May 17, 2015

Seventh Sunday of Easter

Acts 1: 15 – 17, 21-26; Psalm 1; 1 John 5: 9-13; John 17: 6 - 19

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Two stories I want to share with you. The first is untrue, but it is at least humorous. The story involves two young enterprising church evangelists – let’s just say they’re two young women. They are in the process of going from door to door down a street in a neighborhood, knocking on doors, handing out Bibles, sharing their faith.

When they arrive at a house they knock on the front door.  Before the door is answered they hear the crying of children in the house and an adult voice yelling “give the toy back to your brother!” The door opens and the two young women see an older woman holding a baby in one hand, with two other crying children hanging onto her legs. There’s dirty laundry on the floor, milk spilled on the kitchen table, and the father is nowhere to be seen.

The first young woman says, “Ma’am we’re here to tell you about the gift of eternal life.” And the mother looks at the two evangelists and says. “Are you crazy? Look at my house! Why would I want to have to live like this forever!”

Second story – and this one is true. My brother, my sister, and I were with my mother in front of a Luby’s Cafeteria in the 1970’s while my dad was parking the car. It was evening, and we were going to have dinner. I was a baby at the time which meant I was just probably going to smear jello all over my tray.  Apparently, I was in my mother’s arms, probably crying, my brother, only a few years older than me at the time, was pulling away from my mom while my sister pulling her in the opposite direction and also crying about something. A man drove by in an El Camino, slowed down, rolled the window down, saw the desperate look on my mother’s face.  He leaned out the window and in what just may be the most unhelpful statement ever said he asked my mother, “hey lady, haven’t you ever heard of birth control?”

Life is complicated.  We are pulled in many different directions, trying to meet so many different needs, raising children, going to work, paying bills. We go about our work whether that is at home or outside the home, we do our best to maintain friendships, to do the right thing, and all of it can leave us, well – exhausted.  The idea of doing this for all eternity is not really all that appealing, to be honest.

I believe the author of 1 John knew this.  In the part of the 1 John we hear today, eternal life is described in a new and refreshing way. The author writes in v. 12: “Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.” When I hear that initially, my first response is to say “I disagree – I don’t like that” because I am uncomfortable with exclusionary statements, especially the religious kind. Who gave us the right to determine who has eternal life, anyway? But then I read it again.

When I read the verse the second time, I don’t see them as exclusionary at all. That is because I understand the words “Whoever has the Son has life,” to mean any person that chooses to live their life in the way that Jesus did, will have true life, a kind of life that never ends. A kind of life that not even death can end.    

What kind of life did Jesus live? It seemed to be the kind of life that was not governed by fear or anxiety, but rather grounded in love, hope, humility and compassion. Make no mistake – it is not an easy life, but nowhere in the Bible are we promised that eternal life is easy.  

That might come as a discomfort to some of you, but to me, I am grateful.  Philosopher Carl Jung once said “People need difficulties; they are necessary for health.” I don’t want to romanticize struggle or difficulty. The wake of the bombing of the Boston marathon, and the sentence given last week, is beyond our ability to fathom. The pain and difficulty coming from that event is unquantifiable. Even so – is not able to bring blessing and goodness out of the darkest moments of our national life?   

I don’t believe that God intends for us to feel pain. I believe our pain and suffering mostly arises as we slowly learn the futility of our self-will. Without romanticizing struggle, we are all aware that struggle - even suffering - brings us in touch with the God who created us in a powerfully intimate way. The prayer book’s way of describing this phenomenon is that after we die our lives move “from strength to strength,” meaning that even in eternity, we continue to grow and learn.  

Zen Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hahn, now in his eighties, spoke about his concept of Nirvana, and expressed a similar hope – that Nirvana, let’s call it heaven, would not be entirely blissful, for that would invite decay. In an interview several years ago Thich Nhat Hahn rather expressed hope that there would be suffering in the world to come, because it is from suffering that eternal beauty and compassion grow.  These words are spoken not by a man who is immune to suffering on earth, but from a man who lived through Vietnam war in his own country, caring for the wounded soldiers on both sides – a man well versed in suffering, and ironically for him, suffering becomes not something to flee when he dies, but rather his hope for eternity.  

I should tell you how that first story ends. The two young women leave the house and look back at the older women, her children, the mess. They see the lines of struggle on her face. And they realize the mistake in coming to her home. This woman didn’t need to be bothered about eternal life – for she already lived it.  In both their minds, the young women knew silently, they had just met Jesus. AMEN.

May 14, 2015

Ascension Day

Acts 1: 1-11; Psalm 47; Ephesians 1: 15-23; Luke 24: 44-53

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Earlier this week a Pew Research Study surveyed 35,000 individuals about their religious affiliation. The results of the survey indicated that seventy percent of the respondents identified themselves as Christian, which actually seems like a pretty good number in my opinion. When compared to the results of the same survey eight years earlier, there is about an eight percent decrease. In 2007, eight years ago, seventy-eight percent of the respondents identified themselves as Christian. What accounts for this decline in the last eight years?  There are many reasons!

People point to hypocrisy in the church, which is real. They also point to Christians who are perceived as judgmental rather than compassionate. They point to the church being a patriarchal, archaic and anachronistic holdover from a bygone era.

It is this last reason I suggested, that the church is considered outdated, that I believe would be why many who label themselves “none” (N-O-N-E) on a religious identification survey would struggle with the day we are honoring today – Ascension Day.

The idea of ascending, or supernaturally floating up toward the heavens, is an ancient mythical concept that was part of the lore of a variety of gods and goddesses long before Christianity came around.  Christianity latched onto this idea, as it seemed to capture the popular imagination of the time – who wouldn’t want to fly away, leave your problems behind, like the old man does in the Pixar animated film “Up”? The closes we get to ascension is when we get into an airplane, fly up into the sky, and at least for a day or few days, leave the ordinariness of our life behind.

Admittedly, the Biblical concept of an ascension, where Jesus miraculously ascends to heaven is a bit outmoded. But we have to remember that the story about Christ’s ascent to heaven comes from a 2,000 year old world view in which people believed that heaven was literally  above us in the sky.  

But 500 years ago, Copernicus challenged the church at the time to reconcile traditional understandings  (such as Jesus ascending “up” into heaven) with the scientific worldview of the time, which was that heaven was not “up,” which, of course, got him crossways with the Catholic Church.  

There is another problem with Ascension though, and that has to do with the timing of the event.  Acts 1:3 says that after forty days of appearing to the disciples, Jesus ascended up to heaven. If you read the Bible, you might be aware that the number “forty” appears rather often. Noah and his family were in the ark forty days. The Hebrews were in the wilderness for forty years.  Moses spent forty days fasting on top of Mt. Sinai while writing the ten commandments. Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness himself.  

When the number “forty” is used in the Bible, it is like shorthand for “a long time passed,” so it doesn’t mean forty exact days – it means “awhile.” Understanding that “forty days” doesn’t necessarily mean “forty days” helps us to understand Luke’s way of telling the story of the Ascension, in which Jesus ascends to heaven on the night following Easter.

There is great irony in the Ascension: Jesus abdicates power in order to rule.  He departs from the disciples in order to be more fully present. He withdraws so he can draw all people to himself. The Ascension doesn’t take Christ out of the world, it makes Christ available to all people at all times, in all places. St. Teresa of Avila understood this clearly, as she demonstrates in a prayer she wrote centuries ago on the Ascension:

“God of love, help us to remember that Christ has no body now on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours. Ours are the eyes to see the needs of the world.  Ours are the hands with which to bless everyone now. Ours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good.” Christ’s body ascends, so that we may become Christ to those in our midst. AMEN.

May 10, 2015

VI Easter

Acts 10: 44-48; Psalm 98; 1 John 5: 1-6; John 15: 9 - 17

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Jesus shares with us the today the very heart of his teaching, which is to love one another, as we are loved by God.  This is sounds great for a Sunday School class with young children, where they color pictures of Jesus and the word “love,”  but for adults, love is more complicated. Today is Mother’s Day, a day where we celebrate the love we have for our mothers and they for us.  But today is an illustration of love’s complex nature as some of us have strained (at best) relationships with our mothers. Some of us have been wounded by our mothers, and yet Jesus calls is to love all, including those who wound us.

Jesus modeled perfect love throughout his life, but even he seems to have lost his patience with his mother at that wedding in Cana of Galilee. I believe that as a society, one of the most pressing issues we face is how we are to love one another.  

I am a product of a divorced household; a household where the kind of love Jesus talks about today was untenable. Yet I have learned over time that even divorce cannot overcome love. And not just divorce, but all our attempts to categorize people when we become upset with them because we find that easier to do than seeking to understand and love them. It is easier to harbor thoughts of prejudice, bigotry, or homophobia than it is to love a person. Love takes courage. Because if we choose to love a person, we are taking risk, and that risk is that we’ll get hurt – bad.  That pain is often the price of love.   

That kind of vulnerability might not seem very appealing to all of you, but consider the alternative.  We are living in a time when many of us find it difficult to love, because of schedules, resentments, anger. These things hurt us – they hurt us so badly that we try to do anything in our power to numb ourselves to that deep pain. For some of us the answer to a lack of love in our lives is an affair. Others of us choose to numb ourselves with alcohol, prescription or illegal drugs, pornography, or any other kind of addictive behavior.  

The good news about this bad news is that Jesus knows us better than we know ourselves. Jesus knows about our selfishness, our addictive behaviors, our misplaced anger, and the list goes on and on - and in spite of what Jesus knows about us, he loves us. None of that matters to him. And we are challenged to love accordingly. It’s an impossible task – but when we love one another without expectation for return or any strings attached we are like Christ.  

Jesuit paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin believed that the natural movement of God’s creation is toward what he calls Christogenesis, toward becoming Christ – and that every act of our daily lives has the potential of moving the world toward Christ’s kingdom.  If God is love, and Christ is in God, then every act of love increases Christ’s sway on the universe.

What power we have when we love!  Do you believe a single act of love you demonstrate today impacts the entire universe?  I do.  Chardin writes that “the smallest act of love causes the very marrow of the universe to vibrate.”

I believe these acts of love move the universe in such a way as Chardin describes because they are so difficult to do, and when they happen, are a big deal.  Jesus asks us to love one another without fear, without resentment, without judgment. That, my friends, is no easy task. And yet doing so, changes the entire universe.

Jesus challenges us to love others even when they are power hungry. To love others when they are inconsiderate, when they are angry and when they lash out blindly. We are called by Jesus to love others when they are selfish or insensitive, hateful, or blind to the needs of others.   

This is not easy to do. But today is Mother’s Day. Regardless of whether your mother is alive or she has joined the communion of saints, regardless of what your relationship is toward her, the fact is at one point in history, a woman cared for you, and raised you, nursed you, changed your diaper – why?  Because she loved you. Because you are a part of her, and she a part of you. Your mother in every way was Jesus to you.

This connection between mother and Jesus was not lost upon the fourteenth century saint Julian of Norwich, who said: “Jesus is our true Mother in nature by our first creation. And he is our true mother in grace by taking our created nature…He is our Mother, brother and savior.”   

The love of Mother Jesus, as St. Julian describes, casts out all fear, melts all prejudice, and dispels all ignorance. It is the most powerful force in the universe, and God has placed this power of love into the palm of your hand. What will you do with it? AMEN.

May 3, 2015

V Easter

ACTS 8:26-40; PSALM 22:24-30; 1 JOHN 4:7-21; JOHN 15:1-8

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THE REV. CARISSA BALDWIN-MCGINNIS

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  This is the first verse of the psalm for today - psalm 22.  Another faithful translation would be, “My God, my God, why have you left me?”  This is Jewish poetry that Jesus is said to have cried out at the time of his crucifixion.  It is a sentiment that also bellows from the the dark nights of our own souls.  Dark nights of the soul are spiritual seasons in which we can not find our true self, our life force or even our God.  In these times it can seem as if there is neither past nor future, while the present is pure agony.  Dark nights of the soul are understood by some in the faith tradition to be the true manifestation of Hell.  

You can hear a dark night soul’s lament in the poetry of Katie Ford, who writes as a mother about her premature babe.  She conveys that the baby was born with barely enough substance to register on a weight scale much less to survive.  She describes the weightless weight of her human child in terms of dimes, paperclips, and teaspoons of sugar.  The baby is, she declares, a “child of grams.”

For the child is born an unbreathing scripture
and her broken authors wait
on one gurney together.
And what is prayer from a gurney
but lantern-glow for God or demon
to fly toward the lonely in this deathly hour

Her words depict an obviously terrifying and and seemingly desolate place “Of a Child Early Born.”  Prayer from a gurney, she says, might have been dangerous.  It might have been like shining a light for death to find her family in which case it was better not to pray.

Many of us understand her.  We have felt in our spiritually desolate seasons that it is better not to pray lest we in attempting to attract the force that gives life instead invoke the force that takes it away.  A child early born, depression, separation from employment, infidelity, chronic illness, the death of a parent can all bring on dark spiritual seasons in which our life force is overwhelmed and in which we we become weak and feel defenseless.  Often in those seasons we also feel confusion about who God is or what God should be - or is or is not doing for us.  This can feel like a crisis of faith on top of a crisis of psychology or spirituality.

The baby’s mother essentially says, “Why pray?!  It can only attract death.”  She calls her child an “unbreathing scripture” as if the baby’s predicament is evidence that the promise of faith has no life.  But in so doing she is telling the story of her fear and desolation in faith terms.  Her ambivalence about prayer is a prayer.  Though we rarely perceive it at the time, people of faith most often look back and observe that God and faith are in fact to have been found dwelling in the vacancies of our strength and our hope.

The ancient, Jewish poet of psalm 22 describes a similar agony.

I am poured out like water,
  and all my bones are out of joint;
my heart is like wax;
  it is melted within my breast;
my mouth is dried up like a piece of rock,
  and my tongue sticks to my jowls;
(yet) you (God) (are the one who) lay(s) me in the dust of death

You, God, are the one who makes our bed in times of desolation.  “You don’t abandon”, says the psalmist.  “You accompany.”  Faith is not a matter of belief statements.  Faith is matter of how we tell our stories both in times of glory and in times of desolation.

Sometimes, we suffer collective or communal dark nights of the soul.  A family may grieve together the loss of a loved one.  A high school community may suffer shock in a case of a youth who has taken his or her own life.  Many of us in the United States are experiencing a dark night of our collective soul as we discover that the system slavery was not dismantled but rather replaced by a system of mass incarceration.

This painful discover is the revelation that Michelle Alexander, lawyer and author, has been teaching as she has travelled our nation for a few, short years.  In her work she has peeled back for us the lid from history to unveil a direct link from centuries ago plantation enslavement of black and immigrant labor to the present day policing and incarceration of people - and I will add children - of color.  If you have not studied this phenomenon for yourself beyond what you are getting from the nightly news, I encourage you to do so.  The book is titled,  “The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Color Blindness.”  As we grieve Baltimore and the homicide of Marcus Gray we suffer knowing that they are only the latest manifestation of this truth which seems unwilling to be suppressed any longer and which is busting through all over the skin of our society.

I leave us with what I read to be a love letter from a black mother who with her white husband is raising their black son in the City of Baltimore.  This was written the morning following the violence and looting that came in tandem with the death of Freddie Gray.  She writes:

It's a beautiful day in my neighborhood. I can see a rainbow of all classes and races and backgrounds out on the stoops of marble and stone. I/We congregate in OK Natural Foods, Neal's Hair Studio, Spirits Wine Store, Jo Ann's Eatery, The Bun Shop, Eddie's Grocery Store, and a new pottery studio. I/We  stop to shake hands, hug, kiss, laugh… just say "hi".

I/We show up with trash bags and brooms to help with the clean up in the places that we affected on a scale ranging from minor to major.

The sounds of sirens waft in the background along with (the) hum of the choppers. I/We know what happened last night, and there is uncertainty as to what is to come. One thing I/we do know and feel is the palpable love that I/we, the citizens of Baltimore, feel for our city.

This is where I live, and this is where I am becoming one of many stitches mending unrest and restoring peace, one step and one day at a time.

May our uncertainty be our prayer, an may our love be our praises in this temple and at this difficult time.

April 26, 2015

IV Easter

Acts 4: 5-12; Psalm 23; 1 John 3: 16-24; John 10: 11-18

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

As a young boy, I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona. My closest friend was a classmate of mine from kindergarten, named Thomas Arnold, but we all knew him as “Tres,” because his full name was Thomas Arnold, the third, named after his father and after his grandfather. Like so many boys at that young age, Tres and I were inseparable, spending the night at each other’s houses, riding bikes, getting in trouble together at school.  

When I was ten years old, I moved back to Houston, and was sad to be moving away from Tres. He was my best friend at the time.  I didn’t realize it then, but looking back now, I remember Tres had a temper. He would get angry, and sometimes would become inconsolable. At those times, I remember not understanding his anger, or why he felt the way he did.  

As years went by, Tres and I gradually fell out of contact, and rarely, if ever communicated once we were in high school. We had new friends, new schools, and new driver’s licenses. It wasn’t until my junior year in high school that I went back to Phoenix, though not to see Tres, but rather, sadly, to attend his funeral. Tres, I learned, suffered from a severe depression that drained him of life, and inflicted him with a sense of despair. It was a despair so heavy, that for Tres, there was only one way to escape it.

Almost twenty-five years later, and as a parent now, I cannot even begin to imagine what it must have been like for his parents. Out of that experience, though, Tres’ mother emerged a changed woman. Because even in the hell of that experience, she discovered that she was not alone – that God was with her.  

Her awareness of God’s presence echoes that of the author of the twenty-third psalm, who writes “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me.”  I have heard from many people that their greatest fear is not dying, but being alone. We are wired to be connected with one another – it is in our DNA.  

We desire and want authentic friendship that is not based on who or what others want us to be – we want people to be connected to us for who we honestly are. When I pray the words of Psalm 23, and say “I fear no evil for you are with me,” for a long time I have understood the “you” to be God. And it surely is.

But as I read the psalm now, I understand the word “you” differently. Yes it refers to God, but it also refers to you (pointing).   It is a prayer for companionship. Because we are with God when we are with each other. That’s called solidarity – we find ourselves drawn into God’s life when we are drawn into the lives of others, friends, neighbors, and strangers.

Tres’ mother and father stumbled into a valley of death. The author of the psalm knows this world. There is no promise here of life without enemies or evil.  Instead, in this very valley, surrounded by enemies and death, God builds a table. – a place for fellowship and communion, for being with God and one another. Around the table, that is where God happens.  

As a church we practice a stubborn hope, the stubbornness of building tables wherever we find ourselves – no matter how precarious our lives, we do what God does: make room for people at the table so that they too may grow into eternal life. That’s what the church is: a table where all are welcome to sit and rest in God’s love.  

In the valley Tres’ parents found themselves in, they built a table. His mother, Kimball, was later ordained a Deacon in the Episcopal Church where she now serves in Arizona. She continues to practice resurrection through her work as a grief counselor, working with parents and children who have faced unspeakable loss. She is to those people experiencing unimaginable pain an icon of God’s presence in the darkest valley, a reminder that no valley is too dark for God.

Today you might find yourself in a dark valley.  If so, look around, because I guarantee someone has been in that valley before you. That person has built a table in that valley, and there is a seat with your name on it. And at that table all are welcome to eat and drink God’s life in that place where there is no need to fear any evil, for God was in the valley long before you ever arrived. AMEN.

April 19, 2015

Easter III-B 2015

Acts 3:12-19; Psalm 4; I John 3: 1-7; Like 24: 36-48

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THE REV. PORTIA SWEET

We continue in this Eastertide to read stories of Jesus' post resurrection appearances among his disciples and it is not always easy to understand  how these can relate to our lives today. There are many theological writings, many thoughtful as well as some rather preposterous theories about these stories. One entire weekend of spiritual encounter is held to journey the Road to Emmaus. By comparison, what can be said in a brief Sunday morning homily is only one or two small nuggets.  I urge you to take these rich readings home with you today and re-read and meditate on them throughout the week.

The reading from Acts is from a sermon Peter gave after he and John had healed a lame beggar near the temple in Jerusalem. This was a man whom others carried each day to his post, where he lay on his mat and begged.  Much like the story of Jesus' healing in a similar situation, Peter and John told the man they had no alms to give him, but would give what they had- the gift from the Holy Spirit of healing, the ability to be a conduit of God's healing grace. The man received their gift and got up and walked away. The witnessing crowd was astounded, causing Peter to make the remarks we just read.

Peter asked them, "Why do you wonder at this as though it were our own piety or power that made this man walk?"  He then summarizes the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, fully human and fully divine, and points out they were eye-witnesses to it all. Further, that these things were fulfillment of the scriptures and prophesies with which all Jews were familiar.

In his various appearances, exampled by the Gospel reading from Luke this morning, Jesus does some very normal things. He eats with them; he talks with them;  and he shows them his wounds, scars of his suffering and unconditional love. And Jesus does some very unusual things, like walking through walls and locked doors. His appearance has changed, yet through his words and actions, they recognize him. And this is key.

You see, Jesus repeatedly emphasizes to them the importance of breaking bread together and of taking the message of God's unfailing love and promise of forgiveness and salvation to everyone. He makes it clear that we are all to be conduits of that love and tellers of the story.

Now at that time in the early first century, Christians were horribly persecuted by the Romans, and at least disdained by the Jews. Being a Jesus Follower was a very risky business. We get this when we read that the disciples were frightened, the doors were locked, and they hid from public view. Yet, they believed in what they had lived and they proceeded to form ministries, help one another, and spread the story near and far. And it is because they did so that you and I today have the story available to us in the scriptures, our prayer book, and our music.

Today, we Christians are also under attack. Make no mistake, friends, in most regions of the globe, it is risky business in 2015 to profess belief in Christ. Here in our own country one can no longer assume that others understand the tenets of Christianity and there are times and places where discussion of faith is deemed inappropriate and other times and places where it is illegal. Many of our laws, customs and mores, initially based on the Judeo/Christian model of justice and morality have been diluted and eroded. Within my lifetime, this has come to be so.

This is why it is very important that we gather as a community on a regular basis as the early Christians did, to remember and recite our beliefs, to break bread together in remembrance and in the presence of our Lord, to seek forgiveness for our wrong doings and to encourage one another in our journeys through love - the kind of love which Jesus brought, taught, and lived.

The Israelites literally took up arms against enemies of God, as did the crusaders and others, who were self-appointed judges of who was an enemy. Jesus, however, said to spread our arms in love to honor and respect the dignity of every person, as we are all children of God. He said, love your enemies. To do this, we must not leave the impact, whatever it may be, of this hour of worship in the Narthex when we leave. Rather, we are to take it to the streets, to our homes, to work tomorrow, to wherever life takes us this week, and by golly, share it, as conduits of this grace, with each person we meet through what we say and how we behave. We, like Jesus, can do this through very ordinary acts: how we speak to another, for example. Do we speak as though we truly pray they are filled with God's Peace? Do we share meals, time together, thoughts and conversations?

And we can do some rather unusual things to bear witness to our faith. I say unusual because I think most of us do not do these on a daily basis. We can perform random acts of kindness like paying forward someone's meal or groceries. We can be really radical and invite someone to church! Oh yeah, it is done. And we need to recognize that the enemy is NOT groups of people. The enemy is injustice. We need to be asking, "Why are so many people nearby in need of food assistance and subsidized housing and decent wages?" It is the reasons behind those conditions that Christians need to rise up against, seeking justice for the voiceless.

If some end up wondering how you do it; how you smile and remain calm when there is anger floating everywhere; how you strive to do the right thing even if it costs you financially, in popularity or in other ways; how you are kind and compassionate to everybody - when they wonder, remember Peter's sermon. By faith in the Name of Christ, you are able to remain his follower.

Jesus came to transform us - change our hearts. One of the bases of the Rule of Benedict is Conversion. Simply put, this means change of heart. Our lifelong spiritual journeys, lived as Jesus followers, are made up of conversion experiences; that is, moments of meeting Christ in others wherever we are. But we must venture out a bit to experience this gift of conversion. You have to make appearances.

I have the privilege of helping to form an alliance of clergy from the other churches located nearby. We are small and we are diverse in how we worship. Yet we are Christ followers and respect, actually embrace and learn from our differences. This is the body that is sponsoring the Blessing of Soles next week, and we are look at how we might serve(read, show Christ's love) to the many segments of Heights population through an event that focuses on health and spirituality. As we discuss this, we can imagine many, many ways in which transformative encounters might occur. You are invited to inquire and come, be a part.

This is the promise: In the end, no matter what this age entails, each of us will have a place in God's heavenly kingdom. As God glorified Christ in baptism, suffering, death and resurrection,  so too, we may be glorified through Christ. It is, therefore, important that we give conscious thought and intention to living a Christ-like life, befitting this promise. And it is important that we, as a faith community, come often together to learn, share, worship, encourage, and love one another as Christ loves us.

Brother John of the Society of Jesus has said,"

"Listen to me. You HAVE to decide what you believe to be the most important work in the world and then you have to DO THAT WORK. Because THIS is what happens. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS. God shows up."

AMEN.

April 5, 2015 - 10:30 Service

Easter Sunday

Acts 10: 34-43; 1 Corinthians 15: 1-11; Mark 16: 1-8

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Happy Easter!

I want to say that right of the bat because the reading we just heard from Mark just doesn’t sound very “Eastery.” It just comes to a complete stop with everyone running away from the tomb afraid – it leaves with this cliffhanger of an ending. What happened to the women who ran away from the tomb?  What about the disciples – where do they go? Fortunately in the age of Netflix, cliffhanger endings aren’t so bad anymore – you finish one episode of Sons of Anarchy or Breaking Bad where it leaves you hanging, you can just pull up the very next episode and start watching again. Problem solved!

But it wasn’t always this way. My first experience with  cliffhanger endings was as a child watching a two part episode of the Brady Bunch in the 1980s. In the episode, the Brady family travels to Hawaii for a vacation. While there, the oldest son, Greg, played by actor Barry Williams, goes surfing and his parents and siblings are watching him surf along the waves until the very end of the episode, when this giant wave comes crashing down upon him, and all you see is the surf board, floating in the ocean. Greg Brady is nowhere to be seen.  And then those three awful words appear on the screen – TO BE CONTINUED. It felt like a betrayal to my eleven year-old heart.  How could they just stop the story there?

For a whole week I anxiously awaited the next episode of the Brady Bunch to learn of poor Greg Brady’s fate. Did he survive the tidal wave? Was he eaten by a shark? Well, you’re just going to have to find out for yourself, because I’m not going to tell you.  Just kidding! Greg Brady survived his surfing accident.

Today cliffhanger endings are common place, whether in movies or television shows. And they are much older than select Brady Bunch or Happy Days episodes. I don’t know when the first recorded cliffhanger ending occurred, but I would wager that the story we heard today from Mark’s Gospel is certainly a qualified contender.   

Mark leaves us hanging with that last sentence we heard this morning: “So they [the women] went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

That’s how the story, at least according to Mark, originally ended. That is the very end of Mark’s Gospel originally. No mention of Easter Eggs, marshmellow peeps, or chocolate rabbits. Just fear that first Easter morning. It’s kind of a downer ending, and I gather it wasn’t really popular, because  some years later, a second ending was added on, one we didn’t hear today, but a few more verses of chapter 16 in Mark that attempt to put a more positive spin on things, rather than having everybody anxiously fleeing the tomb.  

It is a cliff hanger ending if there ever was one. What happened to Jesus? Or his mother, Mary? What about the disciples – where do they go?  None of these questions are answered. Reading Mark’s Gospel and coming to the end with all these unanswered questions is almost as frustrating as it was for me to watch six seasons of the TV show “Lost” only to arrive at the end of it with more questions. What ever happened to Walt? Who put that weird statue on the island?  (Apologies to anyone who hasn’t watched the show) Today I find myself more comfortable with Mark’s sudden ending. I’m okay with everybody running away scared, because I know that’s not the end of the story.  

This Holy Week I have made a new friend – it’s a dove that sits upon the branch of a crape myrtle tree just outside my office window. I noticed the same thing during Holy Week last year, too.  He (or she) stays in the tree for Holy Week, and then leaves and flies somewhere else. Is it the same dove from last year? Who knows.  But - the dove was outside my window as I wrote this sermon, and somehow it served as a reminder that Mark’s ending is not a cliffhanger – the story that ends on chapter 16 doesn’t really end there.

I say that because the dove outside my window reminded me that we are the next part of the story Mark begins. Yes, the women run away out of fear, but look at all of us here this morning. Your presence here proves to the world that Mark’s story doesn’t end where the Bible says it does. We are the next chapter – let’s call it chapter 17 - and it is a Gospel story we get to write, where we get to tell the stories of lives changed, of hope found, and most importantly, the fact that we are not alone, because God is with us and in us.

There is a dove sitting outside your life on a branch, and that dove is God’s spirit, which will never end, it always will be with you. The story Mark told needed to end so that your Easter story could begin. Where will you go when you leave the church today? Hopefully you don’t flee in fear!  I wonder, what story will you tell?  

God’s Easter blessing be upon you and your families this day. May you be blessed with courage to tell your story, giving it to the God who replaces cliffhangers with a Divine story that never ends. AMEN.

April 5, 2015 - 8:30 Service

Easter Sunday

ACTS 10: 34-43; 1 CORINTHIANS 15: 1-11; MARK 16: 1-8

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THE REV. PORTIA SWEET

Alleluia! Christ is Risen! We sing this joyous music and gather among all this springtime beauty to listen to a tale of great mystery. I think most of us like a mystery. There are certainly an overabundance of them on TV, in novels, and in real life. Whodunit? Que paso? Where is Sherlock when you need him?

As Christians, we make no attempt to disguise the fact that our faith involves mystery. Holy Mystery. Although human beings have evolved physically and mentally over the centuries, we are still human, and we have not conquered the world of the divine. Easter is one of those mysteries.

What is not a mystery is whether Jesus died on that cross. Pilate, who condemned him to die asked his own witnesses if indeed Jesus was dead before he, Pilate, agreed to release the body for burial .And his own men testified that Jesus was indeed dead. In most cases, crucified bodies remained on public view on their crosses as a deterrent to further testing of empirical authority by the public. Christ's dead body was taken down, wrapped in a cloth and placed in a new tomb, which was then closed by a large stone. Since by this time, it was very near the beginning of the Sabbath when all Jews had to be off the streets and no activities were to be carried out, The proper rituals of anointing were left for later.

It is the following day then, when the mystery begins to unfold. The women who had followed Jesus throughout his ministry on earth went to perform those rituals. They worried a bit about how they were going to get that heavy stone out of the way. So, when they arrived and discovered that someone had already removed the stone, they had to be surprised, stunned, perhaps frightened? Well certainly all of the above when they then saw a young man dressed in dazzling white clothes sitting nearby and no body was in the tomb. This mysterious messenger informed the shocked women that Jesus has gone and will meet up with them and the men in Galilee, just as he said he would do. Jesus had work to do and was not going to hang around.

In all the Gospel stories and other writings we do not have any account of what happened inside that tomb. We do not know the precise details. However the resurrection happened, it is a mystery. It was an Act of God. It was the fulfillment of a promise Jesus, God Incarnate, made before his death. But it did happen. I find it interesting that Mark ends this Gospel by saying the women told no one. Yet they had to tell or we would not have, as Paul Harvey used to say, "The rest of the story." There are various scholarly theories as to why this gospel ends this way and whether it actually does end here, But all that is another sermon. Important for us today is that the event was told, and told and told again.

How do I know it happened? And how can I be sure if I do not know how it happened? Do I not have an inquiring mind? Well, we have two additional readings of Scripture this morning, from two other sources, which testify to the fact of the Resurrection. And neither of these sources were in the tomb with Jesus.

He will meet them in Galilee as he told them. Why Galilee? Well, Jesus' ministry began with his baptism, near Galilee. Many of his acts of healing, times of teaching and acts of feeding the crowds occurred in Galilee. At least some of his closest followers were from Galilee. So what could be a more fitting place to gather than in Galilee and to live into the next chapter?

Jesus did meet his frightened band of followers. In all, he appeared several times and in several situations to them and others in the next six weeks. Luke records in the Book of Acts that Peter states "God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.  The risen Lord appeared to Paul later in yet another mysterious event on the Road to Damascus. Paul was so transformed by the encounter that he believed and proclaimed the resurrection to all whom he met. Both Peter and Paul believed so completely in the Resurrection of Jesus, they died for their faith.

The message Mark brings us is that Jesus is not buried in a national cemetery. Jesus had work to do immediately - a word famously associated with the writer of this Gospel. Jesus was on yet another mission, and he has sent us also on a mission. We are not to look for Jesus in museums, cemeteries, old books, or in TV scripts. We are to be in the world, among God's people, and among people who do not know God but who are loved by him nonetheless. We are commanded to carry the faith of Peter, Paul, and all the martyrs as our shield and spread the Good News. Jesus came into this world to forgive our sin and reconcile us to God, our Creator. His life and death and Resurrection were not simply one time events in the history books to be memorized then forgotten, my friends, for Our Redeemer Lives - today - now - here - in the hearts and bodies of each one who claims him.

As we shout our Alleluias and proclaim the resurrection of our Lord, we are to step beyond the tombs of our own making and get to work, as Jesus did. We are to meet our neighbors who hunger for some good news and thirst for the salvation we know. We are to show them through the way we conduct our lives what it is to be a follower of this Jesus. We will be hearing more about Jesus' Resurrection appearances in the next few weeks. We are to invite them in to hear a good mystery story, and more - to be a part of the mystery itself.  For as we share bread and wine at this altar in a few minutes, we do become part of the mystery. Go! Tell. Do not be afraid. Alleluia! Christ is Risen. Amen.

April 4, 2015

Easter Vigil

Romans 6: 3-11; Psalm 114; Mark 16:1-8

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

You may or may not know this, and the number of people here tonight compared to the capacity crowds we will have tomorrow doesn’t reflect what I am about to tell you, but tonight, The Great Vigil of Easter, is the most important service in the Christian calendar year. It is important because it is the first Eucharist of Easter, but it is important for another ancient reason.  

That reason is because Christianity is firmly rooted in Judaism – Jesus himself was Jewish. So this means that Jewish traditions are also in a way our traditions. One important tradition in the Jewish religion is Passover, which commemorates the Exodus of Israel from Egypt, a story we heard in one of our readings tonight. Specifically, Passover commemorates the sacrifice of the Passover Lamb a lamb whose blood was spread across the doors of Jewish homes in Egypt so that the angel of death would “pass over” those homes and not take the first born son.  

What does Passover have to do with tonight? Many Christians see Christ’s death and resurrection as a Passover moment. In other words, Christians see in Jesus that lamb whose blood spared the Hebrews in Egypt just as the death of Jesus upon the cross and his resurrection spares our lives and allows us to be truly free.

This connection between Judaism and Christianity is especially evident during the Eucharist, when the priest takes the bread, the body of Christ, breaks it, and says the words “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us.”  

The connection between what we call Easter and Passover is so strong that in every language besides English, the same word is used for the Jewish Passover and Christian Easter. The word is “pascha,” and it means Passover.  It is from this word, pascha, that we get the word paschal, which is the name of this candle – we call it the Paschal Candle. It signifies to us the very light of Christ which leads us upon our journey as the pillar of fire led the Hebrew people in the wilderness.

This Paschal candle is a reminder to us of Christ’s own Passover from death into life, which we celebrate at this first Easter service. The Paschal Candle is lit during all services in the Easter season and also at all baptisms and funerals.  This year we made a change with our Paschal Candle. In years past we have used an oil candle, like the ones upon the altar, because they don’t melt and spill wax on the floor and create a nightmare for the altar guild.  

But this year we have wax Paschal candle, which is more fragile than an oil candle because it will age, and over the next year as it melts, it will look different.  Hopefully, it won’t spill wax onto the floor! The work of this candle is to burn in the service of God. It will be with us all year, until the next Easter Vigil service, when we light a new Paschal Candle. The candle is a special candle for us, a reminder of the Paschal mystery – which is Christ’s death, descent among the dead, and his resurrection to everlasting life.  

The Paschal Candle reminds us of the power of Christ’s eternal light which shines in this church now, and more importantly, shines in our hearts.  We began our service in darkness, and now in the midst of the first Easter, we are awash in brilliant paschal light. Let your light so shine before all women and men that they may see your good works which glorify God in heaven.  AMEN.

April 4, 2015

Good Friday

Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 4:14-16; John 18:1 – 19:42

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Almost twenty years ago I visited the city of Jerusalem. I was with my brother, and we stayed in an old hotel in a makeshift structure that was positioned atop the roof that gave us an excellent view of the Dome of the Rock. One day, on a Friday, we visited the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, a church built centuries ago under the orders of Helena, the mother of the Roman emperor Constantine. Helena believed the hill upon which this church was later built was the very hill on which Jesus was crucified.

Walking into this ancient church I stood amazed, looking at the various groups of people gathered there from all around the world. Priests, bishops, holy women and holy men all gathered around the church that day to walk the Via Dolorosa, the street many believe was the one Jesus himself walked carrying his cross to hill of Golgotha.

What sets the Church of the Holy Sepulcher apart from every other church in the world is not only claim to be built upon the hill where Jesus was crucified. It also claims to have within it the very tomb which received the body of the Messiah, and from which Jesus emerged, raised from the dead.

You can see both areas in the church, and as I walked among pilgrims and visitors from around the world, I listened to the cacophony of languages spoken: Arabic, Hebrew, English, Spanish, and French. With my eyes I gazed upon a blocked off raised area of massive rock inside the church.  The dark rock was colored from the millions of hands who had touched it over the years, and it featured a massive crack running through it, which some believe to be the very crack in the earth mentioned in the Gospel story of the crucifixion.

I looked at this ancient rock for some time, silently wondering, was Jesus crucified here? Or was it elsewhere, somewhere outside the city gates as many believe? At that time in my life, it was important to pinpoint a precise geographic location for such an event. But in the nearly twenty years that have passed, that need for a physical location does not matter nearly as much as it once did.  

What does matter to me more now is not where the crucifixion happened, but what it means. I believe Jesus died on the cross not because he was being punished, and not because God demanded it, and not because God was angry. The best explanation I can give for the crucifixion is that Jesus goes to the cross out of love. And in his willingness to do so, Jesus teaches us the power of love – that love survives all things – it survives pain, it survives anguish, it survives death.

That is why we call this day Good – today Jesus gives his life for us, not because he had to, not because he had no other choice – but because he loves us. And love knows no geographic limits.  Love cannot be pinpointed onto a map – because love is everywhere. God’s love is all around you, and it is even in that place where God chose to die for you.

I left the Church of the Holy Sepulcher with more questions than answers. I went there hoping to discover the place where Christ was crucified, and while I left unsure if it was really the place, I did feel the effect of God’s love for me in the place it mattered most – my heart. You all have come here for different reasons today – perhaps out of obligation, perhaps out of reverence, maybe just out of curiosity. Whatever the reason is why you are here, I hope you know how much God loves you – that there is no limit to that love – death itself cannot kill it. You are worth everything to God. I hope you know that. Because that is why today is called “Good Friday.”  AMEN.

April 2, 2015

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31b-35; Psalm 116:1, 10-17

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THE REV. PORTIA SWEET

Elie Wiesel wrote in an essay for Walking With God in a Fragile World, "Created in God's image, man is as alone as He is. And yet: man may and must hope; he must rise to the challenge, transcend himself until he loses or finds himself. Only God is condemned to eternal loneliness. Only God is truly, irreducibly alone."

Perhaps this idea was never more apparent than on that night when Jesus shared his last earthly meal with his disciples and then took them to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray. Yes, these followers were with him physically, but the story lets us know they hadn't a clue as to what was happening in their midst. Jesus had tried three times to explain to them what would happen when they got to Jerusalem. They were going with so many others to celebrate the Passover. Upon entering the gates, Jesus was hailed and adored by the crowds - Ride on, ride on in majesty" says the hymn. And he did. surrounded by the throngs, but alone all the while. You may recall that before entering the city, Jesus is said to have opened his arms and lamented, saying he wished he could take the people under his wings."

The synoptic Gospels have this meal we recreate tonight - and every Sunday - occurring on Passover. John, however places it as the day before the festival day. The set up has been prearranged, much like if we were to have a family gathering and needed to rent a hall and pay a caterer. It begins joyfully enough, but quickly becomes somber. Jesus begins to behave in a very odd manner. The hospitality custom would have been for the host to have his servants wash the feet of arriving guests. Wearing sandals on unpaved streets can create a lot of dirty feet that you probably do not want carried into your home.  This night, however, Jesus, the host, waits until the middle of the meal and he himself removes his robe and proceeds to wash the feet of his guests. Odd indeed.

Earlier, as they began the meal, Jesus breaks the bread and shares the cup of wine and talks about his body and blood and tells them to remember him when they eat and drink together in the future. What in the world? Has Jesus been having a few cocktails with the locals before this gathering?

No, but Jesus, in the midst of his closest friends on earth, is alone as he faces his gravest hour, his most challenging mission. And his actions are ones of the most profound love that ever was - love that is alive and available to us even today.

Peter - Ah, Peter, the one who forever blurts out the responses of the common man, the things you and I might have said had we been there. Yet Peter will become the rock upon which our church is founded.- Peter once more rebukes Jesus, claiming to be unworthy to be served by him - "You will not wash MY feet!"

A few years ago in another parish at this service, I was in line to wash and be washed. The man in front of me was a brilliant, highly respected professional man. He motioned to me to sit in the chair so he could wash my feet. When I explained that it was his turn to be served, he said, "No, I am not worthy." I was momentarily stunned. If this good and faithful man was not worthy, who was I? Then I thought, 'But he is as Peter was." and I said to him, "We are all unworthy and we are all, by God's grace, worthy".

It is on account of love that Jesus' washes his disciples' feet, and it is on account of Jesus that his followers will be able to live into that love with one another -- whether or not they fully understand or are able to see the outcome.

The meaning of the word, Maundy, is Commandment. This is Commandment Day and Christ gave us two commandments in his acts on this original day. He stressed that we are to serve one another with love as he served with love,  demonstrated this night by serving his friends in washing their feet; and we are to forgive, even as he has and does forgive us. Alone in his knowledge and understanding of the present moments of that night, Jesus, our lonely God, nevertheless loved those who could not remain with him; could not comprehend what he tried repeatedly to teach them; could not remain awake and pray with him in the garden; could not understand the concept of forgive your enemies, and so raised a sword toward the arresting soldier.

Jesus states explicitly that his actions on this night are an example for the disciples. "You also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you" If washing feet is the particular example, the wider principle is also quite apparent: "Just as I have loved you, so also should you love one another."

Loving one another as Jesus has loved us - does love us. For, that love has not died. And it is in and by and through that love that we, unlike God, are never, never ever alone.  Even when we think no one understands, no one cares, no one could possibly care about us because we are such miserable beings, Someone does. We are never, never, ever alone, for Christ, as promised, is with us.

In loving one another as Jesus loved us, we are called to forgive one another (and ourselves) as Jesus forgave.  Peter denied him later, three times. Yet, in love and forgiveness which comes with that love, Jesus later gives Peter the "Keys to the Kingdom".

We know how this story ends. On the night he was betrayed, his friends did not know how the story would end. They were first confused, then perhaps amused, then curious then terrified. In the saga of this rabbi who was arrested before their very eyes, surely they would be persons of interest to the authorities. We know that the next day, at the time in John's chronology when the Passover lambs are being sacrificed, Jesus is put to death, executed, on a cross on Calvary Hill.

It is Jesus' loving his disciples that brings them into the family of God. It is Jesus' loving us that keeps us in the family of God. and it is in our loving one another and others in the world that maintains and enlarges the family of God. Tonight we break bread and drink from the common cup in remembrance of that meal Jesus shared with his disciples. We eat and drink not only in remembrance, but also as a reminder of Christ's presence with us in our very own time.  In sharing this meal we are proclaiming our belief in the risen Christ which we will celebrate beginning Saturday night. But for tonight, broken and divided as we are, we come to remember service, love and forgiveness. We come, as the Prayer Book says, not for solace only, but for renewal as we remind ourselves of the immeasurable grace and love of our Lord Jesus and his command for us to do as he did. We are not alone in our efforts to follow.

"Infinite, intimate God; this night you kneel before your friends and wash our feet. Bound together in your love, trembling, we drink your cup and watch." AMEN

March 29, 2015

The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday

Isaiah 50: 4-9a; Psalm 31: 9-16; Philippians 2: 5-11; Mark 14:1 – 15:47

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Several years ago, I went to the YMCA off of Augusta Boulevard, which was close to where our family used to live.  As I approached the front door of the YMCA, I noticed a man sitting in a chair inside the building and I could tell, by the YMCA shirt he was wearing, that he either worked or volunteered there. When the man saw me approach the door, immediately he got out of his chair, and walked to the door. I could see that he was clearly limping.

It was obvious to me that this man had some sort of physical disability that made walking for him very difficult.  In spite of his difficulty, he made it to the door before I did, and then proceeded to open the door for me. I could again see here that whatever physical disability this man had in his legs he also had in his arms and hands. It was not easy for him to extend his arm to open the door, and yet he did so with grace and beauty.

As I walked through the door, he welcomed me, and said “have a good workout, sir.”  It was evident to me that speech also was something of a challenge for him.  At this moment, a swirly of emotions went through me.  In one sense I felt guilty – he shouldn’t be opening the door for me – I should be opening the door for him.  But I also felt a sense of humility.  Here was a man who in spite of his physical limitations did something of great hospitality – he made me feel welcome, and in his voice I neither detected resentment or anger.  Later on I remember feeling in that moment I was standing before Jesus – in the form of a man disabled in body, but mighty in spirit.  He blessed me.  

It is out of that experience and others similar to it that I am reminded that all of us have a disability of some sort.  Some may be better at hiding it than others, but we all have something that makes us weak. Part of becoming an adult, regrettably, seems to be about hiding our weakness, our disability, from others if we are able. Our society simply does not seem to reward weakness as much as it does strength.

This is a tragedy, because the paradox of disability is that it takes tremendous courage and strength to shine a light on our weakness.  And in honoring our weakness, we become truly strong.

Today is Palm Sunday, a day when we hear the story of Jesus entering the city of Jerusalem in an act of great humility. He enters Jerusalem not upon a tall and powerful horse, as  powerful Roman officials did at the time, but rather positioned upon a simple donkey, proclaiming for all to see that his authority came not from strength, military, or political, might; but rather from his humility.

Jesus was a master who understood that humility is the path toward salvation. And on Palm Sunday, it literally is. Today Jesus begins the journey that culminates in our redemption Easter morning.

Years before Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, Alexander the Great rode into the cities he conquered in magisterial parades upon his strong horse Bucephalus. Some would argue that Alexander’s parades were about appeasing his ego, while Jesus’ was a parade of humility; a reminder to us that whatever is strong, God makes weak, and whatever is weak, God makes strong.

So I am grateful for the man who opened the door for me that night at the YMCA. He was a great teacher, reminding me of the old lesson of how God often acts in seemingly small ways which yield mighty outcomes. An opened door.  A small procession into an ancient, gated city.  

Perhaps it is a mystery that God enacts heaven upon earth through the door of vulnerability. Perhaps when we honor and bring to light our weakness – our disability – we in fact do the same.

March 22, 2015

Lent V

Jeremiah 31: 31-34; Psalm 51: 1-13; Hebrews 5: 5-10; John 12:20-33

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

St. Andrew, for whom this church is named, and St. Phillip were both brothers.  And when they were little boys they were probably pretty rambunctious, and gave their parents a run for their money, though the Gospel never says so.  But they grew up and became intrepid fisherman - familiar with the patterns and currents of the Sea of Galilee.  They knew how to retie nets and cast them out into the sea, pulling in the harvest of the day.  Andrew and Phillip were privileged, not because of their background, but because they were the first to be called disciples by Jesus.  

In the Gospel we hear this morning, Phillip and Andrew receive a second honor, one that I completely overlooked the importance of until writing this sermon, though maybe it was pointed out to me in a seminary class on the New Testament and I had long since forgotten it. In John’s Gospel, a group of Greek people travelled to Jerusalem for the Passover celebration, and they approached Phillip and then Andrew, now disciples, with a request to see Jesus.

Andrew and Phillip were the first Jewish disciples of Jesus and their presence in the story today establishes a connection between their call as the first Jewish disciples and the arrival of the first Gentile disciples – this group of Greeks who somehow heard of Jesus, and wanted to meet him. So Andrew and Phillip are at the front of the VIP line, both to become Jesus’ disciples, and then to welcome the first gentiles – these people from Greece who we do not know their names, to be followers of Jesus.  

Phillip and Andrew tell Jesus about these visitors, but we never find out if Jesus met them or not – the Gospel doesn’t say.  In place of an answer to Andrew and Phillip’s request, Jesus instead talks about his coming death – which must have been very odd for Andrew and Phillip to hear.  Jesus picks a seed of grain of the ground, and holding it in his hand says, “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”  

The point of the illustration is that the physical body – or the grain – goes away, but from it emerges a new plant with many new grains.  How confusing for Andrew and Phillip who approached Jesus and said “hey some people are here to see you”  only to hear Jesus’ respond with a soliloquy about how his body going into the ground would lead to a whole new world – a world that would be as different as the wheat plant that emerges from one grain. I imagine that if anyone approached Andrew or Phillip with the request to see Jesus after this, they would’ve pointed to him and said – he’s over there, you go talk to him!

While it may seem that Jesus did not answer Phillip and Andrew’s request to meet with the travelers from Greece – he really did. The Greeks wanted to see Jesus, and what Jesus told Andrew and Phillip was that they would see him, but not in the way they expected. They would see him displaying his love for all humanity while crucified upon a cross.

The community of faith that grew out of the death and resurrection of Jesus is the plant that bears the fruit Jesus spoke of.  St. Andrew’s church is part of that fruit. We are but one shoot, one branch off the massive plant that has grown from the grain of wheat placed into the ground.   

But the nature of life is that the fruit produces more seeds, more grain that yields new plants and new fruit. Several years ago St. Andrew’s sponsored two parishioners, Jody Greenwood and Kevin Shubert, for seminary and now they are ordained Episcopal priests, planted in their congregations where they are bearing much fruit.  So the fruit that is here is birthing new grain.  

    We have started Rhythms of Grace, a weekly service for individuals with special needs and their families. It is a growing plant, and it is starting to bear fruit. In a few weeks our Deacon, Portia, will bless the feet of runners on Heights Blvd - it’s called the blessing of the soles – that is a growing plant, too. And we will continue to sow these tiny seeds of grain the Lord has given us, scattering them in every direction.  Some of it will lie fallow, and some of it may die, and that’s ok, because death is not an end, it’s just the preface for a resurrection. AMEN.  

March 15, 2015

Lent IV-B

Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21

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THE REV. PORTIA SWEET

The way things went in my parents’ home was like this: Daddy earned the moneyand Mother spent the money. She first spent the money on necessities, including our food. She prepared the food and got it on the dining table. The rule that was sternly and consistently applied was: you will eat at least a little of everything on the table and you will eat everything on your plate. Picky eaters were not permitted, except my brother, who did not like white food. Mother solved that with beet juice or green peas nested in mashed potatoes, etc. If one of us decided we did not like the dinner offering, we had the opportunity to change our mind when the same thing appeared on our breakfast plate. OR – we stayed seated at the table until we ate the food or it was bedtime. The Israelites in today’s O.T. story would not have been happy at our dinner table. Looking back, I am glad there were not an abundance of poisonous snakes about.

The Israelites, just like we kids put themselves into an unpleasant predicament by their disobedience - their sins.  They refused to be content with gifts from God and instead complained that their liberated life did not meet their expectations. Sins are acts which block out God. Sins are actions we take as defense against God. News Flash:  We are All Sinners. We are all sinners throughout our lives. Even in the Prayer Book prayer commending the soul of a departed person to God's keeping, we identify the person as "a sinner of your own redeeming."

In the readings this Lent we are again given the Ten Commandments and as we hear them read, we may be tempted to say, “Well, I haven’t really done anything horrible. I usually obey those.” Are we like the Pharisees proud to claim we obey the laws and thank God we are not like the people who get covered on the ten o’clock news? Maybe we need to look a little deeper.

There is idolatry in the smugness of looking at our wealth, individual good health and sexual morality while ignoring the causes of and our possible contributions to poverty, public health threats and society’s moral decay. This is where the Israelites found themselves. God kept saving their lives and they kept turning away and refusing to recognize the gifts he poured upon them - they were not in the form they expected. So, the poisonous snakes appeared, and their bite was deadly. The snake or serpent has been a symbol of sin since the Garden of Eden story. But look what happens.

The people turned to Moses and confessed that they had sinned against God and against him and begged him to ask God to remove the snakes - take away their sin. God then demonstrates God's readiness to forgive by, in effect, saying, if your sin overtakes you, look to me and it will not kill you. I will overcome the death bite of sin. Note that sin was not eliminated. We are still tempted and, without God's help, we are so capable of getting entangled in wrong doing, wrong speaking, wrong perspective, that our resulting way of living can kill us.

Do we focus on sin or on forgiveness of both ourselves and others? Do we blame those folks in the 10 o'clock crime reports:  the poor, the thief, the prostitute, the murderer and say, “Thank God I am not like that.”? Or, through true repentance for our own sins do we, with God’s help, step up to act to eliminate the root causes of poverty, crime and the seeming breakdown of civility and morality in our society?  We know these causes:  greed, lust for power, self absorption and the self-righteousness which allows each one of us to convince ourselves that our way of living, our perspective, our circle is THE righteous “Christian” way. This is a defense against God and is often done in God’s name.

In Advent we heard the call of John the Baptist to repent. In Lent we need a reminder to repent because of our inherent memory lapses – just as the Israelites experienced. The Greek word from which the word repent is translated is metanoia, and means a change of perspective, a change of outlook or a transformative change of heart. Metanoia is more than a simple, "I'm sorry." Through repentance we can experience God's grace. Jesus sometimes would say to a person whom he healed, "Go and sin no more." But we are who God made us, and we continue to be the creatures God made, unworthy, yet worthy indeed by the grace of God through Christ.

We can infer from the section of Paul's letter read this morning that the Ephesians were also in need of metanoia. Paul said, "You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient." Paul minces no words in telling them and us that living a life focused upon our own needs  is to live a life focused on a god of our own making and we become the god at the center of our universe. We do this in order to control that world - the world of people pleasing, extreme consumerism, (i.e. greed), lust, and all those other juicy behaviors that Jimmy and his friends talk about on Wednesday nights.

Yet, even though the Israelites were way off the straight and narrow; even though the Romans, Greeks and Jews of the First Century were way off; even though we, the people of this community get way off, God loved them and God loves us.

There is much happening in the world around us, both in our back yards and across the oceans that we might feel righteous in strongly condemning. Jesus, however, stressed though word and action, relationship with those whom others condemned. For only through relationship can we begin to live lives worthy of the cross and resurrection, the name, Christian.  John tells us that when God sent his Son, Jesus, into this world, it was not to condemn or punish his people. Rather, he came to show us how to live a life saved from sin. 

Jesus told Nicodemus to look to the risen Son of Man, just as the Israelites looked up to the serpent on the pole; look and believe in the risen Lord for the sake of your soul's salvation. To be Christ-like is to engage the people around us - those for whom we pray each week in this room and those we read about and meet in our daily walk through life. We, for our sake and theirs are to meet them and lead them to that cross by how we walk the talk and tell them of the availability of God's love and grace.  

God loved us so much that he brought us life together, made us one with Christ. As Christians we have a special status; we are to be channels through whom God's gifts to us may be shown to the world. These are the great and life-sustaining gifts God pours upon us. Repent - Believe - Be filled with God's Grace.

Lift to Christ - not animal sacrifice or self loathing; not by giving up, but by looking up at the Christ, risen from the Cross on which he bore our sin, in true repentance - metanoia.

Then, having received the grace of absolution from a God whose mercy never ends, offer your feet. Move into the world of cruel realities with compassion and God's love and blessing.

This is the Good News: we can repent. Even our failures are redeemed  and we are lifted up and given new life through the one resurrected Lord, Jesus Christ.

March 8, 2015

Lent III

Exodus 20: 1-17; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians 1: 18-25; John 2: 13-22

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

There is a reason that in most churches the focal point is a cross. At St. Andrew’s, if you look above the altar, you will see, although it is now obscured by a purple Lenten drape, a cross. Upon this cross above the altar is Jesus, depicted as a crucified king. It is called a “Christus Rex,” Latin for Christ the King.

At the very heart of the Gospel that Paul preaches is a cross, which he calls both a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Greeks. The reason for this language is that Paul understands that absurdity of God on a cross. It was an absurd idea at the time, and remains so today – God the creator of all that is - as the recipient of all human shame, death, and violence – here, on the cross. Nothing could be more unlikely than that redemption should come through the humiliating crucifixion of a person. And yet it does.

The cross stands as an affront to the values of the world. So any person who holds on to those values will always stumble over this cross, because it doesn’t make sense. But for those who learn to see the cross, not as something punitive, but as affirming, those people are truly blessed, because in place of absurdity upon the cross, they discover truth. And that is the reason why the cross is the focal point. We don’t come into this church and see a smiley face or a dollar sign above the altar, because Christianity isn’t about being happy or financially prosperous. Christianity is about a relationship with God, which creates a kind of joy and prosperity that is counter to what the world offers us.   

We are halfway through Lent. Some of us may have given something up or took something on?  And maybe, miracle of all miracles, we are still observing that.  Perhaps through your Lenten discipline God has revealed something to you. Paul, the author of 1 Corinthians, writes today that this is what God is always doing. If you have in yourself a desire to know God more deeply, Paul suggests that desire is a gift from God.  God is within you.

I recently drove by a church whose marquee board read “God knows what She’s doing” and I believe that is completely true. The impetus for relationship with God moves from God to us, not the other way around.  

For Paul, knowing and loving God have nothing to do with believing the right ideas or beliefs, belonging to the right church, or believing that the Bible is divinely inspired. Paul didn’t seem to show much interest in these things.  

What matters to Paul is that cross – God’s invitation to us to live a life that is real, vulnerable, and more life-affirming than any other life we could imagine. For Lent this year, I did not give up beer, chocolate, fried foods, or sweets. I gave up trying to earn my own worthiness. I am first to admit, I do this too often. I try to earn my worthiness by working more than I need to, wanting to please everyone, to be liked by all. For Lent this year I decided, I don’t need that crutch anymore, because in the presence of the cross, none of it matters, because being loved by God is enough. We are all worthy because God loves us, and that is what the cross is all about. AMEN.

March 1, 2015

Lent II

Psalm 80:1-7; Isaiah 64:1-9a; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; Mark 13:(24-32) 33-37

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THE REV. CARISSA BALDWIN-McGINNIS

To be a seeker of the Divine through religious tradition requires something of a sculptor’s sensibilities. Jews, Christians and Muslims pursue spirituality through community and history.  This path is inefficient, but it is meaningful and powerful. We religious seekers look to ancient teachings translated into contemporary English that sound plainly stated yet we must work away at them in order to access their meaning as well as their core beauty.

For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for sake of the gospel will save it.

This is Jesus’ most declarative teaching about detachment. Others sound like this:  Lay down your nets and “follow me.” “Sell all your possessions and give your money to the poor.” “Stand up, take your matt and walk.” Each of these can be considered an instruction from Jesus to radically detach from a familiar way of being in order to reorient oneself anew. It is like reconstructive surgery for the soul. Every faithful act of detachment is an opening for the Spirit to shape us and move us closer to the Truth.

Some detachments are punctuated, such as the day we choose to get sober or the moment we vow to be married. In the case of the first, when we leave behind booze or pills or powders or serums, we detach from the lock of addiction or the fantasticality of numbness and fantasia in order to let ourselves be repossessed by consciousness, free will and sensation. In the case of the second, when we become tethered to another in matrimony we separate from a singularity of self - doing whatever I want the way that I want at the time of my pleasing - to a plurality of self where doing is orchestrated, negotiated and made more valuable by way of sharing the experience. The core nugget of Jesus’ teaching in this Sunday’s gospel is that is in loosing - loosening - losing, we are ripe to gain, even to be preserved, or perhaps to be made whole.

For those who want to save their life will lose it.

Can you think of a time in your life when you were so afraid - so hell bent on keeping things exactly as they were - that you were compromising the spiritual quality of your life?  Afraid to…lose the marriage…let the child go away to school…stand up to the abuser…take the early retirement.  Can you think of a time like that in which you actually pushed through - or you were pushed through - to the other side not only did you survive the transition, you actually could breathe more deeply?  You felt more yourself, more at peace, better aligned?

The Academy Award Winning picture, “Birdman” artfully lifts up this predicament.   The extended question throughout the film was would Riggan Thomson - Birdman - give up the ego, the former self, the super-hero image and character for a more up to date expression of his true and deepest self as an actor? He reaches from the sunny west coast superficiality of the screen to the frigid east coast exposure of the stage in an attempt to be created more in his own likeness, more into his true and current self. Will he succeed at the kind of performance that - as he says to the film critic - literally has cost him everything. In the end we do not know if he achieved his truth or his freedom. We don’t know if he fell or if he flew. And that is the perfect ending to a presentation the existential question that we each must face as mortals and that we must face together as church. To what are we wiling to die in order that we can be remade anew and made more true? What chunk of ourself - what piece of our personal landscape - will we sever in order to be set free?

For most of us Lent is a beginners exercise in spiritual detachment. We give up Diet Coke, desserts or alcohol as a shallow reminder of the depths to which we are called over time to separate and start anew. Our endearing Lenten habits are like indicator lights on our spiritual dashboard, reminding us that God’s call to take up much greater and more important considerations do not always fall in the 40 days leading up to Easter. Grandparents may leave behind everything they know to move to a new state just to be near grandchildren. A teenager may let go of a Sunday sport in order to reduce the stress level and have time to simply be. A mother may leave poverty, homeland and children to find work abroad. Getting to the truth and aligning with our sacred nature is an ongoing process akin to being sculpted endlessly by way of detachments that allow for refinements by our Creator.

Those who lose their life for sake of the gospel will save it.

A beloved and now deceased Indian teacher of meditation taught, “Detachment is liberation.”  Though detachment can be scary, it is the key to our freedom.  It is the key to truly living.  Mohandas Gandhi wrote,  “…I can see that in the midst of death life persists, in the midst of untruth truth persists, in the midst of darkness light persists.” Gandhi studied Jesus and you can hear today’s gospel in this writing.  Something that Jesus taught and Gandhi reminded us is that the same mechanism by which we are individually fine tuned - detachment - is the mechanism by which society is rendered more just. The better we become at fine tuning our own lives, the better able we will be to identify injustice and imbalance in society. The more capable we are of spiritually detaching in our personal aspect, the better prepared we are to release old ways of doing things socially or politically in the public arena in order to progress toward justice and equity.

The Lenten message from Jesus feels heavy and a bit sad.  Indeed Lent mostly feels that way too. This is because all of our lenten habits are pointing to the ultimate detachment; the detachment from this life. We act as though Lent were about Diet Coke and chocolate, when really it is about preparing for death. And as people of faith we understand that in some cases death may be a greater freedom if the alternative is to live bounded to injustice or enslaved to untruth. Therefore, the church sings the hymn lyrics, “And before I’d be a slave, I’d be buried in my grave and go home to my Lord and be free.”

It is hard to be a sculptor seeking out the kind of truth Jesus was pursuing whether in ourself or in society. But if we as seekers remain the same over time, we will suffocate spiritually. And if we do not seek the connection between our own refinement and the need for beauty and justice in the world, then our personal liberation will find little meaning or satisfaction.

For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for sake of the gospel will save it.

February 22, 2015

Lent I

Genesis 9:8-17; Psalm 25: 1-9; 1 Peter 3: 18-22; Mark 1: 9-15

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

I was hot, tired, and hadn’t showered or bathed for a week. We were somewhere in the back country of Wyoming, and the group I had been hiking with for the week had just crossed over a mountain pass. We were above the treeline, somewhere above 11,000 feet, and we could see for miles as we looked across the beautiful mountaneous landscape before us. But we were tired, our bodies ached from carrying our heavy backpacks loaded with tents and camping supplies. I remember feeling the tension of loving where I was, the beautiful sunsets, all the stars in the sky, but also longing for the comforts of a big city. I loved the scenery of the wilderness, but I also loved a hot shower and a comfortable bed.

The words “wilderness” and “bewilder” come from the same root. To be bewildered means to be confused or puzzled. And the wilderness, at least for Jesus is the stage for where  that bewilderment takes place. After his baptism, the same spirit that gently brooded over Jesus whispering words of adoration revealed its talons and drove him into the wilderness for forty days. His sojourn there recalls the forty day fast of Moses on Mt. Sinai as he received the law, Elijah’s forty days spent near Mt. Horeb, and the forty years Israel spent wandering in the desert.  

The wilderness also connects Jesus with the experience and message of John the Baptist, who came from the wilderness himself. For Jesus, the wilderness is a place of temptation, of confusion, and of bewilderment. It is a dangerous place, far removed from the beautiful landscapes of the American West. 

Why would God send Jesus to such a forsaken place?  

Author Nikos Kazantzakis, who wrote the novel The Last Temptation of Christ by Nikos Kazantzakis, offers an answer to that question through a story he tells in that book. Kazantzakis writes of Jesus as a young boy facing a prelude to the torment he would experience in the wilderness suggesting that Jesus was tormented as a boy, feeling the pain of claws scraping at his head and frenzied wings beating above him.

Jesus shrieks and he falls down while his mother, Mary, pleaded with a rabbi who knew how to drive out demons to help: “The rabbi shook his head. ‘Mary your boy isn’t being tormented by a devil; it’s not a devil.  It’s God – so what can I do?’ ‘Why does [God] torment [my son],’ Mary asked the rabbi. The rabbi sighed but did not answer. ‘Why does God torment him?’ Mary asked again. And the rabbi responded, ‘Because God loves him.’  

The wilderness experience of feeling bewildered, tormented, or confused is not a punishment. It is called living a holy life. Jesus models courage stepping into that experience, going into the wilderness, not because he wanted to, but because the wilderness is our human story. It is where so many of us are right now and we don’t realize it. Your wilderness might be a personal struggle, anxiety, fear, or scarcity. If that describes your bewilderment, your wilderness, then know you are in good company, because the God who braved the wilderness once, braves it with you again and again and again. 

But we are not there permanently, it is a place we go to be bewildered, and the lesson we learn and relearn time and time again there is that whatever it is in our life that seems hopeless is in fact hope-filled, that what appears dead, actually is springing forth in life, that the wilderness is not really as desolate as it may appear – rather, it is heaven.  

What we perceive as torment, the wilderness teaches us is simply misunderstood love. And that’s why we need to go there, because the wilderness and bewilderment are often our greatest spiritual teachers. We don’t go there to find easy answers – we go there to encounter the God who shuns them and instead invites us into a holy bewilderment.  AMEN.

February 18, 2015

Ash Wednesday

Joel 2: 1-2, 12-17; Psalm 103; 2 Corinthians 5:20b – 6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

On a Libyan beach a few days ago stood twenty-one Egyptian Coptic Christians.  Behind them stood their executors all dressed in black, their faces covered. The beheading of these twenty-one Christians, and the subsequent images of this horrific event sent around the world on social media, reveals the cold brutality and cowardice committed by members of the Islamic State.

As I saw the picture I felt a confluence of emotions: anger, hatred, the desire for revenge. And I also felt helpless. What can I possibly offer as a fragile human being to bring any peace to a situation that is seemingly bereft of tolerance, love, and simple human dignity? These murderous acts are in immediate contradiction to the promises we make at our baptism – to respect the dignity of every human being, no matter who they are or what they believe.

I am personally struggling with this latest act of terrorism, and the evil that seems to consume much of the Middle East, because every urge I have to see those responsible face a similar fate is met with a small voice. It is the voice of Jesus. And I will admit to you it is not a voice I want to hear right now. The voice of Jesus says “Blessed are the peacemakers, love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you.”

As a priest, I celebrate with joy the fact that grace and forgiveness are extended to people like you and me who don’t deserve it. That Christ died for us. But on a day like today, the very idea the same grace and forgiveness being offered to murderers standing on the beach that day is a hurdle for me. Are we brave enough to say that the love and grace of God is so radical that God not only died for you and me, but also equally for the butchers of the Islamic State?  Did Jesus die for them?

Yes, he did. Jurgen Moltman, in his book The Crucified God, proclaims that God’s grace extends to all people writing that “the message of the new righteousness . . . is that in fact the executioners will not finally triumph over their victims. It also says that in the end the victims will not triumph over their executioners. The one will triumph who first died for the victims and then also for the executioners [Jesus], and in so doing, revealed a new righteousness which breaks through the vicious circles of hate and vengeance and which from the lost victims and executioners creates a new mankind and a new humanity.”

As followers of Jesus, we proclaim the good news of his transforming grace that extends to everyone who is undeserving of it. The cold reality of the killings on the Libyan beach present us with a question that our entire faith stands upon: do we believe in radical transforming grace for all people? It’s one thing to say that God’s grace extends to people like you and me who don’t deserve it, but does it also extend to those who deserve it the least, but need it the most?

If we believe in the radical transformative grace of God, then that means that same grace abounded on that beach in Libya in ways we cannot comprehend, or want to accept.

Today is Ash Wednesday. A day set apart for fasting, prayer, and the imposition of ashes upon our foreheads. The cross of ash we will bear today is not just a reminder of our mortality; it is also a sign of our redemption. Because underneath that cross of ash is the sign of the cross we first received upon our forehead at our baptism. We are marked as Christ’s own forever.  Nothing will ever change that – no matter of dying or living can take that away.  

The ashes we use this day are partially made from papers we burned last night. Upon those papers we wrote what we are giving up or taking on for Lent, and soon, we will literally bear those things upon our face. The cross of ash upon our forehead is a reminder to us that the grace of God abounds always and in all things – in burned ash and death, and in water and life.  

All things of grace and beauty have their birth in grief and ashes. Today, Ash Wednesday, we proclaim the un-doing of death, the dismantling of suffering, for even in the midst of these things, the kingdom of God is present upon the beaches of Libya and it is present here, upon Heights Boulevard. AMEN.

February 15, 2015

Epiphany IV-B

2 Kings 5:1-15ab; 1 Corinthians 9:24-27; Mark 1:40-45; Psalm 42 or 42:1-7

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THE REV. PORTIA SWEET

I remember the first time I went up Interstate 70 west of Denver to Georgetown, CO. This was my first look at and first step into the Rocky Mountains.  I had flown to the city the evening before for a job interview that, if successful, would mean a promotion, relocation, and a significant turning point in my secular career. My prospective manager picked me up at the hotel and drove into the mountains on a beautiful May day where we would have a meal and talk. It was perfect Springtime in the Rockies with dry, thin air that revealed a deep blue, cloudless sky and wild flowers popping out of the rocks that made the mountains. Having spent most of my life in SE Texas, at sea level I was agog at the majesty, beauty, and power of the mountains and it took my breath away in more than one way. By the time the conversation arrived at the part where you are supposed to negotiate terms, I nearly forgot all I had researched, all I had been coached on, and all I knew. At that point, I think I might have agreed to move and work without pay just to be there. You might say I was, in a sense, transformed by the experience of just being in that space.

In today's Gospel story, we find some other people on a mountain with Jesus. Peter, James and John are treated to an experience filled with majesty, beauty, power and brilliance as the authentic Jesus is revealed to them. In a way, they forgot all he had done in their presence and all he had said to them before this moment. The light, the presence of Elijah and Moses, the exhilarating emotion overtook their ability to comprehend what was happening. Perhaps Peter was a bit like I was in Georgetown that day, as he did not know what to say and so started rambling about building booths or tents for everyone  so they could stay there on the mountain -  Such a happy place.

This episode is often referred to as the Sinai Theophany, a visible manifestation of God on Mount Sinai. And the writing itself as well as every artistic rendition I have ever seen of this is filled with light, indicating that transfiguration, or transformation, in the Christian journey is enlightening, brings light, sheds light. In the creation story God first says into the dark void, "Let there be Light", so that the universe's first encounter with God includes light. In the Prologue to John's Gospel and in several other places in the Scripture we find Jesus referred to as "The Light of the World." In the first reading today, when Moses spends time with God on the mountain, his face takes on a glow that is so blinding to the people he comes down to, that they cannot bear to look at him. He must cover it with a veil.

Now during all this, Jesus does not speak and just as at his baptism, it is God who is acting and it is God who speaks. "This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him." Only when they are coming back down the mountain does Jesus speak to the disciples.  So here we have Jesus' friends accepting his invitation or command (we only know he "took with him") to follow him. In so doing they find themselves in the presence of Almighty God, and of two great prophets, and they witness the authentic Jesus, affirmed so by the Father. And they do not really understand what they have experienced. Jesus is transfigured, and they are transformed in ways they will understand only much later. But then the Preacher, teacher and theologian Frederick Buechner said, "You do not need to understand healing to be healed and you do not need to understand blessing to be blessed."

Now, I have had other mountaintop experiences, as I imagine you have also had. These are really exceptional moments of great joy, overpowering beauty, etc. Perhaps when you first fell in love or saw your new infant child or had a deeply spiritual experience. In most cases, we may be like Peter and want that feeling, that light, that time to last forever. Let's build a place to stay here. Yet as Christians, we must continue to follow Jesus back down the mountain.  He will remain authentic with us and within us as we do. And as the Son of Man has died and is risen we, like Moses, are commanded to tell everyone what we know of him. Paul says to the Corinthians, "We do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord."

And this reminds me of something I really want to say to you as deacon. Each Sunday at this service I have the duty and great privilege of proclaiming the gospel by reading to you the gospel lesson, prefaced by a musical introduction. I attempt to make the reading relevant through appropriate inflection, accent, etc. At the end, I gladly announce, "The Gospel of the Lord." Nearly all of the time, this is what I hear back: "Pra-es to -o you-u, Lord Christ." That is not proclaiming or praising. Could we just this once sing this short and simple phrase like you are really glad to be a follower of Jesus? Come on, now, let Jesus smile......

Brother Mark Brown  of the Society of Jesus writes, "But I imagine that most of the time, the face of Jesus was a face of love in the full spectrum of its colors: joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, humility, compassion. I would guess that above all else, Jesus' face radiated joy, an infectious joy that delighted in the presence of other human beings." For it is in absorbing that joyful  light of Christ, taking it into the world and shining it on others that we ourselves are transformed. It is in the midst of the shared light of his love, in acts of love in his name, that we are made new, made real, authentic, made who we are created and meant to be.

So, my friends, I invite you to come with me to Lord of the Streets to serve the homeless. I invite you to come with me to Heights Interfaith Ministry Food Pantry to share food with hungry neighbors. I invite you to come with me to Heights House and Heights Towers to visit the lonely. I invite you to not only share your abundance of things with other who can use them, but to meet the recipients of those things and learn their names, hear their stories and share your stories with them. I invite you to come with me to train to sit with the elderly, the sick and the dying. I invite you to come with me to work with the Common Mission Team to discover additional ways we can be Jesus Followers, the church, in our community, to both the physically impoverished and those who are spiritually hungry and thirsty.

When I dismiss the congregation at the end of each service, I am not saying, "Now ya'all go on home and watch TV." I am saying, "Go into that world out there and love on a bunch of folks who are dying to know Jesus and just don't know it. Go shed his light on those folks walking around in the dark of their poverty of spirit and pain of their wounds." Unveil the good news for them. But I warn you: You Will Be Transformed. You will Never Be The Same! AMEN.

February 8, 2015

V Epiphany

Isaiah 40: 21-31; Psalm 147: 1-12, 21c; 1 Corinthians 9: 16-23, Mark 1: 29-39

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THE REV. JAMES M.L. GRACE

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Jesus and his first four disciples leave the synagogue where he had been teaching, and they go to Simon and his brother Andrew’s house where they meet Simon’s ill mother-in-law. It sounds like the beginning of a joke, but that is really the story from the Gospel this morning.  

Simon’s mother-in-law sick with a fever, and Jesus sees her, extends his hand to her, and her fever immediately goes away. Poof! Gone. Word travels around fast that Jesus is there, and people naturally begin to show up at the house, curious about the healings and miracles Jesus had been performing.  Many of these curious people were also sick themselves - and Jesus heals. What are we to make of these healing miracle stories? Do we believe that they really happened the way the Bible describes? A common follow up to that question is that if we believe Jesus healed people in miraculous ways, is it possible that miracles such as the ones Jesus performed during his life occur today?  

For me, the answers to both of those questions are yes. Yes, I believe Jesus healed people the way the Bible describes, and yes, I believe miracles the likes of which were performed by Jesus continue to occur today. They’ve never stopped! 

Miracles are simply manifestations, or to use a more seasonally appropriate word, epiphanies, of God’s work in the world. They are really big and bright obvious signs that God is alive and active in our world today. God is not asleep at the wheel, allowing his creation to veer of the road in the midst of tragedies we see on the news we can hardly explain or even understand. I would suggest, that if you are like me, upset, concerned, and knowing no explanation for some of what is going on in the world today – imagine yourself as one of those curious people that day who walked to Simon and Andrew’s house because you heard of miracles occurring in that place.  

Imagine yourself as one of those curious bystanders, and if you are sick, bring your illness, if you are scared, bring your anxiety, if you are ashamed, bring your shame. Whatever your illness is, bring it to that house, and I promise that if you allow Jesus to hold it, your illness will be transformed.  It might not go away, but through your prayers, through bringing it to God, you will have new eyes to see that maybe whatever it is that is the thorn in your side is nothing more than a splinter – and a splinter no more than a reminder that to be alive in this world means to be in touch with pain and that all pain is redeemed.   

Phillips Brooks, a former Bishop of Massachusetts, offers these words which help us to understand how we actively participate with God in birthing the miraculous into our midst. He writes: “Do not pray for easy lives.  Pray to be stronger women and men. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers, but pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be the miracle.” 

The question these words leave us with is simple:  where are we going to be a miracle today? At church this morning? In our homes? At school or at work? There is simply no limit to the places where the miraculous happens, because with God, indeed all things are possible.Simon and Andrew’s house, where Jesus performed miracles, is every house, every workplace, every school, every church, because Christ is always present. You are God’s great miracle.