11 Pentecost, 2026-A: Responsive, willing witnesses

Lectionary: 1 Kings 19:9-18; Psalm 85:8-13; Romans 10:5-15; Matthew 14:22-33  

En el nombre de Dios: creador, redentor, y santificador... 

In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.

I begin today with some discussion of our Episcopal identity. Lesson 1: The Anglican Church was not founded by King Henry VIII so that he could divorce his wife and marry his mistress. Henry lived and died a Roman Catholic.

What Henry did was establish the Church of England, which was subject to his authority, not the authority of the Pope. Our true founder was Henry’s daughter by Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, who, at the height of the Reformation Era, enacted the Elizabethan Settlement, which consisted of two parts: 1) the Act of Supremacy, making Elizabeth (again, not the Pope) the Supreme Governor of the Church of England, and 2) the Act of Uniformity, requiring the use of a worship book she commissioned; a book that intentionally included elements common to both Catholics and Protestants, hence the name: The Book of Common Prayer.

“The Elizabethan Settlement sought to be an inclusive middle course between divergent religious positions.” Elizabeth’s goal was that all Britons would live in peace, which they did throughout her 45-year reign. So, from our beginnings, we have valued diversity and inclusion.

Lesson 2: We have only two dogmas, that is, things you must believe to be an Episcopalian. Who can tell me what they are and where to find them in the BCP?

They are: 1) that God is Trinity in Unity and 2) that Jesus, who is the second person of the Trinity, is the Savior. Come to the next Episcopal 101 to find out where to find this in our BCP. 

Those are our only two dogmas, so the rest, as they say, is up for discussion, which is what we do as an institutional church at our conventions: parish, diocesan, and General. We agree to move forward together, having prayed and studied whatever issue is before us. Not everyone is happy with the movements we take, or how long it takes us to get there, but we commit to staying in relationship, praying together, and trusting God to show us how, when, and where to go.

As we ponder today’s Collect and lectionary, I hope we hear them as a diverse group of beloved ones who survive by staying in relationship with God and one another. If I could rewrite one word in our Collect, I’d say give us “the spirit to think and do always those things that are righteous,” that is, reflective of a right relationship with God and one another.

Paul does a good, if confusing, job describing righteousness in his letter to the Romans. Essentially, it is a visible agreement of our words and actions grounded in our faith in a loving, generous, inclusive God, manifested in Jesus, the Christ. Also, I think Paul might have been an Episcopalian at heart, because he says, “there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him.

The gospel from Matthew offers us a wonderful opportunity to remember our commitment to diversity. Some people believe that Jesus and Peter actually walked on water. Others believe the story is mythological.

It’s perfectly legitimate to believe that it actually happened. It’s also OK to believe it’s a myth, provided we don’t limit our understanding of a myth to something that is untrue or ahistorical. In his book, “Life Lessons from the Great Myths, Prof. J Rufus Fears says that a myth is “the vehicle by which cultures throughout human history have passed their most important values and beliefs on to future generations.” (The Great Courses, Chantilly, VA, 2011, p 1) In that sense, this gospel story is certainly mythological.

We will discuss the gospel today from both perspectives. Let’s begin by looking at the deeply symbolic language used by Matthew, who, you remember, was writing to a Jewish audience.

After feeding the 5000, plus women and children, Jesus sends the disciples to “the other side” of the Sea of Galilee, referring to the Gentile side. Then Jesus goes up the mountain alone, a familiar phrase to Jewish listeners that meant going to be with God to pray.

It was evening, so the light, which is the means by which we see and understand, was diminishing as the disciples moved away from Jesus’ presence, their boat being carried out into stormy waters. This is a reference to the Creation story in Genesis, where God separated the water from the firmament, establishing a firm foundation to stand upon.

The gospel says their boat was being battered by waves, and the wind was against them. The boat is the community vessel, in our language, the Church. The storms of the world were battering them, and the wind seemed to be against them. As we heard in 1 Kings, winds strong enough to split mountains exist on earth, and God is not in them. God wasn’t battering the disciples; the world was.

The unique geography of the Sea of Galilee explains how sudden and severe storms can happen. Sitting 700 feet below sea level and surrounded by mountains means cold air from above can suddenly clash with warm air by the water, resulting in waves of up to 10 feet that crash onto shorelines and can sink ships.

Jesus returns to them, symbolized by the morning light, but they were terrified because they couldn’t understand what they were seeing. Jesus was walking on the water!

To walk, in Biblical language, is to be in a close relationship with God, e.g., Noah, Moses, and Abraham walked with God. It can also refer to how we conduct our lives, how we behave. The Offertory sentence I use most often begins: Walk in love, as Christ loved us...

So, Jesus walks calmly toward them on stormy, chaotic waters. How could they understand this? It was an impossibility. Terrified, they cried out their best guess - he must be a ghost, literally, a phantasma, an apparition. Jesus calms their fears by saying, " Don’t be afraid. It is I. Matthew is using Biblical language for the name of God, referencing the story in Exodus when God sent Moses to free the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, and Moses asked, Who shall I say sent me? And God said, tell them I AM sent you.

Jesus is claiming his divine identity while still in his human form. The Word made Flesh. God Incarnate. No wonder they had trouble understanding... 

God bless Peter, who says, Well, it if IS you, command me to come to you on the water. Come, Jesus says, though it’s more of an invitation than a command.

When the world is storming around us, we may hear this simple invitation: Come. Walk into the storm. I Am here. Do you trust me?

Peter does trust and walks out onto the water. In the realness of the storm, however, Peter becomes aware of how dangerous it is, and how unsafe he is, and he begins to sink in fear.

We all know what that feels like, don’t we? The harsh reality of the ferocity and destructiveness of some in the world can overwhelm us. Fear can interrupt our walk with God, and when it does, we begin to sink into darkness.

The beauty of Peter is, when his faith faltered, he cried out to Jesus, “Save me!” And Jesus did, immediately reaching out and catching Peter. Whenever we feel overwhelmed, when our faith falters, be like Peter and call out to Jesus, who will reach out and catch us, too, lifting us back up into life.

Jesus’s question to Peter, why did you doubt? is important. Not because Jesus is chastising Peter for doubting, but because by naming it, Jesus is validating that when we doubt, he will remind us that he’s there. To doubt is human, and it enables us to grow through it into maturity of faith, just as it did for Peter.

Back in the vessel of their community, the boat, the wind ceased. Christ’s peace, which is different from the peace of this world, was established, and everyone on the boat witnessed this happen and began worshipping Jesus.

We learn from this story that our goal is to live our lives faithfully, remembering that what we do and say is being witnessed by someone: our children, our friends, our neighbors in our boat, and the global connections we have on social media. Ours is an ever-growing faith that will falter. Sometimes we will doubt, fear, and sink into darkness, but when we do, we call out to God in Christ, who catches us and raises us up to life again.

Our witness, like Peter’s, is NOT about being perfect. It’s about being responsive to Christ’s invitation to us, being willing to keep walking in love, growing in our faith, and whenever possible, to be the hand that reaches out in Jesus’ name, to someone else who is sinking into a stormy darkness. Amen.

10 Pentecost, 2026-A: How to be the Church in the world.

Lectionary:Isaiah 55:1-5; Psalm 145: 8-9, 15-22; Romans 9:1-5; Matthew 14:13-21

En el nombre de Dios: creador, redentor y santificador.... In the name of God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.

As we reflect on the stories in our lectionary today, I ask you to consider a) what do you believe about God, and b) how do you use that in your life?

I learned at our Bible study this week that our Collect for today was written about 1500 years ago. That puts in in the era of the Early Middle Ages, aka, the Dark Ages. The Roman empire had just fallen, destabilizing the world. Trade routes for food, goods, and manufacture that had been safe under the Pax Romana, were now treacherous as local, tribal groups began to build or rebuild kingdoms in the vacuum of the Roman absence. War was everywhere. People were struggling to eat, to work, to survive. Their focus on survival resulted in little to no advancement in education art, music, and literature - hence the name: the Dark Ages.

It is in this context that our Collect was written. It’s a familiar context for us today. We are witnessing global destabilization in real time and it’s scaring many of us. When folks come to me with fear and anxiety over what’s happening in the world, I remind them that humankind has survived this before. God promised reconciliation of the whole world and God keeps God’s promises.

This Collect gives us words to pray when we’re afraid and our faith is faltering. The Church, however, is the people of God (us), not an institution (it), so we might rephrase the Collect saying, “because we cannot continue in safety without your help, protect and govern us always by your goodness.”

The goodness of God is a truth we can always count on. Despite what many so-called Christians say about a vengeful, punishing God who hates sinners, the psalmist reminds us that God is gracious and “full of compassion, slow to anger and of great kindness”...and “loving to everyone.” There is no “except for” here. God’s love is inclusive of everyone.

This psalm has been attributed to King David and was believed to be written near the end of his life, so it reflects a spiritual maturity David gained in his lifetime. Not only is God good, kind, loving, and compassionate, but God is also generous to meet our needs, near to us whenever we call, and protects us against those who would harm us.

The inclusive nature of God’s love is also attested to in Isaiah. Ho, everyone... Isaiah says, if you are thirsty, come to the waters. You don’t need money. Come buy wine and milk without money, without price. Eat what is good, delight in rich foods.

Then God, speaking through the prophet, says, “come to me, listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant” and he names David a faithful witness. And we just heard David’s witness: that God is good, kind, loving, compassionate, generous, near to us, hears us, and protects us.

These Old Testament texts provide us with a foundation for our understanding of the inclusive, loving, attentive nature of God. How does your understanding of God fit with this? What did you learn about the nature of God growing up - especially if you are LGBTQIA2S+ , an immigrant, poor, or female?

Did you feel included in the love of God in the Church? As a female, I didn’t. My gay child and friends didn’t, because the Church used their power to exclude those whom God had always intended to include.

It’s still happening today in the Church and by the people of God in the world. I read this week that the Missouri Secretary of State is threatening to block state and federal funding from a library in Columbia that read LGBTQ+ books to children at a recent public event. If they didn’t violate the law, one of our Senators said he wants to change the law to prohibit this from happening in the future. According to their official government pages, these men are professed Christians.

How do we use what we believe about God? To include or to exclude? To serve or to dominate?

Our Gospel story today teaches us how we are to use what we believe about God in Christ. It is, in my opinion, Jesus’ first lesson to the disciples on how to be the Church in the world. It is also, the real first Eucharist, but we’ll get to that later.

The context is this: Jesus has just learned that his beloved cousin, John the Baptist, has been beheaded by Herod. So, Jesus retreats to a deserted place by himself. Anyone who is deeply grieving can understand this. Add to that, John’s murder by the state was unjust according to Jewish law, manipulated, and horrifying by any standard. In addition, Herod strangely believed that Jesus, who was born just months after John, is the reincarnation of John, so he’s out to kill him too.

Jesus is confronting political insanity, which is generating horrible, unjust violence against perceived enemies. Somehow, this feels familiar these days, which is why we can identify with that feeling of being depleted by what the world around us is doing.

The gospel says, “when they heard it” (and we’re not sure if that refers to John’s beheading or Jesus’ retreat), the people followed Jesus on foot. Jesus comes ashore to find a great crowd waiting for him - and he had compassion on them and cured their sick. As the psalmist says, The Lord “fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he hears their cry and helps them.”

We don’t know how long Jesus spent among the crowd healing them, but we do know it lasted until the end of day, because when evening came, the disciples wanted to send the crowd away so they could eat.

Here comes that first lesson from Jesus on how to be the Church in the world. They don’t need to go away, Jesus says. YOU give them something to eat.

I hope we hear “something to eat” as more than just consuming food. Being fed by God is much bigger than that, isn’t it? In fact, it’s what we Episcopalians do each Sunday when we gather together as God’s people, the Church. We share a Eucharist, which features the holy food of God, aka, Holy Communion.

How will we do that, the disciples ask. We have only five loaves and two fish. This resonates with Mary’s question to the archangel, Gabriel: How will I bear the Son of God when I haven’t been with a man? The answer both times: nothing is impossible for God. Be the vessel. Let God act through you.

Jesus tells the disciples to bring all they have to him. I hope we hear that as more than just bread and fish. Bring all they have, all they are. Then he enacts the first Holy Communion, the first sacred meal that makes a community out of varied and diverse people gathered together, drawn there to be fed by God.

Jesus blessed and broke the bread and gave it to his disciples. Sound familiar? Then he told the disciples to give the bread to the crowds. God’s holy food for God’s holy people. No exclusions. No course to take or test to pass. No secret handshake to learn. Give it to everyone who wants it, Jesus said.

And everyone who ate was filled. And there was an abundance left over because that is the generous nature of God’s love.

Do we have ears to hear this? This is Jesus telling us how to be the Church in the world. How does this fit with what we believe about God and how do we use that in the world today?

In the Diocese of Missouri, our bishop enables us to live this faithfully by offering Holy Communion to all who are present. You’ll hear the invitation later in our service.

At Emmanuel, we welcome all whom God draws near, just as they are, embracing them with friendship and inviting them to participate in all parts of our parish life. I’ve had several conversations in just the past two weeks with folks who have been told by the church of their childhood that they are intrinsically disordered and barred from communion, marriage, ordination, and participating in parts of their parish’s life and work. They have been condemned as sinful, and their life problems were blamed on their sin. It’s truly heartbreaking, and so I give thanks for this wonderful lectionary that reminds us of who God really is, and who we are in relationship to God and one another.

To sum up then: God is good, kind, loving, compassionate, generous, meets our needs, is near to us, hears us when we call, and protects us against those who would harm us. We, the people of God, the Church, are to do likewise in the world: loving all God’s people, hearing and responding to the cries of those in need, protecting the vulnerable from those who would harm them. We are to gather in community to share our thanks and the holy food of God, feeding anyone and everyone God draws to us from the bread of life, given to us in Jesus, the Christ. Amen.

8 Pentecost, 26-A: The ultimate healing

Lectionary: Wisdom of Solomon 12:13, 16-19; Psalm 86:11-17; Romans 8:12-25; Matthew 13:24-30,36-43 

As happens, the Spirit spoke a few edits as I gave this sermon live. I'd recommend this video on our YouTube channel instead of the pre-recorded below...  V+

En el nombre de Dios: creador, redentor y santificador.... In the name of God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.

Good news in our gospel today, eh? Actually, it is, if we have ears to hear. 

Last week, I mentioned that we often hear biblical stories the way the church that raised us taught us to hear them. Our lectionary today offers us a few concepts we were raised to find familiar, and we will reflect on them from a Biblically grounded perspective.

Our Collect reflects an early Christian belief that we are unworthy and dare not ask God for mercy. This sense of unworthiness derives from Augustine of Hippo’s 3rd century doctrine of original sin - that we are born in a state of sin. This doctrine was later strengthened and expanded by John Calvin and other Reformers in the 15th century, and sadly, it survives and thrives in much of Christianity today. I say sadly, because it is not a biblical teaching.

As Episcopalians, you may cling to this teaching if you choose to, but we engage with the biblical teaching that we are born in the image and likeness of God (Gen 1:27). The world may challenge and tempt us away from that, but God stands steadfastly with us, reminding us of the truth of who we are and whose we are, continually guiding us back to our created state of original goodness - which is how redemption works.

Jesus directly addresses the issue of worthiness in the parable of the wheat and weeds. In Jesus’ time, you could sabotage a harvest of wheat by throwing in the seeds of bearded darnell, a weed-grain that looks a lot like wheat but is bitter and toxic in its maturity. The roots of this weed eventually wind together with the roots of the wheat. Once that happens, it is impossible to remove until the threshing.

Experienced field hands knew that the logical thing to do would be to pull out the weeds quickly so they don’t steal soil space and nutrients from the grain. But Jesus’ parable, like all parables, surprises. The farmer instructs them to let the wheat and the weeds grow together. At harvest time, they will be separated by the reapers, not the field hands, and dealt with according to the will of the farmer. This is Jesus clarifying that the separation of the weeds from the wheat is a divine task, not a human one.

Much of the commentary and discussion about this parable talk about the judgment of God being terrible - the bad weeds (people) being thrown into fire with weeping and gnashing of teeth, and they warn us that God’s justice for us is like that. In his life and ministry, however, Jesus demonstrated a loving, forgiving, humble character. When the law would have allowed Jesus to punish sin, he didn’t. Instead, he forgave people their sins and clarified that the law was meant to serve and benefit humans, not the other way around. (Mk 2:27)

God’s commitment is to reconcile all people (Isa 49:6), even those who are evil, which, btw, doesn’t mean bad. Evil persons are those who, by their intention or actions, cause division, harm, or sadness; those who build systems that make the burdens of others heavy or oppressive. They may do bad things, but they are not bad.

Jesus demonstrated this reconciling nature of God by calling Matthew, a tax collector, the very definition of an evil person, to be a disciple, transforming him into an apostle, and what a beautiful, hopeful demonstration that is! As for us, we acknowledge in our Catechism that it is also our mission to “restore all people, the wheat and the weeds, “to unity with God and each other in Christ." (Book of Common Prayer, p 855)

In this parable, Jesus is instructing us to live together, being cautious of our judgment. We tend to judge the wheat as good and the weeds as bad, but we need to be careful, because we’re often wrong.

From my grandmother, who was an herbalist, I learned that dandelions are highly nutritious: the flowers, the leaves, and the roots. They are also the first food of pollinators every Spring. It has always shocked me that people will go to such great lengths to eliminate this nutritious plant from their yards, even resorting to known cancer-causing chemicals to destroy them, prioritizing instead manicured grass, which, though pretty, offers nothing of value to humans or pollinators.

Historically, we have also labeled whole groups of people as bad weeds, haven’t we? Currently, LGBTQIA2S+ people, immigrants, women, people of color, and the poor are at the top of our lists.

Jesus teaches us that the weeds will be separated from the wheat by divine action, not ours. When the weeds are separated out, they will be reborn in God because that is the love and mercy of God: to retrieve all that is lost, broken, or damaged and redeem it – bringing new life from death.

We must remember that the weeds are also created by God, and the people deemed to be weeds are also the dwelling places of the presence of God. They may be lost, to be sure, but we know how Jesus felt about leaving the many to go after even one who is lost. So, Jesus says, the wheat and the weeds must live together, entwined by the roots of our common humanity, because God seeks to redeem and reconcile all.

That doesn’t always happen in our lifetimes, as we well know. Sometimes the weeds die in their evil state, unrepentant and still doing harm. Establishing boundaries that protect us from their evil answers Jesus’ call to honor and respect ourselves. As I often say, we may have to let Jesus accomplish the redemption in the next life, when our efforts have failed, which is one reason why praying for the dead matters.

Jesus says, when the angels of God separate the wheat from the weeds, the weeds will be thrown into the furnace of fire where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. This powerful portion of Jesus’ teaching pierces the very heart of the apocalyptic tradition in Judaism, a tradition that was carried into Christianity as fire and brimstone threats - but that misunderstands the tradition.

First, let’s consider how fire is used in the Bible. There’s the famously burning bush through which God spoke to Moses (Ex 3:1), and the “appearance of the glory of God was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain for all the people to see.” (Ex 24: 17) In Luke 3:16, John the Baptist declared that the Messiah would baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.

Fire is biblical language for the presence of God. When the weeds are thrown into the fire, they are thrown into the presence of God where, of course, there would be weeping and gnashing of teeth because those who believe in their own power will resist dying to self, but in the presence of God, who is love, the revelation of the harm they have done will leave them full of remorse as their systems of denial and justification fail, and they know the fullness of their guilt.

This is why we continually repent - which simply means change our course, change what we’re doing, thinking, or believing - and return to God as our Baptismal vows call us to do. Mercifully, God responds by doing what God always does – forgiving us, loving us, and redirecting us, giving us another chance to live the lives of love we were created to live.

When we are in the presence of God, no matter how unworthy we might have been taught to feel, the pervasiveness of God’s love saturates us, and we can only - finally - love back. It is the ultimate healing. It is reconciliation.

Then, as the parable says, those who have been reconciled back into right relationship in the fire of the divine presence will shine like the sun in the kingdom of God. God’s plan of redemptive, reconciling love for the whole world is reassuring, encouraging, healing, and loving, not threatening.

What if we approach our loving, merciful God, and ask God to heal our brokenness – brokenness we know we have, and brokenness we don’t yet know we have. What if we actually trusted God’s plan of salvation to make us and everyone whole? What if we lived as Jesus showed us how to live, in the midst of yet another harsh and destructive historical moment?

We can do this only through the power of the love of God in Christ who dwells in us, guiding our every step. 

I close with a prayer I adapted from our Noonday Prayer service (BCP, 107). Let us pray. Redeeming God, you have sent your Holy Spirit into our hearts, to direct and serve us according to your will, to comfort us in all our afflictions, to defend us from error, and to lead us into all truth. We thank you and bless you for steadfastly loving and caring for us in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

7 Pentecost, 26-A: Sower, seed, and fruit

Lectionary: Isaiah 55:10-13; Psalm 65: (1-8), 9-14; Romans 8:1-11; Matthew 13:1-9,18-23

En el nombre de Dios: creador, redentor y santificador.... In the name of God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.

One of my favorite things about Scripture is that every time you read it, there is a new revelation. Underlying that, for most of us, is that we have been taught to hear, understand, and visualize the stories in a particular way - the way the church that raised us imparted to us.

I want to note that when I say “we” throughout this sermon, I mean us as individuals, us as a parish community, and us as the body of Christ, the Church.

The Lockwood window at EEC

Historically agreed upon visual images, like those in our stained-glass windows, along with traditional ways of understanding Biblical stories, develop as we reflect on our story of salvation. That isn’t a bad thing, as long as we remember that the revelation of God to humankind is continual, so when we cling only to traditional images or understanding we restrict God’s ongoing activity meant to enable us to grow and mature in our faith and relationships with God, one another, and our neighbors.

When we hear the Parable of the Sower, most of us were taught to picture God as the sower and ourselves as the soil. We tend to listen, asking ourselves, am I good soil? Which translates to, am I a good person?

So, let’s expand the window through which we are looking at this. Our gospel reading starts with the words “that same day,” which refers to what has just happened, which is that the Pharisees have denounced Jesus as a law-breaker because he healed a man on the Sabbath, allowed his hungry disciples to pluck grain on the Sabbath, and healed a demoniac - they say - by the power of Beelzebul.

Jesus responds to these accusations by calling the Pharisees a “brood of vipers” and an” evil generation.” Ya gotta love Jesus’ candor! Yet, despite the overt opposition of the religious leadership, huge crowds continue to gather to hear Jesus, who, in today’s gospel, tells them the Parable of the Sower, which, as the gospel writer says, teaches them many things.

In this parable, Jesus describes the sower as an extravagant gardener who casts seeds everywhere: on soil, pavement, into thorns…everywhere. The sower tosses the seeds out in such a way that it’s possible new life might take root in the unlikeliest of places, something anyone who has seen nature overtake a ruin can affirm.

The traditional approach to this parable is that God is the extravagant sower, sending out seeds of new life into the world, knowing that some won’t live at all, some will live a short life, and some will last and produce fruit. The seeds are traditionally understood to be God’s plan for new life on the earth, and we are the places where those seeds land.

That’s a perfectly legitimate approach. But what if one of the many things Jesus’ parable teaches us is that we are also the sowers of these seeds? Isn’t God already in us, working through us in the world? If we’re waiting for God to act, perhaps we don’t have ears to hear God asking us to act - to be extravagant planters of new life, distributors of God’s grace in the world.

Another of the many things the parable teaches us may be that we are not one of those places the seeds land; we are all of them, at different times in our lives. Perhaps each place: the path, the rocky soil, and the thorns are steps we take toward becoming good soil. I don’t know about you, but I can identify the many times when each of those places was true in my life. It hasn’t been a straight path for me, but a dynamic one, always heading toward becoming rich, receptive soil for God.

Finally, what if we are also the seeds being scattered? We all carry within us unseen potential. Well, unseen by us but known to God.

When we allow God to move in and through us, we often see the outcomes of grace. For example, Emmanuel has had a part in forming many ordained people. It’s a charism that lives among us, one the bishop has noted too, btw. We then send those persons into the world to serve using the fruits of the gifts we helped them discover and nourish.

On an individual level, whenever we respond to a person or situation, we bring either the values of God or the values of the world into play. The choice is always ours. The outcomes of those choices are pretty easy to find. Just take a look at yours and others’ social media.

In his time, Jesus honored and included those traditionally ostracized by religion and society: women, foreigners, and perfidious tax collectors. Emmanuel follows Jesus’ example of this in our time in various ways: 1) raising money to provide menstrual products through our Food Center, because they have become expensive and hard to get for those on assistance, enabling us to respect the dignity of women; 2) loving and serving our foreign-born, immigrant neighbors through our Light to the Nations ministry, led by Susanna+ and her team; and 3) welcoming into our parish family those whom other churches and society cast out because of whom they love or how they identify in all their intersectionality, because we recognize in them the beautiful diversity of all children of God.

Jesus was a religious rebel who challenged the traditional understanding of his time, showing us how to do it in our time. As it was for Jesus then, so it is for us now: there will be opposition to upsetting the status quo by those who establish and profit from it - in societal and religious systems - but there are crowds gathering even now, around our country and around the world, who are hungry for liberty from oppression and genocide; who seek justice and healing for victims of crime; and who desire peace and the pursuit of happiness in their everyday lives.

Many of us find ourselves among these crowds. That’s no accident. It’s part of God’s plan of love.

Because of Jesus, we live uniquely and miraculously in the flesh and in the Spirit. St. Paul got that only partly right in his letter, but that’s OK. God’s revelation is continuous and St. Paul gave us a good start.

In this unique flesh-and-spirit reality of ours, we come to know and understand what we ought to do by that same Spirit who dwells in us, fills us with grace, and empowers us through our faith to accomplish them. As our Bishop said in his recent message in the diocesan e-news: “The Spirit forever calls us beyond what is familiar, beyond what is comfortable, and beyond what is safe, into the holy work of bearing witness to God’s justice, mercy, and reconciling love.” (Art: Pentecost by El Greco)

That is our call, and some of us will produce huge amounts of divine fruit in our lives - like Archbishop Desmond Tutu or Mother Theresa. Some will produce a bit less, and some will produce one small fruit in their whole life.

All of these contributions are of value to God. Life isn’t a competition. It’s a cooperation.

What happens to one of us, happens to all of us. That can be good news or bad news, depending on whether we choose to bring the values of God or the values of the world, which are hostile to God, into play.

Each time we make this choice, it helps to remember that we were once the hardened footpath, the rocky ground, or among the thorns, and God led us to become good soil, often by sending a neighbor to reach a helping hand out to us. It helps to remember that God chooses us to throw seeds of love extravagantly, the way God does, so that love and new life might take root and grow in the unlikeliest of places...  in the unlikeliest of people. It helps to remember that we are all divine fruit - God’s cherished beloveds in the world.

Let us pray: God of extravagant love, give us the courage to be like you: lavish sowers of your seeds of love in the world. Give us ears to hear and understand, and by your Spirit, give us grace to see with your divine eyes, that we may recognize the goodness you proclaimed is in all you have created. You have chosen and empowered us by your Holy Spirit. May our fruit acknowledge the truth that we and all creation are in a continual process of sanctification and reconciliation within your abundant, steadfast, and everlasting love. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

4 Pentecost, 26-A: All made one in Jesus, the Christ

Lectionary: Jeremiah 20:7-13; Psalm 69: 8-11, (12-17), 18-20; Romans 6:1b-11; Matthew 10:24-39 

En el nombre de Dios: creador, redentor y santificador.... In the name of God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.

As many of you know, I grew up Roman Catholic. And not just Roman Catholic, but Irish RC with daily Rosaries at home and Catholic school for my sisters and me.

We called our neighborhood friends who didn’t go to Catholic school, our “public friends.” They used to tease us that we could do anything wrong we wanted, then just go to Confession (which we did every Friday), and get our soul-slate wiped clean. They’d tempt us, for instance, to steal some candy at the five-and-dime because we could just confess it later and be fine.

Even as a kid, I knew it didn’t work that way, but I couldn’t say quite why. St. Paul does a good job of that in his letter to the Romans. Being in the grace of God doesn’t give us leave to continue in sin. In the same way, being Baptized into the body of Christ doesn’t guarantee us a soft and easy road to eternal glory in the by and by. In fact, it’s rather the opposite, as Jesus makes very clear in today’s gospel.

This gospel continues directly from last week’s gospel when Jesus initiated a shift in divine action so that the disciples were now also vessels, vehicles of the action of God in the world.The disciples were being sent out to restore the helpless and harassed to wholeness of life, to wholeness of spirit, and to wholeness of purpose, in Jesus’ name. The disciples were being sent as co-creators of God’s redemption in the world and Jesus tells them it won’t be easy.

There is no soft and easy road to eternal glory in the by and by. It didn’t happen that way for Jesus and it won’t happen that way for those of us who follow Jesus either.

Jesus says, the holders of earthly power and privilege will hate you and fight against you. Even those who are closest to you will become like enemies but stand firm on the foundation of God’s love and fear not, Jesus tells them, for God will always act to redeem.

That is our good news. God is always acting to redeem all things, all people, all the time. The reality of the new age ushered in by Jesus, is this: earth and heaven, the temporal and the eternal, have been made one in Jesus, the Christ. As Jesus explains to his disciples: what happens on earth, happens in heaven. If you acknowledge me or deny me in the earthly realm, that is also what happens in the eternal realm. So, fear nothing and let love guide your every decision, every action.

Jesus reminds us that no one can actually destroy us. They may kill our bodies, but no one can douse that spark of divine life in us. No one. This enables us to be fearless and persist no matter who fights back or how, or for how long.

One would think that sharing the good news of redemption would be work that brings honor and praise, but if human systems are to be transformed, they first must be dismantled, and that rarely happens without a fight. Even in the church.

Last Sunday at the Q & A following PRIDE Evensong, Bp. Gene Robinson affirmed that the in order to move toward equality of all persons, particularly LGBTQIA2S+ people and women, patriarchy must be dismantled. I think what we are witnessing right now, is that the patriarchy is fighting back - hard.

We can look at history and see that the road to cultural transformation has never been soft or easy. Those with power, wealth, and influence wouldn’t - or couldn’t - let go, and those without power or wealth were eventually unwilling to be exploited, disrespected, and oppressed anymore. History shows us that it was usually rebellion, a rising up of the oppressed and their allies, that brought about systemic change.

We are in the midst of a systemic change again, or maybe still... a change that will open the way for freedom and peace for all people. Any earthly or religious system that stands in the way of that will be dismantled because that is how God acts to redeem, reclaim, reconcile.

We aren’t called to travel a soft and easy road into the by and by. We’re called to act right now, following in the footsteps of Jesus, working together as disciples have throughout the ages, bound by the love of God in Christ. We are called to bear the love of God in Christ into the world as it is, that God may transform it into the world it can be: a world of peace, harmony, freedom, inclusivity, full equality, and shared resources that are faithfully stewarded.

How wonderful to have Tony’s Baptism to celebrate today. It focuses us on these values of our faith. It also enables us to remember the promises we made in our Baptism and will renew together today, promises that include turning to Jesus, not to a politician or a political ideology dressed up as religion for understanding, guidance, or security.

We will also renounce sinful desires like the excessive accumulation of wealth or power, and the social, emotional, physical, or economic dominance over someone else, knowing that these things distract us from Jesus’ command to love God with all our hearts, minds, strength, and souls, and one another as ourselves.

We will reaffirm our pledge to actively nurture and strengthen our connections with one another and God through consistent worship and prayer because we know our church community is where we learn, practice, and teach our young ones how to seek and serve Christ in all persons.

Little Tony and his wonderful family are counting on us to keep these promises, and, honestly, it is our joy to do so.

And so, I invite baby Tony, his parents, godparents, and the children of the church to come forward to the font so we can Baptize this precious new life among us.

3 Pentecost, 26-A: Vessels of divine action

Lectionary: Exodus 19:2-8a; Psalm 100; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35-10:8(9-23) 

I invite you to go to the Emmanuel YouTube channel to see this sermon delivered live at the 9:30 am service.

 

En el nombre de Dios, que nos ama, nos sana, nos valora y se conecta con nosotros... 

In the name of God who loves us, heals us, values us and connects with us. Amen.

Our gospel today invites us to notice an important shift in divine action. In the chapters ahead of this gospel, Jesus is traveling around the region teaching, healing, and proclaiming the good news that the kingdom of God is at hand, right here – right now! The people were responding with so much joy and devotion that the religious leadership tried to claim Jesus was healing by the power of the evil one – not God.

Despite the religious leadership's best efforts, the people connected to Jesus in droves. Huge crowds were gathering to receive what he was giving: hope, healing, a sense of value, and connection.

Wherever he went, Jesus connected with the people he encountered, allowing himself to share the pain of their suffering – which is what compassion is. He got his hands dirty, touching the ritually unclean and the actually unclean. Then he healed them – sometimes in their body, but always in their hearts and souls, and restoring them to their communities.

In our gospel today, Jesus is taking the divine action already working through him in the world and shifting it to his disciples. The power to heal remains God’s alone, but now the disciples are also vessels through whom God’s healing power acts in the world. As one of our Bible studiers said, they can’t heal except by the Spirit of Jesus in them.

This a remarkable shift not just because of what is happening, but also because of when it happens. As we heard last week, Jesus has just finished calling his disciples, so this gospel story comes at the beginning of their ministry together.

Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus demonstrated that our wholeness, our fullness of life, depends on connection – with God and one another. Science supports that. 

In 2023, our then Surgeon General, Dr. Vivek Murthy, reported that in the US, loneliness, that is, separation from one another and social community, adversely affects both our bodies and our society. 

“[Loneliness], Dr. Murthy said, is associated with a greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death... [As for] the harmful consequences [to our] society... [he says] we will continue to splinter and divide until we can no longer stand as a community or a country.” 

Connection, on the other hand, is healing. I’ll never forget the day in 1987 when Princess Diana visited a
person with HIV/AIDS in the hospital and held his hand. No gloves. No masks. Two years later, she cradled and comforted a baby with HIV. 

Her simple, loving, unguarded touch helped calm the storms of fear and fiction about the transmission of HIV/AIDS and showed the world what it looks like to love and serve everyone with dignity and compassion. Diana’s touch may not have healed their bodies, but it certainly healed their souls, and the souls of all those who suffered from being exiled, judged, and demeaned for what the world called their sin, and the souls of all of us who witnessed it.

The phrase our Scripture translates as “cure the sick” means more broadly: notice those who are weak, who need strength in body or spirit. Jesus’ instruction is to identify the powerless and bring them the power of God’s healing love, which we embody, saying to them, “the power of God, the realm of God has come near to you.”

St. Francis of Assisi once said, “We have been called to heal wounds, to unite what has fallen apart, and to bring home those who have lost their way.” If I could be so bold as to re-state what Francis said, I’d say: We have been called to be vehicles through whom God heals wounds, unites what has fallen apart, and brings home those who have lost their way.

It’s important to remember that the choice to be reconciled, to receive God’s healing love, always belongs to the person. If they choose not to accept it or to ignore or demean it, walk away, shake the dust from your feet, and leave the rest to God, whose steadfast love will continue to act to redeem beyond our efforts.

A short note on the Old Testament reference Jesus used in this gospel: Sodom and Gomorrah. This is especially important during PRIDE month.

What divided that community from God and one another was a failure of hospitality, of connection. Victorious soldiers raping vanquished men, women, and children was and is a common wartime practice. We also hear about it in prisons, detention centers, schools, and churches. Rape is about power, not sex - the coercive use of power by one person or group to force another into submission. That is the sin Jesus is referring to in this gospel.

I have been a vehicle for God’s healing power many times, affording me the privilege of witnessing God do miraculous physical and spiritual healing in people and in churches. When these healings happen, it isn’t because I did anything other than show up and let God work through me… and that’s the point: God is alive and at work as much today as when Jesus walked the earth, and every time we participate with God our lives and the lives of those we serve are transformed by the shared experience of the powerful love and presence of God drawing near. (Image source: StudioACE)

Being a vessel of divine action is our vocation, our mission. Our Prayer Book tells us that the Church pursues its mission by prayer and worship, by proclaiming the Gospel, and by promoting justice, peace, and love... God’s justice, peace, and love - which are not the same as ours. (p. 855)

Human judgment seeks to separate, isolate, and punish sinners – a category of persons we define differently in each age and culture. God’s justice, revealed to us in Jesus, seeks to rescue, reclaim, and reconnect – which is what salvation means - all whom God created, just as God created them.

All of the categories that divide us were made up by us: gay, straight, non-binary, black, white, brown, alien, native, immigrant... We made them up because we feared what we didn’t understand. We feared that we might not survive or thrive unless we took more for ourselves, even though it meant there would be less for someone else. In order to do that without guilt, we had to dehumanize or demean them, make them less than the dominant “us.”

You can’t kill children unless you categorize them and choose which category you value and which you don’t: Jewish or Palestinian, alien or “illegal.” You can’t destroy clean water sources for people until you categorize those people as undeserving because of their country of origin.

Claiming God’s sanction on the divisive categories we create is a lie we perpetrate. That so many fall into lockstep with them reveals a truth about us as a people, not God.

Jesus sends the disciples out to serve as vessels of God’s loving, healing power, telling them to be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” It’s important to note that in ancient Israel, the serpent represented healing and divine power as well as temptation and chaos. This is how it was used in the creation story in Genesis, and as Moses' staff in the Book of Numbers. 

(Image: the caduceus used in the US as a symbol for medicine, healthcare, hospitals, and pharmacies)

Being a vessel for divine power can devolve into a power trip unless we are innocent as well. To be innocent is to be pure in intent (meaning in line with the will of God), to be guileless, and to do no harm. 

When you go, Jesus says, know that those with earthly power will try to stop you, and the status quo will be protected even by those who don’t benefit from it. You will be shocked by who will betray you, even those closest to you, but keep going. If they persecute you in one town, go to the next.

As we look at the last sentence in this gospel, we need to remember that Jesus is saying this at the beginning of their ministry – not the end of it. This is not an apocalyptic prediction. It’s a statement of their new reality as vessels of God in Christ’s healing power. As they go, they will become aware of the presence of the Spirit of Jesus, who is the Son of Man, coming to them and working through them.

As we serve in our various ministries, it is the same Spirit, the Spirit of God in Christ, who acts through us, therefore we, too, must be wise as serpents and innocent as doves, so that faithful connections are made, no harm is done, and God is glorified by us. Then the people we serve will receive from us what Jesus was giving in his time: hope, healing, a sense of value, and connection. 

Amen.

Pentecost, 26-A: Widening the circle of love

I invite you to go to the Emmanuel YouTube channel to see this sermon delivered live at the 9:30 am service. UPDATE: Our livestream failed us today, so all we have this week is text. 

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

 

Peace be with you. (The people respond: And also with you.) Por favor, tomen asiento. Please be seated. 

I always enjoy the Pentecost tradition of speaking the gospel in many languages all at once. It enables us to experience the limits of our ability to manage sensory input, to hear and understand in the midst of cacophony. At the same time, it offers us the opportunity to marvel at the gift of our diversity.

I've always wished I could be one of those people who could speak multiple languages. Alas, I never had time or opportunity in my life to pursue that dream, but God led me toward another dream I hadn’t even had yet: learning the language of Spirit. Discerning the voice of God, and teaching others how to do that, is the foundation of my ministry.

Discernment is a spiritual gift, and it takes practice. It also takes a community. In the Episcopal Church, discernment is always practiced individually AND in community in a dynamic trinitarian dance of myself, God, and my community. If God is left out of the dance, the path becomes dark and destructive.

Many of us remember, with lingering incredulity, the 1978 Jonestown Massacre, the tragic event where the phrase, “drinking the Kool-Aid” was born. It’s hard to believe that so many people could be led to blindly follow a bizarre ideology proffered by an obviously deranged man and cling to the hope of his promised reward held up like a carrot.

Sadly, it happens a lot. Nazi Germany under Hitler, for another example. Shadows of this are becoming more and more apparent in our world today, which is why practicing and teaching the gift of discernment matters.

In our Collect, we asked God to give us right judgment in all things. Judgment is both discernment and decision. Our discernment is that we see and understand as God would have us do amid the cacophony around us so that we can decide faithfully, responding to the voice of God rather than the voice of the world.

When you hear the word judgment, is that what you hear? Or do you hear the church-driven cultural meaning? If you look up the word judgment in the dictionary, the 2nd definition is: a misfortune or calamity viewed as divine punishment.

This is shockingly sad, and we must repent of that as Church. Why? Because it’s unfaithful, unscriptural, and uncharacteristic of the God of love. God’s judgment always was and still is salvation, rescue, reclamation of all by the forgiveness of sin, which is anything that divides us or disrupts our loving relationships with God, one another, and ourselves. This divine judgment was demonstrated and inaugurated in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ.

Our habit of making judgment into a fear of divine punishment perverts a word that should offer us the ultimate comfort! Why have we done this to ourselves? It’s heart-breaking to me. On this wonderful day of Pentecost, when the Spirit of God enters us in a real, sensory, and spiritual way, let’s commit to repent of that habit.

The gospel from John reflects divine preparation for the event later described in the Book of Acts – an event that left everyone amazed and perplexed. John tells of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearance to his close-knit community hiding in fear in a locked room.

Unhindered by the earthly barrier of locked doors, Jesus stands among them. Amazed and perplexed barely covers how they must have felt.  Jesus says, “Peace be with you” and shows them his wounds, so they’ll know it’s really him.

The followers rejoiced when they recognized him, so Jesus says again, “Peace be with you” to calm them. Then, breathing his own Sprit, the Spirit of the Triune God, into them, Jesus says, as God has sent me, I now send you.

Breathing is a powerful and symbolic word that harkens back to the creation story in Genesis where Creator God breathed life into humans. Now God in Christ, is breathing a new life, a spiritual life into humans – for a purpose!

At our Bible study, one of our members asked, “Is the Spirit of God really in me?” The answer is a resounding YES! It is! Our whole goal, especially on this Pentecost Sunday, is to awaken to the truth of that and ponder what It means for us.

Then comes the strongest admonition I’ve ever heard Jesus give: “if you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them. If you retain the sins of any they are retained.” Despite what you may have heard this is NOT Jesus giving authority to humans to forgive or not forgive the sinful acts of others. That remains the realm and authority of God alone.

It IS Jesus warning these disciples (and us) that since the reconciliation of the whole world to God by the forgiveness of sin has been inaugurated by Jesus’s death and resurrection, there is something important for them (and us) to remember as we are sent into the world to continue this work. Here it is: when we forgive as radically as Jesus did from the cross, all who are held in the bondage of sin are set free. When we do not forgive, we perpetuate the power and destructiveness of that sin in the world. We must, therefore, be careful and faithful in how we choose to respond.

Last week, I was at the Asian American, Native Hawaiian, Pacific Islander (AANHPI) celebration where the bishop of Idaho, Jos Tharakan, gave a personal testimony about being the parent of a daughter, and how he might respond if a man came into his confessional and said he’d sexually assaulted that daughter. Bp. Jos said that he’d offer him absolution since he confessed, then he’d leave the confessional, go to the man, and shoot him.

Shocking, right? But also relatable. Bp. Jos clarified that he wouldn’t ever really do that, but he’d want to! Then he reminded us of the difference between reacting and responding.

He’s right, and while Bp. Jos didn’t elaborate that night, I will now, especially as we approach our gun violence prevention efforts.

Reactions are reflexive. Often motivated by fear or anger, even righteous anger, a reaction like the one Bp. Jos described is totally human, but we must practice restraint so that a thoughtful, faithful response can be formed in us. This is why Jesus repeated, “Peace be with you” to the disciples.

In the midst of a cacophonous, excited, emotional state, we must pause to discern how to see and understand what’s happening as God would have us do, and hear God’s guidance for how we are to respond. Shooting another child of God is never the answer, as justified and effective as it may seem, but a faithful response only comes to us when we pause, enter that dynamic trinitarian discernment dance, and listen.

Bp. Jos offered one more bit of wisdom I’ll share with you today because it speaks to the letter to the Corinthians which reminds us that we are all one. Bp. Jos said that as a bishop in the church, he has the authority to tell his flock who they can hate, so he gives them permission to hate any person who is not created by God.

On that first Pentecost, the disciples were speaking to people from many nations, races, and languages, people who practiced religion, and people who didn’t, men and women, slaves and free people. God didn’t ask them to speak only to those worthy to hear, or qualified to hear, or even to those ready to hear.

God's guidance was: speak to the people I have brought near to you and watch me act through your faithfulness. So, they did… and all who were gathered could hear and understand the good news being spoken to them. No one could explain how it happened, only that it did happen.

Our dismissal every Sunday sends us into the world as it is today, to continue the work of reconciliation by the forgiveness of sin, begun by Jesus. We will confront some things those first disciples encountered, like the horrible treatment of immigrants. We will also confront things they never imagined, like the cruel treatment of LGBTQIA2S+ people.

Image by Hildgard of Bingen:
God, Cosmos, and Humanity, 1150 AD

Yet, God has been at work in the world all along, guiding us to widen the circle of love to include all those whom God has made, to speak love to all God brings near to us. We can expect the pushback to continue from those who call themselves Christian yet openly justify hating and killing other children of God. They won’t like it when we speak this good news, but we’ll keep speaking it anyway, trusting God to be present in the dynamic trinitarian dance and work through our faithfulness bringing God’s plan of redeeming love ever closer to its completion.

Peace be with you. (The people respond: And also with you.) And there we have the perfect example of a reflexive spiritual response born of practice in community. Amen.