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

November 16, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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.

All Saints Sunday

November 9, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

John 11:32-44

Lazarus Come Forth - Harold Copping (Public Domain)

When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?"

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me." When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go."

As you know I often start our talks with a joke. But today, All Saints Day, doesn’t feel like the right time for a joke. Instead, how about a very short little story? It’s a story that could be the whole sermon truthfully.

A nine-year-old child lived next door to an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,

‘Nothing, I just helped him cry.’

As a priest of some experience, I can tell you we do nothing more important in our lives than what that little boy did. We can sit with people that are hurting, and be there with them as they cry.

As I get older, I get softer and softer. It seems sometimes that I cry at everything. I cry at the end of books. I cry during movies. Wherever people are hurting I cry. Maybe they don’t know it, but I do.

Right now, I am thinking about the movie “Gladiator.” I am sure most of you have seen it. The ending gets me every time. I know it’s coming, but I just can’t stop myself. When Maximus lies dead on the floor of the coliseum the sister of the emperor says these words that ripple through me. I can hear her now.

“He was a soldier of Rome. Honor him.”

It gets me every time.

Or in “Field of Dreams”. That movie wasn’t five minutes old and I knew I was in trouble. The scene in which the son asks his long dead father to play catch with him moves me every time. It reminds me that I would give anything to play catch with my father once again. I am sure some of the folks here today would like to do that too, wouldn’t you? Or at least do something like it that means much to you.

Right now, I can see my grandmother sitting in the corner of her living room at the farm working a crossword puzzle. Oh, how much I would like to see her one more time, to hear her voice speaking to me. I’m positive you know what I mean. Maybe it moves you to a tear or two?

The gospel today is fascinating, isn’t it? Jesus and Lazarus have a date to do something special. Jesus is going to raise him from the dead. The fact that it actually happens overwhelms the rest of the story. In my book we overlook some really special things as a result of this fabulous miracle. Let me reread the part that echoes through my mind every time I think about the story.

“When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.

He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus began to weep.

We ask ourselves why was he weeping? He knew he could and would raise Lazarus from the dead, so he isn’t crying because Lazarus was gone. And so since he could resurrect Lazarus, he wasn’t crying for either himself or Lazarus. So why was he so deeply moved?

The obvious answer is that he was deeply moved by the pain being suffered around him, by Martha and Mary and the others who were crying. Their suffering moved him to tears. Jesus was crying for them, not for himself. He was feeling what they were feeling.

And then, out of his compassion, Jesus gave Martha and Mary their brother back. Their pain filled him and he returned their brother to them. Lazarus walked out of the grave and back into their lives.

Jesus cries with us, and not for himself. Jesus suffers as we suffer. He feels our pain deeply. Like the little boy in the story, he helps us cry. And, as you know, because of the resurrection, suffering isn’t the end of the story. Life goes on.

Today we celebrate All Saints Day. It’s the day we remember those that have gone before us. We are invited to think about our time with them. We are invited to cry a little bit in our loss and in their stories.

And it is also time to think about the future when because of Jesus, we will see them again. Just as Martha and Mary were reunited with Lazarus, we will be reunited with those that have gone before us. We will see them again. Think about that. What a joyous day that will be.

Why don’t we take a few moments to quietly think about that day? Who do you want to see? What would you like to say to them? Let’s take a few minutes in our imaginations to think about what is coming. I will let you know when it’s time to move on. So go in peace to be with those you love for a little while.

Thanksgiving in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen

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

November 4, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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.

The Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost: The Faith That Makes Us Well

November 4, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carolyn Estrada

Mark 10:46-52

Jesus and his disciples came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

Christ Giving Sight to Bartimaeus - William Blake

Jesus and his disciples accompanied by a large crowd are leaving Jericho.

Imagine the procession: the jostling and confusion, the banter, the calling back-and-forth among friends and acquaintances, the barking dogs, the dry dust of the road being kicked up as they walk along… and, on either side of the road, outside of the action, we find ourselves among the crowd of the lame, the halt, the blind. From a distance we can hear them coming, approaching closer and closer. We find our curiosity mounting, our excitement… We’re going to get to see him, this man we’ve heard so much about!

And then he’s here! Passing along the road between us!

Suddenly we hear Bartemaeus call out: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” and suddenly we find ourselves, too, joining in the cry, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

The words are out of our mouths before we know it.

Are we crying out out of fear? Afraid that we might be knocked over or trampled upon in the confusion? Spat upon?
Are we crying out out of desperation? Hoping for a bit of bread, perhaps, or a coin, if he has it to spare?
Are we crying out out of longing, a deep hunger for what they have, those “insiders” around Jesus, wanting some of – whatever it is they’ve got! – for ourselves?

The attention of the crowd around Jesus, inward focused, shifts, directs itself toward the beggar, towards us, and turns abusive: “Be quiet!” “Leave us alone!” “Let Jesus pass!” “Don’t bother him!”

Or, perhaps, those are our own inner voices we hear: “Why would God care?” “I’m not worthy.” “Why should Jesus bother with me?” “I should just be quiet. He probably doesn’t know I’m here anyway…”

But Bartemaeus – and, I hope, the beggar in all of us – persists: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And Jesus, hearing, stands still.

Imagine the quiet falling around him: the noises abating, conversation trailing off as people become attuned to Jesus’ stillness, the jostling of bodies and appendages slowing, coming to a rest, and, in the silence, the quiet attention of waiting to see what is going to happen.

Imagine Bartemaeus’ anticipation – excitement, surely, some hope – and fear as well, as he hears the shift in the atmosphere. How will Jesus respond? How will the crowd respond? Is it safe?!!

We have cried out to Jesus – “Have mercy on me!” and now – now, something is going to happen.

What?

From the midst of this stillness, Jesus tells his disciples: “Call him here.”

We have called.

Jesus responds with a call of his own: “Call him here.” “Call her here.” “Call them here.”

Now what?

Bartemaeus responds with alacrity: he sheds his cloak, leaps up, and runs to Jesus.

And we?

Do we hold back? Are we afraid to come? What might happen if we leave our spot at the side of the road? If we move from the periphery into the center of life around Jesus? Is it safe? Will we be able to find our way back to our familiar spot again? Will we get lost in the crowds and the confusion, in the unknown?

Are we embarrassed? Who might see us? What might people say? Will we be rejected by Jesus? By others?

Do we come tentatively?

Is there that part of us that says, “Oh, come on Jesus – you can show me mercy from there! Do I really have to step out of my comfort zone?!”

However we make our way, when we get to Jesus, he asks: “What do you want me to do for you?”

Ah, there’s our question – what we’ve been wanting to hear!

“What do you want me to do for you?”

Think of the possibilities!

Bread? A coin? Lots of coins?!!! World peace?!! A seat at the left or the right in glory?

Sit with that question for a few moments, hearing Jesus asking you, “What do you want me to do for you?” while we follow Bartemaeus’ for a few moments.

“Let me see again,” Bartemaeus requests.

And Jesus answers, “Go, your faith has made you well.”

Go, your faith has made you well.

And we are told that indeed Bartemaeus could see again.

But I’m not sure that the restoration of Bartemaeus’ sight is the important lesson here.

I’m not sure the lesson is even his cry for mercy which begins their encounter.

I think it’s Bartemaeus’ willingness to go to Jesus, to respond to Jesus’ call to come to him: to go to the center of that life around Jesus, to risk letting go of the security of where he was, and moving into the unknown, trusting the relationship that had called him.

The restoration of sight was a bonus that was part of a far greater healing: it was part of the transformation, the being-made-well, that comes from the relationship to which Jesus called him.

Bartemaeus is changed.

Jesus gives him sight – in his eyes, and in his heart.

Bartemaeus has no need to return to his beggar’s spot at the side of the road.

However, Bartemaeus doesn’t even return to the life he had before he became blind.

Scripture tells us that after his encounter with Jesus, he “followed him on the way.”

It isn’t just his sight that is changed; it is Bartemaeus himself.

His response is a reminder that Jesus is not in the business of restoration – casting a blessing by the side of the road to “fix” something so that one can resume life-as-before. Jesus is in the business of transformation.

Bartemaeus cannot go back to “life as usual” – because he is different.

And here we are, like Bartemaeus, calling upon God: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Have you been sitting with your response to Jesus’ question: “What do you want me to do for you?”

“What do you want me to do for you?”

We’ve all had times when, unbidden, we’ve TOLD Jesus what we want:

Heal my mother, daughter, sister, husband, friend…
Help my father stop drinking!
Keep my son safe…
Lift my depression…

Sometimes we’ve gone to the mat with Jesus, demanding, having what I often refer to as lapel-grabbing “chats” in which we’re quite clear about what we want.

And often what we want is “fix what’s wrong – but don’t muck around with the status quo!”

I don’t really want to be different – I just want things around me to be different!

And there’s a danger in hearing today’s text.

Too often we want to take Jesus’ words: “Your faith has made you well,” and use them as a litmus test for our own faith.

We place our order – and God complies.

Or, we think that’s what’s supposed to happen, if we’re a “Good Christian.” If we have sufficient faith.

If I ask Jesus for something, and I don’t get what I want, it’s easy to fall into a kind of balance-sheet thinking:

Has Jesus been listening?
Does it mean I don’t have faith?
Wasn’t I calling loudly enough?
Wasn’t I worthy?
Did I do something wrong? Am I being punished? Doesn’t God care?

We’re focused on “fix it” – on restoration, not transformation.

We hear “What do you want” and “let me see again” and think that Jesus is a kind of clerk in the Miracle Mail Order Business, a kind of middle-man, processing our request, filling our orders from the shelves of some heavenly warehouse.

We’re focused on the “doing what I ask” portion of the story.

Perhaps we might more appropriately be focused on the “doing what Jesus asks” portion.

“Call him to me.” “Call her to me.” “Call them to me.”

I believe the story hinges on Bartemaeus’ response to Jesus.

Jesus calls.

Bartemaeus comes.

Jesus calls.

We come.

Our eyesight may – or may not – be restored. Our eyes may not see again. But this I do know: in leaving the safety of our begging-spot by the side of the road, in letting go of the security of what we know, regardless of how diminished, and coming into the center of life with Jesus, the eyes of our heart are surely opened, and we are healed.

That “call response” is the faith that makes us well!

“Call him to me,” Jesus says.

And Bartemaeus comes.

“Call them to me,” Jesus says.

Can we come?

Can we move from where we are on the periphery of life with Jesus into the center of life in him?

Can we open ourselves to the transformation of that relationship?

For truly, Jesus wants us to be well.

Hear him saying today: “Call them to me.”

Call them to me.

Let us leap from our places, and come!

Amen.

The Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost: “What is it you want me to do for you?”

October 17, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Mark 10:35-45

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to Jesus and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”

When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

Jesus Discourses with His Disciples - James Tissot (Public Domain)

I heard a story about a person who has spent a lot of years working in corporations small, large, and massive. He has climbed the corporate ladder and has arrived at some rules for advancement that are invariably true. Here is one of those stories.

One day, a turkey was walking down the road. He looked up, and saw a raven sitting on the upper branches of a tree. He looked at the raven, and said, "Hey Raven... It must be nice to be all the way up there. I wish I could get up there too, but I'm just too tired".

The raven replied, "well, Mr. Turkey, there's some bologna on the ground right at the bottom of the tree that a child dropped when she didn’t finish her sandwich. It's got a tone of nutrients. Why don't you peck at that for a while and see if you get more energy?"

So, the turkey pecked at the bologna for a while, and with his strength up, was able to hop / fly up to one of the higher branches on the tree.

After a little while, a farmer came around. He saw the turkey sitting up in the top of the tree and took out a shotgun, and blasted the turkey and took him home for dinner.

What's the moral of our story? Bologna may get you to the top, but it won't keep you there.

A few minutes ago, we heard about “The Sons of Thunder.” Who is that you say? Why that’s the nickname Jesus gave the Zebedee brothers. “Sons of Thunder”. Please don’t tell me Jesus didn’t have a sense of humor.

We wonder how they came to receive that nickname. Were they somewhat bombastic? Were they captains of industry? Were they an example of success to those with whom they encountered? Did they have the right haircut, the right clothes, the right sandals, know the right people, ride the right donkey, sing with fabulous voices? Were they experts in Torah studies?

We know they wanted to succeed in life because of the question they asked Jesus. “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” That’s a pretty huge request. It might be like being the next in line in a huge corporation, only bigger, I guess.

The brothers have tied their futures to him. He is the real deal. He is the son of God as far as they can tell. He speaks well, is incredibly intelligent, wonderfully compassionate, backs down to no one, I mean he is questioned by Pharisees, Sadducees, priests, and everybody else in power and he makes them all look silly. Tying one’s future to Jesus is definitely the way to go! The future is so bright they must wear sunglasses.

Now let’s take a moment and think about these fellows. Don’t we all have a little of this same desire for success they have? Wouldn’t we like to sit at the top and enjoy the fruits of our journey to get there? Haven’t you imagined what it would be like? Who have you hooked your future to?

Every modern organization has a mission statement that defines it in a sentence or two. We will make the finest widgets in the world. We will be an address for the Kingdom of God. We will be the finest teachers of business methods. As people we too have mission statements whether we are aware of it or not. I want to be the richest person around. I want to be a great author. I want to live my life in a certain way. I want to be a successful, fill in the blank.

Now what I find really interesting and more important than the mission statement for our discussion today is the mission question that generally goes unstated. If I commit myself to one of these organizations, or to a leader of some sort, or a lifestyle of some sort what is in it for me? That’s the big question today: what is in it for me? If I am going to sacrifice and give up other options, what is in it for me? If I am going to be your friend what is in it for me? If I am going to have a relationship with you what is in it for me? If I am going to go to church here what is in it for me?

What is in it for me? I cannot imagine a more common or a more dangerous question. This is the question that ruins friendships, strains and breaks relationships, and turns church goers into Christian consumers. Think about it. Life becomes transactional. The question is all about me, me, me. Life is lonely and there is never enough. The hole in one’s chest becomes impossible to fill. Nothing, and no one, is ever good enough.

As usual Jesus has a better idea which he models for us. His question is completely different. Rather than asking what is in it for him he asks a better question. “What is it you want me to do for you?”

Now before we go on, we must remember that Jesus was not an open check book. When the brothers asked Jesus to be beside him, he told them it was not his to give. On the other hand, when those truly in need told him what they needed he gladly gave it to them. He discerned the needs of each person and gave what he was able, and called to give, each time. Jesus was an incredibly intelligent and brave man. He was not a sucker. I am quite certain if he felt the loving answer was no that is what he said. Jesus would ask nothing more or less of us.

Jesus invites us to leave the life of never-ending deals and grasping and take up another life, a life of service. If we can step on board with Jesus, even for a little bit at first, we discover another world opening in front of us.

I think most of us realize that service as a way of life is far more meaningful than a transactional lifestyle. Great good comes from emptying oneself rather than grasping and hoarding. Giving away and helping leads one to feelings than cannot be experienced in any other way. Through this way of living, we discover that abundance already exists. The cosmos refills us with goodness and joy faster than we can empty ourselves. We find that through giving what we have away, somehow, we wind up lacking nothing.

Yes, it’s counter-cultural. Yes, we must test the waters some before we dive into the deep end of the pool. But when we do get our feet wet, we discover a feeling of satisfaction that cannot be found in any other way.

What do you want me to do for you?

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost: First Steps

October 14, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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.”

Heinrich Hofmann, "Christ and the Rich Young Ruler" (Public Domain)

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.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost: On Compassion

October 3, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

Mark 10:2-16

Some Pharisees came, and to test Jesus they asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” He answered them, “What did Moses command you?” They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her.” But Jesus said to them, “Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you. But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

Then in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. He said to them, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.

This morning Jesus is talking about a couple of things in the gospel we just read. The first and perhaps most important is compassion, and the second is the gift of the Kingdom of God.

To get things started about compassion here is a little funny.

There were three guys talking one morning in a coffee shop. Two of them were talking about the amount of control they have over their wives, while the third remained quiet. After a while one of the first two turned to the third and said, "Well, you haven’t said a word. What about you, what sort of control do you have over your wife?" The third fellow said, puffing up a little, "I'll tell you. Just the other night my wife came to me on her hands and knees." The first two guys were amazed. "What happened then?" they asked. "She said, 'get out from under the bed and fight like a man'."

If you will recall, today’s gospel started off with Jesus being tested by some Pharisees in public. By definition, in those days, asking a question in public was always treated as hostile. The normal thing to do was to answer a question with a question and we will see that Jesus does that.

They were testing Jesus’ knowledge of scripture. So, they asked Jesus this question. “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” Now under Roman law divorce being brought by a woman was a possibility, but under Jewish law and custom only a man could seek a divorce. And the truth of it was that it wasn’t really a divorce as we would experience it. If you check the Greek, it was actually called a dismissal, a rejection, an expulsion. These are ugly words for an ugly reality.

Here is an example of the difference between a divorce and a dismissal. Think about the Blessing of the Animals. You bring an animal to be blessed. They had no say in the decision. They even have no say if you decide you don’t want them around anymore and decide to take them to the pound or give them away. They are property, just like a chair, or anything else you might own. Now you aren’t supposed to mistreat them, but other than that you can do as you please. This is pretty much the relationship between men and women in the first century. Women in the Holy Land had no right to seek a divorce. Men could dismiss a woman whenever they chose, for any reason, and I mean any reason. Women could not. They were a possession.

And so, what would happen if a woman was dismissed? She couldn’t return to her family. They would be ashamed of her. Her options for survival were pretty limited. Being dismissed could literally wind up being a death sentence for a woman if she was unable to accept a life of begging or prostitution. If she was lucky she might find a man that would accept her.

Jesus answered the question he was asked with a question of his own. “What does the law of Moses say?”

“Well”, said the Pharisees, “a man may present her with a scroll of dismissal.”

The compassion of Jesus comes through clearly in his reply to their answer. He told them that Moses only said that was ok because he knew how hard hearted the men were that sent their wives away. Jesus was very aware of the fate awaiting a rejected woman and simply states to these Pharisees that Moses was wrong and the system was unfair.

Male and female were created in God’s image. What God had joined together let no one pull apart. The Greek says yoked together, not joined.

Later when Jesus and his disciples were alone, they asked him to explain further what he had just said. They were probably a little surprised by what they have just heard him say. So, Jesus nailed it down for them. He gave equal rights to both the man and the woman in a divorce saying that if either married another they were committing adultery. What God had yoked together was not to be torn apart.

Now let’s not get all caught up in whether divorce is ever appropriate. That’s each of our decisions to make and every situation is different. I firmly believe there are times that divorce is the only option.

What I really want us to think about are a couple of things. First of all, what Jesus has said is about compassion as much as anything else. It is not ok to hurt another human being as women were being hurt when a man dismissed her. Second, Jesus was raising the status of women toward the level of men. Again and again, we see Jesus standing with the oppressed in scripture

And now we get to the rest of today’s gospel. It says that people were bringing children to Jesus for his blessing and the disciples were trying to stop them from doing so. If we remember from a couple of weeks ago people did not see children in the same way we do today. Jesus said to bring them to him because he had a point to make.

Jesus said something in the context of children that looms large. He said that whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it. I don’t know about you but every time I think about this sentence, I concentrate on what it means to be child-like. And then I think about the word receive. Receive is a gift word. Receive means we somehow acquire or become the receptacle of something.

In this case Jesus is telling us that we receive the Kingdom of God. We can’t earn it because we are told we must be child-like to receive it. We can’t control it for the same reason. So, by definition the Kingdom of God is something freely given to those who cannot possibly earn it, qualify for it, or control it.

You know when I speak with others about God, I am amazed how we never cease attempting to be in control of our relationship with God just like we try to control everything else in our lives. We are constantly attempting to earn our way to God’s love and salvation. The idea that God’s grace is freely given is almost impossible for us to get our minds around. Yet Jesus could not be stating that case more clearly than he is in this gospel. We receive the Kingdom of God. We don’t earn it. We can’t earn it. It is freely given and we are the receptacles.

Is it any wonder that Jesus took the attitude he did when asked about a man dismissing a woman? In the Kingdom of God people are not treated like possessions. In the Kingdom of God, the love of God and God’s grace abounds. How can we, who receive the Kingdom of God at no charge, who in fact receive the Kingdom of God as little children, freely given to us in the most delightful ways, possibly justify domination or abuse of others?

This is Jesus’ point. This is where it all ties together. We are not in control. We will never be in control. This is God’s world. The Kingdom of God cannot be earned, and is freely given to God’s children. All we are ever asked to do is to love God, and to do the loving thing with others. This includes our spouses, our families, our friends, our associates, and everyone else we may run across. Hmmm.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost: "Be at Peace with One Another."

September 26, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by J.D. Neal

Mark 9:38-50

John said to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.

“If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.

“For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”

Today’s Gospel is a dense one and, frankly, an odd one. Let’s look back over it for a minute. We begin with the disciples telling Jesus about their encounter with a rogue exorcist who they condemned. Jesus responds with a rebuke, warning them that it would be better to be drowned with a boulder strapped to their neck than to ‘cause a little one to stumble.’ Jesus chases this rebuke with an intense and graphic account of how it would be better to lop off a limb or poke out an eye rather than end up burning in hell, and to cap everything off, he closes with some cryptic sayings about fire, salt, fiery salt, and peace.

I would not blame you if you read this passage, took a deep breath, and walked away feeling like you had rammed your head into a wall. Actually, that’s pretty much how I feel half the times I sit down and read the gospels. But although Jesus is a frustrating teacher, he is a good teacher and so far I have yet to find a puzzling teaching like this that doesn’t have some good pearl buried deep down if I take the time to dig. So, let’s dig.

If your brain works like mine, two questions jumped out at you. First, you wondered just why the disciples shut down this strange exorcist who cast out demons in the name of Jesus. And, second, you wondered why this was such a problem for Jesus that he responded with what is probably the harshest warning he gives in the whole Gospel. What is going on here that earns such an intense response from Jesus?

When we look into the first question, things appear straight forward. With the disciples and Jesus all gathered in a house somewhere in Capernaum after a day of travel, John, one of Jesus’ inner circle speaks up to tell Jesus about how they met someone on the road who was casting out demons in his name. “Not to worry though, Jesus! We stopped him, because he wasn’t following us.” Well, that seems right, doesn’t it? After all, who would want a rogue exorcist running around the Judean countryside shouting Jesus’ name when he doesn’t actually follow Jesus like the disciples do? Except, that’s not quite what John said, was it? It’s not that this spiritual healer didn’t follow Jesus, it’s that he didn’t follow “us.”

As we poke around the context of our passage, the disciples’ motivations become even more complicated. Just a few paragraphs before this, Jesus finds the disciples failing to cast out a demon who afflicted a young boy, and just a few verses earlier in this very conversation — in our Gospel from last week — Jesus confronted the disciples as they fought amongst themselves about which among them was the “greatest.”

Do you hear it? That resentment in John’s voice as he describes this stranger who could do what he, one of Jesus’ closest disciples could not do? That thinly veiled desire to protect his ‘greatness’, his status, as one of Jesus’ chosen disciples (which is the very thing Jesus had just rebuked the disciples for a few verses earlier)?

When John says that they shut down this stranger because he wasn’t ‘following us,’ he meant it. This stranger was casting out demons, opposing the forces of evil that plagued the vulnerable in Israel, and bringing healing to the very people whom Jesus loved and was sent to. This exorcist was doing exactly what we see Jesus doing throughout the gospel, exactly what the disciples had seen Jesus do a thousand times. This stranger was following Jesus, he just wasn’t following the disciples.

This stranger didn’t follow Jesus around, constantly traveling from village to village like the disciples did, he didn’t have to worry about feeding the huge crowds who met Jesus in the wilderness, and most importantly, he hadn’t received the same teaching that the disciples had. This stranger didn’t know everything the disciples knew, he didn’t have all the ideas and parables Jesus had passed on to them. In short, he did not look like what the disciples thought a follower of Jesus was supposed to look like. And so, they rejected him.

Is this starting to sound familiar? You and I live in a world that teaches us to maintain our status by rejecting anyone and everyone that disagrees with us, that doesn’t think or act the way we do — especially among Christians. If I turned on a TV or opened up my phone, it wouldn’t take me more than a few seconds to find someone shouting down another who disagrees with them or writing a manifesto on someone else’s Facebook wall about how stupid they are for believing what they believe. We are taught to reject others, to respond in resentment, jealousy, or defensiveness — especially if our disagreements have to do with our political ideologies or our theology.

We might not be going from church to church standing up and cursing each other in the pews, but I know that it would not take me long to find another Christian on social media saying something that annoyed me so deeply that I found myself writing a little sermon in my head to show them why they were wrong — why they shouldn’t even be wearing the name of Christ while thinking something so foolish. And I would feel validated by it. Or, perhaps more likely, I would see such an interaction happening on the news or on Facebook and I would smile to myself internally, contenting myself with the smug thought that I would never stoop so low as to do something like that on the internet. Whichever flavor we prefer, we are all subject to the temptation to prop up our own ‘greatness’ by looking down on those who disagree with us, who don’t ‘follow us.’

Now, for the second question. Why is this act of rejection so upsetting to Jesus? Again, a little bit of context begins to open up the passage to us. When Jesus begins to warn the disciples that it would be better to have a millstone strapped to their neck or to cut off a limb than to cause ‘one of these little ones who believe’ to stumble, he isn’t suddenly changing the topic to talk about kindness to children. He’s referring back to something he said to the disciples in last week’s gospel, just a few verses earlier.

If you remember Fr. Bill’s sermon last week, you’ll remember that Jesus has just told the disciples that rather than fighting with each other to be the greatest, they should be working to become the ‘servant of all.’ They should be working to become like a humble child, who does not worry about ‘greatness,’ status, or standing and instead works to serve others. Jesus goes so far as to identify himself with ‘little ones’ like this, saying that whoever welcomes someone that is like a child in these ways welcomes Jesus himself, and whoever welcomes Jesus welcomes God who sent him.

When Jesus warns the disciples that making ‘one of these little ones’ stumble is more dangerous than jumping into a lake with a weight tied to our throats, he is telling the disciples that this strange exorcist is one of these ‘little ones,’ one of those who are trying to become a servant to all. Jesus is telling the disciples that he is with this stranger, and that by rejecting this exorcist, they have rejected Jesus, and in rejecting Jesus, they have rejected God. Instead of welcoming this stranger with even something as small as a cup of water to drink, they tried to stop him from doing the work of Christ in the name of Christ and thus the disciples have set themselves against Christ.

Jesus’ warning to the disciples here is a warning to us as well. In a few minutes we will pray the Prayers of the People, like we do every week, asking God to, “Bless all whose lives are closely linked with ours, and grant that we may serve Christ in them, and love one another as he loves us.” Today’s gospel shows us that there is a flip side to this prayer. If Christ is really “in” those around us, if he really identifies himself with those who serve, then we run the risk of missing and rejecting him.

When we care more about our status, our greatness, or our ‘rightness’ than we do about recognizing, welcoming, and serving Christ in those around us — even Christ-in-those who we deeply resent or disagree with — then we have set ourselves against Jesus and against the work of God in our world. In Jesus’ words from the end of today’s gospel, we have lost that ‘saltiness’ that preserves us from corruption and brings the taste of Christ into our world.

But this word of warning is also a word of hope. For if we can hear Jesus, if we can learn with the disciples to welcome others, then we will meet Christ everywhere in those we serve and receive him afresh even from those who it would be so easy for us to despise. If we can learn to serve Christ in them, to ‘be at peace with one another,’ then we can become those ‘little ones’ who Christ identifies himself with and dwells within. And if we do this, we welcome Christ into our midst.

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

September 26, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Mark 9:30-37

Jesus and his disciples passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

I often look back at sermons I have preached in the past to refresh my understanding of the gospel for the coming Sunday. Some gospels, like the one you just heard, I have spent a lot of time with, and am grateful for that. The gospel this week, among other things, speaks about children in the first century. It has much to teach us. So, in that vein I thought I would share a story about learning something from a child.

One day, a wealthy family man took his son on a trip to the country so he could have his son see how poor country people were. He wanted his son to learn to appreciate all that they had.

They stayed one day and one night at the farm of a very humble farm family.

When they got back home the father asked the son, “What did you think of the trip”?

The son replied, “Very nice Dad.”

Dad said, “Did you notice how poor they were?”

“Yes”.

“So, what did you learn from this trip?”

“I’ve learned that we have one dog in the house, and they had four. We have a fountain and imported lamps in our garden. They have a stream with no end and the stars in the sky. Our garden goes to the edge of our property. They have the entire horizon as their back yard.”

The father was speechless.

Then his son said, “Thank you Dad, for showing me what true riches really looks like.”

Isn’t that a great story? The young often have wisdom beyond their age and are able to see things we cannot so readily see.

The gospel today is a uniquely special one in my books. It speaks to an important way of being in the world and with each other. Let’s take a look.

First of all as we heard, Jesus tells those listening that he will be killed and be raised from the dead on the third day. They of course cannot get their heads around this announcement as he is still with them, and people do not routinely come back from the dead.

But we have a different perspective. We know the rest of the story, and we recognize two things. First, because of his sacrifice on the cross we have eternal life, which frankly is as hard to understand today as his coming resurrection was for those listening in the first century. Second, we have an incredible example of servant leadership in his willingness to die on our behalf. More on this in a little bit.

Then we heard the two brothers who had been arguing about who was the greatest. We are unsure about whether they were talking about each other or the group, but we recognize that this was a normal subject of conversation in the Roman Empire. (As an aside it seems to have become a normal subject of conversation in this day too.) Yet, when Jesus asked them about what they were talking they did not easily answer him. We assume they were probably ashamed.

When they got home to Capernaum Jesus had something incredibly profound to say. “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Think about that for a moment. Step back and hear Jesus. In his day and ours this is completely counter-cultural. Instinctively we know he is right. His is a better way. If we are honest, it probably makes us uneasy, but we know he is right.

To illustrate, and flesh out his message, he took a child and, placing his arms around the child, said to them. “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

I have no doubt that children were loved in the first century by their families. How could they not have been? In scripture we hear fathers and mothers seeking out Jesus to help their kids in time of need and demonstrating the love and care we are sure they possessed. Yet we must also remember that children were thought of in entirely a different way than we in this room contemplate them.

Children weren’t welcomed in the first century in the same way they are welcomed today by most of the populace. They were tolerated instead, and thought of as a commodity waiting to mature. For an example women had to get pregnant at least seven times just to keep the population from declining. Children had a 50-50 chance to live to age 17. Women generally gave birth until they could no longer do so or until they died in childbirth.

I am sure children played like all kids do, but children were primarily an economic asset, able and expected to work very early in life, much earlier than we would put them to work in our culture. They were property until they were either old enough to own property themselves — the boys that is — or sold in marriage to another male — the girls. They were expected to become their parent’s economic security in their old age as there was no social security in that day.

Children couldn’t speak for themselves. They had no power whatsoever. They were in fact the lowest rung on the ladder of influence and power. Nobody was lower.

And yet, Jesus is telling them and us that to welcome a child is to welcome him and to welcome him is to welcome God. Put another way, put children and all others ahead of yourself if you want to be the greatest.

If you wish to be the greatest you must choose to be the least. Jesus himself put an exclamation point on this when he chose to be executed so that we might have eternal life. He made himself the least, and we would say that by doing so he became the greatest.

This is a special Sunday for me. My first Sunday here was September 18, 2011, ten years ago. Much has happened since then in this church, much of which to be proud, but perhaps the most important idea has been the fact that we remind ourselves to do the loving thing on a regular basis. We do it every time we are about to reenter the world around us. Doing so comes directly from today’s teaching and others like it from Jesus.

I would submit to you this morning, in the 21st century there is no more important and life-giving idea. If all the people who have heard Jesus express this simple concept could sincerely attempt to follow his advice, imagine what might happen. It’s mind boggling, isn’t it?

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

September 14, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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

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.

Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Seeing Jesus Clearly

September 6, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Mark 7:24-37

Michael Angelo Immenraet: Jesus and the Woman of Canaan

Jesus set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” But she answered him, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” Then he said to her, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.” And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. They were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”

Have you ever not seen what was right in front of you? And then someone else tells you it’s there, points it out to you, and it pops right out at you? Then you wonder why you didn’t see it before? Well, today this is what we are talking about, seeing what we haven’t seen before, or perhaps reseeing what we have seen before but do no longer.

I think this might be a good example. I borrow the story from another pastor.

After services one Sunday morning, Brian, a member of our congregation, asked me a hypothetical question. He said, “Pastor Ray, if you were stranded on a desert island and could only have one book, any book in the world, which book would it be, and why?”

As a minister, I thought the answer to his inquiry was very apparent. I said, “Brian, if I could only have one book, I would want the Bible because it would help give me spiritual strength in getting through the challenge of being stranded on a desert island.” I believed that my answer had a great deal of merit. Especially since it was Sunday morning and we had just completed church services.

Expecting him to reinforce my answer, I asked Brian the same question; “If you were stranded on that island, which book would you want?”

With a smile on his face his answer was immediate. He said, “If it were me, I would want a book titled, 'How to Build a Boat.'“

Have you ever noticed that in scripture the folks that fully recognize Jesus, or are doing the loving thing, are often the ones we wouldn’t expect to do so? Here are some examples: the Good Samaritan, the Roman Centurion, the only one of the nine lepers that turned back to thank him for healing them, Mary Magdalene and her seven spirits, the woman who was a sinner and washed the feet of Jesus, the tax collector, and many more. In fact, today’s gospel contains two of those stories.

The first story really grabs us. Jesus is in the region of Tyre, a famously gentile area despised by many of the Jewish people. Apparently, Jesus would like to rest a bit, but there is no hiding for him. A gentile woman has a sick child. She has the temerity to interrupt him and ask him to heal her daughter.

Now please think first century. Honestly, to some extent metaphorically think Taliban. Men were not to have anything to do with women in public. And that included talking, touching, or anything else that would bring them into some form of contact. During their interaction she and Jesus break every societal custom in the book. Any Jewish person watching would have been horrified.

His answer to her request is startling. “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Now I have to tell you I cannot explain why he said what he said. Something got lost along the way. He is clearly saying that the children are the Israelites and come first. The gentiles are the dogs in the metaphor and come second. I have heard all sorts of explanations and none satisfy me. So, I hang on to the word “first”. I take solace that the dogs will get fed along with the people of Israel.

It’s just that the children are to be fed first. I am also aware that Jesus was harder on the Jewish leadership than anybody else, including this woman. He told the “children” on more than one occasion that what was theirs would be given to others since they appeared to be rejecting the food that was represented in his teaching.

In any event, this woman persuaded him to heal her daughter. She was absolutely sure he could. She bowed to him, and even said the dogs take the crumbs that fall to them. She impressed Jesus with her certainty about him, her recognition of who he was, and of what he was capable.

Why then didn’t those in power recognize Jesus for who he was? It’s an easy question for us to answer, but I warn you we answer it with some trepidation. They didn’t recognize Jesus because what he was teaching was counter-cultural and because it wasn’t in their best interests to do so.

The theology of Jesus was one of common sense. We heard last Sunday about hand washing. What comes out of a person defiles them, not what goes into a person. We hear often in scripture about the Sabbath. Was humankind created for the Sabbath or was the Sabbath created for humankind? Speaking of the Sabbath, when is it appropriate to come to someone’s aid? Jesus spent time with the outcasts of society, something those in power never would have imagined doing. Jesus even touched folks those in power would never have touched.

And, I wonder for those in power, if taking care of their own self-interests wasn’t even more important than their differences in theology. You see agreeing with the theology of Jesus shined a light on them that was way too bright. It exposed the flaws of their thinking, living, and their associations with each other, their fellow Israelites, and the world around them.

Now this is where you and I are required to sit up and take notice. Are we that much different from the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Scribes, and those other folks of money and power that encountered Jesus? Have we compared our own lives and the theology that guides us with them? Is it convenient for us theologically, and in terms of our station in life, to follow him? Or do we build other theologies, ones that allows us to acknowledge Jesus in some form or other without really engaging with him and seeing who he really is? Do we fail to see what is right in front of us?

In order to see Jesus clearly, we must go back to basics. For me that means engaging the writing of scripture, and in particular the writings of Paul in the New Testament. And there is really only one question that needs to be answered. It is the lynchpin for the entire Christian theology, and reminds us who Jesus Christ was in this life and beyond. The question: was he more than just a great man?

Now I have beaten to death the reality of Paul’s writings. I have talked time and again about the seven letters he actually wrote that are historical documents. Documents of truth if you will. I won’t bore you with the background again this morning. It is here that we find the answer to this most important question.

Let’s go to First Corinthians, chapter fifteen, verse three through eight for the answer.

“For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to someone untimely born, he appeared also to me.”

Doesn’t that passage bring Jesus into focus? Doesn’t it help us to see him more clearly? Doesn’t it highlight who he is? And doesn’t it shine a light on our own belief systems, ones we are so careful to protect? Others on the planet already see him pretty clearly it would seem, but then they probably don’t have as much to protect.

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Clean Hearts

August 30, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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.

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.

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Choosing God

August 23, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carolyn Estrada

Joshua 24:1-2a,14-18 (NRSV)

Joshua gathered all the tribes of Israel to Shechem, and summoned the elders, the heads, the judges, and the officers of Israel; and they presented themselves before God. And Joshua said to all the people, “Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel:

“Now therefore revere the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord. Now if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served in the region beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living; but as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”

Then the people answered, “Far be it from us that we should forsake the Lord to serve other gods; for it is the Lord our God who brought us and our ancestors up from the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery, and who did those great signs in our sight. He protected us along all the way that we went, and among all the peoples through whom we passed; and the Lord drove out before us all the peoples, the Amorites who lived in the land. Therefore we also will serve the Lord, for he is our God.”

John 6:56-69 (NRSV)

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.”

Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

“…choose this day whom you will serve…” Joshua directs the Israelites.

Jesus tells the disciples the same thing, in a rather backwards fashion: “Do you wish to go away?”

This morning’s Scriptures ask us to choose a relationship with the God who has first chosen us:

I will be your God, and you will be my people, God told the Israelites.

We often have lessons which are variations on the theme of God’s love for us and our having been chosen by God. Today’s lessons focus on the other side of the equation, on our choice of God, our choice to LOVE God back.

How often do we even think of our relationship with God as a choice?

“Choose…whom you will serve,” Joshua says.

“Are you in or out?” asks Jesus.

Most of us, I think, are Christians by habit: we grew up that way. The last time we consciously thought about CHOOSING God may well have been when we were confirmed – or, perhaps, when the alarm went off this morning.

Today we have baptized Kai. As an adult he would have been asked, “Do you desire to be baptized?” That is, do you choose this relationship with God? As a child, his parents make the choice for him – and for themselves, as they live into teaching, by word and example, what it means to love God.

A choice – and a commitment.

The disciples said, “These teachings are difficult…” And they are: Jesus’ teachings have not changed; they are today as difficult as they were for Peter and the other disciples: love God; love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; and discover the Kingdom of Heaven in your midst.

But they are also incredibly rewarding.

They offer life, light, and hope.

It’s not that people don’t still want those things – the life that Jesus offers. It’s just that – well, isn’t there an easier way?!!

And there are so many other things that seem to call out, offering the same benefits!

Our media constantly bombards us with opportunities for a future filled with happiness, success, popularity, perpetual youth, abundance – a kind of secular equivalent to Light and Life – except that it’s illusory. These things are programmed, not for fulfillment, but to leave us longing for more, better, the next thing…

In our own lifetimes many of us have seen our contemporaries, even our own children, turn away, sleep in, do something different on Sunday mornings, no longer make the choice that you and I have made to be here this morning.

They’ve made their choice for Jesus at baptism, or confirmation, and now they’re on to the next thing…

What we often fail to recognize is that our choice for God is not a one-time, once-and-for-all thing. It’s not a box to check on our “To Do List” or a “Well, now that’s done – I can put it on the shelf until we need it or mount it in a box on the wall marked ‘In case of emergency, break glass.’” Our choice for God is on-going, made over and over again in everything we do, every act we take…

Our choice for God is made not with our mouths, but with our lives.

Our choice for God is not a list of creeds and strictures externally applied and enforced, but manifests the essence of the Hebrew schema: the loving of God with heart and soul and strength.

Our choice for God is not a certificate we hang on the wall, but a way of being in the world.

I know a woman who tells the story of what brought her into the church. It was a woman she worked with, she told me, who brought her here: not because of what she said (“Have you been saved?” or, “Why don’t you come to church with me?”) but because of who she WAS, a woman whose way of being in the world was so compelling, so inspiring, that Robin found herself saying, “I want that! I want what she’s got!”

I want to feel that Love of God, that Love FOR God!

How DO we love God?

What does it mean, then, to choose God?

It means that in all that we say and all that we do, we are mindful of the Way of Jesus; we remember that we are God’s way of being in the world, God’s hands and feet and, yes, voice.
It means we must heighten our awareness of even our most unconscious acts – and recognize that we are constantly making choices to do one thing and not another, to say one thing and not another.
And we must ask ourselves: does this choice lead me in the direction of God?
In our daily interactions – not just with our “company manners” – are we reflecting love and compassion?
Are we extending our embrace not only to include, but to draw into the center, those on the margins of society?

This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?

Yes, this teaching is difficult. That’s one reason we come together as a community, to support one another on this difficult journey, to help each other get better at loving God.

Annie Lamott defends making her teenage son go to church, even though he hates it, not because God doesn’t love teenagers who don’t go to church, but because she feels he needs to see people who “love God back.” “Learning to love back,” she says, “is the hardest part of being alive.” (cited in Christian Century Aug. 23, 2006, p. 6)

Learn to choose God, she is telling him, from the witness of those who have chosen God. Learn to love God by being with people who love God.

Dorothy Soelle, a feminist theologian and activist, talks about how she grew up hearing the gospel of God’s saving love for her – but nothing about what it might mean for her to love God in return, to choose God. It was discovering the mystics who taught her to go from “thinking about” God to loving God in such a way that her love for God animated her prophetic witness, her activism. She chose the God who had already chosen her.

Augustine tells us there can be only two basic loves: the love of God into the forgetfulness of self, or the love of self into the forgetfulness and denial of God.

Do we choose to love the gods of our captivity – or to love the God who brings us out of Egypt and into new life in Cana?

Do we turn our backs, like some of the disciples, and go away from following Jesus, get distracted by other options, or seduced by other promises – or do we choose the new life in him?

Yes, this teaching is difficult.

But we choose it!

We choose it!

Not because “to whom else would we go?” as Peter said, but because it works!

It is life-giving!

It enriches our world, gives texture to our lives, and brings joy and peace to our souls.

May we continue to choose God in all that we say and all that we do, that our choice to love God SHOWS in our lives, making us instruments of God’s love in this world.

Amen.

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost: The Story of the Eucharist

August 16, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by. Fr. Bill Garrison

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

John 6:51-58

Jesus said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.”

Food is an important part of human interaction. We get much more than physical sustenance from eating. In many ways it helps us move life down the road in our families, our businesses, and in every part of our lives. It’s certainly important in the life of a church. So, here’s a little story to start off a discussion about the importance of food.

A woman accompanied her husband to the doctor's office.

After his checkup, the doctor called the wife into his office alone. He said, “Your husband is suffering from a very severe stress disorder. If you don't follow my instructions carefully, your husband may not live out the year.

“Each morning, fix him a healthy breakfast. Be pleasant at all times. For lunch make him a nutritious meal. For dinner prepare an especially nice meal for him. Don’t worry about the calories for now. Remember that men derive great satisfaction from food.

“Don't burden him with chores. Don't discuss your problems with him; it will only make his stress worse. Do not nag him.”

“If you can do this for the next 10 months or so, I think your husband will regain his health completely.”

On the way home, the husband asked his wife, “What did the doctor say?”

Her response: “He said, I need to help you get your affairs in order, and to do so fairly quickly, in the next ten months or so in fact.”

We are talking about special food and its importance in our lives this morning. Jesus recognized the importance of food and gave us the gift of Eucharist, the worship service centered in bread and wine, to remember him. It reminds us of the sacrifice Jesus made for us. The symbolic representation of his body and blood are the centerpiece of our weekly worship service.

In the gospel read a moment ago we are well aware of the fact that Jesus is talking about Eucharist, communion if you like. He makes direct reference to his body and blood in this gospel. He makes concrete statements about the meaning of the bread and the wine. For the audience of the moment, they probably didn’t fully understand what he was talking about since he was still alive and in their presence. But we do.

Eucharist goes back to our Lord. For me that means the year 33 CE. Eucharist will soon be 2000 years old and has been celebrated ever since he instituted it on the night before he was crucified. Let’s look at some important history we can find in the New Testament.

First let’s examine the source of the information. The Apostle Paul wrote letters to congregations he had founded. Seven of those letters are in the New Testament. Paul never meant for us, or anyone other than the recipients, to read them. He had no special agenda other than to help the congregations to whom they were written. They are valuable historical documents. It’s like a special window into the first century.

Today we are going to look through that window, specifically the First letter to the Corinthians and the letter to the Galatians. Now let’s hear a small portion of the letter to the Corinthians, chapter 11, verses 23-26. Paul quotes Jesus and explains how Eucharist is done.

23 “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, 24 and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ 25 In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ 26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes”.

Now you ask, how did Paul get this information? The answer is twofold. First, he says Jesus told him in some special and mysterious way, but if you don’t necessarily buy that there is another almost irrefutable way to be certain. Paul was with Peter, who was with Jesus that night on that last night, and Peter confirmed what Paul believed to be true. In fact, I am sure the two of them celebrated Eucharist together, probably several times.

Now let’s take a look at Galatians, chapter 1, verses 18 and 19. Paul is speaking. “Then after three years I did go up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and stayed with him for fifteen days; but I did not see any other apostle except James the Lord’s brother.” In case you are unaware, Cephas was Peter’s nickname. Paul was with Peter, and James the brother of Jesus, for fifteen days. We just found a window through time to that event.

We have learned the history of the creation of Eucharist. Pretty cool huh? Later in Galatians chapter two Paul talks about going back to Jerusalem fourteen years later and confirming everything he had been doing with Peter and the Pillars of the growing church. They confirmed that he was right on track. I invite you to look it up yourselves if you are willing. It’s well worth the effort.

The church has a history surrounding Eucharist since our Lord initiated it. For the most part the debate has raged between the bread and wine literally becoming the body and blood of Christ on one end, and being completely symbolic on the other. For my money think what you want. Something is happening when we take communion. This much we know. And for me that is enough.

So why did I go through this? I wanted to underline the importance of Eucharist. It’s not just some ritual made up by priests to make everyone feel good or holy. It is a creation by the Son of God for our benefit. It is a way to be in touch with him, that we may not fully comprehend, but we feel it deeply within ourselves. When we participate, we know we have been fed with the food of eternity.

This reason above all others is why we need to be in church. Eucharist is the sustenance we need for living. If anything has taught us that, think about the last year and a half. Many of us have starved for the body and blood of Christ. Getting to finally partake again returns out strength. If you haven’t been here in a bit, please accept the invitation from your savior to return, to eat, to gain your strength for the road ahead. This gift of Christ awaits all of us.

No matter where you are on your journey with God, know that all people, without exception, are welcome here at God’s table. Won’t you please come?

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost: Imitators of God

August 9, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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.

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.

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost: Where is God?

August 2, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

John 6:24-35

The next day, when the people who remained after the feeding of the five thousand saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus.

When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.” Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

There’s a big question going around these days in some circles. The virus seems to be taking hold within our communities, especially among the unvaccinated. The political situation is dicey at best. The homeless problems continue to confound. The economy is incredible for some and torturous for others. And a lot of folks are wondering. Where is God? Has God left the building with Elvis? I’m reminded of that old line from American Pie. “The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost took the last train to the coast, the day the music died.” We wonder if the music indeed has died.

Here is a quick story on that exact subject. Two young boys were terrible trouble makers. They were always breaking things, stealing things, lying, and making all kinds of general trouble. Their parents tried everything to get the boys to change, but to no avail. Finally, out of options, they asked their pastor if he could help. He said he would talk to the boys, but only one at a time.

The parents dropped off the youngest and went home, promising to return to get him soon. The young man sat in a chair across from the pastor's desk and they just looked at each other. Finally, the Pastor said, "Where is God?" The boy just sat there and didn't answer.

The pastor began to look stern and loudly said, "Where is God?" The little boy shifted in his seat, but still didn’t answer. So, the pastor began to get a little angry at the boy's refusal to answer him and said a little louder,

"Where is God?"

To the pastor's surprise, the little boy jumped up out of his chair and ran out of the office. He left the church and ran all the way home, up the stairs, and into his brother's room. Once there he shut the door and panted out the following words. "We're in BIG TROUBLE. God's missing and they think we did it!"

I do my best whenever I preach to attempt to convey something I truly believe, and I arrive at most of my conclusions primarily from scripture mixed in with some stories from life and prayer. In that light the gospel today may provide some answers for us to the huge question being asked. Let’s see. I am going to paraphrase quite a bit. Please bear with me.

Jesus and the disciples have just fed the 5000. Then they left town. These things were reported in last week’s gospel. They went home to Capernaum. The remainder of the crowd they left behind never went home and spent the night. Instead, they wonder what happened to Jesus and follow him to Capernaum.

When the crowd arrives, Jesus is not confused about why most of them are there. Jesus is well aware that his miracles often get in the way of his teaching. In Mark he even asks those he has healed not to say anything for that very reason. He understands the crowd wants something to eat. He has proven that he is capable of feeding them and food availability in that day was incredibly important.

They even ask him when he left. There is more to the question than those simple words. They probably feel abandoned. That echoes down to us today, doesn’t it? Where is God when we need God? When did God leave us? Why did God leave us? It’s lonely and scary these days.

Jesus continues to speak to them. You would be a lot better off he says if you would understand the signs that point to who I am. I am offering much more than bread. I am offering partnership with you and eternal life. God has sent me to you.

Now he has their attention.

“How can we know that you come from God? Our ancestors ate manna in the wilderness. Moses gave us bread from heaven to eat. What are you going to do to prove who you are? What sign will you give us?”

And Jesus said to them. “Listen: it wasn’t Moses that gave it to you, it was God.” I am the bread that God has sent to God’s people. This is a metaphor everybody. Understand what I am telling you. “Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” This is more important than the bread I gave you yesterday, the miracle that was performed that blinded you. You are being offered so much more. Hear what I am saying to you.

I wonder if he would have liked to shake them. They could have understood who he was the day before, but they hadn’t. Were they going to today?

Folks, we are like the crowd in this story looking for the miracle of more to eat. We want the bread too. We are blinded by our hopes for a miracle, that God will intervene and solve some of our problems for us. We are convinced that God has gone on to Capernaum and we must go in pursuit.

Well, God hasn’t gone anywhere. The gift of life through Jesus has already been given. Yes, things are a mess. Yes, it would be nice if God would solve our issues. But it doesn’t appear that God works that way. Instead, God seems happy enough to walk the path we must walk with us, our partner, as we live our lives as we choose to do so, alongside us every step of the way. On top of that eternity is promised when we are done.

Like that crowd twenty centuries ago, Jesus asks another important question of us. Is this the day we finally understand, or will Jesus have to keep trying to convince us? Thank goodness God never seems to give up.

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost: The Loaves & Fishes

July 29, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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.

The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes - James Tissot (Public Domain)

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 Eighth Sunday after Pentecost: Getting Some Rest

July 19, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.

Well, we are a small group these days as summer flies by. I am hopeful people are getting some rest. Between COVID and trying to make a living, things have been pretty stressful for quite a while now. I am hopeful that we can continue to make progress against the virus and that we can return to a place of safety for all people. However, I am particularly concerned for the doctors and nurses that have been working incredible hours and risking their lives for the last year and a half. I especially pray for them as we watch the number of unvaccinated people getting sick as this new version of the virus takes hold and hospitalizations increase.

Rest, and the importance of rest, is what I want to chat with you about today. To get us started here is a quick story about a guy attempting to get some rest. First though a story about a fellow off on his vacation.

He had been driving all night and by morning was still far from his destination. He decided to stop at the next city he came to, and park somewhere quiet so he could get an hour or two of sleep. As luck would have it, the quiet place he chose happened to be on one of the city's major jogging routes. No sooner had he settled back to snooze when there came a knocking on his window.

He looked out and saw a jogger running in place. “Yes?” “Excuse me, sir,” the jogger said, “do you have the time?”

The man looked at the car clock and answered, “8:15”. The jogger said thanks and left. The man settled back again, and was just dozing off when there was another knock on the window and another jogger. “Excuse me, sir, do you have the time?” “8:25!” The jogger said thanks and left.

Now the man could see other joggers passing by and he knew it was only a matter of time before another one disturbed him. To avoid the problem, he got out a pen and paper and put a sign in his window saying, “I do not know the time!” Once again, he settled back to sleep. He was just dozing off when there was another knock on the window.

“Sir, sir? It's 8:45!”

If we pay attention to the Ten Commandments, we are confronted with one of the ten that tells us to keep holy the Sabbath day. For the few of you that don’t know this, the Sabbath begins at sundown on Friday and ends as the sun goes down on Saturday evening. During that period of time, we are asked to rest and recoup from the week just past. We can enjoy each other’s company, read, watch some TV, take naps, have a nice meal or two, and think about our God. The big thing is that we are to refrain from working.

Now if you remember, Jesus argued quite a bit about the rules for Sabbath observance with those in charge in his day. Simply put he was injecting a little common sense into the rules for Sabbath. Conduct had become more important than the people. He wanted everyone to remember that God created Sabbath for the people, not vice versa.

Now if God, who created us, thinks we are well served by a day off every seven days why do we have such a hard time following God’s suggestion? The fact is most of us don’t follow God’s suggestion at all.

The guy chatting with you is as big an offender as anybody. I’m also preaching to myself. The Romans would have loved me. They believed in gravitas, a way of living, part of which demands we work seven days a week. The Romans simply couldn’t understand those Israelites who demanded a day off every seven days. Well, it seems to me, in this modern age of faster and faster, more and more, all of us are being asked to be available all the time, 24/7. Welcome to the Merry-Go-Round.

So, let’s imagine. What would happen if we put our own welfare a little higher on the list of things to be accomplished? It’s a different answer for each of us, but in our heart of hearts we know things would not fall apart. The simple fact is that we can’t break the habit of being available all the time. I submit we fight our own tendencies more than anything else.

Bishop Anderson, who passed away a few years ago, a wonderful man, used to suggest we take a calendar and circle one or two days a month. Those were days we were intentionally not going to be available. The were to be days off. For me that would be a Bill day. I tried it a few times. The work still got done and those that tried to contact me waited a day to talk to me and that turned out to be fine. However, I also confess that I have lost the habit to the business disease. It has slowly taken back over. I wonder how that happened.

Would it make sense to use Jesus as our example for living once again? He honored the Sabbath in his own way. I think it was a really big deal to him and he knew how helpful Sabbath might be if honored in the way God intended. He also took time off to pray and be alone. He spent time with his friends. He rested.

And let’s think about what we might gain if we took some time for ourselves? Probably we would find we have a more positive attitude a lot more often. We would probably be more efficient in everything we did. Our relationships with those we love and the world around us would be in better shape for sure. Our relationship with God would be more meaningful. I get the feeling every facet of life would be improved.

Hmmmm. As I think about it maybe it’s worth another try.

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost: Prophets

July 12, 2021 Andrea Schmid

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

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 Sixth Sunday after Pentecost: Making a Difference

July 6, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

Mark 6:1-13

Jesus came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

Happy Fourth to you this morning. We can’t help but think of our country this morning and I want to start off by telling a story. I know that a joke is often expected but today it’s a story. I am going to read it to you if you don’t mind.

I was at the corner grocery store buying some potatoes. I noticed a small boy, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller, the store owner, and the ragged boy next to me.

“Hello Barry, how are you today?”

“H’lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Them peas sure look good!”

“They are good, Barry. How’s your Ma?”

“Fine. Gittin’ stronger alla’ time.”

“Good. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, Sir… jus’ admirin’ them peas.”

“Would you like to take some home?” asked Mr. Miller.

“No, Sir. Got nuthin’ to pay for ’em with.”

“Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?”

“All I got’s my prize marble here.”

“Is that right? Let me see it.” said Miller.

“Here ’tis. She’s a dandy.”

“I can see that. Hmm mmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?” the store owner asked.

“Not zackley but almost.”

“Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble.” Mr. Miller told the boy.

“‘Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.”

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.

With a smile she said, “There are two other boys like him in our community. All three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.” “When they come back with their red marbles – and they always do – he decides he doesn’t like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.”

I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.

Isn’t that a great story? Here’s a man making a difference in the smallest of ways but making a huge difference in a few people’s lives.

So, as we heard this story it might be worthwhile to figure out what our relationship is to it. Am I the store owner, or the one who thinks he is wasting his time and money, or maybe I just couldn’t care less?

You see I guess there are three kinds of people when it comes to making a difference. One helps out where he can, another criticizes the lack of effectiveness and futility of the effort, and another walks on by or finds the store owner a little nuts if they think about them at all.

I think it’s fair to say Jesus was a difference maker. Don’t you think? He is the reason we have eternal life. But people found him a little crazy, and irritating too. The Pharisees and others in power found him a lot irritating and hard to understand. I can just hear them talking with one another. “What is up anyway with these ideas that if you want to be the greatest you must be the servant of all?” And we know from the rest of the story told about Jesus; being the biggest difference maker in history got him in some pretty serious trouble before it was all over with. Some loved him. A few hated him. And I am sure many couldn’t have cared less about him.

Let’s turn to today’s gospel and think about being a difference maker as we consider it. There are really two stories within the passage read this morning. One is a story concerning Jesus returning to his hometown, and the other is about people being sent out two by two to spread the gospel. Both stories have similar versions in the gospels of Matthew and Luke so I will include a little of those as we go along.

As the gospel begins Jesus has returned to his hometown, Nazareth, and gone to the synagogue on the Sabbath. We also know that he has been living in Capernaum since leaving home. Apparently word of the things he was doing and teaching had reached the hometown ears.

So, on that famous morning he stood up and began to read from the Isaiah scroll about the coming messiah. Then he looked up at the listening crowd when he finished reading and said to them that this day the prediction had been fulfilled in their hearing.

Apparently, he did a few other fascinating things there because they began to talk among themselves about him. “Who is this? Isn’t this the carpenter’s son? And aren’t these his four brothers, his mother, and his sisters? We heard about the things he was doing in Capernaum, but come on, this is Jesus. We know Jesus. He works with his hands. He may be a number of things but we don’t see him as any sort of messiah.”

And so, the gospel tells us he could do very little healing because of their unbelief, and in the gospel of Luke they got so upset with him they tried to throw him off a cliff. Here is the most important change agent in the history of the world and their reaction is to refuse to believe what they were seeing with their own eyes, or hearing with their own ears. They even got so angry with what they saw and what they understood as his come uppity attitude they tried to kill him. Welcome home Jesus.

In the second story read Jesus is sending out the disciples two by two to spread the good news. He tells them not to take anything with them, just one cape, very little in terms of clothes, a pair of sandals, no money, and no food. They were to go from village to village, from house to house, and rely on the hospitality of those they encountered for their survival.

Now what I find interesting is that Jesus knew they wouldn’t be accepted everywhere. They might be carrying the best news anyone would ever hear, news that is as life changing as news gets, but they would not always be welcomed. Doors would be slammed in their faces.

He even told them to stomp the dust from their feet in testimony against the houses that refused to welcome them and move on. Each pair a change agent, each pair sometimes rejected.

There is a lesson in all of this for us. We too carry with us the reality that is Jesus Christ. We understand the good news of his life, death, and resurrection. We live in a world that drifts further and further from the ethics of love and servanthood that Jesus taught.

We are asked to be difference makers. We are expected to go into the world and tell others the good news of the Kingdom of God; that the Kingdom of God has come near in the person of Jesus Christ. That Jesus makes a difference in every life.

No, not everybody is going to hear us. No not everybody is interested. No not everybody is even going to like us. No, we can’t change our country or the world. Some will tell us our work is futile. But like that fellow helping out those three kids with some groceries occasionally, the ones that do listen will be grateful, their lives will be enhanced, and perhaps they will join with us as we introduce Jesus Christ and preach the Kingdom of God to one person at a time.

And speaking about Mr. Miller as we did earlier, here is the rest of his story.

He passed on as all of us will, and I was standing with his wife as three young men stopped together at his casket and then left, tears in their eyes. Mrs. Miller continued to speak to me.

“Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They told me how they appreciated the things Jim ‘traded’ them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size, they came to pay their debt.”

“We’ve never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,” she confided, “but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho.”

With loving gentleness, she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.