Sunday, June 19, 2022

2 Pentecost, 2022-C: We are Legion too

 

Lectionary: 1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a; Psalm 42 and 43; Galatians 3:23-29; Luke 8:26-39 



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

I confess that I have a complicated relationship with St. Paul, as many Christian women do. However, the particular part of Paul’s letter to the Galatians we read today is, in my opinion, one of his best, most inspired and inspiring teachings: that “in Christ Jesus [we] are all children of God through faith …There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; … all of [us] are one in Christ Jesus.”

I hear something like this pretty regularly, and I hear it as the voice of God speaking within us, and it sounds like this: Why can’t we all just get along? Why is it so hard to understand that people are people? We’re all the same – just trying to live our lives and take care of our families.

Here we are in PRIDE month working for the freedom of our LGBTQIA+ siblings who simply want to enjoy the same rights the straight community already enjoys. Today is also Juneteenth, our newest national holiday, commemorating the Emancipation Proclamation which gave freedom from slavery to African Americans.

Each generation must address whatever divides us. These are just two issues that divide us today. We have more. We’ve always had more. Humans are a divided race, and division leads to hate which leads to death and destruction of life. Jesus came to change that.

It was 7 years ago this week that a young white man walked into a Bible study at Mother Emanual Church in SC and killed 9 African Americans because he hated blacks. It was 6 years ago this week that a young white man walked into a gay bar in Orlando and killed 50 people because he hated gays, and probably Latinxs. A week ago there were mass shootings in California, Michigan, Texas, Louisiana, Colorado, and two in Indiana - killing a total of 8 people and injuring 28. This past week an old white man killed 3 people at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in AL as they enjoyed a pot luck dinner.


We have to find a different way to live together. We have to do better than this.

In his letter, St. Paul is addressing the historic divide between Jews and Gentiles who are now becoming members of the nascent Christian community: do Gentile followers of Jesus have to follow Jewish law? Paul responds that all of us are one in Christ Jesus, so nothing divides us anymore.

This isn’t an easy transition to make. We, and by that, I mean humanity, continue to fall back into the confinement of division, even codifying it into laws, generation after generation, country after country.

But we, who are followers of the Way of Jesus, are called to live differently. We are called to be reconciled to God in Christ and to one another, remembering that it is only by being reconciled to God in Christ that we can live in peace and unity with one another.

The gospel demonstrates this with an amazing story rich in symbolic language. In this story, Jesus goes to a place which is opposite of Galilee - opposite not just in location, but also in religion. Gerasa is a Gentile country.

There he comes upon a man whose description leads us to believe that he was probably mentally ill. His behavior so frightens the local community that they tied him up and put a guard on him to keep him away from them, but he regularly escapes his chains (which symbolizes sin) and escapes to the wilderness – a powerfully symbolic word for the place where we encounter God who leads us to new life.

The man is forced to live on the margins of society, stripped of his freedom and enslaved by evil, which is what his nakedness symbolizes. He was scary, strange, and to be avoided.

But Jesus doesn’t turn away when he sees this untamed person. He approaches him, and remarkably, asks his name. Names are powerful symbols in ancient Jewish culture, expressing the essential nature of a person. This man called himself “Legion” a military word that symbolizes that he has lost his true identity and is controlled by powerful, destructive forces within himself. It also refers to the Roman legions that were controlling and destroying the Israelite people.

Like the demoniac, we are Legion too – and by we, I mean humanity. There are many powerful, destructive forces that control us from within and lead us to need automatic weapons of war to feel safe in the grocery store, or to shoot African Americans in prayer, or gay siblings and allies dancing at a bar, or churchgoers sharing a meal.

As the story proceeds, the demons within this man are sent into a herd of swine which run off a cliff and drown. It’s important to remember that although Jewish culture found pigs to be abhorrent, this isn’t a story about animal cruelty or the loss of livelihood of the owners of the pigs.

Let’s think about where else we hear about drowning. I’ll give you a hint – it’s a kind of important milestone for us Christians. In Baptism we are drowned into the death of Christ to be raised into the life of Christ.

Once this man is freed from his chains and the forces of destruction within him, he is healed, and it happened in a very Baptismal way. The swineherds who witnessed this ran off to tell everyone else what they saw. When the people came and saw the man sitting there with Jesus, “clothed and in his right mind” they were “seized with fear.”

Isn’t that a strange response? Maybe, but it’s not uncommon. In 1921, when we saw African Americans thriving in their newfound freedom in what was called “Black Wall Street” we massacred them and burned their city.

When healing happens, the system around the one healed tends to try to force them back into the way it used to be so they can continue on as before – even though that way was destructive to them.

This is something taught to recovering alcoholics and survivors of domestic violence. I used to use the visual example of a baby’s crib mobile. It spins well while everyone is in their place. If one person leaves the system that exists, however, the mobile tilts and can’t spin like it did and the dysfunctional system is disrupted.

In the gospel story, the people wanted Jesus to leave. He was disrupting their system.

The healed man wanted to go with Jesus – who wouldn’t? But Jesus sent him away. If that seems cruel, hold on. There’s a purpose to it.

Jesus sent the man home to declare - which translates as “to show” - what the love of God has done for him. This is a powerful part of the story.

This formerly untamed, scary, naked, chain-bound man was sent by Jesus to share his good news of reconciliation to God and his community. This man was an apostle – sent by Jesus – before Mary Magdalene witnessed the resurrection that first Easter, before the disciples’ Pentecost experience.

The first apostle was a formerly mentally ill, demon-possessed Gentile. How’s that for a God twist?

The gospel tells us that the man did as Jesus commanded him. He went home “proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.” We don’t know what happened in the long term, and that’s part of the lesson for us.

We do as we are commanded: we love God and one another as Jesus loved us. God does the rest in God’s time. God’s plan of redeeming, reconciling love isn’t ours to accomplish but to participate in, to foster.

We are lavish planters of the seeds of divine love. God does the growing and the harvesting – which we may or may not see in our earthly lives. We don’t lose hope because our hope is in Jesus; and we don’t lose patience because we trust in God’s inclusive plan of love and we, too, don’t want anyone, not even a hate-filled shooter, left out or lost.

I close with a prayer from enfleshed.com. Let us pray. 

In the image of God, you created everything and called it good! In abundant diversity, your likeness is found in us. We reject all messages that belittle or degrade any among us. And so in faithfulness to God and one another we proclaim: Sacred are our bodies of every size and ability. Blessed are our sexualities, drawing us towards love of many kinds. Beloved is every gender, revealing you in different ways. To our skin, beautiful in every shade, we say hallelujah! Praise God, our Creator, who blesses us with this world, these bodies, and our fellow creatures, all created good, very good. Amen. (Source)

Monday, June 13, 2022

PRIDE, 2022: Sharing my story

 



Our bishop says that our stories matter and need to be shared. Just prior to the start of PRIDE month, I invited LGBTQIA+ members and allies at Emmanuel (Episcopal Church, Webster, Groves, MO) to share their stories, their joys and pains, how this church and THE church has supported or injured them. The first to share their PRIDE month story is – me. I am your priest, and I am also the mother of a lesbian daughter.

I remember knowing that my daughter was gay when she was little. When she came out to me in high school, I could honestly tell her that I already knew, that I’d know for a long time, so she could let go any worry about my reaction to her news. I loved her as she was and would support her as she came into the fullness of herself and her love.

As a parent, I did grieve when she came out, because it was official. The future I was taught to hope for my child was gone, so were my hopes for grandkids – in the way I was taught to expect them - and I had to let myself grieve all that. As God always does, in the ashes of what was gone, a new hope was born, and it brought me freedom.

Soon enough, I realized that my hopes for my daughter hadn’t changed much at all. I hoped for a future where she would know love and build a family, where her gifts could find expression and provide her a comfortable living, where she could become her fullest self. She is living this dream today: teaching music and playing in orchestras in South GA, legally married to her love, and raising my two grandsons, who were born by IVF.

After years of progress toward LGBTQIA+ inclusion, we, as a family, now face the threat of their loss of freedoms and rights, but not only them. I recently was made my grandson’s legal guardian for the second time in my life. The first time was prior to the legalization of gay marriage. This time it’s in the event their rights to marriage and adoption rights are repealed. I pray for all people – gay, straight, and otherwise - who may lose the option for in-vitro fertilization at all, and for adoption due to their sexual identity.

As a mom, I’ve always worried about my daughter’s safety. We raised our kids in deep South GA where my daughter lives again, and where guns are rampant, and anti-gay Christians are the majority voice. But now we also live in a culture where just about anyone can get a gun, where people shoot and kill those who offend them or their beliefs. I pray daily for the safety of my daughter and her family.

When I interviewed to come here to serve with you, I told the search committee, as I tell every discernment committee, that my daughter is gay and if this church couldn’t fully welcome her as she is (meaning, e.g., that she could hold hands with her wife in the pews), that was fine, but then I am not the priest they want or need here. I haven’t had a church admit to being welcoming in concept only, but I have served in them, which is why I add the example when I make this statement now.

As we celebrate PRIDE month, I thank you for being a parish where I can share my story as the mom of an LGBTQIA+ person. I celebrate the love and real acceptance of LGBTQIA+ people here at Emmanuel. This love reflects the God we worship, and it can change the world. Thank you.

Sunday, June 12, 2022

Trinity Sunday, 2022-C: Soaring freely in God

 Lectionary: Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31; Canticle 13; Romans 5:1-5; John 16:12-15 

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


Last week on Pentecost Sunday we celebrated the establishment of the community of Christ on earth. Today, Trinity Sunday, we celebrate the Community of God. One reason the liturgical calendar puts these principal feasts side by side is that we learn how to be the community of Christ on the earth by living like the community of God: a community in unity with itself.

Trinity Sunday is when we pause to contemplate what it means to us that God is Trinity in unity; one God in three persons. There is no expectation that we’ll figure out anything new. It took the church 325 difficult years to agree on how to understand and talk about who Jesus was. That was the great achievement of the ecumenical Council of Nicaea in 325 from which we received our Nicene Creed. And it is because we can stand firmly on that foundation that we are able to soar freely into the knowledge and experience of the mystery of God as God chooses to reveal to us today.

Years ago, I was talking with a friend of mine who was becoming an Episcopal priest. I asked him what heaven would be for him. He said that for him, heaven would be to know everything there is to know about God.

That made me very sad. How could this smart man think our finite brains could ever hope to truly comprehend the infinite? More importantly, however, was my friend’s use of the word “about.” To seek to know about God isn’t the same as to seek to know God. Knowing about God objectifies God. God is other, outside, observed.

I don’t think I’ve shared with you yet about one of my hobbies: quantum physics. Quantum physics is concerned with the micro-universe, sub-atomic particles like quarks, and the macro-universe, galaxies – going as far as we can go in both directions. What I have learned from this discipline is that everything we learn points us to something we don’t know.

One of my favorite theoretical physicists is Fred Allan Wolf who I’ve been reading since the early 1980s. Dr. Wolf says the farther physics goes into the micro and out to the macro-universe the closer we get to mystery. “The trick,” he says, “the real trick in life is not to be in the know, but to be in the mystery.” 

A scientist said that! Do you see why I love this stuff?

When we think about it, there is much we already know about God. We know that God is the source of all that is. We know that Jesus said he and God are one. We know that Jesus promised the Holy Spirit of God would come, clothe his followers with power from on high, and lead them into all truth. And we know that this would happen over time as Jesus said in today’s gospel.

We know that God is relationship: a Trinity who lives in Unity. We know that we have been brought into that relationship through Jesus who reconciled us to God, making us one with God as he is one with God.

We know that God continues to be revealed to us in creation, in prayer, in community, in our own bodies, and in the gift of our intellect. When Jesus said, I have many things to say to you and you will know them over time, he was talking about the kind of knowing that happens by entering the mystery – a knowing that happens in the wholeness of ourselves; in the wholeness of our community, and in the wholeness of creation – from the tiny-ness of a quark to the vastness of a galaxy.

Painting credit: Valori M. Sherer, 2014
God is continually revealing God’s self to us, inviting us into the mystery of God. Have you ever had the experience of a breath-taking sunrise? …or stood in the timelessness that exists as you peer over the edge of a cliff on a mountain? Have you ever heard the healing power of the ocean's crashing waves? …or been lost in the universe of a star-filled sky? If you have, then you have been in the mystery of God.

When I hold my grandson and he loves me with his whole little self, I know God. When my dog snuggles into me and looks at me with adoring eyes, I know God. Every time we gather for Holy Eucharist where we, as the community of Christ on earth, are nourished, strengthened, and enlightened by Word and sacrament, we know God.

God is revealed through our prayers and hymns. Sometimes, God chooses to be revealed in the midst of a hymn or a prayer we’re going through for the thousandth time, not really paying attention - until some divine truth hits us, switching on a light of understanding, and transforming us entirely.

Trinity Sunday is a good Sunday to be an Episcopalian. We don’t try to solve the mystery. We simply enter it. When we do, when we’re quiet and make space for God to speak in us, amazing things can happen. Love we didn’t know we could have is given to us, insights light up our understanding, and truths are revealed that connect us to everything and show us how to go forward in our time on earth.

Theologian Christopher Morse says, “The Spirit’s working for freedom is revealed only by the free working of the Spirit.” Standing firmly on the foundation of our faith, we can be in the mystery, soaring freely with God going wherever She leads, certain that there is always more God, more love, to be revealed to us.

I close with a prayer from the Revised Common Lectionary Prayer book. Let us pray: 

“God of delight, 
your Wisdom sings your Word 
at the crossroads where humanity and divinity meet. 
Invite us into your joyful being 
where you know and are known 
in each beginning, 
in all sustenance, 
in every redemption, 
that we may manifest your unity 
in the diverse ministries you entrust to us, 
truly reflecting your triune majesty 
in the faith that acts, 
in the hope that does not disappoint, 
and in the love that endures. Amen.” (Source)

Sunday, June 5, 2022

Pentecost 2022-C: Liberating, transforming love

 Lectionary: Acts 2:1-21; Psalm 104:25-35, 37; Romans 8:14-17; John 14:8-17, (25-27)


God, who created us, dwells in us. God dwells in all God has created: human, creature, and nature, and has declared that everything created is not just good, but very good. Everyone and everything issues from the breath and word of God and is, therefore, to be treated with respect and dignity.
Humanity has a long history of establishing hierarchies of people and creation. The notion that some people are better than other people is ludicrous. As much as I enjoy the stories and characters in Downton Abby (and I do want to see the movie), it holds up for us the human habits of sinfulness through classism and elitism – both of which are alive and well in current experience here and across the world.

As our Nicene Creed reminds us: Jesus is the one through whom all things were made. All things – human, creature, and nature. It is only by loving Jesus, clinging to him, keeping our attention focused on him, that we are able to keep his commandment to love God, neighbor, and self as he did.

When Jesus said, “If you love me you will keep my commandments,” he wasn’t asking us to obey rules. Look at all the rules Jesus broke in the name of love! He ate with sinners and tax collectors, touched the lepers and the dead, welcomed and spoke with women and children who weren’t his family.

Entering into love with Jesus means giving up the priority of self and our reliance on the rules we made which divide us into categories for the benefit of a few. For the people in our Scripture stories, that meant letting go of the notion that foreigners were bad, and that women, children, and beasts were of lesser value and could be owned and disrespected.

That’s one of the things the Pentecost event did – it blew away the boundaries of their habits and opened the disciples and all present to something new, amazing, inclusive, and expansive – the love of God in all people.

Another thing the Pentecost event did was awaken the presence of the Spirit of God in the disciples. The tongues of fire that rested on the heads of the disciples are an amazing image. Fire, in Biblical language, is the presence of God. Remember the burning bush in Genesis, the pillar of fire in the desert in Exodus… At that first Pentecost, pieces of God were distributed by Holy Spirit to the followers of Jesus. Each one was given a piece of God to bring into the world. Paul talks about these later in his writings about the gifts of the Spirit.

Finally, the Pentecost event bonded people into relationships that previously had been inconceivable. The Good News of the salvation of God in Christ was shared among people who didn’t share language or experience or even respect. Yet God bonded them miraculously and they became one family – the family of God – of which we are the current generation.

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. Rufus 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 so I can understand him – and hurry!”

Just as I finished praying, I literally heard what sounded like the rush of a 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. It was at once perplexing and enlivening.

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 like family in my heart. 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.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr once said, “Power at its best is love… implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.” (186)

This is the power that came upon those gathered at that first Pentecost and it is the same power that comes upon us today. Filled with the liberating power of love, Peter preached to the people from “every nation under heaven” gathered there 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.

On this Day of Pentecost, I declare to you, my beloved siblings in Christ, that God is still pouring God’s Spirit into all flesh: black, brown, white, gay, straight, non-binary... all flesh – and it’s happening now. When we put together the pieces of God that were given to each of us, we can change the world.

That’s why we’re here – in this church. Whenever we gather together to worship and share the holy food of Communion, we are inviting the Spirit of God to awaken the divine love that is in us, to liberate us from a preoccupation with ourselves that we might see and respond to the needs of the people and world around us.

I want to clarify, however, that when we do good works it is not for our own benefit. It isn’t about us doing what we need to do to get into heaven but about us bringing heaven to earth.

Good works happen when God’s presence is awakened within us by the Holy Spirit. That is our Pentecost moment when the proverbial tongue of fire is visibly resting on us, and it happens not just once, but often, continually throughout our lives.

When we come upon someone who doesn’t know the presence of God’s love within themselves and they haven’t experienced it much, if at all, in the world around them, we draw nearer to them – unafraid - as Jesus did with the Gerasene demoniac (Mk 5:1-20), and allow the awakened Spirit of God in us to reach out to the slumbering Spirit of God in them. It is sinful to blame or judge them, or to get defensive or selfish about the gifts we’ve been given that they have not.

When Rufus and I shared our Pentecost moment, we both felt an immediate closeness, like family, only deeper. In addition, Rufus found the comfort he needed to die in peace and I experienced what it felt like to bring heaven to earth for the sake of another.

I will admit: my heart has been troubled lately. I’ve been so distressed by the school shooting in Uvalde, the subsequent multiple mass murders over the Memorial Day holiday, and even more since then. At last count, there have been nearly 250 mass shootings in the 155 days of 2022.

Realizing that caused my stomach to lurch, but then I remembered Jesus and what his love did in his world and what it is doing in ours – through us. So I’m also at peace, the kind of peace that can only come from Jesus. Conflict and division are historical, continuing earthly realities, but the peace of Christ – the peace that brings wellbeing, wholeness, holiness - is our eternal reality.

God’s own spirit is within us, liberating and transforming us, leading us to change the world simply by unleashing the power of the divine love that abides in us. 

So, let us go forth in the power of the Holy Spirit, with all humility as beloved creatures of God, and change the world! Amen.

Sunday, May 22, 2022

6 Easter, 2022-C: Loving God in and above all things

Lectionary: Acts 16:9-15, Psalm 67; Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5; John 14:23-29 


I want to begin by mentioning that today is Rogation Sunday – a day we ask God’s blessing on agriculture and industry, those who work in those areas, and those of us who benefit from them. Is this familiar to you? 


While I do mention it, we won’t pray the Great Litany, as is the Episcopal custom on this day, but I do commend it to you to read on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of this week – which are the rogation days. These are always the three days before the Ascension, which falls on Thursday. As a principal feast in the church, however, we will transfer the feast of the Ascension and celebrate it on the following Sunday.

Why am I mentioning all of this? Well, aside from the fact that we are Episcopalian, and this is part of our tradition, it is also germane to today’s Collect in which we ask God to pour such love into us that we love God in all things and above all things…

Seeking to love God in all things connects us directly to the Episcopal focus on the stewardship of creation. All that God has created, all whom God has created, are to be tended to reverently, and God’s gifts are to be shared by us who have access to them as generously as God has shared them with us.

Seeking to love God above all things keeps our focus on God’s plan for us and for the world, reminding us to subjugate our desires, knowing they are too small; that the good things God has prepared for us exceed our ability even to ask or imagine. It also means that we don’t have to take what we need first and hope the other guy gets theirs too. Our selfishness, our mistrust of God’s abundance, leads to so much division, sadness, and unfair distribution of labor and product.

In God’s economy, there is always enough, more than enough. It is our sin, our self-centeredness, that disrupts the flow of divine abundance. For example, when I take my share first, without regard for how much there is to be shared among us, I raise myself and my needs above those of others.

Then, in order to ensure I keep getting my share, which bloats over time to anything I want, not just what I need, I have to separate myself from those others and demonize them, and the projections begin: “They want what belongs to me. I worked for it. I earned it. They haven’t. They’re lazy. They’re selfish. They deserve their lot in life. If they want better, they should work for it like I did.”

This is the fallacy of the principle of meritocracy and it is in direct contradiction to the way of Jesus. According to Yale Law professor, Daniel Markovits, “We typically think of meritocracy as a system that rewards the best and brightest. [But he says,] “it is merely ‘a pretense, constructed to rationalize an unjust distribution of advantage… The problem, of course, is that elites cheat… they game the system and… engage in all kinds of self-dealing in order to get ahead.” (Source)

In other words, they raise themselves and their desires above those of others. The recent college admissions scandal, where rich people paid elite colleges to admit their children, is an example of gaming the system for their own benefit.

Markovits calls meritocracy a “moral insult… because it frames what is in fact structural inequality and structural exclusion as an individual failure to measure up, and then tells you…[that] the reason you can’t get the… high-paying job is because you’re not good enough and the reason that your kids can’t get into Harvard is that they’re not good enough.” (Source)

Pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps, a hallmark of meritocracy, implies we have boots, which people of color, who are disproportionately poor in our country and in the world, don’t – metaphorically. And if they somehow get boots, the elites, who are gaming the system impede their rise - except for the rare few, who are used to point to the validity of the system. See, we had a black president, we had a woman Presiding Bishop, we have a Latina Supreme Court justice. If they can do it, anyone can. The problem is… anyone can’t. The system is rigged against them and meant to not only keep them down but also to blame for it. Meritocracy and racism are a malignant combo.

That is why I say this contradicts the way of Jesus. Jesus showed us how to love and asked us to love others as he has loved us. He asked us to love God and neighbor with a love that puts them above and before ourselves – as he did for us.

In today’s gospel, Jesus tells Judas, the son of James, his brother: “those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” This is a very dense, and important statement, so let’s unpack it a little.

The word “love” being used here is agape love, the self-sacrificing love Jesus modeled for us. Jesus, who is the word, the logos of God, is the divine reality spoken into human form. When we love Jesus we are holding fast to the reality of him, prioritizing him over ourselves. We say in our creed that Jesus is the one through whom all things are made. To love him, then, is to love God in all things, as we prayed in our Collect.

The outcome of choosing to love in this way is that God makes God’s home in us. We become the temple of the Holy Spirit, the incarnate, living, dwelling place of God.

This is the lesson Jesus is giving his disciples as he prepares to leave the worldly realm. I’m telling you this now while I’m with you, he says, but soon, the Holy Spirit, the one who helps, will come to you and remind you of all I’ve been saying.

What Jesus didn’t say was that things were about to get really rough for the disciples. So, ahead of that, he gave him his peace, saying: I give you my peace, a peace the world can’t give. My peace is not the absence of conflict, but the presence of eternal wholeness, well-being, harmony, and completeness. Jesus’ peace ensures our safety and our welfare as individuals and as a community.

When sin and conflict happen, Jesus says, and they will continue to happen, remember that I am with you, my peace is with you. So, fear not, and don’t let your hearts be troubled. I am eternally present with you. Love as I love, go where I send you, listen when I speak in your dreams or give you visions, open your eyes to see the truth around you, then work with me to transform the systems of the world that harm my beloved ones and my creation.

Let us pray… Loving God, on this Rogation Sunday, we ask your blessing on those who work in agriculture, knowing that most of them are Latinx or other people of color who can’t afford to eat what they are growing, picking, and sending to us.

Creator God, we ask your blessing on the earth, the womb of our sustenance from which we get our food, water, and air, remembering that her gifts are often exploited to profit a few rather than stewarded for the welfare of all.

Generous God, we ask you to bless the industries that drive the world’s economies, praying that all who work are fairly treated, fairly paid, and free to rise to whatever heights their gifts and abilities lead them. We pray for those who don’t or can’t work, asking you to remove all barriers in their way, including the shame and blame they may carry from unjust systems they can neither control nor avoid.

Gracious God, we give you thanks for your love that continually creates goodness in us and in the world, and we pledge, as followers of your son, Jesus, to be faithful stewards of your abundance through our various gifts and occupations until the whole world obtains your promises and the fullness of the peace of Christ. Amen.

Sunday, May 1, 2022

3 Easter & Baptism, 2022-C: New life in the body of Christ

 

Lectionary: Acts 9:1-6, (7-20); Psalm 30; Revelation 5:11-14; John 21:1-19 


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

Blessed Eastertide to you all. As we continue to bask in the light of the new life given to us by Jesus at Easter, our joy is intensified by welcoming two new Christians, Patrick and Charles Carey, into the body of Christ.

The sacrament of Baptism is the foundation upon which we all stand as members of the body of Christ. In it we experience our release from the bondage of death and sin by sharing in the resurrection of Jesus. In our most helpless, powerless moments on earth, we the Baptized, find our hope and strength in Jesus our Savior.

In our Baptism, we are raised up into a new life of grace… a new life of grace. The blessings, mercy, and love of the Creator of the whole universe are now ours for the taking, and they come with the gifts of joy and wonder.

We now live a life where the lavish love of God will constantly amaze and thrill us – if we have eyes to see it. That’s why we prayed together in our Collect: “Open the eyes of our faith, that we may behold him in all his redeeming work” in the world around us.

The world has always been a place where Saul lives. The Sauls of the world believe they know what’s best for everyone and use their earthly power, even violence, to enforce their understanding of how the world, and everyone in it, should be. They may mean well, though some in our world’s history, even some in our world today, surely don’t.

In the end, our Scriptures promise that the Sauls of the world are rendered powerless in the face of the love of God, and those whom they hurt or destroyed didn’t go unnoticed by God. They too, have been redeemed and reconciled into the love of God. As the psalmist says, “You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.”

We will die many deaths in our Christian journey – the death of our understanding of ourselves, the death of our understanding of God or Jesus or the Spirit; the death of our expectation about church, the death of our personal goals or plans in favor of God’s plan for us. Each death we face is difficult and leaves us feeling lost and afraid, but we go into each death willingly because Jesus led the way for us and promised us new life on the other side of it… a life of freedom, joy, and wonder in all God’s works.

Knowing we are forgiven, we are able to learn and grow from our mistakes, not be undone by them. Can you imagine how Peter felt when he heard that cock crow, and realized that he’d denied his beloved Jesus three times? In our gospel story, Jesus offers Peter three opportunities to profess his love and commitment again, not holding his sin against him, but letting Peter learn from it. And what did Peter learn? 

Peter learned that all of us are likely to fail to be faithful at some point, but that doesn’t mean we have become worthless or cast out of relationship. God in Christ still loves us, has a plan for us, and can use the humility we’ve learned to enable us to serve better.

Peter learned that God is always ready to reach out to us to reconcile us back into love. Jesus invited Peter to profess his love and commitment as many times as he had sinned. The invitation is ours too. It’s why we promise to repent and return to the Lord whenever (not if ever) we sin.

Peter learned that the new life promised to us is real and beyond anything we could ask or imagine. Peter, like Mary Magdalene, didn’t recognize the resurrected Jesus at first. Whatever we think about God, God is more than that. Closing our eyes to or resisting the new thing God is placing before us and waiting for what we want or expect is not only useless, it’s unfaithful.

And finally, Peter learned that faithfully living in Christ doesn’t mean we will avoid the pain and violence of the world, but since Jesus went there first, we are assured of the grace of resurrection. All of us will experience being led where we don’t want to go at some point. It’s the ‘take up your cross and follow me’ aspect of our life of faith. But for us, the cross is now simply the gateway to new life. So we go - with confidence in the love of God that goes with us.

Living this life – the resurrection life of Jesus – takes a community. We can’t do this alone and we aren’t meant to. We’re meant to do this– all of it - the painful and the joyful, the disastrous and the miraculous, as the body of Christ in the world.

Today we are baptizing two persons into this body of Christ, committing to be there with them every step of the way on their journeys of faith, including the deaths they will face and the joys they will know. We pledge today to share it all with them.

More than that, we pledge to be their teachers, their prayer partners, and their encouragers. We promise to help them know what being a Baptized Christian in the Episcopal faith means (and what it doesn’t). We promise to help them discover their unique gifts and God’s purpose for them in the world. Then we promise to support them as they live into that purpose. 

We also renew our promise to continue to do the same for one another. It's a sacred bond we make and we do it as a family of faith. Amen.

 (Invitation to the font)

Sunday, April 17, 2022

Easter Day and Baptism, 2022-C: lovelovelovelovelove

 Lectionary: Lectionary: Isaiah 65:17-25; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-1


¡Aleluia! Cristo ha resucitado! Alleluia! Christ is risen! (The people respond) The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia! 

Happy Easter, everyone! 

Today we have the privilege of bringing another person into the community of love known to the world as Emmanuel Episcopal Church in Webster Groves, MO. The Baptism of Miriam Bruner-Wiltsie is an important event because by it we are made whole in a new way. By incorporating the one, the whole of us is made new.

It is also a big responsibility for us who are her family of faith. God has created Miriam for a purpose. She has been gifted for that purpose, and it is up to us, her community of love, to help her discover those gifts, nurture them, and then use them to further God’s kingdom of love here on earth.

This is no small thing, and it isn’t just about Miriam. The same is true for all of us. We all have a responsibility to discover, nurture, and employ our God-given gifts as partners with God in the co-creation and transformation of the world.

In our gospel story today, Mary Magdalene models that for us. Returning to the tomb where Jesus had been hastily buried before the Passover and finding the stone door of the tomb rolled away, Mary runs back to tell Peter and John. All three then head back to the tomb to see what had happened. The author tells us that Peter went in first, then John. Unable to understand, they simply returned to their homes… but Mary Magdalene stayed at the tomb, weeping.

When she finally summons up the courage to look inside, Mary saw two angels – messengers of God – who asked her why she was weeping. Believing that those who killed Jesus must have stolen his body, Mary Magdalene replies, “I don’t know where Jesus is.”

As soon as she said that there he was, though in his resurrected state Mary couldn’t recognize him. Then Jesus spoke her name and her heart melted. “Rabboni!” she breathed.

If it had been me, I’d have run to Jesus and thrown my arms around him in a big hug. Back then, however, women and men who weren’t related didn’t do that.

But Jesus, who knows our hearts, knew Mary’s recognition of him was too small. The resurrection meant that everything, including their relationship, was different and they would all need time to understand how to live into this new reality.

Easter offers us the opportunity to reflect on our recognition of Jesus in our lives. Is it too small? Have we made room in our lives for the transforming reality of our relationship with the resurrected Jesus?

Duncan Gray, III, retired bishop of the Diocese of Mississippi, once said: "Change is doing something differently. Transformation is becoming something more. Transformation begins to take place when we offer ourselves, our souls, our bodies – our dreams, our visions, our plans – to Almighty God. And as we make our offering we say, not, ‘here are our plans, bless them;’ but, rather, ‘here are our lives, use them.’ And…it is in that offering … that [the] weak become strong, the proud become humble, and lives are transformed.”

Let’s go back for a minute to the first part of today’s gospel story where Peter and John witness the empty tomb. They didn’t see any angels and they didn’t see Jesus. They didn’t see, perceive, or understand anything, so they left. Mary stayed, and in the midst of her sadness, fear, and confusion Jesus showed up.

At the end of their encounter, Mary was transformed. She’d become something more – and she ran back to witness resurrection transformation to the others.

When we are drowning in sorrow, or fear, or confusion Jesus will show up. We just need to wait in the discomfort as Mary did.

Redemption is guaranteed for everyone, for as we read in Acts, God shows no partiality. It’s pretty clear that God didn’t pick Peter because he was so astute. Right? Yet look at Peter’s legacy. God created Peter, gifted him, and sent him to live out his purpose; and Peter did that – in all his imperfection.

God chooses each of us too. What is God’s purpose for our lives? The best answer I’ve heard to that question came from my daughter years ago when she was an undergraduate. She had been arguing with some of her childhood friends who were “Christians” about homosexuality. In their efforts to help her avoid eternal damnation as a lesbian, they kept throwing Bible verses at her.

Here was my daughter’s response, and I share it with you because I can’t make a better point on EasterDay than what she said: “All those words [in the Bible, she said] are different ways of illustrating one message: lovelovelovelovelove. God is love. Period. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to agree with it. You can try to collect all the rules you want, and I'm sure that's a comfort. It's just not the point. I will say it until I die: God is love.” ~Jessica Sherer

I will say it too until I die: God is love. I will also say that we don’t live our lives on earth trying to get to heaven, but as co-creators with God of heaven on earth.

We gather on this Easter Day to be transformed by the power of the truth that God is love. We also get to welcome another Christian into that love. Welcoming Miriam as a sibling in the body of Christ, we commit to be the community of love that forms her so that she is empowered and supported as she fulfills the purpose for which she was created. 

 (Invitation of Miriam’s family, friends, and their children to the Baptismal font)

Saturday, April 16, 2022

The Great Vigil of Easter, 2022-C: Believe and live

 Lectionary: Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21; Isaiah 55:1-11; Ezekiel 36:24-28; Ezekiel 37:1-14;Zephaniah 3:14-20; Romans 6:3-11; Psalm 114; Luke 24:1-12



¡Aleluia! Cristo ha resucitado! Alleluia! Christ is risen! 
 (The people respond) The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia! 

 I love the smell of spring. The whole world smells so good – have you noticed? And even the weeds here in STL are beautiful! Those little purple violets! On one of my recent neighborhood walks, I was looking up at the progress of the newly growing leaves. Have you ever noticed that as the new life forms on the trees there is no evidence of the leaves from last year? The trees are the same trees but the life on them is completely new.

It made me think of the new life we are entering into this Easter. As a Christian community, we have been waiting through the season of Lent, waiting while God cultivated new life in us. Tonight, we open our eyes and see what God has been doing in us. And like the women who went to the tomb, what we see may surprise us. It might even (and hopefully will) transform us completely.

In the gospel story from Luke, the women went to the tomb to finish the preparation of Jesus’ body his rushed burial had prevented before the Passover. When they arrived at the tomb they saw that the stone had been rolled away and the body of their beloved Rabbi, their Messiah, was gone.

Suddenly, two men in dazzling clothes were in the tomb with them. Dazzling clothes, in biblical language, indicate transcendence – the presence of heaven on earth. These two men from heaven ask the women, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?”

You can almost hear their thoughts… Well duh… because Jesus is dead - we saw him die on the cross. We began the preparation of his body for burial and are here now to complete it. The two men from heaven then remind the women: Remember how he told you, while he was still with you, that he must be …crucified, and on the third day rise again?

Yes! They did remember! Jesus was dead, but now he’s risen… just as he promised! Suddenly it all made sense… and the women believed the unbelievable!

In an instant, everything they knew, everything they thought was possible, was suddenly expanded, and they were transformed by it. These women were the first to experience the truth of the resurrection. They were the first ones to know and live what St. Paul called newness of life. 

The first thing the women did was run back to tell the men - who didn’t believe them. But it’s hard to blame them. Jesus’ resurrection from the dead defies all earthly explanation. The scarier part, I think, is if everything Jesus said has come true, then what about the rest of his promises? What about the promise that sin and death would no longer have power over us?

What does that mean? We still sin, and we still die.

Years ago, when I was trying to get out of my abusive first marriage, a wise person said to me: No one has any power over you that you don’t give them.

The same is true of sin and death... they have no power over us that we don’t give them. As long as we live, we will sin. That’s why in our Baptismal vows, we promise to repent and return to the Lord whenever we sin. Baptism doesn’t free us from sinning. It frees us from the power sin has over us, which is convincing us that we are un-forgivable.

Tonight we celebrate the life-giving truth that forgiveness is always available to us. All we have to do is return to God. All we have to do is look upon the face that died for us on the cross, and see that the face of Love looking back is smiling, glad for our return, reaching out to us with hands that have holes in them. All we have to do is open our hands and reach for him, open our hearts and let him in.

We have been forgiven – all of us. And we have been set free – free to love as we have been loved, free to forgive, as we have been forgiven.

This is the truth we celebrate. This is the freedom we claim.

And now we are the ones who witness to this truth that defies explanation and we do that by living as if we know it’s true, trusting that we can forgive someone else and live a new life. We witness this truth when we proclaim it by our lives. As St. Francis of Assisi is thought to have once said, “Preach the gospel always… when necessary use words.”

We witness this truth we know when we live our lives in such a way that the love of God in Christ is made known to the world through us. If, as St. Paul said, Christ died once for ALL, then who can we hate? …who can we exclude? 

(This is not a rhetorical question) The answer is: no one!

We witness this truth we know when we live like we are beloved, and so is everyone else.

We witness the unbelievable truth of our salvation when we let go of whatever separates us from the love of God and the love of neighbors, when we forgive as we have been forgiven, and when we make choices that are life-giving for us, and for those we serve in Jesus’ name.

We witness the truth that defies explanation - the truth of the empty tomb - when we persevere in times when our faith is tried and we are tired, when we strive for justice and peace in real and sacrificial ways, when we respect the dignity of all people – especially those the world loves to hate… even when the world hates us for doing so.

As we celebrate our new life in Christ, a life of freedom and peace a life of joyful abundance we sing out our song of praise, proclaiming the truth of our salvation: 

 Alleluia! Christ is risen! 
(The people respond) The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Thursday, April 14, 2022

Maundy Thursday, 2022- C: The third cup

 Lectionary: Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14; Psalm 116:1, 10-17; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31b-35 



En el nombre de Dios que es Trinidad en unidad. Amen. 

On this holy night, we remember the ritual, the Passover seder meal, that our forebears in the faith, the Jewish people, created. This ritual meal, which bears witness to the story of the deliverance of the people of Israel from bondage to redemption, isn't just a story of what happened once. It's also a story of what is happening now, eternally, because of who God is and how the world is - until that final time when all people and all creation are fully and completely reconciled to God.

A good deal of the focus at a Jewish seder supper is on the children who are asked: "What makes this night different from all other nights?" The question is meant to spark the children’s curiosity and encourage them to ask questions. This, combined with participation in ritual, is how Jewish children are taught about their faith and their identity as children of God.

Held in the Spring, the seder supper signals rebirth and renewal, and the story unfolds in four parts marked by four cups of wine consumed during the meal. Each of the cups represents how God has acted to save and is taken from the book of Exodus (6:6-7). These four acts are: "I will bring out, "I will deliver," "I will redeem," and "I will take."

This matters to us because each Sunday when we share Holy Communion, we are lifting up the third of the four cups, which Jesus claimed himself to be at his last Passover. To understand this let’s look at the meaning and context of the four cups.

The first cup is the cup of SANCTIFICATION. God says: "I will bring you out." To sanctify is to set someone or something apart as holy. This is where the people of God learn that they are "chosen" by God. God will bring them out from their slavery so that they can serve God, not a human master.

The second cup is the cup of DELIVERANCE. God says: "I will deliver." We cannot save ourselves or anyone else. Only God can save. Freedom from whatever or whoever holds us bound on earth is always a gift from God.The temptation most of us face is spending time and energy trying to do the right thing or to live the right way, in order to earn our salvation. But that is impossible. Redemption is a gift from God. We can't and don't have to earn it.

The third cup is the cup of REDEMPTION. God says, "I will redeem." It is this cup that Jesus takes, blesses, and gives to his friends saying, "This cup is the New Covenant in my blood…" as often as you drink it, do this to remember me.

That is familiar to us. What may not be is the cultural context of it. In the Jewish tradition, the word redemption also means "avenger of blood" and it is, by definition, a family member. This family member acts to set their kin free from slavery, paying a ransom, or great price for that freedom.

The traditional image is of a father sacrificing his firstborn son for the freedom of his entire family. Sound familiar?

At dinner with his friends, Jesus claims himself to be the third cup. It is his blood, that is, his life that will be given for the redemption of all by the forgiveness of sin. Because he is fully God and fully human, Jesus is the Father who pays the price, the Son who is the price, and the family for whom that price is paid.

The fourth cup is the cup of HOPE. God says, "I will take." The Jewish people understood this to be the cup of Elijah, for whom an empty seat is kept at the seder table. When Elijah returns and takes his place in that seat, it will signal the coming of the Messiah, the complete fulfillment of God's promises to them.

While our narrative as Christians begins in the story of our Jewish forbears, for us the fourth cup, our hope, has been fulfilled in Jesus, the Christ. Therefore, we journey now in the already-but-not-yet time: the new age inaugurated by Jesus which is fulfilled at his Second Coming – a concept we will delve into more deeply at another time.

In the meantime, on this night we reclaim our part as partners with Christ in the continuing work of the redemption of the whole world to God. As Jesus said, "I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you." The Messiah of God humbly served his community by getting on his knees and washing their feet. Now it’s our turn.

Washing feet is and always has been a difficult and humbling experience on both sides of the basin as Peter so aptly illustrates for us. But Jesus’ warning to Peter, and therefore to us, is clear: you must humble yourself and receive this gift I give, or you will not be able to give it to others in my name.

I hope we all take this very seriously. Jesus is mandating that we do now as he did then: humble ourselves, which is what the posture of kneeling represents, wrap the symbol of a servant around our waist, and do the "dirty work" of tenderly caring for the most unappealing realities of the human condition (which for some people includes feet!), bringing refreshment, dignity, and tender loving care to the lowest of the low.

One of the besetting sins of modern Christian culture is that many of us will tenderly and even sacrificially give to those in need, but we have a lot of trouble receiving the same from someone else. There’s a little Peter in all of us. As Jesus said, “servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.”

It's our turn now to do them. I, therefore, invite you to come forward and have your foot washed, and further still, to stay and wash the foot of the person after you in line – whoever that is. By this humble action God is glorified and we witness the truth that we love one another in the holy name of Jesus. Amen.

Sunday, April 10, 2022

Palm Sunday, 2022-C: Our sin, God's redemption

Lectionary: The Liturgy of the Palms: Luke 19:28-40; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29. The Liturgy of the Word: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Luke 22:14-23:56 


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

At our Bible study this week I mentioned how today’s readings create a kind of spiritual whiplash, jerking us from "Hosanna" (which means ‘Save us’) to "Crucify him!" Why would the church choose to do that? It’s all about our sin and God’s redemption.

To begin with, it’s important to note that we spoke those words - humanity, not God Jesus knew he was going to die and did so voluntarily for our sake, but it was our will, not God's, that Jesus was tortured and crucified.

God sent Jesus to reconcile us to himself, bridging us to the unity of the Trinity which is where we have life. We, in our sinfulness, continually separate ourselves from God, and therefore from life and from love, inserting our will into God's plan.

Save us, we cry. But wait - this one scares us, so kill him. That is our will. Crucify him.

So we did. We killed him. We killed God's son on a cross that day and so many other children of God since then. People who scare us because of their color, who they love or what sexuality they claim: Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, the four little girls killed at the 16th St Church in Birmingham, AL: Addie Mae Collins, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson, Carol Denise McNair, and their champion, The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the 49 people killed at the gay bar in Orlando, Nizah Morris, Selena Reyes-Hernandez, and Brayla Stone, murdered for being transgender. The list is long… so very long.

These are undeniably our collective sins. We choose, whether actively or passively, to continue to kill innocent children of God. One would think that by now, for example, we wouldn’t need to march against school shootings or pass anti-lynching laws, but sadly we do, and this isn’t new for us.

In 1963, at the euology of the four innocents killed at the 16th Street Baptist Church, Dr. King said this: "they did not die in vain. God still has a way of wringing good out of evil. And history has proven over and over again that unmerited suffering is redemptive. The innocent blood of these… [children]… may well serve as a redemptive force… [leading us] from the low road of man's inhumanity to man to the high road of peace and brotherhood…" 
Source: King, Martin Luther, "A Call to Conscience," 96

The low road of our inhumanity has been made clear to us, over and over again, and it is what we witness in today’s passion gospel. 

So, what is our will now? What path will we take from here?

My hope is that we will follow the way of Jesus who didn't use supernatural power, fight back, or even argue at his trial and crucifixion. Instead, he waited patiently, humbly, faithfully... even as everything went wrong. Even as his own religious community betrayed him, leveling false charges against him. Even as his followers shifted from 'Save us' to 'Crucify him.'

All this while the palm fronds celebrating his arrival in Jerusalem were still fresh on the ground.

Jesus showed us how all things, even death on a cross, could and would be redeemed by God, in ways we couldn't possibly imagine. I mean, who could have imagined Easter?

This is why, year after year, we walk slowly, deliberately, and humbly through the fullness of Holy Week:
to experience as a faith community the real pain of sin and the failure of our human wills – to experience it not only with our heads and our thoughts but with our bodies and souls… by processing with palms, shouting "Hosanna," then speaking those words "Crucify him" out loud and feeling them echo as vibrations in our mouths and our guts.

It's why we listen to the passion story, tensing up at those critical moments - like when Jesus cries out to God, "why have you forsaken me?" and our inner voice whispers, ‘Why, God? Why did you forsake him?’

This cry of abandonment by Jesus is something most of us experience at some point in our lives, and it sounds something like this: 'God, you can do all things. Fix this! This is wrong. They are wrong. Save me (or them) from this pain, this terror, this loss …'

It makes me wonder what happened in Mary's heart as she watched her innocent son get murdered. Could she even utter a prayer as she watched Jesus take his last breath? Did she feel forsaken?

In this passion story, we see all too clearly what the low road of our inhumanity looks like and how it leads to death. We also see Jesus living through the very human, and very familiar experience of wanting God to 'fix it.' Could God have intervened and stopped the crucifixion?

Could God have turned the hearts of the crowds, or Pilate, or the religious authorities… and turned this injustice to right? Of course. So, if God could have stopped it, why didn't God?

Then we remember this passion story where God's own innocent son dies, and we remember that the story doesn't end there. God didn't intervene to save Jesus from unjust execution because God's plan was and is to redeem the whole world from the power of sin and death.

Since it was the will of the people to kill Jesus by crucifixion – their choice - God redeemed us all – once for all - through that crucifixion. Love was not killed. Love triumphs over every evil – even death on a cross.

Whose will is it now that God's children are being killed at school? Or in church? Or in wars around the globe? Or through poverty that starves the life out of them? Or through unrestricted access to automatic weapons of war used at home in peacetime?

It's our will and it's time to change it and follow the way of Jesus onto the high road of peace.

This is why we come to church. We need the strength of our faith community as we face the awful truths about our collective inhumanity - by what we have done or by what we left undone, uncorrected, or unchanged in our world.

We need each other so that once we face those awful truths we don't fall into despair, but instead, march onto the high road of peace, working together with God who is eternally wringing good out of evil.

The children of God in Ukraine and around the world are asking us to act now, to change our wills, and make the way of Jesus a reality, and the only way I know to do that is to humble ourselves - like Jesus did; submit our wills to God - like Jesus did, and trust absolutely - like Jesus did - in the redeeming love of God.  Amen.