Sunday, July 16, 2023

The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 25:19-34; Psalm 119:105-112; Romans 8:1-11; Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

The Rev. Clint Brown

Tradition calls it the Parable of the Sower and tradition has provided us with a traditional interpretation, but why settle for one way of reading the story when you can have three? – which is what I’m going to do for you today. As I see it, there are at least three different ways of interpreting this parable and I’d like to acquaint you with each of these alternatives. It’s my hope that you will not leave here today without the benefit of some food for thought – some new way “in” to a familiar favorite.

1. The Parable of the Sower

The first of these puts the entire focus on the person planting the seeds, the Sower, rather than on us, as in the traditional interpretation, and so this reading is the one most properly called The Parable of the Sower. To understand it, one must be acquainted with the idea of “broadcast farming.” In the old days they did not furrow the ground into neat rows the way that we do today but, instead, slung or broadcast the seed out in all directions. Sometimes this happened before the plowing, sometimes after, but, in whatever order, the seed was distributed indiscriminately and it was all but certain that some would fall in places where it could not grow. Incidentally, this is why the term “broadcast” was adopted in the early days of radio. The signal, emanating from a source, was simply sent out indiscriminately and could be picked up by anybody in any direction with a receiver. Yet this kind of uncertainty did not deter the farmer. No farmer in his right mind would sacrifice the certainty of some harvest, so the inevitable loss of some seed had to be accepted. In this interpretation, Jesus would have us see, first and foremost, not the waste of seed but the extravagance of this act by the Sower, who is God, broadcasting indiscriminately, not knowing for sure on what kind of soil the seed will land, and yet scattering it abundantly nonetheless. In this reading, the birds, the thorns, the rocky ground, these are not allegory, only types of obstacles familiar to every farmer in every time and place, and the lesson is that it is like that for us, as well. We are not to be paralyzed into inaction just because of the inevitable setback. We also are to sow extravagantly into the lives of everyone we meet, for who knows where our efforts may find a place to take root? Ask any teacher, as I was for 11 years, if they do not wonder what impression they are making or in whose life they are making a difference? Time and time again we find that the most surprising and wonderful human beings often grow out of the most awkward, incorrigible, and undisciplined little sprouts. Maybe you were once one of those students whom your teacher didn’t quite know what to do with? But you turned out all right in the end. Since none of us can know the ultimate results of our labor, all we can do is plant, water, and tend the little bit of ground we have been given to the best of our abilities. Knowing as we do that good often enough comes from the most unexpected places, should we not also sow as extravagantly as our Lord? That is the Parable of the Sower.

2. The Parable of the Four Soils

But a second possible interpretation is probably the one with which we are most familiar, which we will rename The Parable of the Four Soils to more accurately reflect its focus. The focus here is no longer on the Sower, but, as I said before, on us. It asks of us, What kind of disciple will you be? The seed that is sown is God’s Word, and we are represented as varying classes of “germinated disciples” who have begun to grow. We are told that the life of any would-be disciple of Christ is fraught. There are obstacles that come from outside of us that try to steal the good Word that has taken root, and also troubles within us that can suppress and smother it. There are anxious cares, the lure of wealth, various addictions, pride. The lesson we are meant to draw is that the work of discipleship is not passive. It is not only a matter of accepting the Gospel, but also of holding onto it in spite of hardship and persecution and temptation. Against all these assaults and dangers, the disciple of Christ must be prepared to make a defense. So then, says the Parable of the Four Soils, judge for yourself the state of your discipleship and with what kind of ground you receiving the word of Christ.  

3. The Parable of the Miraculous Yields

Finally, there is what we might call The Parable of the Miraculous Yields, for despite how much we may worry ourselves about what we are doing, in my opinion the emphasis of the story should not finally be on us at all… but on God. The point is this: in God’s Kingdom, the efforts of the Sower – who, you will remember, is God broadcasting away – produces a harvest that is massive – so much greater than any ordinary Middle Eastern farmer had a right to expect. We read of superabundant yields of a hundredfold, sixtyfold, and thirtyfold. In fact, for an average farmer in the time of Jesus, sevenfold could be counted a very good year while tenfold was true abundance. Here the minimum yield is thirtyfold, three times the best that anyone could hope for. And, well, sixty- and a hundredfold? Those kinds of numbers were nothing short of miraculous. The Word of God, you see, will not return empty but will accomplish that for which God has purposed (Isaiah 55:10-11). So while the theologians can go on debating the relative contributions of human agency and “works righteousness” in the process of our being saved, on this matter this particular interpretation forces us to concede that these matters must take a back seat to grace. Faith is and ever will be a gift of God and fruitful discipleship is the work of God in us. It is a nice exercise in displacement, removing ourselves from the center of the picture where we so much like to be, and putting God there. Here is a clarion call to recognize that the focus of our discipleship should not finally be inward, wasting precious energy on ourselves, but directed outward to address the needs of a suffering humanity. God is already at work sowing extravagantly into the world; our task is simply to join in that grace-filled work.

So, there you have it, three parables for the price of one: (1) the Parable of the Sower who sows extravagantly into everyone; (2) the Parable of the Four Soils which asks with what kind of heart you are receiving God’s Word; and, finally, (3) the Parable of the Miraculous Yields which displaces us from the center of the picture and returns God there, asking of us only to serve faithfully the Lord of the Harvest. Which of these, I wonder, did you most need to hear today?

Sunday, July 9, 2023

The Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67; Psalm 45:11-18; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

The Rev. Clint Brown

Today I would like to talk about the Gospel reading and its imagery; in particular, two of its images: the somewhat puzzling, even random story about the children playing in the market and, second, Jesus’s imaginative use of the old metaphor of the rabbis – the draft animals’ yoke. At first there would not seem to be any connection between the two, but it will be my purpose to try and discover one and what that might mean for us today.

After an encounter with some messengers sent by John the Baptist, who now sits in prison, the scene opens with Jesus addressing a crowd of curious onlookers. He takes advantage of their curiosity to explain to them the importance of John. John, he says, was a true prophet, like the prophets of old – bold, zealous, absolutely committed to his mission – and, especially in his rough dress and manner of life, representative of a philosophy of life altogether different from that of the self-righteous, self-important, self-serving leaders occupying the corridors of power. And, just like the prophets of old, he has been misunderstood, not only by them, which was to be expected, but even more tragically by the crowds. The situation, he says, strikes him as no different from a group of children at play who pout when they don’t get what they want. We played our flutes, didn’t we, why do you not dance? We wailed our hearts out, why do you not accompany us with a song? John the Baptist had come neither eating nor drinking but with a stern demand for repentance, but most people had thought that too extreme, if not dangerous. And Jesus came eating with tax collectors and sinners and entering into joyous fellowship with others and the Pharisees had thought that an affront to the Law. Why if John’s disciples fasted, did not yours (9:14-17)? A true prophet would know to keep Sabbath and not heal. And now we see Jesus’s point. No matter in what guise God had reached out to this generation, they were obstinately set against it. Neither John with his strictness nor Jesus with his easy manner had danced to their tune or sung their songs. So who could blame Jesus for being just a little frustrated and left to wonder just what could satisfy these people? And, in the final analysis, the answer was that nothing could – nothing could satisfy them because they weren’t looking for correction or further alternatives. They already had the answers they wanted. Jesus rightly perceived what so many of his generation were blind to, that they were destined to topple over under the sheer weight of their indifference and conceit. This is the first image.

The second image Jesus gives is that of a yoke. Now for those of you who are imagining an egg or don’t know precisely what I’m talking about, I will tell you. A yoke is an appliance of animal husbandry. It is the wooden frame placed upon the necks of two draft animals that allows them to pull a heavy load, like a plow or a wagon, in tandem. By yoking the animals together, it maximizes the effect and you get more out of their effort than if they were harnessed separately. Over time it is understandable why this should have become a standard metaphor to illustrate obedience and subordination, and the rabbis spoke of the yoke of the Torah or the yoke of the commandments. Each of these were understood to restrain you and set limits upon your freedom – much like a yoke.

But here Jesus does something quite remarkable. He goes beyond this standard application and introduces paradox. My yoke is “easy;” my burden is “light” (v. 30). Now you may well ask, What yoke is comfortable? What burden is light? A yoke introduces restriction and constraint and this is obnoxious to us, yes, but does it not also enable? Is it not simultaneously a burden and a possibility? And then Jesus goes one step further. No Jewish teacher had ever told a disciple, Take up my yoke, and yet here is Jesus audaciously saying precisely that. He is claiming that he is Torah. He is Revelation. He is the totality of what God wishes to make known of God’s nature, God’s purpose, and what God would have us to do. And if we would take his yoke, we would make the easiest, most satisfying progress in life. This is the second image.

There is a Zen story that tells of two monks walking down a muddy road. They come across a young girl unable to cross a large puddle without ruining her clothes. The first monk offers to carry her across despite the fact that monks are never supposed to have anything to do with women. His companion observes this and is astonished but says nothing about it right away. But finally, at the end of the day, he cannot hold his tongue any longer and prepares to admonish his companion, I want to talk to you about that girl, to which the first monk replies, Dear brother, are you still carrying that girl? I put her down hours ago.

The things we ruminate on, the things we insist on carrying in our minds and hearts, the things we refuse to put down…are really the things that poison us and erode our souls. We dull our senses with television and wonder why we cannot see the beauty that is around us. We hold on to things outside of us instead of concentrating on what is within [and this] keeps us noisy and agitated. We run from experience to experience like children in a candy store and wonder how serenity has eluded us…. Dwelling on inessentials and, worse, filling the minds of others with them distract from the great theme of our lives. We must learn to distinguish between what is real and what is not.[1]

Jesus rightly perceived what so many of, then as now, are blind to, and that is that we are destined to topple over under the sheer weight of our burdens. And that is why Jesus says, if we would make the easiest, most satisfying progress in life, the secret is simple – to be yoked to him. Accepting Christ’s yoke means unburdening ourselves or our false assumptions and misconceptions and accepting his truth. A “Christian,” after all, literally means a “Christ-follower.” You’ve heard of the Great Commission? Here is the Great Invitation. “Come to me,” says Jesus, “and unburden yourself of all your distractions – all your cleverness – all the pain and disappointment of a life lived out of your own resources – and learn my ways. For they are altogether more simple – more satisfying – more true – and you will find rest for your souls.”

Amen.

[1] Joan Chittister, OSB, The Rule of Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21st Century (New York: Crossroad, 1992, 2010), 289.

Sunday, July 2, 2023

The Fifth Sunday after Pentacost

Genesis 22: 1-14; Psalm 13; Romans 6:12 -23; Matthew 10: 40-42; Romans 6: 12

The Rev. James M.L. Grace

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

I begin with a confession, and this is it: this sermon was not easy to write - nor is it easy to preach – because of its theme.  The theme of this sermon is Romans 6:12 which reads “Therefore do not let sin exercise dominion in your mortal bodies, to make you obey their passion.” 

 This is why I don’t want to preach – I am talking about sin, and how it affects us daily.  Yucky topic, but we are going to talk about it openly.  The Greek word for sin is hamartia – a term used for archery.  Hamartia – sin – means to miss the mark, as an arrow flung from a bow misses its target.  Sin occurs when we miss our target, where we veer wildly off course from God’s clear purpose for us.  It is when we put our minds on auto pilot and allow our bodies and desire for pleasure to drive our behavior.

Freud called this the “pleasure principle” – that human behavior is largely motivated not by what we should do or what is right, but rather our behavior is governed by what will bring us the most pleasure.  The author of Romans is saying that if we allow pleasure, or sin dominion in our mortal bodies, we are way off target. 

What does this look like in our lives?  I will give two examples from mine.  Example #1 that I am off target and am driven purely by pleasure seeking motives and allowing sin dominion in my mortal body occurs the moment my car enters the Whataburger drive through line.  If my car is in that drive through line, I am very likely craving salt, I am craving high fat food, and I want that high that comes from fast food – especially something sweet like a chocolate milkshake.  (Although Chick Fil A has the best drive through milkshakes – trust me I speak from experience).  There is nothing wrong with Whataburger, or Chick Fil A.  But if I allow Whataburger dominion over my life, if I were to eat it daily, I will eventually have significant health problems and you all will need to build a larger pulpit. 

Whataburger is a playful example, but here is an example of greater consequence.  Example #2 of me going way off target actually occurred when I came to this church nine years ago.  At that time, I had very little idea how to be a Rector, even though I had been a priest for nine years already.  I had never been a Rector before.  When I got here, I was not prepared for contentious committee meetings, disagreement, and the pressure of making decisions whose outcome would upset people.  I was a people pleaser, and when not everyone liked me, I did not have a healthy way to process that.

 As a result of church – related stress and pressure, I developed a problematic coping strategy that involved an overuse of alcohol.  Rather than talking through my feelings and confronting my stress issues face to face (which is what most healthy people would do) I instead numbed myself.  At first this was not problematic; it wasn’t a big deal.  I did not notice any health -related issues emerge from this behavior.  But over time, as my dependence upon the substance grew, so did my problems.  And this was my core problem: I purposefully allowed alcohol (instead of God) to dominate my mortal body.  It got to the point where the first thing I thought of in the morning upon awakening was not God, but when I could have my first drink.

Today, my life is very different.  Alcohol is no longer part of my life.  I am committed to a program of recovery.  The only time I am close to alcohol on a consistent basis is when I am at the altar, holding a chalice of communion wine which I choose not to drink from.  I daily ask God to have dominion over my mortal body.  My life is not perfect, and I still have a lot of spiritual work to do.  But it is much better than it was when I first came to St. Andrew’s.    

Does sin have dominion over your body?  Does sin have dominion over your soul?  These are not easy questions for us to answer.  And most of us would prefer to ignore them entirely.  Jesus, the great healer of our souls, gives us strength and courage to face whatever it is that has dominion over our lives, but we must be disciplined in asking him for it.  We must abandon the fantasy that God will deliver instant results without us having to do any real work.  God is not a fast-food drive through.  We must put in the work, daily, and it is hard.  But God will work beside us, always.  AMEN.   

Sunday, June 25, 2023

The Fourth Sunday after Pentacost

Matthew 10:24-39

The Rev. Canon Joann Saylors

The opposite of fear is faith. You may have heard that before. And yet, my faithful sisters and brothers, we fear. An image I read recently stuck with me, probably because it was so close to my reality this week: “Fear hangs on us like humidity on a summer night. It coats us front and back, and attracts all kind of grime, so that even when it’s dries it’s still sticky.”[i]

There are plenty of things to be afraid of: The Chapman University Survey of American Fears (CSAF), in an ongoing research project, listed the following top 10 fears of participants in their 2022 survey: In order, corrupt government officials, people I love becoming seriously ill, Russia using nuclear weapons, people I love dying, the U.S. becoming involved in another world war, pollution of drinking water, not having enough money for the future, economic/financial collapse, pollution of oceans, rivers, and lakes, and biological warfare. [ii]

The first one, government corruption, has been at the top of the list since 2015, although the 62.1% of people who were “Afraid” or “Very Afraid” in 2022 was a big drop from 2021’s 79.6%.[iii] I don’t have high hopes for 2023.

Maybe your greatest fear was on that list; maybe not. Maybe you are afraid of dying – interestingly, of those surveyed, only 29% named fear of dying themselves, while 58.1% were afraid of a loved one dying.[iv]

I don’t know whether this wasn’t one of the choices, or if people didn’t want to admit it, but how many of us are scared to death of people finding out what we try to hide? How much energy do we spend trying to keep our realities hidden, that our marriage is in trouble, we’re broke, our house is a mess, our children are struggling, we have health problems? How much time do we spend trying to protect our image: that we’re competent, talented, and successful, completely free from inner thoughts of critique and failure?

It’s the fear that we’ll be “found out.” That the mask will fall off. That it will get out that we don’t have our act together. That others will know that we have problems in our lives. Serious enough to distract us and keep us up at night. Or lead us to alcohol or other addictions to mask the pain.

But Jesus says, ““Have no fear,” “Do not fear,” and “Do not be afraid.”

Don’t fear the teacher. Or the boss. Or the next-door neighbor. The TikTok influencer with the carefully curated persona. Your surprisingly successful high school classmate who has their own hedge fund. The person who critiques your work…your art…your sermon. Do not fear them. You don’t need to fear, because God has counted your every hair, your every wrinkle, your every cell. And you are loved. The messed up, barely hanging together but putting up a front, maybe even hiding from yourself people that we are. God loves us. Unreservedly. No matter what we do or say or think. God loves us. What is there to fear, with that to fall back on?

Now I’m not saying that’s easy. Our brains are biologically wired to fear danger and death. Our culture has psychologically wired us to need to be “successful,” with a very helpful, albeit impossible, definition what that success is supposed to look like.

But we can resist that. The Rule of Saint Benedict contains any number of spiritual truths, including “Keep death daily before your eyes.” In other words, intentionally recall our mortality every day. Remember every day that one day, maybe today, we’re going to die. Recognize that, because for Christians death is nothing to fear. It’s not an end, but a new beginning. That should change our perspective.

So it doesn’t ultimately matter if we didn’t get into our first choice college, or the new design didn’t work out, or the shoes really don’t go with the outfit, or our front hall closet could be a SuperFund site, or if a friendship has fallen apart, or if we’re considering filing for bankruptcy, or if we can’t get past a second interview, or if we’re found out.

It’s ok. We’re ok. Even those who lose their whole lives will be ok, along with their every hair.

Brené Brown, one of my heroes, interviewed Dr. Pippa Grange, author of the bestselling book Fear Less, on her podcast. Brené summarizes one of her best takeaways from the book on her blog:

[Grange] describes “winning shallow” as a win that comes when we’re “winning to avoid not being good enough, winning to beat the other guy, winning to be seen as good enough.” It’s winning born of comparison and scarcity and self-doubt—and it’s not tied to our worth. “Winning deep,” on the other hand, is “where you actually can feel the richness of your journey, you are attached to the joy and the struggle, you are attached to the mess, and it is generally done for reasons outside of yourself and the fulfillment of our egoic needs. It is done more from a soul level—it’s done because we can and because there’s a wild desire in it.”[v]

If we let go of our fear, one bit at a time, if we “win deep,” how might our lives change? Wouldn’t it be great to find out?

AMEN.

[i] http://www.rickmorley.com/archives/3071, accessed June 24, 2023.

[ii] https://blogs.chapman.edu/wilkinson/2022/10/14/the-top-10-fears-in-america-2022/, accessed June 24, 2023:

Top 10 Fears of 2022

% of Very Afraid or Afraid

1. Corrupt government officials 62.1

2. People I love becoming seriously ill 60.2

3. Russia using nuclear weapons 59.6

4. People I love dying 58.1

5. The U.S. becoming involved in another world war 56.0

6. Pollution of drinking water 54.5

7. Not having enough money for the future 53.7

8. Economic/financial collapse 53.7

9. Pollution of oceans, rivers, and lakes 52.5

10. Biological warfare 51.5

[iii] Ibid.

[iv] Ibid.

[v] https://brenebrown.com/articles/2021/07/22/what-ive-learned-from-the-work-of-dr-pippa-grange/, accessed June 24, 2023.

Sunday, June 18, 2023

The Third Sunday after Pentacost

Genesis 18: 1-15, 21: 1-7; Psalm 116: 1, 10-17; Romans 5: 1-8; Matthew 9:35-10:23

The Rev. James M.L. Grace

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

Nothing is too difficult for God. That’s my sermon.  That’s it.  Everything I else I intend to say is just icing on the cake to that one irrefutable point: nothing to too difficult for God. Nothing is. There is no problem in your life at this very moment that is too big for God to handle.

Scripture today illustrates this point for us in greater detail in the story of Abraham and Sarah we encounter in the reading from Genesis. In this reading, the Lord appears to Abraham and Sarah in the guise of three visitors, three men. “Who were these visitors?” you may be wondering. Is God one among the three visitors or is God somehow symbolized in all three of them tighter?

Did the visitors represent the Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit? The Bible does not offer an answer to that question, nor do I. The point is that God, speaking through these visitors tells Abraham and his wife Sarah that when they return in one year’s time, Sarah will give birth to a son.

This message – that Abraham and Sarah would have a son was confirmed by God time and time again (in 15:4, 17:16, and in 18:10).  Again, in Scripture this is the third time Abraham and Sarah are told this news. Like with Abraham and Sarah, you can expect God to speak to you about major matters in your life again and again.

Sarah’s response to the visitor’s claim that she would deliver a baby at an older age was what? Laughter. The Hebrew word for laughter is “sahaq.” Sarah laughs at this news that she is to become a mother, because she is well beyond the biological age to deliver a child. And God responds with this question: “Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?” From this story derives the name of Abraham and Sarah’s child Yitzhak (related to sahaq, the word for laughter). In English, Isaac.

We are all living hard, challenging lives. Lives that are fraught with bewilderment and uncertainty. Perhaps like Sarah, we might find ourselves laughing at the idea that God is in control and that nothing is too difficult for God to accomplish. I have, many times. All of us certainly have felt times that seemed too difficult for God, where God would not heal or provide.

If we honestly feel that our problems are too big for God to manage, we are mistaken. More than likely we are trying to resolve the situation ourselves, an effort which most of the time ends in frustration. If we refuse to turn our problems over to God, then – yes – they will be too difficult for God because we have not invited God to be part of the solution.

When we surrender our most vexing and frustrating problems to God, God will oversee them for us. This is what God seems to love to do – to help us. But God can’t and God won’t unless we allow God into our heart.  Abraham and Sarah were willing to do just that.

Truly, nothing is too difficult for God IF we surrender. We must open our hearts. If our heart stays hardened by our own choosing that’s on us.  God is gracious, but not intrusive. If we want God to be part of the solution, we must first send out the invitation. AMEN. 

Sunday, June 11, 2023

The Second Sunday of Pentacost

Genesis 12:1-9; Psalm 33:1-12; Romans 4:13-25; Matthew 9:18-26

The Rev. Jeff Bohanski

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

This morning, I ask you, where are you? Where does God find you today? Who do you know who is not here who needs to hear this message?  Perhaps you could share the Good News.

In the Genesis reading we heard this morning, I noticed Abram, Sarai, and Lot were in Haran when God came calling.  In Matthew’s Gospel, Matthew was sitting at the tax booth when Jesus came calling. God came to Abram, Sarai, Lot, and Matthew where they were as they were, in their own worlds.

I’m wondering, where does God find you this morning? What booth are you sitting at?

Yesterday I was at Camp Allen.  I was there attending the annual retreat for FIND. FIND is a three-year school for spiritual direction and formation sponsored by the Episcopal Diocese of Texas. In the program people are trained to spiritual directors or leaders in spiritual formation, which is the growing of groups of people in their spiritual life through programs and or classes of a graduate’s own design.  Our classes have been held once a month in Bryan, TX since last September.  This weekend’s retreat was the final class of the year, and it was also the graduation celebration for the senior class of 2023. 

So, today Jesus comes to me as I am, tired, happy, joyous, and I feel spent.

Where are you this morning? Where does Jesus find you? Perhaps you are happy, sad, healthy or in the hospital.  Perhaps you feel too old, too young, hurt, or strong. Like Abram and Sarai, God is willing to come to you where you are as you are.  Perhaps you are happy with, or struggling with the fact you are lesbian, gay bisexual, transexual, asexual or non-binary. Perhaps you think you don’t measure up.  Or perhaps you have come to believe old messages once planted in your head by hurt people that said you were stupid, fat, or ugly. In all these places, God comes to you to, like God came to Matthew in his world, where you are as you are today.

At this point you are probably wondering where the Good News is in this sermon today.  The Good News is God, the creator of the universe comes to redeem you and to empower us with the knowledge that you and I are not alone in our struggles. Jesus is with us.  I am not alone in my exhaustion.  God is with me. God knows our struggles firsthand because Jesus has been loved and hated.  He has been accepted and excluded.  He wept at a friend’s death, and he celebrated at a wedding; he was also spat upon. God knows us where we are, as we are.  There is no use in hiding from God. 

Today our church hangings have changed back to green.  Clint and I are wearing green stoles again.  Everything will be green until November 19th.  It is “Ordinary Time.” But God is in the ordinary. Jesus is in the living of ordinary life.

This is also the season many of us have the luxury of taking vacations. Victor and I will go up to Wisconsin next week.  This summer as we vacation, I invite us all to look for and notice God in the ordinary.  Look for and feel Jesus in our struggles, our hopes, and in our celebrations.  Feel God’s presence in our pain, our suffering, our happiness, and our joy of plain life.  Look for Jesus in our loved ones and our not so loved ones.  Look for Jesus in all the people we encounter in the ordinary. Know that we are never alone.  And above all, never underestimate the importance of your call to be loved by God, the creator of heaven and earth, your creator.  Let God enter your world this ordinary time. Amen

Sunday, June 4, 2023

The First Sunday after Pentecost: Trinity Sunday (Year A)

Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Psalm 8 or Canticle 2 or 13; 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; Matthew 28:16-20

The Rev. Clint Brown

In late April of 1810, a beautiful Viennese noblewoman, Therese Malfatti, opened a letter addressed to her and watched as a piece of music fluttered out of the envelope and onto the floor. She leaned [over] to pick it up and saw that it was labeled simply: “for Therese.” The scrawled handwriting on the manuscript was immediately [recognizable]; it [was that of her] suitor, Ludwig van Beethoven. A few months shy of his fortieth birthday and increasingly desperate to marry, Beethoven had fallen in love with Therese earlier that spring and had proposed. The marriage never took place for reasons [that are] unclear, although it seems that Therese was willing, but her family was not. This little story is worth repeating, because when the music was found many years later among Therese’s effects, its dedication was mistakenly read as “Für Elise,” and the piece has been known by that title [ever since]. This, perhaps one of Beethoven’s best-known pieces, was thus no trifle for its composer but a musical love note; or [perhaps] more likely, a musical farewell to a [love that could never be].[1]

Sometime this week, I encourage you to do yourself the favor of putting on a recording of this famous piece and listening to it again with fresh ears, knowing what it meant to its composer and his doomed love affair. Imagine the impression it must have made on Therese Malfatti the first time she sat down to play it at her piano. I guarantee you will not hear its emotionally charged three minutes the same way ever again. 

Both the piece and the story capture well an essential quality about the music of Beethoven, and that is its very transparent autobiography. Music had not always been so personal. Before Beethoven, music had been intended more or less for entertainment; or, if it was “serious” music, reserved for the exclusive use of the church. But with Beethoven we see a seismic shift. Music was liberated. It could be serious about humanity as well as about God, and Beethoven was almost single-handedly responsible for this new and romantic view of music as personal testament. What Napoleon’s guns were doing to old Europe, Beethoven’s towering genius and Promethean sense of destiny was doing to music. Now music was free not only to plumb emotional depths hitherto unknown but to wax philosophical and poetic. And while no artistic effort has or can ever be completely devoid of some mark of its creator, never before had music been quite such a vehicle for personal expression.

On this Trinity Sunday, our readings celebrate the Triune God with an emphasis on creation – God as Creator. God’s creative acts are God’s means of personal expression. The Priestly writer who composed the first chapter of Genesis sometime in the early sixth century before Christ, was straining every category and means to capture the awesomeness of God’s creative activity. Compared to the gods of the peoples surrounding the ancient Hebrews, here was a portrait of how Yahweh, the one true God, had created from nothing and formed humankind in God’s own image. For his God, things were both grand and personal. And when, centuries later, Jesus spoke of the God of Israel as his Father, and commanded his small band of disciples to baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, he was making plain that God, now revealed as Triune, was not and never had been done with creating. God was and still is at work in the world, bringing something new into being every time a person accepts baptism. God’s personal expressivity continues to be on full display in both the very big and the very small, not only in the realm of nature but equally so in us. 

It is this thought of God’s continuing work in us that I most want to leave you with today. You are an expression of God’s creativity. I believe that we don’t stop nearly often enough to consider the significance of this extraordinary fact, the fact of our having an existence at all. God has, as it were, given each of us a canvas upon which to paint a life, and our manner of life, our posture towards its possibilities and its challenges, our choices, these are our paints and brushes. There will be times when we will attempt to do things far in advance of our technique and our efforts will appear amateurish; times when our picture will look alright, but we could have risked more, attempting bolder strokes or brighter colors; or when we will get halfway through a portrait and realize we need to start over again because what we are painting is not truthful, not true to ourselves and our values; there will be days, weeks, or even months and years when our canvases will be clouded over by setbacks and disillusionments and darkness blankets what was once a sunny landscape; there will be times of dryness when we completely lack the inspiration to try and sit staring at a blank canvas (in those times we might do well to ask ourselves if it is paralysis because of fear, or, worse, the realization that we don’t have anything worth saying?); but, then again, there will be those times when we get things right and everything comes together, when we will feel at the full height of our powers and produce a masterpiece. Here is the crucial thing. To know yourself to be a child of God is to know that your life has significance, that it is always worth the effort of pressing on and making the most of it. Going through the motions, just getting by, is not enough, and neither is living irresponsibly and wastefully. This life is an extraordinary gift and far too precious to reject the call to be the best that you can be.

Whether you find yourself in a high place or a low place this morning – whether you believe your life is heading down the right track or not, know this – you are the unique expression of a personal God. God has created you in order to be revealed in you.

[1] Robert Harris, What to Listen for in Beethoven: The Essential Introduction to the World’s Foremost Composer and the Hidden Pleasures of Classical Music (Toronto: Macfarlane Walter & Ross, 1996), 17.

Sunday, March 28, 2023

Pentecost

Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:25-35, 37; 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13; John 20:19-23

The Rev. Jeff Bohanski

Pray with me, A Collect for Guidance

Heavenly Father, in you we live and move and have our being: We humbly pray you so to guide and govern us by your Holy Spirit, that in all the cares and occupations of our life we may not forget you but may remember that we are ever walking in your sight; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Book of Common Prayer, page 100

Every family has its quirky inside the family vocabulary.  In my husband’s side of the family, it’s the use of the word “Coke.”  At any one of our family parties, someone will ask you “What kind of Coke do you want?” When asked that question, one needs to know you are being asked what kind of soda you would like. An appropriate response to the question would be, I would like, a Sprite, or a Dr. Pepper, or a Diet Coke, or even a Pepsi or an iced tea.  Over the years, our family has changed the definition of Coke to mean soda.

We Christians have done something similar to the word “Pentecost.”  We presume, perhaps in our arrogance, that we created that word.  For most of my life I assumed that Pentecost was just the celebration of the day The Holy Spirit descended of the people gathered in a public space. It was more or less the Church’s birthday.  For the community of the author of Acts Pentecost meant something different.

To a reader of Acts, Pentecost was a festival tied quiet closely to Passover.  Passover was the celebration of the remembrance of the events of Moses leading the people out of Egypt.  It was, or is, the powerful story of God’s redeeming God’s people from Egypt. 

The festival of Pentecost occurred fifty days later. It was an agricultural festival where the first sheaves of wheat were brought to give thanks for the harvest that was beginning to be brought in.  Prayers were also offered for bringing in the rest of the crop safely.  Pentecost was also a celebration of the remembrance of the time when Moses and the people arrived at Mount Sinai, fifty days after Passover, the leaving of Egypt.  It was the remembrance of when Moses went up the mountain and came down with the commandments for how God’s redeemed were to live according to God’s way, God’s purpose.

This is what was in the minds of those gathered in one place that one day of Pentecost when God decided to act again in a new way.  Luke writes, “There came from heaven a sound like a rush of violent wind. Tongues as of fire appeared among them, and a tongue resisted on each of them.  All were filled with the Holy Spirit.”  Biblical commentator, N.T. Write suggests that Luke uses the words, all were filled with the Holy Spirit, to indicate all followers of Jesus were united. Now these united people from all over are being empowered by the Holy Spirt to carry out Jesus’ commandment to spread the Good News. The Spirit enabled Jesus’ followers then, and still does today, to share the Good News of Jesus that God loves you.  God wants to give you the ability through the Holy Spirit to love others as God has loved you and to share that Good News with everyone.

For some of us this sharing The Good News, this evangelism, may be by standing in a pulpit or on a street corner announcing to people God’s abundant love through Jesus.  For most of us, I suspect, it’s by showing kindness.  Kindness to people we meet at the store, perhaps by helping someone reach for something on a higher shelf.  Or perhaps it’s being patient.  Patient with the person driving the car in front of you who is trying to merge in and get ahead of you.  One could show kindness and graciousness by not honking one’s horn at them. Maybe it’s by loving your neighbor by not returning a snide comment with another snide comment.  By letting their comment to simply pass unanswered.  Maybe it’s by sharing God’s love by volunteering at Lord of the Streets.

For my own enrichment, each week I listen to the podcast, Working Preacher’s Sermon Brainwave.  Each episode is a discussion lead by a Methodist Minister, a Presbyterian minister, and a Lutheran minister about the weekly readings for the coming Sunday.  These readings come from the lectionary shared by Episcopalians, Roman Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists, and Presbyterians.  The episode I heard this week was about today’s readings.  In it, one of the ministers said, “Unity is not uniformity.”  I took this to mean that all Christians can be united in Christ’s love that is empowered by the Holy Spirit, but it can look differently in different cultures or communities or in different parts of a community.  Living in, being governed by the Holy Spirit means there is no reason for fighting between denominations about particulars of theology because we all share in the love of Christ. Listening and dialogue is important, but fighting is not. I’ve read articles about how Christianity is losing followers across the country.  Perhaps if we remember how the Christians in Acts who were from all over were united in Christ’s love and lived empowered by the Holy Spirit, we can reverse this trend. 

This notion that we Christians are to be united in Christ’s love and empowered by the Holy Spirit gives me hope that perhaps there is room for both high church people and low church people in the Church of Jesus.  Perhaps a church can be home to both organ loving people, praise band loving people, and no music at all loving people.  I have hope that even a democrat and a republican, a Yankee and a Southerner can find common ground in a church based on the love of Christ that is empowered by the Holy Spirit.  I know anything is possible when we ask for help of the Holy Spirit.  Come Holy Spirit, empower us to do your will, to love and serve one another.  Amen

Sunday, May 21, 2023

The Seventh Sunday of Easter

Acts 1:6-14; Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36; 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11; John 17:1-11

The Rev. Clint Brown

On Thursday last, this church marked the Feast of the Ascension with a special service of evensong. It was our way of saying that this day, which usually falls in the middle of the workweek and tends to fly under the radar, is important. It is, after all, designated by the Prayer Book as one of the seven “principal feasts” of this Church (BCP 15). We refer to the ascension every time we say the Creed – any of the creeds – and declare that, “He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father.” The ascension sits right there alongside the big three – the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection – in our confessional life. It is, in short, a pillar of our faith hiding in plain sight, absolutely equal in significance to all the others, and the scant attention we pay to it is in no way commensurate with its importance.

The death, resurrection, [and] ascension…of our Lord…so belong together that each event is indispensable for the story of our redemption. In fact, no one aspect of the mission of Christ can be stated properly without reference to the others. [Christ’s life is what gives significance to his death.] If Christ died, but did not rise again, our faith is vain. If he rose but did not ascend, he is not gone to God the Father Almighty, he is [somewhere out there still wandering] in our world….. If he is not [now] on the right hand of God the Father, he does not reign, and we have no King.[1] 

Pull one thread and the whole garment comes undone. What the ascension is is the essential link between the Jesus of history and the Christ of faith. 

The ascension of Christ as a physical event observed by witnesses is referred to only three times in the New Testament, and, of the three, it is noteworthy that two are by the same author, Luke, who penned both the Gospel that bears his name and the book of Acts. The third, an addition to the last chapter of Mark, almost certainly dates to the 2nd century and owes its existence to the influence of Luke. On the whole, the NT seems much more concerned with Jesus’s present exalted status in heaven than with the question of how he got there, but it is certainly intriguing to consider. It is a fact that, as any wag will tell you, if Jesus lifted off of the Mount of Olives on a spring morning around the year 33, even traveling at the speed of light, he would still not have made it out of the galaxy.[2] The thought amuses me. I’m sure you’re like me – it makes you stop and think. Thought-provoking questions like this help ground scripture in reality, and I do think there is a response. It is my personal belief that God does not override the laws of physics to accomplish the divine purposes and that whatever seems inexplicable has an explanation. There are simply things we just don’t know about yet. So, wherever and whatever heaven is, I’m convinced that Jesus got there and that he’s there now, not hurtling past quasars and asteroid belts somewhere en route.  

Anyway, where the ascension really matters is not the “How?” but the “Where?”. “Where Jesus is” is at the right hand of God (Psalm 110:1), in a position of authority in the closest proximity to God. He is present to God in both his humanity and his divinity. And why that matters is this:

It is because the Son has ascended that he is able to act [in his threefold office as] King, Priest, and Prophet; to be with us in the preaching of the Word and in the Sacrament; to be with us when two or three are gathered together. His Ascension and his ubiquity, his life to God and his life to us; his presence to help us in our temptation, to convict us of sin and to offer us forgiveness; to protect, to comfort, to encourage us; to illumine, to free and empower us – to give us all the blessings of the children of God, everywhere, every time, in all states and conditions – all this is the consequence of his Ascension. He is with us because he is with God, and works with the omnipotence of God and his Spirit. When he ascended, he sent the Spirit, and with the Spirit, by the Spirit, he is God with us forever.[3]

The closest parallel I can think of to make this point comes in a scene from Star Wars. Old Obi-Wan Kenobi is in a duel to the death with Darth Vader, and it appears that it is only a matter a time before he will have to succumb; but, far from regretting his demise, he welcomes it. He says: “Strike me down, and I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.” If you have ever wondered why Christ had to go away, why he couldn’t just hang out with us and stick around, this is the answer, so that he could be released, no longer localized, no longer bound to a specific place and time; that he could be with all of us, throughout the whole world, always and forever. The ascension is the essential link between the Jesus of history and the Christ of faith. It is indispensable. Christ had to go away so that he could be near to us all. And because he has gone away, we know that he will come back, and as the Church has proclaimed since the day the disciples stood on the mountain gawking at the sky to this, we say, “Come, Lord Jesus.”

[1] J. Haroutunian, “The Doctrine of the Ascension: A Study of the New Testament Teaching,” Interpretation, 10 no. 3 (Jul 1956): 270.

[2] The Milky Way Galaxy is no less than 26,000 light years across.

[3]Haroutunian, “Doctrine,” 280.

Sunday, May 14, 2023

The Sixth Sunday of Easter

Acts 17: 22-31; Psalm 66: 7-18; 1 Peter 3: 13-22; John 14: 15-21

The Rev. James M.L. Grace

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

Roman Catholic Cardinal Jozsef Mindszenty once said these words: “The most important person on the earth is a mother.  She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral.  She need not.  She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral – a dwelling for an immortal soul.  What on God’s good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother.”  To all mothers, and to all born of a mother - Happy Mother’s Day. 

 In honor of today, I want to share – briefly –, but about my maternal grandmother.  Like my mother, my maternal grandmother was named Jean, but we all called her “Bobo.”  Bobo was married to the man I named for – James McKay Lykes, but we all called him “Buddy.” 

Bobo loved to have her feet rubbed, and we would rub her stockinged feet as she lay on the couch, wearing dresses that she had created and hemmed herself.  She was fiercely loving to her grandchildren, but she did have rules.  One of the rules of her home was – I think – that no food was allowed on her living room Afghan rug.  If you walked into her living room, carrying a plate of food she would visibly tense up, and watch you like a hawk to make sure nothing was spilled on this Afghan rug she so loved.   

Today that same rug is in our house, and we do not retain any of the same rules Bobo did around this rug.  We also have animals (two dogs) living in our home.  Last week, after returning home Saturday afternoon, we noticed an unpleasant odor in our home.  My wife followed the smell to its source, and discovered the our yellow lab had released diarrhea all over the rug.  This event, had it occurred in Bobo’s house, would have sent her into cardiac arrest, I am certain! 

But that’s why they make rug doctors, and after scrubbing the rug multiple times, I am pleased to say the rug is clean now, and no evidence of Parish’s activity upon it remains.  What a great story for mother’s day, right?  Here is why I share it. 

I have recently become aware that I have been carrying heavy psychological baggage – and I have been carrying it for a long time, longer than I care to admit.  This baggage takes the form of a resentment I have towards my stepmother.  The details of it are insignificant – but what is important is that this resentment ultimately is unproductive, it blocks a deeper connection with God, it inhibits my spiritual growth.  If I were to visualize it, the resentment looks exactly like what my dog put on the rug in our home.  It’s not pretty, and its smell repels people away.  That’s what all resentments do. 

In spite of its ugliness, I have held onto this resentment so long it has become comfortable to me.  I no longer notice it’s foul odor or mess.  I’ve stepped into it many times, and tracked its residue all over my life.  I don’t believe this is how God wishes us to live.  There is a better way to live.  How to be free of it?  I do what others have taught me to do.  I pray for this person by, name – daily – and I ask that God would pour his blessing upon her, that God would show her the same mercy, patience, grace, and love I believe God shares with me.

I cannot minimize the power and impact of praying this way.  To pray God’s blessing upon those whom, for whatever reason, you feel have treated you unjustly, is liberating, and humbling.  With God’s help, I am detaching myself from expectations of how things will be.  I am choosing to allow God to be in charge.  As a result, this ugly, foul resentment is going away, and in the place it once occupied, I am discovering a beautiful array of flowers.  That is the power of God’s healing – a reminder that it is never too late to start living.  Happy Mother’s Day.  AMEN.  

Sunday, May 7, 2023

The Fifth Sunday of Easter

Acts 7:55-60; Psalm 31: 1-5, 15-16; 1 Peter 2:1-10; John 14: 1-14

The Rev. Jeff Bohanski

It’s May! Like most Mays, all I can think of is, come on June!  We are in the midst of testing season at school. Individual testing of first graders is not easy when grades are due, and papers need to be graded.  Our air went out last week, but thankfully it was an easy fix. Next week is STAAR Math.  The children are tired and looking forward to summer. I know they hear their parents making summer plans and they can’t wait to start those plans.  Some days it feels as if I’m living in the middle of a hurricane.  This is where I am today when I hear these readings.  I’m guessing you may have your own list of issues you are dealing with. 

Yet, in all this, I find strength, direction, and refreshment in today’s readings.

In Acts we heard as Stephen looked up, he declared “Look, I see he havens open and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” In my mind’s eye I can see Stephen keeping his eyes fixed on Jesus as he was being stoned.  I believe that’s how he was inspired to say, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit, do not hold this sin against them.” By the way, did you notice that these words of Stephen were very like the ones Jesus said on the cross.

This image of Stephen keeping his eyes fixed on Jesus gives me help and strength this May.

As I keep my eyes on Jesus, I find myself pondering who Jesus is. So, I look to the Scriptures. 

In John’s Gospel we heard a few moments ago, the story takes place not after the resurrection, but at the Last Supper, that night before he died.  In it we hear Jesus telling his disciples “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the father except through me.” As a Christian I believe this and strive to live this.

Unfortunately, for a very long time, and even today, these words have been misused to instill hate or to declare war on those who do not believe Jesus is the Messiah, or who were not of our same denomination or religion or those who had no faith at all.  But I don’t think these words of Jesus were meant divide. I believe these words were not intended to be divisive but to be directions of how to build this new kingdom of his. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus.

At the beginning of this same Gospel, we hear Jesus telling his disciples “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.  These words lead me to believe Jesus is a lover of all peoples because he goes to create dwellings for us.  People in dwellings have relationship with one another.  So, it makes sense that Jesus wants us to be in relationship with one another, not in division.

In the chapter before this morning’s Gospel, Jesus washes his disciples’ feet.  In the story, Judas, his betrayer, is among those whose feet were washed that night.  Jesus is the servant of all.  I believe we are all directed to serve Jesus in all humanity and in all God’s creation.

In the readings for Morning Prayer this week we read about Jesus healing the centurion’s servant.  In the story, Jesus naturally responded in love to a person in need.  He asked no questions asked about his background, sexual orientation, gender identification or religion or age.  He simply responded.  Soon after, Jesus, in the same reading, raised the widow’s son at Nain because he simply had compassion for her.  Keep your fixed eyes on the loving, compassionate Jesus. 

As of late, I have noticed that the world seems to be moving faster than ever.  I am getting more and more emails from stores that want me to buy things.  Last week alone I had over two hundred emails from stores wanting more of my business.  Google sends me more notices every day.  I’ve noticed traffic has gotten heavier and people are going faster.  It feels like just yesterday was 2013, the year Victor and I finally were able to get legally married.  Now suddenly, ten years have gone by.  Where has the time gone?  It seems to me if the world wants to keep us busy. Perhaps it’s to divert our eyes from Jesus. 

Today, in the midst of our issues, our busy lives, I invite us all to stop for a moment and look to Jesus.  Look to Jesus, the one who wants to dwell with us and we with him. Jesus the servant, so that we may serve him as he dwells with others.  Jesus the compassionate one, so that we may have compassion for ourselves and those we encounter.  I invite us all here today to live the way, the truth, and the life of an inclusive Jesus.  Amen.

Sunday, April 30, 2023

The Fourth Sunday of Easter

Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-10

The Rev. Clint Brown

Many of you will remember, I hope, me telling you about my friend Brenda who lives in Tennessee. Brenda is now 83 years old. She paints. She rides horses. She climbs mountains. She throws axes. She holds the award for oldest acolyte at St. John’s – Johnson City. Brenda is one of those people who puts to shame people who are half her age, and, as if that doesn’t make her interesting enough, you’ll recall that she once had a pet frog named Monsieur Jean-Claude de Fourchette who would perch on top of her head whenever she did housework.

On our way back from Philadelphia this week, Cavan and I stopped by Brenda’s for a visit, and, as any preacher with a sermon to write will appreciate, I was really counting on Brenda to give me some fresh material. Well, she did not disappoint, because today I have to tell you about Rocky. It turns out that, in addition to a pet frog, Brenda at another time had a pet quail, a pet quail named Rocky, a pet quail named Rocky that just happened to crow. Well, I should say, the story actually begins with a pet quail named Raquail Welch, except that one day Raquail started crowing, announcing that she was, in fact, not a “she” quail but a “he” quail, and so Raquail became Rocky – and, just in case you’re wondering, quails don’t crow, but this one did, and you’d just have to know Brenda to appreciate that a crowing quail named Rocky is the kind of thing of which you will just have to be prepared to accept.

Now it happened that Rocky loved no human being the way he loved Brenda’s dad, who, whenever he came for a visit, had only to sit down and Rocky would jump into his lap. Alone of all human beings, Rocky would let Brenda’s dad run his finger down his back and, as Brenda tells it, the longer Rocky was petted the longer Rocky’s neck became as he drooped his head in total relaxation. In fact, the bond of man and bird was so strong that at the mere sound of his voice Rocky would come running, and so, on entering the house, Brenda’s dad would have to be careful to communicate with hand gestures and help walk in the luggage silently before sitting down and finally saying hello, whereupon Rocky would emerge and leap into his lap.

The reason why this is the perfect story for today is that today we are reminded that Jesus is our Good Shepherd, the one whose voice his sheep know and love. He calls his own sheep by name, and, wherever we are in the pasture, when we hear his voice we know it and we run toward it to follow it. The Bible goes on to say that the sheep will not follow a stranger, because they do not know the voice of strangers (vv. 4-5). So my question for you today is a simple one: whose voice, of all the voices you hear day to day, are you listening to? Is it the Shepherd’s voice, or some other? Or to put it another way, whose voice is loudest? If it’s the voice of the media, you might believe that we are at total war with one another and there is no good thing to be found in the one who votes differently from you. If it’s the voice of the ads that bombard you, you might believe that you can’t live without the next greatest thing they are selling that you ought to be buying. If it’s the voice of your addictions, you might believe that you are powerless to gain control of your life and know inner peace again. If it’s the voice of culture, you might believe that you will never belong, never have enough, never be enough, never measure up. If it’s the voice of the evil one, you might even believe that God is dead and you’re on your own. But if it’s the voice of Jesus, you will know that God is not dead, but is risen. You will know that you are loved. You will know that there is nowhere you can wander where he will not go to find you, and that there is no vision so petty nor so small as the one limited to selfish gain alone. How different is the voice of the Good Shepherd from all those others we often hear so much louder!

Now you might wonder how to tell the difference between the voice of Jesus and those others, and the tell-tale sign is that the voices of deception never have your best interests in mind, but their own. The “thief” and “bandit” are those, we are told, who break in to the sheepfold to steal, kill, and destroy, who are interested in you only for what you can do for them. That is how those false voices – the false friends, the false narratives, the false Messiahs of our lives – betray themselves. They are the ones who haven’t entered through the gate to confront us directly with truth but have slipped over the fence while you weren’t looking with their half-truths and magic elixirs. But opposed to every false god and counterfeit Christ, like a hammer to smash every idol, is the Good Shepherd, the one who only has what’s best for you in mind. None of those imposters can or will suffer for you, but Christ Jesus has bought you with a price. God has proven his love towards us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). If this be the benevolent disposition of the Good Shepherd towards us, what then, I ask, is our duty towards him?

I often think about how, on the question of suffering, it is not really a matter of “if” or “when,” but only a question of deciding what to suffer for – because we all have to suffer for the sake of something. What is it, then, that is really worth suffering for, of taking the world’s abuse for, of being crucified for? It should, of course, be for a vision large enough and meaningful enough to justify our suffering. For the Christian, this is nothing less than to follow the Good Shepherd wherever he leads: to care for what he cares for – to suffer for the weak against the strong and the poor against the rich. All we once thought gain we now count as loss in order to embrace the fuller, richer, truer life of the Gospel. I say that the loudest voice should ever be the one who calls us to this nobler vision, the voice of the one who bids us come and die, the voice of the Good Shepherd who has acknowledged you as a sheep of his own fold, a lamb of his own flock, a sinner of his own redeeming.

Sunday, April 23, 2023

The Third Sunday of Easter

Acts 2:14a, 36-41; Psalm 116: 1-3, 10-17;1 Peter 1: 17-23; Luke 24: 13-35

The Rev. James M.L. Grace

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

Joel Osteen is right about a lot of things, but also this: if you humble yourself before God, if you are obedient to God’s purpose for you, you will prosper.  I believe that with all my heart.  This idea of “prosperity gospel” as it is sometimes referred to, is usually met with grimaces, smirks, rolling eyes, or downright disbelief. 

Loving God a whole lot will not get you a brand new Mercedes Benz as Janis Joplin once famously opined.  Loving God will not get you a large house, or a country club membership.  Loving God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind will get you a deeper spiritual life, a larger sense of God’s presence, and free entry into God’s eternal presence.

I would argue that material wealth is at the very bottom rung of the prosperity ladder Osteen preaches.   And what Osteen often preaches regarding prosperity has sound biblical backing.  If you read Deuteronomy 30, you will hear very clearly God say to the people of Israel: if you follow my ways, and do what I tell you to do, you will prosper, but if you do not follow my ways, and you follow other Gods than me, you will struggle, and you will suffer. 

And what God said to Israel way back then, is fundamentally true for us today.  If we insist on being the CEO of our lives, the know-it-all who assumes we know what is best for us, rather than God, I can guarantee a life of spiritual suffering.   

Likewise, I can guarantee that if you become smart enough to realize you don’t know anything, the least of which is how to live your life, and so you put God in charge instead, I can guarantee you that you will prosper. 

How do you put God in charge?  It’s really simple.  When you get up in the morning, get on your knees and tell God “God this is your day, direct and guide as you will.  Your will be done. AMEN.”  And whatever follows is God’s will, because you prayed for it, and God will answer your prayer.  It takes about ten seconds of your day to do that.  At the end of your day, before you go to bed, get on your knees again, and say to God “Thank you, God, for blessing me this whole day.”  That takes about three seconds.  If you want to argue with me that this asking way too much of you, I know some good therapists you can talk to for about $150 an hour. 

 A warning: building a pattern of humility and obedience into your life every day will lead to weird things.  What kind of weird things?  Here’s one.  After praying consistently over time, you might find yourself looking for that Bible that’s somewhere in your house that’s covered in dust and you will want to start reading it, because you realize you have so much to learn from it. Your vision will improve – you will begin to see the needs of people around you more clearly than before, and you will begin to ask God in your prayers – what can I do to help? 

Before too long, you will feel a sense of spiritual connection with the Divine that brings you true peace and comfort, even if everything in your life is a complete and total wreck.  You might even find yourself – facing a pile of bills you can’t afford to pay, a car note you can’t afford, or a mortgage beyond your means thanking God, saying “Lord, what did I do to deserve this prosperity?”  

 I close with a story – A Roman Catholic nun walks into a room of men who are on a retreat..  True story.  She comes into the room like she’s on a skate board.  She opens her mouth and she sounds like a truck driver.  “Hello.  Do you want to know how to be happy, and healthy, and not have any more problems with your family and your job and all that stuff?  No problem at all.  Easy as pie.  We can cut this short.”  And she rights on the board “Pray incessantly.”   The men were saying “What?  Really?  That’s the answer?  I don’t have time to pray.  I’ve got a job, I’ve got stuff to do.”  The nun looked around the room and said, “you don’t like that answer huh?”  “Tell you what.  Try this then”  And she flipped the backboard over and wrote this.  “Make your life a prayer.”  Can you get to a point in your life where what you do has God driving it to the best of your ability?  Do that, and your prosperity will have no limit.  AMEN. 

Sunday, April 16, 2023

The Second Sunday of Easter

Acts 2:14a,22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

The Rev. Jeffrey Bohanski

Lord, Jesus the Christ.  Help my unbelief.  Help me to forgive and live in your love and peace. Amen.

Happy Easter!  The Lord is risen!  He is risen indeed!

Today we hear two more resurrection stories.  How appropriate this is because after all, this is Easter.  Easter will be with us for another six weeks. 

Last week we heard about Mary weeping at the tomb.  This week we hear another resurrection story.  Well, actually we hear two stories. One story is about the disciples, minus Thomas, and the other takes place a week later, this time with Thomas. 

Have you ever noticed the story about Thomas takes place a week after the story about the disciples?  Have you ever wondered why the disciples are still there in that locked shut house? Why are they still stuck in their fear?

Perhaps they are stuck debating the word “if.”  In the first story where Jesus appears to the disciples and says, “Peace be with you. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."  What does that mean, “If you forgive the sins. . .”  Does that mean we have a choice we have a choice to forgive? You know, I can really see those hardheaded men set apart on opposite sides of the room mired down in fierce debate about the word “if.”

Should we forgive those who have just killed Jesus.  Should we forgive those who probably want us all dead or at best to simply go away?  Thankfully, the disciples in that room, probably due to the second story about Thomas, decided the answer was yes.

I’ve come to believe these two stories are related.  Perhaps, when Thomas brought his doubt about Jesus’ physical body being raised from the dead to Jesus, the disciples were then able to bring their debate about the word “if” to Jesus.  In both instances, Jesus lovingly and powerfully gave them the grace to change their minds. Thomas was given and accepted the grace to believe and the disciples were given and accepted the grace to forgive. 

I do think we’ve been given the choice of whether to forgive sins or not.  What happens if we don’t?  From my personal experience, when I didn’t, I got mired down in fear and resentment.  I’ve found holding onto resentment takes a whole lot of energy.

I’ve found if I, like Thomas, ask Jesus for help to forgive, he will and has already given me the ability to forgive.  Forgiveness brings life and joy.  Forgiveness brings me energy. Energy to live life as God created me to be.  Forgiveness brings peace, the peace I believe, Jesus intends for us.

Forgiveness is hard. Forgiveness is letting go.  For some issues of forgiveness, I’ve needed years and counseling and support to finally forgive and let go.  Sometimes I have to turn off the news and stop listening to the world telling me people like me are bad and dangerous and go listen to something positive or to focus on Jesus.  Sometimes it just an intellectual decision to say no to the world and yes to Jesus.

This week I listened to a podcast from The Living Compass.  In it the Rev. Dr. Scott Stoner posed this question, “What does it mean to live in and practice the resurrection?”  I believe living in the resurrection is living in and practicing forgiveness. 

How do we do this?  I’ve found it helpful to keep a journal of thankfulness.  This helps me to change my mindset and look for things to be thankful for.  I’ve found the Jesus prayer to be helpful in forgiving myself. “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.”  Praying for those who have hurt me has helped immensely.  I pray for them because I know hurt people hurt people. Somehow Jesus gives me the grace to forgive much like he did for Thomas in his unbelief.  I have found talking to and praying with a trusted friend about matters forgiveness is very helpful.  Remember one of our Pastoral Offices in our Book of Common Prayer is Reconciliation of a Penitent.  I invite you to review that.

My hope for us this morning is we all choose to live in the resurrection.  I invite all of us to live in forgiveness; forgiveness of others as well as ourselves.  My prayer is that we accept and use the grace of Jesus to forgive ourselves and others. Amen.

Sunday, April 9, 2023 - Easter Day

Easter Sunday

John 20:1-18

The Rev. Canon Joann Saylors

“I have seen the Lord!”

I can’t really preach a better sermon than Mary Magdalene’s on that first Easter morning. Short and memorable and to the point, and maybe the truest sermon ever preached. Mary, the Apostle to the Apostles, starts here. She doesn’t say, “Christ is risen, the Lord is risen indeed,” as joyful as that is, but “I have seen the Lord.” Mary isn’t making an abstract statement of belief but offering her own experience to those who are struggling to go on. Creeds speak truth, but resurrection is truth you can see and share every day.

“I have seen the Lord!”

We can think it and say it in our own lives. Not by standing on a street corner or a crowded coffee shop and yelling it into the faces of unnerved strangers, or by putting John 3:16 on a poster to hold up and wave during a football game. God doesn’t call us to evangelism as coercion, or extortion, or, for that matter, as certainty beyond doubt. God does call us to share Good News based in relationship and in the reality of what’s actually happening in our lives.

To say “I have seen the Lord” is to point out resurrection in the midst of ruin; to find new life when all that seems visible is death; to offer love in the face of hate; to live in decency and goodness despite the vitriol and viciousness often encouraged in our world. Because resurrection is not only the promise of life after death, even though that would be more than enough. Resurrection also offers the assurance that the life-giving love of God will always move the stones away. And while we see tombs all around us that hold the deaths of despair, anger, judgment, and fear, God continues to roll the stones away that keep us from truly living. “I have seen the Lord!” are the words which push away the stones that confine and constrain us, so that all life might be lived with dignity and regard and respect.

The promise of the resurrection was made real when God raised Jesus from the dead. The resurrection is also real and certain in the world around us now. “I have seen the Lord” insists that the ways of love will win over the ways of despair. “I have seen the Lord” confirms that the truth of kindness can be heard over the shouts of vindictiveness and rage. “I have seen the Lord” witnesses to the fact that there is another way of being in the world — a way of being, shaped by resurrection, that embodies anything and everything that is life-giving. It is a way of being that is so counter-cultural, so demonstrative of mercy, so exemplary of the truth of Easter, that when we model it, others will listen, watch, wonder, and say, “Wait a minute. Did I just see the Lord?”

 It’s not that the truth of the resurrection needs our works in order to convince others. The resurrection is true regardless of what we choose to do or say. But maybe it will be more true for each and every one of us if we can walk out of church this morning and be willing to say “I have seen the Lord.” If we find the places where we can say, “I have seen the Lord” in our lives. If we watch for those who might need us to say, “I have seen the Lord” because they cannot, after seeing only the walls of their tombs for too long.

The truth is that the resurrection of Jesus matters for our future, but matters even more for the here and now, for our own sakes and for the sake of others. Jesus matters for the sake of the world.

I have seen the Lord. In the offers of support after a hard medical diagnosis,

in the sacrifice of missionaries’ vacation time to serve others in need, in a family choosing to forgive someone who has done them harm, in a teenager courageously standing up to speak unwanted truth. I have seen the Lord, at work in my own life and the lives of others, in times of joy and in times of deep sadness. I have seen the Lord here, where we gather around his table, and where we build community. I have seen the Lord in hospitals, in schools, in libraries, in lines at the store. I have seen the Lord in the faces of others and in the games of children.

Anywhere people care for one another, anywhere people work for peace and reconciliation, you too can see the Lord. I promise you this because Jesus promises this. When you look for the Lord, you will find him.

Jesus has risen. So let’s go forth in joyful proclamation. Shout it today and say it again tomorrow and say it whenever you can. Who have you seen? I have seen the Lord! AMEN.

Saturday, April 8, 2023 - Easter Vigil

Easter Vigil

Matthew 28:1-10

The Rev. Francene Young

Easter has become predictable. The challenge for preachers is to restore Easter’s power to shock, startle, surprise, terrify, amaze.

The preacher must pull a rabbit out of a hat. (Now you know how rabbits became associated with Easter.) 

I do not have a hat or a rabbit, but I do have an Easter Challenge. A challenge to become rock-rollers with an Easter Heart.  Hold on to that thought.

But before I go on, I want to share a little story I found while researching for this message.  I love these little stories:

A Sunday School teacher had just finished telling her first graders about how Jesus was crucified and placed in a tomb with a great stone sealing the opening.

Then, wanting to share the excitement of the resurrection, she asked: “And what do you think were Jesus’ first words when he came bursting out of that tomb alive?”

A hand shot up into the air from the rear of the classroom. Attached to it was the arm of a little girl. Leaping out of her chair, she shouted out excitedly, "I know, I know!"

"Good" said the teacher, "Tell us, what were Jesus’ first words?"

And extending her arms high into the air she said: "TA-DA!"

My friends, we are hear in anticipation of the great TA DA!

The resurrection of Jesus is much greater than a magic trick, and our proclamation must be no less enthusiastic than that little girl's "TA-DA!"

In the gospel we just read from Matthew, Jesus’ first words to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary when Jesus appeared to them on their way to tell the disciples of his resurrection was “Greetings.” Not TA DA!  Though I am sure “Greetings: had a TA DA impact on them!

The resurrection changed the world forever. It announced that God's kingdom had come.  It was the start of God's new age that opens God’s kingdom to all people! And this is a gift, offered to each of us without price, simply because God loves us that much and Jesus paid the price with his life.  So we could have a new life. 

Christ has done all the work that needs to be done. Christ has died on the cross for the forgiveness of our sins. And then, Christ was raised to new life, so that we, too, can be raised and have eternal life.

So Easter is all about a four letter word — and as Christians we’re supposed to be full of it.  The four letter word is LIFE.

(I know you were thinking something else).  But our Easter four-letter word is LIFE!

New life. Whole life. Abundant Life. Redeemed life. Resurrected life.

The purpose of life is not death, Easter says. The purpose of life is life . . . a life that triumphs over death forever.

Celebrating Easter is the best thing that we, as the church, can do because it is a celebration of all that is good, all that is true, and all that is beautiful.

In fact, I would make the case that celebrating Easter is the greatest public service the church can perform for the world. Why? Because THE TA DA, the resurrection, Jesus’ return to life gives us new life which we share with others.  

Remember Jesus’ final words on the cross? “It is finished.”

On Easter “It is finished” becomes “..and Now it begins.”

Life begins anew with the resurrected beating of an Easter heart; a resurrected heart. An Easter Heart.

It is an Easter heart that the resurrected Jesus offered to all who believed in him 

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary saw the empty tomb, encountered the Resurrected Jesus on their way to tell the disciples. Filled with fear and joy of an Easter heart, the two Mary’s ran to tell others.  We need to tell others.

Do you have an Easter heart? Does the church have an Easter heart?  Here are some ways you can tell.

1) An Easter heart is full of new life. An Easter heart is full of a new mission. An Easter heart is full of new possibilities and open to what Christ might be calling it to do?  An Easter heart responds to the tug of Jesus.  WHAT HAS BEEN TUGGING ON YOUR HEART?? 

2) An Easter heart church is full of rock-rollers. Notice I didn’t say rock-and-rollers.  I am from Cleveland, the city of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  I know the difference.  I did not say an Easter heart church is full of ROCK AND ROLLERS . . . I SAID an Easter heart church is full of ROCK-ROLLERS. 

The first sign of the resurrection, as noted by a distraught Mary Magdalene and the Other Mary, was that the rock that sealed Jesus’ tomb had been rolled away from the tomb’s entrance by an ANGEL.  

Rock-rollers offer help remove stones or barriers for all sorts of people who are trapped in all kinds of tombs.

Strengthened by an Easter heart we can . . . .

·       Help roll away despair, and reveal a path to hope.

·       We can roll away fear — and encourage those stuck in tomb  to step out into the light.

·       We can roll away feelings of rejection and unworthiness as we show people the love of Christ (the love he has shown us).

4) A church filled with ROCK ROLLERS HAS An Easter heart THAT IS always experiencing adrenaline surges,

always skipping beats, and

always HAS a racing pulse.

5) A church filled with ROCK ROLLERS HAS An Easter heart THAT is arrhythmic because in an Easter heart church the unexpected is always happing. Resurrection happens. Miracles happen. Truth happens. Goodness happens. Beauty happens. Jesus happens.   

6) A church filled with ROCK ROLLERS An Easter heart church is filled with laughter.  

The resurrection is a testimony to the adage, “he who laughs last laughs best.” The Sanhedrin thought they had the last laugh. The Roman authorities thought they had the last laugh. The cruel crowds and sadistic soldiers thought they had the last laugh.

But the resurrection proved God has the last laugh.

The church WITH ITS Easter heart filled with rock rollers, should ring with laughter enjoying fully the divine sense of humor.

This is not to say that our journeys will all be rosy and without trials. 

The promise of Easter Sunday is not that our hearts won’t break. In fact, the promise of Easter is that if you love, your heart WILL break. For God so loved the world, God’s heart broke. The cross is a symbol of God’s broken heart. A broken heart is the price of love. 

Yet, Easter is the symbol of a heart that will break and out of this broken heart, God will birth a new heart, a whole heart, a redeemed and restored heart.

An Easter heart is full of new life, renewing itself over and over, again

An Easter heart church is full of rock-rollers who in the name of Christ reach out to help other removes the stones from the tombs that have blocked them from experiencing the love of Christ.

I want to close this Benediction found in

Numbers 6:24-26:

Here it is in its original form:

“May the Lord bless you and keep you; may the Lord cause his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; may the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and grant you peace.” 

I have altered this for today for our rock rolling Easter hearts, WHICH IS ALSO A CHALLENGE.  Let us pray

“May the Lord bless you and keep you; may the Lord cause his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; may the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and grant you peace with a beat-skipping, laughing out loud, rock-rolling, Easter hearts.”

AMEN!

Sermon adapted from several from Sermons.com who grant permission to use their resources.

Good Friday, April 7, 2023

Good Friday

The Rev. Clint Brown

A couple of years ago, I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night from a dead sleep. Now you might think that this was because I had had a bad dream or heard a noise or suddenly remembered that I had left a door unlocked or the oven on. But that was not it – not it at all. I was roused from sleep by an intense and profound sadness. It was the oddest sensation. From someplace deep within, a palpable sadness, possessed of its own inertia, had broken through from my unconsciousness to my consciousness and manifested itself as a physical thing.

As I lay there trying to sort it all out, I began to identify the shape and contour of this sadness that had presented itself to my awareness, and I finally realized that it was all the negativity and anger and bad feelings of our politics, of the shocking and unkind things we can and do say about one another that, for who knows how long, I had been absorbing and depositing, layer upon layer. It was a vast deposit of negative energy that, on this particular night, my troubled spirit was offering up to me, shaking me awake, demanding to be heard. And not knowing what else to do with the magnitude of these feelings, I felt compelled to pray. And as I lay there praying in the dark – feeling, with the psalmist, a helplessness, a despondency, as of drowning in waters that had risen above my head – it happened that I suddenly became mindful of the Cross.

I guess, upon reflection, it couldn’t be helped. It is to the Cross, after all, where all the negativity and the worst that the world can dish out ultimately leads. This, I thought, is where our hate and anger and bad feeling get us. This is what hate does to love. It crucifies it. And now I lay there weeping in the dark – warm tears that pooled at the corners of my eyes and fell slowly down either side of my face. Weeping for the world, weeping for myself, and weeping for the goodness of the man on the cross of whom we had proven ourselves to be so unworthy. And I thought how whatever I was feeling of the injustice of the world was yet only an infinitesimal part of what Jesus himself experienced when he wept over Jerusalem; as he agonized in the Garden; as Judas betrayed him; as Peter denied him; as he listened to the crowd clamoring for his death; and, finally, as he hung nailed to the Cross, rejected and forsaken, bearing on his body all the malice, all the cruelty, all the confused rage of humanity.

Why, what hath my Lord done? What makes this rage and spite? He made the lame to run, he gave the blind their sight. Sweet injuries! Yet they at these themselves displease, and ’gainst him rise.[1]

This, I thought, is what hate does to love, and I let myself weep for our fallen race.

And so things stood for several days until I shared my helplessness with another priest, who brought me out of the dark. Yes, he said, this is what hate does to love, but look at what love does to hate. The power of the Cross is Christ’s steadfast and obedient faith despite the worst we could do. He did not succumb to the temptation to let the cup pass from him. When he cried out, “It is finished,” it was not to say – or, at least, not only to say – that his torture was over. More than that it was a shout of victory. “It is accomplished!” “It is achieved!” “It is fulfilled!” “Your hate may, indeed, crucify Love, but only because Love allows it!”

This is the victory, that God has taken all the hate and wrongheadedness and poison of our nature and absorbed each and every blow. All these things have been crucified with Christ and their power destroyed for ever.

The tragedy of [humankind had been our] disobedience, [our] resistance to reality, [our] pettiness. The triumph of Christ [was] his obedience, his grasp of reality. In Christ our whole human experience was rerun, this time properly…[2]

Hate may mock and scourge and do its worst, but Love receives the humiliation. Hate may carry the day, but Love wins the war. Hate may kill, but Love is stronger than death.

If love does not seem to make any meaningful headway in society, perhaps it is only because we have never really given it the chance. Yet that is exactly our charge as Christians. We are meant to be infiltrators, working from below, leavening from within. Ours is not to be part of the problem, but part of the solution. We are Good Friday people. Our symbol is the Cross – the symbol of obedience and self-emptying love. We are on the side of the oppressed against the oppressor. We represent those who outlast hate. We are for love. And love wins.

[1] Hymnal 1982, #458, My song is love unknown. Words by Samuel Crossman (1624-1683)

[2] Richard Holloway, The Killing: Meditations on the Death of Christ (Wilton, CT: Morehouse Barlow, 1985), 68-69.

Wednesday, April 5, 2023 - Holy Week

Wednesday in Holy Week

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 7; Hebrews 12:1-3; John 13:21-32

The Rev. Jeff Bohhanski

So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.

As I hear this evening’s Gospel, I imagine the room where Jesus and his disciples were was filled with bright warm happy light. Outside it wasn’t.  It was night. It was dark.  It was the world.

I find the sentence: “It was night.” thought provoking. I notice in John’s Gospel, where Jesus is, there is light.  Where Jesus isn’t, it’s dark.  This makes me think about times when I find myself out in the dark, either by choice or by circumstance.

For instance, I feel I’m in the dark when I begin to worry about getting to the bottom of a long “To Do List”, or when I begin to think I don’t measure up, or when I begin to feel I have absolutely no control over the world around me.

I also feel I’m in the dark when I’ve been cut off in traffic or when someone has been rude to me at work or at a store.

Esther de Waal says, “Without the still center, the journey whether inner or outer is impossible.” This evening I want to lead us through a meditation I find helpful when I’m journeying through the dark.

This meditation is based on Psalm 27, verse 1.  First, I will ring the bell and read the verse.  Then I will allow for two minutes of silence.  I will ring the bell again and read a smaller part of the verse.  I will repeat the process two more times and then conclude the meditation with a prayer.  Let’s begin.

I invite you to close your eyes.  Take a deep breath in through your mouth, hold it, now breathe it out through your nose.  One more time, in through your mouth and out through your nose.  Feel the seat you are in and relax your shoulders.  Take another deep breath in and out.

Psalm 27:1

The LORD is my light and my salvation — whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life — of whom shall I be afraid?

Psalm 27:1

The LORD is my light and my salvation — whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life

Psalm 27:1

The LORD is my light and my salvation.

Psalm 27:1

The LORD is my light.

Lord, God, we thank you for always being a light in the dark places of the world and in the dark places of our lives. May your light and love blaze in all your creation and in all the world. Amen.

Sunday, April 2, 2023

Palm Sunday

Matthew 26:14-27:66

The Rev. Francene Young

My how time flies. Less than 20 minutes ago we where in a Jesus Parade, joyfully waiving palms and singing All Gloria Laud and Honor to thee Redeemer King. However, I admit in my head I was singing from Jesus Christ Superstar

Hosanna hey sanna sanna sanna ho

Sanna hey sanna hosanna

Hey JC, JC, won't you smile at me?

Sanna hosanna hey superstar.

And shortly after it starts and Jesus reaches the Temple, the party is over!

The story I am about to share is adapted from Bob Benson's book "See You at the House: The Very Best of the Stories He Used to Tell.” It is about how we are perceived and thus how we perceive ourselves. How Judas and Peter who both betrayed Jesus and their self-perceptions resulted in very different outcomes. I have always wondered about Judas. So bear with me!

As part of a study, a group of researchers from Harvard contacted an elementary school teacher at the beginning of a school year. They told the teacher that they had designed a test that would correctly predict which students were going to grow intellectually during the coming school year. (Someone called it "The Harvard Test of Intellectual Spurts" because he said it told which students were going to 'spurt' that year).

The researchers promised it would indicate the right students. The test was said to be very, very accurate. The researchers then administered, unbeknownst to the teacher, an obsolete IQ test. When the students had finished, the researchers threw the tests away. Then they randomly picked the names of five students and told the teacher, "These are the students who are going to have a very good year. Watch these kids. One of those on the list was Rachel Smith."

"Rachel Smith?" the teacher replied sarcastically, “She couldn't 'spurt' if you shot her from a cannon.” But the researchers maintained that the test was hardly ever wrong in its findings.

You can imagine what happened that semester, can't you? Under a barrage of constant attention "Rachel, would you write this on the board this morning?" or "Rachel will lead the line to the lunch room today?" or "Is that a new dress, Rachel? It sure is pretty" or "Thank you, Rachel, that was very good." Rachel "spurted" all over that school. And so did the other four who received this type of attention and affirmation.

Benson goes on the say that According to the apostle Paul, every one of our names belongs on a list like that. We are all "God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved." A little boy in elementary school said, "My teacher thought I was smarter than I wuz. So I wuz!"

The impact of being open to God’s attention and affirmations. In the Passion gospel we just read from Matthew, Jesus throughout the dark night of his soul in the Garden of Gethsemane, begged his disciples to stay up with him, comfort him, pray with him, support him. But they couldn't do it. On the night that Jesus was arrested, all of his disciples abandoned him. And two of them actively betrayed him.

Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus only once, almost immediately regretted his action. He boldly marched back before the powerful, corrupt officials and proclaimed Jesus' innocence to their faces, throwing their bribe money back at their feet. He regretted his role in turning over Jesus to his enemies.

Peter, the other disciple, betrayed Jesus on three separate occasions. In his fear of the officials ran off seeking anonymity and seclusion. He resurfaced only after the Crucifixion.

Yet Judas, has been named throughout history as the prime example of all that is contemptible, corrupt and deceitful in human nature. For example, how many kids do you know named Judas? While Peter, the second disciple to betray Jesus is honored as the father of the church and is designated a "saint.

What distinguishes Judas' action so starkly from Peter's?

Perhaps the simplest way to understand is to look at their motives.

Judas' actions were premeditated, calculated, even paid for. In Matthew’s telling of the story, when Judas realizes the gravity of his actions, he returns the 30 pieces of silver, called blood money, and attempted to defend Jesus' innocence before the tribunal while Jesus was still alive.

Peter's act of betrayal, on the other hand, were somewhat a cowardly, spontaneous burst of emotion that profited him nothing after committing to Jesus that he would never betray him and in contrast, Peter only sneaked back into the disciple's fold as a mourner after the crucifixion frenzy had passed and the tomb was sealed.

I believe one key difference between these two betrayers - Judas and Peter - was their perception of how Jesus perceived them.

Judas was overcome with guilt. Although "he repented" (Mt.27:3), Judas could only envision a wrathful, Judgmental Jesus declaring him cursed according to Deuteronomic law (Mt. 26:23-24, Deuteronomy 27:25). In his despair, Judas blocked out Jesus' instruction in the garden (Mt.26:50) “do what you are here to do”.

Hearing only condemnation ringing in his ears, Judas cut himself off from the healing capabilities of God's grace and, in an agonizing fit of self-Judgment and hanged himself.

Peter heard other voices. Undoubtedly, he replayed his own three denials of Jesus over and over again. After leaving the courtyard Matthew says Peter "wept bitterly" (Mt.26:75). Surely Peter also heard himself promising Jesus he would never deny him, even if it meant facing death (Mt.26:35). But there were other crucial conversations Peter had with Jesus that were stored in his memory that gave him hope.

Peter was the disciple who had come to Jesus to ask specifically about the act of forgiveness. How many times should we forgive? Peter asked. Jesus declared "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy times seven." (Matthew 18:21-22).

Even more importantly, Jesus had singled Peter out when asking, "Who do you say that I am?" Peter could recall he had once boldly confessed, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (Matthew 16:15-16).

Even more comforting and hopeful must have been Peter's recollection of Jesus' response to that confession: "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah!"

And then came Jesus' affirmation of Peter, "And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it" (Matthew 16:17-18).

What a lifeline these memories must have been for Peter as he wept at his betrayal. Peter knew that Jesus believed in him. Jesus had designated him to be something special in the life of the church. Whatever Peter had done in his past, Jesus had assured him he had a future. Like Rachel Smith, who spurted due to attention and affirmation, Peter’s memories of the affirmations from Jesus gave him hope of forgiveness.

Apparently, Judas did not have or could not recall such affirmations. Judas also must have forgotten that he was only one in a long, established, distinguished tradition of God's failed faithful. Moses, Aaron, David, Thomas, Paul all committed grievous acts of betrayal against God. But each one found their way back to God's side through God’s undying grace.

Judas died, stigmatized by his own heart as a betrayer. He was never able or chose not to accept the gift of God’s forgiving grace. He took matters into his own hands. He had hoped he could stop the tide of his betrayal of Jesus by returning the coins and defending Jesus’ innocence, but it was too late. The train had left the station.

In panic, Judas' final controlling act was to take his own life. He never dared to check that back door of grace that God always leaves unlocked - and even pushes open for us to re-enter.

On this Palm Sunday that started with a joy filled parade and ends with the crucifixion, we must travel this long, hard road with Jesus who in the garden of Gethsemane accepted God’s Will to die for us. This is not an easy journey, yet one key message of the gospel is that God's grace is available to all, that the door to God's loving presence is always open.

We become like Judas when we betray and deny Christ himself and when we deny the redemptive power of God's grace. We become like Peter when we betray and deny Christ but remain open to the grace and forgiveness that Christ offers every one of us. Be open to his grace. AMEN!

Sermon adapted from resources provided by Homiletics Online

Sunday, March 26, 2023

The Fifth Sunday of Lent

Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45

The Rev. Clint Brown

Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were well-known to Jesus and his disciples, that much is clear. You’ll recall that in Luke’s Gospel, he gives us a glimpse into their world. Here is the bustling Martha, playing the part of the perfect hostess, and there is the contemplative Mary, oblivious to all else except Jesus (Luke 10:38-42). In my mind’s eye, I always picture a scene of comfortable, middle-class domesticity. A well-kept house. Some flowers in pots. Not the richest fare on the table, perhaps, but it is always delicious and hearty, so that you find yourself pushing your chair back from the table and rubbing your belly. For Jesus, it must have been a place of inestimable importance. In the course of his ministry, I imagine he must have dropped in many times whenever he needed respite from the miles of dusty roads and their deprivations. And since it is hard to always be “on” when playing the part of a public figure, he must have regarded this happy home as one of those few places where he did not have to be the great man, but just be himself.

As the story opens, John can assume his reader’s familiarity with the family and their closeness to Jesus. He can make reference, for instance, to the story of Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet, a story which he has yet to tell. And when Lazarus falls ill, it is hardly surprising that the sisters would send for him. It would have been the most natural thing in the world. They know who he is. They know he can heal their brother. No one dies in the presence of Jesus. And so a messenger is sent to summon him and they eagerly await his arrival.

Jesus, at this moment, is in the Trans-Jordan, the region across the river where John the Baptist had lived and worked, but among his little band of disciples things are tense. They are not here to see the sights or revisit scenes of past glory. They are here because they have been forced to. After the incident with the healing of the blind man, Jesus has very nearly gotten himself stoned and arrested and he and the rest are lucky to have gotten out of the city at all. Now they are hunkered down in the relative isolation and safety of the wilderness wondering what Jesus will decide to do next. If the decision was theirs to make, no doubt they would opt to return to Galilee and lay low until things in the capital had settled down a bit.

But then a messenger arrives from Bethany, and, instead of retreating to further safety, Jesus resolves to go back to Judea. It is a death sentence and Jesus knows it. He who has spoken of himself as the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep will now make good on his word. For the sake of restoring his friend Lazarus to life, he will now risk his own. The disciples, having discussed the matter amongst themselves, they, too, know the odds. Finally, Thomas says, “Very well, if we’re gonna go, let’s go. We’ll just have to die with him, too” (v.16). And so the men, full of apprehension, gather their things and catch up to Jesus, who is already a good ways down the road. Now they find themselves retracing the steps they had just taken away from danger, and with each new step are drawing nearer towards it.

By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been dead for four days. The poor man must have succumbed to his illness shockingly quickly, on the very day the messenger had been sent, and he would have been buried the same day. According to rabbinical tradition, the souls of the departed hovered around the grave for three days in the hope of being reunited with the body, but as soon as decomposition set in, it would leave for good. This is why the narrative draws out the fact that it is now the fourth day. The Greek uses here an odd expression. It literally reads that Lazarus is a “fourth-day man,” sounding almost, to my ear, like a proverb. When someone is absolutely and completely beyond our reach, they are a “fourth-day man.” Searching for a similarly apt expression, a later writer in a later time would find them in the words, “Old Marley was dead…dead as a door-nail.” Lazarus is dead and there is no way to bring him back.

And now Jesus, standing beside the grave of his friend, utters into this hopeless situation words that, but for knowing the one who speaks them, would convince anyone that the speaker is mad. Ἐγώ εἰμι ἡ ἀνάστασις καὶ ἡ ζωή. “I am the resurrection and the life” (v. 25). And, in this the greatest of his signs in this book of signs, to prove that these are the words of God and not just the preposterous ravings of a lunatic, Christ commands the stinking, decaying corpse to come out of the tomb. 

And so, in the same way, Christ stands at the entrance of whatever tomb you find yourself in today – whatever heartbreak and disappointment, whatever hopelessness, whatever shadow of death – and he recalls you to life. Despite being already dead for four days, despite being a stinking, decaying mess, despite being bound up and in the dark, the power of Christ is available to bring you life where before there seemed only unpitying, unconquerable death. I pray that you might know and accept this power and the love of the one who speaks it, the one who has rushed to your side knowing it will cost him his life, the one who weeps with you and for you, the one who says, In me death is certain to live, and the living is certain never to die.[1]

[1] After F. Godet, quoted in Marvin Vincent, Word Studies in the New Testament, vol. 2 (Maclean, VA: Macdonald Publishing Company, n.d.), 203.