Sunday, August 6, 2023

The Transfiguration of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Peter 1:13-21; Luke 9:28-36

The Rev. Jeff Bohanski

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer. 

A lot has been said about the story of Jesus’ transfiguration.  Here are some fun facts about these readings. This story comes up twice each year in the lectionary. The first time we hear it is the last Sunday of Epiphany, the Sunday before Ash Wednesday. It is interesting to note that the last Sunday of Epiphany is about halfway between Christmas and Easter.  The second time we hear it is today, August 6th. The Feast of the Transfiguration. Again, it is interesting that we find ourselves about halfway through Ordinary Time. This tells me that the creators of our current lectionary felt this story to be quite valuable.  This leads me to think, perhaps we should pay attention to it and integrate it into our own personal theology and spirituality.

It is also important to note that all three synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) include this story.  It is also important to note that the author of the Second Letter of Peter that we just heard mentioned it outright. It seems to me that the members of the early church certainly found this story to be very important.  A lot of our understanding of who Jesus was and is comes from this story.   

Concerning the part where Jesus speaks to Moses and Elijah about his departure, biblical commentator N.T. Wright writes an interesting piece that I think is important and some here today may find it noteworthy.  N.T writes:

“In his death Jesus will enact an event just like the great Exodus from Egypt, only more so.  In the first Exodus, Moses led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt and home to the promised land.  In the new Exodus, Jesus will lead all God’s people out of slavery of sin and death, and home to their promised inheritance — the new creation in which the whole world will be redeemed.”

This summer I have been doing what I like to call hiking, some would call it walking. I’ve been putting in between 4 and 6 miles a day.  I’ve walked many miles to and around Memorial Park.  Some miles have been hiked/walked along The Buffalo Bayou.  I’ve even done some hiking/walking in Galveston, and on a hill near Giddings, TX.  Because of this current heat streak, we find ourselves in, I’ve walked many, many miles on our treadmill listening to books and watching scenic YouTube video tours from all parts of the world and in a few different seasons. This last week, the winter mountain videos have been especially appealing.

So, this August, when I hear the story of Jesus’ transfiguration, it strikes me as a hiking story.  Wouldn’t it be great to take a hike with Jesus!  In my mind’s eye I can see Peter, John, and James packing their gear and Jesus reminding them to pack nothing, just like the time he sent them out in His name. Remember, God will provide the rest.  I can see Jesus smiling to himself because he knows what is about to happen to these three unsuspecting apostles.

I can see Peter stumbling up that mountain like I stumbled up my hill near Giddings. I imagine a smiling, caring Jesus reaching out his hand to help Peter and the others negotiate the rocks like I negotiated the rocks on my hill. I can imagine the look of amazement and awe the three apostles gave Jesus as they headed down the mountain after hearing those all-important words from the cloud, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

I wonder what the world, or just each of us, would be like if we would actually listen to the words of Jesus.  Can you imagine the stress we would miss if we would listen to and incorporate the words of Jesus when he said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” (Luke 5:20b) Or “Do not fear.” (Luke 8:50a) or even “Peace be with you.” (Luke 24:36)

In my world, school is about to start.  I’ve already begun receiving emails and texts about the return of teachers on the 14th.  Last week an email had been sent out informing teachers that our school will be open next week if we “want” to come in and get started on our rooms. Not a day goes by that I don’t hear something in the news or on my Google feed about the state takeover of the district and the upset it’s causing.  My stomach has already begun to turn as I feel the stress of the start of a school year that looks to be quite unpredictable. 

Friends, I have come to accept that this may be a very tumultuous year. The last few certainly have had their unique challenges. I suspect many of us here today may also have many stressful things happening.  Perhaps it’s the stress of taking care of an aging parent, or you are the aging parent.  Perhaps you are dealing with health issues, or you are taking care of someone with health issues. Perhaps it’s the stress of taking care of school aged children or perhaps you are a school aged person dealing with your parents. 

This week I’ve decided to listen to my own sermon and strive to incorporate those words of the cloud into my life.  “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” I invite everyone here today (and online) to join me in this. 

Together as a community of faith, lets confess when we have done wrong to ourselves or to others and trust in Jesus’ words, “friend, your sins are forgiven.”  Let’s let go of the guilt.  Together, let’s strive to put faith in Jesus’ love, strength, and compassion above all our fears. He will be with us. Let’s have Jesus do the judging, not us. And together, let’s strive to live in the peace of Christ that the Father and the Spirit intends for us.  Amen.

Sunday, July 30, 2023

The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

Genesis 29:15-28; Psalm 105:1-11, 45b; Romans 8:26-39; Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

The Rev. Clint Brown

For the next few minutes, I’d like to talk about prayer. What is prayer and what’s it for? And I suppose the best way to begin is to ask what comes to your mind when I say the word “prayer”? What associations does it conjure? What images? Are you alone in a room by yourself or in a communal setting? Is your prayer formal, repeated from a book, or more spontaneous, spoken from the heart? Or some combination of the two? Do you have a prayer list in front of you? Do you have a set time and place for prayer? Is there a particular person you try to emulate or a particular way of praying that you feel drawn to?

What I think of when I think of “prayer” is someone older, much more holy and spiritual than me, kneeling at the side of their bed late at night silhouetted against the low light of a bedside lamp. They are very still and their eyes are closed. They give the impression of being quiet but earnest. Their hands are clasped in the traditional pose of prayer, and they are speaking aloud, though not loudly, as if they were addressing God on a throne directly in front of them. They start their prayer with adoration and thanksgiving. They have long since learned that having no agenda other than the praise of God is an important but neglected aspect of prayer. They remember to speak by name all those they have promised to pray for. They remember also those who are in need who haven’t asked for their prayers: the poor, the refugee, the widow, the orphan. They remember to pray for government officials. They pray for the church and its ministers. They pray for people in foreign lands. They remember the dying and the dead. Finally, they pray for their own need for spiritual refreshment and renewal, and, especially, they confess their sins and failings and plea for forgiveness and amendment of life.

That is what I think of. Whatever you think of when you hear the word “prayer” – no matter how similar or different from me – I’m confident, however, that it probably isn’t this: “The Spirit helps [me] in [my] weakness, for [I] do not know how to pray as [I] ought…[but] the Spirit intercedes for [me] according to the will of God” (Romans 8:26-27). When I hear this, my first reaction is to be pleasantly surprised. For such an important activity as prayer, the pressure seems to be taken completely off. There is a world of difference between the wordiness and me-forwardness of my usual thinking about prayer and the almost passive, hands-off, Spirit-forward way described here by Paul. And when we survey the best writing about prayer through the centuries, we find there, almost without exception, the same “less is more” emphasis. It turns out that prayer is not supposed to be busy at all. It is not supposed to be a chore. It is supposed to be God and us alone together, opening space for conversation. And, from our side, that generally means mostly silence and expectation and stillness.

If you’re thinking to yourself that this sounds suspiciously like meditation rather than prayer you are right, but there are some key differences – and that is the most important idea I want you to take away today. To the extent that meditation is silent, expectant, and still it is a helpful comparison. But in contrast to meditation, the goal of prayer is completely different. Prayer is not usually about losing yourself but bringing your full self. Except for the very real possibility of “mystical experiences,” what prayer should be for the majority of us the majority of the time is quiet but not passive; contemplative but not empty. The key that unlocks the door of true prayer is to see it as focused upon God with every expectation that you will hear God speaking back. That can only happen if we minimize the chatter and that is the only reason why so many of the techniques of meditation can be recommended for prayer.

So here are a few suggestions for how you can make your prayer something like that of an Indian yogi but not really: 

1. Prayer is you and God alone together. That means negotiating with your life and the people in it a quiet space and a quiet time every day where you can be alone with God. Whatever that means to you, do that.

2. Start small. An hour may seem too daunting, but what about a mere ten minutes? Or five? Whatever time you can carve out, do know that it often means using the time you already have better, like commuting in silence instead of talking on the phone. And, if we’re honest with ourselves, there is almost limitless time available if we cut into our distracting and less enriching drains on time, like video streaming or scrolling through social media.

3. Don’t try to not think, just try to focus on God. If you come to God early in the day, run a movie of what you anticipate your day to look like. Offer to God the people and the situations you will face and ask for direction. If there are difficult decisions to make, offer them to God. If you come to God at the end of the day, replay the day: its successes and failures. Allow God the chance to weigh in and yourself the opportunity to be vulnerable.

4. Be prepared to try something in the way of a renewed prayer life and then fail miserably at it. Don’t give up. Persevere. Continue to experiment until you find what works for your life. Eventually you will come to require your prayer time and miss it when you don’t.

5. Finally, whatever you do, determine in your prayer to do what the reading suggests: talk less and listen more. Try silence. Try opening a space. This is going to be the hardest for those of you goal-oriented types. You do not always have to have a list prepared or things to say. Trust that the Spirit “who intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (v. 27) is praying for precisely what needs to be prayed for in precisely the right way. Accept this promise as the gracious thing it is, meant to take the pressure off of you. What you will hear in the quietness and stillness is the Spirit recalling to your mind those people and things you need reminding of, and you will hear also instruction about how to handle them.

This is not all that should be or could be said about prayer, but it is enough to suggest a way forward.

Sunday, July 23, 2023

The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

The Rev. Francene Young

In a sermon by King Duncan, the principal writer of Dynamic Preaching magazine, he shares his Murphy’s First Law of Gardening: It goes like this “When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it. If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.

And, of course, there is a corollary to that law: To distinguish flowers from weeds, simply pull up everything. What grows back is weeds.(1)

Last week the gospel lesson from Matthew was about the Sower, the seed and the different types of soil upon which the seeds fall and how the seed grows or not, based upon the type of soil it lands on. We learned that different kinds of soil produce differing levels of results.

He tells the people on the shore as he told stories in parables. Listen! A Sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up.

Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away.

Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them.

Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.

l left the service last week feeling relieved that 25% of the seed sown by our generous creator is likely to fall on GOOD SOIL AND MULTIPLY BY LEAPS AND BOUNDS. Amen, Hallelujah! Let Sow’s, Let God do the rest!

But wait…the parables continue and today we read the someone has come in and planted weeds among the seeds in the good soil! What? Weeds in the good soil among the good seed? What? Jesus throws us a curve ball!

Today we are confronted with the question: what do you do with the weeds?

Going back to our garden, we know, those who have ever tried to plant a flower garden, or a vegetable garden or even a plain ordinary lawn, the weeds are going to come.

So listen to Jesus’ parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

“The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

“‘An enemy did this,’ he replied. “The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ ‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

If you take this literally, this is a scary parable. The weeds are going to be thrown on a fire and burned.

But Jesus isn’t actually giving us a guide to growing good wheat, of course. He’s talking about our human behavior.

We’re told that the weeds in Jesus’ parable were a poisonous variety called “bearded darnel.” In the early stages of growth this bearded darnel so closely resembles wheat that it is not possible to distinguish one from the other. Later when it is possible to distinguish between them, the roots of the wheat and weeds are so intertwined that one could not be pulled without also tearing up the other. To rip up the weeds would also be to destroy the growth of the wheat. It is said that even Roman law prohibited the sowing of darnel among wheat of the enemy.

So the landowner was being wise when he said, “No . . . let both grow together until the harvest.” The harvesters were not allowed to try to separate the weeds from the wheat until the final harvest.

Then I wonder, what is the field or where is the field where the weeds are planted become intermingled with the wheat?

Many commentors focus on the church as the field intermixed with wheat and weed. They reflect on the conflicts within almost every church. At times, I found myself saying “When 2 or 3 are Gathered, OH MY GOD! ”

But I prefer to focus on you and me; the individuals that make up the church and our individual fields of good soil into which some weeds have sprouted.

In an article by TALITHA J. ARNOLD in Feasting on the Word, she states

“Sometimes our own lives resemble the farmer’s infested field, with weeds and wheat intertwined in our souls, hearts, and minds. The apostle Paul certainly knows it: “I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Rom. 7:15).

Members of AA or Alanon acknowledge this. The First Step confesses, “We are powerless over alcohol and our lives have become unmanageable.” The Fourth Step is to “Make fearless moral inventory of ourselves,” sorting out the wheat from the weeds within. (2)

Our personal experience of the enemy’s sowing may be more subtle, as in the countless distractions we let derail us from the Word and work of God. For me those looks like endless E-mails, phone calls, and meetings can make it look as if I am working on the realm of God, but in many cases they are simply symptoms of my own divided soul. It is the struggle between knowing and doing what I ought to do; but doing something else that I ought not or that simply distracts me.

At the same time, in this parable Jesus clearly cautions against a rush to judgment. We cannot always tell initially what is a good plant and what a weed. They are two closely intertwined.

What is dangerous for us, is spending time and energy trying to figure out what other people are going to reap.

Some people, I’m sorry to say, delight in separating people into acceptable or unacceptable, worthy or unworthy, good or bad, wheat or weeds.

Now what does that mean for us? A constant theme in Jesus’ teaching is that his followers were not to pass judgment on others. But wait for the harvest. One of my weeds, is that I do not have God’s patience. Do you?

Before my grandmother died at the age of 102, we had weekly calls. She lived in a long-term facility. Needless to say she was full of wisdom and advice. Now my grandmother was no saint. That is not a judgment. It is a fact that she admitted.

During one of my last calls with her, I asked how she was doing and how she was spending her time. She said and I quote

” I spend half of my time, to myself, reflecting on my life and minding my own business and asking for God’s forgiveness. I spend the other half of the time, staying out of other people’s business. Judge lest ye be judged.”

Writer Kent Crockett tells about a married couple who pulled into a full service gas station to refuel their car. As the tank was being filled, the station attendant washed the windshield. So you know this must have been sometime ago. Anyway, when the attendant finished, the husband stuck his head out the window and said, “It’s still dirty. Wash it again.”

“Yes, sir,” the attendant replied. After he cleaned it a second time, the husband said, “Don’t you know how to wash a windshield? It’s still filthy. Now do it again!”

The attendant scrubbed the windshield a third time, carefully looking for any messy spots he might have missed. By now the husband was fuming. “I can’t believe you are so incompetent that you can’t even do a simple job like cleaning a windshield! I’m going to report you to your boss!”

Just then, his wife reached over and removed her husband’s glasses. She wiped them clean with a tissue, then put them back on his face. And it was amazing how clean the windshield was! (3)

We forget that when we judge others, we are looking through our own smudged lens. Sometimes we criticize others unfairly. We don’t know all their circumstances, or their motives. Only God, who is aware of all the facts and is able to judge people rightly.

I will close with a reframing of my grandmother’s comments during our call.

“I spend half of my time tending to my own wheat and weeds and the other half not passing judgment as you tend to yours.”

In the meantime, we are to focus on what God has called us to do which is to care for all his people and to witness to his amazing grace of as shown in Jesus Christ. AMEN!

1. Alexander Humez, Nicholas Humez and Joseph Maguire, Zero to Lazy Eight (Simon & Schuster), Reader’s Digest, Dec. 1994, p. 154. 2. Philip Yancey in What’s So Amazing About Grace? Leadership, Vol. 19, no. 3. Cited by Rev. Adrian Dieleman. http://www.trinitycrc.org/sermons/1tim2v05-06.html. 3. http://www.kentcrockett.blogspot.com/.

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.