The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany: The Beatitudes

February 15, 2022 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Luke 6:17-31

Jesus came down with the twelve and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them.

Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.

“Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.

“Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.

“Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.

“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.”

Jesus said, “I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Last week Fr. Bill told us about how meaningful part of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians is to him, that it is a defining scripture in his faith. The lectionary writers have been especially kind because this week I get to talk about mine. The beatitudes – and especially Luke’s version so important because they are a glimpse into the very heart and mind of God. This is how we know what God values. I think it speaks to us as 21st century people.

I prefer it to the version in Matthew’s gospel because this understanding about God makes all the difference in our lives and in the way that we respond to other people, especially those whose lives are different from ours. And most important, Luke’s version gives us a way to turn things around when we lose sight of what is important to God and gives us a path back.

Blessed are the poor Jesus says to them. Right on top, first thing. The poor receive the first and greatest blessing. Jesus reassures them. Theirs is the kingdom of God. You may have little here. But you are so loved by God that you have the entire Kingdom. You have everything.

Let’s remember who Jesus’ immediate audience was: fishermen, tradesmen, average hard working folks who had walked away from their families and livelihoods to become his disciples. At this time, the general feeling was that if you have lots of stuff, a lovely home and plenty to eat you have them because God loved you and cared about you and wanted to bless you. Jesus turns that inside out. Blessed are you, he tells them, when you have none of these things. God loves you too. God blesses you too with things eternal that will not change and will not fade away.

The poor today are often seen as lazy, as an embarrassment to themselves or society generally. They are seen as “the architects of their own destruction” as the saying goes. Can you hear the judgment in that? That’s the conclusion that we too quickly draw. Have you ever walked past someone clearly living in poverty and thought about how richly blessed that person is? No, me neither.

And yet, here is Jesus trying to shake us loose from those assumptions, and give us a different vision of life - one that has its foundations not in the world but in the very nature of God. Jesus’ words from the Beatitudes speak to us about people who were disenfranchised, powerless to make things happen. He told them there was another kingdom, not of this world, in which their aspirations were honored. He also assured them that God recognized their plight, and would uphold them.

There are people throughout our land who are in just such a predicament today. In February we observe Black History Month, a time to recognize a whole group of people who have been hated, reviled, and excluded because of their race. Their poverty has roots in the fact that they have limited choices in parts of life that most of us take for granted – where they can live, go to school, work, shop for the things they need. That’s what poverty really is, a lack of choice. Who hears the cry of their plight? Jesus tells us that God hears them, sees their predicament, and intends justice to be their reward.

Luke even adds a section of “woes” to the Beatitudes to show the coming reversal, when the poor, the undervalued, the excluded, and the reviled will be the joyous and those who have had it good will be impoverished, hungry, and grieving. It offers not only an outpouring of God’s love but also a way back.

When we find ourselves living lives that fall more easily into the “Woe To You” world than in the “Blessed Are You” section it’s because it’s tempting to downplay our own blessings. Doing so exempts us from helping those who have less. I might have a house and be able to pay all my utilities each month, but all the other costs and responsibilities feel heavy. I don’t always remember the blessing of having a home.

A friend who teaches ethics at a junior college asked her students to seriously consider whether they would give up their own comforts in order to ensure another person would have enough to survive. Most responded with uncertainty. They’re not used to thinking of themselves as rich to begin with. So the idea that they actually are is a strange proposition.

Her experience is that students are much more comfortable arguing why those two things are unrelated than they are with admitting that there are some things they’d refuse to go without. And besides, they assert, they have what they have because they have worked hard and made all the right decisions. And while that may be true, it doesn’t occur to them that they are where they are because of blessings – parents that supported them, teachers who took an interest in them, school districts who implemented programs allowing them to explore their gifts. Blessings that not everyone has.

The Gospel never settles for accommodation. Jesus makes no excuses for those who have plenty; their fortunes will change. As the lesson from Jeremiah reminds us, “I the Lord test the mind and search the heart to give to all according to their ways, according to the fruit of their doings.”

I’ve been reading about naturalist Jane Goodall. I’m sure you’ve heard about her work with chimpanzees in Africa. In the process of observing wild things she’s become something of an expert on how all living creatures treat one another and how it seems to have deteriorated during her lifetime. The question she has most often been asked is if she believes there is a hope for our world. Her answer is an emphatic yes. Hope is often misunderstood, she says. People tend to think of it as passive, wishful thinking.

But hope requires action and engagement. All these situations that Jesus talks about today – poverty, grief and hatred – seem so pervasive and well-entrenched that we can’t possibly do anything about it. The Good News today is that we can! Thankfully, Luke gives a roadmap of return to God’s blessings filled with hopefulness. As one of my favorite movie lines goes: “God loves you just as you are and loves you way too much to let you stay that way.”

Luke’s gospel is where we see how to turn woes into blessings. Luke’s gospel gives us reason to hope. Jesus tells us to love your enemies, offer a blessing when you are cursed, pray for those who abuse you, turn the other cheek to one who strikes you, give to those who beg from you. All these things have one thing in common. They break the cycle of violence. They allow love to be present where none can be found.

Jesus asks that our response to those who want to harm us not be predicated on their behavior and instead return good for bad. If we return violence for violence where will it stop? If we curse those who curse us, how can the nastiness possibly end? Where will we see God and allow God to work? Ending the cycles of violence puts hope into action, hope for being a part of God’s love for the world in spreading God’s love to all. Our actions inspire others. Hope is contagious.

It’s up to us. In the beatitudes Jesus offers us his picture of God’s values and God’s priorities; and he offers them as an alternative to the vision of life the world imposes on us. We can only act on what we see and embrace; and Jesus is giving us the chance to see farther, and clearer, and deeper than ever before. Blessed are you when the heart and mind of God live and act through you. Amen.

The Sermon of the Beatitudes - James Tissot

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany: A Foundation for Faith

February 6, 2022 Andrea Schmid

by. Fr. Bill Garrison

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

1 Corinthians 15:1-11

I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you--unless you have come to believe in vain.

For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them--though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe.

Luke 5:1-11

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch." Simon answered, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets." When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people." When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

The gospel this morning has a famous story about catching fish so I thought I would tell a tale about fish too.

A woman was walking on a beach in Texas carrying two Redfish in a bucket. A game warden walks up and asked to see her fishing license.

“I don’t have a fishing license,” said the woman.

“You know it’s illegal to fish without a license, right?” asked the warden.

“I wasn’t fishing, officer. These Redfish are my pets.”

“Your pets?”

“Yes, officer. They like a little exercise, so when the weather’s fine, I take them to the water and let them swim around. Once they’re done, I give them a whistle and they jump back into my bucket and we head home.”

The officer wasn’t buying a word of it, so the woman said “Don’t believe me? Watch!” and she threw the fish into the sea.

The warden waited for a minute then said, “Alright, now whistle to your fish and make them jump out of the water.”

The fisherwoman turned to the officer and said, “What fish?”

I hope you will forgive me for jumping around a little bit. Something happens in the gospel that has always fascinated me since I learned the meaning of what Jesus has done. Specifically, he gets into a boat and has it pushed a small way away from shore, sits down, and then begins to teach the people on shore. Why would he do that? Isn’t there room for him on shore? Is the crowd too big?

No. Jesus is making an amphitheater so that the listeners can hear him better. The boat, water, and shore have formed a natural amphitheater. There are no sound systems in antiquity. They smartly created their own to augment their natural voices. I think that is really interesting and tells me something else important about Jesus.

The rest of the gospel is a miracle, a fish story. They caught a bunch of fish and Jesus laid out for them what their futures looked like. They would be catching people, not fish. They would be following him.

Now let’s go to the New Testament lesson. Here is where I would like us to concentrate. Paul is speaking. “For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me.”

I have spoken about this passage before. I will speak about it again in the future, I am sure. Personally, this passage is the foundation of my faith.

Paul wrote a letter to the folks in Corinth, this letter, from which we just read an excerpt, about year 55 or so of the First Century. That would have been about 20 or so years after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Paul never thought this letter would become part of history, but it has along with the six others he wrote that we find in the New Testament. (I know there are more than seven credited to Paul but scholarship has shown only seven of them were truly written by him.) These letters open a window into the reality of the first century. Again, they are historical in nature not just a nice story.

So, let’s hear again what he said. I will pick out the facts in the narrative. After his resurrection from the dead Jesus appeared to Cephas; that’s the nickname for Peter. He appeared to the Apostles. He appeared to more than five hundred men and women at one time, most of whom were still alive at the time of Paul’s writing. Then he appeared to James the brother of Jesus. And he appeared to Paul.

Folks I would be willing to wager that the risen Jesus was experienced by a ton of people. Probably if you hadn’t seen him yourself in the holy land you knew someone who had. The question of the day wasn’t whether Jesus had risen from the dead. People knew he had. The question was what exactly did it mean?

I remember one Easter when a fellow said to me, “You mean Jesus coming back from the dead really happened? Wow, that’s very cool.”

Yes. That’s very cool.

So, here’s our invitation. As human beings of the 21st century we have doubts about everything from time to time. We wonder if the resurrection is true, because if it isn’t we are all fools indeed as Paul states in another passage. So, don’t be afraid to reassure yourself. Look this passage up. Read it again, as many times as you need. Then feel once again the historical truth of the resurrection, and think about how much it means to each one of us. The resurrection of Jesus Christ makes everything different and everything so much better. Eternal life for each of us and Jesus’ formula for living is found there. It can’t get any better than that.

The Fourth Sunday after the Ephiphany: Epiphany Moments

January 31, 2022 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Luke 4:21-30

Jesus began to speak in the synagogue at Nazareth: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is not this Joseph's son?”

He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, 'Doctor, cure yourself!' And you will say, 'Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.'“ And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet's hometown. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.”

When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

Let us pray:

Holy God, give us wisdom to perceive you, intelligence to understand you, diligence to seek you, patience to wait for you, eyes to see you, a heart to meditate on you, and a life to proclaim you, through the power of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

We’ve just prayed the simple but powerful prayer of St. Benedict. And it speaks beautifully to what happens in the gospel today which is “the rest of the story.” Last Sunday we heard about Jesus reading in his hometown synagogue from Isaiah. His closing affirmation last week is what opens our reading this week.

Jesus tells them stories to remind them that that they were the people chosen by God to live their lives in a way that shows the faith, hope, and love that God desires for all people. What he is saying with all these stories and proverbs is, in effect, “Get with it. Be a companion of those who are brokenhearted. Give hope to those without vision. Work to free the oppressed. Forgive people from their debts. Live that kind of life. You are already God’s people called to do God’s work, just like me.”

The wonderful thing about these Epiphany gospel lessons is that they don’t paint an entirely pretty picture for us. They also take into account the pitfalls we encounter on our own epiphany journeys. Luke does not want us to believe it’s a simple and painless process - even for Jesus Christ. He even begins with those famous cautionary words, “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.” Preaching to the people of Nazareth, his own hometown, Jesus tells of the work of the prophets Elijah and Elisha, and of how they were able to help isolated sufferers, but by no means all of the people who were in need. These were not stories the folks in the synagogue that day wanted to hear – especially from one of their own.

They cannot see beyond the little kid from the neighborhood who is grew up playing with their kids. Now one of their own is enjoying fame as a beloved rabbi, healer and miracle worker. That’s all they want to see and hear from him. But as it happened, there was no Epiphany moment for those people in that place.

I wonder if you have every felt an Epiphany moment of understanding who you are and who you are called to be in spite of how others saw you – or couldn’t see you? I hope so. I think many of us have. It’s almost like getting a new pair of glasses that shows you secret things that are really happening so that you finally understand your true promise and potential, the truth of God’s dream for you. And once you’ve looked through those lenses – whether it’s an epiphany about yourself or someone else - your life is transformed. You can relax into the way forward that is so clear. And you just don’t go back.

I’ve told this story before about my own Epiphany. Please forgive me if you’ve heard it before. I was Assisting Chaplain at a retirement community while I was in seminary. Understandably, we did many memorial services. At one of these, the chaplain and I greeted the friends and family as they. One of them was a priest who sat down in the family section. He was in collar and black suit. The senior chaplain didn’t recognize him.

At the reception after the service, I eagerly went to talk to him. In the conversation we talked about chaplain work and I told him I was a postulant for the priesthood. He scoffed and looked down at me. He was quite tall. And said “you cannot be a priest.” In my naiveté, I thought he just didn’t understand the ordination process and so I said “well yes, I’m a postulant and God willing will be ordained in a couple years.” He cut me off, looked down his nose at me and said with great disdain. “As a woman, you cannot possibly consecrate the sacrament. You are improper matter for priesthood.”

I was so shocked. In my mind I ran through possible explanations… he’s joking… he didn’t hear me… he doesn’t understand the process… And then the last and correct one, he can’t see me. He’s set into archaic and rigid ideas about who God calls to ordained ministry. No Epiphany moment for him. But the start of quite a big one for me.

After absorbing the shock wave of his words, the meanness of what he said set in. He was a priest. And I started to question my call. Was he right? Was he some kind of messenger with a truth that I needed to pay attention to? Up until that time, everyone I knew supported me and was cheering me on. But was he right?

I spent considerable time in prayer and reflection, talking to my mentor and my spiritual director. And I came to understand the depth and certainty of my own call to ministry and what it was going to take in a way I never had. I grew so much closer to God. I understood with crystal clarity that God had called me, was with me in the process no matter what, no matter who. My response to him if I could have a “do-over” would be simple. “And yet, I’m here. I’m called by God and I’m here.” As Brene Brown says so well “don’t puff up, don’t shrink back. Stand your sacred ground.” My Epiphany was in standing the sacred ground of the knowledge of God’s love and support for me.

Photo by **Burak Kebapci** from **Pexels**

The Epiphany moment is not the end of the story for any of us. Just as Jesus passed through the crowd in the power of God’s protection to move forward with his ministry, epiphanies are a process through seasons of understanding. It’s thrilling to recognize them and continually call on their lessons to empower our lives.

They come in all sizes. We remember most vividly the “burning bush” moments but it’s really the small epiphanies that mean the most. Because the things that reveal God are woven seamlessly into the fabric of ordinary life. One of our Soup Hour guests who gets his mail here asked me one early morning if he could have his mail. I should have told him to wait until 2:00. That’s the rule. But I had an Epiphany moment when I realized how great his need was compared with the minimal effort it would take me to go look in his mailbox. Mail is hope for meaningful connection with others. How could I deny him that? I also saw my own privilege. I can go get my mail any time. I can walk out to my mailbox at midnight if I want to. But for him it’s Monday through Friday 2 to 4. That’s all he has.

In this time of on-going conflicts among nations, among families and groups of friends, where people are slow to imagine that they might listen and learn from someone who acts or speaks differently than they do, what if we were open to hearing the spirit’s voice in the words and actions of others? Would we see scripture fulfilled right in front of us? Could we go beyond the boundaries just like Elijah, Elisha, and Jeremiah did? If we did, perhaps we would could answer our call to being good news.

May God grant us wisdom to perceive, intelligence to understand, diligence to seek, patience to wait, eyes to see, and a life to proclaim God’s love, through the power of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

The Third Sunday after the Epiphany: Seeing Clearly

January 23, 2022 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Luke 4:14-21

Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country. He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone.

When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

Here’s a funny I haven’t shared in quite a while and this quick story seems like a good place to start our conversation this morning.

Late one night a police officer saw a young fellow intently searching the ground near a lamppost and pulled over to ask him what was he looking for? Had he lost something? The you fellow replied that he was looking for his car keys. So, the officer decided to help him out and searched with him for a few minutes without success. Then, having not found them, he asked his new young friend where exactly he had dropped them.

The young man replied, “oh about thirty feet that way down the block.”

“Then why are we looking here?”, asked the officer.

“Because the light is much better here than it is way over there.”

Now we laugh at this joke and what makes it funny is how dumb this young man appears to be. But I wonder. Is he so different from most of the rest of us? Do we too spend a lot of our time looking for important things in places that make no sense? Hmmm. Let’s think about that for a moment as we review today’s gospel.

Jesus was visiting his home town, maybe his home synagogue. And since he was visiting the leaders asked him to read and teach a little bit. So, he opened the Isaiah scroll and read. Let’s hear it again.

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.”

Then Jesus handed the scroll back to the attendant and spoke these words. “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Now think about being a person sitting in the room and witnessing what just happened. “What did he just say? Does he mean what I think he means? This guy is a carpenter’s son. We have known him since he was a kid. Now he thinks he’s the messiah? What? I don’t know if I am angry with him, or fearful for his sanity.”

And so, if we read the various accounts of this story, we find the crowd is not pleased with Jesus in any way, shape, or form.

Twenty centuries later we recognize the hometown folks missed the boat. Jesus was exactly the person being described in the Isaiah scroll. He is God’s great gift to the world. This fact he said was confirmed in their hearing. The folks in the room couldn’t accept it.

Let’s think about those in attendance. I am quite sure their goals in life were much as ours are. They wanted to live in a nice home with someone they loved. They wanted to have children and set their children up for successful lives. They looked after their parents in older age. When they went to their place of work, they wanted to be successful at what they did. Whatever appliances were available at the time to make their lives easier were something they hoped to have. They wanted good health and a rapid recovery from any illness that befell them. They wanted to be safe from harm. They wanted to know that the next day’s food wasn’t going to be a problem, that it was available. Friends were important, I am sure. Keeping the government and the police at bay was probably a priority, and not falling behind on their taxes was as important then as it is now. And most important of all they were looking for a system for living that would insure them of all of their necessities, hopes, and dreams.

This all sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Have you noticed how loudly people are promoting their particular panaceas for living today? Whatever issue you may have there is someone ready to tell you how to solve it or how to avoid it in the future. There are plans for everything I mentioned that concerned the people twenty centuries earlier and still concern the people of today. Just check out the billboards as you drive by, the ads as you watch television, the beliefs shouted at you from the radio, the self-help books in the stores, and the professionals for hire that promise to lead you down the correct path to their version of nirvana. Yet we, like those folks of old, struggle with the question of to whom to listen.

When I was a chaplain at St. Margaret’s some years ago, I was preaching a sermon to the high school kids and their teachers. I made the following statement during my chat which sent a few folks over the edge. Here is what I said. “I don’t care what name you use for God; every religion is worshipping the same God.”

Man, some people were mad at me. The idea that we all worship the same God, but sometimes in radically different ways, was just too much to accept. Most even went so far as to say there were different gods. I wonder what would have happened if I had mentioned that Jesus was always a Jewish male and never a Christian. In fact, Christianity didn’t even exist until well after Jesus’ lifetime.

But I digress a little bit. Here’s my point. A huge majority of the planet has some way of worshipping God. We Christians are lucky in our worship because Jesus gives us such great insight into the nature of God, and through Jesus we have eternal life. Yet we must also remember that every other major religion in the world thinks they have the best understanding and path to God too. And the common point? A huge majority of the world is worshipping the same God.

And so, as we move through our lives constantly bombarded by folks telling us how best to live those lives, do we realize we too are missing the obvious point? Jesus was in front of his hometown folks who could not see him for who he was. We seem often to have the same problem, a problem the entire planet seems to share. God, the creator of everything that exists, is seeking to be in relationship with every one of us. But perhaps God seems too familiar, just as Jesus seemed too familiar to the folks in his hometown, to be taken as seriously as God should be taken. So perhaps I will borrow the words of a fellow I used to coach football with. Perhaps once in a while we need to shake our heads a few times and get our eyes unstuck and recognize what’s right in front of us.

The Second Sunday after the Epiphany: Sharing Our Gifts

January 20, 2022 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

John 2:1-11

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed. You know that when you were pagans, you were enticed and led astray to idols that could not speak. Therefore I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says "Let Jesus be cursed!" and no one can say "Jesus is Lord" except by the Holy Spirit.

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses.

I’ve always thought that this gospel would be just perfect for the second Sunday in May because that’s Mother’s Day. That usually falls during Easter season and this isn’t an Easter kind of story. But this interaction between Mary and Jesus – with God at the center - is so true to life and so relate-able, reveals both the human and the divine story in both of them. So forgive me if I spend a little time on Mary and her part in this. Just as we heard in Advent, this Epiphany moment is largely here because she nudges it into being. Jesus ministry starts in an unlikely time and place with her not-so-subtle prompting that we can safely assume came to her from God.

Those of us who were fortunate to have someone in our lives who was proactive in mothering us – whether it was our actual mother or someone who took that role – can understand Jesus’ reaction to Mary’s prompting. Did you have a mom who pushed you to get out on that stage, or that athletic field, or join a debate club, or a church choir, enter the science fair or go out and play with the new kid in the neighborhood? Moms do that. Moms tend to be partners with God in many ways. Of all the people in our lives, mothers tend to see us as God sees us – through eyes and hearts brimming with love and confidence and pride and joy.

Jesus reacts to her the same way we might respond to our pushy mothers. Whatever timing he has in mind, this isn’t it. He’s abrupt with her: leave it alone, don’t push me. Maybe even don’t embarrass me in front of my friends by telling me what to do. I’m not ready.

Mary pretty much ignores that and assumes that Jesus is going to be a good son and listen to his mother-and he does. Why wouldn’t he? It’s safe to assume that Jesus knows the circumstances of his birth, has heard how angels visited both his parents. How God clearly favored them and called upon them to accomplish great things. And they said yes, even though it wasn’t a good time or place to do so. Perhaps initiating the revelation of the glory of God on earth right then in the pantry of a country wedding with a few servants looking on was one of those great things. Mary is a woman we can trust to be connected to God and pay attention to God’s promptings throughout all time.

Now, this story is not about the bride and groom or the needs of the wedding guests. It is about Jesus. This first time that Jesus made his full self known, even to his disciples, he did so in response to real and important human need. To run out of wine in the middle of a wedding celebration would have been so shameful the couple never would have heard the end of it. And Jesus responded to that human need with the simplest of things – water, clay jars, a ladle. He created something new, created wonder, taking them out of their places of common understanding.

Jesus revealed himself for the sake of others. Who he was and what he had was not for him. It was always and only for others from the very beginning.

Keep that in mind as we think for a minute about the Epistle. The verses we heard today from Paul address peculiar things that were going on in the church in Corinth in the first century – things that were selfish and unkind. They were a religious community gone far from The Way of Jesus Christ. Clearly they were not invested in the idea of doing the loving thing. There was a strong sense of who is best and who is the rest.

And they appear to have been having different spiritual experiences and encounters with God - which is not a bad thing - but they were getting possessive and competitive about it. They were saying things like, “this gift is mine, this way of doing things is mine, this spirituality is mine.”

What Paul says to them is what Jesus made real when the wine at the wedding gave out. Paul tells the Corinthians, “what you have is simply not for you. What you have is for others.” To each is given the presence of the spirit for the common good. This is a fundamental spiritual truth about the nature and purpose of God and God’s dream for God’s people. Then and now.

The gifts we are given – the ones we like and the ones we don’t especially like – are not for us. Maybe even not about us. All that we have has been gifted to us by God. It is given us so that we might be givers, so that we might build up, so that we might help, so that we might be a part of something greater, so that we might serve our neighbors and build up this place in this time for the Kingdom of God. In one way or another, that is the purpose of our lives, and everything in them.

The church members in Corinth couldn’t possibly get their community aligned with God’s dream for them until they realized that what they had was not for them or about them. It was given to them so they could use it to give, and to build, and to help, and to create.

What Jesus had that made him special, and unique was not given to him for his own sake. It was given so Jesus could choose to give all of himself for all of us.

At the wedding in Cana of Galilee, Jesus chose to abandon his own plans and his own schedule, and to reach out. And because he did there was plenty of wine for the guests of the wedding couple. There was an absolute deluge of excellent wine. One expert believes that based on the number and size of jars of water, he created 600 bottles. From simple clay jars, from water. God through Jesus took what seems simple to us and made it into a sacrament.

We are invited in this gospel to trust in God’s generosity and abundance. To rejoice in it. To search endlessly for it. No better example of the gift of abundance in our lives than air – so complex but so simple. These last few days since our rain storms the air has been sweet and clear. Those of you who are knowledgeable about physical sciences – and that would be virtually all of you here compared to me – know that air is made up of many chemicals mostly nitrogen and oxygen and dozens of lesser and trace chemicals. But when we take it in, it is so simple. It’s a complex gift given to us in a simple accessible way. Just go outside. Just breathe. I only understood this through the eyes and experience of my friend Phil.

Phil suffered from a lung disease that at times would be so severe that he would end up in the hospital. He needed help of machines to be able to breath. After one particularly serious episode we talked about how he now treasured the simple gift of air, of the ability to take a deep breath that he had taken for granted most of his life. Now her understood it as a sacrament – an ordinary thing made holy when seen through new eyes. “When I can fill my lungs with air, he said “it extinguishes fear. And I understand how completely God holds me.”

Rabbi Abraham Heschel said that “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. To get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually.”

So, how do we do this? Listen to Mary. Do whatever Jesus tells you. Jesus gives us simple, straightforward things to do. There are lots of verbs in the gospels that really aren’t hard to understand when it comes right down to it. Jesus tells us to love, share, give, serve, listen, learn, worship, pray. The mundane becomes miraculous. When we do these things, the old inferior wine is forgotten. It‘s all good wine now. God’s Kingdom increases by and through each of us.

This is not magic. This is the true connection to the Creator – God in Jesus, Jesus in God. Every Epiphany is a moment of creation, even for us. An uncovering that shows us that our hour has come to follow him. As simple and pure and accessible and uncomplicated as a long deep in-take of breath.

Mary gives the answer: do whatever he tells you. Seek life at its source. Seek joy at its source. Seek to know what Jesus Christ asks of you. This is the key for joining Jesus in his new way of being in the world. Take a deep breath today. For yourself, in empathy with those who cannot, to take away the fear and instead live in amazement of the simple gifts we’re given. Amen.

The First Sunday after the Epiphany

January 14, 2022 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

Today is the first Sunday in Epiphany. The word Epiphany tells us what the season is about. It’s the coming of a new understanding. It is seeing things in a new way. It is becoming aware for the first time. I want to chat with you about Epiphany, but before we get serious here is one of my favorite stories which I haven’t told in a while about seeing things in a fresh way.

John Smith was the only Protestant to move into a large Catholic neighborhood. On the first Friday of Lent, John was outside grilling a big juicy steak on his grill. Meanwhile, all of his neighbors were eating cold tuna fish for supper.

This went on each Friday of Lent. On the last Friday of Lent, the neighborhood men got together and decided that something had to be done about John, he was tempting them to eat meat each Friday of Lent, and they couldn't take it anymore. They decided to try and convert John to Catholicism.

They went over and talked to him and were so happy that he decided to join all of his neighbors and become a Catholic. They took him to Church, and the Priest sprinkled some water over him, and said, “You were born a Baptist, you were raised a Baptist, and now you are a Catholic.” The men were so relieved--now their biggest Lenten temptation was resolved.

The next year's Lenten season rolled around. The first Friday of Lent came, and just at supper time, when the neighborhood was setting down to their tuna fish dinner, came the wafting smell of steak cooking on a grill. The neighborhood men could not believe their noses!

They called each other up and decided to meet over in John's yard to see if he had forgotten it was the first Friday of Lent? The group arrived just in time to see John standing over his grill with a small pitcher of water. He was sprinkling some water over his steak on the grill, saying, “You were born a cow, you were raised a cow, and now you are a fish.”

The gospel today speaks about the baptism of Jesus. Let me quote the last couple of lines. “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Jesus, the man John indicated was coming had arrived. The eyes and ears of those present were opened. In that moment their image and understanding of Jesus was permanently and irrevocably enhanced. And for us we understand this was the beginning of a series of Epiphanies during his time with us on earth. The New Testament is full of his teachings and miracles, each an epiphany that opens our eyes to new realizations about God and each other.

I think this might be a helpful metaphor for what we are discussing. Think about getting out of bed in the dark. The ambient light and your memory allows you to get around without running into things, and so you go wherever you intended to go, and do so safely. But perhaps while you are up you have a need to find something and you are not entirely sure of its location. You have to turn on the light, and when you do it’s blinding at first. You really can’t see at all. But as your eyes adjust the room looks entirely different than it did in the dark. It’s almost as if you are in a different place altogether. It’s an epiphany as you see things in the light that were impossible to see in the dark. Is it any wonder that the contrast of light and darkness is so often used in scripture? To finish the metaphor, we live in the darkness and get by day in and day out with the ambient light. Then when the lights get turned on we find things as a result that we hadn’t seen before. This is our epiphany.

And, interestingly, if there is a mirror available, we see ourselves more clearly, in a way we never could have before. Sometimes we approve of what we see. Sometimes we don’t. Epiphanies come in positives and negatives too, but either way we learn something we didn’t know beforehand.

As an example, I remember when my understanding of people and how folks view things changed in an instant. My favorite seminary professor introduced myself and the class to the idea of social location. Basically, if you are unfamiliar, social location concerns the influences that form each of us. Here are a few of those influences as an example. What is your gender, age, financial status, geographical location, race, religious persuasion, height, weight, community, parents, etcetera? Get the idea? Each of these helps to form us. And these examples are just the start of all the things that influence our development.

So as an example, how I view the Virgin Mary will be completely different than a little, barefoot and pregnant 15-year-old native girl in Bolivia will view her. She has a lot more in common with Mary than I do. But until I learned about social location, I had never considered her viewpoint. I had seen Mary from a theological viewpoint only. She probably sees Mary as a compatriot, one with whom she can personally relate.

Since that epiphany I have never observed any other human being the same way as before. Including myself! I was changed in an instant.

So where did this learning come from? Well, we might say my professor. And that would be true. But I would submit to you it’s more complicated than that. You see I found myself in that class with a man that had the knowledge to impart to those attending. Then I heard him speak and understood what he had to say. But most important of all, at least it seems to me, the information came to me highlighted in some way I cannot understand unless I credit God for turning on the lights in the room so to speak, to continue the metaphor.

I have since gone back and reviewed my class notes. I must admit there is much that I have forgotten. It’s almost embarrassing. But I have not forgotten the important concept of social location. Simply put, God turned on the lights in the room and I discovered and internalized this most important concept.

It helped me to overcome my life up to then of a white male who had never been challenged to consider or even understand that there could be multiple viewpoints in life. I had assumed that others saw the world around them in the same way as myself. And I could not have been more wrong about that. This epiphany had set me free to see and experience as I had been unable to do prior.

Thank you, God.

Christmas Day

December 29, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Luke 2:1-20

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger." And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us." So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Some dear friends of mine were in London a few years ago and had an interesting experience. Instead of staying in a hotel, they rented what’s called a narrow boat. These are moored in the canals that wind through London. And although their boat was stationary, other narrowboats would travel by them at the brisk pace of about 3 or 4 mph. Boats are long and narrow from 50 to 70 feet long and about 6 feet wide. And they are steered from the back.

One morning they were sitting out on their deck when a narrow boat started to come slowly past them. And perched on the front like a hood ornament on a car was a startling sight – a pink stiletto shoe! A stiletto is a very fancy piece of ladies footwear - a pointed toe and a pencil thin heel about 5 inches tall. And there was just one. It’s hard to imagine a stranger sight! Perched on the bow of this rough and sturdy river boat. And they wondered immediately – what is the story?

Now conversations with other boaters on the river is a common thing. They tend to be an easy going, collegial group of folks. And as the back of the boat approached they could have greeted the captain and asked about the pink stiletto. But they didn’t. They didn’t ask. They didn’t want to take a risk. I’m not sure why. Maybe they were afraid to look foolish or interrupt his train of thought. But they didn’t get the story. They missed out. To this day, they wonder what it was all about. And they are pretty sure they missed a unique story from an interesting man.

My friends’ adventure – or misadventure – reminds me of the shepherds and their reaction to the announcement of the angels, their opportunity to ask, to hear the story, to be witnesses to the triumph of the power of love over the love of power. Their response to seeing the angels, hearing about the baby in the manger was to go and see.

The angels were the ones God sent to tell the good news to the shepherds. In those days, shepherds were not considered quaint or delightfully simple. They were considered unclean, dishonest, and religiously lacking. It’s hard to keep the Law of Moses on a hillside but it doesn’t seem that anyone cut them any slack for that. In fact, the shepherds were almost certainly the least important of those within walking distance of Bethlehem. But they heard the news first.

God is like that. God reveals the most wonderful things to those who society doesn’t think are especially worthy of wonderful things. And so they went. More important that the flock, more important than anything else. No one stayed behind. None of the shepherds said “I don’t think I’ll go, I’ll just stay here. You let me know what happened, fill me in later.” They dropped everything and went.

And what happens when you come to visit a newborn and its family? I suspect it’s been the same throughout time. You see this tiny infant. And you’re just awash with the miracle of it all. There’s been a long wait for the little one to arrive. Even if you’ve seen those incredible scans that medical technology can provide today there’s still nothing like seeing the baby. There’s nothing like holding the baby which moms usually offer. “Would you like to hold the baby?”

And I wonder if Mary, after hearing that they also had a visit from an angel just as she had, just as Joseph had and pondering it in her heart, I wonder if Mary didn’t feel such a connection to these wild and rough shepherds if she didn’t ask if he wanted to hold the baby.

If you had a chance this Christmas morning to hold the baby Jesus in your arms, what would you say to him?

In 1994 Richard Schmidt wrote a reflection entitled, “Christmas: Let Me Hold You, Dear Little Jesus.”

Little Jesus, let us hold you now. On this holy day of celebration, let us cradle you in our arms. Let us hold you and keep you warm. Now, while you are small and vulnerable, let us watch over you. We want to hold you now, because very often in times to come, you will hold us.

Sleep well, sweet baby. Rest your tiny eyes. For someday you will look at the world and you will see the pain and loneliness and ache that humans bear. You will look at us and see us just as we are, with all our loveliness and sins. You will look and see the Christ within each one of us, and you will try to teach us to see it too.

Hush now, sweet baby. For someday from your mouth eternity will speak. Your words will define grace, pronounce blessings, teach, and paint pictures with words so we too might see our eternal God the way you know God to be. You will speak forgiveness to those who wrong you, will invite us to paradise to be with you forever, will send us forth in your name to all the world. Your words will echo down through centuries, bringing meaning and hope to our lives.

Rest now, tiny child. For someday you will walk many miles to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives. Someday you will stride out across billowing waves in a storm-tossed sea. Rest your feet now, for someday millions will follow in your footsteps.

And sweet baby, with your little heart, how much love you will show. Rest now. And let us hold you. Someday we will feel deep sadness and sorrow. Something will happen in our lifetimes that grieves us so deeply that we may wonder where you are. But you will come to us, then, not as a helpless baby, but as the Prince of Peace. You will remind us of the promises of God, of the strength of hope, of God’s deep loving kindness, God’s steadfast love. You will hold us close, and if we are quiet enough to hear, you will whisper to us that all will be well. You will tell us that you are here for us always, not just when we are empty enough to know we need you. You walk beside us, offering us your peace every day.

You will come to us not be a helpless infant then. When you come to find us, you will come as our Wonderful Counselor, our deliverer. You will tell us that you searched for us. And when you find us, you will invite us to your banqueting table and nourish us with your very self. You will remind us that we belong to you; we are yours.

You will do all of these things for us at great cost to yourself. You will teach us the meaning of giving, all that we have and are, on behalf of goodness and love, no matter the cost.

But that will be someday. Today we adore you as a baby. We welcome you as a helpless, vulnerable babe, as the Almighty God who became a child so we could become full mature human beings. This is the day, the wondrous day when the creatures hold our creator. This is the day of grace, when the Lord of heaven and earth stoops down, reverses roles, and allows us – the finite – to serve the infinite God.

This Christmas day, don’t miss out on the story. Come to the manger. Come to the light. This is God’s story, it’s our story. Everything we need to celebrate what is good and get through the dark times is there. Amen.

Christmas Eve

December 29, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Luke 2:1-20

"Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

James and Neil were fortunate enough to have season tickets to watch their favorite football team play. They could not help noticing that there was always a spare seat next to them and they had a friend who would love to buy a season ticket, especially if all three could have seats together.

One half-time Neil went to the ticket office and asked if they could buy the season ticket for A16, that empty seat. The ticket agent said that unfortunately the ticket had been sold. Nevertheless, week after week the seat was still empty.

Then on the first Sunday after Christmas, much to James and Neil's amazement, the seat was taken for the first time that season. Neil could not resist asking the newcomer, 'Where have you been all season?'.

'Don't ask' he said, 'the wife bought the season ticket last summer, and kept it for my special Christmas present.'

I have a confession to make. Christmas Eve is my favorite Christian celebration of the year. I know! It should be Easter, and I completely understand why. But ever since I became aware of Christmas Eve as a church service, not just as a night to get through until morning so I could open my presents, this service has remained my favorite.

The first place I remember celebrating Christmas Eve was at St. Marks-On-The-Mesa Episcopal Church in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Southwest architecture lends itself to making memories. If you are unaware, many of the buildings in that part of the country have flat roofs. Yes, they do and they appear to be of adobe construction even when they aren’t.

At Christmas time many people outline the buildings with Luminarios. Those are sacks containing sand and a candle which is lit at night. They also place them at other prominent places such as walkways. I know it sounds dangerous, so I imagine many of the lights were actually battery-operated electric lights, but either way the look is magnificent.

Combining the lights with the cold, crisp air, the greenery inside the church, and the incredible music we hear at this time of year, you have an experience never to be forgotten. At least I never have. I set the scene clearly in my mind’s eye all these many years later.

The second place I have great memories of at Christmas Eve is in Bartlesville, Oklahoma at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church. The building sort of reminds one of a Cathedral, but shrunk down to church size. It’s a very beautiful church. The look remains magnificent inside, and it definitely feels like a special church the moment you enter.

Normally it’s pretty cold there on Christmas Eve, sometimes ten degrees or below. For some reason I only remember clear skies with stars so close you believe that reaching up and touching them is entirely possible. They are there shining when you enter, and there when you leave. Sometimes there’s a little snow on the ground making the night a little bit brighter. And the service is spectacular. The music is fabulous. The camaraderie is wonderful. You know you have been someplace special when the service is over.

And I have fabulous memories of previous services here at St. Matthias too. Our church is beautiful at Christmas Eve. Just take a moment and look around. And as you know, and have experienced so far this evening, the music is incredible.

You are wonderful people. It’s truly a pleasure to be with you this evening or any other time.

Now I know I have heard a sermon every time I have been in church on Christmas Eve. I can even tell you about some of the people I have heard speak. But honestly, I can’t remember a thing they said. And one more admission – I can’t remember much of what I have said either on those occasions when I was the preacher.

As I think about it, Christmas Eve isn’t a time for great oratory. It isn’t a time for important theological treatises. It’s a time for feeling, for experience, for the awareness of God and the Holy Spirit. It’s a time of beauty. Words almost get in the way other than the words we say together as a congregation within the service. Those words said together seem to rise in the air and become one with the presence of the almighty.

So, I am not going to take up any more of your time tonight. Instead, I am going to suggest we take a few minutes together and soak up our surroundings. Let’s make memories to be carried forward to the next Christmas Eve and the ones after that. God is with us and will be there too.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent: The Magnificat

December 22, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Luke 1:39-55

In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.

When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

for the Mighty One has done great things for me,

and holy is his name.

His mercy is for those who fear him

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

He has helped his servant Israel,

in remembrance of his mercy,

according to the promise he made to our ancestors,

to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

The gospel writer today gifts us with a brief story about genuine connection between two pregnant women of different generations. And in this connection we get to see God at work in a deeply personal way that also just happens to change the world. God starts the salvation story by choosing a poor young girl, her aged cousin, a kick of recognition and a song.

And we hear Mary’s story is in her song, the first Advent hymn. It tells us that she knows who God is and what God is about. She understands that her “yes” to God is a “yes” to everything that God has always been - one who scatters the self-centered and hard hearted, who takes away their power in favor of the lowly and fills up those who hunger for truth and justice. It tells of Mary’s expectations for what her son will accomplish – wondrous reversals in the world upsetting the status quo and inverting human structures and values. There is fire in Mary’s song.

It underlines that the focus of Christmas is on those who struggle with the realities of life. This story reminds many that, in the midst of their struggles, hope is born. Not in any way as a denial of their realities, but confirming them.

This story of Mary and Elizabeth reminds me of my relationship with my much older cousin. I have an unusual family situation: both of my parents were only children. So I have no aunts or uncles and no cousins of my own. My mother, though, had a cousin, Carolyn, who was 35 years older than I was. Carolyn and I had a similar story. Like me she was married many years and did not have children. In my 20’s and 30’s I had a big and rich circle of girlfriends. And in the natural course of life, each of them started to have children. As this happened, I was so happy for them. But it meant that they sought community with other new moms. Naturally they sought support and connection with other women who were also giving birth and raising children. So I saw my relationships with each of them diminish and fade away. And I felt those losses deeply. It was a source of grief.

But God in God’s mercy at that time helped me renew my connection with my mother’s cousin, Carolyn. We started to spend time together. She lived in Arizona and I would make the trip to see her. We discovered that we had interests in common that I didn’t share with anyone else or with my mother. Carolyn, who had been a widow for many years, referred to her friends as “the widow ladies.” She took care of them. Every time I visited we did something for them. We would visit them and run errands for them. Carolyn would say there’s someone who needs a plate and we would fix food and take it to them. She showed me that there was more than one way to engage in mothering.

What a tremendous, what a tremendous gift of connection. Like Elizabeth recognizing in Mary that she had a critical role in the salvation of the world, Carolyn helped me realize what I could do. I don’t remember either of us ever bursting into song but I think we both felt filled up and empowered after our visits. That’s why I love this powerful story of the connection and mutual support of these women.

Mary is remarkable because she knew what she was getting into because she was well acquainted with the God of Israel. There was no learning curve for her the way there was for me. Perhaps she was one of those courageous girls who craved knowledge about the kings, prophets, heroes and heroines of Judaism and pestered someone to teach her.

Would it surprise you to learn that Mary is not the first to sing this song? Perhaps it was among well known among the young women. It’s from the Book of 1 Samuel. It was sung by another pregnant woman, Hannah the mother of Samuel, the great priest and prophet. Hannah was unable to have a child for a very long time. She was a subordinate wife who endured incessant teasing by the wife who was able to bear children. But Hannah finally has a son. And when she does, she dedicates him to the temple to become a priest. She sings something very like the song we heard today from Mary. Hannah’s story and song emboldens Mary in hers.

We delight in singing about the mighty works of God this time of year. We find it easy and comforting to sing about God bringing peace and joy into the world. The Magnificat can be read as an invitation to sing along with Mary about our part in that divine action. This is what Jesus’ incarnation tells us. It’s what Mary is telling us: that God brings peace, and joy, and love, and hope to the world through us, by magnifying God’s grace and spirit through us.

“My soul magnifies the Lord,” can mean that through me, through you, through all of us, others can see God’s powerful actions of love more clearly. Through me and through you, through the way we choose to live our lives and practice our faith in the world people can catch a sustained glimpse of God’s justice and peace.

Through each of us, through our words and our actions, through all that we do, we magnify God. We magnify God’s being with our own bodies. We magnify God’s action with our own practices. We magnify God’s word with our words in the world. God is the one who acts. We magnify that action and give it hands and feet and hearts and minds. We collaborate with God in the divine actions of lifting up of the lowly.

A good question to think about in this week leading up to Christmas might be: how is the Lord magnified in me, in my soul? That’s a big question. It’s easy to think that it’s too big for any one of us to handle. But another important lesson the Magnificat teaches is that you are more than enough to contribute significantly to God’s work in the world. Whoever you are, whatever you have or haven’t done, you are enough. You are more than enough. The song of Mary reminds us of all of the scriptures, of all of the people where “who me?” is the vehicle for salvation.

Bethlehem is nothing special. Hannah was unimportant. Elizabeth was also thought to be barren, and felt disgraced. And Mary is merely an underage woman from the nondescript town of Nazareth engaged to a man we’re told is from the house of David. But that doesn’t really make Joseph all that special; a lot of people were distantly related to David.

All throughout scripture, whenever God wants to do something, it’s the seemingly insignificant and ordinary people that God uses. When God wants to create, God reaches into the mud. When God wants to raise up a king for Israel, God chooses the youngest of many sons, the one sent out to watch his father’s sheep. When God wants to redeem all of creation, God enters in fully and completely as one of the most vulnerable creatures on the planet, a baby.

And just like Mary and Hannah and Elizabeth, we are enough. Each of us is enough to magnify God. Imagine what would happen if we let God work. If we truly made room for God to be born in our hearts. If we let God magnify the good work that God has begun and is already doing in each of us. What if we joined together with others to magnify that work? Imagine the world that would be born from that.

The Christmas story is not an affirmation of those who have, and those who can afford more–and yet, ironically, need it less–but the story of a God who enters lives at their deepest vulnerability and need. Christ is not born in triumph, but in the ordinariness of life, into lives of fractured relationships, lives of deferred or destroyed dreams, lives of alienation and isolation.

As we prepare to welcome Christ once more into our hearts and our homes, may our souls magnify more and more the glory of God and our hearts exult in the goodness of God, this day and always. As Mary says may we also say “The Lord has done great things for me. Amen.

The Second Sunday of Advent: A Sign Pointing the Way

December 7, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Luke 3:1-6

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah,

John the Baptizer, fresco from Gračanica Monastery, Kosovo, c. 1235

"The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

'Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.

Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,

and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;

and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'"

You know I just love taking car trips. I suppose I am an introvert because for me there is nothing better for getting away from the stress than getting out on the open road. I love the seeing new things, stopping at gas stations (well maybe a little less than I used to considering the price of gas), finding a roadside diner that looks like it might be good. I like finding motels and talking with people I know I probably will never see again. I like the way the weather can be on the road. I like driving at night. In short I like everything there is about traveling by car. Ok maybe I don’t like the flat tires that occasionally show up. One of my dreams is to travel the country when I have the time and health to do it, God willing.

Speaking about traveling let me tell you a quick story about a group of monks who were traveling together after many years in their monastery. They had decided to take a trip for a vacation in Florida.

While traveling along a highway patrolman pulled them over. He knew immediately by their dress that they were monks.
Cop: "Brothers, this is a 65 MPH highway -- why are you going so slow?"
Monk: "Sir, I saw a lot of signs that said 22, not 65."
Cop: "Oh my goodness, that's not the speed limit, that's the name of the highway you're on!
Monk: Oh! Silly me! Thanks for letting me know. I'll be more careful.
At this point the cop looked in the backseat where the other monks were shaking and trembling.
Cop: Excuse me, brother, what's wrong with your friends back there? They're very pale and shaking terribly.
Monk: Oh, we just got off of highway 119.

About a dozen years ago we took a car trip of about four weeks. I loved every minute of it. Now how did we figure out where we were going each day? We used old fashioned roadmaps. We knew where our ultimate destinations were but we didn’t know exactly how we wanted to get there. We tried to avoid major interstates as much as possible so we looked each day for a route less traveled, usually a two-lane road. It’s amazing what you can see from a small highway as opposed to a massive interstate.

Well one of the things we saw were towns, and lots of churches in those towns. I have no idea how many churches we saw, but one thing I can attest to is that there are tons of churches in this country. Not only are there a lot of churches but there are all different types of churches, hundreds of denominations it seems.

As I traveled I got to wondering how it was possible for all these different churches to have so many different understandings of how to worship God and attain salvation. I expect each of them was sincere in their theological doctrines. I am equally sure every one of them felt that they were right in some important respect and that the rest of us were either wrong or misguided. Each of them was, metaphorically speaking, following their own roadmap. I have, since that trip, thought a lot about all those churches and all those ways of understanding the same Jesus and the same God.

The gospel we heard a bit ago is the beginning of Luke’s well documented account of John the Baptizer. John was a very famous figure and had an equally famous father. He was also completely unorthodox in his dress and lifestyle.

Now the life roadmap for John, since his father was a priest, was pretty well laid out for him even before he was born. The expectations were that John too would be a priest, and that he would conduct himself in an expected way.

But John shocked a lot of people and traveled down another highway. He wound up in the wilderness at the Jordan River, dressed in camel hair, with a leather belt around his waist. He ate bugs and honey and called everybody to account for their sins in a very old-fashioned, Hebrew Scriptures, prophetic way.

John wasn’t nice about it either. He called those in power the worst of all the sinners, and what he offered was an opportunity for redemption through baptism. His actions eventually landed him in prison and unfortunately his head on a platter.

Now John was famously often asked who he was. His answer was simple and let me paraphrase in travel terms. John said he was a sign, a sign sitting on the side of the road as we travel along. He was a sign that points to the coming Messiah. He was baptizing with water but the one coming was going to baptize with the Holy Spirit. The one coming was going to change the world. We are told that Jesus in a short time came to the Jordan for John to baptize him. I’m sure that was a huge day for John.

Now I return to all those churches I saw on my trip and all those different roadmaps to an understanding of Jesus Christ. I imagine all of them start in the same place. It works like this. John is pointing the way to Jesus Christ. When all of us arrive, and we get to know Jesus, we are introduced to his life. We learn he was smart, compassionate, and did some incredible things. The most incredible of course being his resurrection from the dead, insuring each of us eternal life.

We can argue about everything that happens in between starting with John and arriving at the cross and the resurrection all we want. And it’s fun to think about the things that happen along the way, and great fun to debate them with each other. But the basics remain the same. That’s why we all celebrate Christmas, and why we all celebrate Easter.

Folks it’s Advent. God is on the way. A special baby will soon be born.

The First Sunday of Advent: Waiting

November 29, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Luke 21:25-36

Jesus said, "There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

Then he told them a parable: "Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

"Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man."

1 Thessalonians 3:9-13

How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that we feel before our God because of you? Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you face to face and restore whatever is lacking in your faith.

Now may our God and Father himself and our Lord Jesus direct our way to you. And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.

This is the Sunday in the church year when we get to wish each other a Happy New Year! The church year begins with Advent. But the reading from Luke doesn’t seem very celebratory, does it. I have to admit that each year on this Sunday I get a little verklempt. Whether we’re in Year A, B or C of our lectionary – this year it’s C – the readings are foreboding and frightening. I want to hear about the first coming of Jesus with images of angels and mangers and a heavily pregnant Mary. But it’s about the second coming of Jesus.

We’re also treated to a reading from Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians. These early Christians also were concerned about Jesus coming again. A little bit of history about them: Paul formed them during his second missionary trip that included the northern part of Greece there Thessalonica was located in the later 40’s C.E. The church there consisted of members from pagan religions who had embraced the good news that Paul brought them. Like most early Christians, the Thessalonians had an understanding that followers of Jesus would all experience the return of Jesus during their earthly lives. That, of course, did not turn out to be the case. And they were distressed because some members of their community had died. What would happen to them, they wondered.

This letter, which is the first authentic letter of Paul to a church that we have, reassures them Jesus will come again, that they will be united with him and with all believers, all the saints who have died and who are already with him, one day. And Paul gives them guidance on what to do as they wait.

That’s the invitation that we’re offered in the readings today: to a holy process of watching and waiting through the season of Advent. As believers, we have a chance to wait a little differently, to look at beginnings and endings and beginnings again with a focus on the things of God in creation.

The author Sue Monk Kidd describes in her book “When the Heart Waits” this type of watching and waiting through the lens of creation. She was at crossroads in her life that she had not anticipated and did not welcome. Things that used to matter no longer did; things that had never mattered were suddenly critically important. Her life, she says, had curled up into a question mark.

So in her stress and impatience, she would walk, long walks through a dense forest. On one of these, she looked up as she passed beneath the branches of a dogwood tree. Her eyes somehow fell onto a strange kind of pod suspended from a twig just over her head. Looking closely she realized it was a chrysalis.

She touched the bottom tip of the tiny brown chrysalis. In that moment God seemed to speak to her about transformation. She understood crisis, change, all the myriad upheavals that blister the spirit and leave us groping for something to hold onto.

Sue took the branch of the dogwood with the chrysalis home with her and attached it to a tree in her yard. And she waited. Like Jesus pointing to the seasons of the fig tree, she survived and thrived through her own crisis by looking past her own chaotic life and aligning with the cycle of creation going on right outside her window. She expected a butterfly to emerge but was content to let it unfold, to watch and wait.

Life is full of endings and beginnings. There are crossroads moments for all of us when an accounting is demanded and transformed living is called for, regardless of when those beginnings and endings occur and regardless of how prepared we might or might not be for them.

Living with an attitude of expectancy that things will unfold for us just as God unfolds all of creation is the antidote to living buffeted by the emotions of changes. The time to live ever present is always now.

Time spent waiting is not stagnant time. It isn’t sit at home, watching the clock tick off the minutes. Paul’s message to the Thessalonian church is a reminder that all the time our faith looks outward. It’s never just about us. It’s not even just about our congregation. It is about seeing the city, the nation and the world as our community to nourish and inform the faith of all those around us. We are to decide about our faith for ourselves but not by ourselves. We are part of something much bigger. Anyone who participated in the Thanksgiving dinner preparation or distribution or received one of the 271 meals prepared by a member of this church on the patio a few days ago knows what that means.

Photo by **Torsten Dettlaff** from **Pexels**

This Advent season of waiting, consider the possibility of going into Christmas making an affirmative commitment that focus on what is good, and just and true. So that we, like Paul suggested to the Thessalonians, might restore whatever is lacking in our faith. I know you’re all familiar with Advent calendars. Each day in December leading up to Christmas there is a little door to open to a Bible verse and possibly a piece of chocolate.

What if we were to decide to wait with an Advent calendar of holy waiting and watching, something unique to each of us? You might set aside a can of food each day to donate it to a food bank on Christmas eve; or take the spare change out of your wallet or pocket each day and add it to a bank to donate to a charity that works for a cause that holds special meaning for you. Or write a note of encouragement each day to the nurses of a hospital, hospice or clinic that cares for COVID patients. You might even find a space in your garden to plant your own fig tree or a tree that will do well in this climate. Or keep a journal each day filling in the blank “Today, waiting feels …….” what?

On Christmas Eve, as you look back at the words you’ve chosen, or the tasks you’ve done, what will you have learned about watching and waiting? I pray we will all have experienced signs of God birthing new life in our midst and the Kingdom of God come near. Amen.

Christ the King Sunday: "What is Truth?"

November 22, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

John 18:33-37

Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?” Jesus answered, “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.” Pilate asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate asked him, “What is truth?”

Interior of Cathedral, Pécs, Hungary - Photo by Takkk

Welcome to Christ the King Sunday. Every year I wonder how Jesus would feel about that title. In any event we will be concentrating on the last line of the gospel read just a moment ago. Pilate asked this question. “What is truth?” It’s a question that rings as loudly today as it ever has, I suspect.

Let’s start off with a funny I haven’t thought about in quite a few years. A businessman was interviewing job applications for the position of manager for a large division. He quickly devised a test for choosing the most suitable candidate. He simply asked each applicant this question, “What is two and two?”

The first interviewee was a journalist. His answer was, “Twenty-two”.

The second was a social worker. She said, “I don't know the answer but I'm very glad that we are having the opportunity to discuss it.”

The third applicant was an engineer. He pulled out a slide rule, something you don’t see every day anymore, and came up with an answer, “somewhere between 3.999 and 4.001.”

Next came an attorney. He stated that “in the case of Jenkins vs. the Department of the Treasury, two plus two was proven to be four.”

Finally, the businessman interviewed an accountant. When he asked him what two and two was, the accountant got up from his chair, went over to the door, closed it, came back and sat down. Leaning across the desk, he said in a low voice, “How much do you want it to be?”

He got the job.

There was a time in my life that I thought the truth was the truth. That was a long time ago. Now I recognize the truth in one instance may not be the truth in another. In fact, I am now aware that people, especially many important people, recognize that the truth can be hard to pin down and use that fact for their own advancement. They purposely lie in order to achieve their own goals. Fomenting confusion about the truth, and promoting lies in its’ place, is now an often-accepted method of communication.

We live in a world in which up and down have meaning. That is true because we stand on the earth and are held down by gravity. Also, the sun progresses across the sky in a certain way so we can tell East from West, and since we can do that, we are also able to discern North from South. There is a lot of truth to be found in these simple understandings.

Imagine for a moment you are in space millions of miles from the earth. Suddenly up and down, along with the rest of the directions we count on make no sense. We would be completely disoriented. It would be much like being under water with no idea where up or down is, much less any other direction we might be familiar with.

Therefore, we realize that our position in the universe is entirely dependent on our relationship with other objects, objects we can count on. When we lose awareness of them, we lose ourselves. We become directionless. We have absolutely no idea what direction by which we should proceed.

It seems to me that modern life has become something like this. Many of us have metaphorically lost our ability to know our position in the universe of human contemplation and action. We are often confused about what is right and what is wrong. We have lost touch with the truth. Through the loss of long understood fundamental guideposts, and the insistence from others that we take up new understandings that they support as real, life has become filled with confusion.

As Pilate asked Jesus. “What is truth?”

As I think about how he asked the question I hear sarcasm. He was a politician. He was accustomed to what we are talking about. He knew the truth could be manipulated. I can see him rolling his eyes as he spoke. “What is truth?”

Jesus, just before Pilate’s question, said this to him. “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” Pilate’s question was in response to this statement. I often wonder if Pilate later in his life thought about what Jesus had said, and even more importantly remembered what his response had been. I hope he did.

Jesus said he testified to the truth. We understand this to mean the truth he and God shared about the universe, and more importantly about us, the people on this earth. So, specifically what did he mean? Let’s take a look at some of what Jesus spoke about and represented.

He talked about having a loving relationship with God and loving our neighbor as we love ourselves. He demonstrated compassion in his words and actions. He spoke about the need for common sense when interpreting the scriptures. He taught us about prayer and even gave us one as an example. He talked about servant leadership – if you want to be the greatest you must choose to be the least. He described the Kingdom of God and how it has come close to each of us. He opened the gates of eternal life.

Isn’t this the star we can use to find ourselves? Isn’t the life of Jesus Christ and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob the place to find where we are in the universe? To help us to move in a meaningful direction and avoid running in circles or following guideposts that just aren’t real? The Trinity provides us with a metaphorical up and down, an east, west, north, and south.

Our invitation is twofold I think today. First of all, let’s decide to spend time remembering what we have been taught in scripture about God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. What advice do they give us for living? What signposts do they provide for finding our way? They are the light in the darkness that enlightens our paths if we will but pay attention.

And second, we are invited to use what we already know and are continuing to learn to examine whether what others tell us is the truth. Does what they say match the truth found in the Kingdom of God? Is what we are being told loving, compassionate, and filled with the Holy Spirit? Does it fit within what we find in the commandments of the creator? Does it serve our neighbors or tear them apart? Does it bring us closer or push us away from each other?

This morning we know we have the tools to find truth. Let’s use them and encourage others to do the same.

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

November 16, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Mark 13:1-8

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”

Today’s gospel is full of powerful images. When we hear Jesus talk about buildings collapsing, terrible conflicts between nations, earthquakes and famines we clearly see those things in our minds eye. This must be especially true for those of you who experienced the Whittier Narrows earthquake. Such events instill fear in us so deep and overwhelming that they may obscure Jesus’ message: do not be alarmed, do not see them as something they are not.

Instead of giving the disciples the visual clues that they ask for, Jesus tells them how to conduct themselves in the middle or turmoil and persecution. Not only that, he meets their question with a better question: how can they go on when they are surrounded by fear, violence and indifference? They have a choice, of course: succumb to fear and be buffeted by the events of the day and false prophets. Or be witnesses, no matter what comes, to the hope of the gospel message.

I suppose it comes down to their deciding how they will spend their time. This is a good question for all of us especially when we are deluged by news and views that seem every bit as apocalyptic to us as this gospel language did to the disciples. How do you spend time? How will you live this day?

Each of the lessons we’ve heard today has something to do with the end of time, with a question about “when.” When will time as we know it end? What will that time look like? We can’t think about the time when things will come to pass without thinking about what we are to do in the meantime. Readings about the future call us to look at how we spend our time now while we are living in a world that keeps reminding us how short our time us, how fast time goes; a world where time management is an issue we seem to be obsessed with, where we look around and see problems so great that even if we had all the time in the world, we might never solve them.

Notice that Jesus doesn’t deny that crisis exists or that there are times that bring great suffering. But he calls them what they are – birthpangs of God’s power of transformation. Trusting that God is transforming the world – the larger world and our own more personal world – and that we are called to participate in God’s saving work in a fundamental piece of our lives as Christians. This is so very hard – growth, change, the coming of new ways of life are frightening processes. Being patient and hopeful requires one firm belief from us: hope. This morning, then, we are encouraged to hear how this gospel offers us hope. When we do, we will develop some very important skills, not just to cope, but to hope. Pastor Amy Richter offers some insight into this with what she calls “hoping skills.”

The first is to keep the Big Picture Perspective, the God’s eye view of human history. And the best source for this is Holy Scripture. Scripture is full of divine promises offering the ultimate in hope. The big picture is this: God is at work, bringing everything to completion according to God’s purposes. God does not willingly cause the suffering of any of God’s creatures, and it grieves the God who made us with the capacity for grief when anyone suffers or causes suffering. God can redeem anything. God is at work now, reaching out to us and offering us lives that are whole and holy, even when we can’t perceive it. So one hoping skill is to focus on the really big picture.

Another hoping skill is to get to know Holy Scripture. Scripture is how, along with tradition and reason, we know who God is, what promises God has made, how God works, what faithfulness looks like, especially as we know God in Jesus Christ. We can resist being deceived and have reason for hope if we know the scriptures, if we use them as the lens through which to view the world and as a guide for how we make our way in the world, just as we sang in our opening hymn today “radiance from the scripture’s page, a lantern to our footsteps shines on from age to age.” When Jesus is urging his disciples not to be led astray, he is reminding them to cling to what they know about him.

So this is not about being able to recall a few beloved verses but more about truly digging in and reflecting on the whole story of God’s people. When we know that the story ends with victory over death and that the way to victory was through self-giving love, we have reason to hope.

A third hoping skill is this: Expect trouble but expect Jesus Christ more. This passage in Mark from the early days of Christianity describes a reality that has been true ever since. Being faithful has meant persecution, poverty, estrangement and ostracism from family and friends and untold sacrifices. Not only is Christianity not a fast pass out of the problems that everyone encounters, it often means being open to even more difficulties. When we expect Christ more, we know that, as Paul said in his letter to the Romans, nothing shall separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Jesus wanted his disciples to know, his disciples then, and us, disciples today, that we can be alert, open, and watchful for all the signs of God at work in the world, and for what is not of God in the world. Expect trouble, but expect Christ more. Expect that we are not alone in the face of any trouble.

So how do we survive the devastation of an aggressive health challenges, the crashing down of a building, the aftermath of fires and floods that sweep away what we love? How do we survive the loss of innocence? How do we live in the midst of competing voices, all full of passionate intensity claiming that there are signs of the end of the age? Our focus must not be on signs but on the one who is to come, the one who enables us to look up after such devastation and claim God’s blessing with certainty.

Things may seem to have fallen apart. It may appear that craziness has been loosed into the world. But we are not alone. Christ is with us. We are promised the help of the Holy Spirit. How will we spend our time? Not just coping but hoping. Remember the really big picture. Get to know scripture. Expect trouble. Expect Jesus Christ more. Amen.

All Saints Sunday

November 9, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

John 11:32-44

Lazarus Come Forth - Harold Copping (Public Domain)

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

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

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

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

‘Nothing, I just helped him cry.’

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

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

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

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

It gets me every time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

November 4, 2021 Andrea Schmid

By Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Mark 12:28-34

One of the scribes came near and heard the Sadducees disputing with one another, and seeing that Jesus answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ —this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” After that no one dared to ask him any question.

The Scribe Stood to Tempt Jesus - James Tissot

In my Human Resources work I was involved with the hiring process. And I noticed that new employees after a while fell into one of two categories: either they would thrive from the first day and be productive for a significant period of time. Or they just never seemed to quite get in the flow of the company’s work process or get familiar with its products enough to have a successful outing as an employee. Their tenure ended much sooner that the first group and sometimes abruptly.

I began to wonder. With all things being equal as far as experience, training and skill set, what made the difference between those two types of employees. I believe there are a couple qualities that the successful employees had that the short term folks lacked.

One is curiosity. Were they curious? When confronted with a new task could they formulate questions about it, about what was needed and how it fit into the bigger picture? And would they keep asking questions of themselves and others? And the other quality was tenacity. Would they hang in there? Would they keep trying new things? Would they collaborate with others to figure out a way to get the task done? Would they see it through to the end? I found that an employee who could blend curiosity with tenacity was set up for success. They felt challenged and fulfilled in their work and the employer benefited from what they did.

I think the scribe in our gospel today has those qualities. It seems that there may have been several scribes present who heard the discussion between Jesus and the Sadducees. From the previous passages we know they were discussing a hypothetical about marriage with the Sadducees wielding questions like weapons. The scribe heard Jesus tell the Sadducees that their understanding of scripture and the power of God was all wrong.

Scribes were not secretaries and not just charged with writing things down. They were scholars of the Bible and Jewish tradition. Every village had at least one scribe. They devoted themselves to the study of the law and how it applied to daily life. Some of the scribes were also Pharisees. They were local Jewish leaders. Scribes had knowledge of the law and could draft legal documents – things like contracts for marriage, divorce, loans or the sale of land.

It’s not hard to imagine that the other scribes retreated into their comfort zone. They were not curious about what Jesus meant. And they were not driven to pursue anything beyond their already accomplished skill set that might disturb their status quo.

This scribe, listening to Jesus’ answers and realizing that Jesus answered the questions posed to him very well, asks: “Which commandment is the first of all?” What a perfect question and display of curiosity. Love is foundational for a life grounded in God.

We all know Jesus’ answer by heart. “Love the Lord your God with your whole heart, soul, mind and strength. Love your neighbor as yourself.” For the scribe, Jesus’ answer made simple what was once complex and made easy what once was heavy. One scholar has counted the commands in Torah: there are 365 prohibitions – things not to do – and 248 positive commands – things to do. Altogether that’s 613. Jesus compresses this into just 2. Simply 2. Simple does not mean easy, though. Life is a process of raising up priorities, the first one being devotion to God and to what God loves.

Only a God who is Complete Love would make loving completely the supreme command. God asks of us every bit we have – our emotions, our intellect, our mental and physical energy. Only by giving everything we have will we have a chance to shape our lives into their best possible forms. Then we are “not far from the Kingdom of God.” When we give God a mere fraction of ourselves, God becomes for us a mere fraction of what God might be for us. And even though knowledge of God’s love brings us closer to the Kingdom, entering the Kingdom requires more. Loving God requires loving others every chance we get. It is love made real that reveals the Kingdom.

The love that Jesus us talking about is agape love. Our Greek friends identified for us several types of love. But it is agape love that is the highest form of love there is. It is love lived. It is servant love, self-sacrificial love. It is caring concerned love given with no thought or expectation of it being returned to us. It is love given in unlikely times and places to the least loveable, the least known - without thought or consideration of whether we think they deserve love. And the only way to know agape love is to experience it.

In the pre-dawn hours one Saturday in an October before the pandemic, a group calling themselves Abraham’s builders gathered in a Smart & Final parking lot in San Diego. They were from churches and mosques and had gathered to travel into Mexico to build a house in a deeply impoverished neighborhood. As the sky went from darkness to the deep blue of dawn, they held hands and prayed to be agents of agape love.

For many people in the group this was their first build, the first time they had joined a Corazon community. Corazon matches families needing housing with materials to build the house and volunteers. Some bring building skills - professional carpenters and engineers – and some who bring enthusiasm and heart to serve. I was in the second group. In the parking lot, I met Dave, who was a skilled carpenter and had been on more builds than he could count over the last 10 years. “These are great,” he told me, “you’ll love it and you’ll be back.”

The lots were small so we created the walls and roof of the house somewhere nearby and assembled them on the site. A prep team, he told me, would already have poured the foundation. We’re there to put it all together - install windows and a door and hand over the keys to the new homeowners.

Our caravan of 15 cars arrived and we were directed “down there.” The road to the site of the new house was really more like a very wide path – only about 10 feet wide to start and winding downwards about 50 yards, gradually narrowing to a width of about 2 feet. This road was rough -- dirt, gravel and rocks – big ones – with crevices – deep ones. On the right side were some scruffy bushes. There was a definite tilt to the left and a drop off that would mean serious injury to anyone who stumbled over the side.

At the site there were huge piles of lumber, buckets of paint and supplies on a 12’ x 12’ cement slab floor and the Molina family -- 3 beaming people who, after 9 years of waiting and working on building homes for other families, would have their own home by sunset that day.

We carried all the building materials up to the top of the road, built sections of walls, carried them back and nailed them in place. Then we built the sections of the roof – a typical pitched roof in two sections. When it was done it was time to put the shingles on. There were a dozen people on the roof all hammering away – Muslim and Christian students working side by side, Mexican and American women touching up paint, carpenters hanging the front door – the first time this family would have a safe home with a door that would close and lock. It was long…

There’s not a single thing the Molina family could ever do for anyone on that build that day. And nothing is expected. But there was that sweet glimpse of the Kingdom of Heaven that we each got with a hug and smile from 8-year-old Sofia Molina. My new friend Dave was right. I did go back 2 more times before the pandemic. Because this was love for God and love for neighbor made real. God’s love taking root in the soul of each of us on that build that day.

When we practice love of neighbor by participating with God in mending a broken world, we know that the Kingdom is very near. A mended world is God’s dream. It is a world where all are fed and housed, with access to clean water, health care and education, where none are excluded, and young and old are cherished as God’s family endeavors to sustain the precious resources of this fragile earth. It isn’t easy being an agape saturated servant of God. It requires curiosity and tenacity from us. Like a scribe willing to question the past and be drawn to the simple commandments to love. Like 40 people willing to build a home for strangers. Like all of us willing always to love fully and unreservedly what God loves. Amen.

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

November 4, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carolyn Estrada

Mark 10:46-52

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

Christ Giving Sight to Bartimaeus - William Blake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Jesus, hearing, stands still.

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

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

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

What?

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

We have called.

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

Now what?

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

And we?

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

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

Do we come tentatively?

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

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

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

“What do you want me to do for you?”

Think of the possibilities!

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

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

“Let me see again,” Bartemaeus requests.

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

Go, your faith has made you well.

And we are told that indeed Bartemaeus could see again.

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

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

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

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

Bartemaeus is changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want me to do for you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We place our order – and God complies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus calls.

Bartemaeus comes.

Jesus calls.

We come.

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

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

“Call him to me,” Jesus says.

And Bartemaeus comes.

“Call them to me,” Jesus says.

Can we come?

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

Can we open ourselves to the transformation of that relationship?

For truly, Jesus wants us to be well.

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

Call them to me.

Let us leap from our places, and come!

Amen.

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

October 17, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

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

Mark 10:35-45

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do you want me to do for you?

Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost: First Steps

October 14, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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

Mark 10:17-31

As Jesus was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

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

I spent time recently with a friend whose father died two years ago. Her mother died long before that. Only recently has she been able to begin the painful work of sorting through the things in her parents’ home and put it on the market for sale. It was so difficult to make the decisions about what to keep and what to donate and what to sell. Everything she touched had a precious connecting memory of the great love her family had shared in this place. She didn’t even realize how strong her attachment was until she was faced with separation from the lifelong security of this house, this address, this front door key, this gossamer anchor to her wonderful childhood.

Taking steps into the future is often a difficult task – getting ready for the first day of school whether you’re a student or an educator; leaving a secure corporate job to start a business; attending a first AA meeting; calling a marriage counselor; these are transitions in our lives can rock our world.

We’ve all had to make some significant changes in the way we look at things over the last 18 months. We have looked at what we truly value, evaluated what is essential and what is not. I think we’ve all gained a deeper sense of the preciousness of all life. We may have even gone as far as the rich young man in the gospel today wondering about eternity and our place in it.

This young man comes to Jesus clearly aware that following rules, even the honored rules of the ancestors, does not satisfy him. He perceives that there is something more that transcends the boundaries of his existence. There’s no implication that he’s being deceitful when he says that he has followed the commandments that Jesus lists all his life. He sincerely wants to find the way to eternal life. His question has a passionate urgency about it. And Jesus heart goes out to him. Perhaps Jesus sees him as being among those who are blessed because they hunger and thirst after righteousness.

The next thing we hear is how very much Jesus loves him. And out of that great love, Jesus calls him to discipleship, to set aside all the things he has that confer status and power over others. Jesus asks him to learn how to be dependent like a child and receive as a gift the salvation that he supposed he could do something to earn.

“Sell everything you own” was a teaching for this particular man at this particular moment. Jesus’ instruction to him hits him so profoundly in his head and heart that it shocks him. We are told that he goes away in sorrow. Perhaps this well-meaning young man realized for the first time that his possessions possessed him.

Jesus does not tell the young man what following means. Like the other disciples – like all of us – he has to learn along the way. But he refuses to take that first crucial step in the journey, rejecting the opportunity to learn and grow. He could not bring himself to accept the invitation. He couldn’t make the transition out of ancient thinking. People in the first century often took wealth as a sign of God’s blessing. But once again Jesus teaches something radical: abundant life offered by God through Jesus Christ is not defined by riches. Many Christians in the first century church who heard Mark’s gospel had had to make a choice between faith and family, but had received a larger family in the community of faith which like this text combines the blessings of living as brothers and sisters in the family of God with the reality of persecution.

The disciples ask “who can be saved?” But the real question is “who can do the saving?” God and God alone. Here is the heart of the matter: eternal life does not come about by anything we do. It is not one bit connected to our being good or our hard work. We have it because God loves us, because God looks at us with love and desires relationship with us. There is nothing we can or must do to inherit salvation but to know that real riches are in the pursuit of a close relationship with God through Jesus Christ and do all that we can to prevent anything to come between us and God.

Does this seem impossible to believe? It’s natural to be skeptical because we live in a world thinks in terms of transactions. You give something and get something in return. But God’s economy is not ours. God’s economy transcends ours. This is Mark’s theme of the impossible possibility: what is impossible for human beings is possible with God. We hear this also from Paul: earning salvation is impossible for humans, even the best of us. But God, who creates out of nothing, justifies the ungodly and raises the dead, can save us when we are at our best and at our worst.

Giving away everything we have is not what Jesus is asking of any of us today. Please don’t feel like God wants you to go home and organize massive yard sale. That would be irresponsible and absurd. But we are called in this scripture to heighten our awareness of where we stand in the socioeconomics of our world. We are privileged people. I suspect that most of us would acknowledge that we have more material possessions than we really need. There’s nothing wrong with material possessions. Only the worship of them. Only when their importance distracts us from what is important to God which is always to build up the Kingdom of God by caring for and sharing with each other, for creation. It’s about living our lives with the same generosity towards others that God gives to us. It’s anything but business as usual.

I wonder what it would be like for each of us if we had the same opportunity as the young man in this gospel story. Can you picture yourself encountering Jesus as he’s walking along with his disciples? Could you courageously step out in front of him and kneel at his feet with the same concern and longing for salvation? What if you were to ask him what you might do so that you might have eternal life? What if you were to ask what you need to set aside?

I have no doubt that he would look at each of us with love. And then he would give us the most marvelous gift – an instruction just for each of us, a sort of 11th commandment to follow, a way that we can grow closer to God both now and forever, a very simple command to accept with childlike joy the gift of salvation freely given. Blessed are you in your hunger and thirst for righteousness.

We don’t know what happened to this young man the next day or the next week. We can hope that his spiritual longing overwhelmed his material attachment and that the end of the story that we heard was a new beginning for him. New life in the Kingdom always allows for first steps. We can hope that Jesus’ words prove to be a rich and strange irritant inside him like a grain of sand in an oyster that eventually produces a beautiful pearl. May it be so for each of us as well. Amen.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost: On Compassion

October 3, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by Fr. Bill Garrison

Mark 10:2-16

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

September 26, 2021 Andrea Schmid

by J.D. Neal

Mark 9:38-50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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