9th Pentecost, 2021-B: Divine provision

Lectionary: 2 Samuel 11:1-15; Psalm 14; Ephesians 3:14-21; John 6:1-21 

En el nombre del Dios qué es Trinidad en unidad. Amen. 

 In my work facilitating with churches, there are two realities my partner, Martin, and I remind churches of: 1) Baptism: God is always with us; and 2) Communion: the abundance of grace, wisdom, insight, and joy that results from intentionally connecting ourselves to God. 

While providing a means for discerning and clarifying a church’s divine purpose and listening for the ways God is guiding them to live that out, I spend a lot of time reminding the faithful to get out of their heads and into their hearts. 

If we could think our way through life, we wouldn’t need faith or God. But we can’t. With all of our gifts of intellect and experience, we must, in all humility, remember that “our thoughts are not God’s thoughts, nor our ways God’s ways” to paraphrase the prophet, Isaiah. (55:8)

Our goal, then, as people of God, is always to have our heads, that is, our thoughts, connected to our hearts, where God is continually speaking to us, individually and as a church community. This is the gift of our Baptism, and what the epistle writer refers to as being “rooted and grounded in love.” It is in this state we can “know the love of Christ that surpasses [mere human] knowledge.”

I have the privilege of witnessing how often churches are surprised by how much grace, mercy, and faithfulness God is always offering, even in what seems like the worst of earthly circumstances. When we make space for God in all of our planning and doing as individuals and as a church, God works in us, and we “accomplish abundantly far more” than we could ever have asked or imagined.

God loves us so much more than we can fathom – all of us, all of humanity – and is ready to provide all we need to establish peace, harmony, and unity on the earth, as it is in heaven. This is affirmed for us in today’s gospel story of the lavishness of divine provision: the feeding of the five thousand.

This story harkens back to the story of Elisha who fed 100 people with 10 barley loaves and some grain. Elisha’s men doubted how such a small amount of food could feed so many people, but Elisha told them that Yahweh had promised there would be enough and even some leftover – and there was.

In the gospel story, there were even more people to feed and less food to give them. Jesus used the opportunity to test his disciples, who would have known the story of Elisha. Rather than trusting God, however, the disciples tried to figure out how they could feed the crowds, only to realize that they couldn’t.

Jesus wasn’t disappointed with them for resorting to their default – their own thoughts. This test was his gift to them to free them from the limits their thinking put on their faith. If we allow it, this story frees us too.

Taking the offering of insufficient earthly food, Jesus blessed it and gave it to his disciples to give to the people. Do you hear the Eucharistic language in this?

John tells us that everyone who ate was satisfied. Clearly, they weren’t using those little wafers we use for Holy Eucharist. :)  In fact, the bread in this Communion was barley loaf – the food of the poor.

When the people had eaten and were satisfied, the disciples gathered up what was leftover, and it filled 12 baskets. As you know, the number 12 is symbolic and refers to the 12 tribes of Israel – the people of God.

 

The image is of containers (baskets) holding new people - people whom God brought to be fed – and it included women and children, sinners, and maybe even some Gentiles.

I imagine some present would have been unhappy about including everyone gathered on the grass. Some of them probably wouldn’t have been deemed worthy of the resources they were using up, yet Jesus fed them all - an important lesson for our time.

After feeding the crowds, Jesus withdrew by himself to the mountain. “Mountain” is Bible-talk for the prayerful place where God’s will is revealed.

Jesus must have stayed in prayer for a very long time because the disciples finally decided to leave for home without him. They got about halfway across the lake and the wind picked up, making their journey difficult and dangerous. Do you hear the symbolism? 

The community of disciples are on a vessel in the Sea of Galilee. John says it was dark, and he’s speaking of spiritual darkness not just the absence of daylight. John describes a wild wind, which is symbolic for the Holy Spirit of God, blowing where it wills, stirring up the water, making it rough.

Like the creation story in Genesis, where God calmed the chaos waters of the earth, in John’s gospel story, Jesus, the Incarnate God, calms the chaos waters in hearts of his followers; and he does it by speaking a powerful phrase: “It is I” he says, (in Greek, ego eimi – which means I AM). 

I AM is how God self-identifies in Scripture: to Abraham saying, “I AM the Lord (Gen 15:7), to Jacob saying, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father;” (Gen 28:13); and to Moses saying, “I AM who I AM. Tell them I AM sent you." (Ex 3:14) In this gospel, Jesus is claiming his divine identity saying, I AM here – don’t be afraid.

Yet, it’s true that when we draw near to the presence of God and our hubris gives way to true humility the experience is, at first, terrifying, just as it was for the disciples. It’s terrifying because the illusion that we have control of and power over our lives, crumbles. It’s terrifying because we realize that we have been standing in the place of God in our lives and ministries and how very foolish and dangerous that is. It’s terrifying because what we were so sure we knew about God, ourselves, our church, our future, is washed away in the power of the presence of the living God.

That’s when Jesus comes to us and calms the fearful storms in our hearts saying “I Am here” (ego eimi). Don’t be afraid.”

Like the disciples, the minute we invite Jesus into our vessel, whether that vessel is ourselves or our church, we find that we’ve arrived at the place we were trying to go. We’re standing on dry land, in the presence of our Savior, who grounds us and roots us in love.

It’s comforting that the apostles, who actually saw Jesus perform his many miracles, were still prone to moments of spiritual darkness. Those moments are to be embraced, not avoided or feared because it is in the dark spaces that God seeds and roots new life in us.

Like the disciples, we’re a faithful group, beloved of God, but we aren’t immune from moments of spiritual darkness and trouble – and thanks be to God for that – because those moments are a gift. They remind us that we believe that God is always with us and that God can take our insufficiencies and work miracles with them.

Let us pray… God of love and mercy, we seek your presence; not because you are ever absent from us but because we are often absent from you. Open our eyes to the reality of your presence in and among us, that we may enjoy the abundance of grace, wisdom, insight, and joy you continually offer us. In true humility, we offer our hearts and minds to be connected in you, so that in every moment we may know you, feel you, hear you, and heed you. In Jesus’ holy name we pray. Amen.

7th Pentecost, 21-B: In small and big ways

 Lectionary: 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19; Psalm 24; Ephesians 1:3-14; Mark 6:14-29 

En el nombre del Dios, que es Trinidad en unidad. Amen. 

In today’s gospel, Mark inserts a flashback on the death of John the Baptizer between the stories of the sending of the twelve disciples on their first mission journey and the story of their return and report from their time out there. It’s a strange insertion in that it is very detailed, right down to the conversation between Herodias and her daughter, whom some believe was Salome.

What was Mark’s purpose? I wasn’t able to find any satisfactory answers from the commentaries, except for the accepted idea that it was to elucidate the cost of being a follower of Jesus. But John wasn’t a follower of Jesus. He preceded Jesus to prepare the way for him.

If I were to posit why Mark inserted this right here, I’d say this flashback also was a foreshadowing of what we who are sent by Jesus will find in the world.

In his time, Jesus’ ministry was growing, and that was making Herod nervous. Jesus was becoming even bigger than John was and John’s success had scared Herod into protecting John. Now Jesus, who was also a righteous and holy man, had a following that was even bigger than John’s and the tetrarch was scared of what that would mean for him.

Mark is also foreshadowing the way the kingdoms of earth and heaven would interface. There are three things we can notice here. First, Mark shows how pride, revenge, power, and politics act when confronting the kingdom of God - and it isn’t pretty.

In this story, Herod gets caught up in a party, responding to a child’s dance. It’s important to note that the word used for this child is the same word used for the little girl Jesus raised from the dead saying “Talitha cum” which means she was very young.

This also had incestuous implications since the little girl was Herod’s niece, cousin, and step-daughter. Her father was Herod’s half-brother and her mother was his wife and his cousin. It’s no wonder John had been openly critical.

Then the morally corrupt Herod made an outlandish promise: Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it… even half of my kingdom.” When Herodias’ daughter said she wanted John the Baptist’s head, Herod was “deeply grieved.” Revenge is ugly and even the unholy Herod knew it was going to destroy a righteous and holy man, and it wounded whatever soul was in him.

Mark tells us that “out of regard for his oaths” Herod did as Herodias’ daughter asked. I don’t think Herod was as much motivated by honor as by his impotence to respond to circumstances he created while also saving face and whatever life he had left. His wife wanted this, and his people would see him as weak if he backed off, so he ordered John’s execution.

Mark also demonstrates that sometimes it will seem like corrupt leaders are having their way destroying all that is good and fair and righteous. When that happens, Mark shows how we are to respond. When they learned of his beheading, John’s followers “came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.” They did what was right by the one unjustly murdered, but they did not act violently in response to the violence of the world.

That’s a hard lesson for the followers of Jesus to learn and practice. Innocent people still die at the hands of corrupt and unholy earthly systems. We believe, however, that despite what it looks like at any moment, the plan of God is in place, and God is already acting to redeem all that has gone awry.

That doesn’t mean we sit idly by while God fixes things. On the contrary, we are called to be co-creators with God, partners in God’s continuing work of redemption and reconciliation. Together we can make heaven present on earth in small and big ways.

As the author of the letter to the Ephesians reminds us, we have been lavished with grace, wisdom, and insight by God who, “according to his good pleasure… set forth in Christ a plan.” That plan will happen in God’s time but the goal is plain: “to gather up all things in [Christ], things in heaven and things on earth.” In other words, the reconciliation of the whole world to God.

He goes on to say that “we, who… set our hope on Christ” are to “live for the praise of his glory” a phrase he repeats twice. As I read this portion of the letter, I have a picture in my mind of our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, stepping out of his pulpit, arms waving, as he pivots first this way then that, dancing and singing, like David did, this hymn of praise, bringing honor to God and to the church.

I’m no ++Michael Curry, but I, too, have a song of praise to share. We all do! Here’s some of the Good News we have to share: 

We who set our hope on Christ have been marked and sealed by the Holy Spirit! The blood of Jesus runs through our veins infusing our earthly bodies with divine life. We have been lavished with grace, wisdom, and insight so that we can be co-creators with God, vessels who carry God’s healing love into the world. Our God is a God of mercy who hears the cries of those who suffer, including our animal kin and even the earth itself, and Jesus sends us out now just as he sent those first disciples– with power over unclean spirits.

How do we understand and relate to unclean spirits today? “Unclean” refers to that which is immoral, dishonest, corrupt, or unfair. According to my Greek Bible, “spirit” refers to “That which is recognized by its operations or manifestations, as it is seen in life.” (E.W. Bullinger)

So, where are these unclean spirits in our time? 

Here are just a few: 

In Columbia and cities across the U.S., we can’t miss the reality of homelessness and the overall neglect of persons suffering from mental illness and PTSD who live on the streets. I regularly see plastic drink bottles filled with urine discarded on our city streets and I wonder… while we seek ways to deal with the larger issue of homelessness, why don’t we at least provide public bathrooms and showers for their basic human needs? 

Last week as we celebrated our Independence Day, my Facebook page was covered with pictures of people trying to keep calm their pets who were terrified by the fireworks. My email had been receiving notices for weeks about the damaging effects of fireworks on animal life, especially birds (and y’all know how I love my birds!). I continue to wonder why, if we have silent fireworks, we keep using the ones that sound like bombs going off? We all know the havoc they wreak on our animal kin.

Finally, the U.N. is warning that the number of people worldwide who starve to death each year, about 9 million people, may double due to the pandemic and they’re asking wealthier countries to help. This, while a couple of billionaires vie for the personal victory of being the first to go into space.

Every age has its unclean spirits. Thankfully, we make vows to step in and address those in our time and place. In our sacrament of Baptism, we renounce “the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God.” (BCP, 302) An evil power is anything that causes suffering, division, or increased labor on those less powerful than they. The institution of slavery in the US comes to mind, the vestiges of which continue to impact our African American sisters and brothers today.

We also vow to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. That gives us so much latitude to be who God made us to be, individually and collectively, and to lavish on those around us: people, animal kin, and even the earth itself, the graces God has already lavished on us.

We can make an impact on how the kingdoms of heaven and earth interface today in small and big ways. As individuals and as a church, all we need to do is continually call upon God that we “may know and understand what things [we] ought to do, and… have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them.”

I close with this prayer from our Confirmation Rite: 

 “Almighty God, we thank you that by the death and resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ you have overcome sin and brought us to yourself, and that by the sealing of your Holy Spirit you have bound us to your service… Send us forth in the power of the Spirit to perform the service you set before us; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.” (BCP, 309, adapted)

6th Pentecost, 21-B: We believe...

Lectionary: 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Psalm 48; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13 

En el nombre del Dios, que es Trinidad an unidad. Amen.

As Christians, we call ourselves believers, but what do we mean by that? The simple answer is that we believe that God is Trinity in Unity and that Jesus, who is the second person of the Trinity, is the Savior. But again, what does that mean?

Jesus is God Incarnate, the one through whom all things were made. Taking on flesh and living in a body like ours, Jesus was born, ate, slept, walked, laughed, loved, suffered, and died just like we do.

After the death of his body, Jesus was resurrected, enabling us to see what resurrection looks like. Then he breathed his divine Spirit on us. Now the Spirit of God occupies our bodies. The Spirit of God occupies our bodies…

Do we truly believe and experience that as we live our daily lives? Do we talk about those experiences? Mostly not, at least not the experiences that fall outside acceptable parameters.

My first experience of God was as a mother holding me in her lap, whispering love and comfort to me as terrible things were happening to my body by a gang of neighborhood boys. God held me in a warm embrace outside of my body and told me she was my Mother, and promised me I would be OK.

When I shared this experience, I was scolded for calling God “Mother.” It was made abundantly clear to me that calling God “Mother” fell outside of acceptable parameters. If I had experienced a mother, they said, it must have been Mary, Jesus’ mother. I was informed that I misunderstood my experience, which was understandable for a 4-year-old, they said.

But God continued to come to me as Mother and I learned not to talk about it. Even as a little child, I knew “they” were wrong, that God is my Mother, and that she was choosing to stay in continual relationship with me. I believed it then and I believe it now.

God, my Mother, is alive and active, gentle, loving, fiercely protective, and powerful. God, my Mother, connects me to people, to creation, and to the company of heaven in real, actual, and healing ways. I have grown in this manifest love all my life because I believe God is with me. I know it in the very cells of my body, the core of my heart, and the depth of my mind.

David believed too. He knew God would protect him from Goliath and prepare him to be King of Israel. And as king, “David became greater and greater for the Lord, God of hosts, was with him.”

Paul believed and spoke of his encounter with God as if it happened to someone else. Whether that was out of a newfound humility or because he knew it fell outside of acceptable parameters, I don’t know.

Paul spoke of being snatched away - in his body or out of it, he didn’t know, but God knew – to a place where God and the heavenly beings were – paradise. The third heaven he called it - three being a symbolic number signifying perfection, completion, and the action of God.

In that place, he heard things that cannot be spoken about in human terms. There are simply no words that can convey the fullness, power, and truth of what he experienced.

Paul couldn’t boast of this experience. Having been in the presence of God and the heavenly host, he realized the truth of his smallness and dependence on God’s love and care. He also recognized the truth that God can and will fill our weakness with divine power for the healing and reconciliation of the world.

The power of God’s spirit flowing through us can lead us to the temptation of thinking we’re just that great. We’re such a good and faithful believer that powerful happen because of us. Thinking like that will lead us to sin – to relying on ourselves (in all our success) rather than on God, trusting our own judgment rather than continually discerning and responding to God’s will.

So, Paul also shares that he has a thorn in his side, something that pricks his ego - or maybe his body, or his spirit – we don’t know since he never said. This thorn, whatever it is, reminds Paul that it is God’s power, God’s love, God’s success happening, not his own.

On the plus side, the thorn also reminds Paul that God is always with him, so whatever insults or hardships, persecutions or calamities he experiences, he knows God in Christ is there; and having experienced the power of God’s eternal, loving presence in paradise (whether in his body or out of it - he doesn’t know, but God does), Paul knows with a deep knowing that his weakness is where Christ dwells, therefore, he is strong. Paul believed and became greater and greater because God was with him.

Believing isn’t just about accepting the veracity of certain information or events. It isn’t even hoping that what we’ve heard is true. Belief is deeply knowing and experiencing the presence of God in Christ in the very cells of our bodies, the core of our hearts, and the depths of our minds.

Our gospel story today demonstrates the contrast between belief and unbelief. When Jesus went to his hometown, he met unbelief. Even though the people had seen his miraculous works of healing and heard his astounding teachings, they couldn’t get past what they thought they knew about him – he was Mary’s son. We know his brothers and sisters. Who does he think he is? “And they took offense at him.”

Recognizing their unbelief, Jesus named it and walked on. Mark says he could do no deed of power there except a few healings.

What do you think of that statement? Is God hampered by our unbelief?

Yes and no. God can do anything God wants, obviously, but God always acts out of love for us. That love gives us free will, the freedom to accept or reject God’s love and grace.

That statement is about moral power. Out of love for us, God won’t force anything on us – not even healing and wholeness, so Jesus had to just walk on, amazed that they would make such a choice.

The next story is a story of belief. Jesus sends his disciples out two by two - two being a number that symbolizes divine/human complementarity. It is also symbolic of witness. God acting through them would be witnessed by them.

Jesus orders the disciples to take nothing with them: no money, no food, and no extra clothes. They must wear sandals, a symbol of poverty, and carry a staff – harkening to Moses who healed the people from snake bites by holding up his staff.

Well, to be accurate, God healed them. Moses simply did as God asked and witnessed the power of divine love in action. And that’s the point Jesus is making.

Their purpose is to preach, teach, and be the vessel of God’s divine love in action. If they meet belief, Jesus says, they are to stay where they find it. If they meet unbelief as Jesus did in Galilee, they are to walk on.

Mark tells us that the teams of two went out and healed those suffering from diseases of all kinds: mental, physical, and spiritual. To be accurate, the disciples didn’t heal anyone. God was with them and because they believed, the power of divine love healed through them.

God always works beyond the acceptable parameters of any age. Why does that surprise us? It’s God, after all.

If we believe, if we know and experience the presence of God in Christ in the very cells of our bodies, the core our hearts, and the depths of our minds, God will work through us too. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, we will be united to one another with pure affection and those who are suffering from diseases of all kinds - personal, societal, and global - will be healed.

Let us pray… Holy God, we believe that your Spirit dwells in us. That scares us a little because you are too much for us to understand. Make us, we pray, vessels of your divine love. Help us to own the gifts you have given us and guide us on how to use them for your glory, the welfare of your people, and the healing of the world. We believe and we commit to sharing our belief, our Good News, as you lead us to do, in the name of Jesus, who is the Christ. Amen.

4th Pentecost, 21-B: Reason to rejoice

Lectionary: 1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49; Psalm 9:9-20; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41 

Last week I talked about feeling drowned in an ocean of love. Today our readings take us to the other side of that coin – feeling drowned in a storm. Most of us can recall many times we felt like we were in the midst of a “storm” in our lives and, like the disciples, called out: “Lord, do you not care that we are…” perishing, hurting, trapped, scared… The Good News in this gospel is that our faith assures us that God is always there with us, knows what’s happening, how it’s affecting us, and is already acting to redeem. 

The reality is sometimes God doesn’t swoop in and calm the storm. When we pray like the Psalmist does, “Have pity on me, O Lord; see the misery I suffer…” and the storm rages on, we may wonder where is God? Are we not worthy or praying right?

Sometimes we know and can feel the presence of God in the midst of the storm. Other times it isn’t until we look back that we can see God had been there with us, carrying us through. At all times, it is truly a matter of our faith – our trust in God, God’s promises, and our great value to God.

We know that the plan of redemption, the reconciliation of the whole world to God, is still in progress. The created world and all of us in it, haven’t yet reached the divine goal of unity and harmony. There will, therefore, be storms within and without, but just like in the creation story in Genesis, God continues to calm the chaos waters and establish peace and safety for the created.

For now, the world can be a scary place. Weather storms can ravage our sense of safety, destroy our homes, and remind us of how small and powerless we humans really are. News stories tell us how human enemies of all kinds threaten our peace with personal and national violence. We hear about or experience how easy it is for hackers to steal our personal identities, shut down governmental processes, and disrupt the rhythms of our lives.

In response to this sense of vulnerability, people have sought ways to establish a sense of safety for themselves against the potential storms of life: preppers with their underground shelters stocked with food and ammunition, companies selling online security against identity theft. But in the end, we’re still vulnerable.

Steve and I have had our identity stolen several times over the last few years. One thief even tithed what they stole from us, offering $600 to a Christian charity from the $6,000 they stole by cloning our credit card! And just this past week my church email was hacked - again.

On a side note: be assured that I will never ask for money for myself or a ministry by email. Episcopal priests don’t do that. We use the proper channels for such a request: the vestry and the treasurer. If you get an email that looks like it’s from me, don’t call the number they provide, don’t open any links, don’t buy any gift cards, and – please – don’t send any money!

As I mentioned in our newsletter, people have found ways to steal and swindle throughout the ages. That stems from the ‘me-first’ mindset that is the opposite of everything Jesus taught us and the opposite of what our tradition offers: thou shalt not covet, steal, or kill.

Historically, political or military domination have been, and continue to be, a major threat to our communal safety. In personal relationships, domination always points to abuse.

One young man I know worked out until he looked like Michelangelo’s sculpture of Hercules, and he was as strong as he was beautiful. When asked about it, though, he admitted that his goal was to be able to “beat up” anyone who threatened him. It didn’t work. The someone who attacked and nearly destroyed him used brains, not brawn, identifying and exploiting his emotional vulnerabilities.

In today’s Old Testament reading, David takes a similar approach against Goliath, who was a Philistine, and therefore an archenemy of the Jewish people. Goliath is huge, well protected by armor, experienced in battle, and unmatched in his javelin and personal combat skills. He believes David, a scrawny, sheep-herding kid with no battle skills who refused to wear armor and carried only a slingshot, would be an easy victory.

In those days, wars between countries could be decided by a single fight between men. This was one of those times, so the stakes were high. Saul warns David that he’s no match for Goliath and David’s response was golden: “The LORD, who saved me [as a shepherd] from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear, will save me from the hand of this Philistine.”

That’s why this story is so appealing. The scrawny underdog runs into the battle, stands up to the giant bully, claims victory in the name of God, and fells his opponent with a single rock shot from his slingshot.

David knew and trusted that God was with him, that God had sent him on this mission, so he ran into the thick of it with his only battle skill: a slingshot. As it turned out, it was enough.

Our meager gifts are enough too – especially when taken together as a community of faith. All churches will experience storms, some worse than others. When that happens, it is our faith that God is with us that will carry us through, because we know God has a purpose for us.

The church can and should be (if you ask me) where we learn the spiritual disciplines and prayer practices that enable us to respond faithfully like David did: certain of God’s presence and calling, to run into the storm before us and open a path for God’s redemptive love to act.

Whatever storms the church faces, we are enabled to respond using worship, Scripture, tradition, and reason. Right now, the church is being attacked by those who co-opt our Christian identity and use it to foment hate and division; and they practice a kind of coercive control God has never asserted over us.

As followers of the one who spoke peace to the wind and the waves, we are called to respond with holiness of spirit and genuine love in the face of affliction and hardship, with patience and kindness amid calamities, and with continual rejoicing even when we are in sorrow. As St. Paul reminds us, when we have lost everything, we have lost nothing that matters, because we have everything when we have faith in God who created us, loves and sustains us, and gives us purpose.

In the beginning, when chaos waters covered the earth, God brought order to the chaos, creating the firmament, the land, and all that dwelled therein. When Jesus calmed the chaos waters of the Sea of Galilee, he was doing what only God can do, and those who witnessed it were filled with reverence and awe at the sight of it.

Whatever chaos we experience, whatever our storms, Jesus is with us, doing what only God can do. We don’t have to be worthy or strong or well-armed because we are beloved, redeemed, and sanctified by God. 

The ultimate grace of God is the gift of life itself, and God’s presence in us, through Jesus, our Emmanuel. For that we rejoice continually.

I close with a prayer from Steven Charleston, retired Episcopal bishop and member of the Choctaw nation. He posted this prayer on his Facebook page last Tuesday: 

 “Still I will rejoice and give thanks. No matter how difficult my life may be at the moment, no matter what may come in the days ahead, still I will rejoice and give thanks. I have been blessed by the gift of life. I have been given my chance to walk this beautiful Earth, to see its wonders and learn its hidden wisdom. I have loved and been loved. How can I be anything but grateful? How can I not offer my thanks to the Spirit? As a family in faith, each with our own story to tell, each with our own burden to bear, let us offer this common message of hope, of renewal and resolve, to all who struggle: no matter what tomorrow may bring, still I will rejoice and give thanks.” 

Amen and amen.

3rd Pentecost, 2021-B: Called, equipped, and sent

Lectionary: 1 Samuel 15:34-16:13; Psalm 20; 2 Corinthians 5:6-10,14-17; Mark 4:26-34 

En el nombre del Dios, que es Trinidad en unidad. Amen.

I have had the privilege of experiencing being drenched in what felt like an ocean of love – not just once, but many times in different stages of my life. I remember feeling it as a child when my Puerto Rican grandmother and I would do needlework together; when my Irish grandfather walked me home from school sporting his Shillelagh stick which I believed could fend off any threat.

I remember feeling it when my husband and I exchanged our wedding vows and each time I held my newborn child for the first time or watched him hold them. I remember feeling it when my family kneeled at the communion rail to receive my blessing as a newly ordained priest.

It’s a feeling that is at once fulfilling and disorienting. My experiences of love have changed my life. They have changed my world. That’s what love does – it changes lives and it changes the world.

It continually amazes me that we have been invited by the author of all love to share this amazing, fulfilling, disorienting experience with others, to scatter it like seeds upon the ground.

In the first parable in our gospel today, Jesus describes the kingdom of God being as if someone scatters seeds upon the ground. That someone is us – the Greek word used there means “human.”

We scatter the seeds of divine love. While we sleep and while we wake, God is doing the work of bringing the seeds we scatter to stalk, then to fruit. When the fruit is ready, we are sent to harvest it.

After all of these years preaching this parable, this is the first time I was led to notice that the Greek verb in this phrase translated as: “goes in” ...with the sickle, is actually the word for apostle (apostellō). An apostle is one who is commissioned, that is, equipped and sent on a mission.

God creates seeds of love and gives them to us to scatter in the world. Then we wait while God grows those seeds to their maturity and they become a resource that can nourish and heal the world. When that happens, God sends us to collect those resources and put them to use in the world.

This has to be the most perfect description of Christian discipleship I think I’ve ever encountered - an unending cycle of love begetting love. We are the fruit of the seed someone else sowed long ago. We were nourished by God until we were ready to bear fruit for God’s kingdom. Then we were collected up and sent by our sower to become scatterers of the seeds ourselves – and the process repeats from generation to generation.

The other parable in our gospel focuses on the seed itself. The seed, Jesus says, is like a mustard seed. In God’s care, this tiny seed becomes the greatest of all herbs with large, strong branches that provide safety and comfort for other creatures and creation itself.

I learned from my Puerto Rican grandmother the importance of knowing the properties of herbs, earth medicine as she called it, and have spent time learning and studying them. The seeds and flowers of the mustard plant are bright yellow and as spicy as the color implies. We know it as prepared mustard: ground seeds mixed with vinegar, for use on hot dogs and hamburgers, but this herb has been used for centuries as an antiseptic, to boost a faltering appetite, to soothe inflammation and swelling, and as a decongestant bath for colds. 

Rich in vitamins A, B-complex, and C, mustard greens offer a variety of health benefits from immune system strengthening to heart, lung, and kidney health. Agriculturally, mustard seeds, which can grow in wastelands as well as in gardens, are planted to cleanse and restore pastures.

That’s a lot of benefit from a tiny herb – which is part of the point of the parable. In God’s love, this tiny herb can produce far-reaching fruits that benefit all that God has created: us, our animal kin, and even the earth we share. Who knew such a tiny seed could have so much to offer?

We have the benefit of scientific research that explicates exactly what the benefits of this ancient herb are, but that doesn’t help us to be any more or less faithful than those who don’t know the science behind it, because behind the science – before, after, and in the science - is the plan of God. Knowledge is helpful, but being aware of and faithful to God’s call to us, what I call our divine purpose, is what really matters.

In this parable, we are the sower and we are the seed. The divine purpose of the sower is to scatter the seeds and collect the fruit when sent. The divine purpose of the seed is to be transformed into a resource for the healing and nourishing of the world.

As we can see from our OT reading, when we stray from our divine purpose, we do harm to ourselves, to others, and to creation. After Samuel anointed Saul as king, Saul was corrupted by the power of his kingship and God’s people were suffering, so God told Samuel to go anoint another king.

As instructed, Samuel visits Jesse the Bethlehemite. As Jesse presents son after son, God cautions Samuel against making judgments from a human perspective reminding us all that our sight and knowledge are limited.

David, the youngest, least respected, least qualified son wasn’t there, so Samuel asked for him to be brought to them. When David arrives, Samuel hears the voice of God choose him and anoints David right then and there.

It would be some time before David would actually take the throne. There would be a time of waiting first, while the divine seed, who was David, could be brought to maturity so that he could bear fruit for the kingdom. As we know, David led Israel to a period of lasting prosperity, regional power, and peace.

Like David, each of us is called, equipped, and sent according to God’s plan for us. Since we know that our knowledge and understanding are limited we must not judge the value of anyone’s divine purpose – even our own – and no one is in a position to say ‘my purpose is better than yours.’ As silly and juvenile as that sounds, it pervades our human experience. Hierarchies are contrived from this notion, and it is the root of classism, racism, sexism, all the -isms.

Diversity, on the other hand, is a divine gift and Pride month offers us the perfect opportunity to remember and celebrate that. As St. Paul reminds us, we must not regard anyone from a human point of view because Christ has died and is risen. Now every one of us is a new creation in him… “for we are convinced that one has died for all.” …for all.

We are the current step in God’s action plan of love. By scattering the particular seeds of love God has given us, we also are letting go the potential outcomes we want or expect in favor of the outcomes God has in mind.

In the meantime, we trust God, scatter the seeds we are given, then wait… and watch… listening for God’s prompting to us to go harvest the fruit, then putting that fruit - the resources God has created - to work in the world for the benefit of all. 

That is how love changes lives. That is how love changes the world. Amen.

2 Pentecost, 21-B: Choose to love

 

Lectionary: 1 Samuel 8:4-11, (12-15), 16-20, (11:14-15); Psalm 138; 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1; Mark 3:20-35 

Our lectionary today presents us with a wonderful opportunity to delve deeply into the topics of sin and forgiveness in the context of the identity and ministry of Jesus, the Christ.

In our Old Testament lesson, Samuel is old and ready to stop being the prophet and spiritual leader of the people of Israel. His sons, however, aren’t faithful and the people don’t want them to take over after Samuel, so they demand Samuel anoint a king for them. The countries all around them had kings and now they wanted one too.

This cut Samuel to the quick because he felt like it was an indictment against his leadership. God is their only king and Samuel had led them as a servant of God.

God intervenes in Samuel’s suffering, however, and assures him that it is God they are rejecting, not Samuel or his leadership. Warn them, God says, knowing they will do what they choose.

In the end, they chose to have a king so, against his better judgment, Samuel brought them all to Gilgal, the place where the Israelites celebrated their first Passover after crossing the Jordan into the promised land. Gilgal had become for them an important place of memorial and pilgrimage where they often gathered to remember what God had done for them. It was at this sacred site that Samuel anointed Saul as their king.

Samuel thought their desire for a king was sinful. Our Prayer Book would affirm Samuel’s concern. Our Catechism defines sin as “the seeking of our own will instead of the will of God, thus distorting our relationship with God, with other people, and with all creation.” (BCP, 848) If sin is the choice to seek our own will instead of God’s, then the actions that result from that choice are the evidence of sin, not the sin itself.

Our choice to sin causes a disruption of the relationships we have with God, one another, and the world. When we see the effects of that choice, we are called to repent and return to righteousness, that is, to right relationship.

That is what the Law of Moses (the 10 Commandments) was meant to do. It is not simply a codified set of behavioral controls, but a means of guiding us back to right relationship by showing us the evidence of our sin – showing us what it looks like when we have gone astray in our faithfulness. It looks like stealing from someone, killing them, coveting what they have, dishonoring them, their family, or God, etc. When we see that happening, we know we need to repent.

We talked at Bible study this week about the commandment to keep holy the Sabbath day. If we aren’t keeping any day holy, if we aren’t setting aside time to restore our relationships with God, one another, and the world, then we are sinning - actively or passively choosing to separate ourselves from God and our faith community. The effects of that choice eventually will be seen in our actions. Seeing the evidence of our sin opens up for us the opportunity to repent, to seek or offer forgiveness, to be reconciled with God and one another.

In our gospel story today, Jesus issues a scary warning: “whoever blasphemes the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin…” He said this in response to those who said that he, Jesus, has an unclean spirit and did his amazing work by the power of Satan.

Jesus quickly dismisses their claim by pointing out the irrationality of the adversary working in Jesus or anyone else to destroy itself. But his next phrase, “Truly I tell you…” indicates this is what they (and we) really need to pay attention to because it’s important.

Jesus states very plainly that people will be forgiven their sins, but (he says) the one who reviles the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness…” I often hear this discussed as meaning that this is the one sin God won’t forgive, but what exactly that sin is, isn’t terribly clear, so it leaves many of us wondering how to avoid committing this unforgivable sin.

Let’s consider, for a moment, who Jesus is. We believe that Jesus is the full and perfect revelation of God. And what is the nature of God he revealed? According to our Catechism, the answer is: God is love (BCP, 849). We believe that God is love and that Jesus brought salvation by the forgiveness of our sins.

Interpreting Jesus’ statement in our gospel, then, as something God does – withholding forgiveness - misses the point. Jesus is very clear that people will be forgiven their sins – even the blasphemies we utter. But, he says, the one who separates from God, the one who reviles or denounces God – that one can’t have forgiveness, not because God won’t give it, but because they can’t receive it.

This is what happens when we separate from God, the source of our life. The more separated we become the more “other” God becomes to us and the more likely we will hesitate to repent, to change our direction, and reorient toward God.

We begin to fear God whom we no longer know intimately. Our fear furthers our sense of separation and the process goes on and on.

Also, the longer we are separated from God the more we wonder if God would allow us to reconcile even if we wanted to, aware as we are of the hubris that led us to sin in the first place. When someone sins against us we tend to get mad or retaliate. It makes sense to us that God would do the same.

That’s why Jesus’ statement is so comforting: we will be forgiven. That’s God’s to do and it’s been done. We have been saved by the forgiveness of our sins through Jesus Christ who has reconciled us to God.

We celebrate this truth every Sunday. This altar is our Gilgal – the place of our pilgrimage, where we gather to remember what God has done for us. As we say in our Eucharistic Prayer: “We celebrate the memorial of our redemption, O Father, in this sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving.” (BCP, 363)

Then we ask God to sanctify us that “we may faithfully receive [the] holy Sacrament, and serve [God] in unity, constancy, and peace. This is when we make the choice to open ourselves to receive the gift being given to us.

In the same way that Jesus said the world is wrong about sin, we’re also often wrong about forgiveness. I share with you from the world’s current fount of wisdom on forgiveness: Archbishop Desmond Tutu:

“Forgiveness,” he says, “is not dependent on the actions of others. Yes, it is certainly easier to offer forgiveness when the perpetrator expresses remorse and offers some sort of reparation or restitution. Then, you can feel as if you have been paid back in some way. You can say: "I am willing to forgive you for stealing my pen, and after you give me my pen back, I shall forgive you." This is the most familiar pattern of forgiveness.” But, Tutu says, we “don't forgive to help the other person. We don't forgive for others. We forgive for ourselves…”

I would add that the reason is: it is only by forgiveness that relationships can be restored and we can be reconciled.

“Forgiveness,” Tutu says, “takes practice, honesty, open-mindedness and a willingness… to try. It isn't easy…” but until “we can forgive,” Tutu says, “we remain locked in our pain and locked out of the possibility of experiencing healing and freedom, locked out of the possibility of being at peace.” Source. 

“From the beginning,” our Catechism says, “humans have misused their freedom and made wrong choices.” (BCP, 845) We all make personal choices to sin, but we also live in a global family where the evidence of our collective sin is plain. Whether we actively choose to sin or passively allow sin we see evidence of to continue is also our choice.

The good news is that we are made in the image of God and we have been redeemed, that is, set free to make choices that reflect the image of God, who is love, and who dwells in us.

That’s why it’s so important to pray and to lean in when we see the evidence of sin and bring the presence of the Spirit of God, who dwells in us, into that circumstance, into that relationship, so that all can be restored and reconciled.

We don’t always get to see the healing and reconciliation. Sometimes that happens outside our view, maybe even in the next life. But we trust it will happen because God has promised it.

Breathe in us breath of God and inspire us to know what is your will, then guide us to do it our part in your eternal plan of redemption. As for us, may we choose to love. Amen.

Pentecost 2021-B: Love declared and shared

 

Lectionary: Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:25-35, 37; Romans 8:22-27; John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15 

En el nombre del Dios: padre, hijo, y espiritu santo. Amen.

The Episcopal Church has seven Principal Feasts, and today is one of them, which is why we transfer it from Thursday, if we don’t celebrate it on that day, to Sunday. It’s a date the church wants us to notice and celebrate together. 

Of the seven Principal Feasts, four are about God: Jesus’ birth at Christmas, his resurrection at Easter, his Ascension, and the nature of the triune God on Trinity Sunday. Two of them, All Saints and Epiphany, focus on us humans.

Pentecost is both. Today we celebrate the moment the Holy Spirit entered the mortal bodies of Jesus’ disciples, the first instance of how Jesus would continue his ministry of reconciliation: through us, his followers. It’s an amazing reality when you think about it.

The disciples were gathered together when suddenly they heard a sound like the rush of wind. Tongues of fire appeared and divided over them, resting upon each one of them, and they began to speak in all kinds of languages. As amazed as the disciples were by what was happening, the people outside, Jews from many nations, were perplexed. How are these Galileans suddenly able to speak in our native tongues? How indeed.

Years ago, I was a chaplain on the oncology/hematology unit of a regional hospital in south GA. One day I sat at the bedside of an elderly man, Rufus, who was dying of cancer. Rufus had no teeth and spoke with a very thick southern accent that I found nearly impossible to understand.

As he spoke, I could hear enough to know he was telling me his life story as many dying patients did. He had a 3rd grade education, something about his sisters and his grandmother… and the death of his parents when he was very young.

There I was, knowing how important it was for me to hear this man’s final words, yet feeling helpless and frustrated because I just couldn’t understand him. “Lord, give me Pentecost ears” I cried silently in prayer. “Open my ears to understand him – and hurry!”

Just as I finished praying, I literally heard what sounded like a rush of wind. My ears felt like they popped, the way they do when you’re in an airplane and they adjust to the change in pressure.

And suddenly, the man’s voice was as clear as a bell. He was talking about meeting the woman who became his wife just before he shipped off to Europe in WWII. He told me about his children, how his heart broke when his son went to prison and the joy his grandchildren and great-grandchildren brought to his life.

As he spoke, part of me was marveling at the fact that I could actually understand him. Another part of me was aware that we were experiencing a miraculous moment, a moment full of the power of the Holy Spirit.

When Rufus finished speaking, he wanted to rest, so I told him I’d sit nearby and read the Psalms to him. As he slept, I looked at this weathered, toothless, 90-something-year-old man, whose great-grandparents were slaves, and I realized, he felt in my heart like family. Though he died only 6 hours after I’d met him, I will always cherish my memory of Rufus and the Pentecost moment we shared.

The power that came upon those gathered at that first Pentecost, the power that unified Rufus and me, is the same power that comes upon us today. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr said in his 1967 speech to the Southern Christian Leadership Conference: “Power at its best is love… implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.”

Filled with this power, Peter preached to the people from “every nation under heaven” gathered in Jerusalem that they were witnessing the fulfillment of God’s promise given through the prophet Joel where God declares, “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh.” Not just male flesh, or Jewish flesh, but all flesh.

Look around you, Peter is telling them. The Holy Spirit is alighting upon all of us: Jew, Gentile, male, female, slave, free – and it’s happening now. I (Mother Valori+) declare to you today that God is still pouring God’s Spirit into all flesh: white, black, brown, Asian, gay, lesbian, straight, transgender, non-binary... all flesh.

So how do we bear this powerful love into the world today? In the gospel reading from John, Jesus gives us the way to go.

He said that the Spirit of Truth “will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment: about sin, because they do not believe in me; about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer; about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned."

Let’s unpack those three very powerful statements.

1) “…about sin because they do not believe in me.” The world today is still wrong about sin, focusing so much on our actions. But sin is about something else. We believe that in Jesus we are reconciled, that is, made one with God and one another. Sin, then is the separation of ourselves from God and one another. It is the opposite of Jesus’ work and the opposite of our call to serve him in the world.

2) “about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer…” Jesus reconciled us to God by lifting humanity up into divinity through his earthly body, establishing for evermore what our righteousness is: oneness in body and spirit with God in Christ. Righteousness involves faith in the resurrected and ascended Jesus and our acceptance of his final gift to us: his own Spirit dwelling in us.

3) “…about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned.” This word, judgment is literally translated as ‘the act of separation or sundering.’ Jesus declares that at the same time he reconciled us to himself, giving us life, he also liberated us from the power of sin and death.

Our world is crying out through so many voices, that sisters and brothers among us are in pain or afraid. So much divides us in May of 2021. This prayer from Henri Nouwen speaks well to our times: 

O Lord, awaken the consciousness of all peoples and their leaders; raise up men and women full of love and generosity who can speak and act for peace, and show us new ways in which hatred can be left behind, wounds can be healed, and unity can be restored. (Source: A Cry for Mercy)

On this feast of Pentecost, we are reminded that what matters is that we are united with God in Christ who dwells in us. As followers of Jesus and bearers of his Spirit in the world, our response is to be present to God and one another in such a way that God’s powerful love in us is declared and shared by us for the benefit of all. God will show us new ways to do this as we continue our shared ministry of reconciliation until the whole world is “restored to unity with God and each other in Christ.” (The Catechism, BCP, 855) Amen.