January 3, 2021

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The Second Sunday after Christmas

Ephesians 1:3-6, 15-19a | Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23

The Rev. Bradley Varnell

 

Our Gospel lesson today skips over 3 verses that, to really get the fullest picture possible of the lesson, I think we need. Verse 16 begins: when Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time he had learned from the wise men…This scene is what has traditionally been called the murder of the Holy Innocents. We skip over this scene because the Feast of the Holy Innocents, who might be considered the first martyrs, falls just a few days after Christmas and this portion of Scripture is read there.

The death of the Holy Innocents, of all the children under two years in Bethlehem, is the driving force for the Holy Family’s flight into Egypt. Herod’s bloodlust is fueled by the threat which this “new born King” poses to his own reign and to the rule of Rome in Israel. Herod has a cushy job and he wants to keep it, so he’ll do whatever he must to secure his position.

Over the course of Advent some parishioners and I spent time reflecting on the Four Last Things, and one of the four last things is judgement, my favorite one. We often think of judgement in punitive terms. We judge someone and make an evaluation of them, we judge someone and pass a sentence on them. Those are certainly real parts of judgement, and they’re found in Scripture, but judgement, particularly the judgement of God, has some different nuances. In Scripture judgement is about bringing the truth to light. Judgement, God’s judgement, reveals reality. Think of a courtroom, in a good, functioning, just justice system the purpose of a judgement is to declare what the truth is. That’s why you are judged then sentenced. A court passes judgement as to what the reality of a particular case might be. This is how judgement is often used of God in Scripture. And this is the judgement which Christ, by his birth, has come to bring down on us. Christ has come to judge the world, because Christ has come to show us the truth of our world.

The flight into Egypt is a moment of judgement. As the Holy Family flees to safety, as the innocents of Bethlehem are slaughtered, the judgement of God is revealed against Herod because we see the truth of Herod’s rule, of Rome’s rule. The flight into the Egypt shows the very nature of Herod’s cushy job, the cost the good order of kingdom requires.

What the judgement reveals, however, is complex. We look at Herod and see in him one of the bad guys of the Gospels. But if we step back and think for a moment, we see that he was a man who had a job to do, he was a ruler, the king, his job was to protect Israel, his people, the Romans who he served, from threats to their interest. He had laws to uphold. Kings cannot, as a matter of course, simply allow would-be usurpers to just…wander about. Herod was made aware of a threat and took care of it. Sure, the threat was a newborn, but he was a threat nonetheless. The judgement of God reveals not simply that great evil exists, but that so often, great evil exists and is perpetrated under the guise of “doing one’s job” of “doing one’s duty.”  The judgement of God reveals how evil is often not something we add on top of our lives and work, but is something imbedded within it.

This story not only judges Herod, but every government, every. There has been no nation on earth, no power, no empire that has not, in some way secured itself by the blood of innocents.  How many enslaved Africans had to die for us to build America? How many Native Americans had to die to make room for our manifest destiny? How many women, men, and children were sacrificed in the engine of progress as the lives of the comfortable were made even cushier?

As Christians, we are called to be a people who open our eyes to the violence of the world, who do not shrink back when the innocents are killed. And there are too many instances of innocent slaughter to name everyone. But there are two that hit close to home for me, and that I think a fitting to mention on this day in which we remember the Holy Family’s flight. First, is the Syrian refugee crisis, entering its 11th year, in which millions have been displaced around the world.  Second, is immigration at the southern border, where many fleeing violence and instability in central America – including many children – have sought some form of sanctuary in the US. These people fleeing violence are no different than the Holy Family. They bear witness to the judgement of God, to the truth which God in Christ continues to reveal. When we see these people as “problems,” as “blights” as “threats” we close our eyes to the truth. But in his coming among us, Christ has invited us to open our eyes to the light, to see the truth, and boldly face it, knowing that it is only in finding the truth, and living into the truth that we will be free.

Christ came into the world at Christmas as king, savior. This has dramatic, far-reaching implications for us. If we are to be Christians, to be citizens of heaven, subjects of Christ, then all other allegiances must be relativized. Christ has come into the world and shown us the nature of our governments, he has revealed to us the way in which human systems depend on violence to secure themselves. We live in that violent world. We live as beneficiaries of the violence that has made our country and our world what it is, we live as beneficiaries of the violence that even now happens to make our lives possible. Christ has called us to see that violence. To stand against it. To speak out for the innocents. Christ has given us a new way, a different way, to be in the world. To be citizens of a kingdom not maintained by the violent securing of power but maintained by the self-giving love of God for all God’s creatures.

 Amen.

December 25, 2020

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Christmas Day

The Rev. Bradley Varnell

Poor, ordinary shepherds are accosted by the glory of heaven, as an angel announces to them good news of great joy: the messiah, the savior, the hope of Israel and the world has been born.  They are given a sign: a manger, bands of cloths. The terror of the moment is ratcheted up now as the barrier between heaven and earth blurs, and the shepherds are greeted with the entire host, the entire army of angelic beings praising God and singing. In a moment it is gone. They are returned to the ordinary. To the dark field. To their sheep.

The shepherds set out to confirm what was spoken to them and, sure enough, they find the sign promised to them: a baby, wrapped in bands of cloth, lying in a manger. All who hear this word are amazed, and for good reason. The messiah? In a feeding trough? The savior, surrounded by donkeys and goats? Certainly not. It's amazing, not in its wonder, but in its ridiculousness. The hope of the world amid livestock.

Surely the shepherds knew how shocking, how surprising this scene was. Could they have believed it without the backing of heaven's army? Nothing about the scene at Bethlehem speaks of a miraculous savior appearing. Jesus doesn't shimmer with a heavenly light. Mary doesn't recline in beatific serenity. Joseph's halo is nowhere to be found. All that's found is a newborn: perhaps asleep, perhaps fussing. A new mother, exhausted from the pain of labor. A new father, terrified of this new little person who is his to protect. Not the kind of scene often found on our Christmas cards. Yet here, so the angels say, so the shepherds believe, is the hope of humanity. Here is the savior of the world. Here is God in human flesh.

Yet the shepherds believe the word of the angels, they trust that this ordinary place is the site of the extraordinary. Here in a manger lies the savior of the world. Here in a manger lies God himself. As they approach this exceedingly ordinary baby, they approach the Holy One of Israel. In Bethlehem they find what the angel reported and that is enough for them. As the great theologian Hans Von Balthasar has said about this episode: "the sign fits!" They rejoice, they praise God, they celebrate this great miracle - the birth of Jesus Christ. Emmanuel. God with us! Not because of some miraculous proof that confirms that Jesus is actually the messiah. But simply because what the angel said was true.

Jesus outgrew the manger, but Jesus has not outgrown his penchant for showing up amid the ordinary. Jesus continues to be found in the most ordinary, shocking, surprising places. Jesus is found in his body, the church. In the women and men who make up our parishes and congregation. Jesus is found in the sip of wine and taste of what is "technically" bread. Jesus is found in the stories and laws and letters of a book so profoundly ordinary at times that Christians have shuddered to think God could be found there. These may not be an animal's feeding trough, but they are as ordinary a place as that first Christmas. They are as surprising a place to find our salvation and hope as any. Like the shepherds we approach them and we don't find anything shining or miraculous. We find things shockingly ordinary.

Christmas calls us to put aside our penchant for imagining how God should be encountered. At Christmas, we are reminded that God shows up in his own way. Sometimes with great fanfare, sometimes without. We cannot know in advance. All we can know is that Jesus has promised to be present in these things. That we would find him there.

December 20, 2020

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The Fourth Sunday of Advent

2 Samuel 7: 1-11, 16; Canticle 15; Romans 16: 25-27; Luke 1:26-38

The Rev. James M.L. Grace


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

            “Oh, the places you will go!”  “What great things are in store for you.”   “I want you to be a Bishop one day.”  These are all things which have been communicated to me over the years since I was a child.  They are the normal platitudes of high school, college, or seminary commencement addresses: a bright future lies ahead for you, you will have great success, etc.  Many of you might have been fed the same diet of platitudes, and some of you might feel the burden such platitudes can carry.  You might be wondering – “is this all there is?  I expected and wanted so much more.” 

If there is any subtle message to adults and youth in our country today, it might be the quiet specter of upward mobility.  We all hear it don’t we?  The television advertisements this time of year which feature happy family gatherings with lots of presents under the tree, tables full of food.  Those images may or may not match with your reality.  The world, and sadly, the church at times reinforces the idea that we should be seeking promotions in our work, and increases in our salaries. We should be seeking out larger homes to live in.  This is not the Gospel, nor do I believe it is God’s plan for us.

            There is that phrase – “God’s plan.”  Often those words – “God’s plan” are used to describe marvelous and wonderful things God has planned for us.  I rarely hear someone tell a patient dying of cancer “what a wonderful plan God had for you.” I want to be clear – I personally believe God has a plan for all of us, and it has nothing to do with upward mobility.  God’s plan for all of us is personal growth.  This is not easy, it is often painful, and in the growing up process we learn things about ourselves we do not like.   That is okay.  Remember that the path which seems to offer the greatest challenge is the one most likely to lead you in the right direction. 

            God had a plan for Mary.  When the angel Gabriel appeared to her to inform her of the perplexing news that she was to give birth to God’s son, she uttered some of the most profound words in all the Bible.  She said, “Let it be done to me according to your word.”  Notice what Mary does not say.  She does not say, “let it be done to me according to your word, but don’t let it cost me my health.”  She does not say “let it be done to me according to your word, but don’t make it too hard, or make it cost too much money.”  She does not say “let it be done according to your will, but can I get something out of it too?” 

            Mary simply accepts the angel’s words, accepting what God gave her to do.  She does not ask for more or less, she just receives what God gives.  She does not ask God to make things other than the way they are.  How many of us do the same in our lives?

            When you are faced with a serious financial predicament, or if the results of the biopsy are unfavorable, what do you say to God?   Do you say, “get me out this problem” or do you say, “let it be done according to your word?” 

            I have heard it said before that religion is something for people who are scared of hell, and that spirituality is for people who have already been there.  If you have experienced a living hell, then you are well acquainted with those hard emotions of uncertainty, pain, and torment.  I have.  For a long time, I looked back on my hell experience as wasted time.  Now, with some perspective, I see that my own personal hell was a blessing.  It was a blessing because it led me to understand the grace of Mary’s words: “let it be done according to your word.” 

The spiritual life is not a life of upward mobility, it is the opposite.  It is the life of downward mobility, of emptying yourself, losing your ego, of walking through your own hell and living to tell about it - whatever you want to call it.  Mary was chosen as God’s mother because she understood this.   She let go.  She was willing.  “Let it be done with me according your word.”  Let it be done.  Let it be.  AMEN. 

December 13, 2020

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The Third Sunday of Advent: Year B

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11 |Psalm 126| John 1:6-8, 19-28

The Rev. Bradley Varnell

Priests and Levites leave Jerusalem and come to the wilderness by the Jordan to see John and investigate what he’s up to. They wonder who he is and why he’s doing what he’s doing. Could he be the messiah? Maybe Elijah? Maybe the prophet? In other words, could John be the hope of Israel? John, however, is not the hope of Israel. John is simply a witness, testifying to the light which was breaking over the whole world. John is simply the voice calling out in the wilderness: make straight the way of the Lord!

To better appreciate what John is doing I think we have to pay attention to what comes just a few verses after our lesson, starting at verse 29. John sees Jesus, he looks and he says “behold here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. This is he of whom I said, ‘after me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me. I myself did not know him, but I came baptizing with water for this reason - that he might be revealed to Israel.’” John did not know Jesus was the light he was bearing witness to. John knew that someone was coming, that a Messiah was on his way but John didn't know the who, the what, or the when and still John was in the wilderness baptizing and preaching calling the people of Israel to lives of repentance, calling the people of Israel to turn back to God, to make a space for God's salvation to arrive in the person of the Messiah.

John was in the wilderness, in this place where God had acted again and again in Israel’s history. John was there preparing for God to act once more, but John himself didn't know the details.  John was called to be the forerunner, to remind the people of the promises of God, promises to never forsake them, promises to be with them, promises to liberate them. So, John is out here preaching and baptizing and the pharisees send Levites and priests to go out and see John. They ask, “who are you? Are you the one we're waiting on? are you the one who we’re waiting on?” And all John can do is point away from himself and say “no, I am not the one, but one is coming after me.” And I imagine the priests and the Levites saying, “Well, who?” and John saying, “I don't know.” And then they say, “Well, when?” and john saying, “I don't know.” And then they say, “Well, where?”  and John saying, “I don't know.”

John doesn't know the details John simply knows that God will act. John was undoubtedly raised in the synagogue and in the temple where he heard the stories that the Jewish people told again and again, stories of heroes, stories of salvation, stories of deliverances large and small. John grew up knowing that the God he worshiped was a God who promised to save and who made good on those promises. So, John could look forward and know how God would save again.

John the Baptist figures prominently in the advent season. He gets two out of the four weeks of advent devoted to him. We kind of think of advent as this season of preparation for Christmas but we spend a lot more time on John the Baptist than we do on any kind of christmassy theme. We spend so much time because John reminds us of where we are in our history. Advent is a season in which we remember that God came once, and that God will come again. It’s a season in which we remember how God has delivered his people once before and will deliver them again. In advent we look to John the Baptist because he is the embodiment of what it means to live as an advent person, and whether we are in the season of advent or not, we are called to live as advent people.

John shows us that we are to be a people who proclaim the coming of God, who proclaim the mighty acts of God for our salvation and our restoration and our fullness. We, like John, are called to be a people preparing the way of the Lord, preparing for the coming again of Christ in glory to judge the world and to set all things right. That's why week after week, year after year, in pandemic and out of pandemic the church worships. We worship in order to remind ourselves of the God who has acted and the God who will act.  Week after week we come and we hear the story of Scripture so that we will remember what God has done, so we can claim the promise and the hope that what God has done for others God will do for us and for those who come after us.

  John was nurtured by the faith of Israel and it was that faith that allowed him to proclaim even when he didn't know the fullness of the story that God was going to act. We too must ground ourselves in our own story, the story of scripture and the story of the Saints. Our job as Christians is to live lives that proclaim what God is going to do. We are to proclaim justice, to practice forgiveness, to dispense grace.  We are to look boldly to the coming again of Jesus Christ, to await with hope the day when God will act to bring to fullness every work of justice, every cause of joy, every gesture of mercy, the day when God’s salvation will flow over our world like a rushing river, when God will be all in all, and when death and suffering and sin will be more. That is the hope of advent. That is the hope of Jesus. That is the hope of our faith. Amen



December 6, 2020

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The Second Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11; Psalm 85: 1-2, 8-13; 2 Peter 3: 8-15a; Mark 1:1-8

The Rev. James M.L. Grace

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

            During college, which seems like forever ago, I worked several different jobs.  The job I enjoyed the most was working as an on-air personality for a music radio station in Austin.  I used to work the graveyard, or overnight shift, and at the top of every hour we had to do the station identification, which was something radio stations back then (and now) were legally required to do. 

            The station I worked for had an array of various station identifications you choose from, most of which were pretty funny.  My favorite was one that began with these words: “Jesus is coming.  Look busy!”  And then it would roll into the station identification: “107.7 KNNC-FM Austin, TX.” 

            Whenever we are in the Advent season, I think of that Station identification, primarily because Advent is all about that expectant waiting for Christmas – the big day.  The season we are in -Advent -  is about waiting for the birth of the Christ child, but it is also about waiting expectantly for his return.  I used to not like Advent much at all, which was because I was not very good at waiting.  Life has taught me the importance and value of waiting, and now Advent is one of my favorite seasons. 

            Our reading from 2 Peter today addresses this problem of waiting.  It was written sometime around 80 – 90 CE.  That date is important, seeing that it was written some 50-60 after the date of Christ’s death and resurrection.  At that time, Christians believed Christ’s return was imminent.  Some of them had been waiting 50-60 years for it.  Have you ever waited that long for something?

            The scholarly term for this long period of waiting  is “delayed Parousia.”  That is a fancy way of saying “someone who is running extremely late to the party.”  It appears that Christians living during the first few decades after Jesus died expected that they would see him return during their lifetime.  This, as we know, did not happen.  They spend many years “looking busy” waiting for Christ to return. 

            Perhaps people were beginning to lose faith, since his return seemed nowhere on the horizon.  These circumstances might help to explain why the author of this letter quoted Psalm 90, verse 4, which says “a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past or like a watch in the night.” 

            In other words, 2 Peter does not answer the question of “how long do we need to look busy until Jesus returns?”  It does remind us, more importantly, that to God a thousand years are like a day.  God’s time is not like ours. 

            The purpose of Advent, and of God’s timing, is not for us to try and force our own solutions.  They never work, anyway.  Instead, the purpose of Advent, and God’s timing, is to lay our entire lives at God’s feet, and to remember that we are not in control of our time, we don’t get to call the shots, we don’t get to tell God when to show up.  Instead, Advent teaches us humility.  We learn to wait.  We learn to trust.  God will show up.  God will appear when God is ready to do so.  AMEN.  

November 29, 2020

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First Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 64:1-9; Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18; Mark 13: 24-37

The Rev. Jeffrey Bohanski


In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Let me be the first person to welcome you to the new year of 2021! Happy New Year!

Nope, I have not had too much communion wine!  Today marks the first day of the new church year.  The new liturgical year always begins with Advent.  I read somewhere that the first Sunday of Advent is always the Sunday before our parish feast day, Saint Andrew’s Day.

I think Advent is the season of the church year that goes most counter to what the culture is doing at the time.  Everywhere one goes one sees Christmas decorations being put up.  People are buying gifts.  I heard online shopping has dramatically gone up this year due to Covid-19.  Now, I must admit I’ve already done most of my Christmas shopping online already.  The cooking shows, always popular in my house, are now all about making the perfect Christmas foods.   

While the world wants to start celebrating Christmas like a Hallmark TV Movie where all the hope is placed in the perfect new love, the perfect Christmas gift and the perfect Christmas party, today in church we talk about death and the end times.

In today’s Gospel we heard the author of Mark give an account of a conversation Jesus had with his disciples as they were leaving the temple concerning the end times.  In the story Jesus uses words from Daniel and Isaiah to talk about the forth coming disaster that will befall Jerusalem.  These words would have been well known to Mark’s community, a community expecting Jesus’ return to be eminent. One may wonder, where is the hope in that?

This week as I read and reread this Gospel, the statement Jesus uses, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not.” have stuck with me.  “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not.” Everything will pass away; the decorations, the gifts, the foods, the parties, and yes even our loves will pass away.  Jesus’ words will not.  Now this I find hopeful.

Yesterday someone posted on Facebook an old ‘70’s picture of the marquee for “Robby’s Restaurant,” a local fast-food establishment in my home town of Stevens Point, WI.  I sent a screenshot of the picture to my brother and sisters on our family text thread.  For a good part of yesterday morning we posted memories we all had of our grandparents taking each of us to “Robby’s” for lunch.  We shared the memories of the fun we had with my grandparents eating our burgers, dipping our fries in our vanilla shakes like my grandmother enjoyed doing, laughing, carrying on, enjoying life and how they made us each feel special.  Memories of eating “Robby’s” burgers and fries for lunch with my grandparents are some of my favorite childhood memories. 

Today, “Robby’s Restaurant” is no longer there.  It went out of business long ago when major fast-food chains came to town.  Come to think about it, the restaurant that replaced “Robby’s” is also long gone.

My grandparents are no longer with us, they both passed away over forty years ago.  My grandmother died first when I was in middle school.  A few years later when I was in high school my grandfather died.  I remember being with my whole family at my grandfather’s bedside when he died.  I remember sometime during that day my father told us that death is part of life.  Dad told us that he remembered when his grandfather died and then he added, today is the day his father died and one day he will die.  As a high school kid I didn’t quite get that that statement implied that one day I will die.  I know that now.  In fact, Victor and I already have our niche in the Palmer Columbarium ready, one day, to receive our ashes. 

Robby’s, my grandparents and great-grandparents have passed away, the house has been sold and changed dramatically.  This building we are in or are streaming into will one day pass away.  Palmer’s Columbarium will even one day pass away.  All these things will pass away but the words of Jesus will not.  Words like, I love you, I forgive you, be healed, love one another as I have loved you, love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, forgive seventy times seven, feed my sheep,  do not let your hearts be troubled, I am the way the truth and the life.

In a few minutes we will all recite the Nicene Creed.  We will say together:  “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. . .”  I wonder how I would be judged for living according to these words of Jesus.  I know I am very grateful to be able to ask for and receive forgiveness for the times when I have not loved my enemies, prayed for those who have persecuted me, allowed my heart to be troubled,  when I did not trust in God’s complete and abiding love and when I did not feed his sheep.  These words of forgiveness I find most hopeful.

Let me again wish you a happy new year.  Let me invite us all this Advent to embrace more fully the fact that heaven and earth will pass away but the hopeful words of Jesus will not.  Words like I love you, I forgive you, I heal you, love one another as I have loved you, love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you, do not let your hearts be troubled, I am the way the truth and the life.  And when we fail to embrace Jesus’ words let us all repent and return to God, with God’s help.  Amen

 

November 25, 2020

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Thanksgiving Eve 

Deuteronomy 8: 7-18; Psalm 65; 2 Corinthians 9: 6-15; Luke 17: 11-19

The Rev. James M.L. Grace

 

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

            I am going to go ahead and state what is completely obvious to all of us, which is that this will be a Thanksgiving unlike any of us have experienced before.  Usually each year for Thanksgiving, our house is full of people – friends and family, young and old, behaved and misbehaved.  It is always a joyful day. This year it will be much quieter as it will just be our family. 

            What is true in our home will certainly be true across countless other homes across our country.  And to be fair, while I am saddened by that, I also am reminded of something very important in the reading we hear from 2 Corinthians.  The apostle Paul writes these words: “the one who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and the one who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.”

            Paul is taking an image that was widely familiar to people at the time – sowing seed – and applying it to life.  I personally have never sown seeds before.  I’ve planted them, but never sown them, so the image is not a familiar one to me.  Perhaps it is a familiar image for you.

            The point Paul seems to make here is one we already know – we get what we put into life.  And that is certainly true in all things – especially so in rendering our thanks.  If we do not take time to say that we are thankful – even in a as strange a moment of time in history as this moment certainly is – we are not going to feel thankful. 

            When we give thanks and when we really mean it – not just pay lip service to it – our personalities will change.  That is something COVID-19 does not have the power to take away from Thanksgiving.  Sure COVID can make gathering difficult.  But COVID does not have the strength to rob us of our gratitude.  It is not that powerful. 

            So this Thanksgiving, I am going to try to do what the apostle Paul asks of us  - to be reckless in bountifully sowing gratitude and thanksgiving for the miracle that is the simple fact that we are alive and able to offer thanks.

            Earlier today in our Memorial Garden, I baptized a baby.  What an astounding thing.  To impart a blessing upon such a new life.  I was reminded of how freely God gives to us.  There is no limit to God’s giving, there is no limit to God’s blessing.  Like the sower scattering seed across the land, so to does God scatter blessings all around us.  We have so much to be thankful for. 

In closing, I will in a few moments walk down the aisle carrying holy water, and will sprinkle it upon your hands, if you desire.  Like the water I poured upon the forehead of an infant, the water sprinkled upon your hands reminds you they are holy, and that you are holy.  Sow bountifully, reap bountifully, live bountifully.  AMEN.

November 22, 2020

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Christ the King

Ezekiel 34: 11-16, 20-24; Psalm 95: 1-7a; Ephesians 1: 15-23; Matthew 25:31-46

The Rev. James M. L. Grace

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

            What is the difference between a fat sheep and a lean sheep? It is not the obvious – their size.  It is something else, and it is this – the difference between the two types of sheep is that that one is obedient to God, while the other was not.  That is one of the ideas I take away from the reading of Ezekiel today.  In the reading, Ezekiel compares two kinds of sheep: ones that are overfeed, boisterous, and who push the smaller sheep around.  Then there are the lean sheep – the ones who get pushed around by the larger ones.  Of the two, lately I have resembled more the fatter sheep, not because of my behavior, but because of my diet.  Last night I ate two ice cream sandwiches called, appropriately “fat boys.”  I also have discovered a fondness for double stuffed Oreo cookies, which my wife reminds me are not the epitome of health.    

            There is a lesson here for all of us.  The size of the sheep – big or small – does not matter.  Their strength – or lack of it – does not matter.  What separates the sheep in God’s eyes is one very simple question: which sheep are obedient?  Which sheep humble themselves before their shepherd? 

            When I was younger, I thought obedience was such – such a drag.  It was boring.  It was not fulfilling.  There was not much fun to it.  People obedient to God struck me as not living life to the fullest. 

            Perhaps embarrassing to admit, but true.  There was a time in my life where being the fat sheep was what I thought was expected of me.  “Take what you can.”  “Look out for yourself – no one else will.”  “Work hard.  Earn money, and money will buy you happiness.”  Push others around, take advantage of them, manipulate them.  Those characteristics define much of American masculinity.  I tried them – and it made me miserable.  You can easily see why. 

            At a certain point in my life I began to appreciate… obedience.  And, over time, I learned that the bravado of the fat sheep was a charade.  At the same time, the small obedient sheep began to allure me.  I found their humility attractive, because their humility was grounded in a deep and abiding faith in God – a faith that, although baptized and confirmed in the Episcopal church, I did not yet know how to have.  

            Over time I have been privileged to discover that obedience before God is one of the most gratifying things I have ever encountered.   I believe this may be Ezekiel’s point.  God favors the obedient outcast, not because they have had such a hard go of it – but because obedience is the love language of God.  If you have not tried right sizing your ego, I suggest you give it a try.  See what it feels like.  Find out for yourself if God really favors the humble. AMEN.  

November 15, 2020

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Proper 28

Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18; Psalm 90; 1 Thessalonians 5: 1-11; Matthew 25: 14-30

The Rev. James M. L. Grace


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

The other day a friend shared a story with me about her child’s first communion.  At the time of the story, my friend was a member of the Catholic church, where services of first communion are more common for young children than in the Episcopal church.  In any case, she said that as she watched her child receive communion for the very first time, she began to cry, and the tears she shed were not tears of joy.  They were tears of sadness.

 Why the tears of sorrow?  Shouldn’t a child’s first communion be a happy occasion?  An occasion of celebration?  Why the sadness?  My friend explained to me the purpose of her tears – she was afraid that her son would grow up with the same idea of God as she was taught by the church.  What kind of God was this?  It was an angry God.  A God that demanded obedience.  A God that was quick to extend the hand of punishment, rather than mercy.  That is the kind of God my friend grew up knowing.  And that was the image of God she thought her son would receive.  Which is why she cried at her son’s first communion.

 It is true that this image of God is contained within the verses of our psalm for today – psalm 90.  Verse 7: “we are afraid because of your wrathful indignation.”  Verse 9: “when you are angry, all our days are gone.”  Verse 11: “who regards the power of your wrath?  Who rightly fears your indignation?”  Those verses identify God as vengeful, angry, and full of wrath.  Not exactly popular images of God in 2020.

 While that concept of God is not particularly helpful, neither is its opposite: the image of God as the cosmic all-allowing ultra-tolerant best friend.  This “God as my best friend” portrayal of God seems more popular today, instead of its angry counterpart.  Why? 

 I think it might have to do with human pride.  Our modern society, in my opinion, has such an over-inflated sense of itself, that the fear of God has lost its relevance.  Our technology, our government, our knowledge, our economy has permitted us to ascend to a point where an angry God who humbles us has lost its value. We would much prefer God to be like - like a docile lap cat, that will sit and purr quietly and ignore us, while we go along with our important business.

I am not making light of harmful God concepts.  I lived for a long time in fear of an angry God.  And it is indisputable that God’s wrath and anger has been used to justify persecution and harm to those whom Christians deemed as outsiders.   All I am saying, is that we should not throw the baby out with the bathwater.  Maybe we need both: the disciplinarian God and the friendly God – two sides of one coin.  There is purpose in the difficult language of the psalm – at the very least it humbles us, it reminds us we are not God.  Psalm 90 starkly confronts us with our mortality and that at the end of the day, all of us are accountable to God.  Those are reasons to shed tears – not tears of sadness, but tears of joy.  AMEN.  

November 8, 2020

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Proper 27

Amos 5:18-24 | Wisdom 6:17-20 | Matthew 25:1-13

The Rev. Bradley Varnell

Dr. Susan Hylen, from Emory University, makes the point that the in the parable of the ten bridesmaids all ten start out in expectation and all ten remain expectant through the night. The problem in our parable arises because some do not plan for the possible delay of the groom. Their waiting is in vain because they don’t consider that they really don’t know when the groom will come. The message of the parable, then, is about preparing our selves for a long wait. It’s about bringing enough oil that whenever the groom finally appears we can meet him with lamps burning bright. Be prepared might be a good summary of the parable.

Yet, Dr. Hylen makes the point, a point I want to follow, that for many of us modern Christians we’re not the wise bridesmaids, nor are we even the foolish bridesmaids. We aren’t even in the bridal party. See, somewhere along the way modern Christians gave up living lives in which the expectation of Jesus’ return was central to our faith. Yet it is precisely this promise that has sustained Christians for centuries. Indeed, it is this promise that is the very reason for the existence of the church in the first place! We are not an organization of spiritual seekers, a club to debate grand questions, or a collection of do-gooders. We are, before all else, people who wait and watch in expectation.

As a nation, we have spent quite a few days waiting the results of the most recent election, and we will continue to wait as recounts take place. But friends, we who follow Christ must remember that before we are Americans, we are Christians, and our waiting does not end with certified votes or an inauguration. Our waiting only ends when Christ the bridegroom comes in glory to judge the nations, to put death to death, to free us from the sin which mars our goodness.

Ten bridesmaids, so excited for the coming of the bridegroom that they run out to wait for his arrival. Ten bridesmaids, so excited that some forget to bring extra oil! We are invited to share this excitement, to cultivate in ourselves a joyful expectation of Jesus. As I said, expectation is the very reason we exist as a church. We gather week after week, in pandemics and persecutions and triumphs and tragedies to hope together in the promise that Jesus Christ – who came and died and rose again – will come again. We gather together to remind each other and remind the world through our worship that Jesus, even now, is on his way, to cast the forces of darkness that persist in our world into the pit once and for all, transforming us and our world into the very dwelling place of God.

This future hope calls us to lives of anticipation and preparation, lives that are pregnant with the expectation that God’s kingdom is pressing closer and closer into the world.  Friends, we are invited to go out and await the coming of Jesus, to take our lamps and our oil, and prepare to meet the groom who is coming for a party! Our first lesson shows us that the day of the Lord, the coming of Jesus will not be a happy day for those caught off guard. When we are unprepared the surprise of the groom is like the surprise of finding a snake in your home. Shocking, disconcerting, panic inducing. But for those who are expecting Jesus, his coming is the beginning of a party that will not end. A party filled with abundance, with food and drinks, singing and dancing, with the joy of good friends and much laughter. Friends, our faith is not backwards looking. It looks confidently, hopefully, excitedly towards the future. I want to end with a verse from hymn 68, which John pointed me to, and which is inspired, in part, by our Gospel today. Verse 2 says:

See that your lamps are burning, replenish them with oil
          look now for your salvation, the end of sin and toil.
          The marriage feast is waiting, the gates wide open stand;
          rise up, ye heirs of glory, the Bridegroom is at hand.

 

Amen.

November 1, 2020

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All Saint’s Day

Revelation 7:9-19; Psalm 34: 1-10, 22; 1 John 3: 1-3; Matthew 5: 1-12

The Rev. JAMES M.L. Grace

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

   Blessed are those who have died in the Lord, whose names may one day be lost on earth, but known forever in heaven.   Blessed are those who have died during 2020, whether because of a virus, a hurricane, or because of social unrest in our cities.  Blessed are those who have died this year protecting us: nurses, doctors, and researchers who have courageously cared for those infected with COVID-19, women and men in our police and fire departments who have confronted unimaginable situations and horrors, giving their lives to an ultimate good of protecting our society.

            The deceased police officer, nurse, and family whose livelihoods were prematurely lost will never be forgotten.  They will never be forgotten because they are now Saints.  They are now in God’s presence in a way that none of us on this side of eternity can fully understand.  But that does not matter.  Our job, as the living, is not to understand.  Our job is simply to trust that the God who created us out of nothing, will claim us as a beloved saint the moment our heart has its last beat.  That is what Christians courageously proclaim on All Saint’s Day. 

            “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are” the apostle John writes to us today.  He continues: “what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.”

            What I believe the apostle is saying to us is simple – none of us knows what the future holds.  We do not know when a vaccine for a virus will be available.  We do not know who our next president will be.  We do not how many days remain for each of us to live.  These are matters that only God knows.  However, the apostle John reminds us this morning something upon which all of us easily, and frequently, overlook, and it is this: we are all God’s children now. 

            At this moment – we are all God’s child.  That means that God has already claimed us as God’s own.  We belong to God, and we already belonged before we were born, and we will continue to belong even after we die.  This is why we baptize on All Saints day, and we are doing two today. 

            Along the exterior fence of this church is an art installation entitled “Faces of the Other” by photographer Joe Aker.  One of the photos is of a priest named Martha Frances.  I have known Rev. Frances for fifteen years.  She died last year, however her photo’s placement upon Yale Street is a tangible reminder for to me that, even in death, there will always be a place for her.  She belongs among Saints – just like all of us.  We all belong.  We are all saints.  AMEN.

October 25, 2020

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Proper 25

Leviticus 19:1-2, 15-18 | Psalm 1 | 1 Thessalonians 2:1-8 | Matthew 22:34-46

The Rev. Bradley Varnell

To understand God’s command to the people of Israel to be holy requires we first understand what God’s holiness means. Now, generally, I think, we tend to assume that being ‘holy’ means being morally good. So, we imagine that God’s holiness means that God is morally good, morally the best. And that’s part of it, certainly. But God’s holiness in Scripture has a more encompassing meaning. God’s holiness lies in the fact that God is all-good, all-powerful, and utterly, completely, different from creation. Holiness, in Scripture, means to be set apart, and it derives from the set-apart-ness of God. God is set apart from God’s creation because God is divine, and creation is not.

So, God is Holy because God is different, God is other, and God calls Israel to be holy as he is holy. God calls Israel to be set apart for a few reasons. First, Israel is to be set apart in order to bear witness to the surrounding, gentile nations which worship other gods. Israel is called to be holy, to be different, in order to call attention to the God who rescued Israel from Egypt. Its unique way of life tells of the uniqueness of God: a God above gods who rescued his people from bondage.

Second, Israel is set apart in order that God might dwell with Israel. God’s holiness can’t simply co-exist with unholiness. God’s holiness calls forth holiness, so if God is to dwell among Israel, to literally live with the people, in the land, in the temple, then the Israelites must live holy lives. Israel – its people and places – are to be made fit for the presence and power of God to dwell among them.

Third, Israel is set apart to be holy so that God, through Israel, might bless the world. The story of Scripture is a story of rescue. We were created for relationship with God, yet humanity sinned and pulled creation from God into death and decay. So, God initiates a rescue operation to bring us back to life. From God’s chosen people, the blessings of God flow out, like a life-giving river.

So, holiness isn’t about just following the rules, though to be holy there are some rules to follow, rather it’s about living life in such a way that God is reflected in our actions as individuals and as a community. Holiness is about creating space in which God can dwell with us, in order to bless others through us. Our reading today shows us how important our relationship with others is in making us a holy people. Holiness isn’t just about offering your sacrifices or going to temple, it’s about being just in your judgements. It’s about speaking truthfully of others. It’s about living peaceably among your neighbors. The holiness of God to be reflected in Israel’s life is a holiness that is social.

Though Christians are not bound to Leviticus’ laws and rules in the way ancient Israelites were and many contemporary Jewish folks are, we are still called to be a holy people, a people set apart. This set-apart-ness requires we conform our lives to the model of Jesus Christ. The doctrine of the Incarnation – God becoming human in Jesus – means that when we look at Christ, we see what it means to live a human life that is totally and completely holy. Jesus Christ shows us what it means to be a holy person, and if we are follow Jesus, we must learn from him what it means to be holy, we must learn to be different just as Jesus is different.

Y’all have heard of WWJD? There’s a lot of wisdom in that little question. Holiness is about reflecting God, reflecting Jesus in every moment and every aspect of our life. So it’s a good start to ask What would Jesus do? What would Jesus do…in line at the grocery store, in traffic, in a fight with kids or a spouse? Beyond that though, we might simply ask Jesus directly what he would do. Jesus is our companion, always with us. Through the Holy Spirit given to us in our baptism, Jesus is always beside us, closer to us that we are to our own breath. Throughout our days we can call on Jesus and ask for his guidance in learning to live as a holy people. Now, this learning is not a becoming, this learning is about living into reality. I don’t learn what it means to be holy in order to become holy. I’ve become holy by virtue of being made a part of the body of Christ, I’ve become holy by being given the Holy Spirit. What I’m learning, what we have to learn, is how to do I live a life that reflects the reality that I am holy. It’s like marriage. A newlywed couple has to learn what it means to be married, but not in order to become married. They are learning how to live into a new reality.

Holiness is one of those things that the church in the west doesn’t talk a whole lot about, at least the Episcopal Church. But holiness is key if we want to understand love and justice – the other two great characteristics of God – rightly. Holiness is where we have to start. God is different. And God’s ways are different. And if we want to love with a Christian love, and pursue justice that is God’s justice, we first have to be a people who are holy just as God is holy. We have to be different in the way that God is different, and we have to have the courage to love differently and to seek justice differently, to live different lives than many of those around us. Sometimes, the differences might be slight, sometimes the differences will be great. We can’t know in advance how different the holiness of God will call us to be. But we cannot stop asking ourselves, how can I reflect the holiness of God in this word, in this action, in this relationship? How can I reflect the difference God makes in my life? The difference God makes in the life of the world? Holiness isn’t about being better than someone else, it’s about being more like God, like the God who is revealed in Jesus Christ. Holiness is about pointing to the God who creates and sustains our world, and who made us to be holy, just as he is holy. Amen.

October 11, 2020

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Proper 23

Isaiah 25:1-9, Psalm 23, Philippians 4:1-9, Matthew 22:1-14

The Rev. Bradley Varnell

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Paul’s letter to the Philippians is different than his other letters because he’s not really addressing a problem or conflict among the Philippians. The general tone of his letter is one of encouragement, support, and joy. This is remarkable considering that Paul penned this letter while he himself was locked away in a dark, damp Roman prison. Hardly the kind of place that produces joy. And yet the entire letter is teeming with a wonderful joyfulness on Paul’s part. A joy not derived from any earthly source, but from Jesus Christ.

Though chains can keep Paul from loved ones, from freedom, from good food and fresh air, chains cannot keep him from Jesus Christ.  Now, by this I – and Paul – don’t mean Jesus as some solution to a religious problem, but Jesus as a living and active agent in the world. Paul, even in prison, knows Jesus Christ personally, intimately. Paul, we might well say, is friends with the Lord. And this friendship, like all good friendships, produces joy.  As we come to the close of this letter, Paul encourages his friends in Philippi to claim this joy for themselves: rejoice in the Lord always; - he writes - again I will say, Rejoice. To rejoice in the Lord is to find our joy in the person of Jesus, not as a model of the religious life or a good example to follow, but as a friend. To rejoice in the Lord is to receive the joy that comes from knowing Jesus.

Of course, as Paul’s life attests, to know the joy of Christ is not to escape the sufferings of this life. It is not an easy pass out of hardship and disappointment. But the joy of Christ, the invitation to rejoice always in the risen Lord, is a joy that can ground us, moor us, and uphold us even when the disappointments of this life threaten to wash us away. The great theologian Karl Barth has said that the joy of the Christian is a “defiant ‘nevertheless’” in the face of bitterness. The joy that comes from knowing Christ allows us to face prison and peril knowing that “nevertheless,” Christ has conquered.

All of us are working to discover joy in our life. You can boil down a lot of what we do as humans to a quest for joy: we work, we marry, we sacrifice, we have kids, we make friends, we move, we study, we stretch ourselves in the hope that these things – directly or indirectly – will help us experience joy in some way. We imagine that more money, or more sex, or more recognition, more something will bring us deeper joy. And these things do often bring us joy – but after a while the sources of our rejoicing disappoint or turn sour or simply don’t work – so the search for joy continues.

The audacious claim Paul makes – in his letter and his life –is that Jesus Christ in the ultimate source of joy. That in Jesus Christ our striving after joy can come to an end. We are invited to “rejoice in the Lord always” because the joy that comes from knowing Jesus Christ never runs out. Now, it’s not that other joys go away when we meet Jesus, it is simply that they are relativized, they are put in their proper place. See, Jesus is the ultimate source of joy, Jesus is the one who fulfils our deepest desire for joy in a way that cannot be exhausted. This frees everything else in our world – relationships, food, work, beauty – to be a source of joy, but not the source of joy. The pressure is off your spouse or your kids or the bottle to provide you with boundless joy, because that has been found in Jesus.

So, rejoice in the Lord always! But how? How do we rejoice in the Lord? We can only rejoice in the Lord by coming to know him personally. And we come to know Jesus by speaking to him in prayer, hearing from him in Scripture, and encountering him in the Eucharist. The knowledge we seek isn’t like the knowledge we find in a textbook, it’s the knowledge we discover as friendships deepen and relationships mature. It’s the intimate, personal knowledge that only comes through time spent with a person. The joy of knowing Christ is ours to claim and ours to share. So many of the joys which our world promises do not fulfill. But the joy of Jesus Christ is sure and trustworthy.

Friends, I think Christianity has little to offer other than Jesus Christ. As Christians, we don’t have much to share other than Jesus Christ, and the joy which comes from knowing him. Sadly, I think we have often gotten so lost in our rites and rituals, in the business and work of being a church, that we have forgotten that all of this exists in order to help us come to know Jesus more deeply, so that we might come to know his joy more fully.  

So, friends – let’s us rejoice in the lord. As we begin gathering back together in person, as we continue navigating a pandemic, as we live with the stress of an upcoming election, as we wonder when life will return to normal again, let us rejoice in the Lord. Amen.

October 4, 2020

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Proper 22

Isaiah 5:1-7; Psalm 80: 7-14; Philippians 3: 4b-14; Matthew 21: 33 - 46

The Rev. James M. L. Grace

Let nothing disturb you

Let nothing upset you

Everything changes

God alone is unchanging

With patience all things are possible

Whoever has God lacks nothing

God alone is enough.  

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

               Over a decade ago, I attended a week-long vocational retreat called CREDO with about thirty other Episcopal clergy form around the country.  We were tasked with creating a plan in which we anticipated our future careers in the church.  It took some time to do this, and once completed, we shared them with each other.  I still have that plan from years ago, and the reason I still hold onto it has nothing to do with its quality. 

          I hold onto my CREDO plan from all those years ago because of how laughable and ridiculous what I wrote down is.  My plan charted an ambitious ascent to bigger and bigger churches, culminating in a future election at which point I would become a bishop.  So yes – ridiculous, embarrassing, and cringe-worthy, are all appropriate adjectives to describe that plan.  I view that plan now not as something to aspire to, but something to avoid. 

       I avoid that plan because it is all about chasing and romanticizing external things.  That plan I wrote out was all about climbing not a corporate ladder, but an ecclesial one – to try and grab the golden crown at the top.  I keep the plan today for two reasons: (1) it always generates a good laugh, and (2) as an important reminder about the things that are not important.

        The apostle Paul, writing in the letter to the Philippians, arrives at the same point when he lists in today’s reading all that he has accomplished in his life, his pedigree.  He was born into the best tribe, baptized on the right day, blameless before the law.  If Paul went to that same retreat, that might be what his plan would look like.  Upward mobility, accomplishment, power.

But Paul has wisdom and courage to say, “I regard all of it as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”  In other words, Paul says of all his accomplishments, all the power, the respect he has received – he calls it “loss” or more accurately translated – he calls it garbage, trash.  Meaning – none of it matters. 

          What wisdom there is here for all of us.  The humility Paul demonstrates in labeling as garbage the things he once held so dear is so freeing for all of us.  That CREDO plan I wrote out?  It would go great as birdcage liner.  What that plan represented to me was once very dear and important to me.  It no longer is, because – because of God.  I thought I needed that plan, I thought I needed accomplishment to earn God’s love.  Turns out – we do not.  God loves each of us no matter what is written on our plan.

          Thank God for open eyes.  Thank God for eyes to see how much of what we hold so dear is really garbage, because those things hinder our relationship with God.  Take out the garbage.  Get rid of what you hold so dear – make room instead for God.  AMEN.   

October 18, 2020

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Proper 24

Isaiah 45: 1-7; Psalm 96: 1-13; 1 Thessalonians 1: 1-10; Matthew 22: 15 - 22

The Rev. James M. L. Grace

Let nothing disturb you

Let nothing upset you

Everything changes

God alone is unchanging

With patience all things are possible

Whoever has God lacks nothing

God alone is enough.  

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

            Between a rock and a hard place is where Jesus finds himself this morning.  Confronted by the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and the Herodians, three groups pining for Jesus’ attention, coming to him with a question with seemingly no right answer: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor or not?” 

            If Jesus were to answer you should not pay taxes to the emperor, he would be arrested by the Roman authorities for sedition.  If he were to answer that you should pay taxes, he would lose all credibility since Roman tax dollars went to the construction of pagan temples and support of the Roman military.  There is no right answer for this question.  It is a no-win scenario for him. 

            That is until Jesus answers the question, replying “give to the emperor what belongs to the emperor, and give to God what belongs to God.”  It is a simple answer, and it is the right answer.  The people heard the answer, and they were amazed.  As they should have been.

            Jesus navigates what could have been a very difficult situation with ease and grace.  He is not concerned about what anyone - not the Pharisees, the Sadducees, or the Herodians – think of him.  Jesus knows that the Emperor does not have any real authority, he is a “straw man”, a symbol.  Jesus knows that the only one with any authority is God, period. 

            Because Jesus knows this, he is free to answer truthfully, declining the invitation to an argument.  And in doing so, everyone was amazed.  I imagine at that moment it must have been so obvious to everyone present that it was Jesus, not the Emperor, not anyone else, who truly spoke with authority.

            You know it must be stewardship season when readings like this reading from Matthew appear.  It is certainly not coincidental.  By now stewardship materials have likely arrived in your mailbox at home.  I hope you take time to carefully read through them.  A lot of work went into creating this year’s stewardship campaign.  I have one simple stewardship message, and it is this: every pledge to St. Andrew’s matters.  The amount you choose to pledge – that is between you and God.  Every pledge matters.  The truth of stewardship is very simple: if you want to keep what you have, you must be willing to give it away.  Give to God what belongs to God.  AMEN.

September 20, 2020

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Proper 20

Jonah 3:10 – 4:11; Psalm 145: 1-8; Matthew 20: 1 - 16

The Rev. James M. L. Grace


Let nothing disturb you

Let nothing upset you

Everything changes

God alone is unchanging

With patience all things are possible

Whoever has God lacks nothing

God alone is enough.  

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

            To Jonah’s great disappointment and frustration, God forgives and shows mercy toward the people of Nineveh.   Nineveh (modern day Mosul, Iraq) was a city where very few, if any, Jewish or Hebrew people lived.  The source of Jonah’s frustration comes from God showing mercy to gentiles (non-Jews) living in Nineveh.  This was very problematic for Jonah because God did not demonstrate that same kind of mercy to the Jewish people in Israel, whose cities were attacked by people from the region of Nineveh.  God did not intervene.  God did not show up.  Jonah is angry.  God responded to Jonah’s anger not with appeasement, or pandering, but with a question.  God asked, “Should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do not know their right hand from their left?

            In other words, God told Jonah “Who are you to judge who is right or wrong?  Who are you to judge who should receive mercy and who should not?”  It was, and still is, a provocative question, a question not intended only for Jonah, but also for us.  Today, in a climate fueled by political divisiveness, many of us feel righteous in our condemnation of those whose political opinions are contrary to our own.  Whatever our political affiliation may be, all of us are guilty of pointing the finger and judging a person supporting the opposing party.  The problem with that is two-fold: (1) that person whom we are pointing the finger at is a child of God, loved by God as much as God loves you.  (2) When you point a finger in judgment toward another, there are three fingers pointing back at you. 

            I keep a sign taped onto my bathroom mirror that which says: “You are looking at the problem.”  The problem is not the other person’s political views which are different than my own.  The problem is my delusion in thinking that I am right.  One of the best things you can say in an argument with a person with whom you disagree are these words: “maybe you are right.” 

            God challenged Jonah to see things in a different way – to see how maybe the people of Nineveh were not so bad, maybe they did deserve mercy, and maybe Israel did not.  None of this was easy for Jonah, and none of it is easy for us either.  It is easier for us to live our lives thinking we are right, thinking that our views are the correct ones, thinking that we know our right hand from our left.  Many choose to live their lives this way, tragically. 

            As we draw nearer to a presidential election, maybe all of us could use the weeks ahead to show mercy the other side, and to not judge.  Maybe we could use this time to be producers of harmony, rather than of confusion.  To realize maybe we are not right, and that is okay.  That is a hard lesson to learn.  It is hard because to say we do not know or to admit we are wrong because it means our egos must get small.  And that can be hard for many of us.

            The truth is, however, the smaller our egos get, the more connected to God we become.    We do not know what happened to Jonah.  We are not sure how the story ends.  Maybe Jonah lived out the rest of his life mad at a God who would show mercy to his enemy while punishing his own people.  Or maybe Jonah learned to see a wider perspective - because he learned how much he did not know.  AMEN.

September 13, 2020

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Proper 19

Genesis 50: 15-21; Psalm 103; Matthew 18: 21- 35

The Rev. James M. L. Grace

            Forgiveness.  That is what all our readings have in common today.  Forgiveness.  Specifically, the forgiveness of God. 

            In the reading from Genesis this morning, we hear part of what might be a familiar story to you about one of the great patriarchs of the Jewish faith, a man named Joseph, who was beaten by his jealous brothers and pushed into the bottom of a well by them.  Fast forward a few years, and those same brothers, who did Joseph such harm, now find themselves in the awkward position of petitioning Joseph, whom they do not recognize, for assistance.  Once Joseph reveals his identity to his brothers, they rightfully are afraid of retribution, punishment, or that Joseph will justifiably open up a can of you-know-what on them.  He does not. 

            Instead he says them: “Do not be afraid!  Am I in the place of God?  Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good . . . so have no fear, I myself will provide for you and your little ones.”   Joseph forgives his brothers who treated him so unfairly.  We should go and do likewise.  End of sermon.  Not really. 

            Joseph is a model of forgiveness, sure, but how many of us, when we are wronged, find it so easy to forgive?  That is the problem, isn’t it?  Most of us are not like Joseph.  Most of us do not forgive so easily.  Why?

            There are of course many reasons, but most of them boil down to this: we hold onto our resentments of others because of how they unfairly treated us.  Why do we this to ourselves?  Why do we hold onto our resentments toward others?  I might be able to offer two answers – the first is that maybe the reason we do so is because then we can use our resentments to justify whatever emotions we are feeling: jealousy, anger, envy.  If you hold onto the resentment, if you refuse to forgive, then you can engage all those emotions as you want.  You can be as angry, jealous, self-righteous, or envious as you want to be.

            Perhaps another reason why we hold onto our resentments of others and delay forgiveness is because we find ourselves attracted to the role of being a victim.  “Poor mistreated me; I don’t get any respect.  No one appreciates everything I do.”  I know some people who are really good victims.  They seem to relish it.  The only problem is, no one relishes being around them, including me. 

            The model Joseph sets before us – forgiving at all costs – is nearly perfect, but not quite.  There is one thing missing, and it is the necessary foundation of all forgiveness.  God.  Often, we choose not to forgive because we just do not have the power to.  The injury was too much, the offense too great, the pain too hurtful.  We cannot forgive.  If that describes you, then yes you might not be able to forgive.  But God can.  God can forgive what you are unable to if you allow it.  God will not force the forgiveness.  You must allow God to let happen.  Do so through prayer.

            Forgiveness is the key that unlocks the prison cell many of us find ourselves wasting away in.  Right now, there is someone in your life you need to forgive.  And you probably will not, until the pain of the resentment you have against that person is so heavy your soul can bear it no more.  Ask God to partner with you.  Invite God in, let God forgive what you cannot.  Your life will never be the same.  AMEN.

August 30, 2020

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Proper 17

Jeremiah 15:15-21; Psalm 26:1-8; Matthew 16:21-28

The Rev. James M. L. Grace

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God, please help us to set aside everything we think we know about ourselves, our challenges, our faith, and especially You; so we would have an open mind and a new experience of all these things.  Please let us see your truth.  AMEN.  

            Years ago, when I was in seminary I worked as a chaplain at Johns Hopkins hospital in Baltimore, Maryland.  I was part of a group of other seminary students from across the country who gathered there to learn about ministry in a clinical setting.  Each student was assigned a different part of the hospital to work in – one of my assignments was the level one trauma emergency room.  As a hospital located centrally in urban Baltimore, I saw a lot of activity in the ER at Johns Hopkins.  Gunshot wounds, knife stabbings, traumatic amputations, heroin overdoses.  As a chaplain, my role was to enter these crisis situations and attempt to provide some amount of pastoral comfort, some assurance of God’s presence during chaos. 

            There was nothing I read in seminary that prepared me for this.  There was no class that outlined for me how I was to minister to people in trauma.  But I did it, anyway.  Not perfectly, but as best as I could.  The was the point of the chaplain residency – to learn to minister on your feet – to throw you into the deep end to see if you could swim.  It was hard.  Day after day of trauma, death, pain, suffering, took its toll on me.  For the first time, as a hospital chaplain, I began to understand the gravity of my future vocation.

            Two thousand years ago somewhere in the desert outside Caesarea Philippi, another group of people found themselves in a similar predicament.  They were the disciples, that inside group of Jesus’ followers who knew him well and saw him do extraordinary things.  But like me in the hospital, the disciples did not recognize the weight of their calling until Jesus shares with them what it means.  Jesus says to them that his fate would lead him to Jerusalem where he suffers before the political and religious authorities before facing execution.

            Let us just say that the disciples were not excited to hear this news.  One of them, Peter, found this news very disappointing.  He was expecting Jesus to be person who would lead Israel to rise against the Roman Empire, who claimed Israel at the time.  Israel wanted independence, freedom from Rome, and Peter thought Jesus was the person who would lead Israel down this path.  Imagine Peter’s disappointment when he hears Jesus say that he is to undergo great suffering and to be executed.  Peter speaks out saying “God forbid this, Lord!  This must never happen to you!” 

            Peter spoke out as he did because he probably loved Jesus and did not want something terrible to happen to him.  But Jesus condemns Peter’s words, saying “Get behind me Satan, you are a stumbling block to me for you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.”  These words are Jesus’ way of saying to the disciples that if they are serious about following him – if they are ready to grow up – then they need to understand three things: they must deny themselves, they must take up their cross, and they must follow.  It is at this moment, I believe, when Peter and the disciples start to feel the weight of their calling.   Before this moment, they were still in the classroom, now things get real.  The stakes are high.  And those three things: deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow are instructions for us today.

            But what did Jesus mean when he said that we are to deny ourselves?  What was he talking about?  What are we supposed to deny ourselves of – things? Possessions?  Just giving up things will not make us Christian; it just means that we have fewer things.  To deny yourself, I believe, means that we quiet ourselves, quiet our ego, quiet the part of our mind that is saying “More this! More that! Better job!  A more attractive spouse!  A faster car!  A bigger house!” To deny ourselves means we turn the volume down on that voice so that we can hear God’s voice, the true voice. 

            When Jesus says that we are to take up our cross, I believe he means that the spiritual life involves work.  It is not easy or comfortable.  But spiritual wakefulness does not come from doing things that are easy or comfortable.  Spiritual wakefulness comes from pushing ourselves.  Think about when you must have physical therapy after a surgery or injury.  You are not going to get better unless you push yourself in a way that often hurts.  The pain you endure in physical therapy is the price you pay for healing.

            The same is true with our spiritual lives.  The spiritual life involves sacrifice, but not sacrifice as we might think – like giving something up.  The word sacrifice literally means “to make something sacred.”  So, when we take up our cross, we are taking up a new kind of life, a life that is sacred.  Seen this way, “our cross to bear,” whatever it may be, is no longer burdensome, our cross to bear is a gift, a holy gift. 

            When Jesus told his disciples to follow him, he wanted them to understand that following him would have a cost.  And the cost was not one that could be explained in advance.  The only way to understand the cost of discipleship was for the disciples to follow Jesus unto the end.  It is just as true for us.  Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow.  A journey of a lifetime begins with one step.  Take yours today.  AMEN.