extended to us. Nouwen writes, “From the moment we claim the truth of being the Beloved, we are faced with the call to become who we are. Becoming the Beloved is the great spiritual journey we have to make. Augustine’s words: ‘My soul is restless until it rests in you, O God,’ capture well this journey.”
Jesus invites us to claim our high calling as the beloved of God. God loves us, created us, and knows us better then we know ourselves. God has a vocation and call for each one of us, using us to build the reign of God. This holy journey begins, through the power of the Holy Spirit, by claiming the truth into which God invites us, namely, that we are the beloved of God and in us God is pleased.
January 5, 2020
We continue our celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas, this Sunday being the Second Sunday after Christmas Day. The world around has concluded its celebration. But we continue to rejoice, giving thanks for God’s great love in coming among us in the Child of Bethlehem.
Sunday’s Gospel reminds us that Jesus was born into a world not unlike our own. Matthew’s account of the Flight into Egypt tells of the Holy Family becoming refugees (Matthew 2:13-15,19-23). As rulers often are, King Herod was insecure on his throne. His power required a delicate balancing act between Roman rulers, Jewish Temple officials, and the Jewish people. When the Wise Men come to Herod seeking the newborn King, Herod pretends he wants to go worship the child too. He asks these mysterious strangers from the East to bring him news of where the Child is born.
The Wise Men find the baby Jesus in the manger in Bethlehem. They are warned in a dream, however, not trust Herod, so they return to their country without bringing news to Herod. Once the King realizes the Wise Men have deceived him, he becomes enraged and has every boy under the age of two living in Bethlehem killed.
Before Herod’s barbarous murder of innocent children, Joseph is warned in a dream to take the Child and his mother and flee to Egypt avoiding Herod’s wrath. Thus Joseph, Mary, and Jesus become refugees, fleeing an insecure, violent ruler.
This Christmastide many in our world are refugees, fleeing violence and poverty. Many people fled their homelands and traveled to Europe seeking a new life. Too many died along the journey. Others have encountered nations that don’t welcome them or hostility and violence at the hands of local residents.
Episcopal Migration Ministries offers these sobering facts on their website: “Across the globe there are 68.5 million refugees, asylum seekers & internally displaced people all over the globe; 25.4 million refugees who have fled into another country, into conditions that are often not much better than the horrors they escaped; 3.5 million asylum-seekers.”
In our own nation there is great debate whether to welcome refugees, especially from Latin America, to our shores. Some political leaders are trying to close our nation’s borders to them. Others suggest we should not welcome Muslims for fear of terrorism.
The Biblical record is clear, however, that we are to welcome the stranger in our midst. Throughout Hebrew Scripture there is the call to welcome strangers as the people of Israel were once strangers in a foreign land.
In the 25th chapter of the Book of Deuteronomy, Moses commands the people, before they enter the Promised Land after 40 years wandering in the wilderness, to remember their past, how they were a people enslaved and without a homeland. God delivered them, bringing them to their own land. Thus must never forget what God has done for them.
In the New Testament Jesus goes so far as to say when a person welcomes a stranger, they welcome Christ himself. In Matthew 25:40 Jesus, in the parable of the sheep and the goats says, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
All people are God’s beloved children. The Incarnation shows in a profound way the depth of God’s love for humanity. God desires relationship with us so deeply as to put on human flesh. The Divine becomes human, so God might lift humanity to the divine life.
Rejoicing in God’s love for us, may we love one another as God loves us. May we always welcome the outcast, the stranger, the sojourner, and the refugee.
If you would like to help in a tangible, financial way, donations are welcome by Episcopal Migration Ministries http://www.episcopalmigrationministries.org/ On their site you can learn about this agency of the Episcopal Church and its efforts to assist people displaced by war, poverty, and violence around the globe.
December 29, 2019
This Sunday we hear the Prologue to the Gospel according to John (John 1:1-18). These beautiful words remind us of the magnitude of God’s initiative in the incarnation. John tells us, “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”
The Word that becomes flesh was present at the beginning, before time, before the creation of the world. John’s lofty words declare, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
The eternal, all powerful God who created all that is, in the incarnation stoops to put on human flesh. God comes among us as the most helpless and vulnerable: a baby. God loves humanity so deeply as to come to live as one of us. God does so in the person of Jesus to lead us into the light, into all truth, to lift us to the divine life of God. God comes to dwell with us in the Baby of Bethlehem in order to lift us to the divine life of love of the Trinity.
We are not worthy of the advent of God. We did not earn nor merit God’s love. The love of God is a gift, freely given to us. And God’s love incarnate changes everything. Through the eternal Word made human, Jesus who is fully God and fully human, we are invited to share in divinity. Jesus, through his death and resurrection, sets us free from all sin, evil, and even death, raising us to eternal life with God.
The only response we can make to God’s unfathomable love is to love God in return. We respond by opening our hearts that God might be born in us, dwelling in us, filling us with God’s love.
One of my favorite Christmas texts is by the poet Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) and is set to music in the hymnal at Hymn 84. She writes,
Love came down at Christmas,/ Love all lovely, love divine; / love was born at Christmas: / star and angels gave the sign.
Worship we the Godhead, / love incarnate, love divine; / worship we our Jesus, / but wherewith for sacred sign?
Love shall be our token; / love be yours and love be mine, / love to God and neighbor, / love for plea and gift and sign.
In this Christmastide may you know the abiding presence of God’s love, giving thanks for God coming among us in the Child born of Mary. May we strive always to love in return, loving God with all our heart, mind, and strength, and our neighbors as ourselves.
This comes with all my affection and best wishes for a joyous and blessed Christmastide for you and all you love.
December 22, 2019
Each year on the Forth Sunday of Advent the lessons shift away from the Second Coming of Jesus in glory as our judge to the first advent of Jesus in the Child of Bethlehem. Most years we read from Luke’s Gospel and hear from the perspective of Mary, mother of Jesus.
But in this liturgical year we read from Matthew’s Gospel and his focus is Joseph. Matthew tells the story of Jesus’ birth from Joseph’s perspective. Joseph is shown as a faithful and righteous servant of God. Beyond this section of Matthew, we know little of Joseph. The Gospel record is silent and Joseph disappears to history.
Sunday’s Gospel (Matthew 1:18–25) opens with the matter-of-fact statement, “Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.” In Matthew’s account there are no shepherds or heavenly host of angels as in Luke. There are no poetic and soaring words as in John’s Prologue. Rather, Matthew tells us Mary is engaged to Joseph and is with child. Being righteous, Joseph decides he will quietly divorce Mary, trying to shield her from public shame and ridicule.
In a dream an angel of the Lord comes to Joseph, telling him “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” Joseph does as the angel says, taking Mary to be his wife and naming the baby Jesus.
To be a “dreamer” is not always considered a positive attribute. But I wonder if dreams are at the heart of faithfully following God. While living only in our dreams can be a form of denial, dreams can also express hope for the seemingly impossible.
During this Advent we are called to expect God to act in our lives and in the world. We dream of a world where God’s justice reigns, where the poor and hungry are cared for, and the captive set free. It is easy for us to think small, to believe the world can’t change. Through our dreams our mind’s horizon is expanded. Our deepest longings are given voice.
Advent calls us to expect what seems impossible. We are to expect surprising and new things from God, such as God putting on human flesh in the baby Jesus. We are to dream that our deepest longings for love and justice in this world can be realized.
This Child born with the animals, far from the palace of King Herod, saves and redeems the world by his death and resurrection. To accept that death is defeated by One born a small helpless baby seems the utmost in useless dreaming. Yet we claim this as our central reality as followers of the crucified and risen One.
In these final days of Advent may we dare to dream of a world where love triumphs over hatred and violence. May we expect God to enter into our world, lifting up the lowly and poor. May we long for that Child born so long ago, yet coming to us anew. May we prepare a place in our hearts for him to be born this year.
Let us always follow our dreams, finding God present in our deepest hopes and longings. Like Joseph, may we faithfully answer the call of God given to us. Through our faithful work may God’s kingdom, a kingdom that makes the impossible real, be accomplished.
December 15, 2019
The scripture readings Sunday urge us to be a people who rejoice. Several times the words rejoice, joy, and gladness are used. The Third Sunday of Advent is sometimes known as Gaudete Sunday, from a Latin word meaning “rejoice.” When Advent was understood as a more penitential season, a short Lent before Christmas, this Sunday reminded the church that, while undertaking penitential acts, do not forgot the joy found in the Christian life.
The first lesson from the Prophet Isaiah (35:1-10) offers beautiful imagery of the wilderness and dry land being glad, rejoicing, and blossoming. The faithful of the Lord sing with everlasting joy and with gladness. All will be made whole and sound: the blind will see, the deaf hear, the lame will leap, the speechless will sing with joy, the leper healed, and the poor have good news preached to them.
Joy is a word used often in our culture. This is especially true during the holiday season. There is an emphasis on having a joyful celebration. For those weighed down by fear and grief, it is difficult to enter into this season marked by cheer.
We might think of joy as a feeling, a sentiment, as something we either have or do not have. When life is challenging, when difficult things happen, this feeling can be in short supply. It is hard to make merry when life seems a burden.
In our Gospel this week we again hear about John the Baptist (Matthew 11:2-11). Last week John was in the wilderness baptizing those who repented at the River Jordan. He proclaimed the kingdom of God is near, the Messiah is coming. Prepare! Get ready. John, the prophet, preached the coming of God and the arrival of God’s kingdom. That kingdom comes the promise that all will be set free from what enslaves and oppresses.
This week we learn things have not turned out as John might have hoped. He is in prison. His preaching against the oppressive powers of his age landed him in trouble with the authorities. Speaking truth to the powers of this world will cost John his life, as so often happens to prophets.
From his prison cell John sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” John may be wondering if he was mistaken in identifying Jesus as the Messiah, for the powers of the world seem in complete charge. Their tyranny has not been overthrown, as John’s imprisonment testifies.
Jesus answered, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”
It is for John, each of us, to decide if Jesus is the One sent to save the people. But before deciding, Jesus urges we look at the evidence. Jesus quotes Isaiah’s promise of a renewed creation, of a desert in full bloom, and a people healed and whole. A new order marked by joy and gladness is found in the life and ministry of Jesus.
We do not know if John was comforted by Jesus’ answer. But this week’s readings offer words of hope. The promise of Advent is not that life will always go well for us. We will not escape trial and tribulation, or suffering and sadness. Rather, the promise is when these difficulties happen, God is present with us, providing meaning and comfort to our troubled spirits.
The joy of this season, the call to rejoice, is not a feeling or a sentiment we try to find and worry if we do not have it. It is a deep hope dwelling within us that casts out fear and anxiety. It is the audacity of hope in the face of the trials of this age.
In this Advent we hold onto the vision of Isaiah. God comes among us in the person of Jesus. God enters human history, into our very lives. Jesus knows the joys and challenges of being human. Jesus leads us through this life to eternal joy, to that place where there is no pain or sorrow, but life eternal with the Trinity.
For the promise of this gift let us rejoice!
December 8, 2019
The holiday season is in full swing. The national Christmas tree in Washington was lit this week. Around the neighborhood houses are decorated with wreaths, greens, and lights. The shopping season is well underway. My inbox is full of shopping offers too good for me to pass up.
This secular season focuses on decorating, gift giving, and gathering with family and friends. This month can have a frenetic pace. Additionally, many feel pressure to create the perfect holiday atmosphere. There is pressure to catch the “holiday spirit” and be merry. In December I often hear people talk about the pressure of these expectations and relief when the holidays are over. It is easy to become lost in the pressures of the season.
In contrast, the season of Advent offers a time to focus on what is essential and has deeper meaning. We have the gift of this season of preparation. It is a time to watch for what God is doing, living by the hope that God enters into our lives and the world. This is a season of honesty and stripping away.
One of the central figures of Advent is John the Baptist. John is a singular character. Living in the wilderness he wears camel’s hair and eats locusts and wild honey. His message is repentance. In Sunday’s Gospel (Matthew 3:1-12) he proclaims, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” He preaches the longed-for Messiah is coming. John calls the people to prepare for his arrival by stripping away the non-essentials and setting their lives in order.
John invites the people to metanoia, a Greek word richer in meaning than the English “repentance.” Metanoia is turning in a new direction, or putting on a new mindset. It is a call to turn to God, turning away from things that distract us from following Jesus. It is letting go of whatever turns us from God.
John warns the people to be ready, because the Messiah is coming. He will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire, gathering the wheat and burning the chaff in unquenchable fire. John’s preaching is very different from what we hear in the world around us. It is not a call to activities and buying things, but to embrace God’s priorities. John invites us to live by what really matters.
Part of John’s message is judgment. The first weeks of Advent focus on Jesus coming at the end of the age to judge the living and the dead. We are to watch, wait, and be prepared for we do not know when Jesus will come again.
Hearing about judgment can be difficult. Many of us left religious traditions that used the threat of judgement in harmful ways. In my own childhood I was taught sin is a violation of God’s rules. God kept track of my offenses. My sins, I was told, turned my soul black. If it became all black, I was going to hell. As a gay child, I understood my identity was being judged and I, as a person, was found sinful.
The judgment John proclaims could not be more different. Jesus comes not to condemn the world, but to love the world. His judgment is with eyes of love and the desire to draw all people into loving relationship with God. Sin is not violating a list of divine rules that must be followed. Rather, sin is any action or thought that prevents our relationship with God, the creation, others, and ourselves. Sin makes us gods, replacing God’s place in our lives. Sin is alienation and estrangement. It is whatever holds us back from becoming the full creatures God intends. It is living by apathy and complacency instead of creativity and abundance. It is the way of death, not life.
Jesus comes with the fire of the Holy Spirit to burn away what keeps us from living the rich and abundant life of God. The call of John the Baptist to reorient our lives away from the trappings of our world, turning instead to the meaningful life God desires for us. It is the call to journey to the barren wilderness where we know clearly our reliance upon God. In the bareness we are invited to turn with our whole being toward his most gracious rule. In that desolate landscape we encounter the One who gathers us with abundant love and compassion.
December 1, 2019
Sunday, December 1 we begin a new liturgical year with the First Sunday of Advent. As the natural world moves towards winter, with daylight growing shorter and temperatures colder, we light candles on the Advent wreath and watch and wait. In the gathering darkness, we trust God’s promise that Jesus, the Light of the world, is coming and no earthly power can extinguish his light.
Advent, from a Latin word meaning “coming,” has the themes of joyful expectation, watching, and preparing. The first week we are called to be ready for the coming of Jesus at the end of the age, when history will be fulfilled and all creation redeemed. We do not know when this will happen, so we are reminded to be expectant.
When Jesus returns all powers of this world will come to an end. There is comfort in this promise, when so much in our world seems so wrong. Jesus promises the love of God will defeat the injustices of the present time. God’s kingdom will come and love will triumph over hatred and evil. Even death will have no power. In this we place our hope. In this hope we watch and wait.
The second and third weeks of Advent offer John the Baptist as the central figure. John comes preparing the way for our Savior, calling the people to repent. This call of John is about conversion, in Greek metanoia, literally turning to a new direction or mindset. This new life John proclaims is about living the kingdom of God, caring for those in need, putting right our relationship with God and our neighbor.
On the last Sunday of Advent we turn our attention to the first advent of Jesus at Christmas. This liturgical year (Year A in the three year cycle) we read from the Gospel according to Matthew. Matthew’s focus is on Joseph. Joseph is troubled by Mary’s pregnancy because they are not yet married. Joseph intends to quietly divorce Mary. Being attentive to God, Joseph listens to God’s word as it comes in his dreams. This message changes Joseph’s mind and accepts his vocation as husband to Mary and earthly father to Jesus.
These weeks of Advent are a time of preparation for the festival of Christmas. Just as we have Lent to prepare for Easter, so we have these four weeks. Unlike Lent, however, it can be difficult keeping Advent as a distinct season. In the world around us Christmas is in full swing. Advent can be lost in the noise of many demands on our time.
During the season there several special events that offer a time of deliberate preparation. On Sunday, December 8 is the annual Festival of Lesson and Carols at 5 pm. This service includes scripture readings for Advent with beloved Advent hymns and choir anthems. It can help us focus on preparing as well as the hope we hold on to
The Advent Retreat Day is on Saturday, December 14. It begins with Morning Prayer at 10:00 am in the church. The day includes time for prayer, reflection, and conversation, and ends with the Eucharist. With all the demands of the season, this day can help prepare our hearts, giving us some time of peaceful quiet.
Other resources for the season include prayers for lighting the Advent Wreath before dinner. This devotion can be shared by the entire family and help to focus us on the season. Copies of the devotion are available at the entrance to the church. There is also an Advent calendar available there with scripture verses and activities for Advent.
May we find times of silence in the midst of the busyness around us. May this season be a rich time of preparation for us, leading to a blessed and joyous Christmastide. May intentionally preparing now open our hearts to receive the gift of the Christ Child who desires to be born in us at Christmas. May we be ready to receive this most precious and life changing gift.
November 24, 2019
This is the Last Sunday after Pentecost, the final Sunday of the liturgical year. It is common in the Episcopal Church these days to call this day “Christ the King.” This title is from the Lutheran and Roman Catholic calendars, though the Book of Common Prayer does not use it.
It is easy to see why we might import this practice. The Collect of the Day names Jesus “the King of kings and Lord of lords.” In the first lesson (Jeremiah 23:1-6) the prophet writes, “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.” As followers of Jesus we interpret this passage as an ancient prophecy of Jesus who, as a descendant of David, reigns as the just King for eternity.
There is, however, an inherent danger in casting Jesus as King. It is tempting to apply the imagery and politics of earthly monarchs to our Lord and Savior. Yet Jesus is not at all like earthly rulers. Jesus does not amass vast wealth on the backs of the poor who cry out for food. He does not undertake military campaigns to conquer lands and gain influence. He does not gather accolades and honorifics to himself.
Ours is a King unlike any other. The reign of Jesus is one of self-emptying. Jesus lives by humble loving service, seeking not honor for himself, but instead serving the least. Jesus is the King who invites his friends to a last meal and kneels on the floor washing their feet—even of the one who will betray him.
It is fitting our Gospel reading Sunday (Luke 23:33-43) is Luke’s account of Jesus hanging on the cross. This is his throne. Jesus reigns from the tree. From this throne Jesus prays, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” While dying an agonizing death, he forgives those who kill him. He silently endures the mocking of the soldiers watching him die.
In this account we find the core of who we worship as our King. Ours is not a king who amasses wealth, wages war, or seeks his own glory. Rather, our King lives by humble loving service, giving away everything, even his very life. He is raised to resurrection life, destroying the very powers the rulers of this world live by.
For we are citizens of God’s reign. We worship and obey the King who reigns from the cross. In Jesus we have a King who knows the challenge of suffering and pain, who is present to us in our travails. In him we can trust that death is the gateway to eternal life.
We are called to live like him. Our call is to reject wealth and possessions, having only what we need to live. We are to give from our abundance that others may have what they need. We are called to forgive, showing mercy and compassion to those who hurt us, loving our enemies as God loves us. We are to live by peace, not raising the sword against another, but being agents of peace and reconciliation. And we are called to loving service, getting on our knees to wash others’ feet.
We worship the One who is indeed King of kings and Lord of lords. Baptized into his body, taking to ourselves his very identity, we are his presence in the world. May we witness to his love through our words and deeds. Rejecting the corrupt powers of this world, may we be conformed to his most gracious rule.
Crown him the Son of God before the worlds began, and ye, who tread where he hath trod, crown him the Son of man; who every grief hath known that wrings the human breast, and takes and bears them for his own, that all in him may rest.
Crown him the Lord of life, who triumphed o’er the grave, and rose victorious in the strife for those he came to save; his glories now we sing who died, and rose on high, who died, eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die. Words: Matthew Bridges (1800-1894), Hymn 494, Hymnal 1982
November 17, 2019
Q. What is the ministry of a bishop?
A. The ministry of a bishop is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as apostle, chief priest, and pastor of a diocese; to guard the faith, unity, and discipline of the whole Church; to proclaim the Word of God; to act in Christ’s name for the reconciliation of the world and the building up of the Church; and to ordain others to continue Christ’s ministry.
Book of Common Prayer p. 855
Sunday we welcome the Rt. Rev. W. Nicholas Knisely, XIII Bishop of Rhode Island, to the Redeemer for his visitation. The visit of our bishop is a cause for celebration. We welcome him as he celebrates and preaches at both liturgies. You are invited to a Bishop’s Forum at 9 am when the Bishop will discuss the Episcopal Church, the Anglican Communion, and the upcoming Lambeth Conference of bishops. At the 10 am Eucharist he will Confirm Hailan Whelan. There is a reception in the Assembly Room following this liturgy.
The visitation of the bishop is an important occasion in our life as a parish and connecting us to the ministry of the wider church. An Outline of the Faith, also called the Catechism, provides an explanation of our faith in question and answer format. It teaches that the ministry of a bishop is “to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as apostle, chief priest, and pastor of a diocese.”
While we so often are focused at the parish level, the reality is the basic unit of the Episcopal Church is the diocese. The bishop is our chief priest and pastor. Each priest serves a parish or mission as the bishop’s representative. With more than 50 churches, he can’t be in every parish each week. When the bishop visits we see in a tangible way, through his presence, office, and ministry our connection to the diocese and to all Episcopalians in the state of Rhode Island.
The Catechism also teaches the bishop’s ministry is “to guard the faith, unity, and discipline of the whole church.” A bishop is not just head of a diocese, but also has a role in the wider church and is a symbol of the unity of the church. In The Episcopal Church bishops take their place in the House of Bishops, one of the bodies that makes up General Convention (the other is the House of Deputies). When General Convention is not meeting, the House of Bishops continues to meet, praying and working together. Through our bishop we have a connection and relationship with other Episcopalians.
Bishops also are connected through the world-wide Anglican Communion. Approximately every ten years the Archbishop of Canterbury gathers bishops from around the world for a time of prayer, study, and conversation at Lambeth, England. The next gathering is in 2020. Apart from the Lambeth Conference, bishops from the Anglican Communion work together in various ways.
The visit of Bishop Knisely connects us with the church in this state and around the world. Bishops ordained in the Episcopal Church stand in an unbroken line stretching back to the first apostles. Each bishop is ordained by a bishop in this succession. In our bishop we are connected with the church across time, from the earliest followers of Jesus to the present and the future.
This Sunday let us welcome with joy Bishop Knisely, giving thanks for his presence and ministry. In him may we glimpse our connection to Christians around the world and from every age. Together with him may we faithfully make known the reconciling love of God, proclaiming the good news of Jesus, and building up the Church.
November 10, 2019
Asking questions can be useful. It is one of the best ways to get to know someone. In listening to someone talk about their life and experiences, we show ourselves curious and interested. We can learn who they are. Broad, open ended questions can help a person share the story of their life.
Another way questions are used is in court or Congressional hearings. In these settings questions are posed to clarify someone’s actions or knowledge. Questions can be posed in such way to push the one testifying into a corner, trapping them in an inconsistency.
In our Gospel this week (Luke 20:27-38) the Sadducees use a question in this way. Not believing in the resurrection of the dead, and using scripture to justify their beliefs, they create an outlandish scenario to entrap Jesus. They pose a hypothetical story. A woman’s husband dies and they have no children. According to the law the widow’s brother would marry her. In their story, this man also dies. This happens with seven brothers. The Sadducees ask Jesus whose husband she will be in the resurrection.
Not believing in the resurrection, the Sadducees are trying to trap Jesus. But as often happens, Jesus does not accept their challenge. Instead, he tells them they do not understand what happens after death. Resurrection life is not like earthly life. The ways and rules on earth do not apply in heaven. People are not given and taken in marriage.
Jesus catches the Sadducees by surprise. He offers them mysteries they have never considered. They asked their question to trap Jesus in a falsehood. Instead, Jesus observes that they limit God with their thinking. Their ideas are not expansive enough to accurately reflect the reality of resurrection life.
Jesus teaches that God does not follow our ways and customs. In the age to come life is changed. In resurrection the dead become new creations. Jesus says, “They are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection.” In resurrection a new life is found. While it is the continuation of this life, it is different. In resurrection all are changed, raised to a new life, a new reality.
This is not to say the love we share now with others will end. It will not. But we should not assume what we know on earth will be replicated in the next life. We do not know what awaits us after death. But Jesus offers the promise that in him we will know life abundant and eternal with God and those who have gone before us.
Jesus concludes his exchange with the Sadducees by saying God is God of the living, not the dead. God calls us to life, not death. The power of the resurrection not only changes us after we die, it is power in this life too. Resurrection promises the death wielding ways of this world will not triumph over the children of God.
Resurrection life is the way God makes all new, bringing death from life. It is the power that allows us to face the evil of this world and boldly proclaim Jesus crucified and resurrected. It is the hope within us that all that is unjust in this world will be righted by God’s love. Resurrection life gives us the strength to let go of fear that holds us back. It calls us to venture from the safety of nostalgia into the unknown future, trusting the power of God to protect and guide us.
Resurrection brings us out of isolation and shame, reconciling us with others and God. Through resurrection we are brought into community. We are raised from sin to forgiveness, from death to new life.
God is God of the living. God calls us to life in the midst of death. What are the ways God is calling us to expand our thinking? How is the Holy Spirit moving us to broaden our understanding of God? What places of death, stagnation, and complacency is God calling us to leave behind? What is the new life God desires for us today?
November 3, 2019
As I walked on Hope Street the past several days, especially after dark, I was struck by the number and complexity of Hallowe’en decorations I saw. Some houses sport elaborate displays of cobwebs, spiders, ghouls, and orange lights. These decorations are far more than the carved pumpkins of my youth.
While anecdotal, it seems to me Hallowe’en has grown in popularity over recent years. The observance is not just for children as more adults celebrate. My Facebook feed offers numerous Hallowe’en treat recipes, decoration and costume ideas, and announcements of parties.
Some Christians are uncomfortable with Hallowe’en and its emphasis on ghouls, goblins, and zombies. Some worry demonic influences are at work in the celebration of this day. Historically, however, Hallowe’en is linked with the feast of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day that follow it. These three days are sometimes called the fall Triduum (Latin for “three days”) also called Allhallowtide.
Hallowe’en is a contraction of All Hallows’ Eve. The hallowed are the saints remembered on November 1, All Saints’ Day. It was believed those who had recently died wandered the earth until All Saints’ Day. On All Hallows’ Eve it was the final chance for them to wreak vengeance on those still living. The recently dead, it was believed, wore costumes disguising their identity.
At the heart of Allhallowtide is the belief that over these days the divide between the living and the dead is thin. Even across the veil of death the living and the dead remain connected.
All Saints’ Day, November 1, is the day we remember the hallowed, the saints who faithfully served God through lives of Christian service. They are exemplars of the faith and an inspiration to us as followers of Jesus in this life.
On November 2 we pray for those we love who have died. While their names are not recorded on the calendar of the church, they are known to us. In the All Souls’ liturgy we pray for our beloved dead in confidence that though we are separated by death, the love we share does not end. We support those who have died with our prayers as they move from strength to strength into the fullness of God’s presence. And we trust they pray for us as we run this earthly race.
On All Souls’ Day Eve, Friday, November 1, we celebrate a Requiem Eucharist at 7 pm. Prayers are offered for those from the parish who have died in the past year. When you attend the Requiem Eucharist you are invited to bring pictures of your departed loved ones. They will be placed near the Font where the final prayers of the Eucharist are offered.
Our celebration of Allhallowtide culminates in a Festival Eucharist on Sunday, November 3 at 10 am. On All Saints’ Sunday we will renew our Baptismal Vows, celebrating that we share in the inheritance of the saints, the promise of life eternal with God.
Our Christian hope asserts death is not the end. The living and the dead are bound together in the communion of the saints. There is nothing that can separate us from the love of God made known in Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit. For this promise we give thanks to God.
October 27, 2019
A great truth for us as Christians is the unfailing love God has for us. We are created to be in relationship with God, one another, and all of creation. God loves us simply because we are, not because we merit God’s love. Because God loves us, we are always shown compassion, mercy, and forgiveness. When we sin, if we turn from our sin, repent, and put things right, God forgiveness us. This is true, no matter how many times we sin and repent.
Living in an age that so highly values the hard work and grit of the individual, we sometimes forget our need for God. We may fall into the delusion all we have and everything we have done is accomplished by ourselves alone. By focusing on ourselves, we forget God.
Our scripture readings this Sunday remind us we can do or accomplish little without God. In the Epistle, the author of the Second Letter of Paul to Timothy (2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18) says, “…the Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it.” Because God stood by Paul, protecting him, he was able to do the work God entrusted to him. Through God’s invitation and guidance, Paul proclaimed the good news of Jesus to the Gentiles. All Paul did was accomplished through God.
In the Gospel (Luke 18:9-14) Jesus tells a parable warning about the danger of trusting alone in one’s own merit and effort. It is a story of two men who go the temple pray. They pray very different prayers.
The first is a Pharisee. Pharisees were religious leaders of the people who taught others how to live lives of holiness. In his prayer to God, this Pharisee forgets all humility and gratitude to God, and indulges in the sin of arrogance and pride. He thanks God he is better than other people, including the tax collector also praying in the temple. He tells God how holy he is because he tithes and fasts twice a week. He is certain his acts of piety make him righteous in God’s eyes.
While the Pharisee prays, so does the tax collector. Unlike Pharisees, tax collectors were not considered model citizens. They collaborated with the Roman occupiers, collecting Roman taxes. They had no salary, making a profit by gouging the poor. They were part of a system that preyed upon the poor and made tax collectors rich. They were considered unscrupulous and dishonest.
The tax collector has no delusions about his sin. He stands far off, unable to look up to heaven and beats his breast, saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” This man is humiliated before God and others. He knows his sins, acknowledging his sinfulness and need for God’s mercy.
Both these men are pious, going to the temple to pray. But only one comes honestly before God, admitting his sin. Reflecting Luke’s theme of reversal, the man who is most honest is the one least respected by society.
This parable offers a reminder that God loves us and shows us mercy not through our efforts. God does not love us as a reward for anything we have done, even good things, but because God is love and cannot help but love us and look on us with compassion.
The example of the Pharisee reminds us of the danger of thinking ourselves better or more holy than others. The tax collector calls us to follow him in being honest before God, acknowledging we have fallen short of the glory of God. We are assured that in confession and repentance we are lovingly forgiven by God and in heaven there is rejoicing for the one who has returned to God.
October 20, 2019
A theme woven through all the lessons this Sunday is persistence. We hear how Jacob wrestles with a man all night (Genesis 32:22-31). This match is a draw until Jacob’s opponent hits his hip socket out of joint, leaving him with a limp for the rest of his life. At daybreak his opponent tells Jacob to let him go, but Jacob won’t until the man blesses him. The man blesses Jacob, and says, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Jacob realizes he wrestled all night with God. He is blessed by God and given a new name, a sign of a new relationship with God. Through his persistence, Jacob encounters God and is blessed.
The Epistle this week is a passage from Paul’s Second Letter to Timothy (2 Timothy 3:14-4:5). It opens, “In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I solemnly urge you: proclaim the message; be persistent whether the time is favorable or unfavorable.” The author warns the time is coming when people will have “itching ears,” finding teachers to suit their own views and needs. Followers of Jesus should remain persistent in the faith.
In the Gospel (Luke 18:1-8), Jesus tells his disciples “a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.” It is the story of an unjust judge who neither loves God nor respects other people. This is the type of judge we never want to stand before.
In the same city as the judge, there is a widow seeking justice against an opponent. At first the judge refuses, but he realizes this widow will keep coming until he grants her justice. To prevent her bothering him, wearing him out, he grants her request. He does this not for justice, but to spare himself. He knows she will be persistent until justice is served.
Jesus concludes the parable saying, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them.” If the unjust judge hears the widow and does what she asks, how much more will God listen to prayer and act?
Jesus tells this parable so his followers remain persistent in praying. God does not need pestering like the unjust judge. God does not consider our prayer a bother. God listens to our prayers because God loves us and desires justice for all God’s people. God stands ready to hear our prayers more than we desire to pray.
The widow can be an inspiration to us in her devotion. She knows what she needs and asks for it. She knows who can do what she needs done. She goes to the judge and asks for what she needs. She does not retreat or give up when her request is not granted.
Like her, Jesus calls us to be persistent in our prayer, knowing God always hears us. We are invited to ask God for those things that are best for us, others, and the world. We are not to lose heart if we do not immediately receive an answer or understand how God is answering our prayer. We can trust God will answer, though it may not be when and how we expect.
Jesus invites us to not grow complacent or give up on prayer. We are to lift all the injustices of this world to God in prayer. So many in our world are in deep need. So many live with great injustice. In addition to using the political process, signing petitions, and attending marches and rallies, we are also called to pray. We should never underestimate the power of prayer nor doubt God will answer our heartfelt prayers.
When we offer prayers for ourselves and others, we are lifted outside ourselves. In prayer our vision is expanded. We can see as God does, seeing ourselves and others as God’s beloved children. When we lift the injustices of the world to God in prayer, we enter into a holy and sacred space. In this place we are changed, formed into the people of love and compassion God calls us to be.
May we never lose heart, but persist always, being a people of regular and heartfelt prayer. Let us lift the needs and concerns of the world to God, trusting God will listen and respond.
October 13, 2019
As followers of Jesus, we are called to be people who give thanks. This call is broader than experiencing moments when we know and express gratitude. Rather, Jesus invites us to live lives of gratitude. As people who are loved by God, more than we can know or imagine, we have much to be thankful for. From the goodness of creation God provides all we need to live. In response we are called to be faithful stewards of creation. Our response of gratitude is to return to God a portion of what we have been given (the Biblical norm is the 10% tithe) as a thank offering.
It is no surprise that our central act of worship is the Eucharist. Its very name is a Greek word meaning “thanksgiving.” At the center of every Eucharist is thanksgiving to God for God’s profound love and care of us. In the liturgy we give thanks for all God creates; for God’s love, mercy, and compassion; for God coming among us in the person of Jesus; for the love Jesus has for us; for his death, resurrection, and ascension by which we are lifted to the divine life. In response to the broad loving initiative of God, we are invited to respond with our love and gratitude.
At the beginning of each Eucharistic Prayer, the celebrant says, “It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth” [BCP p. 361]. These words invite us to live giving thanks to God — not just in this moment of worshipping God, but always, everywhere, at all times, and in all places. Our very lives should be lived as an act of thanksgiving.
Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 17:11-19) offers the account of ten lepers. Jesus, traveling towards Jerusalem, hears them call out from a distance, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” They don’t want to get too close to Jesus because of the disease afflicting them. Jesus has mercy on them, healing them. He tells them to go show themselves to the priests.
Upon noticing they are healed, one of the ten runs back, praises God, and prostrates himself at Jesus’ feet. On seeing his gratitude, Jesus tells the healed man, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”
Responding to God’s action in being healed, the man is unable to hold back his joy. Praising God, he returns to Jesus, falling at his feet. In telling us the man “turned back” after being healed, Luke is telling us something important happened in this man’s life.
In scripture, turning back is not only a description of direction of travel. It has deep theological meaning. To turn back is to embrace a new direction in one’s life. It can mark a time of conversion, of reorienting one’s life to God.
Like the mean healed of leprosy, we are called to be attentive to God’s action in our lives and the world around us. In response to God, we are invited to turn towards God. Like the man healed, we are to let our love and gratitude to God overflow until we cannot remain silent, but praise and worship God.
In living lives of thanksgiving, our joy will not be contained. Through our witness, others will see the power of God’s healing and restoration to wholeness. Living this way we will be people of love, compassion, and mercy in a world full of hurt, anxiety, and division.
October 6, 2019
Sunday’s Gospel (Luke 17:5-10) includes the familiar image of the mustard seed. This smallest of seeds grows into a shrub large enough for birds to nest in. In the Gospels according to Luke and Matthew (17:21) Jesus tells the apostles if they had faith the size of a mustard seed, they would be able to accomplish great things.
When the apostles ask Jesus to increase their faith, he replies, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” We can hear Jesus’ words as a criticism of us. We can feel inadequate. If faith that small can do great things, we might worry our faith is woefully insufficient
This can be difficult to hear, given we often talk in the church about being created in the image and likeness of God and called to live into the fullness of the person we are created to be. We talk of being made worthy through the death and resurrection of Jesus. Now we hear Jesus say something that sounds critical of our faith. This can be especially challenging for those at the margins who have been excluded and judged negatively by the church.
What if Jesus does not intend to judge the apostles, or us, for a lack of faith? Perhaps Jesus is offering kind words of encouragement. The passage we hear on Sunday begins at verse 5. The preceding verses of Chapter 17 offer a hard saying on forgiveness. Jesus tells his followers they must forgive always, no matter how many times. If one sins and repents, we must forgive them, Jesus says, even if this happens “seven times a day.”
Hearing these challenging words is what prompts the disciples to ask for their faith to be increased. They may be thinking this is too hard to do without more faith. How can one possibly forgive so readily and often? In response Jesus offers them kind words. They need only faith the size of a mustard seed, the smallest of seeds. That is sufficient for what he asks.
This Gospel reading offers commentary on living the Christian life. Followers of Jesus are to forgive those who repent, as many times as needed. This is difficult to do and likely goes against what we might think or feel. It can only be done by faith and trust in God. It is only possible with God’s abundant grace.
God gives us the faith sufficient to follow Jesus. Rather than a commodity that can be increased or saved up, faith is a gift from God. It is a call to a way of life. Even a little faith, small like the mustard seed, is enough to live as Jesus calls. Jesus is telling his apostles, and us, to relax and trust God. Let go of the fear we don’t have enough. God calls and God provides what we need to follow.
Our Collect of the Day this week echoes this important theme. In it we pray, “Almighty and everlasting God, you are always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve: Pour upon us the abundance of your mercy, forgiving us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask, except through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Savior; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”
God always stands ready to bestow on us more than we desire or even deserve. God forgives us and bestows abundant life on us. God sets us free from our fears and gives us more than are worthy to receive. God does more than we can ever ask of even imagine.
Through Jesus we are made worthy and set free from fear and scarcity to serve our God of abundance. Let us ask God what great things we might accomplish in Jesus’ Name with the faith we have? What might God do in and through us by the power of God’s love, compassion, and grace?
September 29, 2019
Sunday’s Gospel is one of the most vivid parables Jesus tells (Luke 16:19-31). It is the story of two worlds that are very different, separated by a strong boundary. It is the story of two men. A rich man dressed in purple and linen, who eats scrumptious meals, and is rich enough to have a wall and gate around his house. This man lacks no comfort.
The second man is named Lazarus. He is so poor he sits at the gate of the rich man’s home, dreaming of the crumbs from his well-supplied table. Not having good nutrition, unsurprisingly the man has health issues, including sores that dogs lick.
The rich man never sees Lazarus. He walks past him without considering his great need. He shows him no compassion. In his world of satiation and comfort, he is oblivious to the suffering of others around him. The parable does not show him to be wicked. He does not treat Lazarus poorly, driving him from the man’s gate. Nor does the rich man organize his neighbors to drive the poor and homeless from their neighborhood. Rather, he simply seems oblivious and complacent, able to walk by Lazarus with unseeing indifference.
The two men die. Lazarus is buried and goes to Hades, where the dead are tormented (see 2 Esdras 7:36). He is in agony in the flames of Hades, longing for cool water. In contrast, Lazarus dies and is not buried. He is carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. There he no longer is hungry, but is comforted. He is seen and valued. He is safe in Abraham’s arms.
The rich man, in his torment, calls out to Abraham to send Lazarus to give him cool water. Even after death and consignment to the fires of Hades, the man does not see Lazarus. He speaks of Lazarus in the third person, looking at him as someone to serve the rich man.
Abraham does not grant the rich man’s request. He tells him a great chasm has been placed between the two worlds and no one may cross. The rich man then asks Abraham to send Lazarus to his living brothers, warning them what they will face if they do not live differently. Abraham refuses, saying they have Moses and the prophets to listen to. That should be sufficient for them. Besides, even if someone rose from the dead the brothers would not believe.
This parable contains a rich and dramatic story that is easy to understand, yet is potentially frightening to us who are middle class. While not rich by the standards of our nation, we certainly are richer than most of the world. Most of us live in a comfortable home and enough food of good quality and variety to eat. The parable calls us who have enough to shake off our blindness and indifference. It is a reminder to not let our comfortable life dull our awareness of the suffering around us.
Who are the people we see daily who suffer lack of food and have great needs? Certainly as I drive through the neighborhood, especially along North Main Street, I regularly see people asking for money at the stop lights. Often there is someone on each corner. Sometimes I willingly stop and offer some cash. But I am not proud of the times I hope the light will remain green so I can drive by those at the corner, pretending to not see them. When I do so, am I any different from the unseeing rich man ignoring Lazarus at his gate?
God has given us all we need to live the abundant life of loving service to which we are called. Like the rich man, we have Moses and the call of the prophets. We have John the Baptist calling us to repent and share one of our two coats with those without a coat (Luke 3:10-11).
And we have Jesus, God come among us to lift us to the divine life. Jesus taught and ministered to those in need, loving all to the end. He was crucified, buried, and raised on the third day. He gives us the grace to die to a life focused on ourselves and rise to the new life of loving service. Jesus comes to move us from the blindness of our comfort and complacency to serving all in his Name. For when we care for a person who is suffering and in need we serve Jesus (Matthew 25:34).
September 15, 2019
In the fourth century there was great interest in Holy Land sites associated with life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus. When the Romans destroyed Jerusalem in 70 CE, Golgotha, the hill outside the city walls where Jesus was crucified, was covered in tons of soil.
Helena, mother of the Roman Emperor Constantine, oversaw excavation at the site tradition held was where Jesus was crucified and buried. A great church, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, was built and became an immediate site of pilgrimage. On September 14, 335 the Church of the Holy Sepulcher was dedicated. That day became the feast of Holy Cross Day.
In 2016 work was completed on a restoration of the structure, called the Edicule, built over the traditional site of the tomb of Jesus. The last restoration was in 1810 after a fire endangered the structure. In the 1940s metal bands were attached to the exterior to hold the walls upright. During the recent work, layers of marble slabs from the Middle Ages and the fourth century were removed. Below them was rock from the first century that may be the surface the body of Jesus rested upon.
As a church dedicated to Jesus our Redeemer, we celebrate Holy Cross Day as our Feast of Title. This is the equivalent of a parish dedicated to a saint celebrating their patronal festival. Our celebration is affectionately known as “Redeemer Day.” It is a time for us to celebrate the many blessings God has generously bestowed on this parish. We give thanks for the generations who have gone before us. We give thanks we have been called to this community. And we look with anticipation to the important work and ministry God is calling us to undertake in the future.
As followers of Jesus our Redeemer, the cross is central for us. The Collect for Holy Cross Day prays, “Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself: Mercifully grant that we, who glory in the mystery of our redemption, may have grace to take up our cross and follow him.”
To follow Jesus is to take up our cross. This journey is costly. It requires us to relinquish our will to God’s. It calls us to offer ourselves in loving service, caring especially for the least and marginalized. In so living, Jesus promises to draw us to himself, lifting us with him through the victory of the cross. Through the cross we are lifted from this world to the divine life of the Trinity. This victory won for us sets us free from the dominion of sin and death, bringing us to an abundant life we cannot even imagine.
The life to which we are called is nothing short of walking in the light of Christ. John’s Gospel tells us Jesus is the eternal word come into the world, the Light that, “shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:5). This light, stronger than the powers of evil and death, transforms our lives and our world. By this light we see as God sees, we gaze upon the whole creation bathed in God’s love.
As the Baptized people of God, we promise always to walk in this light. The path is expressed in our Baptismal Covenant. We promise to be faithful in the teaching of the apostles and worship of God; to persevere in resisting evil, repenting when we sin; proclaiming by word and example the Good News of God in Christ; seeking and serving Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves; and striving for justice and peace among all people (BCP pp. 304-5).
The life to which we are called we share with Jesus who was lifted high on the cross. Not counting the cost, he gave his life in love, drawing all to him. He calls us to follow, walking this way of sacrificial love, losing our life to find it. As a parish dedicated to Jesus our Redeemer, may we always walk by the light of his love.
September 8, 2019
Typically on Sunday the Epistle appointed for the day is a passage from a New Testament letter, often written by Paul to a church community. It only happens on one Sunday in our three year lectionary we read an entire letter of Paul (minus the final two verses).
This happens Sunday when we read Letter of Paul to Philemon. It is not clear when Paul wrote the letter, though he says he writes from prison. Most scholars think it was not written during his final imprisonment in Rome (60-62) but an earlier time, perhaps in the mid-50s.
The letter is the most personal written by Paul, addressed to an individual, Philemon. From the letter, we know Philemon was the leader, along with his wife Apphia, of a church in Colossae that met in his home. In the first decades of the church, the worshipping community gathered in homes large enough to accommodate them. Public buildings as we know today come about in the 4th century.
In his letter Paul expresses affection and gratitude for Philemon and his ministry. We learn that Philemon became a Christian through Paul’s ministry. Paul highlights the relationship the two men have as co-workers, partners in the Gospel, and brothers in Christ.
Paul writes this letter to ask Philemon a huge favor, something Philemon would likely find difficult. While the exact details are unknown, Paul writes about Onesimus who was enslaved by Philemon. Onesimus apparently ran away from Philemon and is now with Paul in prison. Onesimus may have stolen something from Philemon. While with Paul, Onesimus has become a Christian through Paul’s ministry. Even while imprisoned Paul ministers in Jesus’ name and peoples’ lives are changed.
Paul is sending Onesimus back to Philemon and asks he be received not as a slave but a brother, an equal. Paul wants Philemon to free Onesimus. Paul offers to make restitution for anything owed Philemon.
Paul does this because now that Onesimus has been baptized, he is an equal in Christ. Through baptism the divisions of this world are torn down. As Paul writes to the Galatians, “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ” (3: 27-8).
Through baptism all are adopted as sons and daughters of God and put on the identity of Jesus. All are one in Christ. All the boundaries of inequity and injustice are torn down. In Christ no one should exercise power over another.
What Paul asks of Philemon is challenging. In the first century slavery was legal in the Roman Empire. Slaves were to be punished if they ran away, even being put to death. Philemon was expected by his culture to punish Onesimus. If he freed Onesimus, this would bring shame on Philemon in the eyes of others. Additionally, there would be shame in the financial loss if Onesimus is freed. What Paul asks challenges Philemon socially and economically.
Paul does not make this request lightly. Throughout his letters, he calls the followers of Jesus to costly discipleship. Following Jesus is not a casual affair. There is a cost. Paul knows this as well as any disciple. He gave his life over to Jesus, experiencing ridicule, flogging, and imprisonment. At Rome he is killed for his faith.
Paul’s Letter to Philemon reminds us following Jesus requires a real commitment. Discipleship is challenging and has a cost. We are called to give up the ways of this world and put on Christ, living by sacrificial love.
Through baptism we become a new creation in Christ, becoming the household of God. In this community we are to exercise great love for one another, tearing down the unjust ways of the world. Rather than exercising power over one another, we are to honor and love as Jesus does.
Through the power of the Holy Spirit may we live as the community God calls us to be. Putting on Christ, may we be the presence of Christ to one another and the world. Through our witness may God’s love transform the face of the earth.
September 1, 2019
Often when a wedding is planned much attention is focused on the meal. A venue must be found, a menu chosen, the cake selected, flowers and decorations planned. One of the most challenging tasks can be the seating plan. How many guests fit in the hall? Who sits at which table? Attention is paid to the relationships guests have to the couple and others attending. People are typically grouped with others they know. Usually there is little about the seating left to chance.
In Jesus’ day wedding feasts were also carefully structured. Attention was paid to the status of each guest. Those with wealth, power, and prestige were given the best seats. The rest sat in relation to those of highest status. If a guest of high status arrived late, a guest of lesser status would be asked to surrender their seat and move to a place of lower status.
The Gospel this Sunday (Luke 14:1, 7-14) has Jesus attending a meal on the Sabbath in the home of a Pharisee. Luke tells us all attending are watching Jesus. The Pharisees, as we have heard the past weeks, watch to see when Jesus does something they find questionable or wrong. In particular, they are critical of Jesus healing on the Sabbath.
Jesus watches guests taking the seats of honor. In response, Jesus tells a parable about a wedding banquet, offering the advice one should choose a seat of lower honor. That way, if someone of higher status arrives, the guest is not asked to move to a more humble seat. And there is the possibility the host invites a guest to move up to a seat of greater honor.
Jesus’ teaching is sound practical advice. If followed, it helps a guest avoid being disgraced. In his parable, Jesus quotes Proverbs 25:6-7, “Do not put yourself forward in the king’s presence or stand in the place of the great; for it is better to be told ‘come up here,’ than to be put lower in the presence of a noble.” Jesus summarizes what he is saying with the words, “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
This final statement shifts what Jesus is saying from practical advice on how to avoid being disgraced to an important theological statement. A prominent them of Luke’s Gospel is God’s reversal in which the lowly are exalted and the mighty cast down. Jesus himself embodies this reality. He is God incarnate, humbling himself to put on human flesh. Jesus humbles himself in serving others and giving his life on the cross for humanity’s redemption. And God highly exalts him in the resurrection and ascension.
Sunday’s passage concludes with Jesus telling us when we host a luncheon or dinner, we should not invite those who can repay us. Rather, we should invite those who can give us nothing: the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. They will not reward us, but we will be rewarded in God’s realm.
For us as Christians meals are a foretaste of the heavenly banquet God prepares for God’s people. The Eucharist is a foretaste of this heavenly meal. Jesus reminds us of the call to serve others, not seeking our own honor. When we gather for the Eucharist, we should glimpse eternity. At this table earth and heaven are united and we are called to welcome all with no regard for earthly status. Every child of God is welcome and the altar should mirror the reality of the heavenly banquet.
May we put away all earthly pretense when we come to the table to receive the body and blood of Jesus. Let us invite one and all, especially the least, forgotten, and marginalized to the Eucharistic banquet. May all be welcomed and given a place of honor in our assembly, as it is in the heavenly banquet, the wedding feast of the Lamb.
August 25, 2019
Sunday is the 400th anniversary of the beginning of chattel slavery in the United States. On August 25, 1619 twenty captured Africans arrived in the Virginia colony at Port Comfort. They had been seized by English pirates off the coast of Mexico from a Portuguese slave ship. The Africans were sold to English colonists in Virginia for labor.
This anniversary offers us the opportunity to highlight two important themes in our history as a nation. The first is the significant contribution enslaved Africans made to our country. Through their labor as slaves the economy of this nation was built, particularly because of cotton production. Without the unpaid labor of enslaved people this would not have been possible. Despite the myths that persist, the economy of the entire nation, North and South, was built upon the contribution of African people working in slave labor. After the end of slavery, African Americans continued to contribute significantly to this country, up to the present day. Their contributions have largely been overlooked, especially by white Americans.
Secondly, this commemoration is a chance for us as a nation to mourn our actions in kidnapping Africans and enslaving them in this country. It invites us to learn our history as a people, seeing clearly the system of white supremacy that was put in place to justify and support slavery (including theology articulated by the church). This racist system continues in our nation today.
The National Park Service will mark this anniversary with events throughout the weekend at Fort Monroe. They have invited people across the country to join them in marking this anniversary by tolling bells. The National Park Service asks for bells to be rung for 1 minute, beginning at 3 p.m., as part of a Healing Day at Fort Monroe in Virginia to commemorate the landing of the first slave ship. For information visit Fort Monroe’s website by clicking here.
Our Presiding Bishop, the Most Reverend Michael Curry, has asked Episcopal parishes to toll their bells. You can view his invitation to the church extended through video by clicking here.
Our own Center for Reconciliation issued this statement to parishes of our Diocese:
August 25th, 2019 marks the 400th anniversary of the arrival of “20 and odd” captive Africans at Port Comfort, near Jamestown, Virginia, thus marking what is considered to be the official beginning of racial slavery in English North America. Presiding Bishop Michael Curry, the Diocese of Virginia, UNESCO, the National Park Service, the national Middle Passage Ceremonies and Port Markers Project and the Center for Reconciliation invite all people of faith to participate in the commemoration of this anniversary today at 3:00 pm by ringing a bell.
Historian Catherine Zipf, PhD reminds us that, “bells have great symbolic meaning to many societies. This national bell ringing celebrates the value, persistence, strength, and courage of these ancestors and will enable all Americans to participate in this historic moment in the spirit of peace, freedom, and unity wherever they are and to share stories about the role played by Africans and their descendants in the history of the nation.
The landing of enslaved Africans at Point Comfort and the various Middle Passage locations was a link in a chain of profound events that shaped the United States. Commemorating that history honors the lives of these African people and their descendants, acknowledges their sacrifices, determination, and contributions, and encourages a re-shaping of the history with a more honest and inclusive telling of the story that will continue to unfold and inform.”
On Sunday I have been asked to offer prayers at the CFR gathering at our Cathedral of St. John on North Main Street. You are invited and welcome to attend.
August 18, 2019
It is mid-August, the season of lazy days, summer vacations, and summer reading. Perhaps when we come to church in this season we expect a similar mood. But be forewarned, the scripture readings this Sunday are anything but serene and restful.
From the prophet Jeremiah (23:23-29) we hear, “Is not my word like fire, says the Lord, and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?” In our Epistle from the Letter to the Hebrews we hear of our heroes of the faith. But unlike earthly heroes they suffered terrible things, such as stoning, mocking, flogging, chains, imprisonment, and being put to death for their faith.
In our Gospel (Luke 12:49-56) Jesus is not taking a vacation, resting on a beach somewhere. Rather, the passage opens with Jesus saying, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!” Jesus goes on to say he has not come to bring peace, but rather division.
What are we to make of these words? How are to understand Jesus’ words? Isn’t he the Prince of Peace, the One Luke’s Gospel proclaims is born to usher in goodwill among people? What is Jesus saying to us?
The peace of God is not the same as human peace. Human peace is typically understood as the absence of conflict. God’s peace is the peace of shalom. Shalom is working for the full personhood of every person. Shalom affords all people their dignity as those created in the image and likeness of God, of those beloved of God.
Living by God’s peace, proclaiming shalom in one’s life, is at odds with the ways of this world. Doing so will inevitably bring division and strife. While Jesus does not come to sow division, taking discipleship seriously means living in opposition to the values of this world. This may cause division.
We saw this on Wednesday night when Never Again Action, a Jewish activist group was protesting immigration policy at the Wyatt Detention Center in Central Falls and a correctional officer allegedly drove his truck through the protest, striking several people. The protesters say the Central Falls police did nothing in response. (For the story, click here).
These protesters believe their faith calls them to respond to the immigration practices of the federal government which they find unjust. There action threatens the status quo and prompted a response from the officer based on a different set of values and assumptions.
As followers of Jesus we are called to live by a higher calling than the ways of this world. If we do so, however, we will be judged by others who do not share our calling. Division and strife may result, even within our own household, among members of our own family.
Our epistle assures us, however, we are not alone. We “are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.” These heroes of the faith gave their lives in witness to Jesus, even enduring the agony of death for his sake. Just as Jesus sets his face to Jerusalem, willingly enduring his cross, passion, and death, so they gave their lives for Jesus’ sake. They are an inspiration and support to us as we likewise walk with Jesus. We share with them citizenship in the household of God, in the community of those washed in the blood of Jesus. With them we already share in Jesus’ resurrection.
We are assured that through the death and resurrection of Jesus, in which we share through baptism, we are set free. Walking with Jesus in resurrection life we are free to love extravagantly, witnessing to God’s love and living by God’s shalom. We are assured no power of this world, even evil and death, are stronger then God’s love. Through the witness of all the followers of God, the power of God’s love made known in Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit can transform the face of the earth.
August 11, 2019
This year is being observed as the 400th anniversary of the beginning of slavery in what would become the United States. On August 25, 1619 20 captured Africans arrived in what is now Virginia. They had been seized by English pirates off the coast of Mexico, from a Portuguese slave ship. The Africans were sold to English colonists in Virginia for labor. For an article about this anniversary, click here.
This anniversary was not a motivator for my recent sabbatical examining race and white supremacy. My work was largely the outgrowth of initiatives in the Mt. Hope neighborhood and my response to the racial tensions in our nation. This terrible milestone this month makes clear the timeliness of my experience.
This week I want to share more of my sabbatical experience with you, focusing on the Legacy Museum and The National Memorial for Peace and Justice, both undertakings of the Equal Justice Initiative in Montgomery, AL.
The Legacy Museum teaches about the legacy of slavery, and its continuation through Jim Crow and mass incarceration, in the oppression and dehumanization of people of color. One of the first things I saw upon entering the museum was text tracing the history of the land the museum now occupies. Located on Commerce Street in the heart of downtown Montgomery, the land originally belonged to the Crete Indians and was taken from them by white settlers.
The part of Commerce Street occupied by the museum, as well as businesses and hotels, was the site of warehouses and slaves pens. Slaves were held in the pens from their arrival in the city until sold at public auction. Slaves were transported by boat on the Alabama River and on a railroad built by slave labor.
In connecting the legacy of slavery with Jim Crow laws and mass incarceration, I learned several things. As during the days of slavery, certain assumptions about African Americans are perpetuated into the present, including the presumption of guilt, not innocence. The Civil Rights movement, while having an impact on US society, changed little in the criminal justice system. The US has 5% of the world’s population and 25% of the world’s incarcerated. The rate of imprisoned women in this country has increased 646% in the past 25 years.
After visiting the museum, I traveled across the city to The National Memorial for Peace and Justice. This site is called a sacred place to remember and memorialize the more than 4000 people known by name to have been lynched. Artists have created haunting sculptures found on the six acre site. 800 steel monuments, one for each county in the country where a racial lynching took place, list the names and death date for each person lynched.
This is one of the most difficult places I have ever visited. It was emotional seeing the horror of lynching represented in the 800 monuments carrying far too many names. I spent time sitting in the heart of the Memorial feeling grief. The only appropriate response seemed prayer. I prayed the Great Litany and prayers for the dead from the Book of Common Prayer. I asked God to move the hearts of the white church, including my own, to confront this history and work to dismantle white supremacy.
At the Legacy Museum are several panels as visitors leave the exhibit space. They ask visitors what they will do about all they have learned and seen in the museum. One was addressed to the white church and I think it is worth reflection:
“Throughout most of the 20th century, many white churches openly supported racial segregation and refused to permit black people to worship with them. The role of the church in supporting slavery, being silent about lynching and terrorism, and justifying racial segregation has never been acknowledge. Do churches and people of faith have a special obligation to address the history of racial inequality?”
August 4, 2019
It is a great joy to return to the Redeemer after three months of sabbatical. My time away was fruitful and restful. It was also educational and challenging. I think it will take time for me to process what I have experienced and how to share it with you. I come back to the parish filled with gratitude for the opportunity you graciously gave me.
This week I want to share an overview of what the past months have been for me. The beginning of May was a time for rest and detaching. I spent some time visiting family. I began reading the volumes on my reading list. Three days were spent on retreat at the Society of St. John the Evangelist, an Episcopal monastery in Cambridge. These days of silence and prayer in community set a tone for the following weeks.
Originally I thought during sabbatical I would make a pilgrimage to Canterbury Cathedral in England. While this would have been meaningful, I felt it did not relate to my sabbatical work on race and white supremacy directly. At any time I could travel there. Instead, I increasingly felt called to journey to Montgomery, Alabama.
In mid-June I spent a week in Montgomery. This city, the capitol of Alabama, was central in the Southern slave trade. Its location on the Alabama River near an important railroad line from Atlanta to New Orleans (built with slave labor) was a vital link in the selling of slaves from the upper South the newly developing cotton plantations in the Southwest.
In the mid-twentieth century, Montgomery was an important center in the Civil Rights movement, most notably in the bus boycott of 1955-56 that began with Rosa Parks and was led by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., pastor of the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery.
Today Montgomery is home to Equal Justice Initiative. As it says on their website, “The Equal Justice Initiative is committed to ending mass incarceration and excessive punishment in the United States, to challenging racial and economic injustice, and to protecting basic human rights for the most vulnerable people in American society.”
The EJI is very present in Montgomery through the Legacy Museum where the history of slavery, lynching, and mass incarnation are highlighted and connected, as well as the National Memorial for Peace and Justice where the more than 4,000 people lynched in this country are remembered by name. I also visited the Rosa Parks Museum and the Freedom Rides Museum located in the city.
The remainder of my time I spent locally, and visited several sites, including the Royall House and Slave Quarters in Medford, MA, a surviving 18th century home with its slave quarters extant, and the Robbins House, home of a free African American family in Concord, MA. I went on the African American Heritage walking tour of Beacon Hill, Boston offered by the US National Parks Service.
In addition to time spent reading, there was time for recreation and refreshment, including a week spent in Vermont, visiting art museums, and time with family. On Sundays I attended the 9 am Eucharist at SSJE, being wonderfully fed by their liturgy, music, and fine preaching. In all it was a rich and rewarding experience.