September 10th, 2023: Reflections on Matthew 18:15-20 (Conflict Resolution) by The Rev. Hartshorn Murphy

Jesus never intended to establish a church, despite the reading on August 27th about Peter being the Rock, the foundation, of that church.   The Jesus movement was a thoroughly Jewish reform movement!  And so it is highly unlikely that these words read today go back to Jesus.  But that being said, as always, the Spirit of the Lord is not missing here.

Conflict.  Conflict in an ancient middle east tribal culture was dangerous.  Easily, a disagreement could escalate into violence, which would often lead to a generations-long clan feud.  The Hebrew scriptures which mandate an “eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” (Exodus 21:23-26) sounds barbaric to our ears, but was actually quite progressive.  It established the principle of proportionality.

The conflict resolution scheme in today’s gospel sought to set out a process to minimize conflict within the church.  This is for us insiders.

When Matthew says “If a brother sins against you,” he’s speaking of an interpersonal offense of one member against another.  When that happens you should, as the aggrieved member, go to the other person in private.  Why?  Because the goal here is, in this oriental culture, to avoid losing face.

If that strategy fails, you are to go to your brother or sister member with 2-3 negotiators in a semi-private conversation.

Hebrew Law clearly mandates that it takes the testimony of at least 2 witnesses for their testimony to have standing.  Further, the penalty for bearing false witness – the 9th of the 10 Commandments – was severe.  Verse 19, “If two of you agree about anything”, the Greek word literally means “litigation”.  So this is serious stuff, for what they decide is legally binding.

But if that fails, let it be taken before the whole church community.  We’ve obviously moved from a private conversation, to a semi private one, to now a very public one.  Verse 18 reads “whatever you” – and here the word you is plural – “whatever [y’all] bind or loose, God ratifies.

In the text on August 27th, the power to loose or bind was given to Peter and in that context it meant to Discontinue or Retain Jewish cultic practices:  circumcision, Keeping the Sabbath, eating Kosher, etc.,  in Matthew’s Jewish Christian community in Damascus.

In this story, Loose or Bind means to settle a conflict between two members by absolution (Loosening) or condemnation (binding).  In the worst case scenario, the unrepentant members are to be excommunicated.

Today, to us, reared in a very individualistic culture, we can barely comprehend the seriousness of such an adjudication.  Let that person be to the community like a tax collector or a Gentile.  That is, to be an outsider – which is more evidence that this passage likely does not go back to Jesus, who treated tax collectors and Gentiles with compassion, right?

But to be an outcast in a group oriented culture was like a death.  It meant loss of a network and loss of community support.  It meant being accounted among the enemy.  This is grave business indeed.

The passage ends with the assurance that when in this process, when 2 are together privately or 2-3 more semi-privately, or the whole assembly is together, Jesus’s Spirit is there, and God will ratify the resolution of the conflict.  No appeal.

How many of you don’t mind confrontation, raise your hands…  Most of us try to avoid confrontation as much as possible.  The word itself means “with face.”  I well recall my son’s Godmother, who was a school psychologist, saying to me that it was important to literally get down on my son’s level, to look him in the eyes, when administering punishment.  To get in someone’s face is an intimate but also a deeply vulnerable act.

Over the years, as a Pastor, I have occasionally dreaded conversations I would just as soon avoid.  Times when things that needed saying or things frankly, I might not want to hear, hung heavy.  But in those fraught moments, this last verse always bubbled up – Jesus is here, here to enable these difficult conversations, to enable reconciliation if not agreement.

A story from my ministry scrapbook.  At a Vestry meeting back in 1998, our senior warden at the time challenged us to do something – I wish I could remember what.  Sarah, God rest her soul, was a deeply religious person; working part time and living simply in order to be free to serve as a volunteer chaplain at the hospital.

In response to Sarah’s bold challenge, Susan, the Vestry member who was elected to preserve the prerogatives of the choir, said “Well, that’s easy for you to say Mother Superior!”  Nervous twittering…  But something unanticipated:  Sarah said “Susan, why did you say that to me?”  Her response: “Oh, I was just kidding…”  “No, you weren’t & that really hurt my feelings & I want to know why you said that to me!”   Even angels on the head of a pin stopped dancing and were still.

            In the end, Sarah said “We don’t need to resolve this tonight, but we do need to because I can’t sit at this Vestry table with you with this between us.”  Susan was absent at the next Vestry meeting.  The Vestry sent a letter since phone calls weren’t being returned, asking Susan to come to the next Vestry meeting.  A public offense needed to be resolved publicly.  Susan would come late on Sundays, ascend to the choir loft and then depart before the last organ note sounded.  In the end, Susan sold her home and moved to San Diego.  To this day, I cling to the legacy of Sarah’s spiritual maturity and courage.

            The Rev. Denis Brunelle arrived at St. Luke’s Long Beach in the mid 1990’s.  He found a parish tradition of hosting the works of local artists along the aisles of the sanctuary.  One of these “shows” was strongly anti-war and a few members found the images disturbing.  They complained publicly including to the local press.  A difference of opinion within the church had become a scandal in the larger community.  Denis, who had been a Roman priest, was not a novice in dealing with conflict.  He tried persuasion but to no avail.  Later, he revoked the licenses of those who were eucharistic ministers, saying “Your ministry is an extension of my own and we are not at peace with one another at this time.  Please refrain from stirring up conflict in the congregation and community.”  That disciplining was but tossing gasoline on a grass fire.

            Finally, Denis excommunicated these people and our bishop supported this severe action, hoping this would lead to repentance and amendment of life.  Not so much.  What happened?

            The excommunicates threatened to sue the Rector for slander and defamation of character because the prayer book states that persons could be excommunicated who exhibit a “notoriously evil” life.  Denis hung in there and over time, the malcontents left.  Exhausted and stressed, Denis resigned but left behind a healthier parish for his successor.

            In both these stories, the goal of restoration and reconciliation was not met but, in both instances, the effort was righteous.

            Where was God in all of this?  I remember (because I’m an old man), the deep conflict over women’s ordination back in the 1970’s.  The moderates suggested tabling the whole issue indefinitely because, they said, God’s voice could not be heard over all the shouting.  A group of faculty from Nashotah House Seminary held a meeting at my parish in Milwaukee and then they issued a paper declaring that they saw no theological impediment to the ordination of women.  They further declared that in the midst of conflict and strife is precisely when the Holy Spirit speaks.  Read your Bibles…

            How has St. Matthias handled conflict in the past?  More importantly, what is your plan for handling it in the future?

            How can I be so confident that there will be strife and conflict?  Simple.  Look around.  You’re human.

                                                                                                            Amen.

September 17th, 2023: Reflections on Luke 15:11-32 (Prodigal Son) by The Rev. Hartshorn Murphy

Today’s gospel reading is called “The Parable of the Prodigal Son.” “Prodigal” is not a word we use much anymore. The word means wasteful or lavish. It’s a story of a landowner who has 2 sons. One day, the younger son asks his father for his share of the inheritance now. It’s a provocaOve request. It was literally saying, “ I wish you were dead so I could get my bequest now.” As the younger boy, he was, by Jewish law, enOtled to 1/3 of the land while his older brother-the firstborn- would receive 2/3rds. The father relents; allowing his young son to rejoice in his victories and suffer his own defeats in life. The land is divided, the boy sells his porOon and departs to a “far country”- Italy, Babylonia or North Africa were likely desOnaOons. There he squanders his money living lavishly. But when a famine comes upon the land, he’s in trouble. Desperate, he hires himself to a GenOle farmer and is given the job of caring for the swine. Near starvaOon, he is enOtled to a porOon of the slaughter but Jewish law forbids it and so he finds himself eaOng the tough carob pods he’s been feeding the pigs. One day, he comes to his senses. It’s almost as if he were standing beside himself and seeing how far he’s fallen: he can’t possibly fall any further. He resolves to go home. He’s willing to face the ridicule of his village and the wrath of his family of which he is unworthy. Perhaps he can make amends by repaying his father. Maybe, if he’s lucky, his father needs another hired hand. There were 3 levels of workers on large estates. The bondsmen were like slaves but by Jewish law, had so many enOtlements that they were almost family. Secondly, there were those who worked under the bondsmen. These servants were on the circumference of the family. Thirdly, and on the lowest level, were the hired laborers. Hired for the day, they could be dismissed without excuse or noOce- their lives were one of desperaOon. But maybe, just maybe; there’s a place among them for this wayward boy. Along the long miles home, the boy rehearses his confession over and over in his mind- but while sOll a long way off, his father sees him. How so? We have to assume that each day the father climbed the highest hill in the area and watched the road, in a sad hope that his dear son might come home. Holding on to hope, the father knew not where hos boy might be, or if he were sOll among the living, but sOll, he waits and watches. Seeing him through the morning haze, he runs to claim back his boy. In oriental cultures, elders don’t run. It’s not dignified to grab up your cloak and run. The boy begins to stammer out his well-rehearsed speech but his Dad interrupts him with his own tearful greeOng. He tells his servant, who has now caught up with his Master, “Go and get my best robe.” This garment was rarely worn as it was reserved for honored guests. The father places his signet ring on the boy’s finger as a sign that he has his father’s trust and authority. Finally, shoes- because only slaves go around barefoot. Returning home, he orders the calf barbequed-it’s enough to feed the whole village who are invited to rejoice with the Master at his son’s return. The elder boy comes in from the fields. He hears the music and asks the servant “What’s the deal?” When he hears the news, he’s furious. He confronts his father with his bi'er complaints. To bo'om line it here: he’s saying, “I’ve lived a virtuous life but I get no reward, but this son of yours”- noOce, not my brother, but this son of yours- “he’s wasted your money” (and he slanders his brother by saying the money was spent on prosOtutes). “This life of vice you celebrate.” Selfrighteous much? The father refuses to take sides between his boys. He says to his older son, “all I have is literally yours but your brother who was lost is found, he was dead but now he lives- come in and celebrate with us!” And boom. The story abruptly ends. Each listener has to make up their own conclusion. What will the older son do? What would you do? This parable was told against the Pharisees. The context, way back in verses 1-3 of this 15th chapter of Luke; see the Pharisees complaining that Jesus is sharing a meal with tax collectors and sinners; which was to confer on them honor and equal status to himself, a Rabbi. For the self-righteous Pharisees, God has no place for sinners. A popular folk proverb said, “There is joy before God when those who provoke him, perish from the world.” Now, they would acknowledge that God could be merciful but only following some heavy groveling. But that God not only accepts sinners but goes out of his way to seek them out, like a shepherd seeking a lost sheep or a rich landowner running to embrace a wanton son? Outrageous! But unOl they could come to rejoice in the restoraOon of sinners, they would themselves remain estranged from God and woefully ignorant of God’s true nature. And thus the parable should not be called the Prodigal Son but rather, “The Loving Father”. My father was born on Independence Day in 1908 in Selma, Alabama. His life, growing up a Black man in the Jim Crow south, was tough. His grandfather, a Jewish banker, had built a house, for his mula'o mistress, in the colored secOon of town. At the insOgaOon of the wife, the Klan terrorized my dad’s family and ulOmately firebombed the family home. My dad, his brother and sister, fled north. He “dealt” with his family trauma, as did his brother, with alcohol. It didn’t make him a bad father, but rather an emoOonally withdrawn one. And the fear which stalked his dreams was passed on, unbeknownst, to me. In 1997, I began a new ministry as Rector of St. AugusOne’s, Santa Monica. On my first Sunday, I stood up to preach and looking out at a packed church of white folk, I heard my father’s voice; “What are you doing? You don’t belong here. You’ve go'en beyond yourself. Get out now.” But then I heard another voice, saying “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine.” (Isa 43:1-4) Whatever failures or disappointments you have come through in your family. Whatever abuse or neglect. From fathers or mothers who demanded too much or expected too li'le. Whatever brokenness is yours, I invite you to see with me the father in today’s story as he runs, with tears streaming down his face, stumbling over the uneven road, to claim back his child - for in this story, you are that child, I am that child - who has far too olen “squandered the inheritance of the saints and wandered far in a land that is waste.” (BCP pg. 450) But our God ever stands, paOently waiOng and watching for our coming home. For “God loves each of us as if there were only one of us.”

St. Augustine of Hippo

September 3rd, 2023: Reflections on Romans 12:9-21 and Matthew 16:21-28 by The Rev. Vienna McCarthy

A good friend looks out for you.

A good friend will tell you if you’re about to make a mistake, even if it might upset you.

A good friend will try to stop you from getting hurt.

Right?

On the whole if we were to tell a friend of ours to look after themselves, that they probably shouldn’t put themselves in harm’s way, and they responded by calling us Satan, we might be a little taken aback.

Peter probably did feel a little confused. He’s *literally just* recognised Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of God. And he’s *literally just* been told by Jesus that he is going to be the rock, the foundation, for the community of Christians that will be called the Church. He probably feels a little like our psalmist this morning…

Then Jesus starts talking about how he’s going to have to die, and Peter thinks that no, surely, the Son of God doesn’t *have* to die, he doesn’t *have* to do *anything* he doesn’t want to do. He tries to talk him out of it, to protect him.

And Jesus calls him *Satan*.

Now it sounds harsh, but Jesus is actually calling us back to that encounter with Satan in the wilderness at the beginning of his ministry. In those forty days of lonely fasting Satan tempted Jesus, three times, inviting him to embrace his divine nature and eliminate his suffering. Three times, Jesus refused to comply.

Peter’s motivations on this occasion are presumably very different, but it’s fascinating that in seeing who Jesus is, in recognising him as the Son of God, both Peter and Satan immediately jump to saying basically the same thing.

If Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, why not  just … make the bad things go away?

But even though Peter’s coming from a place of friendship, and hope in what Jesus as he Messiah is going to achieve, and probably also a great degree of affection for Jesus — despite all that, Jesus says that he is nevertheless a stumbling block. Because Peter is tempting Jesus to act out of *self-preservation*, to save his own life and not have to suffer death.

Elsewhere in the Gospels we get these hints that Jesus is, actually, tempted to escape the suffering he knows he’s going to have to face. In the wilderness at the beginning of his ministry, but also right at the end, in Jerusalem, when he’s praying alone in the garden of Gethsemane. But in both cases Jesus ultimately knows that he *can’t* act out of fear and self-preservation.

Not because he’s not *able* to. Of *course* he could have prevented himself from being arrested, put on trial, crucified. But despite the temptation, he didn’t. He voluntarily went to his death.

Because he knew he had to. That it was necessary.

We’ll get onto what that might mean in a second. But what’s crucial to notice is that on this occasion, Jesus makes it clear that there’s something about his sacrifice that his followers are not just supposed to *allow* — they’re also supposed to *emulate* it. To take up their own crosses. Because “those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for ((Jesus’s)) sake will find it.”

If you try to save your life, you won’t be able to — you will lose it. But if you let go, let go of that instinct to put yourself first and protect yourself, then you may well save your life after all.

What Jesus says here — to Peter but also to us, listening in — it goes against all our instincts. Our nature is to look after ourselves, and keep our loved ones out of harm’s way. We probably feel like these are good instincts, so Jesus’s words to us are pretty shocking if we’re actually paying attention.  Because he says that if we live to the fullest degree that our instincts tell us to – if we live in fear, focusing first and foremost on protect ourselves and not looking out for others – if we live like that, Jesus says we won’t end up saving our lives. In fact we’ll *lose* them.

Lose them to fearful self-preservation.

Now Jesus knew that if he went to Jerusalem to preach God’s message of unconditional love and reconciliation, the religious leaders and the political authorities *would* kill him. His death wasn’t some arbitrary method cooked up to appease a wrathful father in heaven. No — his death was necessary at least in part because it was inevitable. But Jesus also trusted that through this death, God would save his life — and not just *his* life, but the whole world. He trusted that although it would look like he had lost his life, God would save it, would raise him from the dead, establishing his victory over death forever.

We’re talking about things that theologians and prayerful people have argued over for millennia — the question of why Jesus had to die, and what exactly his death achieved, and how it all came to pass. There aren’t any easy explanations that will clear it all up for us — if there were, I’m sure Jesus would have told Peter himself, instead of offering him a riddle.

I won’t go into all of that now — if you’re sticking around after the service we can have a chat about it over ice cream…

But the central thing to hold onto from his words today, I think, is this. Because Jesus was willing to act not out of fear, but to act out of love — not out of self-preservation, but self-offering  — *because* of that, he gained *everything*.

That’s one of the paradoxes at the heart of the Christian faith, and it’s the paradox we’re called to put at the heart of the Christian life. To truly live, Jesus says, we have to deny ourselves – take up our own cross, be willing to make sacrifices, and follow Jesus in the way of love.

Jesus was talking about his own literal cross, his own literal death. For us today, the broader invitation we have from Jesus here is to live — but to live in a different way. In fact, it’s the way that Paul described in our reading from Romans this morning. If you want to know what it would look like to take up your cross and follow Jesus every day then take your bulletin home and work through that Romans reading again slowly.

Paul says:

Be kind to the people who make your life difficult.

Don’t just focus on how *you’re* feeling, but have empathy for other people.

Don’t think you’re better than anyone – spend time with people who maybe won’t make you look good.

Above all, forgive the people who wrong you. Give up your claim to being in the right. 

Live in peace with all.

All of these things Paul talks about – they’re about relinquishing the need for self-preservation, the need for control, to be respected, to be safe. They’re what happens when we live out of love instead of fear.

Now whoever or whatever you think Satan is, it seems to me that there is an evil force in this world that don’t want us to live this way. More and more we’re encouraged to hate the people who hate us, to ignore the cries of people who suffer because they probably deserve it, to fear the outsiders who take our security and our jobs, to reject the people who betray weakness, to cut the people who disagree with us out of our lives. Living out of fear means building ourselves up at the expense of others, cutting ourselves off *from* others, and there are so many voices in our world that are calling us to live this way.

If we want to take up Jesus’s call to follow him, we can’t be swept along by it. By the fear and the need to protect ourselves. But we also don’t need to be afraid. Because by Jesus’s cross, by his journey from death to life, he’s shown us that what the world sees as weakness, God will turn to strength. That it’s in losing our lives that we’ll discover we’ve found them.  

If we follow Jesus, if we follow in his Way, what he offers us is abundant life. Life without the exhausting pursuit of self-preservation. When we live out of love instead of fear, we won’t need to protect ourselves.  Because in the cross of Jesus, God is with us, wherever our path takes us. In this life and in the next.

August 27th, 2023: Reflections on Romans 12:1-8 and Matthew 16:13-20 by The Rev. Vienna McCarthy

The question of who we say we are — or rather, finding out how to answer that question — is perhaps our culture”s foundational concern.

When we’re kids, we wonder what we’ll grow up to be. We search, through school and college and work, searching for a role that will define us, and who we are.

And we look to relationships, with a partner, with parents, with children, and the roles we fulfil in all of those places.

Who do you say that you are? What comes to mind if you’re introducing yourself, or describing yourself? Your work, past or present? Your family roles? Your culture, or your ancestors’ cultures? The things you love to do? The people you feel most at home with? The church you belong to, even?

Which of those things makes you who you truly are?

The Gospel this week presents us with a different question.

Not, who do I say that I am, but who do *you* say that I am?

And who do I say that *you* are?

Identity, and role, and relationship — all of those things are important. But here in this exchange between Peter and Jesus, we have an example given to us, of those definitions not coming from our own self-identification, but by seeing and being seen by someone *outside* of ourselves.

Peter goes first. He is asked directly by Jesus — “who do you say that I am?” At this point in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus and his disciples have been travelling through a while, moving through different cities, with Jesus teaching and healing and telling parables and announcing the imminent reign of God. This is what Peter has seen.

Jesus hasn’t been proclaiming his identity explicitly — *telling* people who he is. But in all those things he’s been *doing*, he’s been revealing who he truly is, for those who have eyes to see.

And so despite not having any evidence for Jesus’s messianic identity, Peter is able to see Jesus for who he is. Flesh and blood, physical realities, haven’t convinced him — Jesus says that Peter sees a spiritual reality in Jesus, the man he calls teacher. Despite all the times Peter has misunderstood, or got it wrong, he is able to truly see Jesus in that moment.

And then notice what Jesus does in response. Jesus sees *him*. He sees Peter. Not for the person he is in this moment — a small-town fisherman who left everything behind to travel with Jesus — but for the person he will become. Greater than anything he probably believes he is capable of. The rock, the foundation, upon which Jesus will build his church. His community. His living body.

In fact the name Peter, which Jesus gave to him the moment Peter began to follow him, means originally “rock”. There is a sense that Jesus has *always* known this about Peter. That the moment he cast his eyes on him, he saw his true self, and gave him this name, a name that hinted at what he was going to become for the early group of Christians trying to live and grow as a brand new church.

But it’s in *this key moment* in Jesus’s ministry, at a point when he is still keeping his true identity hidden from many of the people he’s ministering to, that Jesus and Peter model for us this interchange, this almost *choreography*. Seeing Jesus, being seen by Jesus.

They model for us what it looks like not to define ourselves as individuals, but to define ourselves through community with others. Discovering who we truly are in allowing ourselves to be seen by another person. And not just seen, but known. Recognised. “Who do you say that I am?” And then, seeing and knowing and recognising the other, in turn.

Peter and Jesus are showing us an example of how we can be with one another, like Paul describes in our epistle reading. Paying attention to the gifts we see in others, and naming them, and encouraging them. But in this exchange in our Gospel reading today, they’re also showing us, more fundamentally, how we know and are known by God.

It can be scary to place our identity in the hands of another. Especially if we have experiences of not being seen for who we really are — if we’ve been excluded, or been the victims of prejudice. Many of us have these experiences in different ways. In the Church of England, I’ve had colleagues who didn’t believe I could be a priest because of my gender — they saw in my a limitation I didn’t see in myself, a limitation I didn’t believe Jesus saw in me either. It’s painful, to feel like you’re not being seen for who you truly are.

Perhaps this is why Jesus invites Peter to go first. Who does Peter say that Jesus is? Who does he see when he looks at him? He invites Peter to start the exchange.

Because who Peter sees is the Messiah. The one the Jewish people were all waiting for, the one whose salvation has been proclaimed by prophets and psalmists. To see Jesus for who he is, for Peter, is seeing someone who is worthy of our trust, someone who cares for those who are laid low, who brings joy and gladness to those who suffer.

I wonder who you say Jesus is? Who do you see when you look at him?

When I look at Jesus, I see someone who trusted women with some of the biggest responsibilities of all. From his mother who directed him to begin his miracles at the Wedding at Cana, to the Samaritan woman who evangelised to her whole hometown, to Mary Magdalene charged with bringing the first announcement of his resurrection, Jesus constantly defied his culture’s attempts to overlook women, to imagine them as lesser agents than men.

He treated all people with the same unconditional love, the same patience, the same understanding. I trust him.

But I wonder who *you* say Jesus is?

Who is it that you follow, and worship?

Because all of us are invited to join this dance, this back and forth, of discovering or remembering who Jesus is, and through this gaining the courage to allow ourselves to be seen by him in turn. And not just seen, but called to become the people God sees us becoming, just like Peter.

This series of readings we’re in the middle of, from Matthew’s Gospel — you might have noticed that Peter features quite often. And you’ll probably also notice preachers like me saying again and again that he is flawed, or immature, or confused. I think a few weeks ago I called him ‘puppy-like’! I say this about Peter all the time because it’s *so important* that the first followers of Jesus weren’t chosen because they were amazing people, clever or well-behaved or devout. They were the opposite of that. In fact after doing well in today’s reading, it really doesn’t long for Peter to mess up again.

But Jesus sees who he will become for that really church, the first Christian community finding their footing after the revolution that was his resurrection from the grave. Jesus sees who Peter for who he *truly* is.

We can be afraid of others defining us because we are afraid of being made *less* than who we are. Confined, or misunderstood, or ignored.

But in Jesus God always sees the *whole* of who we are. Not defining us by our achievements *or* our faults. Seeing us only as divine children of our heavenly creator, who loves us and lives in us.

When we know this deep within ourselves, we can live as a community who sees one another through that lens, that perspective. This is what the Church is. And *as* the Church we’re called to go out and see the whole world through the very same lens.

Which we can only do, probably, with the confidence that comes from knowing that we are children of God, beheld always by that divine compassion.

And we can only do *that*, if we turn to look at Jesus, and meet his gaze.

So who do you say that he is?

Who is Jesus to you?

August 13th, 2023: Reflections on 1 Kings 19:9-18 and Matthew 14:22-33 by The Rev. Vienna McCarthy

How do you treat someone you love who makes a mistake?

Three weeks ago, Stephen and I decided to foster a dog from the animal shelter. We came home with a nine-month-old puppy, Juniper, who was found, microchipped but alone, wandering out on the streets. They think she was abandoned.

Now all puppies have to learn how to socialise well, and be safe with people and other creatures. But for Juniper this is sometimes especially difficult. As a stray she probably had to defend herself, and fight for her food. She’s not used to having a safe home, and people who won’t leave her to fend for herself.

Sometimes she makes mistakes. Sometimes she doesn’t do what we expect her to do, or what we need her to do. She reacts to a barking dog who only wants to play, or tries to tug something out of our hands.

And in those moments, we have to decide — how do we respond? Does this kind of behaviour deserve punishment? Or does it deserve compassion? Correction, maybe, but love?

Now, loving a rescue puppy is one thing. There are harder tests out there. And we get an example of that in our reading from the Hebrew Bible this morning, in the prophet Elijah.

When we meet Elijah, he’s overwhelmed and tired. He has a job given to him by God — to take care of the people and help them follow God’s laws. But he’s feeling burnt out. No matter how much he tries, the people of God aren’t doing what they need to do. They’re turning to idols instead of depending only on God. And it sounds like Elijah’s just… done.

So he runs away to this cave, which is where we meet him. At Mount Horeb. And he is ready to make his complaint to God.

Now if Mount Horeb sounds familiar to you — it may not, but if it does — it’s because it’s one name for the place where God speaks to Moses and gives him the Ten Commandments, which the Israelites are now struggling to follow.

Elijah is going back to where it all began with Moses. Or at least, he’s going back to a nearby cave.

And after God asks what he’s doing there, God invites Elijah to step into the place of Moses, on top of the mountain.

And as God does this Elijah has an experience of God that is quite different to the burning bush and the pillar of smoke that Moses encountered.

There is wind, and a great earthquake, and a fire, but God’s presence isn’t in any of those things.

God’s presence is in the silence that follows. Sheer silence.

Or some translations say a “still, small voice”.

Elijah is angry at the Israelites. Perhaps he expects God to be angry too, to send punishment or plagues. And certainly, God in this story decides to take action. But his response isn’t out of fiery, earth-shaking anger. It’s something quite different.

Some context. The first book of Kings, where this story comes from, was written a while*after* these events  — when the Israelites had been exiled by the Babylonians, sent out from the land God had gifted to them.

You could say it was written when the Israelites were in a kind of storm.

And we know from the Scriptures that the Israelite people were asking themselves: how could this have happened? How could God have allowed it, when God had promised them through Abraham and Moses to give them this land forever, and take care of them?

And this story of Elijah in the cave — this is a kind of explanation given for the predicament they find themselves in. According to Elijah, this has all happened because the Israelites have messed up, turned away from the promises they made to God.

In the language of the Bible, they’re “not righteous”. Being “righteous” means being right with God, keeping the promises and following the laws. And they’re not doing that.

But here’s the thing. In this story, God announces that he’s doing a new thing.

God may not, right now, be in the earth-shaking forces of nature that will force their enemies to flee, as the Egyptians fled after the parting of the seas. God is not driving the Babylonians out by the sword. Instead, God is with his people in the small voice, in the silence. But out of that, God will make things right.

The Israelites will not, ultimately, be abandoned to the consequences of their actions. Because they are God’s beloved people. He will stay with them.

This is a story we get repeated throughout the Scriptures — a cycle of promise, followed by failure, followed by forgiveness. It happens in big ways and small ways. And if we fast forward to the Gospel reading we find it again, in the middle of another storm with the disciples.

When Jesus comes towards them, walking on the surface of the waves in the middle of the storm, he says to them:

“Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

…except actually, he doesn’t say exactly that.

In the Greek he says “Take heart, I AM”. Just the words I AM — ego eimi. This little phrase is used in the Hebrew Bible to allude to the name of God. God is the one “who is”.

So when Jesus says take heart, ego eimi — take heart, I AM — he is announcing the presence of God. Not in the storm, in the power of the wind and the waves, but in him. In Jesus, in the still and small voice in the midst of the storm.

And the disciples are still afraid, but it’s Peter who in that toddler-like way of his bounds to the side of the boat and asks if Jesus will command *him* to walk on water.

He is ready to hear what Jesus wants him to do. And so when Jesus says “come”, he leaps out of the boat and begins to walk.

And then as is often the case with Peter and the other disciples, when the reality of the situation dawns on him, he gets cold feet. Or in this case, wet feet. He starts to get afraid. And he starts to sink.

But even though Peter’s struggling not to be afraid, struggling to follow the command Jesus made, Jesus reaches out to help him. Of course he does.

In Jesus, God has commanded Peter to do a thing. “Come,” he said. But Peter, because he is human and makes mistakes — Peter has utterly *failed* to do the thing. But he is still rescued by Jesus, and kept safe.

*This* is the pattern we see repeated throughout the stories in the Scriptures. Time and time again we see that the love that God has for all of God’s people isn’t only given in return for playing by the rules.

The Israelites, the religious authorities, the early followers of Jesus — they all fear that God’s love is conditional, and transactional, given only to those who do what God wants them to do.

But these stories all reiterate the foundational truth, that in Jesus God’s love is *never* conditional on that. *Never* withdrawn because of our guilt, or our weakness.

As Paul says, quoting the Hebrew prophet Joel: “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.”

God does have a high calling for us — to live in love, following the way of Jesus. But we don’t become righteous, or *right with God*, by doing everything that’s expected of us perfectly. We are right with God because we, and the whole world, are beloved by Christ.

We make mistakes, but there is nothing we need to do to absolve our guilt and appease God. It’s all taken care of. We are loved.

Does that feel real to you? I hope it does. Sometimes the reality of the grace of God is hard for us to hold onto, especially if like our puppy Juniper we’ve been conditioned to see the world a different way. We can keep on coming back to the idea that surely — *surely* — there is something we need to do in order for God to accept us. There are rules we need to follow, or else we’re out.

But this is the radical love of God in Jesus. It’s a love that the Scriptures make clear to us that God has for the whole world.

It’s a love that accepts us first, and holds out a hand to catch us in the water, and pulls us back to safety.

It’s the still, small voice of Jesus, quieting the storm.

June 18th, 2023: Matthew 9:35 by Reverand Hartshorn Murphy

Jesus said to his disciples: The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” The harvest Jesus refers to is that time -coming soon- when the Lord of the harvest will intervene in human history to establish his kingdom on earth. God’s people are scattered. They are leaderless and burdened. They are like sheep without a shepherd. Our task is to gather the lost sheep of Israel.

          In Hebrew, the word is “amhaarez” which means “the people of the land.”  The Pharisees dismissed them as too ignorant to understand The Law, much less to rightly keep it. These peasant people, to Jesus, were ripened grain, a vast harvest withering in the field.

          So Jesus gathers the 12 disciples to begin this work. In those days, disciples were required to learn their rabbi’s Mishnah, his public teaching. The word means “learning by rote repetition”. Not just the words, but which words were emphasized, the tone of voice and the inflection, the physical stance. To encounter a disciple years after his master’s death, was to in fact, encounter the master himself. In addition, Jesus’ disciples had learned Jesus Kabbalah-his prayer practice- a deep contemplation in which the practitioners experienced more deeply the presence of God.

          I mention Jesus’ Mishnah and Kabbalah because without that understanding, Jesus’ commission to his closest disciples would seem unfeasible. They are to preach good news and to do what Jesus does: cure the sick, cleanse the lepers, which is not Hansen’s disease, but any scaly, flaky skin condition- cast out demons and raise the dead. We can’t say with any certainty whether the raising of the dead is to be understood literally or metaphorically. We today say that someone was “dead” but has “Come alive” and perhaps we should understand this directive as such.  We simply can not know. But these acts of healing and exorcism were not an ends but a means. They were signs. Signs are things which point beyond themselves.

          If any of you have renewed your driver’s license lately, in preparation you likely studied the driver’s handbook. One of the sample questions asks you to identify what a sign means by its shape, the words have been omitted. If you came to an intersection and saw that red octagonal metal sign covered with graffiti, you have a pretty good idea of what to do. And if you ignore that sign and an officer pulls you over, your graffiti defense won’t work. The sign has a meaning beyond the word printed on it.

          Curing the sick, casting out evil spirits and bringing people out of the darkness of despair to a place of hope-like coming alive again-for Jesus and his followers, these were signs which confirmed the message. The Kingdom of God is coming into the world.

          So what would be the nature of this New Age? Jewish mythology believed that the Age of the Messiah would bring an end to hunger as crop yields would be phenomenal- 30 fold, 60 fold, a hundred fold as Jesus proclaims in one of his stories (Mark 4:20). Fruit bearing trees would bear fruit year round. Each Jewish man would sit under his own fig tree, studying the Torah all day and munching on fresh figs. Women, you would bear a child each year- but without pain such that they could return to the fields immediately after giving birth. A pretty male centered fantasy to be sure. But wait! That’s not all…

          The other nations of the earth would stream to Mt. Zion. Many Gentiles would convert but those who did not would be enslaved to serve the Jews or resisting, would be slaughtered. Jerusalem, not Rome, would be the center of the earth.

          Jewish martyrs would be raised from the dead and live again. In Ezekiel 37:1-10 we find the story of the valley of dry bones in which bones come forth from their graves and sinews, flesh and breath comes to them. Carefully re-read Matthew’s gospel when you can. In it, when Jesus dies, the graves of the righteous dead are opened and the formerly dead stroll about the streets of Jerusalem (Matt. 27:51-53).

          The New Age is breaking in.

          This nationalistic hope explains one of the distressing features of this reading. The disciples are to go nowhere among the Gentiles or the Samaritans. They are sent only to the lost house of Israel.

          The gospel writers composed their narratives sometime between 40-60 years after Jesus’ death and resurrection. They were at pains to explain how a Jewish reform movement was becoming more and more a Gentile church. And so we see the directive “go no where among the Gentiles” reflecting the earthly Jesus and then at the end of Matthew, the directive of The Risen Christ. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19)

          And how were they to go?

They were to go without any money in their belts, no bags of food, no spare underwear, no shoes and no staffs to defend themselves. They would go in vulnerability right down to the souls of their bare feet.  They were to go 2x2 against the solidarity of the roads. And they were to depend on the kindness of strangers. On entering a house they were to say, “Peace be to this house” and if the householder received them, they were to stay in that house and not move about seeking better accommodations. And they were to eat whatever was put before them whether kosher or not. But if you are not welcomed, you are to “shake the dust from your feet.” What’s that all about?

          It was the custom that when Jews had cause to enter Gentile territory, prior to crossing the boundaries into the Holy Land, they would “shake the Gentile dust” from their feet so as not to contaminate the land with heathen soil. To “shake the dust” publically from a Hebrew home was to declare that home “not Israel”. It would be a testimony against them on the day of judgment. God’s condemnation will be worse for that house then it was for Sodom and Gomorrah; towns which were proverbial warnings of God’s judgment. Don’t get hung up, just move on.

          They themselves had received from Jesus without having to pay therefore they were not to seek payment from anyone, as other healers did when they cured illness or freed those beset by evil. Their short missionary journeys were to be guided and enabled by God’s free grace alone.

          In a former life, I served our diocese as Archdeacon for congregational development. One of the 40 churches I supervised was St. Christopher’s in Trona. (Raise your hand if you know where Trona is?) Trona is near Death Valley. It was a company town. When founded, plots of land were offered free to any denomination willing to build. In the later 1980’s I went to make a visitation. I stopped in the only diner for breakfast and asked my waitress, “Can you tell me where St. Christopher’s church is?” She responded, “St. Christopher’s? hmm- I don’t know, but I’ve only been here about 10 years.” Let’s ask Mabel; she’s been here for 35 years.”  “Hey, Mabel, where’s St. Christopher’s church?” A long pause. A wrinkled brow, “Gee, I never heard of it- but it’s probably over that way” she said pointing. St. Christopher’s had been there from the very establishment of the town- but remained somehow incognito for its entire existence. No missionaries had apparently gone beyond its door to proclaim- well, anything. Trona has gone from a population, at its height of 7,000 to about 87 today. The town is dying, St. Christopher’s had long ago effectively died.

          Churches are to be an oasis of the Kingdom. As the Free Church of Berkley called it in the 1960’s “ a Liberated Zone.” The toughest question any church must ask itself: “If we were not here, would anyone even notice.”

June 11th, 2023: Ruminations on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26 by Reverend Hartshorn Murphy

We gather week by week, in this place, in order to break things. We break the bread so that we may share in the body of Christ. We break open the scriptures, which come to us from a time and a place so different than our own. And sustained by word and sacrament, we seek to break open our imaginations so that we might walk through life as Christ’s ambassadors. To be a disciple of Christ is to be transformed by God’s grace so that we might in turn work with the Spirit to transform the world, so that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

            Today’s reading from Matthew, at first glance, seems to be three unrelated incidents from Jesus’ work in the Galilee.  This morning, I’d like to briefly reflect on each one but then ask what theme, what learning, comes from them.

            The first story is the call to Matthew. Matthew was a tax collector. The title here is misleading, a better description would be “toll collector”.  Those who did this work bid for the job and paid Rome the tax upfront and then sought to recoup their money and hopefully make a profit. The toll was levied on crossings--goods entering, leaving or being transported across a district. Those using bridges, entering through gates or using a boat landing. If you were using a cart to carry goods, the toll collector would tax you for how many wheels were on your wagon.

            The tax man was considered to be a sinner because the money collected facilitated the Roman occupation of the Jewish homeland.

            And yet, here we see Jesus sharing table fellowship with Matthew and other toll collectors and with “sinners”, which meant the peasants who were lax in observing the minutiae of Jewish law. And so the Pharisees bitterly criticize Rabbi Jesus. To share a meal with those outside the law was to be identified with them and thus be unclean yourself.

            In response, Jesus quotes a proverb “Those who are well have no need of a physician but those who are sick” and then from Hosea 6:6: “God desires mercy not sacrifice.”

            Now to be clear, the rabbis of Jesus’ time would not criticize people for caring for the poor, the outcasts and sinners. But they welcomed repentant sinners.

            The significance of this story is that Jesus seeks out those who were considered lost. We are reminded of the story of the shepherd who leaves 99 of his sheep safely in the sheepfold and goes seeking the one who was lost and rejoicing, carries it home to safety.

            The second story is of a woman who had been suffering from a bleeding disorder for 12 years. Considered ritually unclean- the flow of blood had to be ended for 8 days in order for her to take the Mikveh, the ritual bath, she approached Jesus from the rear. She thought if I could but touch the fringes on his cloak- the blue tassels Jews sewed on their garments to remind themselves of the commandments- if I could but touch his fringes I could be made well.

            We are reminded of Paul’s letter to the Hebrews. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Her faith had made her well.

            The third story is the raising of Jairus’ daughter. Matthew has changed Mark’s story. In Mark, Jairus says “My daughter is at the point of death”. Matthew is more dramatic: she is already dead. For a Rabbi to be in the presence of a corpse was shocking. And yet, Jesus goes; even though he would be himself naturally unclean for 7 days.

            In Hebrew mythology, when someone dies, the soul lingers near the body for three days, hoping to be reunited with the body. In the Lazarus story, Lazarus has been dead for 4 days. His reanimation is no resuscitation, right? The Lazarus story only appears in John’s gospel; so we can say that the raising of Jairus’ daughter is Matthew’s Lazarus story.

            What all three of these stories tell is a story of restoration. Tax collectors, bleeding women and sick people were separated from their communities as family and tribe feared contamination through associations with those who were unclean.

            Glenn is a cross dresser. His adopted name is Millie. The back story is that Glenn acted in his son’s High School play- Millicent the Magnificent- in which the dads dressed in women’s clothing. For Glenn, soon to be Millie, something fell into place. Years later, she joined a support group at St. Augustine’s called “Androgyny” and at some point, the conversation turned to religion. Someone told her that she would be welcomed at St. Augustine’s. She responded  “You don’t get it. I’ve been kicked out of more churches than I care to admit.”  That person responded, “No Millie, you don’t get it. They really want you here.”

            I came on the scene in 1997; long after this event. Millie would come to the church office on Fridays to assemble the Sunday bulletins. It was her way of giving to the church because she was living in deep poverty. She and I would have thoughtful conversations about the scriptures. I looked forward each week to the inquiry she’d bring.

            Months later, my first Lent. I didn’t recognize Millie in church. The reason was this: her Lenten fast was to forego dresses and make-up and come to church in men’s clothing. While others gave up chocolates or potato chips; Millie was sacrificing something precious to her sense of self. The whole congregation rejoiced on Easter Sunday when Millie walked down the aisle in her best Laura Ashley and sporting a beautiful Easter bonnet.

            My favorite Millie story is this: on Shrove Tuesday, we’d have a Mardi Gras party, which required extensive decorating of the parish hall. Our hospitality chairwoman, Jennifer, told me this story weeks afterwards. After setting up, Jennifer went into the Ladies room to change into her costume. And while she was putting on-or taking off, I can’t remember which- her pantyhose, she fell into a delightful conversation with Millie, who had been helping with the set up. Jennifer told me that later that night, after supper and as we were cleaning up, that she briefly thought: “Wait a minute. Millie is a guy.” But immediately, the realization, “Oh, it’s only Millie.”

            Millie found complete acceptance in a community that loved her for who she is, not in spite of who she is.

            When a columbarium was established at the church, the vestry voted unanimously to reserve a free niche for Millie. That even in death she would be surrounded by those who love her.

            These are perilous times. All across our nation, hundreds of laws are being passed to inflict unnecessary pain on trans kids and their parents;  cynical strategy by politicians to raise money and get votes. To inflict unnecessary anguish on parents who are trying to do their best for their child in a fraught situation is shameful. That some of our brother and sister Christians cheer these actions is tragic.

We break bread to share Christ’s body. We break open the Scriptures to hear Jesus’ call for compassion to literally feel the pain of others.

            Can we not but open our imaginations to both welcome and defend the vulnerable, with no exceptions, and labor to bring hope and healing to this broken land.

                                                                                                Amen 

April 30th, 2023: The Good Shepherd: Voice, Gate, Abundance by Reverend Judith ("Jude") Lyons

This is a day which the Lord has made.

Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Good Morning!  My name is Jude, and I am so happy to be here with you on this warm Good Shepherd Sunday, the Fourth Sunday of Easter.

Good Shepherd Sunday –the Sunday that celebrates one of the most beloved images of Jesus for believers and non-believers alike.  There is a reason why the 23rd psalm brings comfort at memorials for those who haven’t been to church in decades.  And there is a reason we return to it year after year, deepening our understanding, helping us to breathe easier in its loving calm.

There are three words from John’s Good Shepherd Gospel today I’d like to unpack:  Voice, Gate, and Abundance.

The first asks: What is the Voice you follow?  Is it authentic?

I have friends – my age – who post something they have made or care about on Facebook and then despair over the comments, count how many likes, and then change what they wrote or made to gain approval from those they follow.

I know people, from BOTH parties, who say, boldly, that they never listen to or read anything from that other party, because that other party lies. They themselves listen to the voices of truth.

And I know people who say that unless your branding, marketing, messaging speaks with one voice, you will not be heard and you will have no influence, so how you manipulate your voice is what matters.

What is the Voice that you follow?  Is it authentic?

 My father was a radio personality in the 40‘s and 50’s.  Some of you may be old enough to remember— He was an announcer for Edgar Bergan, Phil Harris, Kay Kaiser, Jack Benny, and he was even the announcer in 1954 for the academy awards hosted by Bob Hope.

 His own show, for which he was best known, was “The Whistler”, a wonderful mystery program with a haunting whistle at the beginning.  My father had a powerful, well-trained voice radio voice.

 At that time, all actors aspired to achieve The American Standard Voice used by all the best actors and announcers. Today that voice sounds mildly British, with soft R’s and crisp diction: “Our” or “Power”.

Character actors, of course, learned to create comic voices that –more often than not-- were stereotypical, in ways that today we might find offensive, but the Radio- Television voice, the American Standard voice, was the sound associated with class,with education, with sophistication.

It was beautiful, soothing, predictable, and respectable.

It homogenized the sound; it standardized the voice.

We learned to trust that trained, created voice.

We thought the best voice, the most Authentic Voice was stripped of ethnicity, personality, emotion, location … difference.

Listen:

“Last night for dinner I had two desserts.” 

“Today is Good Shepherd Sunday”

“The plane crash killed 5 people and their dog.”

The words are different, but the sound is the same. The sound is disconnected from the person speaking. Disconnected from its context and its meaning.

I exaggerate, but only a little.

Is that what we mean today by Authentic— stripped, bloodless, predictable?

I don’t think so. At least I hope not.

The sheep follow the shepherd because they recognize and trust his voice. It is unique to the shepherd, it is authentically his. Not some standardized shepherd voice, but his own unique sound.

David made up songs and sang them to his sheep.

Jesus spoke, laughed and probably sang too.

An authentic voice is a voice we trust, a voice that is connected to the heart and soul of a human being a voice that helps us to know, a voice that gives comfort, a voice that includes. a voice that generates in us a desire to follow, a will to follow, we make a choice to follow.

And---the voices of those we love are imprinted in us forever.

My father died in 1966 at age 50, and just thinking of him now, I can hear his voice.

 How do you hear Jesus’ voice?

Allow your imagination to hear as the disciples hear, in the present moment.

The disciples heard his words, but they followed, like sheep, his voice.

 As a side note, Barbara Brown Taylor has written that sheep get a bad rap, promoted in part by cattle ranchers who found sheep unmanageable and therefore stupid. She explains that sheep are not stupid; they are different.  Cattle are herded from behind pushing and forcing the cattle forward with loud yells, sticks, ropes, whips, horses and dogs.

 Sheep tend to scatter and run away in fear.   Sheep are led from the front, they recognize their shepherd’s voice, and they follow. 

Jesus walks out of the pen, his sheep recognize and trust his voice, he walks in front of them and they follow. 

Jesus hikes up the hillside and the people follow.

Jesus has always led by attraction, not force. 

Force is how humans understand the world. 

Jesus is different, and he leads us to be different with him. 

The question remains, What is the voice that you follow?

Is it the voice of manipulation, pressure, insult, seduction, marketing, fear, enticements--

Or Is it the voice of Jesus, of God? 

Is it authentic? 

Does it ask but not insist?

It is interesting that in our Gospel today Jesus never says “I am the Good Shepherd”. 

There are 7 “I am” statements in John, and the one we hear today is “I am the Gate.”

Word Two:  Gate.

Historians note that sometimes shepherds were an actual gate!  Pens were built with high walls of stone, sometimes topped with prickly branches to discourage climbing over, and there was an opening to enter and exit.  Occasionally there was a real lockable gate, but when there wasn’t, the shepherd lay down across the opening to protect the sheep from predators and thieves.

 So when Jesus says his sheep “will come in and go out and find pasture,”  I enjoy imagining Jesus laying down across the opening with some straggler sheep walking over him!

Perhaps, today, we might extend the metaphor  to think of a gate not as a door that opens and closes, but more like a bridge, a gateway, Jesus says I am the bridge, I am right here, with you, listen for my voice, particularly when so many other voices are so loud, listen for my voice, you know it, you do, even when you think you’ve forgotten, you know it, follow me toward the still waters of love and peace.

And this takes us to word three:  Abundance.

Abundance---overflowing, more than enough, plenty, all you could ever need or want, miles and miles of it, abundant love, for everyone!!!

Jesus says, “I came that you may have life, and have it abundantly.” Which means: ‘I came that you may be so filled with love and beauty and gratitude and wonder, that it feels like your heart will burst in excitement to share it with others.  I came to open your eyes to the love of God to a depth beyond your knowing, to the life hAre and now And the life beyond this one.’

Jesus does not say I came to force, punish or shame you  so that you will obey, conform, or deny yourself pleasures, or that you should all be the same. Nor does he say that living life abundantly has anything to do with wealth or things.

Jesus knows that being able to silence the voices of the world in order to hear his voice, is not a mere switch we can turn on or off.

 Jesus knows that the struggles we face are real, the fear and pain we feel are real, the temptations for an easy fix are real, and that all of us can get tired and lost and lured in the direction of an inauthentic voice, even a dangerous voice.

 But the voice of our Good Shepherd, the voice of Jesus is always singing, always calling to us, ready for us when we lend an ear.

 Today’s Gospel reminds us, yet again, to ask ourselves if the Voice we are following is of God?

Jesus invites us to strengthen our hearing by following him over the bridge, to feel again the abundance of God’s gifts to us, to give us love and hope for another day.

AMEN 

 

January 15th, 2023: The Second Sunday After the Epiphany - Sermon by The Rev. J.R. Lander

John’s introduction of Andrew and Simon Peter is unique among the Gospels. While in Matthew, Mark and Luke, these first disciples are called in and around the Sea of Galilee. We first meet them as fishers, somewhere near the town of Capernaum. In John, however, these two are first disciples of John the Baptist. We meet them near where John was baptizing near the Southern end of the Jordan River.  John had just been telling the pharisees that he was not the Messiah, but rather the voice in the wilderness. Now, when John tells his two disciples that Jesus is the Lamb of God, they begin to follow Jesus.

Interestingly enough, the first question these two disciples ask Jesus is not “Who are you”, “What are you doing,” “Where are you going,” but rather they ask“where are you staying”.

The Greek here is the word “meno”, a word which can also be translated as “abide”. 

Meno is also used in other places in John.  Where we read “The word became flesh and lived among us”, the word translated as “lived” is also meno. Later in chapter 14, Jesus tells his disciples he is preparing an abiding place for them…. Also meno.  Later in the same chapter, Jesus tells them he will abide with his disciples…. Also meno. 

Thus a central act of Jesus in John is abiding…  living with…. Being present with.  It isn’t doing, or speaking, or saying…. It is simply being with.

We so often focus on “Doing” something. We want to make something, produce something, create something. We don’t consider just being. We don’t focus on how people are. We don’t just sit with them. When someone is sick or suffering, we ask “How are you doing?”

But Jesus is simply being present.

Yet is it such a simple thing… just to be present? Is it really so easy? I think it isn’t.

When my mother was dying last year, I flew home to be with her. On her last day, she was unconscious. She was on a external respirator, which forced air into her lungs. The seals on her face where so strong that it had cause bruising and bleeding. In fact, they had covered the area around her face in bandages so that it would cause more pain. Every time it forced air into her body, it cause her entire body to convulse.

I sat with her for about four hours. We turned on music. We called other family so they could say goodbye to her. But after four hours, I couldn’t take any more. I couldn’t sit with her any longer. It brought up too much pain for me… pain of her suffering… pain of our broken relationship… pain of my anger toward her… pain of my frustration with her. I could only be with her for so long. 

To be present isn’t really an easy thing. To be present means we have to sit with our fears, our anxieties, and our pain. To be present is actually to be vulnerable. It is to let our guard down, to let our walls down, and to open up to the other. 

To be present is something we so fear that we build up walls, literal and figurative. We live in a world of such walls… walls to keep ourselves in and others out. Whether these walls are around our homes, our neighborhoods, our nations, or even our hearts…. We keep building them. Truly being present is so frightening to us that we build those walls when the other needs us the most. 

Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī was a 13th century Sufi Muslim poet and mystic from what is now Iran. Among the many writings we have of his, we have the following:

“Run from what's comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I'll be mad.”

“Run from what's comfortable. Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious. I have tried prudent planning long enough. From now on I'll be mad.”

To truly abide with the other is to live dangerously.

Years ago, when in a sermon I used this very quote, some members of the congregation accused me of hypocrisy. I lived in a very nice house, not far from Alki Beach in Seattle. On one level, they missed the point of what I was saying. They took it too literally.

Yet, on another level, they were quite right. I, like so many, often take the safest and easiest route in my life. Yet I believe Jesus is calling us to more, to struggle, to go deeper.

St. Matthias has a long history of being present. Before I came to be with you, I told some friends I had in town that I would be coming here. They are self-described heathens, with no faith traditions. But they knew about St. Matthias because of the Soup Hour.

For nearly four decades St. Matthias has opened its doors to feed those in need. Yet since the pandemic began, this has ended to be replaced by a bagged lunch and some assistance at the gate. 

I am not sure if the Soup Hour will ever return as it was. And that may be OK. Everything has a time and a season, as we hear in Ecclesiasticus. The energy and passion for what was may have died. That may very well be clear in the $90k deficit we face for the current year. But God’s call for us to be present hasn’t ended. It is more vital now than every. 

Part of this transition period is for St. Matthias to discern how it will be present in Whittier in the future. Over the next several months there will be opportunities for you to join in the conversation, to help dream about St. Matthias’s future. The Soup Hour, even in its current form, may not be this congregation’s future. It isn’t a secret that Dottie will at some point retire. Dottie’s ministry among us has been so dedicated to this presence. So how will her presence and love be carried forward? Who will take her place?

In truth, no one person can take Dottie’s place. And maybe no one person should. The Soup Hour ministry began through the work of lay members of this congregation, not staff. I wonder if we as a parish have become too dependent on staff for this and other ministries. I believe that the future of ministry here is dependent on your leadership, not staff leadership. And you can do this. One area that this congregation shines in lay leadership is pastoral care. Pastoral Care here is driven by lay people. The future of St. Matthias now requires more of you to step up and take on responsibilities here.

Over the next two months, We are going to be calling on you to step up and take on leadership in this congregation. In the short term, we need candidates for the vestry. In the longer term, we need leaders to step up and join teams focused on Formation, Outreach, Finance and Buildings/Grounds. Your wardens and staff carry too much of this burden on their shoulders. It is time for you step up and be present in this leadership.

The words from Rumi are more powerful in light of these challenges. Live where you fear to live. Abide where you fear to abide. Be present where you fear being present. Take risks. Be bold. Tear down walls. And sit with each other. Given the challenges we face, it would be easy to throw up our hands in defeat. It would be easy just to walk away. But God calls us to something different, something greater, something harder. Are you willing to step up? Are you willing to be here, to be present here, to abide here?

December 25th, 2022, Christmas Sermon by The Rev. J.R. Lander

In 9 BCE, an altar was dedicated in Rome to the goddess Pax, or Peace. It was built in honor of Augustus’s return from 3 years fighting in Gaul and Hispania. It is sometimes known as the beginning of the Pax Romana, or the Roman Peace. The Pax Romana spanned around 200 years and marked a period of Roman supremacy in the Mediterranean and Europe. 

The Roman concept of peace wasn’t the same as ours, where there is no war or violence between parties. Instead, it meant a time when Roman power was so supreme that no one could rival it. And it was a peace that primarily benefited the wealthy and powerful. It was a time when trade could flourish, as trade routes were safe and secure. While it certainly was better for the poor than periods of war, it was not a period that benefitted all equally. And more than that, it was a peace that by definition depended on the power and strength of the Roman Empire. It was a peace which was secure only because one empire ruled over many different nations and religions.

A key part of the unity of this empire was the imperial cult, where Roman emperors were seen as divine and to be worshiped. Augustus was chief among them. Stories even circulated that Augustus’s mother had been intimate with the god Apollo, suggesting that Augustus had been the product of a divine birth.

When Rome conquered a people, they were allowed to worship their own gods as long as they also worshipped the Roman imperial divinities. Jews had been given an exception to this, but that exception had been withdrawn by the time the Gospel of Luke was written. So to be part of the Pax Romana was not an easy peace. It meant a loss of independence, freedom, and even identity. Rome was the aribert and guarantor of peace, and to threaten Rome was to threaten that power and that peace. And that peace primarily benefited the rich and the powerful, both those in Rome and those around the empire who supported Rome. 

The Roman Empire credited Augustus with the dawn of this period of peace, hence the construction of the Ari Pacis. It would be fair to call him a prince of peace. He was seen as divine, and even thought to be the product of a divine union. 

And it is in this context that the evangelist we know as Luke wrote this Gospel. It’s important to remember that by the time this was written, long after the life of Jesus, the temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed. The central symbol of Jewish identity had been wiped off the face of the earth, by the supposed divine power of Rome. And while the wealthy of the empire were benefitting from Roman power, the poor and those who refused to acknowledge that power were suffering.

So in the context of this world, the person of Jesus comes into the world as a poor child in ancient Palestine. 

We could get caught up in trying to tell the story of Jesus’s birth in Luke’s gospel as history, but it isn’t and the writer didn’t intend it to be.

We actually don’t know anything for certain about Jesus birth. And it certainly didn’t happen as either Matthew or Luke wrote. But the facts of the story aren’t important, What is important, however, are the truths that the writer and evangelists were attempting to share

At the heart of that truth is God’s love for the poor, the oppressed and there persecuted. He was born into a poor family from a hilltop town. How big Nazareth was at Jesus’ time is up for debate. But it wasn’t a major city. And we know that Joseph was a manual laborer. So we know that he came from a poorer family.

Luke’s story emphasizes this. This child was of a poor family. How vastly difference this is from the Roman imperial source of peace… Caesar Augustus and his heirs. Luke emphasizes that this child was born of divine origin. The church has understood this as being God becoming incarnate in this child… God becoming one of us in the form of a poor, helpless child, from a small out of the way hill top village. 

For us, God did not come in glory, but rather in humility. God did not come in power, but rather in poverty. God not come in strength, but rather in weakness. 

What a statement to say that God has joined humanity in the midst of our weakness. We use the word “incarnation” to describe God becoming human in Jesus. Incarnation literally means “in the meat” or “in the flesh”. In Jesus, God joins in the messiness of our lives. He isn’t born in a palace, but rather the messiness of life. He is not born as one greater than us, but rather is born as one of us. 

And for Luke, the promise of salvation is primarily for the poor. The first people who hear of this miraculous birth are the shepherds in the field. In the ancient world shepherds were most often women or young boys from extremely poor families. They lived on the edge of society. They made their living protecting the sheep from predator animals. They were uneducated, weak, and often forgotten. But here the writer has the angels come and announce the birth of this child to them. This child, this savior, this Messiah… he comes in the form of a poor child and will bring salvation primarily to the poor and the outcast. 

Christmas for us brings a lot of nostalgia. We are surrounded by our Victorian era inspired decoration, and Christmas traditions which bring us joy and happiness. That is good and fine. There is nothing wrong with our traditions, as long as they bring us that joy. Filling our homes with greens and lights, sharing gifts with those we love, singing lovely carols… that’s all wonderful.

Yet at the same time we must also remember the fundamental truth that our Gospels share with us. This child, this God-incarnate, this helpless infant… this baby became human among and for the poor, the oppressed, and the outcast. The promise of his birth is the antithesis of the powerful and the elite. His glory is found in a humble stall. The hope he brings comes not with might but with love. 

As we celebrate this beautiful night, in all the glory of our traditions, let us remember the origin…. God incarnate in a helpless poor child…. God incarnate whose message is for the weak….  God incarnate whose salvation is first for the forgotten and oppressed. 

To end, I wish to offer you the following, offered by the new Bishop of Connecticut and written by Quinn Caldwell, Pastor of Plymouth Congregational Church in Syracuse, New York:

What Are You Here For?

By Quinn G. Caldwell

If you came to this place expecting a tame story, you came to the wrong place.

If you came for a story that does not threaten you, you came for a different story than the one we tell.

If you came to hear of the coming of a God who only showed up so that you could have a nice day with your loved ones, then you came for a God whom we do not worship here.

For even a regular baby is not a tame thing. And goodness that cannot threaten complacency and evil is not much good at all, and a God who would choose to give up power and invincibility to become an infant for you, certainly didn't do it just you could have dinner.

But.

If you came because you think that unwed teenage mothers are some of the strongest people in the world.

If you came because you think that the kind of people who work third shift doing stuff you'd rather not do might attract an angel's attention before you, snoring comfortably in your bed, would.

If you came because you think there are wise men and women to be found among undocumented travelers from far lands and that they might be able to show you God.

If you came to hear a story of tyrants trembling while heaven comes to peasants.

If you came because you believe that God loves the animals as much as the people and so made them the first witnesses to the saving of the world.

If you came for a story of reversals that might end up reversing you.

If you came for a tale of adventure and bravery, where strong and gentle people win, and the powerful and violent go down to dust, where the rich lose their money but find their lives and the poor are raised up like kings.

If you came to be reminded that God loves you too much to leave you unchanged.

If you came to follow the light even if it blinds you.

If you came for salvation and not safety, then: ah, my friends, you are in the right place.

Source: "All I Really Want: Readings for a Modern Christmas" by Quinn Caldwell

The Feast of All Saints (Transferred) - The Sermon from November 6th, 2023 (The Rev. J.R. Lander)

In 2004, science fiction author David Mitchell released his novel “Cloud Atlas”. In 2012, it was turned into a film by the same name. The book received great reception, and even Bill Gates even included it in his list of must reads. Cloud Atlas is story of reincarnation, and redemption. It is highly complex novel, with 6 interwoven stories that span time and space. David Mitchell describes is own book as follows:

“Literally all of the main characters, except one, are reincarnations of the same soul in different bodies throughout the novel identified by a birthmark ... that's just a symbol really of the universality of human nature. The title itself Cloud Atlas, the cloud refers to the ever changing manifestations of the Atlas, which is the fixed human nature which is always thus and ever shall be. So the book's theme is predacity, the way individuals prey on individuals, groups on groups, nations on nations, tribes on tribes. So I just take this theme and in a sense reincarnate that theme in another context …”

I find Mitchell’s own description is a dark one. I think it misses the redemption that is also very present in each of these stories, if incomplete. Human nature does have recurring patterns of greed, abuse, and murder; but it also has repeating instances of humans fighting for justice. And the stories Mitchell created each have an example of justice being sought, and hope being given.

The central character in one of these stories is Sonmi-45, a human clone & slave-worker. Her entire life is meant to be spent at a fast food restaurant in a post-apocalyptic Korea. With the helps of others, she escapes and becomes aware both of her servitude and oppression forced upon her by others. She is ultimately arrested & executed as a threat to the corporate state that rules her time. Yet before she dies, she recounts her story to an archivist. As part of this she says the following:

“Our lives are not our own; from womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness we birth our future.”

Now I do not share Mitchhell’s dark worldview, nor do I believe in incarnation. But I have found this quote speaks to me, and to our Christian understanding of redemption. I have found that it speaks to the interconnectedness that we understand as Christians to those who have gone before us, those who are now, and those who will come after.

Today we celebrate the Feast of All Saints’, which actually falls on November 1st. It is followed by its companion Feast of All Souls’. Through these two feasts we remember and celebrate the lives of all those who have gone before us…. Those we know, and those we do not know; those whose names are recorded in history, and those whose names are lost; those who are famous and those who are forgotten.

The origin of these feasts is a bit murky. The early church did celebrate the lives of martyrs, those who gave their life for the Christian Faith. This was made official in 609 by Pope Boniface IV, who declared a celebration of all martyrs on May 13th. In the 800’s, Churches in Ireland, England and Bavaria began to hold a celebration of the lives of all Saints’ on or around November 1st. By the 9th century this had become official in the realms ruled by the Frankish king Charlemagne, and spread through all of the Western Church within a couple of centuries.

In the Celtic world, this Feast seems to have been an adaptation of the Celtic Samhain festival. This was a harvest festival that marked the beginning of the darker time of the year. Cattle was brought down from summer fields, sheep were slaughtered to be frozen for the winter, and grains were stored. And in the midst of all of this, thanksgiving was given for the bounties of the warmer months.

In the Celtic world, this festival was also a liminal time. Celts believed that the veil that separated the worlds of the living and the dead was very thin. And in this liminal time of year, this thin veil became somewhat porous. Ancient gods, faeries, and the dead were believed to come across and bring a bit of havoc to the living. The living sought to appease these spirits by leaving out food & drink, lighting bonfires, and even dressing up in costumes.

The church used this pre-existing festival and turned it into a celebration of those who have died, and were not with God. Though adaption of this feast, the church used its traditions to teach the faithful about the promise of Christ’s salvation. This liminal time of year became a celebration of our connectedness to the faithful who have gone before us.

This connection between the living and the dead was understood throughout Christianity, long before the adaptation of the Celtic festival. In the first couple of centuries of Christianity, The church established a practice of celebrating Eucharist on the tombs of saints and martyrs. This practice evolved into the tradition of placing relics of saint in the altars of churches. Placing relics in altars is still the practice in Roman Catholic Church, and of Anglican churches in the Anglo-Catholic tradition. It is a reminder that when we celebrate the Eucharist, we believe that we are connected to the faithful in every generation. Eucharist is an eschatalogical act, connecting us with the end of time when all will be gathered at God’s feast. Having a physical remnant of a holy saint, a saint believed to be in the presence of God, helps us understand that connection between the living and the dead.

All of this speaks to the Christian hope of redemption. We believe that life does not end with death. We believe there is hope of salvation, and that we are still connected with those who have gone before. It is at the heart of the Eucharist, it is at the heart of Christian hope. It is at the heart of Jesus’ promise.

But that connection isn’t simply about our interconnectedness with the dead. We believe that we, as the Church, are part of God’s endeavor of redemption. Through the Church, God is redeeming the broken world. Through us the world is transformed… hope is given, justice is sought, peace is made.  This is us, as the Church, sembodying that which Jesus speaks in the eatitudes… the blessings and “woes” we have just heard from Luke. The Church, across time and space, at its best, lifts up the lowly, feeds the hungry, loves the reviled, serves the poor, and embraces the stranger. 

As we celebrate this day those we no longer see, remember those who have died whose names we know, and give thanks for the countless ones whose names are not known, let us remember that we are connected in ways we cannot fathom.  Let us remember that the works of our hands, however small they might seem, are part of God’s much larger plan. Let us give thanks for the saints in every generation who have served God in their lives, and pray that we might do the same.

“Our lives are not our own; from womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness we birth our future.”

The Fifth Sunday of Easter: Father Bill's Farewell Sermon

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 13:31-35

At the last supper, when Judas had gone out, Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.' I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."


Among other things we are going to be talking about love today so I thought I would start off with a little humor on the subject.

        There was a couple whose marriage had gone a little stale and they knew it. So they decided to go on a couples retreat to gauge how they were doing and perhaps find a way to spice things up a bit.

        When they arrived, they really liked the setting and saw a number of other couples that were joining in the retreat. After a bit everyone was invited to a get-to-know each other event.

        After everyone had gathered in the main meeting room the leader said he was going to ask a few questions. And so, he asked the first.

        “Gentlemen, what is your wife’s favorite flower?”

        The husband turned to his wife and whispered in her ear. “This is an easy one”, he said with a grin. “Your favorite flour is Gold Medal, isn’t it?”

        In the gospel today Jesus gave an interesting and important commandment to his followers. I will quote him.

        “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

        We have heard this before, many times. And each time we have heard it we wondered if carrying out this commandment is even possible. It sounds good for sure. But loving everybody else just doesn’t seem reasonable. We sure can’t love like Jesus did. He is God and we are not.

        So, let’s think about that. Jesus said to love as I have loved. That sounds pretty daunting, doesn’t it? But wait. Love as is what he said, not like. Jesus does not ask us to love like he did. We can’t do that. But we can love as he did. Loving as means just plain old loving instead of not loving. It means choosing to love as we are capable of loving. Jesus is only asking for what we are capable of doing. And we are capable of loving as much as we are able rather than not loving at all.

        Tomorrow, St. Matthias will begin a period of transition. There will be an opportunity to think about the past and perhaps mourn what is lost. Then there will be time to analyze this church as she is. Who are we and what are we? There will be a time of nervousness. What is going to happen to our church? Will things be a lot different? Will we still be happy here?

        And then a plan will be developed, a plan that contains hopes regarding the attributes of the new leader. I don’t need to speak to these attributes. I imagine each of you could delineate them as well as I can. The lists of them seem to be pretty much the same no matter the congregation.

        But I would submit to you that this new person isn’t the important part. You are the important component of the future.

        More importantly that whom is chosen, I believe, is your relationship with each other. Are you following the commandment of Jesus? Are you loving each other as he loves us? This holds the secret to success for the future.

        Today, I can testify that you do love each other in the way Jesus commanded. I can happily testify this truth to anyone listening on your behalf. You do indeed love each other as Jesus loves us. This is the most remarkable thing about this congregation. You do love each other and it’s obvious.

        And it’s not like the members of this congregation are all alike. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have talked many times about social location and I will tell you that I don’t believe we have two worshippers here from the same social location. We are separated by sex, age, income, ethnicity, sexual orientation, political beliefs, religious backgrounds, theological understandings, how we grew up, where we grew up, livelihoods, language, and many other differences too numerous to mention.

        And yet the love and comfort afforded every member of this congregation is obvious to any eye, trained or untrained. For the most part this is a congregation that does not judge others, but instead accepts people how and where they are, even embracing and celebrating the differences.

        When I first met the search committee that was charged with finding the new rector over eleven years ago, I immediately understood that everyone on that committee was committed to every other member in a really unique and loving way. I couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of the congregation acted in the same manner. When I met the vestry, it became obvious to me that that group was a close group too. Later, when I met the congregation, my hopes were fulfilled. This was indeed that unusual church that worked together. Rancor and schisms were completely absent.

        When preparing to meet with the search committee I had done my homework. I knew this was a church with good bones. The buildings might need some loving care but they were there and had potential. The church had a parking lot. The sanctuary itself was lovely and well prayed in. The music ministry was excellent. The history of the church was outstanding. And then I discovered the love this congregation has for each other and I knew we couldn’t fail as we looked to the future.

        Well, soon you will be seeking my replacement. If the love and acceptance you have for each other continues, all will be well. The Holy Spirit is at home here. This is an address for the Kingdom of God. You love each other as Jesus commanded. You do the loving thing. I beg you to jealously guard those values as time passes. If you do St. Matthias will continue to be a lighthouse in this city. It’s guaranteed.

 

The Fourth Sunday of Easter: The Lord is My Shepherd

by Fr. Bill Garrison


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


Psalm 23

1 The Lord is my shepherd; *
I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures *
and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul *
and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; *
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5 You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; *
you have anointed my head with oil,
and my cup is running over.

6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.


The metaphor of shepherds and sheep as instruction for our relationship with God is a big part of our conversation today. So, before we get serious, I thought I would share a little story with you. 

A big city police officer stopped a man in a car with a sheep in the front seat. “What are you doing with that sheep in your car? You should take it to the zoo, or at least a sheep farm where there are other sheep,” the officer said.

The following week, the same police officer saw the same man with what looked like the same sheep in the front seat. Both of them were wearing sunglasses. The police officer pulled him over.

“I thought you were going to take that sheep to the country or the zoo!” the officer said.

The man replied, “I did. We had such a good time we are going to the beach this weekend!”

We have heard the 23rd Psalm so many times most of us can almost recite it in our sleep. I wonder though how many of us have taken the time to get to know it beyond a surface understanding. It sounds great, and it is comforting, but what is meant by a good shepherd? Let’s take a few minutes to think about it, because it’s important. The good shepherd is after all an abiding metaphor telling us a lot about the nature of God.

This ancient scripture, dating back several centuries before the time of Christ, speaks volumes. During the first century, the time of Jesus, the metaphors carried within it would have been deeply understood since shepherds and sheep were everywhere in this agrarian society. Today we are not as knowledgeable about shepherds so I hope this explanation will bring more meaning to the psalm the next time you say or hear it.

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not be in want. As the psalm begins, we see very clearly that the writer is telling us that we are like sheep and God is the shepherd. We understand this is a metaphor from the opening lines.

He makes me lie down in green pastures. The shepherd knows the nicest places for the sheep to eat and leads them there. The shepherd will only lead the sheep to this best of all grazing area when they are tired and ready to lie down. Interestingly enough at the Feeding of the 5000 we are told that Jesus had the people sit down on the green grass.

Photo by Paul Seling: https://www.pexels.com/photo/selective-photography-of-white-lamb-on-hay-891607/

He leads me beside still waters. Simply put sheep are afraid of water that is running fast and making noise. They will not approach it, much less drink from it. The good shepherd knows this and takes the sheep to water that is not moving or at least moving quietly.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. This is more than just a metaphor, it exists. It is a route on which shepherds walked their flocks in order to move to better pastures. It consisted of a steep hill on one side and a drop off on the other.

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. The first and most obvious use for the rod and staff is to protect the sheep. They are weapons. But they are more than that. They are also used to rescue sheep and to guide them.

You have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over. These are beautiful images. At the end of the day the sheep are brought back to the sheep fold and inspected carefully by the shepherd. If a sheep has hurt himself the shepherd puts oil on the wound and if a sheep appears to be thirsty the shepherd dips a cup into a water jug till it is overflowing and a sheep will drink from it.

Aren’t these wonderful images? Jesus used the image of the shepherd constantly when he was describing himself and when he was describing God. Jesus said the sheep know the sound of his voice. I’d like to tell you a quick story that illustrates the point beautifully if I may.

During the Palestinian uprising in the late 1980s the Israeli army decided to punish a village near Bethlehem for not paying its taxes (which, the village claimed, simply financed their occupation). The officer in command rounded up all of the village animals and placed them in a large barbed-wire pen. Later in the week he was approached by a woman who begged him to release her flock, arguing that since her husband was dead the animals were her only source of livelihood. He pointed to the pen containing hundreds of animals and humorously quipped that it was impossible because he couldn’t find her animals. She asked that if she could in fact separate them herself, would he be willing to let her take them? He agreed. A soldier opened the gate and the woman's son produced a small reed flute. He played a simple tune again and again-and soon sheep heads began popping up across the pen. The young boy continued his music and walked home, followed by his flock of twenty-five sheep.

Nice story, isn’t it? There is a reason the image of shepherd and sheep have been used for over three thousand years to describe the relationship between God and God’s people.

In the gospel today we heard Jesus continuing a long speech to the authorities that had gathered around him. Out of the crowd comes someone to ask him a question, trying to trap him. If I might paraphrase, here is what he said.

Why do you keep us in suspense? Are you the messiah or are you not? A simple yes or no answer would be nice. Instead, you keep beating around the bush talking about signs.

The trap he was setting was this. If Jesus said yes, he was the Messiah he would be guilty of blasphemy, and they would be free to stone him to death. If he said no then he would be guilty of lying.

Jesus saw the trap and refused to bite. He said again to look at the works and make up your own minds about who he was. Then using the sheep/shepherd metaphor he said that his sheep knew his voice and if you didn’t believe then you obviously had not become one of his sheep. He said that his sheep were his. God had placed him as the shepherd. He would never lose them. Finally, he said that he and God are one and the sheep will never be lost.

This world in which we live can be a tough one. I don’t need to give you examples. It was tough in the time of Jesus and it is tough now. The people in the first century needed the shepherd, and we need the shepherd more than ever today. The shepherd, if allowed, will tend our needs and guide us in right paths if we will but listen.

The shepherd reaches out to us in our prayer life, in the scriptures, in our community of believers, and in our common worship. We in the Kingdom of God are never alone, and need never be afraid when we listen to our shepherd and follow him to green pastures. And when we do find ourselves surrounded by other sheep, we know all we need do is listen for the sound of his voice. He will take us home.

 

 

The Third Sunday of Easter

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 21:1-19

Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, "I am going fishing." They said to him, "We will go with you." They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, "Children, you have no fish, have you?" They answered him, "No." He said to them, "Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some." So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, "It is the Lord!" When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, "Bring some of the fish that you have just caught." So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, "Come and have breakfast." Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, "Who are you?" because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." A second time he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, "Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go." (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, "Follow me."


Our gospel is an interesting fishing story this morning so since we will be thinking about fishing, I thought I would share a humorous story with you before we began considering it.

Two men from Oklahoma were in Minnesota on business and wanted to try ice fishing. They stopped at a bait shop near a frozen lake and went to get some supplies. “We need an ice pick,” said the first man.

The clerk handed them their gear and wished them happy fishing. A couple of hours later, the second man came back and said, “We need another ice pick.”

The clerk sold him the pick, and the man wandered off. An hour later, both men walked into the shop again. They stormed up to the counter and said, “Ice fishing’s terrible. We want our money back!”

The clerk looked confused and asked them, “Are you not having any luck?”

Looking furious, the first man replied, “Of course not! We don’t even have the stupid boat in the water yet!”

The setting for today’s gospel is the Sea of Tiberius. This is another name for the Sea of Galilee, and is not far from the site of the feeding of the five thousand. The time is after the resurrection of Jesus Christ. In attendance for the story were Peter and six other disciples. Peter announced he was going fishing. The others said they would go fishing with him.

Now let’s stop for a moment and be clear about something. The author tells us that this story is about Jesus appearing after his resurrection. When we examine the story however, we find that it is really about Peter and his feelings of loss and guilt after having betrayed Jesus by denying him three times.

Peter went fishing because when we are depressed and upset most of us usually end up going back to the familiar. It is a distraction from the pain, something we can lose ourselves within. Fishing is what Peter did before he began following Jesus. So, he decided to go back to the familiar, back to fishing. His friends joined him because fishing was familiar to some of them too, and they were good friends and didn’t want him to be alone in his grief. 

Well, they fished all night and caught nothing at all. If you have every fished you have been there and know the feeling. Peter wanted a distraction from his pain but nothing happened, no fish were being caught. He was left alone with his thoughts.

A little after dawn, the story says, Jesus called out to them from the beach, although they did not recognize him. “Children, you haven’t caught anything have you?” The answer to the question of course was no. “Then put your net on the other side and see what happens.”

We know what happened. They caught a bunch of fish, so many it endangered the net. And it is at this point the disciples figured out that the person on the beach was Jesus. Peter, in his excitement pulls a strictly “Peter” act. He puts on his clothes, for apparently fishermen then fished naked, and jumped into the water. Perhaps he was trying to run on the water to Jesus and didn’t think he would get them wet, who knows?

Jesus had a charcoal fire burning when he got there. We remember that Peter stood by a charcoal fire when he denied knowing Jesus. Maybe the author is tying these events together? Jesus fed them breakfast, some bread and fish. We are reminded of Jesus feeding the five thousand.

After breakfast Jesus asked Peter virtually the same question three times. Now as we remember Peter’s denial perhaps what Jesus didn’t ask him was even more remarkable. Why did you deny me Peter? But Jesus doesn’t bring the issue up, the very issue that has driven Peter crazy.

Instead, Jesus asked Peter if he loved him. Three times Peter answered that he did. By answering Jesus three times that he loved him perhaps he wiped away his guilt and the three times he had denied him.

In any event Jesus told Peter to feed his sheep, a vote of confidence. Jesus never brought up Peter’s denial. Instead, he gave Peter a chance to restate his love, to cancel out his previous failure, and told him he believed in him by asking Peter to feed his sheep.

Isn’t that interesting? Have you ever been given a second chance? I know I have and I am sure most of you have too. Can you remember how grateful you were? I know second chances have made a huge difference in my life. I hope they have in yours too.

The gospel is another story illustrating the nature of God. The prodigal son comes home after wasting a fortune and is forgiven before he can say he is sorry. The gardener tells the owner of the vineyard to let him work with the tree, not cut it down. Jonah is angered toward God for forgiving the city of Nineveh when they repented after having Jonah tell the city if would be destroyed for its sins. Story after story in scripture illustrates the love and forgiveness of God.

So why is it so hard for us to comprehend and believe in the love and forgiveness with which God lavishes us? The answer naturally is that if we were God, we would run a tighter ship and we would demand justice. We don’t believe we are worth it. We haven’t earned it. The idea that God’s grace is free just doesn’t make any sense.

Well, sorry folks. God may be a lousy deal maker, and a too forgiving boss, but God is God and that is how God is and how God works.  Deal with it.

God loves each of us just as Jesus loved Peter. Our discretions are forgiven even before we ask. God believes in us even when we fail. God helps us up, dusts us off, and asks us to feed the sheep. So, let’s get to work.

Easter Sunday: The Joy of the Resurrection

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 20:1-18

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, `I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.


There was a boy who worked in the produce section of a super market. A man came in and asked to buy half a head of lettuce. The boy told him that they only sold whole heads of lettuce, but the man replied that he did not need a whole head, only half.

       The boy explained that he would have to ask the manager and so he walked into the back room and said, “There is some jerk out there who wants to buy only a half a head of lettuce.” As he finished saying this, he turned around to find the man standing right behind him, so he quickly added, “And this gentleman wants to buy the other half.”

       The manager Okayed the request and the man went on his way. Later on, the manager said to the boy, “You almost got yourself in a lot of trouble earlier, but I must say I was impressed with the way you got out of it. You think on your feet and we like that around here. Where are you from, son?”

       The boy replied, “Minnesota, sir.” “Oh, really, why did you leave Minnesota?” inquired the manager. The boy replied, “They're all just loose women and hockey players up there.”

       “My wife is from Minnesota”, exclaimed the manager. The boy instantly replied, “Really! What team did she play for?”

That young man will go far.

I think celebrating Easter every year is so very important because it gives us a chance to get back to the basics of our faith. We ask ourselves important questions which help us gauge how we are doing in our walk with Jesus. How much of our lives are we spending in partnership with Him? Is God truly receiving the majority of our attention or are we only peripherally aware of the grace we receive every day? Are we, like the man trying to purchase a half a head of lettuce, half in or are we all in? Has God truly got our attention?

It seems to me that we struggle between Easter and Good Friday. We struggle with which is the reality of life. And as we arrive here this morning, we have to admit that Good Friday is everywhere we look, every news story we hear.

The pandemic isn’t over yet in this country. We live with the awareness that more people are going to die before it leaves us.

The horrors in Ukraine are constantly before us and we can’t help but wonder how many more must die before the killing stops.

The media is having a field day with the reality of inflation as they predict doom for the economy.

Gun violence has reached epidemic proportions and there is so much of it that only the most heinous examples make the front page of the paper.

And it has become almost impossible to discern whom we can trust with power.

I could go on but it isn’t necessary. This is what Good Friday looks like in the world within which we live and frankly it gets a lot more play than Easter does.

Mary Magdalene went to the tomb on Easter morning before dawn with no expectations other than to tend to the body of Jesus with spices. She was still suffering from the loss of her teacher. She was still in a Good Friday frame of mind. What she found was an open tomb. She was instantly afraid Jesus’ body had been stolen. Here Good Friday feelings instantly grew even darker in that fear.

As the story continued Peter and another disciple raced to the tomb and found the wrappings lying in the tomb but no Jesus. Hmmm, what could that mean? They returned home wondering about it.

Mary remained at the tomb and encountered a man she mistakenly assumed was the gardener. But when she heard his voice, she instantly knew it was Jesus, risen from the dead. Resurrection. In that moment her Good Friday feelings evaporated and her Easter joy began. Resurrection had changed everything. She and her followers were soon shouting the good news for everyone to hear.

Now please understand. Nothing had changed in the world around them. The Romans were still in charge. Life was still incredibly hard. But how one encounters the world, the Good Friday world if you will, had changed. Where joy had made no sense before the resurrection, now joy was the only feeling that did.

Resurrection has no meaning unless others talk about it. Resurrection has no purpose unless others talk about it. Resurrection only has meaning if we share the good news of Easter with a world living Good Friday. Resurrection only can have meaning for those living as Easter people. Our job, as Easter people, is to tell others about resurrection and to keep reminding ourselves about it too.

So go and tell the world human beings no longer need fear death.

Go and tell the story about the life of Jesus Christ.

Go and tell the story about Jesus’ blueprint for living.

Go and tell the story about the Kingdom of God, right here, and right now.

Go and tell others about the joy found in doing the loving thing.

Go and tell the world that Good Friday is never the end. Resurrection is on the way.

This Easter my we open our whole selves to the meaning of resurrection. May we feel the love of God every day in our lives. May we commit ourselves to God’s work, following Jesus into our futures, knowing the joy, hope, and power found in his resurrection.

Hallelujah, Christ is Risen!

Palm Sunday / Sunday of the Passion

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 19:28-40

After telling a parable to the crowd at Jericho, Jesus went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, "Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' just say this, 'The Lord needs it.'" So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying the colt?" They said, "The Lord needs it." Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,

"Blessed is the king
who comes in the name of the Lord!

Peace in heaven,
and glory in the highest heaven!"

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, "Teacher, order your disciples to stop." He answered, "I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out."

Luke 23:1-49

The assembly of the elders of the people rose as a body and brought Jesus before Pilate. They began to accuse him, saying, "We found this man perverting our nation, forbidding us to pay taxes to the emperor, and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king." Then Pilate asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?" He answered, "You say so." Then Pilate said to the chief priests and the crowds, "I find no basis for an accusation against this man." But they were insistent and said, "He stirs up the people by teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he began even to this place."

When Pilate heard this, he asked whether the man was a Galilean. And when he learned that he was under Herod's jurisdiction, he sent him off to Herod, who was himself in Jerusalem at that time. When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had been wanting to see him for a long time, because he had heard about him and was hoping to see him perform some sign. He questioned him at some length, but Jesus gave him no answer. The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him. Even Herod with his soldiers treated him with contempt and mocked him; then he put an elegant robe on him, and sent him back to Pilate. That same day Herod and Pilate became friends with each other; before this they had been enemies.

Pilate then called together the chief priests, the leaders, and the people, and said to them, "You brought me this man as one who was perverting the people; and here I have examined him in your presence and have not found this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us. Indeed, he has done nothing to deserve death. I will therefore have him flogged and release him."

Then they all shouted out together, "Away with this fellow! Release Barabbas for us!" (This was a man who had been put in prison for an insurrection that had taken place in the city, and for murder.) Pilate, wanting to release Jesus, addressed them again; but they kept shouting, "Crucify, crucify him!" A third time he said to them, "Why, what evil has he done? I have found in him no ground for the sentence of death; I will therefore have him flogged and then release him." But they kept urgently demanding with loud shouts that he should be crucified; and their voices prevailed. So Pilate gave his verdict that their demand should be granted. He released the man they asked for, the one who had been put in prison for insurrection and murder, and he handed Jesus over as they wished.

As they led him away, they seized a man, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming from the country, and they laid the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus. A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him. But Jesus turned to them and said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For the days are surely coming when they will say, 'Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.' Then they will begin to say to the mountains, 'Fall on us'; and to the hills, 'Cover us.' For if they do this when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?"

Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, "Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing." And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" There was also an inscription over him, "This is the King of the Jews."

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." He replied, "Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise."

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun's light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit." Having said this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, "Certainly this man was innocent." And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts. But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.


        We are invited today to relive Holy Week in one quick service. A little while ago Jesus entered into Jerusalem in great fanfare and excitement. The crowds were elated and were convinced Jesus was riding into the city in triumph. Their worlds would be changing swiftly and for the better.

        Now it’s five days later and all their hopes and dreams have been crushed. They think it’s the end of the story. All hope is lost. Their dreams have been dashed. The world is dark, lonely, and dangerous. They walk with their heads down, crying tears of hopelessness in their anguish. It’s all over. The dream that seemed so real, so possible, is as dead as their savior.

        It’s a bleak scene, isn’t it? Those closest to Jesus are retreating to be with each other, to talk about him, to wonder what has happened. How could this be? What do we do now, they wonder? Head back to Galilee perhaps? Go back to their old jobs, the old way of being? Their depression is massive and terribly heavy. It’s hard to put one foot in front of another.

        I would venture a guess that almost everyone in this room has experienced feelings like this in our lives. I know I have.

        Many years ago, I had reached what I was sure was the end of my life. The psychic pain was palpable and agonizing. Death felt preferable to what I was experiencing in those moments. What my problem was is immaterial at this time. Just take my word for it. I was hurting and hurting badly.

        I found myself at my friend’s house, someone that had opened his home to me. It was about two in the morning as I recall. I lay there in pain. I was convinced I couldn’t take it for another minute. That’s when I reached out to the creator of the universe.

        In that instance I experienced a soothing peace I will never forget. If I was to give it a color it was blue. It felt cool. I felt loved like never before. My pain was not completely removed. But I knew I would live. God had resurrected me from the hell in which I had been placed. I knew that once again I had a future.

        The followers of Jesus were three days from their own resurrection with Jesus. They don’t know that today. All they can feel is the pain in the moment. They too wonder how anything can hurt so badly. They too reached out to God I am quite certain for relief.

        The good news is that we know they hung on till Sunday. Jesus rose from the dead. And in that shining moment the pain ceased, the celebration began, and once again they had a future.

The Fifth Sunday in Lent

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 12:1-8

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?" (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."


Harry and Martha drank their coffee as they listened to the morning weather report. "There will be three to five inches of snow today. You must park your cars on the odd-numbered side of the street." Harry got up from his coffee to move the car.

        Two days later, they sat down with their cup of coffee and listened to the weather forecast. "There will be two to four inches of snow today. You must park your cars on the even-numbered side of the street." Harry got up from his coffee to move the car.

        Three days later, they tuned in to the weather report. "There will be six to eight inches of snow today. You must park your cars on the... ." The power went off.

        Harry said to Martha, "What am I going to do now?"

        Martha said, "This time just leave the car in the garage."

        Were you ready for that? It kind of snuck up on me and I imagine it did you too. Here is something else that surprised me.

        Have you ever priced cosmetics? Most women know that there are lines of cosmetics that cost incredible amounts of money. Most men have some slight grasp of that fact, but we really aren’t all that well acquainted with how much we are talking about.

        One time when my mother was visiting, she ran out of a couple of her Merle Norman cosmetics products. I see a couple of you ladies shaking your heads. Yes! That stuff is expensive.

        Anyway, I found a Merle Norman store on the internet and drove over there and bought the two items in which she was of need. I was handed two very small little jars and charged well over one hundred dollars. I almost fainted. “Are you sure?” She assured me she was with a big smile on her face. I couldn’t believe it.

        Well, if you want to know about expensive cosmetics how about the jar of Nard that Jesus was anointed with by Mary in today’s gospel story we just heard? Nard, for the uninitiated, comes from the Himalaya Mountains. It’s processed from a flowering plant that grows there. And it costs a lot of money. According to the gospel writer the jar of nard which anointed Jesus was worth three hundred denarii.   Let’s put that in perspective. A Denarii was approximately a day’s pay for the common man. That means this jar of nard was worth three hundred days pay. In today’s terms that’s probably over forty thousand dollars. Holy Cow you say. No wonder Judas was upset by what happened.

        On the face of it, what Mary did was of no practical sense. Judas was right. The nard could have been sold and something more practical done with the money. The writer of the gospel says that Judas wanted to steal the money, and that was his real interest. But the fact is that Judas had a point. The money could have gone for a more practical purpose other than anointing Jesus and making him smell nice.         When Judas stated his feelings about it, Jesus snapped at him. There are two versions of what Jesus said, one in John which we read a bit ago, and one in Mark. In John we heard “"Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."

        I am particularly fond of Mark’s, and here I quote it. “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could.”

        Isn’t this interesting? We have two reactions to Mary’s act. Mary has shown Jesus her love for him through this tremendously wasteful, and frankly worthless, act. But he appreciates it. Judas, who is the practical keeper of the community funds, The Treasurer for the community if you will, on the other hand does not appreciate what Mary has done at all. In fact, he thinks it’s stupid.

        And so, we ask ourselves the most important question of all. What does this story have to do with us? What is the lesson we learn from this?

        Well, let’s remember we don’t think like God. Let’s start there. God’s priorities are not our priorities. As we have discussed before we have a bad habit of projecting our thoughts onto God. So please forgive me as I live dangerously and think about the nature of God for a bit based on my encounters with God in scripture.

        God created the cosmos and everything that is in it. God speaks things into existence. Probably God thinks things into existence too, but I don’t know. Maybe God’s speaking and thinking are the same thing. In any event God is able to produce anything that God might desire for the cosmos out of nothing, In God’s world there are no shortages. The idea of shortage as applied to God makes no sense at all since God is capable of creating anything at any time.

        Jesus is the mirror image of God. Know Jesus and then know God. I assume that same statement works the other way too. Know God and then know Jesus. Jesus speaks thing into existence too. Think about the loaves and fishes when he fed everyone in the crowd. Think about the miracles he performed. So, the idea that Jesus isn’t particularly impressed with the value of Nard doesn’t surprise us, does it? Fifty cents or five hundred dollars are of no consequence to Jesus. He is interested in other things. In this case he is interested in the welfare of Mary. He seeks to protect her.

        We live in a world of plenty. I have heard that to irradicate hunger would only cost thirty or forty billion dollars annually. I am talking about eliminating hunger for the whole planet. Yet people won’t share what they have. Instead, we hoard. Some of us having incredible riches and others less than nothing. God created plenty, much more than any of us need. The problem is we just won’t share. I imagine the idea of not sharing is as abhorrent to God as not being concerned about the price of beauty products is to us.

        What God appears to be most interested in is relationship with each of us. I submit Jesus’ relationship with Mary is a great example of that. And I would also say that his relationship with Judas is equally important. You see I am certain Jesus knew Judas was stealing from the common purse. Jesus probably didn’t like that but he continued to trust Judas while hoping for the best. He wouldn’t give up on him.

        Don’t you think God has a similar relationship with us? God has left us in charge of creation. If we are honest, we could be doing better than we are taking care of the planet don’t you think? People are starving because those with much are unwilling to share with those who have little. Yet God leaves us in charge. Maybe that’s where the phrase hope springs eternal comes from. God never gives up on us. God just loves us too much to do that.

        Today perhaps our invitation is to give God’s love for us some thought.

 

 

 

The Third Sunday in Lent: Projecting

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 13:1-9

At that very time there were some present who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them--do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did."

Then he told this parable: "A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, 'See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?' He replied, 'Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.'"


One day a young man was visiting the fair. Over to one side was a small tent, with a sign that said “For 20 dollars I'll teach you to be a mind reader!  Apply within.” So, the young man thought that he'd give it a go, and went inside.  Behind a small table inside was an old man, who looked up when the young man entered and said, “Ah, you must be here for the mind reading lessons.”

“Well, yes” the young man said.

“Well, follow me, and I'll give you your first lesson.” Then the old man went out the back of the tent and walked over to a hose, and picked up one end. 

“Here, hold this hose.”

“Why?” said the young man.

“It's part of the lesson,” replies the old man, “Now, look in the end and tell me what you see.”

So, the young man looked into the end of the hose, and only saw darkness.  “I don't see anything,” he told the old man.

Just then the old man turned on a tap, and the hose shot water into the young man’s face, “I had a feeling you'd do something like that!” the young man shouted at the old man.

“You are now a mind reader!” the old man replied, “That'll be 20 dollars.”

Have you ever been at a busy counter attempting to buy something? And it appears the clerk is ignoring you? They wait on others but not you. It doesn’t even seem like they are aware you exist at all. What the heck is going on here?

Do you attempt to guess what this person is thinking? Or why they do what they do? I do, and I bet you do too. For me it’s often about something that has disturbed me. I often come to a conclusion about why they did what they did. Usually for me it has something to do with my hurt feelings, or my assumption that I don’t matter in a certain situation having just been ignored. So, I tend to decide that the person was in fact ignoring me and didn’t care if my feelings were hurt, meanwhile thinking something or someone was more important.

Now as we think about it, that’s crazy, isn’t it? What we are doing is guessing what the other person is thinking. We don’t really know what they are thinking we must admit. So, we use a little logic. If we had done the same thing our reason for doing it would be that we didn’t care about the person and that something else was more important. So, then we project that understanding on to them.

Now honestly, we don’t know what anybody else is thinking do we? We can only guess, and when we guess we are probably projecting our own way of thinking and being on them. And, a tremendous percentage of the time we would be completely wrong.

Well how often do we also think we understand what God is thinking? How many times have you heard people speak for God? How often do you think they are projecting their own ideas onto God, or their ideas about what God should be thinking? Certain phrases that assume this knowledge really bother me, sort of like fingernails on a chalkboard. I’d like to share a small sampling of sayings that assume we know what God is thinking and that we can speak for God.

Here we go. It was the will of God that something happened to somebody. If I can be holy enough God will make sure that my life will be great. Everything happens for a reason. You are exactly where God wants you to be. Heard enough?

The gospel today contains a couple of stories that attest to the fact we should not be speaking God’s mind. In the first story Jesus is being asked if some Galileans deserved to be punished by God because they were worse sinners than other Galileans? Jesus’ answer is simple. No. Then he referenced a tower falling on eighteen people and asked if that happened because God was upset with them. Again, Jesus said no, God didn’t cause that. The tower just fell down and they happened to be under it.

Then Jesus told a parable. A tree wasn’t producing fruit and the owner wanted to cut it down. But the gardener interceded and said let’s put some manure around it and perhaps it will produce fruit next year. Jesus, of course, is the gardener in the parable. Remember, Jesus is the mirror image of God. The parable tells us that God protects life.

Jesus is making a point. God doesn’t destroy. Sometimes people destroy. Sometimes stuff happens. But God isn’t behind death and destruction. God gives life and protects life. That, Jesus is telling us, is the nature of God.

We human beings would run the cosmos in a vastly different way than God does. Things would have to be earned. Bad people would be punished. Good people would be rewarded. There would be rules and if you followed them good things would be awarded to you, and if you did bad things, you would be punished.

But we aren’t God and God follows a different set of principles. So perhaps we might think about ceasing to project our thoughts onto God. Just like we ought to try to stop projecting our thoughts onto other people. The truth is we don’t know what others are thinking and we certainly don’t know what God is thinking. Isn’t it enough to know God loves us and gives life to the world in spite of what we think?

 

The Second Sunday in Lent: One Thing We Can Count On

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 13:31-35

Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.' Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'"


It seems we spend our lives seeking things we can count on. When we first arrive in this world and are young everything seems permanent, but then as we begin to be polished by the wheel of life and time passes, we learn that almost nothing is permanent. We learn these lessons the hard way.

Before we get too serious, I want to tell you about a farmer who decided there was one constant in his life. This farmer’s name was Joe and he was out plowing one day and accidentally ran over an old stump that had never been fully removed from his field. As a result, his tractor tipped over throwing him out into the field and he was knocked out by the blow. The next thing he knew he was looking up into the face of his loving wife Agnes. “Agnes, here you are,” he whispered as she gently massaged his aching head. “Something bad has happened and here you are.”

“Agnes, do you remember when I was out fishing on the river a few years ago and fell in? I just about drowned and when I came to after struggling to get out of the water, there you were. And remember when I fell out of the tree when I was working on the kid’s play house some time back? The first thing I saw when I came too was your face looking down at me. And Agnes, remember the time I was up on the roof working on the leaks and accidentally rolled off? Sure enough the first thing I saw when I woke up from the fall was you.

Agnes, you are bad luck!”

Albuquerque - Daniel Schwen, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

As a child my father worked for the government and we moved a lot. I won’t bother you with all the places we lived but one of those places was Albuquerque, New Mexico. We lived there three times and the last time was during a very formative time in my life, High School and a couple years of college.

I loved my life there and I loved Albuquerque. I still do. But it isn’t the same today as it was then. I thought for years I would move there when I retired or sooner if I could, but no more. It has become a place to visit not live for me.

Some of my favorite things are still there, but for the most part the city has changed. As an example, I went to an all-boy’s school and a few years after I graduated, they started admitting girls. The parts of the city I wouldn’t mind living in have moved west, east, and north. Other parts of town, some of my favorites in my younger years, have changed and not for the better.

Another loss I have been thinking a lot about is the loss of the Christian church I had as a kid. I don’t mean the one specific church I might have been attending at any given time, wherever we might have been living since we moved a lot. I’m talking about the fact that Sundays were days when everyone went to church. That’s what you did if you were a decent person and didn’t want the neighbors thinking badly of you. You got up on Sunday morning and went to church with your family. I mean, you might as well go to church because businesses certainly weren’t open and you felt a little guilty being seen in public away from the church.

Of course, as we know, those days are gone too. Now Sunday morning is no big deal in our society. Most people think the week starts on Monday, not Sunday. Kids get scheduled to play sports and do other activities on Sunday morning rather than go to church. It never occurs to other organizations anymore that Sundays might be anything other than another day to schedule something for people to do. All the stores are open, many 24/7.

In the gospel this morning we heard that Jesus is in danger. Herod wants him dead. Some Pharisees have approached Jesus to warn him that he better be careful and move on out of the city before something bad happens.

Jesus replies that he has other plans. “Tell that old fox that I am busy today and tomorrow healing and driving out demons and in three days I will be finished with what I am doing.” In other words, Jesus has an itinerary and he is not going to deviate from it for Herod or for anybody else. There are people counting on Jesus to be there for them over the next three days and Jesus is committed to being there. Jesus had an agenda. Jesus would not deviate from it. If you had business coming up with Jesus you could count on him being there.

Now here’s the important point. Jesus had an agenda. It didn’t change because of problems with Herod. It undoubtedly did not change because of anyone else either. It was not an agreement. You do this and I will do that. No, Jesus was going to do what he intended to do regardless of anybody else.

Jesus is the best image of God we have. Jesus has the same characteristics as God. Study Jesus and know more about God. God has an agenda too, just like Jesus had.

We hear so often that we must do things in order for God to do something. It’s as if God is sitting around waiting for us to make a request or to act in a certain way so that God can act. Isn’t that ridiculous as you think about it? The creator of the universe is waiting for us to ask for God will to do something.

We hear things like we need to pray more and maybe we do, but not for God’s best interests. We hear we need to go to church more, and I’m sure we do, but again, not for God’s best interest. God doesn’t have a good or bad day depending on us. God has an agenda and things are going to happen God’s way in God’s time.

But please, I am not saying God is ignoring us. Nothing could be farther from the truth. And sometimes God does change things when we ask. Just like Jesus had an agenda, yet went out of his way to love and compassionately heal people, God does the same. Jesus was incredibly present while going about his business. God incredibly present too.

And here’s the part of all this amazes me. We know that the world is constantly changing, that the things we thought we could count on we can’t. We can all name things we thought at one time were permanent, but turned out not to be. Yet the creator of the cosmos, the prime mover of all of life, the most powerful force that ever could be and ever will be, will stop and pick up the phone when we call. Every time we call, God is on the other end of the line. Isn’t that incredible? Just think about that for a minute. God is on the other end every time we reach out.

So, I guess there is one thing we can count on after all, isn’t there? God will be there wherever we are.

 

 

 

 

The Seventh Sunday after Epiphany: Handling Change

by Fr. Bill Garrison


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


Today we are thinking about life changes that happen to all of us. How we handle change can inform and decide how our lives are lived in many ways. Here’s a little story to underline that fact.

          Fred came home from college in tears. “Mom, am I adopted?” he asked.

          “No of course not,” replied his mother. “Why would you think that?

          Fred showed her his genealogy DNA test results. No match for any of his relatives, and strong matches for a family who lived clear across town. Perturbed, his mother called her husband. “Honey, Fred has done a DNA test, and... and... I don't know how to say this... he may not be our son.”

          “Well, obviously!”, was the reply.

          She gasped. “What do you mean?”

          “It was your idea in the first place! You remember, that first night in the hospital when the baby did nothing but scream and cry and was driving you crazy? You asked me to help you out and change him for you. So, I did. And I picked a good baby for sure!

          Today we are blessed to have witnessed a baptism of father and son. We know that as close as they might be, this event will forever make them even closer. A change has happened in their relationship. You see my father and I were baptized at the same time so I can speak to what has happened here today first hand. I traveled to Milton Freewater, Oregon a couple years ago and actually saw our baptisms in the official record. It was an emotional experience for me. Today we are giving Matt and Makaio baptismal certificates commemorating this event. We will also place their names in the official record. So, like me, if either ever wants to confirm their baptisms the record will be available, and they will be listed together. The Holy Spirit has touched them both this day, and bound them even closer together for all time.

          The other important event today is the celebration we will be having to highlight the ministry of Rev. Carole, and to send her to God’s next stop with a wonderful and enthusiastic St. Matthias send off.

          I first met Carole as we were attending a class in Claremont on Saturdays. Several of us from St. Matthias were there taking that class from my favorite professor. Carole was there too as she was getting close to finishing her seminary education.

          It turned out Carole needed to spend some time in a church getting some field education as part of her graduation requirements. She and I sat outside the classroom one afternoon and she asked me if we would be interested in having her join us for a semester or two.

          Folks, I admit the idea of taking on a soon to be ordained person, much less an associate, was the farthest thing from my mind. Had anyone else asked me it would have been a flat no, not interested. But I sensed God in the idea, and I have learned to honor God and the Holy Spirit in my travels as a Christian and priest.

          Why and how did I feel God’s presence you ask? Well, what God wanted was almost shouted at me. You see we both have roots in a very small town of about 30,000 people in northeastern Oklahoma. She grew up there and my entire family lived in this little town or very close. We both know the area and customs intimately. I had been in this area of Oklahoma multiple times every year of my life.

          Carole had previously heard me speak on Facebook and recognized my voice from class. She said it jarred her. God’s presence in our mutual future was so obvious to both of us that we knew it had to be preordained. If we ignored the obvious, we did so at our own peril.

          So, Carole joined with us for the women’s retreat during the summer of 2017 and participated in her first service on August thirteen of that year. I remember showing her how to tie a cincture. That’s the rope belt that goes around us. It’s pretty basic. All of us have had a great deal to do with her growth as an ordained person. I am certain she agrees.

          Well time has flown. Carole finished her seminary education and was ordained to the transitional diaconate June the second of 2018, and to the priesthood on January twelfth, 2019. Tim Adams carried the St. Matthias flag in the procession that day.

          Carole has made a difference here. She has been my partner in ministry and has done much to add to the welfare of this church. I am proud of her and I am proud of the people of St. Matthias as you have taught her, and been taught by her.

          And God isn’t finished yet. God has more for her to do. She has been called to become the Priest in charge at St. Thomas of Canterbury in Temecula. We are sad to see her go, but we also recognize we are not in charge. God is in charge. She will be the leader those folks need. She will be loved and she will love them. But who knows what the future holds after a time there? Gods knows and God will reveal God’s plans in God’s time.

          You see life change is more common than most of us think. In fact, I would say that change is more common than anything else in life. Even the things we see as constants are constantly changing. Couples that have been married for decades are not the same as when they began. Buildings get older and are renovated. Towns and cities grow and change and sometimes fade away. Even the geography is constantly changing. Mountains wear down. Rivers change their courses.

          God is in the middle of all of it. God is involved in every person’s life. God has hopes for each of us. God wants the best for each of us I truly believe. The question becomes not is change coming, but rather what is it that God would like us to do? Now understand. God doesn’t make anybody do anything. God is a gracious God. God asks, sometimes quite loudly, but never forces us to do as God wishes. It’s called free will.

          So how do we listen to God? Well, the messages come to us in a variety of ways. For Carole and I it was pretty obvious what God wanted. At other times things may not be as obvious. We might have an idea or two about the future, but we are unsure. We need to discern God’s will.

          I want to introduce you to a concept. It’s called Holy Indifference. In a nutshell that means we are not caught up in worry about the future. All we want to is to follow where God leads us. When we honestly reach that place within, and it sometimes takes some prayer and study to get there, things become more obvious. Doors begin to open almost by themselves. Objects and people blocking the way move out of the way. And soon it becomes obvious we are following the path God laid out for us.

          Now please understand. As you probably already know change is hard and it’s scary. For some more frightening and painful than it is for others. So, here’s an analogy that I hope is comforting as we contemplate next steps in life and what God would prefer.

          Think about a trapeze. There are two important people on it, the flier and the catcher. We are the flier. We know we have to let go. We know we are going to be in space, and when we look down, we don’t see a net. It’s terrifying. If the catcher doesn’t catch us, we are probably going to be severely injured or die.

          The trapeze of life, of change, has one important component to it that we must remember as we let go, and the feeling of being alone in the world is overwhelming. But we have great news. The catcher waiting for us is God. God is going to catch us. We may feel alone and afraid, but God is on the other end of the journey. It’s going to be ok. We can trust our catcher.

          So today, we know Makaio and Matt are going to be ok. We know that our beloved Carole will be fine. And so will we. We will be ok too. God is waiting and will catch us all as we move into the future. It’s where God wishes for us to go.

 

Rev. Carole celebrating Holy Eucharist on the first Sunday after her ordination. Photo courtesy of Bob Howe.