The Seventh Sunday after Epiphany: Handling Change

by Fr. Bill Garrison

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Today we are thinking about life changes that happen to all of us. How we handle change can inform and decide how our lives are lived in many ways. Here’s a little story to underline that fact.

          Fred came home from college in tears. “Mom, am I adopted?” he asked.

          “No of course not,” replied his mother. “Why would you think that?

          Fred showed her his genealogy DNA test results. No match for any of his relatives, and strong matches for a family who lived clear across town. Perturbed, his mother called her husband. “Honey, Fred has done a DNA test, and... and... I don't know how to say this... he may not be our son.”

          “Well, obviously!”, was the reply.

          She gasped. “What do you mean?”

          “It was your idea in the first place! You remember, that first night in the hospital when the baby did nothing but scream and cry and was driving you crazy? You asked me to help you out and change him for you. So, I did. And I picked a good baby for sure!

          Today we are blessed to have witnessed a baptism of father and son. We know that as close as they might be, this event will forever make them even closer. A change has happened in their relationship. You see my father and I were baptized at the same time so I can speak to what has happened here today first hand. I traveled to Milton Freewater, Oregon a couple years ago and actually saw our baptisms in the official record. It was an emotional experience for me. Today we are giving Matt and Makaio baptismal certificates commemorating this event. We will also place their names in the official record. So, like me, if either ever wants to confirm their baptisms the record will be available, and they will be listed together. The Holy Spirit has touched them both this day, and bound them even closer together for all time.

          The other important event today is the celebration we will be having to highlight the ministry of Rev. Carole, and to send her to God’s next stop with a wonderful and enthusiastic St. Matthias send off.

          I first met Carole as we were attending a class in Claremont on Saturdays. Several of us from St. Matthias were there taking that class from my favorite professor. Carole was there too as she was getting close to finishing her seminary education.

          It turned out Carole needed to spend some time in a church getting some field education as part of her graduation requirements. She and I sat outside the classroom one afternoon and she asked me if we would be interested in having her join us for a semester or two.

          Folks, I admit the idea of taking on a soon to be ordained person, much less an associate, was the farthest thing from my mind. Had anyone else asked me it would have been a flat no, not interested. But I sensed God in the idea, and I have learned to honor God and the Holy Spirit in my travels as a Christian and priest.

          Why and how did I feel God’s presence you ask? Well, what God wanted was almost shouted at me. You see we both have roots in a very small town of about 30,000 people in northeastern Oklahoma. She grew up there and my entire family lived in this little town or very close. We both know the area and customs intimately. I had been in this area of Oklahoma multiple times every year of my life.

          Carole had previously heard me speak on Facebook and recognized my voice from class. She said it jarred her. God’s presence in our mutual future was so obvious to both of us that we knew it had to be preordained. If we ignored the obvious, we did so at our own peril.

          So, Carole joined with us for the women’s retreat during the summer of 2017 and participated in her first service on August thirteen of that year. I remember showing her how to tie a cincture. That’s the rope belt that goes around us. It’s pretty basic. All of us have had a great deal to do with her growth as an ordained person. I am certain she agrees.

          Well time has flown. Carole finished her seminary education and was ordained to the transitional diaconate June the second of 2018, and to the priesthood on January twelfth, 2019. Tim Adams carried the St. Matthias flag in the procession that day.

          Carole has made a difference here. She has been my partner in ministry and has done much to add to the welfare of this church. I am proud of her and I am proud of the people of St. Matthias as you have taught her, and been taught by her.

          And God isn’t finished yet. God has more for her to do. She has been called to become the Priest in charge at St. Thomas of Canterbury in Temecula. We are sad to see her go, but we also recognize we are not in charge. God is in charge. She will be the leader those folks need. She will be loved and she will love them. But who knows what the future holds after a time there? Gods knows and God will reveal God’s plans in God’s time.

          You see life change is more common than most of us think. In fact, I would say that change is more common than anything else in life. Even the things we see as constants are constantly changing. Couples that have been married for decades are not the same as when they began. Buildings get older and are renovated. Towns and cities grow and change and sometimes fade away. Even the geography is constantly changing. Mountains wear down. Rivers change their courses.

          God is in the middle of all of it. God is involved in every person’s life. God has hopes for each of us. God wants the best for each of us I truly believe. The question becomes not is change coming, but rather what is it that God would like us to do? Now understand. God doesn’t make anybody do anything. God is a gracious God. God asks, sometimes quite loudly, but never forces us to do as God wishes. It’s called free will.

          So how do we listen to God? Well, the messages come to us in a variety of ways. For Carole and I it was pretty obvious what God wanted. At other times things may not be as obvious. We might have an idea or two about the future, but we are unsure. We need to discern God’s will.

          I want to introduce you to a concept. It’s called Holy Indifference. In a nutshell that means we are not caught up in worry about the future. All we want to is to follow where God leads us. When we honestly reach that place within, and it sometimes takes some prayer and study to get there, things become more obvious. Doors begin to open almost by themselves. Objects and people blocking the way move out of the way. And soon it becomes obvious we are following the path God laid out for us.

          Now please understand. As you probably already know change is hard and it’s scary. For some more frightening and painful than it is for others. So, here’s an analogy that I hope is comforting as we contemplate next steps in life and what God would prefer.

          Think about a trapeze. There are two important people on it, the flier and the catcher. We are the flier. We know we have to let go. We know we are going to be in space, and when we look down, we don’t see a net. It’s terrifying. If the catcher doesn’t catch us, we are probably going to be severely injured or die.

          The trapeze of life, of change, has one important component to it that we must remember as we let go, and the feeling of being alone in the world is overwhelming. But we have great news. The catcher waiting for us is God. God is going to catch us. We may feel alone and afraid, but God is on the other end of the journey. It’s going to be ok. We can trust our catcher.

          So today, we know Makaio and Matt are going to be ok. We know that our beloved Carole will be fine. And so will we. We will be ok too. God is waiting and will catch us all as we move into the future. It’s where God wishes for us to go.

 

Rev. Carole celebrating Holy Eucharist on the first Sunday after her ordination. Photo courtesy of Bob Howe.

The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany: The Beatitudes

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Luke 6:17-31

Jesus came down with the twelve and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.

Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.  “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.

“Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.

“Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.

“Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.

“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”

Jesus said, “I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Last week Fr. Bill told us about how meaningful part of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is to him, that it is a defining scripture in his faith.  The lectionary writers have been especially kind because this week I get to talk about mine. The beatitudes – and especially Luke’s version so important because they are a glimpse into the very heart and mind of God. This is how we know what God values. I think it speaks to us as 21st century people.

I prefer it to the version in Matthew’s gospel because this understanding about God makes all the difference in our lives and in the way that we respond to other people, especially those whose lives are different from ours. And most important, Luke’s version gives us a way to turn things around when we lose sight of what is important to God and gives us a path back.

Blessed are the poor Jesus says to them. Right on top, first thing. The poor receive the first and greatest blessing. Jesus reassures them.  Theirs is the kingdom of God.  You may have little here.  But you are so loved by God that you have the entire Kingdom. You have everything.   

Let’s remember who Jesus’ immediate audience was: fishermen, tradesmen, average hard working folks who had walked away from their families and livelihoods to become his disciples.  At this time, the general feeling was that if you have lots of stuff, a lovely home and plenty to eat you have them because God loved you and cared about you and wanted to bless you. Jesus turns that inside out.  Blessed are you, he tells them, when you have none of these things. God loves you too. God blesses you too with things eternal that will not change and will not fade away.

The poor today are often seen as lazy, as an embarrassment to themselves or society generally. They are seen as “the architects of their own destruction” as the saying goes. Can you hear the judgment in that?  That’s the conclusion that we too quickly draw. Have you ever walked past someone clearly living in poverty and thought about how richly blessed that person is?  No, me neither.

And yet, here is Jesus trying to shake us loose from those assumptions, and give us a different vision of life - one that has its foundations not in the world but in the very nature of God. Jesus’ words from the Beatitudes speak to us about people who were disenfranchised, powerless to make things happen. He told them there was another kingdom, not of this world, in which their aspirations were honored. He also assured them that God recognized their plight, and would uphold them. 

There are people throughout our land who are in just such a predicament today. In February we observe Black History Month, a time to recognize a whole group of people who have been hated, reviled, and excluded because of their race. Their poverty has roots in the fact that they have limited choices in parts of life that most of us take for granted – where they can live, go to school, work, shop for the things they need. That’s what poverty really is, a lack of choice. Who hears the cry of their plight?  Jesus tells us that God hears them, sees their predicament, and intends justice to be their reward.

Luke even adds a section of “woes” to the Beatitudes to show the coming reversal, when the poor, the undervalued, the excluded, and the reviled will be the joyous and those who have had it good will be impoverished, hungry, and grieving. It offers not only an outpouring of God’s love but also a way back.

When we find ourselves living lives that fall more easily into the “Woe To You” world than in the “Blessed Are You” section it’s because it’s tempting to downplay our own blessings. Doing so exempts us from helping those who have less. I might have a house and be able to pay all my utilities each month, but all the other costs and responsibilities feel heavy. I don’t always remember the blessing of having a home.

A friend who teaches ethics at a junior college asked her students to seriously consider whether they would give up their own comforts in order to ensure another person would have enough to survive. Most responded with uncertainty. They’re not used to thinking of themselves as rich to begin with. So the idea that they actually are is a strange proposition.

Her experience is that students are much more comfortable arguing why those two things are unrelated than they are with admitting that there are some things they’d refuse to go without. And besides, they assert, they have what they have because they have worked hard and made all the right decisions. And while that may be true, it doesn’t occur to them that they are where they are because of blessings – parents that supported them, teachers who took an interest in them, school districts who implemented programs allowing them to explore their gifts. Blessings that not everyone has.

The Gospel never settles for accommodation. Jesus makes no excuses for those who have plenty; their fortunes will change. As the lesson from Jeremiah reminds us, “I the Lord test the mind and search the heart to give to all according to their ways, according to the fruit of their doings.”

I’ve been reading about naturalist Jane Goodall.  I’m sure you’ve heard about her work with chimpanzees in Africa. In the process of observing wild things she’s become something of an expert on how all living creatures treat one another and how it seems to have deteriorated during her lifetime. The question she has most often been asked is if she believes there is a hope for our world.  Her answer is an emphatic yes. Hope is often misunderstood, she says.  People tend to think of it as passive, wishful thinking. 

But hope requires action and engagement. All these situations that Jesus talks about today – poverty, grief and hatred – seem so pervasive and well-entrenched that we can’t possibly do anything about it. The Good News today is that we can! Thankfully, Luke gives a roadmap of return to God’s blessings filled with hopefulness. As one of my favorite movie lines goes: “God loves you just as you are and loves you way too much to let you stay that way.”  

Luke’s gospel is where we see how to turn woes into blessings. Luke’s gospel gives us reason to hope. Jesus tells us to love your enemies, offer a blessing when you are cursed, pray for those who abuse you, turn the other cheek to one who strikes you, give to those who beg from you. All these things have one thing in common. They break the cycle of violence. They allow love to be present where none can be found.

Jesus asks that our response to those who want to harm us not be predicated on their behavior and instead return good for bad. If we return violence for violence where will it stop?  If we curse those who curse us, how can the nastiness possibly end?  Where will we see God and allow God to work?  Ending the cycles of violence puts hope into action, hope for being a part of God’s love for the world in spreading God’s love to all. Our actions inspire others. Hope is contagious. 

It’s up to us. In the beatitudes Jesus offers us his picture of God’s values and God’s priorities; and he offers them as an alternative to the vision of life the world imposes on us. We can only act on what we see and embrace; and Jesus is giving us the chance to see farther, and clearer, and deeper than ever before. Blessed are you when the heart and mind of God live and act through you.  Amen. 

The Second Sunday after the Epiphany: Sharing Our Gifts

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

John 2:1-11

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed. You know that when you were pagans, you were enticed and led astray to idols that could not speak. Therefore I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says "Let Jesus be cursed!" and no one can say "Jesus is Lord" except by the Holy Spirit.

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses.

I’ve always thought that this gospel would be just perfect for the second Sunday in May because that’s Mother’s Day. That usually falls during Easter season and this isn’t an Easter kind of story. But this interaction between Mary and Jesus – with God at the center - is so true to life and so relate-able, reveals both the human and the divine story in both of them.  So forgive me if I spend a little time on Mary and her part in this. Just as we heard in Advent, this Epiphany moment is largely here because she nudges it into being. Jesus ministry starts in an unlikely time and place with her not-so-subtle prompting that we can safely assume came to her from God.

Those of us who were fortunate to have someone in our lives who was proactive in mothering us – whether it was our actual mother or someone who took that role – can understand Jesus’ reaction to Mary’s prompting. Did you have a mom who pushed you to get out on that stage, or that athletic field, or join a debate club, or a church choir, enter the science fair or go out and play with the new kid in the neighborhood?  Moms do that.  Moms tend to be partners with God in many ways. Of all the people in our lives, mothers tend to see us as God sees us – through eyes and hearts brimming with love and confidence and pride and joy. 

Jesus reacts to her the same way we might respond to our pushy mothers. Whatever timing he has in mind, this isn’t it. He’s abrupt with her:  leave it alone, don’t push me. Maybe even don’t embarrass me in front of my friends by telling me what to do. I’m not ready.

Mary pretty much ignores that and assumes that Jesus is going to be a good son and listen to his mother-and he does. Why wouldn’t he?  It’s safe to assume that Jesus knows the circumstances of his birth, has heard how angels visited both his parents. How God clearly favored them and called upon them to accomplish great things. And they said yes, even though it wasn’t a good time or place to do so. Perhaps initiating the revelation of the glory of God on earth right then in the pantry of a country wedding with a few servants looking on was one of those great things. Mary is a woman we can trust to be connected to God and pay attention to God’s promptings throughout all time. 

Now, this story is not about the bride and groom or the needs of the wedding guests. It is about Jesus. This first time that Jesus made his full self known, even to his disciples, he did so in response to real and important human need. To run out of wine in the middle of a wedding celebration would have been so shameful the couple never would have heard the end of it. And Jesus responded to that human need with the simplest of things – water, clay jars, a ladle. He created something new, created wonder, taking them out of their places of common understanding.

Jesus revealed himself for the sake of others. Who he was and what he had was not for him. It was always and only for others from the very beginning.

Keep that in mind as we think for a minute about the Epistle. The verses we heard today from Paul address peculiar things that were going on in the church in Corinth in the first century – things that were selfish and unkind. They were a religious community gone far from The Way of Jesus Christ.  Clearly they were not invested in the idea of doing the loving thing. There was a strong sense of who is best and who is the rest.

And they appear to have been having different spiritual experiences and encounters with God - which is not a bad thing - but they were getting possessive and competitive about it. They were saying things like, “this gift is mine, this way of doing things is mine, this spirituality is mine.”

What Paul says to them is what Jesus made real when the wine at the wedding gave out. Paul tells the Corinthians, “what you have is simply not for you. What you have is for others.” To each is given the presence of the spirit for the common good. This is a fundamental spiritual truth about the nature and purpose of God and God’s dream for God’s people. Then and now.

The gifts we are given – the ones we like and the ones we don’t especially like – are not for us. Maybe even not about us. All that we have has been gifted to us by God. It is given us so that we might be givers, so that we might build up, so that we might help, so that we might be a part of something greater, so that we might serve our neighbors and build up this place in this time for the Kingdom of God. In one way or another, that is the purpose of our lives, and everything in them.

The church members in Corinth couldn’t possibly get their community aligned with God’s dream for them until they realized that what they had was not for them or about them. It was given to them so they could use it to give, and to build, and to help, and to create.

What Jesus had that made him special, and unique was not given to him for his own sake. It was given so Jesus could choose to give all of himself for all of us. 

At the wedding in Cana of Galilee, Jesus chose to abandon his own plans and his own schedule, and to reach out. And because he did there was plenty of wine for the guests of the wedding couple. There was an absolute deluge of excellent wine.  One expert believes that based on the number and size of jars of water, he created 600 bottles.  From simple clay jars, from water.  God through Jesus took what seems simple to us and made it into a sacrament. 

We are invited in this gospel to trust in God’s generosity and abundance. To rejoice in it. To search endlessly for it.  No better example of the gift of abundance in our lives than air – so complex but so simple. These last few days since our rain storms the air has been sweet and clear.  Those of you who are knowledgeable about physical sciences – and that would be virtually all of you here compared to me – know that air is made up of many chemicals mostly nitrogen and oxygen and dozens of lesser and trace chemicals.  But when we take it in, it is so simple.  It’s a complex gift given to us in a simple accessible way. Just go outside. Just breathe.  I only understood this through the eyes and experience of my friend Phil. 

Phil suffered from a lung disease that at times would be so severe that he would end up in the hospital. He needed help of machines to be able to breath. After one particularly serious episode we talked about how he now treasured the simple gift of air, of the ability to take a deep breath that he had taken for granted most of his life. Now her understood it as a sacrament – an ordinary thing made holy when seen through new eyes. “When I can fill my lungs with air, he said “it extinguishes fear. And I understand how completely God holds me.” 

Rabbi Abraham Heschel said that “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. To get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually.”

So, how do we do this? Listen to Mary. Do whatever Jesus tells you.  Jesus gives us simple, straightforward things to do. There are lots of verbs in the gospels that really aren’t hard to understand when it comes right down to it. Jesus tells us to love, share, give, serve, listen, learn, worship, pray. The mundane becomes miraculous. When we do these things, the old inferior wine is forgotten. It‘s all good wine now. God’s Kingdom increases by and through each of us. 

This is not magic. This is the true connection to the Creator – God in Jesus, Jesus in God.  Every Epiphany is a moment of creation, even for us. An uncovering that shows us that our hour has come to follow him. As simple and pure and accessible and uncomplicated as a long deep in-take of breath. 

Mary gives the answer: do whatever he tells you. Seek life at its source. Seek joy at its source. Seek to know what Jesus Christ asks of you. This is the key for joining Jesus in his new way of being in the world. Take a deep breath today. For yourself, in empathy with those who cannot, to take away the fear and instead live in amazement of the simple gifts we’re given. Amen.

Christmas Day

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Luke 2:1-20

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Some dear friends of mine were in London a few years ago and had an interesting experience. Instead of staying in a hotel, they rented what’s called a narrow boat.  These are moored in the canals that wind through London.  And although their boat was stationary, other narrowboats would travel by them at the brisk pace of about 3 or 4 mph.  Boats are long and narrow from 50 to 70 feet long and about 6 feet wide. And they are steered from the back.

One morning they were sitting out on their deck when a narrow boat started to come slowly past them. And perched on the front like a hood ornament on a car was a startling sight – a pink stiletto shoe! A stiletto is a very fancy piece of ladies footwear - a pointed toe and a pencil thin heel about 5 inches tall.  And there was just one. It’s hard to imagine a stranger sight!  Perched on the bow of this rough and sturdy river boat. And they wondered immediately – what is the story?

Now conversations with other boaters on the river is a common thing. They tend to be an easy going, collegial group of folks. And as the back of the boat approached they could have greeted the captain and asked about the pink stiletto.  But they didn’t. They didn’t ask. They didn’t want to take a risk. I’m not sure why. Maybe they were afraid to look foolish or interrupt his train of thought. But they didn’t get the story. They missed out. To this day, they wonder what it was all about.  And they are pretty sure they missed a unique story from an interesting man.

My friends’ adventure – or misadventure – reminds me of the shepherds and their reaction to the announcement of the angels, their opportunity to ask, to hear the story, to be witnesses to the triumph of the power of love over the love of power.  Their response to seeing the angels, hearing about the baby in the manger was to go and see.

The angels were the ones God sent to tell the good news to the shepherds. In those days, shepherds were not considered quaint or delightfully simple. They were considered unclean, dishonest, and religiously lacking. It’s hard to keep the Law of Moses on a hillside but it doesn’t seem that anyone cut them any slack for that. In fact, the shepherds were almost certainly the least important of those within walking distance of Bethlehem. But they heard the news first.

God is like that. God reveals the most wonderful things to those who society doesn’t think are especially worthy of wonderful things.  And so they went.  More important that the flock, more important than anything else. No one stayed behind. None of the shepherds said “I don’t think I’ll go, I’ll just stay here.  You let me know what happened, fill me in later.”  They dropped everything and went.

And what happens when you come to visit a newborn and its family? I suspect it’s been the same throughout time. You see this tiny infant.  And you’re just awash with the miracle of it all. There’s been a long wait for the little one to arrive. Even if you’ve seen those incredible scans that medical technology can provide today there’s still nothing like seeing the baby. There’s nothing like holding the baby which moms usually offer.  “Would you like to hold the baby?”

And I wonder if Mary, after hearing that they also had a visit from an angel just as she had, just as Joseph had and pondering it in her heart, I wonder if Mary didn’t feel such a connection to these wild and rough shepherds if she didn’t ask if he wanted to hold the baby.

If you had a chance this Christmas morning to hold the baby Jesus in your arms, what would you say to him?

In 1994 Richard Schmidt wrote a reflection entitled, “Christmas: Let Me Hold You, Dear Little Jesus.”

Little Jesus, let us hold you now. On this holy day of celebration, let us cradle you in our arms. Let us hold you and keep you warm. Now, while you are small and vulnerable, let us watch over you. We want to hold you now, because very often in times to come, you will hold us.

Sleep well, sweet baby. Rest your tiny eyes. For someday you will look at the world and you will see the pain and loneliness and ache that humans bear. You will look at us and see us just as we are, with all our loveliness and sins. You will look and see the Christ within each one of us, and you will try to teach us to see it too.

Hush now, sweet baby. For someday from your mouth eternity will speak. Your words will define grace, pronounce blessings, teach, and paint pictures with words so we too might see our eternal God the way you know God to be. You will speak forgiveness to those who wrong you, will invite us to paradise to be with you forever, will send us forth in your name to all the world. Your words will echo down through centuries, bringing meaning and hope to our lives.

Rest now, tiny child. For someday you will walk many miles to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives. Someday you will stride out across billowing waves in a storm-tossed sea. Rest your feet now, for someday millions will follow in your footsteps.

And sweet baby, with your little heart, how much love you will show. Rest now. And let us hold you. Someday we will feel deep sadness and sorrow. Something will happen in our lifetimes that grieves us so deeply that we may wonder where you are. But you will come to us, then, not as a helpless baby, but as the Prince of Peace. You will remind us of the promises of God, of the strength of hope, of God’s deep loving kindness, God’s steadfast love. You will hold us close, and if we are quiet enough to hear, you will whisper to us that all will be well. You will tell us that you are here for us always, not just when we are empty enough to know we need you. You walk beside us, offering us your peace every day.

You will come to us not be a helpless infant then. When you come to find us, you will come as our Wonderful Counselor, our deliverer. You will tell us that you searched for us. And when you find us, you will invite us to your banqueting table and nourish us with your very self. You will remind us that we belong to you; we are yours.

You will do all of these things for us at great cost to yourself. You will teach us the meaning of giving, all that we have and are, on behalf of goodness and love, no matter the cost.

But that will be someday. Today we adore you as a baby. We welcome you as a helpless, vulnerable babe, as the Almighty God who became a child so we could become full mature human beings. This is the day, the wondrous day when the creatures hold our creator. This is the day of grace, when the Lord of heaven and earth stoops down, reverses roles, and allows us – the finite – to serve the infinite God.

This Christmas day, don’t miss out on the story. Come to the manger. Come to the light.  This is God’s story, it’s our story. Everything we need to celebrate what is good and get through the dark times is there. Amen.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent: The Magnificat

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Luke 1:39-55

In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.

When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

for the Mighty One has done great things for me,

and holy is his name.

His mercy is for those who fear him

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

He has helped his servant Israel,

in remembrance of his mercy,

according to the promise he made to our ancestors,

to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

 The gospel writer today gifts us with a brief story about genuine connection between two pregnant women of different generations. And in this connection we get to see God at work in a deeply personal way that also just happens to change the world. God starts the salvation story by choosing a poor young girl, her aged cousin, a kick of recognition and a song.

And we hear Mary’s story is in her song, the first Advent hymn. It tells us that she knows who God is and what God is about.  She understands that her “yes” to God is a “yes” to everything that God has always been - one who scatters the self-centered and hard hearted, who takes away their power in favor of the lowly and fills up those who hunger for truth and justice. It tells of Mary’s expectations for what her son will accomplish – wondrous reversals in the world upsetting the status quo and inverting human structures and values. There is fire in Mary’s song.

It underlines that the focus of Christmas is on those who struggle with the realities of life. This story reminds many that, in the midst of their struggles, hope is born. Not in any way as a denial of their realities, but confirming them.

This story of Mary and Elizabeth reminds me of my relationship with my much older cousin. I have an unusual family situation: both of my parents were only children. So I have no aunts or uncles and no cousins of my own. My mother, though, had a cousin, Carolyn, who was 35 years older than I was. Carolyn and I had a similar story. Like me she was married many years and did not have children. In my 20’s and 30’s I had a big and rich circle of girlfriends. And in the natural course of life, each of them started to have children. As this happened, I was so happy for them. But it meant that they sought community with other new moms. Naturally they sought support and connection with other women who were also giving birth and raising children. So I saw my relationships with each of them diminish and fade away. And I felt those losses deeply. It was a source of grief. 

But God in God’s mercy at that time helped me renew my connection with my mother’s cousin, Carolyn. We started to spend time together. She lived in Arizona and I would make the trip to see her. We discovered that we had interests in common that I didn’t share with anyone else or with my mother. Carolyn, who had been a widow for many years, referred to her friends as “the widow ladies.”  She took care of them. Every time I visited we did something for them. We would visit them and run errands for them. Carolyn would say there’s someone who needs a plate and we would fix food and take it to them. She showed me that there was more than one way to engage in mothering.

What a tremendous, what a tremendous gift of connection. Like Elizabeth recognizing in Mary that she had a critical role in the salvation of the world, Carolyn helped me realize what I could do. I don’t remember either of us ever bursting into song but I think we both felt filled up and empowered after our visits. That’s why I love this powerful story of the connection and mutual support of these women.

Mary is remarkable because she knew what she was getting into because she was well acquainted with the God of Israel. There was no learning curve for her the way there was for me. Perhaps she was one of those courageous girls who craved knowledge about the kings, prophets, heroes and heroines of Judaism and pestered someone to teach her.

Would it surprise you to learn that Mary is not the first to sing this song? Perhaps it was among well known among the young women.  It’s from the Book of 1 Samuel. It was sung by another pregnant woman, Hannah the mother of Samuel, the great priest and prophet. Hannah was unable to have a child for a very long time. She was a subordinate wife who endured incessant teasing by the wife who was able to bear children. But Hannah finally has a son. And when she does, she dedicates him to the temple to become a priest. She sings something very like the song we heard today from Mary. Hannah’s story and song emboldens Mary in hers.

We delight in singing about the mighty works of God this time of year. We find it easy and comforting to sing about God bringing peace and joy into the world. The Magnificat can be read as an invitation to sing along with Mary about our part in that divine action. This is what Jesus’ incarnation tells us. It’s what Mary is telling us: that God brings peace, and joy, and love, and hope to the world through us, by magnifying God’s grace and spirit through us.

“My soul magnifies the Lord,” can mean that through me, through you, through all of us, others can see God’s powerful actions of love more clearly. Through me and through you, through the way we choose to live our lives and practice our faith in the world people can catch a sustained glimpse of God’s justice and peace.

Through each of us, through our words and our actions, through all that we do, we magnify God. We magnify God’s being with our own bodies. We magnify God’s action with our own practices. We magnify God’s word with our words in the world. God is the one who acts. We magnify that action and give it hands and feet and hearts and minds. We collaborate with God in the divine actions of lifting up of the lowly.

A good question to think about in this week leading up to Christmas might be: how is the Lord magnified in me, in my soul?  That’s a big question. It’s easy to think that it’s too big for any one of us to handle. But another important lesson the Magnificat teaches is that you are more than enough to contribute significantly to God’s work in the world. Whoever you are, whatever you have or haven’t done, you are enough. You are more than enough. The song of Mary reminds us of all of the scriptures, of all of the people where “who me?” is the vehicle for salvation.

Bethlehem is nothing special. Hannah was unimportant. Elizabeth was also thought to be barren, and felt disgraced. And Mary is merely an underage woman from the nondescript town of Nazareth engaged to a man we’re told is from the house of David. But that doesn’t really make Joseph all that special; a lot of people were distantly related to David.

All throughout scripture, whenever God wants to do something, it’s the seemingly insignificant and ordinary people that God uses. When God wants to create, God reaches into the mud. When God wants to raise up a king for Israel, God chooses the youngest of many sons, the one sent out to watch his father’s sheep. When God wants to redeem all of creation, God enters in fully and completely as one of the most vulnerable creatures on the planet, a baby.

And just like Mary and Hannah and Elizabeth, we are enough. Each of us is enough to magnify God. Imagine what would happen if we let God work. If we truly made room for God to be born in our hearts. If we let God magnify the good work that God has begun and is already doing in each of us. What if we joined together with others to magnify that work? Imagine the world that would be born from that.

The Christmas story is not an affirmation of those who have, and those who can afford more–and yet, ironically, need it less–but the story of a God who enters lives at their deepest vulnerability and need. Christ is not born in triumph, but in the ordinariness of life, into lives of fractured relationships, lives of deferred or destroyed dreams, lives of alienation and isolation.

As we prepare to welcome Christ once more into our hearts and our homes, may our souls magnify more and more the glory of God and our hearts exult in the goodness of God, this day and always. As Mary says may we also say “The Lord has done great things for me. Amen.

The First Sunday of Advent: Waiting

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Luke 21:25-36

Jesus said, "There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

Then he told them a parable: "Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

"Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man."

1 Thessalonians 3:9-13

How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that we feel before our God because of you? Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you face to face and restore whatever is lacking in your faith.

Now may our God and Father himself and our Lord Jesus direct our way to you. And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.

This is the Sunday in the church year when we get to wish each other a Happy New Year! The church year begins with Advent.  But the reading from Luke doesn’t seem very celebratory, does it.  I have to admit that each year on this Sunday I get a little verklempt.  Whether we’re in Year A, B or C of our lectionary – this year it’s C – the readings are foreboding and frightening. I want to hear about the first coming of Jesus with images of angels and mangers and a heavily pregnant Mary. But it’s about the second coming of Jesus. 

We’re also treated to a reading from Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians. These early Christians also were concerned about Jesus coming again. A little bit of history about them: Paul formed them during his second missionary trip that included the northern part of Greece there Thessalonica was located in the later 40’s C.E. The church there consisted of members from pagan religions who had embraced the good news that Paul brought them. Like most early Christians, the Thessalonians had an understanding that followers of Jesus would all experience the return of Jesus during their earthly lives. That, of course, did not turn out to be the case. And they were distressed because some members of their community had died. What would happen to them, they wondered. 

This letter, which is the first authentic letter of Paul to a church that we have, reassures them Jesus will come again, that they will be united with him and with all believers, all the saints who have died and who are already with him, one day. And Paul gives them guidance on what to do as they wait.

That’s the invitation that we’re offered in the readings today: to a holy process of watching and waiting through the season of Advent. As believers, we have a chance to wait a little differently, to look at beginnings and endings and beginnings again with a focus on the things of God in creation. 

The author Sue Monk Kidd describes in her book “When the Heart Waits” this type of watching and waiting through the lens of creation. She was at crossroads in her life that she had not anticipated and did not welcome. Things that used to matter no longer did; things that had never mattered were suddenly critically important. Her life, she says, had curled up into a question mark.

So in her stress and impatience, she would walk, long walks through a dense forest. On one of these, she looked up as she passed beneath the branches of a dogwood tree.  Her eyes somehow fell onto a strange kind of pod suspended from a twig just over her head. Looking closely she realized it was a chrysalis.

She touched the bottom tip of the tiny brown chrysalis. In that moment God seemed to speak to her about transformation. She understood crisis, change, all the myriad upheavals that blister the spirit and leave us groping for something to hold onto.

Sue took the branch of the dogwood with the chrysalis home with her and attached it to a tree in her yard. And she waited. Like Jesus pointing to the seasons of the fig tree, she survived and thrived through her own crisis by looking past her own chaotic life and aligning with the cycle of creation going on right outside her window. She expected a butterfly to emerge but was content to let it unfold, to watch and wait.

Life is full of endings and beginnings. There are crossroads moments for all of us when an accounting is demanded and transformed living is called for, regardless of when those beginnings and endings occur and regardless of how prepared we might or might not be for them. 

Living with an attitude of expectancy that things will unfold for us just as God unfolds all of creation is the antidote to living buffeted by the emotions of changes. The time to live ever present is always now. 

Time spent waiting is not stagnant time.  It isn’t sit at home, watching the clock tick off the minutes. Paul’s message to the Thessalonian church is a reminder that all the time our faith looks outward. It’s never just about us. It’s not even just about our congregation. It is about seeing the city, the nation and the world as our community to nourish and inform the faith of all those around us. We are to decide about our faith for ourselves but not by ourselves. We are part of something much bigger. Anyone who participated in the Thanksgiving dinner preparation or distribution or received one of the 271 meals prepared by a member of this church on the patio a few days ago knows what that means.

Photo by Torsten Dettlaff from Pexels

This Advent season of waiting, consider the possibility of going into Christmas making an affirmative commitment that focus on what is good, and just and true. So that we, like Paul suggested to the Thessalonians, might restore whatever is lacking in our faith.  I know you’re all familiar with Advent calendars. Each day in December leading up to Christmas there is a little door to open to a Bible verse and possibly a piece of chocolate.

What if we were to decide to wait with an Advent calendar of holy waiting and watching, something unique to each of us? You might set aside a can of food each day to donate it to a food bank on Christmas eve; or take the spare change out of your wallet or pocket each day and add it to a bank to donate to a charity that works for a cause that holds special meaning for you. Or write a note of encouragement each day to the nurses of a hospital, hospice or clinic that cares for COVID patients. You might even find a space in your garden to plant your own fig tree or a tree that will do well in this climate. Or keep a journal each day filling in the blank “Today, waiting feels …….” what? 

On Christmas Eve, as you look back at the words you’ve chosen, or the tasks you’ve done, what will you have learned about watching and waiting? I pray we will all have experienced signs of God birthing new life in our midst and the Kingdom of God come near.   Amen.

The Twenty-fifth Sunday after Pentecost: Hope for the Future

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Mark 13:1-8

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”

Today’s gospel is full of powerful images. When we hear Jesus talk about buildings collapsing, terrible conflicts between nations, earthquakes and famines we clearly see those things in our minds eye. This must be especially true for those of you who experienced the Whittier Narrows earthquake. Such events instill fear in us so deep and overwhelming that they may obscure Jesus’ message: do not be alarmed, do not see them as something they are not.

Instead of giving the disciples the visual clues that they ask for, Jesus tells them how to conduct themselves in the middle or turmoil and persecution. Not only that, he meets their question with a better question: how can they go on when they are surrounded by fear, violence and indifference? They have a choice, of course: succumb to fear and be buffeted by the events of the day and false prophets. Or be witnesses, no matter what comes, to the hope of the gospel message.

I suppose it comes down to their deciding how they will spend their time. This is a good question for all of us especially when we are deluged by news and views that seem every bit as apocalyptic to us as this gospel language did to the disciples.  How do you spend time? How will you live this day?

Each of the lessons we’ve heard today has something to do with the end of time, with a question about “when.”  When will time as we know it end? What will that time look like? We can’t think about the time when things will come to pass without thinking about what we are to do in the meantime. Readings about the future call us to look at how we spend our time now while we are living in a world that keeps reminding us how short our time us, how fast time goes; a world where time management is an issue we seem to be obsessed with, where we look around and see problems so great that even if we had all the time in the world, we might never solve them.

Notice that Jesus doesn’t deny that crisis exists or that there are times that bring great suffering.  But he calls them what they are – birthpangs of God’s power of transformation.  Trusting that God is transforming the world – the larger world and our own more personal world – and that we are called to participate in God’s saving work in a fundamental piece of our lives as Christians.  This is so very hard – growth, change, the coming of new ways of life are frightening processes.  Being patient and hopeful requires one firm belief from us: hope.  This morning, then, we are encouraged to hear how this gospel offers us hope. When we do, we will develop some very important skills, not just to cope, but to hope.  Pastor Amy Richter offers some insight into this with what she calls “hoping skills.”  

The first is to keep the Big Picture Perspective, the God’s eye view of human history.  And the best source for this is Holy Scripture.  Scripture is full of divine promises offering the ultimate in hope. The big picture is this: God is at work, bringing everything to completion according to God’s purposes. God does not willingly cause the suffering of any of God’s creatures, and it grieves the God who made us with the capacity for grief when anyone suffers or causes suffering. God can redeem anything. God is at work now, reaching out to us and offering us lives that are whole and holy, even when we can’t perceive it. So one hoping skill is to focus on the really big picture.

Another hoping skill is to get to know Holy Scripture.  Scripture is how, along with tradition and reason, we know who God is, what promises God has made, how God works, what faithfulness looks like, especially as we know God in Jesus Christ. We can resist being deceived and have reason for hope if we know the scriptures, if we use them as the lens through which to view the world and as a guide for how we make our way in the world, just as we sang in our opening hymn today “radiance from the scripture’s page, a lantern to our footsteps shines on from age to age.” When Jesus is urging his disciples not to be led astray, he is reminding them to cling to what they know about him.

So this is not about being able to recall a few beloved verses but more about truly digging in and reflecting on the whole story of God’s people. When we know that the story ends with victory over death and that the way to victory was through self-giving love, we have reason to hope.

A third hoping skill is this: Expect trouble but expect Jesus Christ more. This passage in Mark from the early days of Christianity describes a reality that has been true ever since. Being faithful has meant persecution, poverty, estrangement and ostracism from family and friends and untold sacrifices. Not only is Christianity not a fast pass out of the problems that everyone encounters, it often means being open to even more difficulties. When we expect Christ more, we know that, as Paul said in his letter to the Romans, nothing shall separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Jesus wanted his disciples to know, his disciples then, and us, disciples today, that we can be alert, open, and watchful for all the signs of God at work in the world, and for what is not of God in the world. Expect trouble, but expect Christ more. Expect that we are not alone in the face of any trouble.

So how do we survive the devastation of an aggressive health challenges, the crashing down of a building, the aftermath of fires and floods that sweep away what we love?  How do we survive the loss of innocence?  How do we live in the midst of competing voices, all full of passionate intensity claiming that there are signs of the end of the age?  Our focus must not be on signs but on the one who is to come, the one who enables us to look up after such devastation and claim God’s blessing with certainty. 

Things may seem to have fallen apart.  It may appear that craziness has been loosed into the world.  But we are not alone. Christ is with us. We are promised the help of the Holy Spirit. How will we spend our time?  Not just coping but hoping. Remember the really big picture. Get to know scripture. Expect trouble. Expect Jesus Christ more. Amen.

Photo by Matt Hardy from Pexels

The Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost: The Kingdom is Near.

By Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Mark 12:28-34

One of the scribes came near and heard the Sadducees disputing with one another, and seeing that Jesus answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ —this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” After that no one dared to ask him any question.

The Scribe Stood to Tempt Jesus - James Tissot

In my Human Resources work I was involved with the hiring process. And I noticed that new employees after a while fell into one of two categories: either they would thrive from the first day and be productive for a significant period of time. Or they just never seemed to quite get in the flow of the company’s work process or get familiar with its products enough to have a successful outing as an employee. Their tenure ended much sooner that the first group and sometimes abruptly.

I began to wonder. With all things being equal as far as experience, training and skill set, what made the difference between those two types of employees.  I believe there are a couple qualities that the successful employees had that the short term folks lacked. 

One is curiosity. Were they curious?  When confronted with a new task could they formulate questions about it, about what was needed and how it fit into the bigger picture? And would they keep asking questions of themselves and others? And the other quality was tenacity.  Would they hang in there?  Would they keep trying new things? Would they collaborate with others to figure out a way to get the task done? Would they see it through to the end? I found that an employee who could blend curiosity with tenacity was set up for success. They felt challenged and fulfilled in their work and the employer benefited from what they did.  

I think the scribe in our gospel today has those qualities. It seems that there may have been several scribes present who heard the discussion between Jesus and the Sadducees. From the previous passages we know they were discussing a hypothetical about marriage with the Sadducees wielding questions like weapons. The scribe heard Jesus tell the Sadducees that their understanding of scripture and the power of God was all wrong.

Scribes were not secretaries and not just charged with writing things down. They were scholars of the Bible and Jewish tradition. Every village had at least one scribe. They devoted themselves to the study of the law and how it applied to daily life. Some of the scribes were also Pharisees.  They were local Jewish leaders. Scribes had knowledge of the law and could draft legal documents – things like contracts for marriage, divorce, loans or the sale of land.

It’s not hard to imagine that the other scribes retreated into their comfort zone.  They were not curious about what Jesus meant. And they were not driven to pursue anything beyond their already accomplished skill set that might disturb their status quo.  

This scribe, listening to Jesus’ answers and realizing that Jesus answered the questions posed to him very well, asks: “Which commandment is the first of all?”  What a perfect question and display of curiosity. Love is foundational for a life grounded in God. 

We all know Jesus’ answer by heart. “Love the Lord your God with your whole heart, soul, mind and strength. Love your neighbor as yourself.”  For the scribe, Jesus’ answer made simple what was once complex and made easy what once was heavy. One scholar has counted the commands in Torah: there are 365 prohibitions – things not to do – and 248 positive commands – things to do.  Altogether that’s 613. Jesus compresses this into just 2.  Simply 2. Simple does not mean easy, though. Life is a process of raising up priorities, the first one being devotion to God and to what God loves. 

Only a God who is Complete Love would make loving completely the supreme command.  God asks of us every bit we have – our emotions, our intellect, our mental and physical energy.  Only by giving everything we have will we have a chance to shape our lives into their best possible forms. Then we are “not far from the Kingdom of God.”  When we give God a mere fraction of ourselves, God becomes for us a mere fraction of what God might be for us.  And even though knowledge of God’s love brings us closer to the Kingdom, entering the Kingdom requires more. Loving God requires loving others every chance we get. It is love made real that reveals the Kingdom. 

The love that Jesus us talking about is agape love.  Our Greek friends identified for us several types of love.  But it is agape love that is the highest form of love there is. It is love lived. It is servant love, self-sacrificial love. It is caring concerned love given with no thought or expectation of it being returned to us.  It is love given in unlikely times and places to the least loveable, the least known - without thought or consideration of whether we think they deserve love.  And the only way to know agape love is to experience it.

In the pre-dawn hours one Saturday in an October before the pandemic, a group calling themselves Abraham’s builders gathered in a Smart & Final parking lot in San Diego. They were from churches and mosques and had gathered to travel into Mexico to build a house in a deeply impoverished neighborhood.  As the sky went from darkness to the deep blue of dawn, they held hands and prayed to be agents of agape love. 

For many people in the group this was their first build, the first time they had joined a Corazon community. Corazon matches families needing housing with materials to build the house and volunteers. Some bring building skills - professional carpenters and engineers – and some who bring enthusiasm and heart to serve.  I was in the second group. In the parking lot, I met Dave, who was a skilled carpenter and had been on more builds than he could count over the last 10 years. “These are great,” he told me, “you’ll love it and you’ll be back.” 

The lots were small so we created the walls and roof of the house somewhere nearby and assembled them on the site.  A prep team, he told me, would already have poured the foundation.  We’re there to put it all together - install windows and a door and hand over the keys to the new homeowners. 

Our caravan of 15 cars arrived and we were directed “down there.”  The road to the site of the new house was really more like a very wide path – only about 10 feet wide to start and winding downwards about 50 yards, gradually narrowing to a width of about 2 feet. This road was rough -- dirt, gravel and rocks – big ones – with crevices – deep ones. On the right side were some scruffy bushes. There was a definite tilt to the left and a drop off that would mean serious injury to anyone who stumbled over the side.

At the site there were huge piles of lumber, buckets of paint and supplies on a 12’ x 12’ cement slab floor and the Molina family -- 3 beaming people who, after 9 years of waiting and working on building homes for other families, would have their own home by sunset that day.

We carried all the building materials up to the top of the road, built sections of walls, carried them back and nailed them in place. Then we built the sections of the roof – a typical pitched roof in two sections.  When it was done it was time to put the shingles on. There were a dozen people on the roof all hammering away – Muslim and Christian students working side by side, Mexican and American women touching up paint, carpenters hanging the front door – the first time this family would have a safe home with a door that would close and lock.  It was long…

There’s not a single thing the Molina family could ever do for anyone on that build that day. And nothing is expected.  But there was that sweet glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven that we each got with a hug and smile from 8-year-old Sofia Molina. My new friend Dave was right. I did go back 2 more times before the pandemic. Because this was love for God and love for neighbor made real. God’s love taking root in the soul of each of us on that build that day.  

When we practice love of neighbor by participating with God in mending a broken world, we know that the Kingdom is very near. A mended world is God’s dream. It is a world where all are fed and housed, with access to clean water, health care and education, where none are excluded, and young and old are cherished as God’s family endeavors to sustain the precious resources of this fragile earth.  It isn’t easy being an agape saturated servant of God. It requires curiosity and tenacity from us. Like a scribe willing to question the past and be drawn to the simple commandments to love. Like 40 people willing to build a home for strangers.  Like all of us willing always to love fully and unreservedly what God loves.  Amen.

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost: First Steps

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Mark 10:17-31

As Jesus was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

I spent time recently with a friend whose father died two years ago. Her mother died long before that. Only recently has she been able to begin the painful work of sorting through the things in her parents’ home and put it on the market for sale. It was so difficult to make the decisions about what to keep and what to donate and what to sell.  Everything she touched had a precious connecting memory of the great love her family had shared in this place. She didn’t even realize how strong her attachment was until she was faced with separation from the lifelong security of this house, this address, this front door key, this gossamer anchor to her wonderful childhood.

Taking steps into the future is often a difficult task – getting ready for the first day of school whether you’re a student or an educator; leaving a secure corporate job to start a business; attending a first AA meeting; calling a marriage counselor; these are transitions in our lives can rock our world. 

We’ve all had to make some significant changes in the way we look at things over the last 18 months. We have looked at what we truly value, evaluated what is essential and what is not. I think we’ve all gained a deeper sense of the preciousness of all life. We may have even gone as far as the rich young man in the gospel today wondering about eternity and our place in it.

This young man comes to Jesus clearly aware that following rules, even the honored rules of the ancestors, does not satisfy him. He perceives that there is something more that transcends the boundaries of his existence. There’s no implication that he’s being deceitful when he says that he has followed the commandments that Jesus lists all his life. He sincerely wants to find the way to eternal life. His question has a passionate urgency about it. And Jesus heart goes out to him. Perhaps Jesus sees him as being among those who are blessed because they hunger and thirst after righteousness.

The next thing we hear is how very much Jesus loves him.  And out of that great love, Jesus calls him to discipleship, to set aside all the things he has that confer status and power over others. Jesus asks him to learn how to be dependent like a child and receive as a gift the salvation that he supposed he could do something to earn.   

“Sell everything you own” was a teaching for this particular man at this particular moment. Jesus’ instruction to him hits him so profoundly in his head and heart that it shocks him. We are told that he goes away in sorrow. Perhaps this well-meaning young man realized for the first time that his possessions possessed him.

Jesus does not tell the young man what following means.  Like the other disciples – like all of us – he has to learn along the way. But he refuses to take that first crucial step in the journey, rejecting the opportunity to learn and grow. He could not bring himself to accept the invitation.  He couldn’t make the transition out of ancient thinking. People in the first century often took wealth as a sign of God’s blessing. But once again Jesus teaches something radical: abundant life offered by God through Jesus Christ is not defined by riches. Many Christians in the first century church who heard Mark’s gospel had had to make a choice between faith and family, but had received a larger family in the community of faith which like this text combines the blessings of living as brothers and sisters in the family of God with the reality of persecution.

The disciples ask “who can be saved?”  But the real question is “who can do the saving?” God and God alone. Here is the heart of the matter: eternal life does not come about by anything we do. It is not one bit connected to our being good or our hard work. We have it because God loves us, because God looks at us with love and desires relationship with us. There is nothing we can or must do to inherit salvation but to know that real riches are in the pursuit of a close relationship with God through Jesus Christ and do all that we can to prevent anything to come between us and God.  

Does this seem impossible to believe? It’s natural to be skeptical because we live in a world thinks in terms of transactions. You give something and get something in return. But God’s economy is not ours. God’s economy transcends ours. This is Mark’s theme of the impossible possibility: what is impossible for human beings is possible with God. We hear this also from Paul: earning salvation is impossible for humans, even the best of us. But God, who creates out of nothing, justifies the ungodly and raises the dead, can save us when we are at our best and at our worst. 

Giving away everything we have is not what Jesus is asking of any of us today. Please don’t feel like God wants you to go home and organize massive yard sale. That would be irresponsible and absurd. But we are called in this scripture to heighten our awareness of where we stand in the socioeconomics of our world.  We are privileged people. I suspect that most of us would acknowledge that we have more material possessions than we really need. There’s nothing wrong with material possessions. Only the worship of them. Only when their importance distracts us from what is important to God which is always to build up the Kingdom of God by caring for and sharing with each other, for creation. It’s about living our lives with the same generosity towards others that God gives to us.  It’s anything but business as usual. 

I wonder what it would be like for each of us if we had the same opportunity as the young man in this gospel story. Can you picture yourself encountering Jesus as he’s walking along with his disciples? Could you courageously step out in front of him and kneel at his feet with the same concern and longing for salvation? What if you were to ask him what you might do so that you might have eternal life? What if you were to ask what you need to set aside?

I have no doubt that he would look at each of us with love. And then he would give us the most marvelous gift – an instruction just for each of us, a sort of 11th commandment to follow, a way that we can grow closer to God both now and forever, a very simple command to accept with childlike joy the gift of salvation freely given. Blessed are you in your hunger and thirst for righteousness.

We don’t know what happened to this young man the next day or the next week. We can hope that his spiritual longing overwhelmed his material attachment and that the end of the story that we heard was a new beginning for him. New life in the Kingdom always allows for first steps. We can hope that Jesus’ words prove to be a rich and strange irritant inside him like a grain of sand in an oyster that eventually produces a beautiful pearl. May it be so for each of us as well.  Amen.

 

Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost: "Who do you say that I am?"

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Detail from stained glass in the church of St Mary and St Lambert in Stonham Aspal in Suffolk; Photo by Kevin Wailes

Detail from stained glass in the church of St Mary and St Lambert in Stonham Aspal in Suffolk; Photo by Kevin Wailes

Mark 8:27-38

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

If you get the weekly email from the Episcopal News Service, you may have seen the story about a hospital chaplain inspired to find a way for doctors and nurses to better connect with their patients. A conversation with a doctor in Johns Hopkins’ Medical Center’s intensive care unit impressed upon Chaplain Elizabeth Tracey the importance of the question that Jesus asks today “who do you say that I am?” 

“All of my patients are intubated, sedated and often prone, and there’s no family telling me their story. I have no idea who they are,” Elizabeth recalled him saying. Other doctors and nurses told her the same thing. Without a sense of the patient’s personality and lifestyle, without a personal connection made through conversations with family members, it was hard for doctors to make the right decisions about appropriate care and avoid putting the patient through unnecessary procedures. It made their work sterile.

That conversation inspired the program now known as TIMS an acronym for This Is My Story. Elizabeth identified patients who couldn’t speak because of intubation or another reason. She called their listed contacts and had 10 to 20 minute recorded conversations with them about the person they knew and loved. She asked patients’ families and friends about personality traits, relationships, hobbies, even favorite foods. Then she’d ask what they would like the medical team to know about their loved one.

Barbara Johnson tells Elizabeth that her sister Beverly in ICU bed 8 is one of four kids in her family, that she worked at the Smithsonian and was a tomboy. Even though Beverly’s petite, she can smack a softball over the fence for a homerun almost every time she’s at the plate.

Afterwards Elizabeth edited the interview down to about 2 minutes and embedded the audio file in the patient’s electronic record so any member of the care team can listen to it. 

Initially there was skepticism. One doctor, who didn’t believe it mattered at all, agreed to try it with his patients, and within a few days, he was requesting it for all his intubated patients. Nurses told her they feel more connected to the patients after listening to the audio, sometimes discovering things they have in common, and giving them something to talk about with their conscious patients, even if they can’t reply with anything more than a smile. Not just projects, not just a diagnosis but a person seeing another person.

Despair, illness, fatigue, fear, skepticism, all transformed by the sharing of insights and willingness to see and listen. “Who do you say that I am?’ This Is My Story:  Two minutes to set aside preconceived notions, to fill a void of understanding. It’s not like a lifetime relationship with family, of course, but it gives nurses and doctors something crucial to guide their care, to give them back touchstone with humanity that inspired them to be doctors and nurses in the first place. A teaching and a turning to a new understanding.

Peter expresses understanding today into the meaning of the life work of their beloved teacher. It’s a true act of faith. He had seen miracles done but that in itself didn’t prove Jesus was the Messiah. Jesus had promised to reveal mysteries to them and told them parables about the Kingdom but he himself never claimed the title. Peter had not heard the words that Jesus heard at his baptism “You are my Son, the Beloved.” The Transfiguration had not yet happened. This was Peter’s own affirmation of faith on behalf of himself and all the disciples accepting that he is the revelation of God.

Here’s the pivotal moment in this reading and in the Mark’s gospel: their eyes are open, their ears are open. Now they see, now they hear. And Jesus begins to teach them. Remember that there were very specific tasks that were expected of the Messiah. He was to be a warrior who would form a great army and crush the Roman oppressors in battle. That was their understanding of what salvation would look like. But Jesus begins to teach them the real meaning of his presence.  It’s salvation through suffering, suffering as the path to new life.    

Who do you say that I am? Just as he asked his apostles, Jesus wants to have that conversation with each of us. And I don’t know if he’d be overly impressed if our response is limited to the catechism. Yes, Jesus is our Lord and Savior, the son of God, the second person of the Trinity to whom we pledge our faith through the creed every Sunday.

Who is Jesus for you? Have you ever been asked that question? Have you asked it of yourself? It’s important because who you believe Jesus is shapes who you believe you are. Think about the physical things about you – where you live, what you wear, your possessions and what those things convey about you. They say a lot about you but are you your possessions?  Who would you be if all those things were taken away?  Would you still be you? 

Think about your family and friends, how you make a living, where you work.  If you did something entirely different would you still be you? Think about your life’s experiences and all the people who have been your neighbors, co-workers, classmates. Think about holiday celebrations, times of mourning and loss, marriages and divorces. We’ve all had many experiences but are we the sum total of them? We tend to get defined by all these things by others who make a superficial assessment of us.  How do we find our true self, our self before God? Not who we think we are or who we think we’re supposed to be or who we might be. But our authentic selves, who we are for God.

Taking up the cross means taking away all the ideas imposed on us about who we think we are or who we’re supposed to be. We’re not our clothing, possessions, our homes, our work, or possessions. It’s not a light tweak our regular life just a little bit. It’s a full on letting go.

We have all suffered losses – loved ones, homes, health, and jobs. We know what it is to hurt. We know how vulnerable it feels with all our pretenses and protections stripped away. We also know what it is to emerge on the other side of that hurt. This is where Jesus pushes us today – to get out of our own way and to get out of God’s way. We have a tendency to hang on to roles and relationships and possessions and the things we have and let them define us. But taking up our cross means letting go, losing our beliefs so we can find an even truer faith.     

Jesus said if you want to have a very meaningful life let me show you the way. Take up something holy and follow me. It might feel a little strange at first but together we’ll go amazing places. What would that look like to you?  What is tugging at your heartstrings today?  Where do your gifts and the needs of the world intersect? 

We passed an important anniversary yesterday. It was 20 years since the terrible tragedy of September 11th. It’s important to remember that day and its’ victims. It’s also important to remember twenty years ago today - September 12th, and 13th and all the days the followed. The whole nation came together in strength to help support those who were suffering, to stand with them in their grief and hear the stories of those who were lost and the heroic efforts to save them. We carried each other’s crosses after 9/11. Carried them from death into life. 

Following Jesus means receiving our lives as holy gifts to be given instead of guarding them as our own possession. It means letting go our usual resistance to God’s peculiar loving ways and following Jesus not into death but into life to be where God is.  Amen.

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Clean Hearts

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

When the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.) So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” He said to them, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,

‘This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;

in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

Then he called the crowd again and said to them, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”

“What are you going to do about Jane? Do you have a plan to deal with her?”  The new Altar Guild director had been in place for just a couple of days when she was confronted by 3 members who asked her this question.  She knew why they were asking. She knew what they wanted. Jane was the head of the funeral service team.  A lady of advanced years whose memory and abilities to get around were not what they used to be. Things were falling through the cracks. They wanted her gone.

pexels-farooq-khan-68262.jpg

Jane was also one of the kindest, gentlest souls God ever made.  Her husband had been an army officer and they had moved frequently. But where ever they lived, Jane faithfully appeared at an Episcopal Church and volunteered for the church’s Altar Guild. Her first Altar Guild experience was as a teenager helping her mother polish silver patens and iron linens. For seven decades after her quiet confidence inspired and instructed newer members.

Altar Guild is a special ministry in the church. I doubt there’s one more ritual-centered than Altar Guild.  And a lot of rituals there are. So many that it would warm the heart of the most strident Pharisee. Altar Guild members prepare the church for worship before anyone arrives and cleans up after everyone leaves. They wash and dry, iron and polish often alone in the quiet of the sacristy.  It’s a ministry of people who say “yes” to service that is virtually devoid of praise or recognition. About the only time Altar Guild members are recognized is on that rare occasion when something does go wrong.

Now not always, and not here at St. Matthias, but somehow it is also a ministry where it is oh-so-easy to become Pharisee-like and focused on hands and forget the heart, focused on shiny chalices and pretty linens and forget the gift of bread and wine and presence.  Somehow the care of sacred objects of worship connotes a power and authority that goes to member’s heads so that the reason that we hold them sacred in the first place fades away. 

Funny how rituals get started. We continue to do things without knowing why we do them, but we do them because it’s what we learned and what everyone else has done before us. This is a key thought to keep in the back of our minds as we look at this gospel today.  So let’s hold that image of three people pointedly quizzing the new Altar Guild director about Jane.  We’ll come back to them later.

We’ve had several weeks of readings from John about the Eucharist where we see clearly how much we need Jesus for sustenance and for life itself, where we see who Jesus is and what he is all about. Now we’re back in Mark in the midst of conflict and controversy.  Suddenly Mark’s stories about healing have stopped for a minute and we have a debate focusing on the interpretation and practice of Judaism by Jesus and his followers. Ritual washing was one key part of a highly complex system of purity regulations.

And just before this gospel passage, we hear about Jesus healing and teaching in a place called Gennesaret.  Throngs of people longing for healing are crowding in on Jesus.  And all the sudden, a group of Pharisees appear. They’ve come quite a distance in the first century world – about 80 miles.  So they must be quite concerned about what this happening.  They’re there because they’ve heard this Jesus guy is teaching something unique and new, he’s creating a stir, throwing everything into chaos.  They’re wondering who are these people following him, who are all these people trying to get close to him believing that he can heal them if they can just touch the hem of his robe. 

So they make a difficult journey to see for themselves. In the midst of all these people longing for healing and all the joy and relief that goes with it, what do they focus on?  Jesus’ followers not following a ritual about purity. Not the great suffering or needs of the people but on whether or not they’ve washing their hands before eating.

Jesus does not back down or make nice. He calls them hypocrites. Jesus criticizes his opponents for substituting human traditions for divine commandments. Religious hypocrites, both then and now, are the most dangerous kind because they live lives pretending to be something they are not in order to deceive others and take advantage of them.  They publicly preach sacred teaching about the love of God and the truth of the gospel message while living private lives that reflect love of self and some version of truth that benefits only themselves.  As clean as the Pharisees hands were, they often used them to pick apart, and point and accuse.

The disciples are also confused.  In private, they ask Jesus exactly what he means, and Jesus is uncharacteristically clear: he tells them that the things we eat don’t enter our hearts, they enter our stomachs.  The food is used as needed to help our bodies function.  That does not spoil us or debase us or damage us in any way.  It is the things that come out of our hearts that are not of God, the things that are not based in love – those things are damaging to us.  They are damaging because they separate us from God and from one another.   

Rituals themselves are not an anathema to God.  Recent research suggests even simple rituals can help us alleviate grief, reduce anxiety and increase self-confidence – all good things that God wants for us. Basketball superstar Michael Jordan put on his North Carolina shorts underneath his Chicago Bulls shorts in every game; Curtis Martin of the New York Jets reads Psalm 91 before every game. And Wade Boggs, as third baseman for the Boston Red Sox, wrote the Hebrew word Chai (“living”) in the dirt before each at bat. Boggs was not Jewish. These superstitious sounding rituals enhanced their confidence in their abilities and increased their emotional stability under stress. It gave them a platform to take on a mindset of connection to their best selves and to their best possible contribution to something precious – a cause greater than themselves that would last long after they had left the field.

It’s up to each of us to look at our own rituals and practices and actions and ask ourselves if we, like the Pharisees, have misinterpreted what is important to God. It is good to have clean hands, cups and pots. But what really matters is the heart. Are our hearts far from God? Do we give more time to keeping a clean house than a clean heart? Today’s gospel is not about washing hands. It’s about washing hearts.

Have we fallen in with those very uncomfortable failings that Jesus lists: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. Of course we have. We all do. The good news is that, once we are self-aware, we can let them go and turn back to God who is waiting eagerly with outstretched love to welcome us.  What Jesus says today has nothing to do with washing hands, or cleanliness. Today’s gospel is not about washing hands. It’s about washing hearts.

Let’s go back to those Altar Guild members and their pointed question to the new director. She told them she did indeed have a plan for what to do about Jane.  “My plan,” she told them, “is to love her.  My plan is to cherish her and look out for her.  It’s true that things have to go smoothly and be set up correctly.  So my plan is to discreetly check on what she does and offer to support her.  And I invite you to do the same. I invite you to love her along with me.”  And they did. 

About a month later, Jane called the new director and said she was ready to step aside. She acknowledged with grace and dignity that leading the team was just too difficult for her. The director accepted her decision and asked her to share with her how the rituals of Altar Guild informed her faith, how she brought the divine to her work all these years. Without hesitating Jane said, “oh it was the prayer.” And she shared the prayer she prayed each time she came to the sacristy:

“Most gracious Father, who has called your child to serve in the preparation of your altar, so that it may be a suitable place for the offering of your body and blood, sanctify my life and consecrate my hands so that I may worthily handle these sacred gifts which are being offered to you.  As I handle holy things, grant that my whole life may be illuminated and blessed by you in whose honor I prepare them. 

“I pray for those who come to the table, who drink from the cup and eat from the paten that they may find real presence of Jesus Christ whose death was not the end but the beginning of life everlasting. 

“I pray that their lives may be transformed, their wounds healed, their strength renewed, their joy restored so that they may understand themselves to be God’s beloved creation. 

“I pray that this sacrament of bread of wine taken today may connect them through the love of God, the body of Christ and the strength of the Holy Spirit with all those who have help this cup who have accepted this bread today and will do so in the future, that we may all be one body by and through the one God who is mother and father to us all.”

Our default must always be love.  Amen. 

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost: Imitators of God

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Ephesians 4:25-5:2

Putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil. Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labor and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy. Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

We are told in Acts that Paul spent the lengthiest part of his ministry in Ephesus.  Why was that?  It helps to know something about Ephesus.  It was a huge, thriving port city.  It’s believed that it had about 250,000 people which was a very large city for its time. It was a center of many things. It attracted those who were wealthy and well-educated from all over the world. The façade of a well-stocked library from ancient times still stands imposingly in its center.

During Paul’s time there he was preaching and teaching and trying to create a very real and sure foundation for those who were trying to follow The Way of Jesus Christ.  And he had much to do. There was a Jewish population of followers of Jesus, gentile populations – some Greek and some from other origins - starting to follow Jesus. There was a deep cultural divide among those new believers of Jesus Christ who came from vastly different backgrounds and perspectives on faith and discipleship. And Paul’s task was to get them to figure out how to co-exist well together and believe well together and work well together.

So after Paul leaves Ephesus to establish other churches, a letter goes back to these fledgling followers of the church to help them remember all the things that Paul taught them.  We know how this is, don’t we?  Once the teacher leaves the room or the school year is over we might relax a little, maybe too much.  We might forget to go over those new lessons in our own minds. We need something to remind us. So a letter came to the Ephesians.

It’s really in 2 parts. The first 3 chapters are about unity. They’re still learning what it means to be followers of Christ together. They have to understand that now they are one body in Christ.  It doesn’t matter what path they were on before.  What’s important is being one body of believers now.  The key now is strength and resilience developed together.

The second half of the letter is devoted to understanding the virtues of being Christ-like. There’s a lot to understand about what this new faith calls them to do and be.  In the lesson we have today, if we could point to one portion of the letter that gives us a good summary of the entire letter, what we heard today is it: 

To be honest and not to tell lies or spread stories about others that are not true to promote a personal agenda. There’s only one shared agenda now. 

Not to take what does not belong to you but to work hard, appreciate what comes from that and share it with those who don’t have as much.

To avoid slander or anything that damages the reputation of someone else.

To avoid bitterness, not to resent the good fortune of others but to celebrate it with them.

Not to go to sleep with anger in your head and heart but to set it aside and take on a mindset of happiness and joy. 

All these things are to help us as people of God to live faithfully and live well with one another. It all gets summed up in one fantastic phrase: be imitators of God. 

That sounds so daunting. We think about our holy loving God and then we think of our own limitations and frailties. We think I can’t possibly measure up.  But that is the measuring stick for which we should always be striving: living well and peacefully with one another, building up the kingdom of God and not tearing it down. This is how we live Godly lives. Membership in the body of Christ gives us strength to do what is set before us.  Paul says “Let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another.”  We are to learn from each other, and help each other.

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One of the most extraordinary things that we as a community of Christian believers share together has happened right here this morning. Recognizing the power and presence of the Holy Spirit, we have baptized two precious children, Oliver and Oliana. We have prayed for them, for their families and for all of us asking that God be continually present and active in their lives and help us all be nurturing supporters of that Godly presence. Every part of their life as children of God – loved, strengthened and forgiven – has begun this morning within their community of faith. 

Baptism is something more. It is the beginning of their vocation to the ministry that we all share. It takes time to unfold but it surely starts today. There’s nothing that more clearly builds up the kingdom of God than the sacrament of baptism.

And I don’t think there’s a better way to engage with what Paul is talking about than in our baptismal vows.  All the things we need to do to be imitators of God are right there:

Will you continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers?

Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?

Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?

Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

Even the writers of our liturgy understand how daunting this is.  Because our answer to each one is “I will, with God’s help.” 

Brian and Nitza, today the Holy Spirit is here as we welcome your children whole-heartedly into the community of faith with all its blessings to give and receive, all the joys and frustrations, all it’s celebrations and all its hard work to do, all its love to receive and all its love to give. 

The cross to seal their blessing and sending inscribed on their foreheads is going to be more and more important to them as they grow.  Right now you are with them always – you all or their grandparents, aunties, uncles and big sister. You are with them to protect them and provide everything they need.  But they won’t always be this little. They’ll grow up and start to spend more time away from those who have always looked out for their best interests. They’ll be on their own out in the world. 

But they’ll always have that cross of sanctification, of belonging. It will always be there right up front and going out before them. They’ll always have the Holy Spirit to call on for guidance and care wherever they are, whatever they do as they, too, build up the Kingdom as imitators of God.  They will with God’s help.

Whenever they, like all of us, are about to be tempted by the things that separate us from God, tempted to ignore the brother or sister that needs us, tempted not to respond in love, we remember that as imitators of God we show love first, we commit ourselves to walking this journey together and we allow the world to see that the likeness and image of God lives in each of us first and foremost and always. Amen.

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost: The Loaves & Fishes

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

John 6:1-21

Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?”

Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”

When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.

As this summer continues, many of us are traveling and some by air. This gospel reminded me that there’s actually something known as The Fishes and Loaves Prayer in, of all places, the airline business. At least there used to be back in the days when airlines served meals. At busy hubs, a plane would come in for a quick turnaround -- 40 minutes to get all the incoming passengers and bags off, clean the plane, get the departing passengers and bags on before they “pulled the blocks.”  This 40 minutes also included changing the galley – taking off the old food service items and loading the meals, beverages and supplies for the next leg.

So as soon as all the arriving passengers were off, the crew for the departing flight would rush on to get things set up.  For the crew member with the lowest seniority, this meant checking out the galley and counting the meals. Those little ceramic dishes with over-processed chicken were loaded in oven racks and cold boxes. You had to count them. Adding up the numbers in each rack you’d come up with something like 102. Except you know there are 112 seats on the plane. And the flight is full.  The catering truck is gone. Your only hope is prayer.

And so The Fishes and Loaves Prayer begins. “Oh dear God, PLEASE let this be enough to get through this flight.” The purpose of the prayer is 2-fold. Of course you want everyone to have a meal and enjoy their flight experience.  But you also don’t want to have to go to those passengers in rows 23 and 24 and tell them you have nothing for them.  You might even check the ovens and cold boxes again to see if anything has changed, but it hasn’t. Because you’re not Jesus. There will be no miracle of another 10 dishes of lasagna.

The gospel story today is one of the best known of all the miracle stories that we hear. It was so important to the understanding of God through Jesus that it appears in all four of the gospels. There are only two miracle stories that we see reported in each of the gospels. The other is the resurrection. I think this gives a good idea of how important it was to ancient people and how timeless it is.  Today we get to hear the one from John.

I’m pretty sure that no one here is hearing it for the first time. Maybe you’ve heard it many times through the years of your life. Maybe the first time was as a child in Sunday school or from your parents or grandparents.  I wonder if you can think back to the first time that you might have heard it.  Your reaction was likely, “How did he do that?”  “How did that happen?”  It’s magic!  As little ones, the idea of magic is exciting to us. We’re totally on board with magical thinking. If we’re lucky we had someone explain to us the difference between magic and divinity. God’s power is no trick. God’s power is life and life-giving. Hopefully someone pointed to the stars or your own little wiggly fingers and toes and explained the difference.

Then we get older. And our faith matures. But we also get saturated in the way the secular world works and looks at things. We’ve had to navigate through that world and meet its challenges. Magic doesn’t have the same attraction for us. We might still be very entertained by it but now we’re looking elsewhere for answers and explanations.  And as we go through our options, the divine power of God doesn’t always come up at the top of our list.  We’ve become uneasy with the idea of God’s power and Jesus’ divinity. We’d like to be comfortable with them but we’re always reaching for back-up from a source with which we’re more comfortable like science or our own ability to accomplish tasks.

Over the years there have been attempts to explain the stories about Jesus feeding massive numbers of people in a way that satisfies us. Those attempts go something like this: when the people sat down, Jesus blessed the small amount of food that they had and asked the disciples to distribute it to the crowd. They were moved by what they saw. They knew that Jesus was an extraordinary healer and teacher but now they see his compassion and generosity. So they are inspired to do the same. They begin to reach into their pockets and take out bread that they had been secretly saving for themselves.  And they shared it with one another. At the end, because so many had shared what they had, there were 12 baskets of pieces left over. So, this explanation concludes, isn’t that just as miraculous?

Well, no. It isn’t. Such explanations satisfy our drive to understand on our own human and secular terms what happened and how it happened. It reflects some of the personal qualities of Jesus. No doubt he was generous and compassionate.  He was surely charismatic and was able to inspire those around him to be their best selves. Sharing what you had with others was a principle tenet of the church then as it is now. All those things may be true -- but it only gives us a watered-down view of what Jesus was and why he was here.

The idea that there was an abundance of food because of massive amounts of sharing rather than an actual miracle of God through God’s son doesn’t jive with the fact that this story is told in each gospel and twice in some. It has too great a role for that. So if we try to explain it away as a nice story of sharing, we do ourselves a disservice.  Even harm.  We separate ourselves from a sense of awe and wonder and respect for the power of God to do miraculous things in the world, miraculous things for us and miraculous things through us. We lose the chance to live with mystery.  And we are poorer for it.

Who can blame us for wanting to take the practical way? We understand where Andrew and Philip are coming from. If Jesus would just let us know how to take that little amount of food and multiply it to feed thousands, we could feed all the poor. We could close down the Soup Hour because everyone would be fed. Pat ourselves on the back and declare “job well done.”  If God would just give us the directions, give us the words, give us the actions to be able to do this, we would be able to do what Jesus did.

But logistics are not God’s focus. What matters is what this account teaches us the truth of the powerful divinity of God and Jesus, about the divine nature of Jesus as God on earth.

This story doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Jesus, the teacher, knew people needed to experience God’s truth as well as hear it. They needed to be filled up with experience of what life with God’s truth was all about and the truth about what it truly meant to be his disciples.

Then, like the good teacher he was, Jesus gave them a glimpse of what he was talking about. He fed their spirits and their bodies. He fed them with real food. One of the distinctions in John’s version of this miracle story is that Jesus himself distributes the bread to everyone in the crowd.  He gave them himself preparing them for the time when they would carry on after he was gone.

So, what about us? And what are we doing to feed people with more than physical food? Jesus is saying to us, “What are you going to do so these people can eat?”  

We are asked to cherish the words of scriptures, examine our lives and take seriously our response to God’s invitation into things we understand and into the mysteries we don’t. But to relax into them just the same. Our lives are bound up with the whole people of God – all of us sitting in a grassy field together. So, in the end we have been given the directions, the words, and the actions to do what Jesus did.  We are the inheritors of the apostles’ ministry.

We have abundant examples of the sort of feeding others by which lives are sustained and enhanced. One that always resonates with me of a tiny nun named Agnes in 1946 came face to face with massive crowds of people in Calcutta who were suffering and dying.  She experienced what she heard as a “call within a call” which was to serve a discreet group - those who were suffering the most. Certainly Mother Teresa, as she came to be known, did not have an abundance of knowledge, money or wisdom to take on this work. She did have plenty of Andrews and Philips telling her that she couldn’t take care of so many people and anything she did would just be a drop in the bucket, so why even try?  But she did have a firm belief that God would accompany her and support her as long as she was serving God’s own children.

Hers is a big story of on-going miracles. We’re not all called to big stories. God can take any small offering that we make – a kind word, a brief visit, a quick apology, a short thank you note or an email, a smile with our eyes from behind a mask – and multiply it.  

Jesus has given us enough food to be fully satisfied in body and spirit and to strengthen us as we continue his miraculous work. We only need to open our eyes to the richness of the word and sacrament and allow it to empower us in love and service to others. Amen.

 

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost: Prophets

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Amos 7:7-15

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This is what the Lord God showed me: the Lord was standing beside a wall built with a plumb line, with a plumb line in his hand. And the Lord said to me, “Amos, what do you see?” And I said, “A plumb line.” Then the Lord said,

“See, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel; I will never again pass them by;

the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate,
and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste,
and I will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword.”

Then Amaziah, the priest of Bethel, sent to King Jeroboam of Israel, saying, "Amos has conspired against you in the very centre of the house of Israel; the land is not able to bear all his words. For thus Amos has said,

'Jeroboam shall die by the sword,
and Israel must go into exile
away from his land.' "

And Amaziah said to Amos, "O seer, go, flee away to the land of Judah, earn your bread there, and prophesy there; but never again prophesy at Bethel, for it is the king’s sanctuary, and it is a temple of the kingdom."

Then Amos answered Amaziah, "I am no prophet, nor a prophet’s son; but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycomore trees, and the Lord took me from following the flock, and the Lord said to me, 'Go, prophesy to my people Israel.'”

Mark 6:14-29

King Herod heard of Jesus and his disciples, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.

While I was in seminary and studying the Old Testament, Marcus Borg died. Dr. Borg was somewhat controversial but respected as a thoughtful theologian with a compelling story.  Part of his story was how the Book of Amos was critical to the building up of his faith.  And when he died there was quite a lot of press about this. So my professor thought it would be a fantastic idea for us to do some in-depth study of the Book of Amos. And he sent an email instructing us to do a verse-by-verse analysis of Amos which was due in three days. 

Now I have nothing against Amos and I actually love analyzing scripture. But I already had a mountain to climb of assigned readings and writing in 4 different classes, my work with my HR clients and work at my sending church. I was cranky about it. I simply didn’t have time for this. But it had to be done. So in the middle of the night I cracked open Amos which I’ll admit I was reading start to finish for the first time. And then, in the middle of the night, astounded and grateful. 

This prophet who lived 750 or so years before John and Jesus is a model for us in the 21st century.  In Amos’ time, the people were dismissing needy people because they could. They took advantage of the helpless. They oppressed the poor. Men were using and abusing women. Drunk on their own economic success and had lost the concept of caring for one another. In summary, the folks with power and authority with loud voices had found other gods to worship at the expense of those who had no voice.

Does this sound at all familiar?  If you took a look at the front page of the LA Times today or the news feed on your phone, my guess it that you’d recognize the same thing going on today.

And here comes Amos. A tree grower. Reluctant to speak up, not that holy, not that articulate. But so very brave. In reading the Book of Amos, I found a man who holds God’s people accountable for how they use their power and authority, who repeatedly points out how God’s people have turned away from justice. He calls out the privileged people of Israel who had no love for their neighbor, who took advantage of others, and who looked out only for their own concerns. 

Amos knows it’s risky to tell the King he’s going to die and that Israel will go into exile.  It’s treasonous.  But he does it anyway. He’s told to get out of town if he knows what’s good for him. What Amos replies is what resonates with us:  I’m not an important prophet or the son of one. I’m not qualified with any proper credentials. I was minding my own business when God grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and said “go talk to my people Israel.” There will be at least one person following God’s commands. And it’s Amos, who takes care of trees.

The work of a prophet in Israel was to remind those in positions of power that their authority was not unlimited, that God’s ways of justice would always overshadow anything that they meted out. God’s justice wasn’t always in line with what was most convenient of desirable for the king. 

And that brings us to John the Baptist who told the whole world to get ready for the coming of the kingdom of God, exhorting all who heard him to turn away from their sins and towards God.  John’s real vocation was simply as a truth teller. And the real theme here is not the drama of life and death, love and hate that so easily draws us in like a Netflix blockbuster. It’s the devastating tsunami of misuse of power and authority by a small group of people with political ambition and self-centered desires. It’s the unholy mix of Herod, a proud, self-serving king, an insecure and vengeful wife, a subservient daughter and the silent entourage around Herod.

Right away we hear that Herod is haunted by his command to murder John.  The ancients believed that when a person died in such manner, there was a power in his spirit that would come back stronger than it had been during his life to exact revenge. Herod feared that the power of John’s executed spirit had come back in Jesus.

We hear layer upon layer of one bad, self-centered act after another. And the complete absence of anyone within the circle of power and authority willing to say “no” or “stop” or “that’s wrong, I won’t participate in that.” 

Herod who did not have to arrest John. Or could have released him from prison,

Herodias who was angered by John’s stirring up public opinion against her.

The daughter who complied with her mother’s demand for the death of a holy man in exchange for some entertainment at a party.

Herod who worried about his reputation, so-called integrity and tenuous hold on his throne.

And a room full of party goers who sat by silently.

There was no one willing to speak the truth to authority, no one willing to say “no, that’s wrong. I won’t participate in that, I won’t be part of it.” John died because God was set aside. A true word in the mouth of an honest person, whether credentialed or not, can bring down evil power on earth; a true word can change the hearts of people. But there was no truth spoken that night in Herod’s palace. There was no Amos.

The good news is that all of us have some degree of power and authority.  It might not seem that way. We might feel like Amos – tending to our lives as he tended to Sycamores.  None of us are kings or high ranking government officials or the child of one. None of us has the power of life and death like Herod did. So we might consider ourselves relatively powerless in our own world.  But that’s not true. We have life-giving power of saying, “no, I won’t stand for it.” 

The challenge for us as the body of Christ is to look at our own decisions and ask ourselves whether the choices we are making are self-protecting or life-giving as part of God's transformation of the world. We have power to be forces of God’s love in virtually every situation.

One of the things the church has learned from this gospel story is that, like the Apostles, we’re given the charge — by our Baptismal Covenant — to share what we believe about God, and to live a certain way because we are Christians, and to share that way with others. It’s not always easy for us, either. Our lives are complicated.  We meet people who don’t believe the things we do. Risking rejection for speaking God’s truth of love, mercy and justice is hard.  But if we remember what we do each Sunday here together, that we’re made in God’s image and are loved and forgiven by God, that we are asked to do the loving thing, we are on solid, holy ground. 

Stephen Mitchell’s interpretation of Psalm 15 speaks to this:

Lord, who can be trusted with power, and who may act in your place?

Those with a passion for justice, who speak the truth from their hearts; who have let go of selfish interests and grown beyond their own lives; who see the wretched as their family and the poor as their flesh and blood.

They alone are impartial and worthy of the people’s trust.

Their compassion lights up the whole earth, and their kindness endures forever.

Amen.

The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost: Jesus Calms the Storm

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Mark 4:35-41

When evening had come, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

Fr. Bill is on vacation today. I don’t want you to miss him too much, so I’ll start with a little story that I think he’d approve of:

While fishing off the Florida coast, a tourist capsized his boat. He could swim, but his fear of alligators kept him clinging to the overturned craft. Spotting a local on the beach, the tourist shouted: “Are there any gators around here?!”

“No,” the man hollered back, “they haven’t been around for years!” Feeling safe, the tourist started swimming leisurely toward the shore. About halfway there he asked the local guy: “How did you get rid of the gators?”

“We didn’t do anything,” the local said. “The sharks got ’em."

Now that’s fear.  And fear is what we’re talking about today.

There’s a little bit of Jeopardy to the gospel today. You know in Jeopardy you’re given the answer and then you have to come up with the question. Today we have the answer from Jesus to the question “do you not care about us” that the disciples in great fear ask of him.  

There’s a story that Fr. James Martin shares about a young pilgrim visiting the Holy Land for the first time. He tells his friends that the most moving part of the journey was see the Ancient Galilee Boat. Of all the sites that he visited – Gethsemane, the Church of the Nativity, or the Mount of the Beatitudes – it was Yigal Allon Museum on a kibbutz to see the well-preserved remains of a fishing boat. Seeing this boat gave the young pilgrim more insight into Jesus’ teaching and his own faith than anything else.

In 1986 there was a drought that lowered the level of the Sea of Galilee exposing the remains of a fishing boat dating from the time of Jesus. It was carefully removed from the mud and now sits in a museum, gently supported by metal struts. The dark wood vessel shows evidence of many repairs. There are 12 different types of wood, some of which were salvaged from other boats leading experts to believe it had a long work life with an owner of limited financial means. Its interior size, 27 feet by 7 feet, suggests that this is the type of boat referred to in this gospel – just enough room for 13 people with Jesus able to find a place to sleep.

Most of us have heard this gospel story before. When we get accustomed to gospel stories they become predictable. But just for a moment, place yourself on one of the narrow wood benches of the boat in the dark being thrown up and down, back and forth with the disciples. And it all goes quiet. You might find Jesus’ power is stunning you as it did them.

It’s not the miracle of the sudden calm that frightens them – but what it meant.  Controlling nature was God’s work.  The creation stories that they knew well told of God dividing the waters, separating dry land from seas, exerting power over the chaos of nature. So their fear of drowning suddenly became awe of God’s power so near to them, sitting in the same boat with them. They’re asking “who is this guy?’ but the answer is clear.

It’s important to note that Jesus never says there’s nothing to be afraid of. The Galilean storm was something very much to be afraid of just as the winds and waves in our lives are frightening to us. The hard truth is that frightening things are very real.  We’ve just been through months and months of fear because of a horrible virus.  Even with relief from that immediate threat, there are frightening things for us, for our families, for those we love and care about. I know there are things that you fear. 

But as we grow in faith we come to understand that even though frightening things are very real, they do not have the last word. They do not have ultimate power over us.

Time and again in scripture the word is “do not be afraid.”  It’s actually the first and the last word of the gospel.  It is the words that angels speak to the terrified shepherds and the words spoken at the tomb when the women discover that it’s empty. “Do not be afraid.” Not because there are no frightening things in our lives, not because there are no storms or fierce winds or high waves but because God is stronger than anything and everything that shows up in our lives.

Fear comes when our lives change in such a way that we lose certainty and we lose routine. We crave certainty, the knowledge that there are things in our lives we can always count on. Our family is safe and with us, our home is secure, our job is okay. In the absence of certainty, we fill in the blanks. Like our tourist friend, we fear there is an alligator in the water coming for us.

And most of us crave routine. “We’ve always done it that way” is not just the unofficial Episcopal church motto. It gives us a feeling of security in all aspects of our lives.  We take comfort going through our lives in a routine way. Without certainty and routine we risk feeling threatened and afraid. That’s when we start asking God questions. “Don’t you care? I’m really suffering here or my child is, or my spouse is. Don’t you care what’s happening to me? I’m in crisis here! Everything I was sure of is disappearing. Don’t you care?” 

The answer is in that little fishing boat.

Jesus says, “Let’s go across to the other side.”  Let’s go across. This is our Jeopardy answer.  Jesus does not say “I’m going across, you all catch up when you can.”  He doesn’t say “You’re on your own. Maybe I’ll see you later.”  He says let’s go across together. I’m in this boat with you. I’m in this boat with you through whatever happens out on the lake. I’m in charge and I’m here.

We frequently see Jesus in liminal or in between places in scripture, where life and death are very near to one another – the graveyard with the demoniac, at the bedside of Jairus’ daughter, with Mary and Martha at the tomb of Lazarus, at the stoning of the woman accused of adultery.  And of course on the cross at the end of his earthly life making sure his mother is cared for and asking God to forgive those who put him there. We have every reason to believe that we will be present with us in our in between spaces.

God does care about us. So much so that he sent Jesus to live with us, to call us his brothers and sisters, to teach us to love each other, to heal us and then finally to suffer, die and come to life for us.

Jesus doesn’t bring the calm. Jesus is not separate from the calm. Jesus IS the calm. No matter what stormy sea we are on, when we, in our fear and anger lash out, his answer is always the same. “Let’s go together.”  Trust me. Believe in me. I am the calm.

Amen.

The Sixth Sunday of Easter: “I Have Called You Friends."

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

John 15:9-17

Jesus said to his disciples, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

We have a wonderful gospel today about friendship and how the ways in which we love our friends reflects the divine love of God and Jesus.

There is a near-magical phenomenon that we sometimes experience in our relationships when we move from being strangers to best friends. Once in a while, we meet someone and we connect with them so quickly and so deeply that we can’t believe we only just met them. We have so much in common with them and we love being around them. Everything they say we think “oh yeah, I know just what you mean.” If we’re away from them even for a very long time when we come back together, we just pick right up where we left off without missing a beat.  I hope you’ve made friends this way, I hope this has happened to you. We are better version of ourselves with them than without them. They are our “brother from another mother” or maybe even the great love of our life. But forever a dear friend.

Psychologists actually have a term for this. It’s called “click phenomenon.” They have found that, when people are asked to describe their best friends, many respond that they knew they would be best friends with the person from the moment they first met. They just click. That’s how pure and complete their connection was.  Real friendship between two people involves a certain drawing to each other, a kinship in spirit, a willingness to spend ourselves for the other without counting the cost. It also means that we are ready to risk something very precious, even life itself, to save that friend. 

It is natural that God the Father should love Jesus, God’s own son. They share divinity. They are perfect in their union. God and Jesus are of one being. We could say that they click. So it’s not surprising to us that they share a great love, that love abides with them and holds them.  And it’s that love that Jesus chooses when talking about his love for his disciples. Jesus illustrates to his closest friends, his click friends, the depth of his love for them by likening it to the love relationship that he has with God. That’s extraordinary!  We are not always that loveable. We have goodness about us but also wounds and warts. We are not divine beings on a level with God and with Jesus. Even so, for some completely inexplicable reason, Jesus finds something so loveable in us that he himself can find no way to explain it except by likening it to the love of God’s own heart for him.

There are no sheep here, no seeds or wheat metaphors as we so often here from Jesus.  This is direct and clear – Jesus loves us with the same depth and intensity that God loves him.  He clicks with us in every way. What an incredible gift to know that we have such a deep abiding love with Jesus. We’ve had some interesting discussions about our understanding of abide. But I think in the end it simply means to stay. To stay in God’s love and presence and, like a vine, be nourished by the branch that it comes from, that gave it life and nurtures it continually. 

Along with great love comes something else - great responsibility.  Love so powerful and extraordinary cannot be limited to a mere thing, a simple noun in our vocabulary. Love is an action word.  Love beckons us to action. Doing the loving thing is the way in which friends of Jesus live and move in the world.   

We might even trace Jesus’ journey through his years of ministry by his actions of love, the moments of joy that he left in the wake of his love: the water that became wine, the blind who gained their sight, the woman whose years of bleeding stopped, Jairus’ daughter healed, Lazarus raised from the dead.  Where he went, wounds were healed and diseases cured, shadows were lifted and bodies and minds were restored to health and strength. Certainly for Jesus love meant action and also risk. Letting go of comfort and safety so that someone else might have comfort and be less deprived.

What about us? What do our words and actions say to others about who they are? Deborah Meister asks us, “Do they say, "Move over; get out of my way?" Or do they say, "You are precious to me, so beautiful that I am willing to offer my time, my care, and myself, so that you may flourish, too?"   

Sam and Gina know something about that. Gina suffered from a terrible disease in her twenties that damaged her kidneys. It wasn’t long until one was completely gone and the other barely working. Her husband Sam was willing to risks his own health by giving her one of his kidneys. But it wasn’t a match with Gina. She was placed on the list for a kidney transplant joining 20,000 other Californians who were also waiting.

Photo from Pexels

Photo from Pexels

Gina’s nephrologist, weary of seeing his patients die waiting for a suitable donor kidney, had a brilliant idea – a kidney chain.  Several pairs like Sam and Gina were located one with a kidney to offer and one needing a kidney to survive. And it worked like this:  Sam would donate his kidney to someone who needed one and with whom he was a match.  When Sam donated his kidney to a man in San Jose, that man’s wife donated a kidney to man in New York, whose brother donated a kidney to a woman in Chicago whose husband donated a kidney to woman in San Diego whose cousin donated a kidney.  This continued until finally Gina received a donated kidney that was a fit for her. And the cycle of donation and recipients was complete. All in all in this chain there were 12 people who donated a life-saving organ and 12 who received one.

What’s especially extraordinary about this series of giving and receiving life was that all these people were strangers to each other. And each link of the chain was made strictly from a promise. They each promised to give and promised to receive. It’s not legal to have a contract for organ donation. There was no court to enforce an agreement. The chain of giving and receiving could have been broken at any time by someone who became fearful or self-centered.  There was only love with great risk which resulted in incredible joy.

We are asked to take great risks to bear fruit that will last. For Sam and Gina that was the birth of their daughter, seeing her graduate from college and fulfill her dream of becoming an educator. And they are just one link on the chain, one vine of God’s powerful branch in which we abide. What other incredible fruit there must have been from the other links.

The most important aspect of our Christian living is not the work we do but the relationships we maintain and the qualities or fruit that come from them. As Jesus laid down his life for those he loved, he asked us to give our attention to growing abundantly in God’s love, astounding others with our Christ-centered way of life and loving others as we have been loved.  Amen.

The Fourth Sunday of Easter: The Good Shepherd

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Psalm 23

The Good Shepherd, 19th century Russian icon, public domain

The Good Shepherd, 19th century Russian icon, public domain

1 The Lord is my shepherd; *
I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures *
and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul *
and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

4 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.

5 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.

6 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.

John 10:11-18

Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

It’s time for one of the cherished traditions in our culture especially in Southern California. It’s Oscars night!  And the excitement about that reminded me of a movie that speaks of the good shepherd. It’s The Book of Eli. And it’s truly a story of struggle of good versus evil. It takes place thirty years after a nuclear war.  There are few people left on earth and fewer books. So virtually everyone under the age of thirty is illiterate. They live desperate lives in a desolate landscape.  Food and water are scarce but violence they have in abundance.

And early on we meet Eli, a man who has a treasure that he must protect - the very last Bible in existence. Eli’s mandate from God to keep it safe by taking it “west.” For what exact purpose or outcome he doesn’t know but he understands and is committed to being the shepherd of this treasure and he is committed to following this command. 

Survival is especially hard for women and Eli becomes the protector of a young companion along the way. Like most people born after the war she has no connection to books. She asks Eli, “Do you read the same book every day?”  “Yes,” he says, “without fail.”  She’s curious what about this book is so compelling and wants to hear more.  “Read something to me.” she says. But Eli closes the Bible and recites from memory the 23rd Psalm.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. He revives my soul and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for you are with me.”

Imagine being someone whose life is in danger, whose very survival from one day to the next is in doubt and hearing these words for the first time.  It’s no wonder she says to him “that’s beautiful.”

The 23rd Psalm tells her everything she needs to know about the life and work, the goodness of Jesus Christ on this earth

Jesus wants us to understand who he is. He doesn’t just say I am the shepherd but that I am the good shepherd.  Those who heard him would have understood that he was emphasizing qualities of goodness. 

A real shepherd was born to his task.  He was sent out with the flock as soon as he was old enough to go; he grew into the calling of being a shepherd; the sheep became his companions and it became second nature to him to think of them before he thought of himself. To a real shepherd, a good shepherd, it was the most natural thing in the world to give his life for his flock. So more than just tending a flock in good times when it was easy as a hired hand would, a good shepherd had to get between the sheep and anything that threatened them and the good shepherd was glad to do it never backing away from any threat. 

The Greek word for “good” in this scripture is kalos. And kalos is good in the moral and ethical sense but it’s more than that – its goodness with a refined quality of beauty and loveliness that is joyful and childlike with a delight that draws us in. This goodness in our good shepherd remind us that we belong.  Knowing what we know about Jesus role, we understand better our own role.  We belong – to the one flock loved and protected by the one shepherd.  Together we listen to the one voice and it is so compelling that we are called to take on those qualities and share them with others.  We are called, quite simply by our Good Shepherd to do the loving thing. 

This lesson comes to us soon after Jesus’ resurrection, before his ascension and before the disciples begin the intense work of spreading the gospel message. Life is going to get very hard for them.  Many of them will be very far from home and the people and places and customs they know.  They will be among those other sheep that are not of this fold – the ones that Jesus says you may not recognize them but they are mine. Tradition tells us that James preached in Spain, Thomas established the church in India, Nathanael in Armenia and Matthias in Cappadocia. Great difficulties are ahead for them. But they are about the go to these people to teach and preach and heal and demonstrate that God’s heart is so big that there is plenty of room for all people at all times.

During Holy Week and especially on Good Friday we had a reminder of why we so clearly need the words of the 23rd Psalm and the presence of the good shepherd. The Psalm just before, the 22nd Psalm starts with the words of Jesus as he was suffering on the cross, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?”  Why are you so far away?  Because there the wide range of our human experience and our emotions from great joy and happiness and contentment to the other end of that scale when we are we are tired, when we are afraid, when we are unsure, when God feels so far away from us. We need the words of Psalm 23 to remind us that God is indeed right there and that in God there is safety and protection and intense love for us.

It is a truth that we are surrounded every day by shrill voices.  All these other voices competing for our attention do not really want to know us. They can’t possibly know us.  It makes us want to cry out “Lord, you have spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me! Just for one second of one minute, can you please shut out all the competing voices, interests, merchants, politicians, and commentators for just a few minutes of silence? Lord, can you please still the waters, can you please make me lie down in green pastures, can your rod and your staff please, Lord, comfort me, touch me, protect me, and heal me? Lord, please give me the time, the place, and the space to listen to you.”

 The one who says, “I am,” wants to know us.  The one who says “I am” also says, “I know my own, and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for my sheep.” For people of faith, for people of the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Ruth, Mary and Jesus, those are the two words we need to hear: “I am.” In fact, the one who says, “I am,” already knows us just as the Father knows him.  And if we are paying attention at all, we will stop, and listen for the Good Shepherd – the Beautiful One.

Let’s go back to the movie for just a moment. I won’t spoil the story of Eli’s journey but he offers a prayer at the end the so perfectly show the experience of the Good Shepherd. “Thank you for giving me the strength and conviction to carry out the task given to me. Thank you for guiding me straight and true through the many obstacles in my path and for keeping me resolute when all around seemed lost. Thank you for your protection and the many signs along the way. Thank you for any good I might have done.  I’m sorry about the bad.  Thank you for finally allowing me to rest. I’m so very tired. But I go now in peace knowing that I have done right with my time on this earth. I fought the good fight. I finished the race. I kept the faith.” 

Amen.

 

 

The Second Sunday of Easter: Doubting Thomas

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

John 20:19-31 (NRSV)

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."

Doubting Thomas - Giovanni Serodine, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Doubting Thomas - Giovanni Serodine, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

“I’ve always been a reluctant believer.”  This is what a hospice patient told me during one of our visits. He said it softly and slowly, as though to give it oxygen would be to give it a life of its own that he couldn’t take back. He didn’t make eye contact. I was very surprised to hear this. This man was a retired priest, with a long life of compassionate service to others. He was a passionate advocate for the poor and homeless populations where he lived.  He regularly received cards from former parishioners thanking him for the impact he’d had on their lives. I couldn’t imagine anyone ne less likely to have doubts than him. Now as he was suffering from a disease for which there would be no cure.  And he was wondering – not for the first time - whether he could truly believe the resurrection promise.  

He’s like Thomas in the room with the disciples hearing that Jesus has been there, has given them the Holy Spirit but still asking himself whether the good news is too good to be true. Is the resurrection of Jesus something we can be certain of and rely on for our own eternal life journey?

What Thomas is really after is an experience of truth.  We don’t know where he was or why he wasn’t there when Jesus appeared to the disciples. But when he did return to them he wasn’t willing to accept as truth what they told him.  He needed the same experience of Jesus that they had – and more. 

If we think about it, the desire for truth winds all throughout the gospels. And the stories of Holy Week and Good Friday put an especially fine point on it. Friday morning Jesus’ trial before Pilate is a mockery of justice.  Pilate questions Jesus and he seems disdainful of the whole situation. “YOU are the King of the Jews?” he asks Jesus. The Jewish authorities are hostile to Jesus more concerned with their own survival and with no legitimate charge against him. Pilate would prefer not to be bothered by this Jewish disturbance.  He can’t figure out who Jesus is or why he’s even there. 

Pilate’s parting question to Jesus, “what is truth?” hangs in the air. The irony was that Truth was standing right before him but he could not see it.  What blocks our seeing truth can be our agendas based in fear, powerful narratives and anecdotes that we can’t overcome on our own.  Many of us grew up with a narrative that doubt is sinful, that questioning shows an absence of belief and that belief alone that God wants from us. If we think of belief as what God wants from us then doubt and disbelief are experienced as sinful. So if we have doubt like Thomas’ did it is seen as an absence of faith.

But let’s look at what Jesus did for Thomas in his moment of disbelief. He came to him and offered him what he needed. He offered Thomas something denied to Mary and others. He asked Thomas to touch him so he could have his truth. And in this moment a sweet promise is made: God who knows our needs will meet us precisely at the point of our need. God who knows our hearts and minds and the condition of our need will be there for us as we continue to seek and continue to demonstrate a need for God’s presence.  

The gospel tells us that a week later his disciples were again in the house and Thomas was with them.  Despite his unbelief Thomas still gathers with them, still wants to be part of this group. And in the other disciples we see a second beautiful lesson of Christian friendship.  It always has room for everyone, especially the doubters.  They clearly welcome him. We hear nothing about their shunning him, or gossiping him.  The disciples embody this sort of friendship. Jesus had done exactly the same for them.  They loved Thomas as Jesus loved them. 

Please know this: if you have doubts you’re in the right place. We get it. In this church you are welcome. We are together to support and lift each other up. That’s what true faith communities do and that’s what we do.  You will never be minimized and told that your faith isn’t strong enough. You will never be excluded for having questions.  You will be welcomed.  We will sit with you, struggle with you.      

Can we put our fingers in Jesus’ side and touch him?  No.  But can the stories of the resurrection experience make us feel as if we can?  Yes, if we open our hearts to them.  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe. The story is alive because even a modest beginning of belief is all the Holy Spirit needs to make Jesus come alive for us, in us and through us to others.  These stories we feel breathe on us the same way Jesus breathed on the disciples. They have the power to make us weep, rejoice, hope and act.  

We believe not because we have seen his wounds or placed our hands within his side, but because we have seen Christ in the face of another, who has also not seen or touched Christ, but lives their life in such a way that Christ has been made present in our midst. It is in gathering together in loving relationships that Christ is made known and the experience of truth is ours. We are made to make a difference to be part of Jesus risen life on earth so that we may proclaim to all we encounter “we have seen the Lord” and have life in his name. 

Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed! And so are we. Alleluia and Amen.

The Fifth Sunday in Lent: To See Jesus

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

“Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

—John 12:20-33 (NRSV)

pexels-irina-iriser-881617.jpg

It has been about a year since the world changed so profoundly. Even if our lives have stayed relatively safe and stable, current news and the social unrest of this past year have probably left us with the same request as the Greeks who approach Phillip in today’s gospel: “We wish to see Jesus.”

I had a wonderful New Testament professor in seminary named Greg Riley. I can’t say enough about him. He had encyclopedic knowledge and was an extraordinary teacher. And what he taught us was that it wasn’t a coincidence that immediately after some Greek men came asking to see Jesus that he told his disciples that his earthly ministry was ending.  The Greeks were a special people who were known to be seekers, who sought out wise men and wanted to learn from them.  And there was something else about them. They traveled widely.  And so what Greek people learned they took with them and shared it wherever they went.

Isaiah prophesied that God would make Israel as a light to the nations that God’s salvation might reach to the ends of the earth. Jesus saw in these men as fulfillment of that prophesy and instruments of God.  And Jesus’ embodiment of God’s love, mercy, justice and compassion were now on a trajectory throughout the world. So this was the time, his time, God’s time. 

Jesus is troubled at the thought of this transition. But notice how quickly he sets those troubling thoughts aside. There is no night in the garden of Gethsemane here. The Jesus of the Gospel of John quickly discards the idea of appealing to God to let the cup pass from him.  He is confident of what will happen. Life comes from death. Fruit grows from seeds that die in the earth.

Knowing when it’s time - time to let go, time to move on, time to move forward - is a great challenge. What can this gospel teach us about letting our old stories die and turning away from the safe path?

Rachel Naomi Remen talks about a literal new path. She purchased a home that needed significant repairs both inside and out.  She had a choice about where to put the entrance to her home.  She could put in a sidewalk that lead straight from the street up to the front door.  Or she could create a path that wound around the side of her house, past an ancient oak and a spot where you could see an impressive view of the land behind her and then a few steps up to the door.    

She consulted with architects who told her she should definitely choose the first option. It’s a basic principle of architecture, they told her, that people need to see where they are going from the start. The winding path to her door would not be welcoming, especially to first time visitors. In spite of their advice, Rachel chose the curving way.  Thinking about it now, she says, knowing where we are going encourages us to stop seeing and hearing and allows us to fall into routine. No seed dies and no life begins.

But uncertainty of not knowing where we are going fosters a sense of aliveness and appreciation of what is around us. If you look back on some of the goals you’ve had and the paths you took to them, you might discover that the real goal your choices led you to was something entirely unexpected, something you didn’t even know existed when you started out.  Important decisions in our lives – especially that most haunting question about what is God’s purpose for each of us -- are often complicated and have competing interests. We sometimes go around in circles trying to push away fear or fantasy. 

I think we can take direction and strength from Jeremiah who says essentially that what really matters is relationship. Covenant with God and with one another means to simply love and live in the present moment, not holding on to a path that probably didn’t resemble what our memories have made of it anyway. 

The very reason we are born, our greatest blessing or our way to serve may come into our lives looking like a safe, predictable choice. But God may have a new truth for us that we can’t imagine for ourselves and can’t see if we stay on a safe path. 

Jesus is talking about a life of risk. We must be willing to die to self knowing that only by doing so will we have true, eternal life.  Those who see their lives as all important will ultimately lose them by separating themselves from God.  Only those who set aside the lives they’ve created in this world will have life in the next one. 

Are we willing to take a risk?  What would dying to our lives look like for each of us?  What would seeing Jesus be like?  He tells us but he speaks in metaphors.  We must die as a seed dies, that we must set aside our lives in this world with all the security and comfort that we have worked so hard to accumulate.

We are coming to the end of Lent.  The holiest week of the year begins next Sunday with Palm Sunday.  On that day we commemorate Jesus triumphant entry into Jerusalem and the Sunday after that we will celebrate his resurrection.  But the most amazing part is what happens in between.  They are those very events in which seeds of life are planted. These are the events that form the core of our faith, the times in which we can so clearly see Jesus, when we encounter him in the most exquisite experiences of God’s love for the world.

Until now, Jesus has been telling his disciples and many others that his time has not yet come. Until now.  Jesus who lived as one of us, suffered as one of us, loved as one of us, will lose his life. Jesus is preparing to make his way home and make a way for all of us as well so that our wish is granted and we will indeed see Jesus.  Amen.

The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany: What has Jesus to do with Us?

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Jesus and his disciples went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

—Mark 1:21-28 (NRSV)

The members of a small neighborhood church had gathered for the memorial service of a beloved church member. The priest who was officiating had only been there a couple weeks and was not yet familiar with members or their families. So when a man she didn’t know came up to the altar at the end of communion she thought he must be a friend of the family.

Suddenly he threw himself on the floor in front of the altar and began to sob uncontrollably. It was one of those moments that life just made an incredible pivot. The church was shocked. The priest was shocked. Even the men from the funeral home - who had probably seen it all - were shocked.  And he kept sobbing.  It was the kind of moment where you’re not sure if you should interrupt such grief or watch and honor it. 

After what seemed like a long time, two ushers gently helped him up and to the back of the church.    

This priest had never seen such profound grief and looked for him after the service. She found him in the parking lot with a few concerned parishioners. One of them handed her a note that he had pulled out of his pocket. It read. “My name is Martin. I live in Claremont. I don’t remember my name or where I live most of the time. If you are reading this, I am lost. Please call my wife Lucy. And it listed a number.

The police arrived and asked him what brought him to the church that day. It was a real mystery because he would have had to have walked many miles or taken a series of buses to get there. He told the police he came because he was looking for a woman named Patricia.  He asked each of the women in turn, “What’s your name? Are you Patricia?”  And finally he came to the priest whose name actually was Patricia although she goes by Pat.  “Hello” he said brightly, “I’ve been looking for you all my life.” Then calmly and quietly he got into the police car and they drove him home.

Pat and her parishioners were left wondering what was that?  What just happened?  Whatever the name Patricia meant to him he went on his way from there calm and collected – healed in some way. She had no explanation but she knows in the midst of a collected group of compassionate community, it happened. God’s care happened.

It’s like Jesus in our gospel story today. He shows up at the synagogue and begins to teach not by quoting prophets or Rabbi’s as the scribes did but from his heart about God with whom he is intimately connected.  This leaves them amazed. The encounter with the unclean spirit is sudden and unexpected.  His authority to dispatch it causes more than amazement. What a sight the healed and whole man must have been when the evil spirit left him. Jesus’ reputation as a healer increases exponentially. 

The healing ministry of Jesus is important in Mark.  A few interesting statistics: in Mark’s short gospel of just 16 chapters, there are more miracles than any other gospel. And of the 18 miracles recorded, 13 involve healing and 4 of those are exorcisms like we hear today.

Hearing this story, we are taken into a world that is far from our way of thinking. In the world when Jesus lived, belief in demons as actual beings was real. And terrifying.

I hear the voice of this unclean spirit as a taunting one, tightening its hold while denigrating Jesus.  “What have you to do with us?”  Like it’s saying, “I’ve been working this patch for a long time spreading pain among the vulnerable and the innocent, you whippersnapper. Who do you think you are?”  Faith healers were not uncommon at that time. This ugly spirit might have already faced down some pretenders to the kind of power that Jesus actually brought to bear.  And as all in the synagogue watch, Jesus knows where his power is from and that he brings relief through love and life to all – including those suffering under the weight of disease.  He doesn’t back down. He tells the spirit to be quiet and be gone. 

The unclean spirit’s obedience in effect recognizes that its power over people is ended. Jesus has indeed come to destroy the powers that threaten and demonize that which is more precious to God than any other bit of creation – God’s beloved children, each one of us. This is the second teaching of Jesus.  He and he alone has the authority to be at the head of God’s kingdom to say what will bless God’s children, to declare what will endure for them and what will not, what is goodness and what is love. And he demonstrates it with an act of compassion.

In our world of today, in which many forms of sickness are a growing and terrifying concern, these stories of Jesus’ command over sickness seem magical or bizarre to some. When it comes to conquering illness, our default setting is science and what can be accomplished in laboratories and surgical suites.

This morning I heard disturbing news: it is one year ago today that the first case of COVID was identified and diagnosed in the United States.  We all know what’s happened since.  Hundreds of thousands of people have suffered and died. I also received an email yesterday from a friend who is a chaplain in a large hospital who described what it’s like in a COVID ICU. She said that outside the door of each ICU rooms are the stands that are hung with bags of medications ready to try to bring healing. There isn’t much noise other than the sounds of machines as they cycle or the hurried footsteps of doctors, nurses and therapists moving quickly between the rooms. There are no visitors, no TV’s on, no conversation. It’s quiet. But there’s a lot going on.  There’s the compassionate presence of Jesus at work.

I remember in my own days as a hospital chaplain I came to understand that hospitals are like cathedrals. They are sacred space. There are as many prayers launched from hospitals as churches - from the staff, from the patients, from the families - calling on Jesus, asking for his presence and power to summon out the illness and dispatch it. And he is indeed there.  In every IV stand, every bag of medication, every bit of equipment embodies Jesus saying “be still and be gone.”  Every nurse and doctor bending over a patient and working with skill and wisdom is Jesus saying “be still and be gone.” Every chaplain sitting with a patient or talking on a cell phone with a family to calm them or read scripture to them is Jesus present and saying “be still and be gone.”  These are all moments of healing. It is Jesus’ presence in the most compassionate way through those called to the healing arts. 

The outcomes are not what we always want. We’ve all seen video of folks leaving the hospital after weeks or months of fighting this monster, in a wheelchair, a little weak but flashing a peace sign or giving a thumbs up. Not all outcomes are what we want. The body can’t always recover. And here I’m remembering our beloved friend Marilyn Summersett. It is then that Jesus is most present, is offering healing by holding them close and saying to the evil presence, “Be still and be gone. He’s with me now. She’s with me.” This is the ultimate healing that God through God’s son Jesus offers us. 

Nowhere does the flame of God’s love for us burn more fiercely than in the miracle stories. Nowhere do we see the depth and intensity of God’s compassion for us more clearly than in these stories of healing. God is with all who suffer in whatever ways that might be. God in Jesus steps right into our suffering and serves as a barrier of hope against despair. 

What if we ask that question of ourselves and each other, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” 

This question is like a door in this Epiphany season. We go through this door with his followers. In the gospel last week Peter, Andrew, James and John answered “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” by leaving everything behind and following him.  What are we willing to leave behind? Jesus, what do you mean to us?  Are you at the heart of everything that happens in our lives?  Does this question move us forward and invite us to consider who we are with our families, our friends with our God and one another, with strangers who wander into our lives. How does your teaching shape the way we live?  How does the demonstration of your compassion to those in need shape our response to the people and situations crying out in need of our response?

As we read through Mark’s gospel and especially this passage today I think we are on notice that God’s call to us in God’s boundary-breaking, law-transcending, demon-dispatching, and compassion-showing Son asks us for our continual amazement.  Amen.

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